vertheless forgive you, were you to make all up
with him, and marry to-morrow. Yet I will proceed with my projected
scheme in relation to Mrs. Townsend; though I hope there will be no
occasion to prosecute it, since your prospects seem to be changed, and
since you have had twenty-four not unhappy hours together. How my
indignation rises for this poor consolation in the courtship [courtship
must I call it?] of such a woman! let me tell you, my dear, that were you
once your own absolute and independent mistress, I should be tempted,
notwithstanding all I have written, to wish you to be the wife of any man
in the world, rather than the wife either of Lovelace or of Solmes.

Mrs. Townsend, as I have recollected, has two brothers, each a master of
a vessel; and who knows, as she and they have concerns together, but
that, in case of need, you may have a whole ship's crew at your devotion?
If Lovelace give you cause to leave him, take no thought for the people
at Harlowe-place. Let them take care of one another. It is a care they
are used to. The law will help to secure them. The wretch is no
assassin, no night-murderer. He is an open, because a fearless enemy;
and should he attempt any thing that would make him obnoxious to the laws
of society, you might have a fair riddance of him, either by flight or
the gallows; no matter which.

Had you not been so minute in your account of the circumstances that
attended the opportunity you had of overhearing the dialogue between Mr.
Lovelace and two of the women, I should have thought the conference
contrived on purpose for your ear.

I showed Mr. Lovelace's proposals to Mr. Hickman, who had chambers once
in Lincoln's-inn, being designed for the law, had his elder brother
lived. He looked so wise, so proud, and so important, upon the occasion;
and wanted to take so much consideration about them--Would take them home
if I pleased--and weigh them well--and so forth--and the like--and all
that--that I had no patience with him, and snatched them back with anger.

O dear!--to be so angry, an't please me, for his zeal!--

Yes, zeal without knowledge, I said--like most other zeals--if there were
no objections that struck him at once, there were none.

So hasty, dearest Madam--

And so slow, un-dearest Sir, I could have said--But SURELY, said I, with
a look that implied, Would you rebel, Sir!

He begged my pardon--Saw no objection, indeed!--But might he be allowed
once more--