MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.
TUES. SEPT. 9 IN THE MORN. AT MR. SMITH'S.
When I read yours of this morning, I could not help pitying you for the
account you give of the dreadful anxiety and suspense you labour under.
I wish from my heart all were to end as you are so willing to hope: but
it will not be; and your suspense, if the worst part of your torment, as
you say it is, will soon be over; but, alas! in a way you wish not.
I attended the lady just now. She is extremely ill: yet is she aiming
at an answer to her Norton's letter, which she began yesterday in her own
chamber, and has written a good deal: but in a hand not like her own fine
one, as Mrs. Lovick tells me, but larger, and the lines crooked.
I have accepted of the offer of a room adjoining to the widow Lovick's,
till I see how matters go; but unknown to the lady; and I shall go home
every night, for a few hours. I would not lose a sentence that I could
gain from lips so instructive, nor the opportunity of receiving any
command from her, for an estate.
In this my new apartment I now write, and shall continue to write, as
occasions offer, that I may be the more circumstantial: but I depend upon
the return of my letters, or copies of them, on demand, that I may have
together all that relates to this affecting story; which I shall
re-peruse with melancholy pleasure to the end of my life.
I think I will send thee Brand's letter to Mr. John Harlowe, recanting
his base surmises. It is a matchless piece of pedantry; and may perhaps
a little divert thy deep chagrin: some time hence at least it may, if not
now.
What wretched creatures are there in the world! What strangely mixed
creatures!--So sensible and so silly at the same time! What a various,
what a foolish creature is man!--