’This I have to say, Madam, that I cannot bear to be kept at this distance from you under the same roof.

’Under the same roof, Sir!—­How came you——­

’Hear me out, Madam—­[letting go her trembling hands, and snatching them back again with an eagerness that made her start]—­I have a thousand things to say, to talk of, relating to our present and future prospects; but when I want to open my whole soul to you, you are always contriving to keep me at a distance.  You make me inconsistent with myself.  Your heart is set upon delays.  You must have views that you will not own.  Tell me, Madam, I conjure you to tell me, this moment, without subterfuge or reserve, in what light am I to appear to you in future?  I cannot bear this distance.  The suspense you hold me in I cannot bear.

’In what light, Mr. Lovelace! [visibly terrified.] In no bad light, I hope.—­Pray, Mr. Lovelace, do not grasp my hands so hard [endeavouring to withdraw them.] Pray let me go.—­

’You hate me, Madam—­

’I hate nobody, Sir—­

’You hate me, Madam, repeated I.

’Instigated and resolved, as I came up, I wanted some new provocation.  The devil indeed, as soon as my angel made her appearance, crept out of my heart; but he had left the door open, and was no farther off than my elbow.

’You come up in no good temper, I see, Mr. Lovelace.—­But pray be not violent—­I have done you no hurt.—­Pray be not violent—­

’Sweet creature! and I clasped one arm about her, holding one hand in my other.—­You have done me no hurt.—­I could have devoured her—­but restraining myself—­You have done me the greatest hurt!—­In what have I deserved the distance you keep me at?—­I knew not what to say.

’She struggled to disengage herself.—­Pray, Mr. Lovelace, let me withdraw.  I know not why this is.  I know not what I have done to offend you.  I see you are come with a design to quarrel with me.  If you would not terrify me by the ill humour you are in, permit me to withdraw.  I will hear all you have to say another time—­to-morrow morning, as I sent you word.—­But indeed you frighten me—­I beseech you, if you have any value for me, permit me to withdraw.

’Night, mid-night, is necessary, Belford.  Surprise, terror, must be necessary to the ultimate trial of this charming creature, say the women below what they will.  I could not hold my purposes.  This was not the first time that I had intended to try if she could forgive.

’I kissed her hand with a fervour, as if I would have left my lips upon it.—­Withdraw, then, dearest, and ever-dear creature.  Indeed I entered in a very ill humour.  I cannot bear the distance at which you so causelessly keep me.  Withdraw, Madam, since it is your will to withdraw; and judge me generously; judge me but as I deserve to be judged; and let me hope to meet you to-morrow morning early in such a temper as becomes our present situation, and my future hopes.