there can be no danger out of this house, equal to what she apprehends from me in it) scruple to accept of the chariot of a dowager, accidentally offering? and the lady's protection engaged by her faithful Dorcas, so highly bribed to promote her escape?-And then Mrs H. has the air and appearance of a venerable matron, and is not such a forbidding devil as Mrs Sinclair.

The pretty simpleton knows nothing in the world; nor that people who have money never want assistants in their views, be they what they will. How else could the princes of the earth be so implicitly served as they are, change they hands ever so often, and be their purposes ever 80 wicked?

If I can but get her to go on with me till Wednesday next week, we shall be settled together pretty quietly by that time. And indeed if she has any gratitude, and has in her the least of her sex's foibles, she must think I deserve her favour, by the pains she has cost me. For dearly do they all love that men should take pains about them and for them.

And here, for the present, I will lay down my pen, and congratulate myself upon my happy invention (since her obstinacy puts me once more upon exercising it.)—But with this resolution, I think, that, if the present contrivance fail me, I will exert all the faculties of my mind, all my talents, to procure for myself a legal right to her favour, and that in defiance of all my antipathies to the married state; and of the suggestions of the great devil out of the house, and of his secret agents in it.-Since, if now she is not to be prevailed upon, or drawn in, it will be in vain to attempt her further.

LETTER CLXXIX.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

Tuesday Night, June 20. No admittance yet to my charmer! she is very ill-in a violent fever, Dorcas thinks. Yet will have no advice.

Dorcas tells her how much I am concerned at it.

But again let me ask, Does this lady do right to make herself ill, when she is not ill? For my own part, libertine as people think me, when I had occasion to be sick, I took a dose of ipecacuanha, that I might not be guilty of a falsehood; and most heartily sick was I; as she, who then pitied me, full well knew. But here to pretend to be very ill, only to get an opportunity to run away, in order to avoid forgiving a man who has offended her, how unchristian! If good folks allow themselves in these breaches of a known duty, and in these presumptuous contrivances to deceive, who, Belford, shall blame us?

I have a strange notion that the matronly

lady will be certainly at the grocer's shop at the hour of nine to-morrow morning; for Dorcas heard me tell Mrs Sinclair, that I should go out at eight precisely; and then she is to try for a coach; and if the dowager's chariot should happen to be there, how lucky will it be for my charmer! how strangely will my dream be made out!

I HAVE just received a letter from Captain Tomlinson. Is it not wonderful? for that was part of my dream.

I shall always have a prodigious regard to dreams henceforward. I know not but I may write a book upon that subject; for my own experience will furnish out a great part of it. "Glanville of Witches," "Baxter's History of Spirits and Apparitions," and the "Royal Pedant's Demonology," will be nothing at all to Lovelace's Reveries.

The letter is just what I dreamed it to be. I am only concerned that uncle John's anniversary did not happen three or four days sooner; for should any new misfortune befal my charmer, she may not be able to support her spirits so long as till Thursday in the next week. Yet it will give me the more time for new expedients, should my present contrivance fail; which I cannot however suppose.

I CAN now return you joy, for the joy you have given me, as well as my dear friend Mr Harlowe, in the news of his beloved niece's happy recovery; for he is determined to comply with her wishes and your's, and to give her to you with his own hand.

As the ceremony has been necessarily delayed by reason of her illness, and as Mr Harlowe's birth-day is on Thursday the 29th of this instant June, when he enters into the seventyfourth year of his age; and as time may be wanted to complete the dear lady's recovery; he is very desirous that the marriage shall be solemnized upon it, that he may afterwards have double joy on that day to the end of his life.

For this purpose he intends to set out privately, so as to be at Kentish-town on Wednesday se'ennight in the evening.

All the family used, he says, to meet to celebrate it with him; but as they are at present in too unhappy a situation for that, he will give out, that, not being able to bear the day at home, he has resolved to be absent for two or three days.

He will set out on horseback, attended only with one trusty servant, for the greater privacy. He will be at the most creditable-looking public

house there, expecting you both next morning, if he hear nothing from me to prevent him. And he will go to town with you after the ceremony is performed, in the coach he supposes you will come in.

