Thou wouldest tell me, I suppose—I know what thou wouldest tell me—But
thinkest thou, that marriage will satisfy for a guilt like thine?
Destitute as thou hast made me both of friends and fortune, I too much
despise the wretch, who could rob himself of his wife’s virtue, to
endure the thoughts of thee in the light thou seemest to hope I will
accept thee in!—
I hesitated an interruption; but my meaning died away upon my trembling
lips. I could only pronounce the word marriage—and thus she proceeded:
Let me, therefore, know whether I am to be controuled in the future
disposal of myself? Whether, in a country of liberty, as this, where
the sovereign of it must not be guilty of your wickedness, and where
you neither durst have attempted it, had I one friend or relation to
look upon me, I am to be kept here a prisoner, to sustain fresh
injuries? Whether, in a word, you intend to hinder me from going where
my destiny shall lead me?
After a pause—for I was still silent:
Can you not answer me this plain question?—I quit all claim, all
expectation, upon you—what right have you to detain me here?