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LETTER XLIII.
Mr. Lovelace, To John Bedford, Esq;
Tuesday, Aug. 15.
Thank thee, Jack; most heartily I thank thee, for the sober conclusion of thy last!---I have a good mind, for the sake of it, to forgive thy till-now absolutely unpardonable Extracts.
But dost think I will lose such an angel, such a forgiving angel, as this?---By my Soul, I will not!---To pray for mercy for such an ungrateful miscreant!---How she wounds me, how she cuts me to the Soul, by her exalted generosity!---But She must have mercy upon me first!---Then will she teach me a reliance for the sake of which her prayer for me will be answered.
But hasten, hasten to me, particulars of her health, of her employments, of her conversation.
I am sick only of Love!---O that I could have called her mine!---It would then have been worth while to be sick!---To have sent for her down to me from town; and to have had her, with healing in her dove-like wings, flying to my comfort; her duty and her choice to pray for me, and to bid me live for her sake!---O Jack! what an Angel have I---
But I have not lost her!---I will not lose her! I am almost well; should be quite well but for these prescribing rascals, who, to do credit to their skill, will make the disease of importance.---And I will make her mine!---And be sick again, to entitle myself to her dutiful tenderness, and pious as well as personal concern!
God for ever bless her!---Hasten, hasten particulars of her!---I am sick of Love!---Such generous goodness!---By all that's Great and Good, I will not lose her!---So tell her!---She says, That she could not pity me, if she thought of being mine! This,
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according to Miss Howe's transcriptions to Charlotte.---But bid her hate me, and have me: And my behaviour to her shall soon turn that Hate to Love!---For, body and mind, I will be wholly hers.