For the same reason, I forbear to communicate to you some new stories of the abhorred wretch himself which have come to my ears.  One, in particular, of so shocking a nature!—­Indeed, my dear, the man’s a devil.

The whole story of Mrs. Fretchville, and her house, I have no doubt to pronounce, likewise, an absolute fiction.—­Fellow!—­How my soul spurns the villain!

Your thought of going abroad, and your reasons for so doing, most sensibly affect me.  But be comforted, my dear; I hope you will not be under a necessity of quitting your native country.  Were I sure that that must be the cruel case, I would abandon all my better prospects, and soon be with you.  And I would accompany you whithersoever you went, and share fortunes with you:  for it is impossible that I should be happy, if I knew that you were exposed not only to the perils of the sea, but to the attempts of other vile men; your personal graces attracting every eye; and exposing you to those hourly dangers, which others, less distinguished by the gifts of nature, might avoid.—­All that I know that beauty (so greatly coveted, and so greatly admired) is good for.

O my dear, were I ever to marry, and to be the mother of a Clarissa, [Clarissa must be the name, if promisingly lovely,] how often would my heart ache for the dear creature, as she grew up, when I reflected that a prudence and discretion, unexampled in woman, had not, in you, been a sufficient protection to that beauty, which had drawn after it as many admirers as beholders!—­How little should I regret the attacks of that cruel distemper, as it is called, which frequently makes the greatest ravages in the finest faces!

SAT.  AFTERNOON.

I have just parted with Mrs. Townsend.* I thought you had once seen her with me; but she says she never had the honour to be personally known to you.  She has a manlike spirit.  She knows the world.  And her two brothers being in town, she is sure she can engage them in so good a cause, and (if there should be occasion) both their ships’ crews, in your service.

* For the account of Mrs. Townsend, &c. see Vol.  IV.  Letter XLII.

Give your consent, my dear; and the horrid villain shall be repaid with broken bones, at least, for all his vileness!

The misfortune is, Mrs. Townsend cannot be with you till Thursday next, or Wednesday, at soonest:  Are you sure you can be safe where you are till then?  I think you are too near London; and perhaps you had better be in it.  If you remove, let me, the very moment, know whither.

How my heart is torn, to think of the necessity so dear a creature is driven to of hiding herself!  Devilish fellow!  He must have been sportive and wanton in his inventions—­yet that cruel, that savage sportiveness has saved you from the sudden violence to which he has had recourse in the violation of others, of names and families not contemptible.  For such the villain always gloried to spread his snares.