'Again: property is left for which he may be induced to contend; and which, should he do so, will probably be dissipated in law. If not, it may with no less probability be decided by law to be mine. He affirms that to contend at law is immoral.
'Do you and he listen to what I have now to say.
'I am desirous of totally changing my conduct. I have a heart more capable of affection than you, Lydia, have reason to suppose; and I love you. My ambition at present is to do you much more good than I have ever done you harm. I am once more at my own disposal; and, unless that ardent love which you formerly bore me be entirely changed, which I do not believe it is, I am now sincerely desirous to make you my wife.
'But I will not deceive you. I can only be such a husband as you desire on condition of being left in quiet possession of that which I believe to be my own. I have ruined my character. Offices of emolument are not easily obtained; but, if they were, I am not a man to be trusted. I will not live a beggar; deprived of all the blessings in which the fools around me wallow, till they turn them into curses. I wish to live happily: unmolesting, and unmolested: but, if I must either prey or be preyed upon, I am still resolved rather to act the fox than the goose.
'I know you will condemn this determination; but I am speaking openly; and telling you what my intentions are, without entering into their defence.
'Supposing Mr. Trevor to be convinced that the law will decide the property contested in his favour, the sacrifice demanded of him is perhaps too great to be expected from any man. Yet, from what I have heard and what I know, this is the sacrifice that I do expect. I expect it from his abhorrence of pretending to seek justice by the aid of law. I expect it from that principle which decides in favour of the greatest good. And I expect it from the earnest desire I have heard him express that you might be restored to that happiness which, for a time, you have lost.
'Should he or you conclude that the motives I now urge originate in that artifice of which I have been very justly accused, I ought perhaps to feel no surprise, and shall certainly make no complaint. But, believe me or believe me not, I have spoken with a sincerity of heart for which I am likely to gain but little credit. Such I feel, at this moment, are the misfortunes to which cunning subjects itself. I am a man but little subject to fear: yet, I own, the fear of being thought still to possess nothing better than this cunning assaults me, obliges me to omit the tender epithets that are in my thoughts, and without addition to sign myself
F. WAKEFIELD.'
While I read, the eyes of Miss Wilmot were fixed upon my countenance. Whenever I looked toward her, I could perceive the strong emotions, of hope and fear, by which she was agitated.
When I had ended, I said—'Mr. Wakefield is indeed an extraordinary man! Be his intentions honest or base, the strength and clearness of his mind and his knowledge of the human heart, when we recollect how these faculties have been employed, are truly astonishing. If this be a plan of artifice, it is little less than miraculous. Yet who can believe it to be any thing else?'