it more convenient to carry me to your lodgings, make no scruple of it.  Let it be where it will:  if I am your wife I shall think no place unfit for me where you are.  I beg we may leave London next morning, wherever you intend to go.  I should wish to go out of England if it suits with your affairs.  You are the best judge of your father’s temper.  If you think it would be obliging to him, or necessary for you, I will go with you immediately to ask his pardon and his blessing.  If that is not proper at first, I think the best scheme is going to the Spa.  When you come back, you may endeavour to make your father admit of seeing me, and treat with mine (thought I persist in thinking it will be to no purpose).  But I cannot think of living in the midst of my relations and acquaintance after so unjustifiable a step:—­unjustifiable to the world,—­but I think I can justify myself to myself.  I again beg you to hire a coach to be at the door early Monday morning, to carry us some part of our way, wherever you resolve our journey shall be.  If you determine to go to that lady’s house, you had better come with a coach and six at seven o’clock to-morrow.  She and I will be in the balcony that looks on the road:  you have nothing to do but to stop under it, and we will come down to you.  Do in this what you like best.  After all, think very seriously.  Your letter, which will be waited for, is to determine everything.  I forgive you a coarse expression in your last, which, however, I wish had not been there.  You might have said something like it without expressing it in that manner; but there was so much complaisance in the rest of it I ought to be satisfied.  You can shew me no goodness I shall not be sensible of.  However, think again, and resolve never to think of me if you have the least doubt, or that it is likely to make you uneasy in your fortune.  I believe to travel is the most likely way to make a solitude agreeable, and not tiresome:  remember you have promised it.”

Even in this hour of excitement Lady Mary did not lose her head, and she asked for a settlement that would make her easy in her mind.

“Tis something odd for a woman that brings nothing to expect anything; but after the way of my education, I dare not pretend to live but in some degree suitable to it.  I had rather die than return to a dependancy upon relations I have disobliged.  Save me from that fear if you love me.  If you cannot, or think I ought not to expect it, be sincere and tell me so.  ’Tis better I should not be yours at all, than, for a short happiness, involve myself in ages of misery.  I hope there will never be occasion for this precaution; but, however, ’tis necessary to make it.  I depend entirely on your honour, and I cannot suspect you of any way doing wrong.  Do not imagine I shall be angry at anything you can tell me.  Let it be sincere; do not impose on a woman that leaves all things for you.”

No woman could be more sensible than was Lady Mary at this time, and she gave expression to the most exemplary sentiments.