<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"></SPAN></p>
<br/>
<h2> LETTER XXII </h2>
<p>MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, JULY 19.</p>
<p>This morning I took a chair to Smith's; and, being told that the lady had
a very bad night, but was up, I sent for her worthy apothecary; who, on
his coming to me, approving of my proposal of calling in Dr. H., I bid the
woman acquaint her with the designed visit.</p>
<p>It seems she was at first displeased; yet withdrew her objection: but,
after a pause, asked them, What she should do? She had effects of value,
some of which she intended, as soon as she could, to turn into money, but,
till then, had not a single guinea to give the doctor for his fee.</p>
<p>Mrs. Lovick said, she had five guineas by her; they were at her service.</p>
<p>She would accept of three, she said, if she would take that (pulling a
diamond ring from her finger) till she repaid her; but on no other terms.</p>
<p>Having been told I was below with Mr. Goddard, she desired to speak one
word with me, before she saw the Doctor.</p>
<p>She was sitting in an elbow-chair, leaning her head on a pillow; Mrs.
Smith and the widow on each side her chair; her nurse, with a phial of
hartshorn, behind her; in her own hand her salts.</p>
<p>Raising her head at my entrance, she inquired if the Doctor knew Mr.
Lovelace.</p>
<p>I told her no; and that I believed you never saw him in your life.</p>
<p>Was the Doctor my friend?</p>
<p>He was; and a very worthy and skilful man. I named him for his eminence in
his profession: and Mr. Goddard said he knew not a better physician.</p>
<p>I have but one condition to make before I see the gentleman; that he
refuse not his fees from me. If I am poor, Sir, I am proud. I will not be
under obligation, you may believe, Sir, I will not. I suffer this visit,
because I would not appear ungrateful to the few friends I have left, nor
obstinate to such of my relations, as may some time hence, for their
private satisfaction, inquire after my behaviour in my sick hours. So,
Sir, you know the condition. And don't let me be vexed. 'I am very ill!
and cannot debate the matter.'</p>
<p>Seeing her so determined, I told her, if it must be so, it should.</p>
<p>Then, Sir, the gentleman may come. But I shall not be able to answer many
questions. Nurse, you can tell him at the window there what a night I have
had, and how I have been for two days past. And Mr. Goddard, if he be
here, can let him know what I have taken. Pray let me be as little
questioned as possible.</p>
<p>The Doctor paid his respects to her with the gentlemanly address for which
he is noted: and she cast up her sweet eyes to him with that benignity
which accompanies her every graceful look.</p>
<p>I would have retired: but she forbid it.</p>
<p>He took her hand, the lily not of so beautiful a white: Indeed, Madam, you
are very low, said he: but give me leave to say, that you can do more for
yourself than all the faculty can do for you.</p>
<p>He then withdrew to the window. And, after a short conference with the
women, he turned to me, and to Mr. Goddard, at the other window: We can do
nothing here, (speaking low,) but by cordials and nourishment. What
friends has the lady? She seems to be a person of condition; and, ill as
she is, a very fine woman.——A single lady, I presume?</p>
<p>I whisperingly told him she was. That there were extraordinary
circumstances in her case; as I would have apprized him, had I met with
him yesterday: that her friends were very cruel to her; but that she could
not hear them named without reproaching herself; though they were much
more to blame than she.</p>
<p>I knew I was right, said the Doctor. A love-case, Mr. Goddard! a
love-case, Mr. Belford! there is one person in the world who can do her
more service than all the faculty.</p>
<p>Mr. Goddard said he had apprehended her disorder was in her mind; and had
treated her accordingly: and then told the Doctor what he had done: which
he approving of, again taking her charming hand, said, My good young lady,
you will require very little of our assistance. You must, in a great
measure, be your own assistance. You must, in a great measure, be your own
doctress. Come, dear Madam, [forgive me the familiar tenderness; your
aspect commands love as well as reverence; and a father of children, some
of them older than yourself, may be excused for his familiar address,]
cheer up your spirits. Resolve to do all in your power to be well; and
you'll soon grow better.</p>
<p>You are very kind, Sir, said she. I will take whatever you direct. My
spirits have been hurried. I shall be better, I believe, before I am
