ead of
so patient a man, with such a blessing in his reach. But wretches of his
cast, between you and me, my dear, have not, I fancy, the ardors that
honest men have. Who knows, as your Bell once spitefully said, but he
may have half a dozen creatures to quit his hands of before he engages
for life?--Yet I believe you must not expect him to be honest on this
side of his grand climacteric.

He, to suggest delay from a compliment to be made to Lord M. and to give
time for settlements! He, a part of whose character it is, not to know
what complaisance to his relations is--I have no patience with him! You
did indeed want an interposing friend on the affecting occasion which you
mention in yours of yesterday morning. But, upon my word, were I to have
been that moment in your situation, and been so treated, I would have
torn his eyes out, and left it to his own heart, when I had done, to
furnish the reason for it.

Would to Heaven to-morrow, without complimenting any body, might be his
happy day!--Villain! After he had himself suggested the compliment!--And
I think he accuses YOU of delaying!--Fellow, that he is!--How my heart is
wrung--

But as matters now stand betwixt you, I am very unseasonable in
expressing my resentments against him.--Yet I don't know whether I am or
not, neither; since it is the most cruel of fates, for a woman to be
forced to have a man whom her heart despises. You must, at least,
despise him; at times, however. His clenched fist offered to his
forehead on your leaving him in just displeasure--I wish it had been a
pole-axe, and in the hand of his worst enemy.

I will endeavour to think of some method, of some scheme, to get you from
him, and to fix you safely somewhere till your cousin Morden arrives--A
scheme to lie by you, and to be pursued as occasion may be given. You
are sure, that you can go abroad when you please? and that our
correspondence is safe? I cannot, however (for the reasons heretofore
mentioned respecting your own reputation,) wish you to leave him while he
gives you not cause to suspect his honour. But your heart I know would be
the easier, if you were sure of some asylum in case of necessity.

Yet once more, I say, I can have no notion that he can or dare mean your
dishonour. But then the man is a fool, my dear--that's all.

However, since you are thrown upon a fool, marry the fool at the first
opportunity; and though I doubt that this man will be the most
ungove