Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2

by Samuel Richardson

  LETTER XVII

  MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 27.

  I have deposited my narrative down to this day noon; but I hope soon tofollow it with another letter, that I may keep you as little a while aspossible in that suspense which I am so much affected by at this moment:for my heart is disturbed at ever foot I hear stir; and at every doorbelow that I hear open or shut.

  They have been all assembled some time, and are in close debate Ibelieve: But can there be room for long debate upon a proposal, which,if accepted, will so effectually answer all their views?--Can theyinsist a moment longer upon my having Mr. Solmes, when they see whatsacrifices I am ready to make, to be freed from his addresses?--Oh! butI suppose the struggle is, first, with Bella's nicety, to persuade herto accept of the estate, and of the husband; and next, with her pride,to take her sister's refusals, as she once phrased it!--Or, it maybe, my brother is insisting upon equivalents for his reversion in theestate: and these sort of things take up but too much the attention ofsome of our family. To these, no doubt, one or both, it must be owing,that my proposal admits of so much consideration.

  I want, methinks, to see what Mr. Lovelace, in his letter, says. But Iwill deny myself this piece of curiosity till that which is raised by mypresent suspense is answered.--Excuse me, my dear, that I thus troubleyou with my uncertainties: but I have no employment, nor heart, if Ihad, to pursue any other but what my pen affords me.

  MONDAY EVENING.

  Would you believe it?--Betty, by anticipation, tells me, that I am to berefused. I am 'a vile, artful creature. Every body is too good to me.My uncle Harlowe has been taken in, that's the phrase. They know howit would be, if he either wrote to me, or saw me. He has, however, beenmade ashamed to be so wrought upon. A pretty thing truly in the eye ofthe world it would be, were they to take me at my word! It would lookas if they had treated me thus hardly, as I think it, for this verypurpose. My peculiars, particularly Miss Howe, would give it thatturn; and I myself could mean nothing by it, but to see if it would beaccepted in order to strengthen my own arguments against Mr. Solmes. Itwas amazing, that it could admit of a moment's deliberation: that anything could be supposed to be done in it. It was equally against law andequity: and a fine security Miss Bella would have, or Mr. Solmes, when Icould resume it when I would!--My brother and she my heirs! O the artfulcreature!--I to resolve to live single, when Lovelace is so sure ofme--and every where declares as much!--and can whenever he pleases,if my husband, claim under the will!--Then the insolence--theconfidence--[as Betty mincingly told me, that one said; you may easilyguess who] that she, who was so justly in disgrace for downrightrebellion, should pretend to prescribe to the whole family!--Should namea husband for her elder sister!--What a triumph would her obstinacy goaway with, to delegate her commands, not as from a prison, as she calledit, but as from her throne, to her elders and betters; and to her fatherand mother too!--Amazing, perfectly amazing, that any body could argueupon such a proposal as this! It was a master-stroke of finesse--It wasME in perfection!--Surely my uncle Harlowe will never again be so takenin!'

  All this was the readier told me, because it was against me, and wouldtease and vex me. But as some of this fine recapitulation implied, thatsomebody spoke up for me. I was curious to know who it was. But Bettywould not tell me, for fear I should have the consolation to find thatall were not against me.

  But do you not see, my dear, what a sad creature she is whom you honourwith your friendship?--You could not doubt your influence over me: Whydid you not take the friendly liberty I have always taken with you,and tell me my faults, and what a specious hypocrite I am? For, if mybrother and sister could make such discoveries, how is it possible, thatfaults to enormous [you could see others, you thought, of a more secretnature!] could escape you penetrating eye?

  Well, but now, it seems, they are debating how and by whom to answer me:for they know not, nor are they to know, that Mrs. Betty has told me allthese fine things. One desires to be excused, it seems: another choosesnot to have any thing to say to me: another has enough of me: and ofwriting to so ready a scribbler, there will be no end.

  Thus are those imputed qualifications, which used so lately to gain meapplause, now become my crimes: so much do disgust and anger alter theproperty of things.

