The just sense of what I have deserved the contents should be, leaves me no room to doubt what they are.  Nevertheless, I return it you enclosed, with the seal, as you will see, unbroken.

Relieve, I beseech you, dearest Madam, by the four requested words, or by Mr. Belford, the anxiety of

Your ever-affectionate and obliged
Lovelace.

Remember, there will not, there cannot be time for further writing, and for coming up by Thursday, your uncle’s birth-day.

LETTER XL

Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, ESQ. 
Monday, June 26.

Thou wilt see the situation I am in with Miss Harlowe by the enclosed copies of three letters; to two of which I am so much scorned as not to have one word given me in answer; and of the third (now sent by the messenger who brings thee this) I am afraid as little notice will be taken—­and if so, her day of grace is absolutely over.

One would imagine (so long used to constraint too as she has been) that she might have been satisfied with the triumph she had over us all on Friday night! a triumph that to this hour has sunk my pride and my vanity so much, that I almost hate the words, plot, contrivance, scheme; and shall mistrust myself in future for every one that rises to my inventive head.

But seest thou not that I am under a necessity to continue her at Sinclair’s and to prohibit all her correspondencies?

Now, Belford, as I really, in my present mood, think of nothing less than marrying her, if she let not Thursday slip, I would have thee attend her, in pursuance of the intimation I have given her in my letter of this date; and vow for me, swear for me, bind thy soul to her for my honour, and use what arguments thy friendly heart can suggest, in order to procure me an answer from her; which, as thou wilt see, she may give in four words only.  And then I purpose to leave Lord M. (dangerously ill as he is,) and meet her at her appointed church, in order to solemnize.  If she will but sign Cl.  H. to thy writing the four words, that shall do:  for I would not come up to be made a fool of in the face of all my family and friends.

If she should let the day go off, I shall be desperate.  I am entangled in my own devices, and cannot bear that she should detect me.

O that I had been honest!—­What a devil are all my plots come to!  What do they end in, but one grand plot upon myself, and a title to eternal infamy and disgrace!  But, depending on thy friendly offices, I will say no more of this.—­Let her send me but one line!—­But one line!—­To treat me as unworthy of her notice;—­yet be altogether in my power—­I cannot—­I will not bear that.