The busy scenes I have just passed through have given emotions to my heart, which will not be quieted one while.  My heart, I see, (on re-perusing what I have written,) has communicated its tremors to my fingers; and in some places the characters are so indistinct and unformed, that thou’lt hardly be able to make them out.  But if one half of them is only intelligible, that will be enough to expose me to thy contempt, for the wretched hand I have made of my plots and contrivances.  —­But surely, Jack, I have gained some ground by this promise.

And now, one word to the assurances thou sendest me, that thou hast not betrayed my secrets in relation to this charming creature.  Thou mightest have spared them, Belford.  My suspicions held no longer than while I wrote about them.* For well I knew, when I allowed myself time to think, that thou hadst no principles, no virtue, to be misled by.  A great deal of strong envy, and a little of weak pity, I knew to be thy motives.  Thou couldst not provoke my anger, and my compassion thou ever hadst; and art now more especially entitled to it; because thou art a pityful fellow.

All thy new expostulations in my beloved’s behalf I will answer when I see thee.

LETTER XXXII

Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, ESQ. 
Thursday night.

Confoundedly out of humour with this perverse woman!—­Nor wilt thou blame me, if thou art my friend.  She regards the concession she made, as a concession extorted from her:  and we are but just where we were before she made it.

With great difficulty I prevailed upon her to favour me with her company for one half hour this evening.  The necessity I was under to go down to M. Hall was the subject I wanted to talk upon.

I told her, that as she had been so good as to promise that she would endeavour to make herself easy till she saw the Thursday in next week over, I hoped that she would not scruple to oblige me with her word, that I should find her here at my return from M. Hall.

Indeed she would make no such promise.  Nothing of this house was mentioned to me, said she:  you know it was not.  And do you think that I would have given my consent to my imprisonment in it?

I was plaguily nettled, and disappointed too.  If I go not down to Mr. Hall, Madam, you’ll have no scruple to stay here, I suppose, till Thursday is over?

If I cannot help myself I must—­but I insist upon being permitted to go out of this house, whether you leave it or not.

Well, Madam, then I will comply with your commands.  And I will go out this very evening in quest of lodgings that you shall have no objections to.

I will have no lodgings of your providing, Sir—­I will go to Mrs. Moore’s, at Hampstead.

Mrs. Moore’s, Madam!—­I have no objection to Mrs. Moore’s—­but will you give me your promise, to admit me there to your presence?