In short, then, the dear creature’s letter is a collection of invectives not very new to me:  though the occasion for them, no doubt is new to her.  A little sprinkling of the romantic and contradictory runs through it.  She loves, and she hates; she encourages me to pursue her, by telling me I safely may; and yet she begs I will not.  She apprehends poverty and want, yet resolves to give away her estate; To gratify whom?—­Why, in short, those who have been the cause of her misfortunes.  And finally, though she resolves never to be mine, yet she has some regrets at leaving me, because of the opening prospects of a reconciliation with her friends.

But never did morning dawn so tardily as this!—­Neither is the chariot yet come.

***

A gentleman to speak with me, Dorcas?—­Who can want me thus early?

Captain Tomlinson, sayest thou?  Surely he must have traveled all night!  Early riser as I am, how could he think to find me up thus early?

Let but the chariot come, and he shall accompany me in it to the bottom of the hill, (though he return to town on foot; for the Captain is all obliging goodness,) that I may hear all he has to say, and tell him all my mind, and lose no time.

Well, now I am satisfied that this rebellious flight will turn to my advantage, as all crushed rebellions do to the advantage of a sovereign in possession.

***

Dear Captain, I rejoice to see you—­just in the nick of time—­See!  See!

      The rosy-finger’d morn appears,
      And from her mantle shakes her tears: 
      The sun arising mortals cheers,
      And drives the rising mists away,
      In promise of a glorious day.

Excuse me, Sir, that I salute you from my favourite bard.  He that rises with the lark will sing with the lark.  Strange news since I saw you, Captain!—­Poor mistaken lady!—­But you have too much goodness, I know, to reveal to her uncle Harlowe the error of this capricious beauty.  It will all turn out for the best.  You must accompany me part of the way.  I know the delight you take in composing differences.  But ’tis the task of the prudent to heal the breaches made by the rashness and folly of the imprudent.

***

And now, (all around me so still and so silent,) the rattling of the chariot-wheels at a street’s distance do I hear!  And to this angel of a woman I fly!

Reward, O God of Love! [The cause is thy own!] Reward thou, as it deserves, my suffering perseverance!—­Succeed my endeavours to bring back to thy obedience this charming fugitive!  Make her acknowledge her rashness; repent her insults; implore my forgiveness; beg to be reinstated in my favour, and that I will bury in oblivion the remembrance of her heinous offence against thee, and against me, thy faithful votary.

***

The chariot at the door!—­I come!  I come!

I attend you, good Captain—­