LETTER XXIII

Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, ESQ.

But with all this dear creature’s resentment against me, I cannot, for my heart, think but she will get all over, and consent to enter the pale with me.  Were she even to die to-morrow, and to know she should, would not a woman of her sense, of her punctilio, and in her situation, and of so proud a family, rather die married, than otherwise?—­No doubt but she would; although she were to hate the man ever so heartily.  If so, there is now but one man in the world whom she can have—­and that is me.

Now I talk [familiar writing is but talking, Jack] thus glibly of entering the pale, thou wilt be ready to question me, I know, as to my intentions on this head.

As much of my heart, as I know of it myself, will I tell thee.—­When I am from her, I cannot still help hesitating about marriage; and I even frequently resolve against it, and determine to press my favourite scheme for cohabitation.  But when I am with her, I am ready to say, to swear, and to do, whatever I think will be the most acceptable to her, and were a parson at hand, I should plunge at once, no doubt of it, into the state.

I have frequently thought, in common cases, that it is happy for many giddy fellows [there are giddy fellows, as well as giddy girls, Jack; and perhaps those are as often drawn in, as these] that ceremony and parade are necessary to the irrevocable solemnity; and that there is generally time for a man to recollect himself in the space between the heated over-night, and the cooler next morning; or I know not who could escape the sweet gypsies, whose fascinating powers are so much aided by our own raised imaginations.

A wife at any time, I used to say.  I had ever confidence and vanity enough to think that no woman breathing could deny her hand when I held out mine.  I am confoundedly mortified to find that this lady is able to hold me at bay, and to refuse all my honest vows.

What force [allow me a serious reflection, Jack:  it will be put down!  What force] have evil habits upon the human mind!  When we enter upon a devious course, we think we shall have it in our power when we will return to the right path.  But it is not so, I plainly see:  For, who can acknowledge with more justice this dear creature’s merits, and his own errors, than I?  Whose regret, at times, can be deeper than mine, for the injuries I have done her?  Whose resolutions to repair those injuries stronger?—­Yet how transitory is my penitence!—­How am I hurried away—­ Canst thou tell by what?—­O devil of youth, and devil of intrigue, how do you mislead me!—­How often do we end in occasions for the deepest remorse, what we begin in wantonness!—­

At the present writing, however, the turn of the scale is in behalf of matrimony—­for I despair of carrying with her my favourite point.