* See Vol.I. Letter IV.
I tremble for you but upon supposing what may be the consequence of a conflict upon this occasion. Lovelace owes some of them vengeance. This gives me a double concern, that my mother should refuse her consent to the protection I had set my heart upon procuring for you.
My mother will not breakfast without me. A quarrel has its conveniencies sometimes. Yet too much love, I think, is as bad as too little.
We have just now had another pull. Upon my word, she is excessively—what shall I say?—unpersuadable—I must let her off with that soft word.
Who was the old Greek, that said, he governed Athens; his wife, him; and his son, her?
It was not my mother's fault [I am writing to you, you know] that she did not govern my father. But I am but a daughter!—Yet I thought I was not quite so powerless when I was set upon carrying a point, as I find myself to be.
Adieu, my dear!—Happier times must come—and that quickly too.—The strings cannot long continue to be thus overstrained. They must break or be relaxed. In either way, the certainty must be preferable to the suspense.
One word more:
I think in my conscience you must take one of these two alternatives; either to consent to let us go to London together privately; [in which case, I will procure a vehicle, and meet you at your appointment at the stile to which Lovelace proposes to bring his uncle's chariot;] or, to put yourself into the protection of Lord M. and the ladies of his family.