it, but as from her throne, to her elders and betters; and to her father
and mother too!--Amazing, perfectly amazing, that any body could argue
upon such a proposal as this! It was a master-stroke of finesse--It was
ME in perfection!--Surely my uncle Harlowe will never again be so taken
in!'

All this was the readier told me, because it was against me, and would
tease and vex me. But as some of this fine recapitulation implied, that
somebody spoke up for me. I was curious to know who it was. But Betty
would not tell me, for fear I should have the consolation to find that
all were not against me.

But do you not see, my dear, what a sad creature she is whom you honour
with your friendship?--You could not doubt your influence over me: Why
did you not take the friendly liberty I have always taken with you,
and tell me my faults, and what a specious hypocrite I am? For, if my
brother and sister could make such discoveries, how is it possible, that
faults to enormous [you could see others, you thought, of a more secret
nature!] could escape you penetrating eye?

Well, but now, it seems, they are debating how and by whom to answer me:
for they know not, nor are they to know, that Mrs. Betty has told me all
these fine things. One desires to be excused, it seems: another chooses
not to have any thing to say to me: another has enough of me: and of
writing to so ready a scribbler, there will be no end.

Thus are those imputed qualifications, which used so lately to gain me
applause, now become my crimes: so much do disgust and anger alter the
property of things.

The result of their debate, I suppose, will somehow or other be
communicated to me by-and-by. But let me tell you, my dear, that I am
made so desperate, that I am afraid to open Mr. Lovelace's letter,
lest, in the humour I am in, I should do something (if I find it not
exceptionable) that may give me repentance as long as I live.

MONDAY NIGHT.

This moment the following letter is brought me by Betty.

MONDAY, 5 O'CLOCK

MISS CUNNING-ONE,

Your fine new proposal is thought unworthy of a particular answer. Your
uncle Harlowe is ashamed to be so taken in. Have you no new fetch for
your uncle Antony? Go round with us, child, now your hand's in. But I
was bid to write only one line, that you might not complain, as you
did of your worthy sister, for the freedoms you provoked: It is
this--Prepare yourself. To-morrow you go to my uncle Antony's. That's
all, ch