The devil take me, Belford, if my generous heart is not moved for her, notwithstanding her wicked deceit, to think what must be her reflections and apprehensions at the time:—­A mind so delicate, heeding no censures; yet, probably afraid of being laid hold of by a Lovelace in every one she saw!  At the same time, not knowing to what dangers she was about to expose herself; nor of whom she could obtain shelter; a stranger to the town, and to all its ways; the afternoon far gone:  but little money; and no clothes but those she had on!

It is impossible, in this little interval since last night, that Miss Howe’s Townsend could be co-operating.

But how she must abhor me to run all these risques; how heartily she must detest me for my freedoms of last night!  Oh! that I had given her greater reason for a resentment so violent!—­As to her virtue, I am too much enraged to give her the merit due to that.  To virtue it cannot be owing that she should fly from the charming prospects that were before her; but to malice, hatred, contempt, Harlowe pride, (the worst of pride,) and to all the deadly passions that ever reigned in a female breast—­and if I can but recover her—­But be still, be calm, be hushed, my stormy passions; for is it not Clarissa [Harlowe must I say?] that thus far I rave against?

’The fellow heard her say, drive fast! very fast!  Where, Madam?  To Holborn-bars, answered she; repeating, Drive very fast!—­And up she pulled both the windows:  and he lost sight of the coach in a minute.

’Will., as soon as he had this intelligence, speeded away in hopes to trace her out; declaring, that he would never think of seeing me, till he had heard some tidings of his lady.’

And now, Belford, all my hope is, that this fellow (who attended us in our airing to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill, to Kentish-town) will hear of her at some one or other of those places.  And on this I the rather build, as I remember she was once, after our return, very inquisitive about the stages, and their prices; praising the conveniency to passengers in their going off every hour; and this in Will.’s hearing, who was then in attendance.  Woe be to the villain, if he recollect not this!

***

I have been traversing her room, meditating, or taking up every thing she but touched or used:  the glass she dressed at, I was ready to break, for not giving me the personal image it was wont to reflect of her, whose idea is for ever present with me.  I call for her, now in the tenderest, now in the most reproachful terms, as if within hearing:  wanting her, I want my own soul, at least every thing dear to it.  What a void in my heart! what a chilness in my blood, as if its circulation was arrested!  From her room to my own; in the dining-room, and in and out of every place where I have seen the beloved of my heart, do I hurry; in none can I tarry; her lovely image in every one, in some lively attitude, rushing cruelly upon me, in differently remembered conversations.