ear what he has to say, and
send you an account of it.

But in less than a week if you see me, it must be owing to a fresh act of
violence, of which you know not the consequence.

Send me the requested line, if ever you expect to have the forgiveness
confirmed, the promise of which you extorted from

The unhappy
CL. H.

***

Now, Belford, what canst thou say in behalf of this sweet rogue of a
lady? What canst thou say for her? 'Tis apparent, that she was fully
determined upon an elopement when she wrote it. And thus would she make
me of party against myself, by drawing me in to give her a week's time to
complete it. And, more wicked still, send me upon a fool's errand to
bring up one of my cousins.--When we came to have the satisfaction of
finding her gone off, and me exposed for ever!--What punishment can be
bad enough for such a little villain of a lady?

But mind, moreover, how plausibly she accounts by this billet, (supposing
she should not find an opportunity of eloping before I returned,) for the
resolution of not seeing me for a week; and for the bread and butter
expedient!--So childish as we thought it!

The chariot is not come; and if it were, it is yet too soon for every
thing but my impatience. And as I have already taken all my measures,
and can think of nothing but my triumph, I will resume her violent
letter, in order to strengthen my resolutions against her. I was before
in too gloomy a way to proceed with it. But now the subject is all alive
to me, and my gayer fancy, like the sunbeams, will irradiate it, and turn
the solemn deep-green into a brighter verdure.

When I have called upon my charmer to explain some parts of her letter,
and to atone for others, I will send it, or a copy of it, to thee.

Suffice it at present to tell thee, in the first place, that she is
determined never to be my wife.--To be sure there ought to be no
compulsion in so material a case. Compulsion was her parents' fault,
which I have censured so severely, that I shall hardly be guilty of the
same. I am therefore glad I know her mind as to this essential point.

I have ruined her! she says.--Now that's a fib, take it her own way--if I
had, she would not, perhaps, have run away from me.

She is thrown upon the wide world! Now I own that Hampstead-heath
affords very pretty and very extensive prospects; but 'tis not the wide
world neither. And suppose that to be her grievance, I hope soon to
restore her