'--She thought I
was mad, she says in her papers. Indeed I was little less. She says,
I took her arm, and griped it black and blue, to bring her back again;
and then sat down and looked at her as silly as such a poor girl as
she!--Well did she describe the passion I struggled with; and no one
can conceive how much my pride made me despise myself at times for the
little actions my love for her put me upon, and yet to find that love
increasing every day, as her charms and her resistance increased.--I
have caught myself in a raging fit, sometimes vowing I would have her,
and, at others, jealous that, to secure herself from my attempts, she
would throw herself into the arms of some menial or inferior, whom
otherwise she would not have thought of.
"Sometimes I soothed, sometimes threatened her; but never was
such courage, when her virtue seemed in danger, mixed with so
much humility, when her fears gave way to her hopes of a juster
treatment.--Then I would think it impossible (so slight an opinion had
I of woman's virtue) that such a girl as this, cottage-born, who
owed every thing to my family, and had an absolute dependence upon my
pleasure: myself not despicable in person or mind, as I supposed;
she unprejudiced in any man's favour, at an age susceptible of
impressions, and a frame and constitution not ice or snow: 'Surely,'
thought I, 'all this frost must be owing to the want of fire in my
attempts to thaw it: I used to dare more, and succeed better.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215