where he had lodgings was
new-fronting, and not in condition to receive him: but he could go to
his friend Belford's, in Soho; or perhaps he might reach to the same
gentleman's house at Edgware, over night, and return on the mornings,
till he had reason to think this wild project of my brother's laid
aside. But to no greater distance till then should he care to venture.

The result of all was, to set out on Monday next for town. I hope it
will be in a happy hour.

CL. HARLOWE.

LETTER XLVI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, APRIL 21.

[As it was not probable that the Lady could give so particular an
account of her own confusion, in the affecting scene she mentions on Mr.
Lovelace's offering himself to her acceptance, the following extracts
are made from his letter of the above date.]

And now, Belford, what wilt thou say, if, like the fly buzzing about the
bright taper, I had like to have singed the silken wings of my liberty?
Never was man in greater danger of being caught in his own snares: all
my views anticipated; all my schemes untried; the admirable creature no
brought to town; nor one effort made to know if she be really angel or
woman.

I offered myself to her acceptance, with a suddenness, 'tis true, that
gave her no time to wrap herself in reserves; and in terms less tender
than fervent, tending to upbraid her for her past indifference, and to
remind her of her injunctions: for it was the fear of her brother,
not her love of me, that had inclined her to dispense with those
injunctions.

I never beheld so sweet a confusion. What a glory to the pencil,
could it do justice to it, and to the mingled impatience which visibly
informed every feature of the most meaning and most beautiful face
in the world! She hemmed twice or thrice: her look, now so charmingly
silly, then so sweetly significant; till at last the lovely teaser,
teased by my hesitating expectation of her answer, out of all power
of articulate speech, burst into tears, and was turning from me with
precipitation, when, presuming to fold her in my happy arms--O think
not, best beloved of my heart, said I, think not, that this motion,
which you may believe to be so contrary to your former injunctions,
proceeds from a design to avail myself of the cruelty of your relations:
if I have disobliged you by it, (and you know with what respectful
tenderness I have presumed to hint it,) it shall be my utmost care for
the future--There