goodness to you in the garden?--This is not of a piece with your conduct
and softness there, that quite charmed me in your favour: And you must
not give me cause to think that you will be the more insolent, as
you find me kinder. Ah! sir, said I, you know best your own heart and
designs! But I fear I was too open-hearted then; and that you still
keep your resolution to undo me, and have only changed the form of your
proceedings.

When I tell you once again, said he, a little sternly, that you cannot
oblige me more, than by placing some confidence in me, I will let you
know, that these foolish and perverse doubts are the worst things you
can be guilty of. But, said he, I shall possibly account for the cause
of them, in these papers of yours; for I doubt not you have been sincere
to your father and mother, though you begin to make me suspect you: For
I tell you, perverse girl, that it is impossible you should be thus cold
and insensible, after what has passed in the garden, if you were not
prepossessed in some other person's favour: And let me add, that if I
find it so, it shall be attended with such effects, as will make every
vein in your heart bleed.

He was going away in wrath; and I said, One word, good sir, one
word before you read them, since you will read them: Pray make
allowances--for all the harsh reflections that you will find in them,
on your own conduct to me: And remember only, that they were not written
for your sight; and were penned by a poor creature hardly used, and who
was in constant apprehension of receiving from you the worst treatment
that you could inflict upon her.

If that be all, said he, and there be nothing of another nature, that
I cannot forgive, you have no cause for uneasiness; for I had as many
instances of your saucy reflections upon me in your former letters, as
there were lines; and yet, you see, I have never upbraided you on that
score; though, perhaps, I wished you had been more sparing of your
epithets, and your freedoms of that sort.

Well, sir, said I, since you will, you must read them; and I think I
have no reason to be afraid of being found insincere, or having, in any
respect, told you a falsehood; because, though I don't remember all
I wrote, yet I know I wrote my heart; and that is not deceitful. And
remember, sir, another thing, that I always declared I thought myself
right to endeavour to make my escape from this forced and illegal
restraint; and so you must not be