  The result of their debate, I suppose, will somehow or other becommunicated to me by-and-by. But let me tell you, my dear, that I ammade so desperate, that I am afraid to open Mr. Lovelace's letter,lest, in the humour I am in, I should do something (if I find it notexceptionable) that may give me repentance as long as I live.

  MONDAY NIGHT.

  This moment the following letter is brought me by Betty.

  MONDAY, 5 O'CLOCK

  MISS CUNNING-ONE,

  Your fine new proposal is thought unworthy of a particular answer. Youruncle Harlowe is ashamed to be so taken in. Have you no new fetch foryour uncle Antony? Go round with us, child, now your hand's in. But Iwas bid to write only one line, that you might not complain, as youdid of your worthy sister, for the freedoms you provoked: It isthis--Prepare yourself. To-morrow you go to my uncle Antony's. That'sall, child.

  JAMES HARLOWE.

  I was vexed to the heart at this: and immediately, in the warmth ofresentment, wrote the enclosed to my uncle Harlowe; who it seems stayshere this night.

  TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. MONDAY NIGHT.

  HONOURED SIR,

  I find I am a very sad creature, and did not know it. I wrote not to mybrother. To you, Sir, I wrote. From you I hope the honour of an answer.No one reveres her uncle more than I do. Nevertheless, between uncle andniece, excludes not such a hope: and I think I have not made a proposalthat deserves to be treated with scorn.

  Forgive me, Sir--my heart is full. Perhaps one day you may think youhave been prevailed upon (for that is plainly the case!) to join totreat me--as I do not deserve to be treated. If you are ashamed, as mybrother hints, of having expressed any returning tenderness to me, Godhelp me! I see I have no mercy to expect from any body! But, Sir, fromyour pen let me have an answer; I humbly implore it of you. Till mybrother can recollect what belongs to a sister, I will not take from himno answer to the letter I wrote to you, nor any commands whatever.

  I move every body!--This, Sir, is what you are pleased to mention. Butwhom have I moved?--One person in the family has more moving ways than Ihave, or he could never so undeservedly have made every body ashamed toshow tenderness to a poor distressed child of the same family.

  Return me not this with contempt, or torn, or unanswered, I beseech you.My father has a title to do that or any thing by his child: but from noother person in the world of your sex, Sir, ought a young creature ofmine (while she preserves a supplicating spirit) to be so treated.

  When what I have before written in the humblest strain has met with suchstrange constructions, I am afraid that this unguarded scrawl will bevery ill received. But I beg, Sir, you will oblige me with one line, beit ever so harsh, in answer to my proposal. I still think it ought tobe attended to. I will enter into the most solemn engagements to make itvalid by a perpetual single life. In a word, any thing I can do, I willdo, to be restored to all your favours. More I cannot say, but that Iam, very undeservedly,

  A most unhappy creature.

  Betty scrupled again to carry this letter; and said, she should haveanger; and I should have it returned in scraps and bits.

  I must take that chance, said I: I only desire that you will deliver itas directed.

  Sad doings! very sad! she said, that young ladies should so violentlyset themselves against their duty.

  I told her, she should have the liberty to say what she pleased, so shewould but be my messenger that one time: and down she went with it.

  I bid her, if she could, slide it into my uncle's hand, unseen; at leastunseen by my brother or sister, for fear it should meet, through theirgood office, with the fate she had bespoken for it.

  She would not undertake for that, she said.

&nbs
p; I am now in expectation of the result. But having so little ground tohope for their favour or mercy, I opened Mr. Lovelace's letter.

  I would send it to you, my dear (as well as those I shall enclose) bythis conveyance; but not being able at present to determine in whatmanner I shall answer it, I will give myself the trouble of abstractingit here, while I am waiting for what may offer from the letter justcarried down.

  'He laments, as usual, my ill opinion of him, and readiness to believeevery thing to his disadvantage. He puts into plain English, as Isupposed he would, my hint, that I might be happier, if, by any rashnesshe might be guilty of to Solmes, he should come to an untimely endhimself.'

