that I may never more see your face.

All that can afford you the least shadow of favour from me, arises from
the hoped-for reconciliation with my real friends, not my Judas
protector.

I am careless at present of consequences. I hate myself: And who is it I
have reason to value?--Not the man who could form a plot to disgrace his
own hopes, as well as a poor friendless creature, (made friendless by
himself,) by insults not to be thought of with patience.

***

TO MRS. LOVELACE

MADAM,
I will go to the Commons, and proceed in every particular as if I had not
the misfortune to be under your displeasure.

I must insist upon it, that however faulty my passion, on so unexpected
an incident, made me appear to a lady of your delicacy, yet my compliance
with your entreaties at such a moment [as it gave you an instance of your
power over me, which few men could have shown] ought, duly considered, to
entitle me to the effects of that solemn promise which was the condition
of my obedience.

I hope to find you in a kinder, and, I will say, juster disposition on my
return. Whether I get the license, or not, let me beg of you to make the
soon you have been pleased to bid me hope for, to-morrow morning. This
will reconcile every thing, and make me the happiest of men.

The settlements are ready to sign, or will be by night.

For Heaven's sake, Madam, do not carry your resentment into a displeasure
so disproportionate to the offence. For that would be to expose us both
to the people below; and, what is of infinite more consequence to us, to
Captain Tomlinson. Let us be able, I beseech you, Madam, to assure him,
on his next visit, that we are one.

As I have no hope to be permitted to dine with you, I shall not return
till evening: and then, I presume to say, I expect [your promise
authorizes me to use the word] to find you disposed to bless, by your
consent for to-morrow,

Your adoring
LOVELACE.

***

What pleasure did I propose to take, how to enjoy the sweet confusion in
which I expected to find her, while all was so recent!--But she must, she
shall, see me on my return. It were better to herself, as well as for
me, that she had not made so much ado about nothing. I must keep my anger
alive, lest it sink into compassion. Love and compassion, be the
provocation ever so great, are hard to be separated: while anger converts
what would be pity, without it, into resentment. Nothing can be lovely
in a ma