Determine you as to Mr. Lovelace, Madam? interrupted the Captain.

Cl.  I am already determined as to him.

Capt.  If it be not in his favour, I have done.  I cannot use stronger arguments than I have used, and it would be impertinent to repeat them.  If you cannot forgive his offence, I am sure it must have been much greater than he has owned to me.  If you are absolutely determined, be pleased to let me know what I shall say to your uncle?  You were pleased to tell me, that this day would put an end to what you called my trouble:  I should not have thought it any, could I have been an humble mean of reconciling persons of worth and honour to each other.

Here I entered with a solemn air.

Lovel.  Captain Tomlinson, I have heard a part of what has passed between you and this unforgiving (however otherwise excellent) lady.  I am cut to the heart to find the dear creature so determined.  I could not have believed it possible, with such prospects, that I had so little share in her esteem.  Nevertheless I must do myself justice with regard to the offence I was so unhappy as to give, since I find you are ready to think it much greater than it really was.

Cl.  I hear not, Sir, your recapitulations.  I am, and ought to be, the sole judge of insults offered to my person.  I enter not into discussion with you, nor hear you on the shocking subject.  And was going.

I put myself between her and the door—­You may hear all I have to say, Madam.  My fault is not of such a nature, but that you may.  I will be a just accuser of myself; and will not wound your ears.

I then protested that the fire was a real fire. [So it was.] I disclaimed [less truly] premeditation.  I owned that I was hurried on by the violence of a youthful passion, and by a sudden impulse, which few other persons, in the like situation, would have been able to check:  that I withdrew, at her command and entreaty, on the promise of pardon, without having offered the least indecency, or any freedom, that would not have been forgiven by persons of delicacy, surprised in an attitude so charming—­her terror, on the alarm of fire, calling for a soothing behaviour, and personal tenderness, she being ready to fall into fits:  my hoped-for happy day so near, that I might be presumed to be looked upon as a betrothed lover—­and that this excuse might be pleaded even for the women of the house, that they, thinking us actually married, might suppose themselves to be the less concerned to interfere on so tender an occasion.—­[There, Jack, was a bold insinuation on behalf of the women!]

High indignation filled her disdainful eye, eye-beam after eye-beam flashing at me.  Every feature of her sweet face had soul in it.  Yet she spoke not.  Perhaps, Jack, she had a thought, that this plea for the women accounted for my contrivance to have her pass to them as married, when I first carried her thither.