Thou wilt see the situation I am in with Miss Harlowe by the enclosed
copies of three letters; to two of which I am so much scorned as not to
have one word given me in answer; and of the third (now sent by the
messenger who brings thee this) I am afraid as little notice will be
taken—and if so, her day of grace is absolutely over.
One would imagine (so long used to constraint too as she has been) that
she might have been satisfied with the triumph she had over us all on
Friday night! a triumph that to this hour has sunk my pride and my
vanity so much, that I almost hate the words, plot, contrivance,
scheme; and shall mistrust myself in future for every one that rises to
my inventive head.
But seest thou not that I am under a necessity to continue her at
Sinclair’s and to prohibit all her correspondencies?
Now, Belford, as I really, in my present mood, think of nothing less
than marrying her, if she let not Thursday slip, I would have thee
attend her, in pursuance of the intimation I have given her in my
letter of this date; and vow for me, swear for me, bind thy soul to her
for my honour, and use what arguments thy friendly heart can suggest,
in order to procure me an answer from her; which, as thou wilt see, she
may give in four words only. And then I purpose to leave Lord M.
(dangerously ill as he is,) and meet her at her appointed church, in
order to solemnize. If she will but sign Cl. H. to thy writing the four
words, that shall do: for I would not come up to be made a fool of in
the face of all my family and friends.
If she should let the day go off, I shall be desperate. I am entangled
in my own devices, and cannot bear that she should detect me.
O that I had been honest!—What a devil are all my plots come to! What
do they end in, but one grand plot upon myself, and a title to eternal
infamy and disgrace! But, depending on thy friendly offices, I will say
no more of this.—Let her send me but one line!—But one line!—To treat
me as unworthy of her notice;—yet be altogether in my power—I cannot—I
will not bear that.
My Lord, as I said, is extremely ill. The doctors give him over. He
gives himself over. Those who would not have him die, are afraid he
will die. But as to myself, I am doubtful: for these long and violent
struggles between the constitution and the disease (though the latter
has three physicians and an apothecary to help it forward, and all
three, as to their prescriptions, of different opinions too) indicate a
plaguy habit, and savour more of recovery than death: and the more so,
as he has no sharp or acute mental organs to whet out his bodily ones,
and to raise his fever above the sympathetic helpful one.
Thou wilt see in the enclosed what pains I am at to dispatch
messengers; who are constantly on the road to meet each other, and one
of them to link in the chain with the fourth, whose station is in
London, and five miles onwards, or till met. But in truth I have some
other matters for them to perform at the same time, with my Lord’s
banker and his lawyer; which will enable me, if his Lordship is so good
as to die this bout, to be an over match for some of my other
relations. I don’t mean Charlotte and Patty; for they are noble girls:
but others, who have been scratching and clawing under-ground like so
many moles in my absence; and whose workings I have discovered since I
have been down, by the little heaps of dirt they have thrown up.
A speedy account of thy commission, dear Jack! The letter travels all
night.