that I can look her
into a sweet confusion; are circumstances greatly in my favour. What can
she do but rave and exclaim? I am used to raving and exclaiming--but, if
recovered, I shall see how she behaves upon this our first sensible
interview after what she has suffered.

Here she comes.

LETTER XVIII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
SUNDAY NIGHT.

Never blame me for giving way to have art used with this admirable
creature. All the princes of the air, or beneath it, joining with me,
could never have subdued her while she had her senses.

I will not anticipate--only to tell thee, that I am too much awakened by
her to think of sleep, were I to go to bed; and so shall have nothing to
do but to write an account of our odd conversation, while it is so strong
upon my mind that I can think of nothing else.

She was dressed in a white damask night-gown, with less negligence than
for some days past. I was sitting with my pen in my fingers; and stood
up when I first saw her, with great complaisance, as if the day were
still her own. And so indeed it is.

She entered with such dignity in her manner as struck me with great awe,
and prepared me for the poor figure I made in the subsequent
conversation. A poor figure indeed!--But I will do her justice.

She came up with quick steps, pretty close to me; a white handkerchief
in her hand; her eyes neither fierce nor mild, but very earnest; and a
fixed sedateness in her whole aspect, which seemed to be the effect of
deep contemplation: and thus she accosted me, with an air and action that
I never saw equalled.

You see before you, Sir, the wretch, whose preference of you to all your
sex you have rewarded--as it indeed deserved to be rewarded. My father's
dreadful curse has already operated upon me in the very letter of it, as
to this life; and it seems to me too evident that it will not be your
fault that it is not entirely completed in the loss of my soul, as well
as of my honour--which you, villanous man! have robbed me of, with a
baseness so unnatural, so inhuman, that it seems you, even you, had not
the heart to attempt it, till my senses were made the previous sacrifice.

Here I made an hesitating effort to speak, laying down my pen: but she
proceeded!--Hear me out, guilty wretch!--abandoned man!--Man, did I say?
--Yet what name else can I? since the mortal worryings of the fiercest
beast would have been more natural, and infinitely more welcome, that