ed
with no further consequence; and place some generous confidence in my
honour, [power loves to be trusted, Jack;] I think I would put an end to
all her trials, and pay her my vows at the altar.

Yet, to have taken such bold steps, as with Tomlinson and her uncle--to
have made such a progress--O Belford, Belford, how I have puzzled myself,
as well as her!--This cursed aversion to wedlock how it has entangled
me!--What contradictions has it made me guilty of!

How pleasing to myself, to look back upon the happy days I gave her;
though mine would doubtless have been unmixedly so, could I have
determined to lay aside my contrivances, and to be as sincere all the
time, as she deserved that I should be!

If I find this humour hold but till to-morrow morning, [and it has now
lasted two full hours, and I seem, methinks, to have pleasure in
encouraging it,] I will make thee a visit, I think, or get thee to come
to me; and then will I--consult thee upon it.

But she will not trust me. She will not confide in my honour. Doubt, in
this case, is defiance. She loves me not well enough to forgive me
generously. She is so greatly above me! How can I forgive her for a
merit so mortifying to my pride! She thinks, she knows, she has told me,
that she is above me. These words are still in my ears, 'Be gone,
Lovelace!--My soul is above thee, man!--Thou hast a proud heart to
contend with!--My soul is above thee, man!'* Miss Howe thinks her above
me too. Thou, even thou, my friend, my intimate friend and companion,
art of the same opinion. Then I fear her as much as I love her.--How
shall my pride bear these reflections? My wife (as I have often said,
because it so often recurs to my thoughts) to be so much my superior!--
Myself to be considered but as the second person in my own family!--Canst
thou teach me to bear such a reflection as this!--To tell me of my
acquisition in her, and that she, with all her excellencies, will be mine
in full property, is a mistake--it cannot be so--for shall I not be
her's; and not my own?--Will not every act of her duty (as I cannot
deserve it) be a condescension, and a triumph over me?--And must I owe
it merely to her goodness that she does not despise me?--To have her
condescend to bear with my follies!--To wound me with an eye of pity!--A
daughter of the Harlowes thus to excel the last, and as I have heretofore
said, not the meanest of the Lovelaces**--forbid it!

* See Vol. IV. Letter