  He is concerned, he says, 'That the violence he had expressed on hisextreme apprehensiveness of losing me, should have made him guilty ofany thing I had so much reason to resent.'

  He owns, 'That he is passionate: all good-natured men, he says, are so;and a sincere man cannot hide it.' But appeals to me, 'Whether, if anyoccasion in the world could excuse the rashness of his expressions, itwould not be his present dreadful situation, through my indifference,and the malice of his enemies.'

  He says, 'He has more reason than ever, from the contents of my last,to apprehend, that I shall be prevailed upon by force, if not by fairmeans, to fall in with my brother's measures; and sees but too plainly,that I am preparing him to expect it.

  'Upon this presumption, he supplicates, with the utmost earnestness,that I will not give way to the malice of his enemies.

  'Solemn vows of reformation, and everlasting truth and obligingness,he makes; all in the style of desponding humility: yet calls it a cruelturn upon him, to impute his protestations to a consciousness of thenecessity there is for making them from his bad character.

  'He despises himself, he solemnly protests, for his past follies. Hethanks God he has seen his error; and nothing but my more particularinstructions is wanting to perfect his reformation.

  'He promises, that he will do every thing that I shall think he can dowith honour, to bring about a reconciliation with my father; and evenwill, if I insist upon it, make the first overtures to my brother, andtreat him as his own brother, because he is mine, if he will not by newaffronts revive the remembrance of the past.

  'He begs, in the most earnest and humble manner, for one half-hour'sinterview; undertaking by a key, which he owns he has to thegarden-door, leading into the coppice, as we call it, (if I will butunbolt the door,) to come into the garden at night, and wait till I havean opportunity to come to him, that he may re-assure me of the truth ofall he writes, and of the affection, and, if needful, protection, of allhis family.

  'He presumes not, he says, to write by way of menace to me; but if Irefuse him this favour, he knows not (so desperate have some strokes inmy letter made him) what his despair may make him do.'

  He asks me, 'Determined, as my friends are, and far as they have alreadygone, and declare they will go, what can I propose to do, to avoidhaving Mr. Solmes, if I am carried to my uncle Antony's; unless Iresolve to accept of the protection he has offered to procure me; orexcept I will escape to London, or elsewhere, while I can escape?'

  He advises me, 'To sue to your mother, for her private reception ofme; only till I can obtain possession of my own estate, and procure myfriends to be reconciled to me; which he is sure they will be desirousto be, the moment I am out of their power.'

  He apprizes me, [It is still my wonder, how he comes by thisintelligence!] 'That my friends have written to my cousin Morden torepresent matters to him in their own partial way; nor doubt they toinfluence him on their side of the question.

  'That all this shews I have but one way; if none of my friends orintimates will receive me.

  'If I will transport him with the honour of my choice of this one way,settlements shall be drawn, with proper blanks, which I shall fill up asI pleased. Let him but have my commands from my own mouth, all my doubtsand scruples from my own lips; and only a repetition, that I will not,on any consideration, be Solmes's wife; and he shall be easy. But, aftersuch a letter as I have written, nothing but an interview can make himso.' He beseeches me therefore, 'To unbolt the door, as that very night;or, if I receive not this time enough, this night;--and he will, in adisguise that shall not give suspicion who he is, if he should be seen,come to the garden door, in hopes to open it with his key; nor will hehave any other lodging than in the coppice both nights; watching everywakeful hour for the propitious unbolting, unless he has a letter withmy orders to the contrary, or to make some other appointment.'

  This letter was dated yesterday: so he was there last night, I suppose;and will be there this night; and I have not written a line to him: andnow it is too late, were I determined what to write.

  I hope he will not go to Mr. Solmes.--I hope he will not comehither.--If he do either, I will break with him for ever.

  What have I to do with these headstrong spirits? I wish I had never--butwhat signifies wishing?--I am strangely perplexed: but I need not havetold you this, after such a representation of my situation.