She was in a charming pretty passion.  And this was the first time that I had the odds in my favour.

Well, Madam, it is just as I thought.  And now I know how to account for a temper that I hope is not natural to you.

Artful wretch! and is it thus you would entrap me?  But know, Sir, that I received letters from nobody but Miss Howe.  Miss Howe likes some of your ways as little as I do; for I have set every thing before her.  Yet she is thus far your enemy, as she is mine.  She thinks I could not refuse your offers; but endeavour to make the best of my lot.  And now you have the truth.  Would to heaven you were capable of dealing with equal sincerity!

I am, Madam.  And here, on my knee, I renew my vows, and my supplication, that you will make me your’s.  Your’s for ever.  And let me have cause to bless you and Miss Howe in the same breath.

To say the truth, Belford, I had before begun to think that the vixen of a girl, who certainly likes not Hickman, was in love with me.

Rise, Sir, from your too-ready knees; and mock me not!

Too-ready knees, thought I!  Though this humble posture so little affects this proud beauty, she knows not how much I have obtained of others of her sex, nor how often I have been forgiven for the last attempts, by kneeling.

Mock you, Madam!  And I arose, and re-urged her for the day.  I blamed myself, at the same time, for the invitation I had given to Lord M., as it might subject me to delay from his infirmities:  but told her, that I would write to him to excuse me, if she had no objection; or to give him the day she would give me, and not wait for him, if he could not come in time.

My day, Sir, said she, is never.  Be not surprised.  A person of politeness judging between us, would not be surprised that I say so.  But indeed, Mr. Lovelace, [and wept through impatience,] you either know not how to treat with a mind of the least degree of delicacy, notwithstanding your birth and education, or you are an ungrateful man; and [after a pause] a worse than ungrateful one.  But I will retire.  I will see you again to-morrow.  I cannot before.  I think I hate you.  And if, upon a re-examination of my own heart, I find I do, I would not for the world that matters should go on farther between us.

But I see, I see, she does not hate me!  How it would mortify my vanity, if I thought there was a woman in the world, much more this, that could hate me!  ’Tis evident, villain as she thinks me, that I should not be an odious villain, if I could but at last in one instance cease to be a villain!  She could not hold it, determined as she had thought herself, I saw by her eyes, the moment I endeavoured to dissipate her apprehensions, on my too-ready knees, as she calls them.  The moment the rough covering my teasing behaviour has thrown over her affections is quite removed, I doubt not to find all silk and silver at the bottom, all soft, bright, and charming.