Wretch, that thou art!  Say not another word upon this subject.  When thou vowedst, when thou promisedst at Hampstead, I had begun to think that I must be thine.  If I had consented, at the request of those I thought thy relations, this would have been a principal inducement, that I could then have brought thee, what was most wanted, an unsullied honour in dowry, to a wretch destitute of all honour; and could have met the gratulations of a family to which thy life has been one continued disgrace, with a consciousness of deserving their gratulations.  But thinkest thou, that I will give a harlot niece to thy honourable uncle, and to thy real aunts; and a cousin to thy cousins from a brothel? for such, in my opinion, is this detested house!—­Then, lifting up her clasped hands, ‘Great and good God of Heaven,’ said she, ’give me patience to support myself under the weight of those afflictions, which thou, for wise and good ends, though at present impenetrable by me, hast permitted!’

Then, turning towards me, who knew neither what to say to her, nor for myself, I renounce thee for ever, Lovelace!—­Abhorred of my soul! for ever I renounce thee!—­Seek thy fortunes wheresoever thou wilt!—­only now, that thou hast already ruined me!—­

Ruined you, Madam—­the world need not—­I knew not what to say.

Ruined me in my own eyes; and that is the same to me as if all the world knew it—­hinder me not from going whither my mysterious destiny shall lead me.

Why hesitate you, Sir?  What right have you to stop me, as you lately did; and to bring me up by force, my hands and arms bruised by your violence?  What right have you to detain me here?

I am cut to the heart, Madam, with invectives so violent.  I am but too sensible of the wrong I have done you, or I could not bear your reproaches.  The man who perpetrates a villany, and resolves to go on with it, shows not the compunction I show.  Yet, if you think yourself in my power, I would caution you, Madam, not to make me desperate.  For you shall be mine, or my life shall be the forfeit!  Nor is life worth having without you!—­

Be thine!—­I be thine!—­said the passionate beauty.  O how lovely in her violence!

Yes, Madam, be mine!  I repeat you shall be mine!  My very crime is your glory.  My love, my admiration of you is increased by what has passed—­ and so it ought.  I am willing, Madam, to court your returning favour; but let me tell you, were the house beset by a thousand armed men, resolved to take you from me, they should not effect their purpose, while I had life.

I never, never will be your’s, said she, clasping her hands together, and lifting up her eyes!—­I never will be your’s!

We may yet see many happy years, Madam.  All your friends may be reconciled to you.  The treaty for that purpose is in greater forwardness than you imagine.  You know better than to think the worse of yourself for suffering what you could not help.  Enjoin but the terms I can make my peace with you upon, and I will instantly comply.