ning.

It was with a very ill grace that he complied, on that condition; and at
parting he kissed my hand with such a savageness, that a redness remains
upon it still.

Do you not think, my dear, that I have reason to be incensed at him, my
situation considered? Am I not under a necessity, as it were, of
quarrelling with him; at least every other time I see him? No prudery,
no coquetry, no tyranny in my heart, or in my behaviour to him, that I
know of. No affected procrastination. Aiming at nothing but decorum.
He as much concerned, and so he ought to think, as I, to have that
observed. Too much in his power: cast upon him by the cruelty of my
relations. No other protection to fly to but his. One plain path before
us; yet such embarrasses, such difficulties, such subjects for doubt, for
cavil, for uneasiness; as fast as one is obviated, another to be
introduced, and not by myself--know not how introduced--What pleasure can
I propose to myself in meeting such a wretch?

Perfect for me, my dearest Miss Howe, perfect for me, I beseech you, your
kind scheme with Mrs. Townsend; and I will then leave this man.

My temper, I believe, is changed. No wonder if it be. I question
whether ever it will be what it was. But I cannot make him half so
uneasy by the change, as I am myself. See you not how, from step to
step, he grows upon me?--I tremble to look back upon his encroachments.
And now to give me cause to apprehend more evil from him, than
indignation will permit me to express!--O my dear, perfect your scheme,
and let me fly from so strange a wretch!

Yet, to be first an eloper from my friends to him, as the world supposes;
and now to be so from him [to whom I know not!] how hard to one who ever
endeavoured to shun intricate paths! But he must certainly have views in
quarrelling with me thus, which he dare not own!--Yet what can they be?--
I am terrified but to think of what they may be!

Let me but get from him!--As to my reputation, if I leave him--that is
already too much wounded for me, now, to be careful about any thing, but
how to act so as that my own heart shall not reproach me. As to the
world's censure, I must be content to suffer that--an unhappy
composition, however.--What a wreck have my fortunes suffered, to be
obliged to throw overboard so many valuables, to preserve, indeed, the
only valuable!--A composition that once it would have half broken my
heart to think there would have been the leas