worse than ghost-like appearance
of his, bodes some still bolder step. If he come hither (and very
desirous he is of my leave to come) I am afraid there will be murder. To
avoid that, if there were no other way, I would most willingly be buried
alive.

They are all in consultation--upon my letters, I suppose--so they were
in the morning; which occasioned my uncles to be at our church. I will
send you the copies of those letters, as I promised in my last, when
I see whether I can give you their answers with them. This letter is
all--I cannot tell what--the effect of apprehension and displeasure
at the man who has occasioned my apprehensions. Six lines would have
contained all that is in it to the purpose of my story.

CL. H.

LETTER XXXI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, MARCH 13.

In vain dost thou* and thy compeers press me to go to town, while I am
in such an uncertainty as I am in at present with this proud beauty.
All the ground I have hitherto gained with her is entirely owing to her
concern for the safety of people whom I have reason to hate.

*These gentlemen affected what they called the Roman style
(to wit, the thee and the thou) in their letters: and it was
an agreed rule with them, to take in good part whatever
freedoms they treated each other with, if the passages were
written in that style.

Write then, thou biddest me, if I will not come. That, indeed, I can do;
and as well without a subject, as with one. And what follows shall be a
proof of it.

The lady's malevolent brother has now, as I told thee at M. Hall,
introduced another man; the most unpromising in his person and
qualities, the most formidable in his offers, that has yet appeared.

This man has by his proposals captivated every soul of the
Harlowes--Soul! did I say--There is not a soul among them but my
charmer's: and she, withstanding them all, is actually confined, and
otherwise maltreated by a father the most gloomy and positive; at the
instigation of a brother the most arrogant and selfish. But thou knowest
their characters; and I will not therefore sully my paper with them.

But is it not a confounded thing to be in love with one, who is the
daughter, the sister, the niece, of a family, I must eternally despise?
And, the devil of it, that love increasing with her--what shall I call
it?--'Tis not scorn:--'Tis not pride:--'Tis not the insolence of an
adored beauty:--But 'tis to virtue, i