Duty and nature, Sir, call upon me to make the submissions you speak of:  there is a father, there is a mother, there are uncles in the one case, to justify and demand those submissions.  What, pray, Sir, can be pleaded for the condescension, as you call it?  Will you say, your merits, either with regard to them, or to myself, may?

This, Madam, to be said, after the persecutions of those relations!  After what you have suffered!  After what you have made me hope!  Let me, my dearest creature, ask you, (we have been talking of pride,) What sort of pride must his be, which can dispense with inclination and preference in the lady whom he adores?—­What must that love—­

Love, Sir! who talks of love?—­Was not merit the thing we were talking of?—­Have I ever professed, have I ever required of you professions of a passion of that nature?—­But there is no end of these debatings; each so faultless, each so full of self—­

I do not think myself faultless, Madam:—­but—­

But what, Sir!—­Would you ever more argue with me, as if you were a child?—­Seeking palliations, and making promises?—­Promises of what, Sir?  Of being in future the man it is a shame a gentleman is not?—­Of being the man—­

Good God! interrupted he, with eyes lifted up, if thou wert to be thus severe—­

Well, well, Sir! [impatiently] I need only to observe, that all this vast difference in sentiment shows how unpaired our minds are—­so let us—­

Let us what, Madam?—­My soul is rising into tumults!  And he looked so wildly, that I was a good deal terrified—­Let us what, Madam?——­

I was, however, resolved not to desert myself—­Why, Sir! let us resolve to quit every regard for each other.—­Nay, flame not out—­I am a poor weak-minded creature in some things:  but where what I should be, or not deserve to live, if I am not is in the question, I have a great and invincible spirit, or my own conceit betrays me—­let us resolve to quit every regard for each other that is more than civil.  This you may depend upon:  I will never marry any other man.  I have seen enough of your sex; at least of you.—­A single life shall ever be my choice:  while I will leave you at liberty to pursue your own.

Indifference, worse than indifference! said he, in a passion—­

Interrupting him—­Indifference let it be—­you have not (in my opinion at least) deserved that it should be other:  if you have in your own, you have cause (at least your pride has) to hate me for misjudging you.

Dearest, dearest creature! snatching my hand with fierceness, let me beseech you to be uniformly noble!  Civil regards, Madam!—­Civil regards!  —­Can you so expect to narrow and confine such a passion as mine?

Such a passion as yours, Mr. Lovelace, deserves to be narrowed and confined.  It is either the passion you do not think it, or I do not.  I question whether your mind is capable of being so narrowed and so widened, as is necessary to make it be what I wish it to be.  Lift up your hands and your eyes, Sir, in silent wonder, if you please; but what does that wonder express, what does it convince me of, but that we are not born for one another.