*****
The wench is gone. The time of meeting is at hand. O that he may not
come!--But should I, or should I not, meet him?--How I question, without
possibility of a timely answer!
Betty, according to my leading hint to my aunt, boasted to me, that she
was to be employed, as she called it, after she had eat her own dinner.
She should be sorry, she told me, to have me found out. Yet 'twould be
all for my good. I should have it in my power to be forgiven for all at
once, before Wednesday night. The confident creature then, to stifle a
laugh, put a corner of her apron in her mouth, and went to the door:
and on her return to take away, as I angrily bid her, she begged my
excuse--but--but--and then the saucy creature laughed again, she could
not help it, to think how I had drawn myself in by my summer-house
dinnering, since it had given so fine an opportunity, by way of
surprise, to look into all my private hoards. She thought something was
in the wind, when my brother came into my dining here so readily. Her
young master was too hard for every body. 'Squire Lovelace himself was
nothing at all at a quick thought to her young master.
My aunt mentioned Mr. Lovelace's boasting behaviour to his servants:
perhaps he may be so mean. But as to my brother, he always took a pride
in making himself appear to be a man of parts and learning to our
own servants. Pride and meanness, I have often thought, are as nearly
allied, and as close borderers upon each other, as the poet tells us wit
and madness are.
But why do I trouble you (and myself, at such a crisis) with these
impertinences?--Yet I would forget, if I could, the nearest evil, the
interview; because, my apprehensions increasing as the hour is at hand,
I should, were my intentions to be engrossed by them, be unfit to see
him, if he does come: and then he will have too much advantage over me,
as he will have seeming reason to reproach me with change of resolution.
The upbraider, you know, my dear, is in some sense a superior; while the
upbraided, if with reason upbraided, must make a figure as spiritless as
conscious.
I know that this wretch will, if he can, be his own judge, and mine too.
But the latter he shall not be.
I dare say, we shall be all to pieces. But I don't care for that. It
would be hard, if I, who have held it out so sturdily to my father and
uncles, should not--but he is at the garden-door--
*****
I was mistaken!--How many noises unlike, be made like to what one
fears!--Why flutters the fool so--!
*****
I will hasten to deposit this. Then I will, for the last time, go to the
usual place, in hopes to find that he has got my letter. If he has, I
will not meet him. If he has not, I will take it back, and shew him what
I have written. That will break the ice, as I may say, and save me much
circumlocution and reasoning: and a steady adherence to that my written
mind is all that will be necessary.--The interview must be as short as
possible; for should it be discovered, it would furnish a new and strong
pretence for the intended evil of Wednesday next.
Perhaps I shall not be able to write again one while. Perhaps not till
I am the miserable property of that Solmes!--But that shall never, never
be, while I have my senses.
If your servant find nothing from me by Wednesday morning, you may then
conclude that I can neither write to you, nor receive your favours.
In that case, pity and pray for me, my beloved friend; and continue to
me that place in your affection, which is the pride of my life, and the
only comfort left to
Your CL. HARLOWE.