y, by their
persecutions of the dear lady at first, and by their implacableness
afterwards, ought, at least, to share the blame with him. There is even
great reason to believe, that a lady of such a religious turn, her virtue
neither to be surprised nor corrupted, her will inviolate, would have got
over a mere personal injury; especially as he would have done all that
was in his power to repair it; and as, from the application of all his
family in his favour, and other circumstances attending his sincere and
voluntary offer, the lady might have condescended, with greater glory to
herself, than if he had never offended.

When I have the pleasure of seeing you next, I will acquaint you, Sir,
with all the circumstances of this melancholy story; from which you will
see that Mr. Lovelace was extremely ill treated at first, by the whole
family, this admirable lady excepted. This exception, I know, heightens
his crime: but as his principal intention was but to try her virtue; and
that he became so earnest a suppliant to her for marriage; and as he has
suffered so deplorably in the loss of his reason, for not having it in
his power to repair her wrongs; I presume to hope that much is to be
pleaded against such a resolution as you are said to have made. I will
read to you, at the same time, some passages from letters of his; two of
which (one but this moment received) will convince you that the unhappy
man, who is but now recovering his intellects, needs no greater
punishment than what he has from his own reflections.

I have just now read over the copies of the dear lady's posthumous
letters. I send them all to you, except that directed for Mr. Lovelace;
which I reserve till I have the pleasure of seeing you. Let me entreat
you to read once more that written to yourself; and that to her brother;*
which latter I now send you; as they are in point to the present subject.

* See Letter XVI. of this volume.

I think, Sir, they are unanswerable. Such, at least, is the effect they
have upon me, that I hope I shall never be provoked to draw my sword
again in a private quarrel.

To the weight these must needs have upon you, let me add, that the
unhappy man has given no new occasion of offence, since your visit to him
at Lord M.'s, when you were so well satisfied of his intention to atone
for his crimes, that you yourself urged to your dear cousin her
forgiveness of him.

Let me also (though I presume to hope there is no