I expostulated with her upon it, in the most submissive and earnest manner.  She made it necessary for me to repeat many of the pleas I had before urged.  The Captain seconded me with equal earnestness.  At last, each fell down on our knees before her.

She was distressed.  I was afraid at one time she would have fainted.  Yet neither of us would rise without some concessions.  I pleaded my own sake; the Captain, his dear friend, her uncle’s; and both re-pleaded the prevention of future mischief; and the peace and happiness of the two families.

She owned herself unequal to the conflict.  She sighed.  She sobbed.  She wept.  She wrung her hands.

I was perfectly eloquent in my vows and protetations.  Her tearful eyes were cast down upon me; a glow upon each charming cheek; a visible anguish in every lovely feature—­at last, her trembling knees seemed to fail her, she dropt into the next chair; her charming face, as if seeking for a hiding place (which a mother’s bosom would have best supplied) sinking upon her own shoulder.

I forgot at the instant all my vows of revenge.  I threw myself at her feet, as she sat; and, snatching her hand, pressed it with my lips.  I besought Heaven to forgive my past offences, and prosper my future hopes, as I designed honourably and justly by the charmer of my heart, if once more she should restore me to her favour.  And I thought I felt drops of scalding water [could they be tears?] trickle down upon my cheeks; while my cheeks, glowing like fire, seemed to scorch up the unwelcome strangers.

I then arose, not doubting of an implied pardon in this silent distress.  I raised the Captain.  I whispered him—­by my soul, man, I am in earnest.  —­Now talk of reconciliation, of her uncle, of the license, of settlement —­and raising my voice, If now at last, Captain Tomlinson, my angel will give me leave to call so great a blessing mine, it will be impossible that you should say too much to her uncle in praise of my gratitude, my affection, and fidelity to his charming niece; and he may begin as soon as he pleases his kind schemes for effecting the desirable reconciliation!—­Nor shall he prescribe any terms to me that I will not comply with.

The Captain blessed me with his eyes and hands—­Thank God! whispered he.  We approached the lady together.

Capt.  What hinders, dearest Madam, what now hinders, but that Lady Betty Lawrance, when she comes, may be acquainted with the truth of every thing?  And that then she may assist privately at your nuptials?  I will stay till they are celebrated; and then shall go down with the happy tidings to my dear Mr. Harlowe.  And all will, all must, soon be happy.

I must have an answer from Miss Howe, replied the still trembling fair-one.  I cannot change my new measures but with her advice.  I will forfeit all my hopes of happiness in this world, rather than forfeit her good opinion, and that she should think me giddy, unsteady, or precipitate.  All I shall further say on the present subject is this, that when I have her answer to what I have written, I will write to her the whole state of the matter, as I shall then be enabled to do.