and correspondence with each other:  Since, as to
     the latter, must not a person be capable of premedi-
     tated art, who can sit down to write, and not write
     from the heart?—­And a woman to write her heart
     to a man practised in deceit, or even to a man of
     some character, what advantage does it give him
     over her?

>>> As this man’s vanity had made him imagine, that
     no woman could be proof against love, when his
     address was honourable; no wonder that he
     struggled, like a lion held in toils, against a passion
     that he thought not returned.  And how could
     you, at first, show a return in love, to so fierce
     a spirit, and who had seduced you away by vile
     artifices, but to the approval of those artifices.

>>> Hence, perhaps, it is not difficult to believe, that
     it became possible for such a wretch as this to give
     way to his old prejudices against marriage; and to
     that revenge which had always been a first passion
     with him.

This is the only way, I think, to account for his
horrid views in bringing you to a vile house.

And now may not all the rest be naturally
accounted for?—­His delays—­his teasing ways—­
his bringing you to bear with his lodging in the
same house—­his making you pass to the people of
>>> it as his wife, though restrictively so, yet with hope,
no doubt, (vilest of villains as he is!) to take you
>>> at an advantage—­his bringing you into the com-
pany of his libertine companions—­the attempt of
imposing upon you that Miss Partington for a
bedfellow, very probably his own invention for
the worst of purposes—­his terrifying you at many
different times—­his obtruding himself upon you
when you went out to church; no doubt to prevent
your finding out what the people of the house were
—­the advantages he made of your brother’s foolish
project with Singleton.

See, my dear, how naturally all this follows from
>>> the discovery made by Miss Lardner.  See how
the monster, whom I thought, and so often called,
>>> a fool, comes out to have been all the time one of
the greatest villains in the world!

    But if this is so, what, [it would be asked by

an indifferent person,] has hitherto saved you? 
Glorious creature!—­What, morally speaking, but
your watchfulness!  What but that, and the
majesty of your virtue; the native dignity, which,
in a situation so very difficult, (friendless, destitute,
passing for a wife, cast into the company of crea-
tures accustomed to betray and ruin innocent hearts,)
has hitherto enabled you to baffle, over-awe, and
confound, such a dangerous libertine as this; so
habitually remorseless, as you have observed him
to be; so very various in his temper, so inventive,