and to be eaten and drunk quite up by a voracious lover.  Don’t I know the sex?—­Not so, indeed, as yet, my Clarissa:  but, however, with her my frequent egresses will make me look new to her, and create little busy scenes between us.  At the least, I may surely, without exception, salute her at parting, and at return; and will not those occasional freedoms (which civility will warrant) by degrees familiarize my charmer to them?

But here, Jack, what shall I do with my uncle and aunts, and all my loving cousins?  For I understand that they are more in haste to have me married than I am myself.

LETTER IV

Miss Clarissa Harlowe, to miss Howe
Friday, April 28.

Mr. Lovelace is returned already.  My brother’s projects were his pretence.  I could not but look upon this short absence as an evasion of his promise; especially as he had taken such precautions with the people below; and as he knew that I proposed to keep close within-doors.  I cannot bear to be dealt meanly with; and angrily insisted that he should directly set out for Berkshire, in order to engage his cousin, as he had promised.

O my dearest life, said he, why will you banish me from your presence?  I cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I should.  I have been hovering about town ever since I left you.  Edgware was the farthest place I went to, and there I was not able to stay two hours, for fear, at this crisis, any thing should happen.  Who can account for the workings of an apprehensive mind, when all that is dear and valuable to it is at stake?  You may spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your friends, till the solemnity has passed that shall entitle me to give weight to your application.  When they know we are married, your brother’s plots will be at an end; and your father and mother, and uncles, must be reconciled to you.  Why then should you hesitate a moment to confirm my happiness?  Why, once more, would you banish me from you?  Why will you not give the man who has brought you into difficulties, and who so honourably wishes to extricate you from them, the happiness of doing so?

He was silent.  My voice failed to second the inclination I had to say something not wholly discouraging to a point so warmly pressed.

I’ll tell you, my angel, resumed he, what I propose to do, if you approve of it.  I will instantly go out to view some of the handsome new squares or fine streets round them, and make a report to you of any suitable house I find to be let.  I will take such a one as you shall choose, and set up an equipage befitting our condition.  You shall direct the whole.  And on some early day, either before, or after we fix, [it must be at your own choice], be pleased to make me the happiest of men.  And then will every thing be in a desirable train.