MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY AFTERNOON, SIX O’CLOCK,
(JUNE 18.)
I went out early this morning, and returned not till just now; when I
was informed that my beloved, in my absence, had taken it into her head
to attempt to get away.
She tripped down, with a parcel tied up in a handkerchief, her hood on;
and was actually in the entry, when Mrs. Sinclair saw her.
Pray, Madam, whipping between her and the street-door, be pleased to
let me know where you are going?
Who has a right to controul me? was the word.
I have, Madam, by order of your spouse: and, kemboing her arms, as she
owned, I desire you will be pleased to walk up again.
She would have spoken; but could not: and, bursting into tears, turned
back, and went up to her chamber: and Dorcas was taken to task for
suffering her to be in the passage before she was seen.
This shows, as we hoped last night, that she is recovering her charming
intellects.
Dorcas says, she was visible to her but once before the whole day; and
then she seemed very solemn and sedate.
I will endeavour to see her. It must be in her own chamber, I suppose;
for she will hardly meet me in the dining-room. What advantage will the
confidence of our sex give me over the modesty of her’s, if she be
recovered!—I, the most confident of men: she, the most delicate of
women. Sweet soul! methinks I have her before me: her face averted:
speech lost in sighs—abashed—conscious—what a triumphant aspect will
this give me, when I gaze on her downcast countenance!
This moment Dorcas tells me she believes she is coming to find me out.
She asked her after me: and Dorcas left her, drying her red-swoln eyes
at her glass; [no design of moving me by tears!] sighing too sensibly
for my courage. But to what purpose have I gone thus far, if I pursue
not my principal end? Niceness must be a little abated. She knows the
worst. That she cannot fly me; that she must see me; and that I can
look her into a sweet confusion; are circumstances greatly in my
favour. What can she do but rave and exclaim? I am used to raving and
exclaiming—but, if recovered, I shall see how she behaves upon this our
first sensible interview after what she has suffered.
Here she comes.