worse. The care of my good friends here, looking at the women, shall not
meet with an ungrateful return.</p>
<p>The Doctor wrote. He would fain have declined his fee. As her malady, he
said, was rather to be relieved by the soothings of a friend, than by the
prescriptions of a physician, he should think himself greatly honoured to
be admitted rather to advise her in the one character, than to prescribe
to her in the other.</p>
<p>She answered, That she should be always glad to see so humane a man: that
his visits would keep her in charity with his sex: but that, where [sic]
she able to forget that he was her physician, she might be apt to abate of
the confidence in his skill, which might be necessary to effect the
amendment that was the end of his visits.</p>
<p>And when he urged her still further, which he did in a very polite manner,
and as passing by the door two or three times a day, she said she should
always have pleasure in considering him in the kind light he offered
himself to her: that that might be very generous in one person to offer,
which would be as ungenerous in another to accept: that indeed she was not
at present high in circumstance; and he saw by the tender, (which he must
accept of,) that she had greater respect to her own convenience than to
his merit, or than to the pleasure she should take in his visits.</p>
<p>We all withdrew together; and the Doctor and Mr. Goddard having a great
curiosity to know something more of her story, at the motion of the latter
we went into a neighbouring coffee-house, and I gave them, in confidence,
a brief relation of it; making all as light for you as I could; and yet
you'll suppose, that, in order to do but common justice to the lady's
character, heavy must be that light.</p>
<p>THREE O'CLOCK, AFTERNOON.</p>
<p>I just now called again at Smith's; and am told she is somewhat better;
which she attributed to the soothings of her Doctor. She expressed herself
highly pleased with both gentlemen; and said that their behaviour to her
was perfectly paternal.——</p>
<p>Paternal, poor lady!——never having been, till very lately,
from under her parents' wings, and now abandoned by all her friends, she
is for finding out something paternal and maternal in every one, (the
latter qualities in Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith,) to supply to herself the
father and mother her dutiful heart pants after.</p>
<p>Mrs. Smith told me, that, after we were gone, she gave the keys of her
trunk and drawers to her and the widow Lovick, and desired them to take an
inventory of them; which they did in her presence.</p>
<p>They also informed me, that she had requested them to find her a purchaser
for two rich dressed suits; one never worn, the other not above once or
twice.</p>
<p>This shocked me exceedingly—perhaps it may thee a little!!!—Her
reason for so doing, she told them, was, that she should never live to
wear them: that her sister, and other relations, were above wearing them:
that her mother would not endure in her sight any thing that was her's:
that she wanted the money: that she would not be obliged to any body, when
she had effects by her for which she had no occasion: and yet, said she, I
expect not that they will fetch a price answerable to their value.</p>
<p>They were both very much concerned, as they owned; and asked my advice
upon it: and the richness of her apparel having given them a still higher
notion of her rank than they had before, they supposed she must be of
quality; and again wanted to know her story.</p>
<p>I told them, that she was indeed a woman of family and fortune: I still
gave them room to suppose her married: but left it to her to tell them all
in her own time and manner: all I would say was, that she had been very
vilely treated; deserved it not; and was all innocence and purity.</p>
<p>You may suppose that they both expressed their astonishment, that there
could be a man in the world who could ill treat so fine a creature.</p>
<p>As to the disposing of the two suits of apparel, I told Mrs. Smith that
she should pretend that, upon inquiry, she had found a friend who would
purchase the richest of them; but (that she might not mistrust) would
stand upon a good bargain. And having twenty guineas about me, I left them
with her, in part of payment; and bid her pretend to get her to part with
it for as little more as she could induce her to take.</p>
<p>I am setting out for Edgeware with poor Belton—more of whom in my
next. I shall return to-morrow; and leave this in readiness for your
messenger, if he call in my absence.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />