She would be very loth, I said, that Mrs. Sinclair and her nieces should be called up to vindicate themselves and their house.

Would but they kill me, let them come, and welcome, I will bless the hand that will strike the blow!  Indeed I will.

’Tis idle, very idle, to talk of dying.  Mere young-lady talk, when controuled by those they hate.  But let me beseech you, dearest creature ——­

Beseech me nothing.  Let me not be detained thus against my will!—­ Unhappy creature that I am, said she, in a kind of phrensy, wringing her hands at the same time, and turning from me, her eyes lifted up!  ’Thy curse, O my cruel father, seems to be now in the height of its operation!  —­My weakened mind is full of forebodings, that I am in the way of being a lost creature as to both worlds!  Blessed, blessed God, said she, falling on her knees, save me, O save me, from myself and from this man!’

I sunk down on my knees by her, excessively affecting—­O that I could recall yesterday!—­Forgive me, my dearest creature, forgive what is past, as it cannot now, but by one way, be retrieved.  Forgive me only on this condition—­That my future faith and honour—­

She interrupted me, rising—­If you mean to beg of me never to seek to avenge myself by law, or by an appeal to my relations, to my cousin Morden in particular, when he comes to England——­

D—­n the law, rising also, [she started,] and all those to whom you talk of appealing!—­I defy both the one and the other—­All I beg is your forgiveness; and that you will, on my unfeigned contrition, re-establish me in your favour——­

O no, no, no! lifting up her clasped hands, I never never will, never, never can forgive you!—­and it is a punishment worse than death to me, that I am obliged to meet you, or to see you.

This is the last time, my dearest life, that you will ever see me in this posture, on this occasion:  and again I kneeled to her.  Let me hope, that you will be mine next Thursday, your uncle’s birth-day, if not before.  Would to Heaven I had never been a villain!  Your indignation is not, cannot be greater, than my remorse—­and I took hold of her gown for she was going from me.

Be remorse thy portion!—­For thine own sake, be remorse thy portion!—­I never, never will forgive thee!—­I never, never will be thine!—­Let me retire!—­Why kneelest thou to the wretch whom thou hast so vilely humbled?

Say but, dearest creature, you will consider—­say but you will take time to reflect upon what the honour of both our families requires of you.  I will not rise.  I will not permit you to withdraw [still holding her gown] till you tell me you will consider.—­Take this letter.  Weigh well your situation, and mine.  Say you will withdraw to consider; and then I will not presume to withold [sic] you.

Compulsion shall do nothing with me.  Though a slave, a prisoner, in circumstance, I am no slave in my will!—­Nothing will I promise thee!—­ Withheld, compelled—­nothing will I promise thee!