He is very desirous that I should be present on the occasion. But this I have promised him, at his request, that I will be up before the day, in order to see the settlements executed, and everything properly prepared.

He is very glad you have the licence ready. He speaks very kindly of you, Mr Lovelace; and says, that, if any of the family stand out after he has seen the ceremony performed, he will separate from them, and unite himself to his dear niece and her interests.

I owned to you, when in town last, that I took slight notice to my dear friend of the misunderstanding between you and his niece; and that I did this for fear the lady should have shewn any little discontent in his presence, had I been able to prevail upon him to go up in person, as then was doubtful. But I hope nothing of that discontent remains now.

My absence, when your messenger came, must excuse me for not writing by him.

Be pleased to make my most respectful compliments acceptable to the admirable lady, and believe me to be

Your most faithful and obedient servant,
ANTONY TOMLINSON.

THIS letter I sealed, and broke open. It was brought, thou mayest suppose, by a particular messenger; the seal such a one as the writer need not be ashamed of. I took care to inquire after the captain's health, in my beloved's hearing; and it is now ready to be produced as a pacifier, according as she shall take on or resent, if the two metamorphoses happen pursuant to my wonderful dream; as, having great faith in dreams, I dare say they will,-I think it will not be amiss, in changing my clothes, to have this letter of the worthy captain lie in my beloved's way.

LETTER CLXXX.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

Wedn. Noon, June 21. WHAT shall I say now!-I, who but a few hours ago had such faith in dreams, and had proposed out of hand to begin my treatise of dreams sleeping and dreams waking, and was pleasing myself with the dialogues between the old matronal lady and the young lady, and with the metamorphoses, (absolutely assured that

everything would happen as my dream chalked it out,) shall never more depend upon those flying follies, those illusions of a fancy depraved, and run mad.

Thus confoundedly have matters happened. I went out at eight o'clock in high good humour with myself, in order to give the soughtfor opportunity to the plotting mistress and corrupted maid; only ordering Will to keep a good look-out for fear his lady should mistrust my plot, or mistake a hackney-coach for the dowager-lady's chariot. But first I sent to know how she did; and, receiving for answer, Very ill; had a very bad night; which latter was but too probable; since this I know, that people who have plots in their heads as seldom have as deserve good ones.

I desired a physician might be called in ; but was refused.

I took a walk in St James's Park, congratulating myself all the way on my rare inventions; then, impatient, I took coach, with one of the windows quite up, the other almost up, playing at bo-peep at every chariot I saw pass in my way to

Lincoln's-inn-fields; and when arrived there I sent the coachman to desire any one of Mother H.'s family to come to me to the coachside, not doubting but I should have intelligence of my fair fugitive there; it being then half an hour after ten.

A servant came, who gave me to understand that the matronly lady was just returned by herself in the chariot.

Frighted out of my wits, I alighted, and heard from the mother's own mouth, that Dorcas had engaged her to protect the lady; but came to tell her afterwards, that she had changed her mind, and would not quit the house.

Quite astonished, not knowing what might have happened, I ordered the coachman to lash away to our mother's.

Arriving here in an instant, the first word I asked, was, If the lady was safe?

[Mr Lovelace gives here a very circumstantial relation of all that passed between the Lady and Dorcas. But as he could only guess at her motives for refusing to go off, when Dorcas told her that she had engaged for her the protection of the dowager-lady, it is thought proper to omit this relation, and to supply it by some memoranda of the Lady's. But it is first necessary to account for the occasion on which those memoranda were made. The reader may remember, that, in the letter written to Miss Howe, on her escape to Hampstead, she promises to give her the particulars of her flight at leisure. She had, indeed, thoughts of continuing her account of everything that had passed between her and Mr

VOL. VII.

