But my life is in my own power, though my person is not—I will not be thus constrained.
You shall not, Madam, quitting her hand, bowing; but my heart is at my mouth, and hoping farther provocation.
She arose, and was hurrying away.
I pursue you not, Madam—I will try your generosity. Stop—return—this moment stop, return, if, Madam, you would not make me desperate.
She stopt at the door; burst into tears—O Lovelace!—How, how, have I deserved——
Be pleased, dearest angel, to return.
She came back—but with declared reluctance; and imputing her compliance to terror.
Terror, Jack, as I have heretofore found out, though I have so little benefited by the discovery, must be my resort, if she make it necessary—nothing else will do with the inflexible charmer.
She seated herself over-against me; extremely discomposed—but indignation had a visible predominance in her features.
I was going towards her, with a countenance intendedly changed to love and softness: Sweetest, dearest angel, were my words, in the tenderest accent:—But, rising up, she insisted upon my being seated at a distance from her.