How do you, Mr. Lovelace?

O my best love!--Very well!--Very well!--Nothing at all! nothing of
consequence!--I shall be well in an instant!--Straining again! for I was
indeed plaguy sick, though no more blood came.

In short, Belford, I have gained my end. I see the dear soul loves me.
I see she forgives me all that's past. I see I have credit for a new
score.

Miss Howe, I defy thee, my dear--Mrs. Townsend!--Who the devil are you?--
Troop away with your contrabands. No smuggling! nor smuggler, but
myself! Nor will the choicest of my fair-one's favours be long
prohibited goods to me!

***

Every one is now sure that she loves me. Tears were in her eyes more
than once for me. She suffered me to take her hand, and kiss it as often
as I pleased. On Mrs. Sinclair's mentioning, that I too much confined
myself, she pressed me to take an airing; but obligingly desired me to be
careful of myself. Wished I would advise with a physician. God made
physicians, she said.

I did not think that, Jack. God indeed made us all. But I fancy she
meant physic instead of physicians; and then the phrase might mean what
the vulgar phrase means;--God sends meat, the Devil cooks.

I was well already, on taking the styptic from her dear hands.

On her requiring me to take the air, I asked, If I might have the honour
of her company in a coach; and this, that I might observe if she had an
intention of going out in my absence.

If she thought a chair were not a more proper vehicle for my case, she
would with all her heart!

There's a precious!

I kissed her hand again! She was all goodness!--Would to Heaven I better
deserved it, I said!--But all were golden days before us!--Her presence
and generous concern had done every thing. I was well! Nothing ailed
me. But since my beloved will have it so, I'll take a little airing!--
Let a chair be called!--O my charmer! were I to have owned this
indisposition to my late harasses, and to the uneasiness I have had for
disobliging you; all is infinitely compensated by your goodness.--All the
art of healing is in your smiles!--Your late displeasure was the only
malady!

While Mrs. Sinclair, and Dorcas, and Polly, and even poor silly Mabell
[for Sally went out, as my angel came in] with uplifted hands and eyes,
stood thanking Heaven that I was better, in audible whispers: See the
power of love, cried one!--What a charming husband, another!--Happy
couple, all!

O how the de