2 B

Lovelace since her last narrative letter. But the uncertainty she was in from that time, with the execrable treatment she met with on her being deluded back again, followed by a week's delirium, had hitherto hindered her from prosecuting her intention. But, nevertheless, having it still in her view to perform her promise as soon as she had opportunity, she made minutes of everything as it passed, in order to help her memory :"Which," as she observes in one place," she could less trust to since her late disorders than before." In these minutes, or book of memoranda, she observes, "That, having apprehensions that Dorcas might be a traitress, she would have got away while she was gone out to see for a coach; and actually slid down stairs with that intent. But that, seeing Mrs Sinclair in the entry, (whom Dorcas had planted there while she went out,) she speeded up again unseen."

She then went up to the dining-room, and saw the letter of Captain Tomlinson; on which she observes in her memorandum-book as follows:

"How am I puzzled now !—He might leave this letter on purpose; none of the other papers left with it being of any consequence: What is the alternative?-To stay, and be the wife of the vilest of men-how my heart resists that! -To attempt to get off, and fail, ruin inevitable!-Dorcas may betray me !-I doubt she is still his implement !-At his going out, he whispered her, as I saw, unobserved-in a very familiar manner too-Never fear, sir, with a courtesy.

"In her agreeing to connive at my escape, she provided not for her own safety, if I got away; yet had reason, in that case, to expect his vengeance. And wants not forethought.To have taken her with me, was to be in the power of her intelligence, if a faithless creature. Let me, however, though I part not with my caution, keep my charity!-Can there be any woman so vile to a woman?-O yes!—Mrs Sinclair; her aunt.-The Lord deliver me!But, alas!-I have put myself out of the course of his protection by the natural means—and am already ruined! A father's curse likewise against me! Having made vain all my friends' cautions and solicitudes, I must not hope for miracles in my favour!

"If I do escape, what may become of me, a poor, helpless, deserted creature!-Helpless from sex!-from circumstances !-Exposed to every danger!-Lord, protect me!

"His vile man not gone with him!-Lurking

hereabouts, no doubt, to watch my steps!—I will not go away by the chariot, however."That this chariot should come so opportunely! So like his many opportunities!—That Dorcas should have the sudden thought!— Should have the courage with the thought, to address a lady in behalf of an absolute stranger to that lady! That the lady should so readily consent! Yet the transaction between them to take up so much time, their distance in degree considered: for, arduous as the case was, and precious as the time, Dorcas was gone above half an hour! Yet the chariot was said to be ready at a grocer's not many doors off!

"Indeed, some elderly ladies are talkative; and there are, no doubt, some good people in the world.

"But that it should chance to be a widow lady, who could do what she pleased! That Dorcas should know her to be so by the lozenge! Persons in her station are not usually so knowing, I believe, in heraldry.

"Yet some may! for servants are fond of deriving collateral honours and distinctions, as I may call them, from the quality, or people of rank, whom they serve. But this sly servant not gone with him! Then this letter of Tomlinson!

66

Although I am resolved never to have this wretch, yet, may I not throw myself into my uncle's protection at Kentish-town, or Highgate, if I cannot escape before; and so get clear of him? May not the evil I know be less than what I may fall into, if I can avoid farther villainy? Farther villainy he has not yet threatened; freely and justly as I have treated him!--I will not go, I think. At least, unless I can send this fellow away.*

"The fellow a villain! The wench, I doubt, a vile wench. At last concerned for her own safety. Plays off and on about a coach.

"All my hopes of getting off at present over! Unhappy creature! to what farther evils art thou reserved! Oh! how my heart rises at the necessity I must still be under to see and converse with so very vile a man!"

LETTER CLXXXI.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

Wednesday Afternoon. DISAPPOINTED in her meditated escape; obliged, against her will, to meet me in the diningroom; and perhaps apprehensive of being upbraided for her art in feigning herself ill, I erpected that the dear perverse would begin with

me with spirit and indignation. But I was in hopes, from the gentleness of her natural disposition; from the consideration which I expected from her on her situation; from the contents of the letter of Captain Tomlinson, which Dorcas told me she had seen; and from the time she had had to cool and reflect since she last admitted me to her presence, that she would not have carried it so strongly through as she did. As I entered the dining-room, I congratulated her and myself upon her sudden recovery. And would have taken her hand, with an air of respectful tenderness; but she was resolved to begin where she left off.

