. . has not the old lady told you that I love
you? . . . that I shall do handsomely by you?" "She has
indeed, sir," said I; "but I cannot love you, indeed I can
not! . . . pray let me alone . . . yes! I will love you
dearly if you will let me alone, and go away . . . " But I
was talking to the wind; for whether my tears, my attitude,
or the disorder of my dress prov'd fresh incentives, or
whether he was not under the dominion of desires he could
not bridle, but snorting and foaming with lust and rage, he
renews his attack, seizes me, and again attempts to extend
and fix me on the settee: in which he succeeded so far as to
lay me along, and even to toss my petticoats over my head,
and lay my thighs bare, which I obstinately kept close, nor
could he, though he attempted with his knee to force them
open, effect it so as to stand fair for being master of the
main avenue; he was unbuttoned, both waistcoat and breeches,
yet I only felt the weight of his body upon me, whilst I lay
struggling with indignation, and dying with terror; but he
stopped all of a sudden, and got off, panting, blowing, curs-
ing, and repeating "old and ugly!" for so I had very natur-
ally called him in the heat of my defence.
The brute had, it seems, as I afterwards understood,
brought on, by his eagerness and struggle, the ultimate
period of his hot fit of lust, which his power was too short
liv'd to carry him through the full execution of; of which
my thighs and linen received the effusion.
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