MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
KENSINGTON, WEDNESDAY NOON.
Like Æsop's traveller, thou blowest hot and cold, life and death, in the
same breath, with a view, no doubt, to distract me. How familiarly dost
thou use the words, dying, dimness, tremor? Never did any mortal ring so
many changes on so few bells. Thy true father, I dare swear, was a
butcher, or an undertaker, by the delight thou seemest to take in scenes
of death and horror. Thy barbarous reflection, that thou losest her not
by thy own fault, is never to be forgiven. Thou hast but one way to
atone for the torments thou hast given me, and that is, by sending me
word that she is better, and will recover. Whether it be true or not,
let me be told so, and I will go abroad rejoicing and believing it, and
my wishes and imaginations shall make out all the rest.
If she live but one year, that I may acquit myself to myself (no matter
for the world!) that her death is not owing to me, I will compound for
the rest.
Will neither vows nor prayers save her? I never prayed in my life, put
all the years of it together, as I have done for this fortnight past: and
I have most sincerely repented of all my baseness to her--And will
nothing do?
But after all, if she recovers not, this reflection must be my comfort;
and it is truth; that her departure will be owing rather to wilfulness,
to downright female wilfulness, than to any other cause.
It is difficult for people, who pursue the dictates of a violent
resentment, to stop where first they designed to stop.
I have the charity to believe, that even James and Arabella Harlowe, at
first, intended no more by the confederacy they formed against this their
angel sister, than to disgrace and keep her down, lest (sordid wretches!)
their uncles should follow the example their grandfather had set, to
their detriment.
So this lady, as I suppose, intended only at first to vex and plague me;
and, finding she could do it to purpose, her desire of revenge insensibly
became stronger in her than the desire of life; and now she is willing to
die, as an event which she thinks will cut my heart-strings asunder. And
still, the more to be revenged, puts on the Christian, and forgives me.
But I'll have none of her forgiveness! My own heart tells me I do not
deserve it; and I cannot bear it!--And what is it but a mere verbal
forgiveness, as ostentatiously as cruelly given with a view to magnify
herself, and wound me deeper! A little, dear, specious--but let me stop
--lest I blaspheme!
***
Reading over the above, I am ashamed of my ramblings; but what wouldest
have me do?--Seest thou not that I am but seeking to run out of myself,
in hope to lose myself; yet, that I am unable to do either?
If ever thou lovedst but half so fervently as I love--but of that thy
heavy soul is not capable.
Send me word by the next, I conjure thee, in the names of all her kindred
saints and angels, that she is living, and likely to live!--If thou
sendest ill news, thou wilt be answerable for the consequences, whether
it be fatal to the messenger, or to
Thy
LOVELACE.