Cruel creature, thought I, to expose me thus to the derision of the women below!

Going abroad, Madam!

I am, Sir.

I looked cursed silly, I am sure.  You will breakfast first, I hope, Madam; and a very humble strain; yet with an hundred tender looks in my heart.

Had she given me more notice of her intention, I had perhaps wrought myself up to the frame I was in the day before, and begun my vengeance.  And immediately came into my head all the virulence that had been transcribed for me from Miss Howe’s letters, and in that letter which I had transcribed myself.

Yes, she would drink one dish; and then laid her gloves and fan in the window just by.

I was perfectly disconcerted.  I hemm’d, and was going to speak several times; but I knew not in what key.  Who’s modest now! thought I. Who’s insolent now!—­How a tyrant of a woman confounds a bashful man!  She was acting Miss Howe, I thought; and I the spiritless Hickman.

At last, I will begin, thought I.

She a dish—­I a dish.

Sip, her eyes her own, she; like a haughty and imperious sovereign, conscious of dignity, every look a favour.

Sip, like her vassal, I; lips and hands trembling, and not knowing that I sipp’d or tasted.

I was—­I was—­I sipp’d—­(drawing in my breath and the liquor together, though I scalded my mouth with it) I was in hopes, Madam—­

Dorcas came in just then.—­Dorcas, said she, is a chair gone for?

Damn’d impertinence, thought I, thus to put me out in my speech!  And I was forced to wait for the servant’s answer to the insolent mistress’s question.

William is gone for one, Madam.

This cost me a minute’s silence before I could begin again.  And then it was with my hopes, and my hopes, and my hopes, that I should have been early admitted to—­

What weather is it, Dorcas? said she, as regardless of me as if I had not been present.

A little lowering, Madam—­The sun is gone in—­it was very fine half an hour ago.

I had no patience.  Up I rose.  Down went the tea-cup, saucer and all—­ Confound the weather, the sunshine, and the wench!—­Begone for a devil, when I am speaking to your lady, and have so little opportunity given me.

Up rose the saucy-face, half-frighted; and snatched from the window her gloves and fan.

You must not go, Madam!—­Seizing her hand—­by my soul you must not—­

Must not, Sir!—­But I must—­you can curse your maid in my absence, as well as if I were present——­Except—­except—­you intend for me, what you direct to her.

Dearest creature, you must not go—­you must not leave me—­Such determined scorn! such contempts!—­Questions asked your servant of no meaning but to break in upon me—­I cannot bear it!

Detain me not [struggling.] I will not be withheld.  I like you not, nor your ways.  You sought to quarrel with me yesterday, for no reason in the world that I can think of, but because I was too obliging.  You are an ungrateful man; and I hate you with my whole heart, Mr. Lovelace!