They may have been very innocent; but will the world believe it?
You may have only intended to play with the heart of the poor artless Irish gentleman who adored and confided in you.

But who will believe the stories of your innocence, against the irrefragable testimony of your own handwriting?
Who will believe that you could write these letters in the mere wantonness of coquetry, and not under the influence of affection ?' 'Villain!' cried my Lady Lyndon, 'could you dare to construe out of those idle letters of mine any other meaning than that which they really bear ?' 'I will construe anything out of them,' said I; 'such is the passion which animates me towards you.

I have sworn it--you must and shall be mine! Did you ever know me promise to accomplish a thing and fail?
Which will you prefer to have from me--a love such as woman never knew from man before, or a hatred to which there exists no parallel ?' 'A woman of my rank, sir, can fear nothing from the hatred of an adventurer like yourself,' replied the lady, drawing up stately.
'Look at your Poynings--was HE of your rank?
You are the cause of that young man's wound, madam; and, but that the instrument of your savage cruelty relented, would have been the author of his murder--yes, of his murder; for, if a wife is faithless, does not she arm the husband who punishes the seducer! And I look upon you, Honoria Lyndon, as my wife.' 'Husband?
wife, sir!' cried the widow, quite astonished.
'Yes, wife! husband! I am not one of those poor souls with whom coquettes can play, and who may afterwards throw them aside.

You would forget what passed between us at Spa: Calista would forget Eugenio; but I will not let you forget me.

You thought to trifle with my heart, did you?
When once moved, Honoria, it is moved for ever.