I speak, though with vehemence, the deliberate wish of my heart.—O that
I could avoid looking down upon thee, mean groveler, and abject as
insulting—Let me withdraw! My soul is in tumults! Let me withdraw!
I quitted my hold to clasp my hands together—Withdraw, O sovereign of
my fate!—Withdraw, if you will withdraw! My destiny is in your
power!—It depends upon your breath!—Your scorn but augments my love!
Your resentment is but too well founded!—But, dearest creature, return,
return, return, with a resolution to bless with pardon and peace your
faithful adorer!
She flew from me. The angel, as soon as she found her wings, flew from
me. I, the reptile kneeler, the despicable slave, no more the proud
victor, arose; and, retiring, tried to comfort myself, that,
circumstanced as she is, destitute of friends and fortune; her uncle
moreover, who is to reconcile all so soon, (as I thank my stars she
still believes,) expected.
O that she would forgive me!—Would she but generously forgive me, and
receive my vows at the altar, at the instant of her forgiving me, that
I might not have time to relapse into my old prejudices! By my soul,
Belford, this dear girl gives the lie to all our rakish maxims. There
must be something more than a name in virtue!—I now see that there
is!—Once subdued, always subdued—’Tis an egregious falsehood!—But, O
Jack, she never was subdued. What have I obtained but an increase of
shame and confusion!—While her glory has been established by her
sufferings!
This one merit is, however, left me, that I have laid all her sex under
obligation to me, by putting this noble creature to trials, which, so
gloriously supported, have done honour to them all.
However—But no more will I add—What a force have evil habits!—I will
take an airing, and try to fly from myself!—Do not thou upbraid me on
my weak fits—on my contradictory purposes—on my irresolution—and all
will be well.