This moment call me hither thy cousin Paul Wheatly, just come from sea,
whom thou wert recommending to my service, if I were to marry, and keep
a pleasure-boat.
Presto--Will's gone--Paul will be here presently. Presently to Mrs.
Howe's. If Paul be Singleton's mate, coming from his captain, it will do
as well as if it were Singleton himself.
Sally, a little devil, often reproaches me with the slowness of my
proceedings. But in a play does not the principal entertainment lie in
the first four acts? Is not all in a manner over when you come to the
fifth? And what a vulture of a man must he be, who souses upon his prey,
and in the same moment trusses and devours?
But to own the truth. I have overplotted myself. To my make my work
secure, as I thought, I have frighted the dear creature with the sight of
my four Hottentots, and I shall be a long time, I doubt, before I can
recover my lost ground. And then this cursed family at Harlowe-place
have made her out of humour with me, with herself, and with all the
world, but Miss Howe, who, no doubt, is continually adding difficulties
to my other difficulties.
I am very unwilling to have recourse to measures which these demons below
are continually urging me to take; because I am sure, that, at last, I
shall be brought to make her legally mine.
One complete trial over, and I think I will do her noble justice.
***
Well, Paul's gone--gone already--has all his lessons. A notable fellow!
--Lord W.'s necessary-man was Paul before he went to sea. A more
sensible rogue Paul than Joseph! Not such a pretender to piety neither
as the other. At what a price have I bought that Joseph! I believe I
must punish the rascal at last: but must let him marry first: then
(though that may be punishment enough) I shall punish two at once in the
man and his wife. And how richly does Betty deserve punishment for her
behaviour to my goddess!
But now I hear the rusty hinges of my beloved's door give me creaking
invitation. My heart creaks and throbs with respondent trepidations:
Whimsical enough though! for what relation has a lover's heart to a rusty
pair of hinges? But they are the hinges that open and shut the door of
my beloved's bed-chamber. Relation enough in that.
I hear not the door shut again. I shall receive her commands I hope
anon. What signifies her keeping me thus at a distance? she must be
mine, let me do or offer what I will. Courage whenever I assume, all is
over: for, should she think of escaping from hence, whither can she fly
to avoid me? Her parents will not receive her. Her uncles will not
entertain her. Her beloved Norton is in their direction, and cannot.
Miss Howe dare not. She has not one friend in town but me--is entirely a
stranger to the town. And what then is the matter with me, that I should
be thus unaccountably over-awed and tyrannized over by a dear creature
who wants only to know how impossible it is that she should escape me, in
order to be as humble to me as she is to her persecuting relations!
Should I ever make the grand attempt, and fail, and should she hate me
for it, her hatred can be but temporary. She has already incurred the
censure of the world. She must therefore choose to be mine, for the sake
of soldering up her reputation in the eye of that impudent world. For,
who that knows me, and knows that she has been in my power, though but
for twenty-four hours, will think her spotless as to fact, let her
inclination be what it will? And then human nature is such a well-known
rogue, that every man and woman judges by what each knows of him or
herself, that inclination is no more to be trusted, where an opportunity
is given, than I am; especially where a woman, young and blooming, loves
a man well enough to go off with him; for such will be the world's
construction in the present case.
She calls her maid Dorcas. No doubt, that I may hear her harmonious
voice, and to give me an opportunity to pour out my soul at her feet; to
renew all my vows; and to receive her pardon for the past offence: and
then, with what pleasure shall I begin upon a new score, and afterwards
wipe out that; and begin another, and another, till the last offence
passes; and there can be no other! And once, after that, to be forgiven,
will be to be forgiven for ever.
***
The door is again shut. Dorcas tells me, that her lady denies to admit me
to dine with her; a favour I had ordered the wench to beseech her to
grant me, the next time she saw her--not uncivilly, however, denies--
coming-to by degrees! Nothing but the last offence, the honest wench
tells me, in the language of her principals below, will do with her. The
last offence is meditating. Yet this vile recreant heart of mine plays
me booty.
But here I conclude; though the tyranness leaves me nothing to do but to
read, write, and fret.
Subscription is formal between us. Besides, I am so much her's, that I
cannot say how much I am thine or any other person's.