She turned from me, drawing in her hand, with a repulsing and indignant aspect-I meet you once more, said she, because I cannot help it. What have you to say to me? Why am I to be thus detained against my will?

With the utmost solemnity of speech and behaviour, I urged the ceremony. I saw I had nothing else for it. I had a letter in my pocket, I said, [feeling for it, although I had not taken it from the table where I left it in the same room, the contents of which, if attended to, would make us both happy. I had been loath to shew it to her before, because I hoped to prevail upon her to be mine sooner than the day mentioned in it.

I felt for it in all my pockets, watching her eye, meantime, which I saw glance towards the table where it lay.

I was uneasy that I could not find it-at last, directed again by her sly eye, I spied it on the table at the farther end of the room.

With joy I fetched it. Be pleased to read that letter, madam; with an air of satisfied as

surance.

She took it, and cast her eye over it, in such a careless way, as made it evident, that she had read it before; and then unthankfully tossed it into the window-seat before her.

I urged her to bless me to-morrow, or Friday morning; at least, that she would not render vain her uncle's journey, and kind endeavours to bring about a reconciliation among us all. Among us all! repeated she, with an air equally disdainful and incredulous. O Lovelace, thou art surely nearly allied to the grand deceiver, in thy endeavour to suit temptations to inclinations?-But what honour, what faith, what veracity, were it possible that I could enter into parley with thee on this subject, (which it is not,) may I expect from such a man as thou hast shewn thyself to be?

I was touched to the quick. A lady of your perfect character, madam, who has feigned herself sick, on purpose to avoid seeing the man who adored her, should not

I know what thou wouldst say, interrupted she-Twenty and twenty low things, that my soul would have been above being guilty of, and which I have despised myself for, have I

been brought into by the infection of thy company, and by the necessity thou hadst laid me under, of appearing mean. But, I thank God, destitute as I am, that I am not, however, sunk so low, as to wish to be thine.

I, madam, as the injurer, ought to have patience. It is for the injured to reproach. But your uncle is not in a plot against you, it is to be hoped. There are circumstances in the letter you have cast your eyes over—

Again she interrupted me, Why, once more I ask you, am I detained in this house?-Do not I see myself surrounded by wretches, who, though they wear the habit of my sex, may yet, as far as I know, lie in wait for my perdition?

She would be very loath, I said, that Mrs Sinclair and her nieces should be called upon to vindicate themselves and their house.

Would but they kill me, let them come, and welcome. I will bless the hand that will strike the blow! Indeed I will.

'Tis idle, very idle, to talk of dying. Mere young-lady talk, when controlled by those they hate. But, let me beseech you, dearest crea

ture

Beseech me nothing. Let me not be detained thus against my will!-Unhappy creature that I am, said she, in a kind of phrenzy, wringing her hands at the same time, and turning from me, her eyes lifted up! Thy curse, O my cruel father, seems to be now in the height of its operation!-My weakened mind is full of forebodings, that I am in the way of being a lost creature as to both worlds! Blessed, blessed God, said she, falling on her knees, save me, O save me, from myself and from this man!"

I sunk down on my knees by her, excessively affected-O that I could recal yesterday!— Forgive me, my dearest creature, forgive what is past, as it cannot now, but by one way, be retrieved. Forgive me only on this conditionThat my future faith and honour

She interrupted me, rising—If you mean to beg of me never to seek to avenge myself by law, or by an appeal to my relations, to my cousin Morden in particular, when he comes to England

D-n the law, rising also, [she started, and all those to whom you talk of appealing!-I defy both the one and the other. All I beg is YOUR forgiveness; and that you will, on my unfeigned contrition, re-establish me in your favour――

O no, no, no! lifting up her clasped hands, I never, never will, never, never can, forgive you! and it is a punishment worse than death to me, that I am obliged to meet you, or to see

you.

This is the last time, my dearest life, that you will ever see me in this posture, on this occasion; and again I kneeled to her. Let me hope that you will be mine next Thursday, your uncle's birth-day, if not before. Would

to Heaven I had never been a villain! Your indignation is not, cannot be, greater than my remorse and I took hold of her gown, for she was going from me.

