terror.

In this sweetly familiar way shall we set out together for London.
Mrs. Sorlings's eldest daughter, at my motion, is to attend her in the
chaise, while I ride by way of escort: for she is extremely apprehensive
of the Singleton plot; and has engaged me to be all patience, if any
thing should happen on the road. But nothing I am sure will happen:
for, by a letter received just now from Joseph, I understand, that
James Harlowe has already laid aside his stupid project: and this by the
earnest desire of all those of his friends to whom he had communicated
it; who were afraid of the consequences that might attend it. But it is
not over with me, however; although I am not determined at present as to
the uses I may make of it.

My beloved tells me, she shall have her clothes sent her. She hopes also
her jewels, and some gold, which she left behind her: but Joseph says,
clothes only will be sent. I will not, however, tell her that: on the
contrary, I say, there is no doubt but they will send all she wrote
for. The greater her disappointment from them, the greater must be her
dependence on me.

But, after all, I hope I shall be enabled to be honest to a merit so
transcendent. The devil take thee, though, for thy opinion, given so
mal-a-propos, that she may be overcome.

If thou designest to be honest, methinkst thou sayest, Why should not
Singleton's plot be over with thee, as it is with her brother?

Because (if I must answer thee) where people are so modestly doubtful of
what they are able to do, it is good to leave a loop-hole. And, let me
add, that when a man's heart is set upon a point, and any thing occurs
to beat him off, he will find it very difficult, when the suspending
reason ceases, to forbear resuming it.

LETTER LXI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, APRIL 25.

All hands at work in preparation for London.--What makes my heart beat
so strong? Why rises it to my throat in such half-choking flutters, when
I think of what this removal may do for me? I am hitherto resolved to
be honest, and that increases my wonder at these involuntary commotions.
'Tis a plotting villain of a heart: it ever was--and ever will be, I
doubt. Such a joy when any roguery is going forward!--I so little its
master!--A head, likewise, so well turned to answer the triangular
varlet's impulses!--No matter--I will have one struggle with thee, old
friend; and if I cannot overcome thee now, I never will again at