n's words to her in his letter from Florence. See Vol.
IV. Letter XIX.

She then called upon her cousin Morden's name, as if he had warned her
against a man of free principles; and walked towards the window; her
handkerchief at her eyes. But, turning short towards me, with an air of
mingled scorn and majesty, [what, at the moment, would I have given never
to have injured her!] What amends hast thou to propose! What amends can
such a one as thou make to a person of spirit, or common sense, for the
evils thou hast so inhumanely made me suffer?

As soon, Madam--as soon--as--as soon as your uncle--or--not waiting----

Thou wouldest tell me, I suppose--I know what thou wouldest tell me--But
thinkest thou, that marriage will satisfy for a guilt like thine?
Destitute as thou hast made me both of friends and fortune, I too much
despise the wretch, who could rob himself of his wife's virtue, to endure
the thoughts of thee in the light thou seemest to hope I will accept thee
in!--

I hesitated an interruption; but my meaning died away upon my trembling
lips. I could only pronounce the word marriage--and thus she proceeded:

Let me, therefore, know whether I am to be controuled in the future
disposal of myself? Whether, in a country of liberty, as this, where the
sovereign of it must not be guilty of your wickedness, and where you
neither durst have attempted it, had I one friend or relation to look
upon me, I am to be kept here a prisoner, to sustain fresh injuries?
Whether, in a word, you intend to hinder me from going where my destiny
shall lead me?

After a pause--for I was still silent:

Can you not answer me this plain question?--I quit all claim, all
expectation, upon you--what right have you to detain me here?

I could not speak. What could I say to such a question?

O wretch! wringing her uplifted hands, had I not been robbed of my
senses, and that in the basest manner--you best know how--had I been able
to account for myself, and your proceedings, or to have known but how the
days passed--a whole week should not have gone over my head, as I find it
has done, before I had told you, what I now tell you--That the man who
has been the villain to me you have been, shall never make me his wife.--
I will write to my uncle, to lay aside his kind intentions in my favour--
all my prospects are shut in--I give myself up for a lost creature as to
this world--hinder me not from entering upon a life of severe peniten