Be remorse thy portion!-For thine own sake, be remorse thy portion!-I never, never will forgive thee!-I never, never will be thine!— Let me retire!-Why kneelest thou to the wretch whom thou hast so vilely humbled?

Say but, dearest creature, you will consider say but, you will take time to reflect upon what the honour of both our families requires of you. I will not rise. I will not permit you to withdraw [still holding her gown] till you tell me you will consider.-Take this letter. Weigh well your situation, and mine. Say, you will withdraw to consider; and then I will not presume to withhold you.

Compulsion shall do nothing with me. Though a slave, a prisoner, in circumstance, I am no slave in my will !-Nothing will I promise thee!Withheld, compelled-nothing will I promise thee!

Noble creature! but not implacable, I hope! -Promise me but to return in an hour! Nothing will I promise thee!

Say but, you will see me again this evening! O that I could say that it were in my power to say-I never will see thee more!-Would to

Heaven I never were to see thee more!

Passionate beauty!-still holding her

I speak, though with vehemence, the deliberate wish of my heart.-O that I could avoid looking down upon thee, mean groveller, and abject as insulting-Let me withdraw! My soul is in tumults! Let me withdraw!

I quitted my hold to clasp my hands together -Withdraw, O sovereign of my fate!-Withdraw, if you will withdraw! My destiny is in your power!-It depends upon your breath!Your scorn but augments my love! Your resentment is but too well founded!-But, dearest creature, return, return, with a resolution to bless with pardon and peace your faithful adorer! She flew from me. The angel, as soon as she found her wings, flew from me. I, the reptile kneeler, the despicable slave, no more the proud victor, arose; and, retiring, tried to comfort my self, that, circumstanced as she is, destitute of friends and fortune; her uncle, moreover, who is to reconcile all so soon, (as I thank my stars she still believes,) expected.

O that she would forgive me!-Would she but generously forgive me, and receive my vows at the altar, at the instant of her forgiving me, that I might not have time to relapse into my old prejudices! By my soul, Belford, this dear girl gives the lie to all our rakish maxims. There must be something more than a name in virtue! -I now see that there is!-Once subdued, always subdued-'Tis an egregious falsehood!But, O Jack, she never was subdued. What have I obtained but an increase of shame and confu

sion!-While her glory has been established by her sufferings!

This one merit is, however, left me, that I have laid all her sex under obligation to me, by putting this noble creature to trials, which, so gloriously supported, have done honour to them all.

However-But no more will I add-What a force have evil habits!—I will take an airing, and try to fly from myself!-Do not thou upbraid me on my weak fits-on my contradictory purposes-on my irresolution-and all will be well.

LETTER CLXXXII.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
Wednesday Night.

A MAN is just now arrived from M. Hall, who tells me that my lord is in a very dangerous way. The gout in his stomach to an extreme degree, occasioned by drinking a great quantity of lemonade.

A man of £8000 a-year to prefer his appetite to his health!-He deserves to die!-But we have all of us our inordinate passions to gratify; and they generally bring their punishment along with them-so witnesses the nephew, as well as the uncle.

The fellow was sent upon other business; but stretched his orders a little, to make his court to

a successor.

I am glad I was not at M. Hall, at the time my lord took the grateful doze: [it was certainly grateful to him at the time: there are people in the world, who would have had the wickedness to say that I had persuaded him to drink it.

The man says, that his lordship was so bad, when he came away, that the family began to talk of sending for me in post haste. As I know the old peer has a good deal of cash by him, of which he seldom keeps account, it behoves me to go down as soon as I can. But what shall I do with this dear creature the while?-To-morrow over, I shall, perhaps, be able to answer my own question. I am afraid she will make me desperate.

For here have I sent to implore her company, and am denied with scorn.

I HAVE been so happy as to receive, this moment, a third letter from my dear correspondent Miss Howe. A little severe devil!—It would have broken the heart of my beloved, had it fallen into her hands. I will enclose a copy of it. Read it here.

Tuesday, June 20.

MY DEAREST MISS HARLOWE, AGAIN I venture to write you, (almost against