"That, sir, would be to injure myself," and making a low courtesy, I withdrew in haste.
My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin another letter.
V.--Miss Byron: In Continuation
Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Hargrave again called, and renewed his addresses, making vehement professions of love, and offering me large settlements. To all of which I answered as before; and when he insisted upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly told him that I had not the opinion of his morals that I must have of those of the man to whom I gave my hand in marriage.
"Of my morals, madam!" (and his colour went and came). "My morals, madam!" He arose from his seat and walked about the room muttering. "You have no opinion of my morals? By heaven, madam! But I will bear it all--yet, 'No opinion of my morals!' I cannot bear that."
He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his head; and, snatching up his hat, bowed to the ground, his face crimsoned over, and he withdrew.
Mr. Reeves attended him to the door. "Not like my morals!" said he. "I have enemies, Mr. Reeves. Miss Byron treats politely everybody but me, sir. Her scorn may be repaid--would to God I could say, with scorn, Mr. Reeves! Adieu!"
And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the glasses with violence; and rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swelling. And away it drove.
A fine husband for your Harriet would this half madman make! Drawn in by his professions of love, and by £8,000 a year, I might have married him; and when too late found myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and madman for the remainder of my life.