And, O Jack, the rage of love, the rage of revenge is upon me! by turns they tear me! The progress already made—the women’s instigations—the power I shall have to try her to the utmost, and still to marry her, if she be not to be brought to cohabitation—let me perish, Belford, if she escape me now!
Will. is not yet come back. Near eleven.
Will. is this moment returned. No coach to be got, either for love or money.
Once more she urges—to Mrs. Leeson’s, let me go, Lovelace! Good Lovelace, let me go to Mrs. Leeson’s? What is Miss Montague’s illness to my terror?—-For the Almighty’s sake, Mr. Lovelace!—her hands clasped.
O my angel! What a wildness is this! Do you know, do you see, my dearest life, what appearances your causeless apprehensions have given you?—Do you know it is past eleven o’clock?
Twelve, one, two, three, four—any hour, I care not—If you mean me honourably, let me go out of this hated house!
Thou’lt observe, Belford, that though this was written afterwards, yet, (as in other places,) I write it as it was spoken and happened, as if I had retired to put down every sentence spoken. I know thou likest this lively present-tense manner, as it is one of my peculiars.
Just as she had repeated the last words, If you mean me honourably, let me go out of this hated house, in came Mrs. Sinclair, in a great ferment—And what, pray, Madam, has this house done to you? Mr. Lovelace, you have known me some time; and, if I have not the niceness of this lady, I hope I do not deserve to be treated thus!