who trod over again your footsteps, as you walked
before them.'--And I know not what of this sort.

Upon the whole, it is now evident to me, and so it must be to you, when
you read this letter, that you must be his. And the sooner you are so
the better. Shall we suppose that marriage is not in your power?--I
cannot have patience to suppose that.

I am concerned, methinks, to know how you will do to condescend, (now you
see you must be his,) after you have kept him at such a distance; and for
the revenge his pride may put him upon taking for it. But let me tell
you, that if my going up, and sharing fortunes with you, will prevent
such a noble creature from stooping too low; much more, were it likely to
prevent your ruin, I would not hesitate a moment about it. What is the
whole world to me, weighed against such a friend as you are? Think you,
that any of the enjoyments of this life could be enjoyments to me, were
you involved in calamities, from which I could either alleviate or
relieve you, by giving up those enjoyments? And what in saying this, and
acting up to it, do I offer you, but the frits of a friendship your worth
has created?

Excuse my warmth of expression. The warmth of my heart wants none. I am
enraged at your relations; for, bad as what I have mentioned is, I have
not told you all; nor now, perhaps, ever will. I am angry at my own
mother's narrowness of mind, and at her indiscriminate adherence to old
notions. And I am exasperated against your foolish, your low-vanity'd
Lovelace. But let us stoop to take the wretch as he is, and make the
best of him, since you are destined to stoop, to keep grovellers and
worldlings in countenance. He had not been guilty of a direct indecency
to you. Nor dare he--not so much of a devil as that comes to neither.
Had he such villainous intentions, so much in his power as you are, they
would have shewn themselves before now to such a penetrating and vigilant
eye, and to such a pure heart as yours. Let us save the wretch then, if
we can, though we soil our fingers in lifting him up his dirt.

There is yet, to a person of your fortune and independence, a good deal
to do, if you enter upon those terms which ought to be entered upon. I
don't find that he has once talked of settlements; nor yet of the
license. A foolish wretch!--But as your evil destiny has thrown you out
of all other protection and mediation, you must be father, mother, uncle,
to yourself; and