MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
PARIS, OCT. 16--27.
I follow my last of the 14/25th, on occasion of a letter just now come to
hand from Joseph Leman. The fellow is conscience ridden, Jack; and tells
me, 'That he cannot rest either day or night for the mischiefs which he
fears he has been, or may still further be the means of doing.' He
wishes, 'if it please God, and if it please me, that he had never seen my
Honour's face.'
And what is the cause of his present concern, as to his own particular?
What, but 'the slights and contempts which he receives from every one of
the Harlowes; from those particularly, he says, whom he has endeavoured
to serve as faithfully as his engagements to me would let him serve them?
And I always made him believe, he tells me, (poor weak soul as he was
from his cradle!) that serving me, was serving both, in the long run.--
But this, and the death of his dear young lady, is a grief, he declares,
that he shall never claw off, were he to love to the age of Matthew
Salem; althoff, and howsomever, he is sure, that he shall not live a
month to an end: being strangely pined, and his stomach nothing like what
it was; and Mrs. Betty being also (now she has got his love) very cross
and slighting. But, thank his God for punishing her!--She is in a poor
way hersell.
'But the chief occasion of troubling my Honour now, is not his own griefs
only, althoff they are very great; but to prevent further mischiefs to
me; for he can assure me, that Colonel Morden has set out from them all,
with a full resolution to have his will of me; and he is well assured,
that he said, and swore to it, as how he was resolved that he would
either have my Honour's heart's-blood, or I should have his; or some
such-like sad threatenings: and that all the family rejoice in it, and
hope I shall come short home.
This is the substance of Joseph's letter; and I have one from Mowbray,
which has a hint to the same effect. And I recollect now that you were
very importunate with me to go to Madrid, rather than to France and
Italy, the last evening we passed together.
What I desire of you, is, by the first dispatch, to let me faithfully
know all that you know on this head.
I can't bear to be threatened, Jack. Nor shall any man, unquestioned,
give himself airs in my absence, if I know it, that shall make me look
mean in any body's eyes; that shall give friends pain for me; that shall
put them upon wishing me to change my intentions, or my plan, to avoid
him. Upon such despicable terms as these, think you that I could bear to
live?
But why, if such were his purpose, did he not let me know it before I
left England? Was he unable to work himself up to a resolution, till he
knew me to be out of the kingdom?
As soon as I can inform myself where to direct to him, I will write to
know his purpose; for I cannot bear suspense in such a case as this; that
solemn act, were it even to be marriage or hanging, which must be done
to-morrow, I had rather should be done to-day. My mind tires and sickens
with impatience on ruminating upon scenes that can afford neither variety
nor certainty. To dwell twenty days in expectation of an even that may
be decided in a quarter of an hour is grievous.
If he come to Paris, although I should be on my tour, he will very easily
find out my lodgings. For I every day see some one or other of my
countrymen, and divers of them have I entertained here. I go frequently
to the opera and to the play, and appear at court, and at all public
places. And, on my quitting this city, will leave a direction whither my
letters from England, or elsewhere, shall from time to time be forwarded.
Were I sure that his intention is what Joseph Leman tells me it is, I
would stay here, or shorten his course to me, let him be where he would.
I cannot get off my regrets on account of this dear lady for the blood of
me. If the Colonel and I are to meet, as he has done me no injury, and
loves the memory of his cousin, we shall engage with the same sentiments,
as to the object of our dispute; and that, you know, is no very common
case.
In short, I am as much convinced that I have done wrong, as he can be;
and regret it as much. But I will not bear to be threatened by any man
in the world, however conscious I may be of having deserved blame.