Were not hesitation, a self-felt glow, a downcast eye, encouragement more than enough? and yet you will observe (as I now do on recollection) that he was in no great hurry to solicit for a day; since he had no thoughts of proposing settlements till I had got into my new house; and now, in his great complaisance to me, he desired leave to propose his terms, not with an expectation of my immediate answer; but for my consideration only —­Yet, my dear, your advice was too much in my head at this time.  I hesitated.

He urged on upon my silence; he would call God to witness to the justice, nay to the generosity of his intentions to me, if I would be so good as to hear what he had to propose to me, as to settlements.

Could not the man have fallen into the subject without this parade?  Many a point, you know, is refused, and ought to be refused, if leave be asked to introduce it; and when once refused, the refusal must in honour be adhered to—­whereas, had it been slid in upon one, as I may say, it might have merited further consideration.  If such a man as Mr. Lovelace knows not this, who should?

But he seemed to think it enough that he had asked my leave to propose his settlements.  He took no advantage of my silence, as I presume men as modest as Mr. Lovelace would have done in a like case:  yet, gazing in my face very confidently, and seeming to expect my answer, I thought myself obliged to give the subject a more diffuse turn, in order to save myself the mortification of appearing too ready in my compliance, after such a distance as had been between us; and yet (in pursuance of your advice) I was willing to avoid the necessity of giving him such a repulse as might again throw us out of the course—­a cruel alternative to be reduced to!

You talk of generosity, Mr. Lovelace, said I; and you talk of justice; perhaps, without having considered the force of the words, in the sense you use them on this occasion.—­Let me tell you what generosity is, in my sense of the word—­true generosity is not confined to pecuniary instances:  it is more than politeness:  it is more than good faith:  it is more than honour; it is more than justice; since all of these are but duties, and what a worthy mind cannot dispense with.  But true generosity is greatness of soul.  It incites us to do more by a fellow-creature than can be strictly required of us.  It obliges us to hasten to the relief of an object that wants relief; anticipating even such a one’s hope or expectation.  Generosity, Sir, will not surely permit a worthy mind to doubt of its honourable and beneficent intentions:  much less will it allow itself to shock, to offend any one; and, least of all, a person thrown by adversity, mishap, or accident, into its protection.

What an opportunity had he to clear his intentions had he been so disposed, from the latter part of this home observation!—­but he ran away with the first, and kept to that.