What! never, my angel!--Is this forgiveness?
Never, said she, let what has passed be remembered more!
I insisted upon one kiss to seal my pardon--and retired like a fool, a
woman's fool, as I was!--I sneakingly retired!--Couldst thou have
believed it?
But I had no sooner entered my own apartment, than reflecting upon the
opportunity I had lost, and that all I had gained was but an increase of
my own difficulties; and upon the ridicule I should meet with below upon
a weakness so much out of my usual character; I repented, and hastened
back, in hope that, through the distress of mind which I left her in, she
had not so soon fastened the door; and I was fully resolved to execute
all my purposes, be the consequence what it would; for, thought I, I have
already sinned beyond cordial forgiveness, I doubt; and if fits and
desperation ensue, I can but marry at last, and then I shall make her
amends.
But I was justly punished; for her door was fast: and hearing her sigh
and sob, as if her heart would burst, My beloved creature, said I,
rapping gently, [the sobbings then ceasing,] I want but to say three
words to you, which must be the most acceptable you ever heard from me.
Let me see you out for one moment.
I thought I heard her coming to open the door, and my heart leapt in that
hope; but it was only to draw another bolt, to make it still the faster;
and she either could not or would not answer me, but retired to the
farther end of her apartment, to her closet, probably; and, more like a
fool than before, again I sneaked away.
This was mine, my plot! and this was all I made of it!--I love her more
than ever!--And well I may!--never saw I polished ivory so beautiful as
her arms and shoulders; never touched I velvet so soft as her skin: her
virgin bosom--O Belford, she is all perfection! then such an elegance!--
In her struggling losing her shoe, (but just slipt on, as I told thee,)
her pretty foot equally white and delicate as the hand of any other
woman, or even her own hand!
But seest thou not that I have a claim of merit for a grace that every
body hitherto had denied me? and that is for a capacity of being moved by
prayers and tears--Where, where, on this occasion, was the callous, where
the flint, by which my heart was said to be surrounded?
This, indeed, is the first instance, in the like case, that ever I was
wrought upon. But why? because, I never before encountered a resistance
so much in earnest: a resistance, in short, so irresistible.
What a triumph has her sex obtained in my thoughts by this trial, and
this resistance?
But if she can now forgive me--can!--she must. Has she not upon her
honour already done it?--But how will the dear creature keep that part of
her promise which engages her to see me in the morning as if nothing had
happened?
She would give the world, I fancy, to have the first interview over!--She
had not best reproach me--yet not to reproach me!--what a charming
puzzle!--Let her break her word with me at her peril. Fly me she
cannot--no appeals lie from my tribunal--What friend has she in the
world, if my compassion exert not itself in her favour?--and then the
worthy Captain Tomlinson, and her uncle Harlowe, will be able to make all
up for me, be my next offence what it may.
As to thy apprehensions of her committing any rashness upon herself,
whatever she might have done in her passion, if she could have seized
upon her scissors, or found any other weapon, I dare say there is no fear
of that from her deliberate mind. A man has trouble enough with these
truly pious, and truly virtuous girls; [now I believe there are such;] he
had need to have some benefit from, some security in, the rectitude of
their minds.
In short, I fear nothing in this lady but grief: yet that's a slow
worker, you know; and gives time to pop in a little joy between its
sullen fits.