y fancy, sir."

"_Not hit your fancy_, madam! Give me leave to say" (and he reddened
with anger) "that my fortune, my descent, and my ardent affection for
you ought to avail with me. Perhaps, madam, you think me too airy a man.
You have doubts of my sincerity. You question my honour."

"That, sir, would be to injure myself," and making a low courtesy, I
withdrew in haste.

My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin another letter.

_V.--Miss Byron: In Continuation_

Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Hargrave again called, and renewed
his addresses, making vehement professions of love, and offering me
large settlements. To all of which I answered as before; and when he
insisted upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly told him that I had
not the opinion of his morals that I must have of those of the man to
whom I gave my hand in marriage.

"Of my _morals_, madam!" (and his colour went and came). "My _morals_,
madam!" He arose from his seat and walked about the room muttering. "You
have no opinion of my morals? By heaven, madam! But I will bear it
all--yet, 'No opinion of my morals!' I cannot bear that."

He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his head; and, snatching up
his hat, bowed to the ground, his face crimsoned over, and he withdrew.

Mr. Reeves attended him to the door. "Not like my morals!" said he. "I
have _enemies_, Mr. Reeves. Miss Byron treats politely everybody but me,
sir. Her scorn may be repaid--would to God I could say, with scorn, Mr.
Reeves! Adieu!"

And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the glasses with violence; and
rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swelling. And away it
drove.

A fine husband for your Harriet would this half madman make! Drawn in by
his professions of love, and by L8,000 a year, I might have married him;
and when too late found myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and madman
for the remainder of my life.

_VI.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq._

_Friday, February 17_. No one, at present, but yourself, must see the
contents of what I am going to write.

You must not be too much surprised. But how shall I tell you the news;
the dreadful news!

O, my cousin Selby! We know not what has become of our dearest Miss
Byron.

We were last night at the masked ball in the Hay-market.

Between two and three we all agreed to go home. The dear creature was
fatigued with the notice everybody took of her. Everybody admired her.

I waite