LETTER XL
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY MORNING, SEVEN O'CLOCK, APRIL7.
My aunt Hervey, who is a very early riser, was walking in the garden(Betty attending her, as I saw from my window this morning) when Iarose: for after such a train of fatigue and restless nights, I hadunhappily overslept myself: so all I durst venture upon, was, to stepdown to my poultry-yard, and deposit mine of yesterday, and last night.And I am just come up; for she is still in the garden. This prevents mefrom going to resume my letter, as I think still to do; and hope it willnot be too late.
I said, I had unhappily overslept myself: I went to bed about halfan hour after two. I told the quarters till five; after which I droptasleep, and awaked not till past six, and then in great terror, from adream, which has made such an impression upon me, that, slightly as Ithink of dreams, I cannot help taking this opportunity to relate it toyou.
'Methought my brother, my uncle Antony, and Mr. Solmes, had formed aplot to destroy Mr. Lovelace; who discovering it, and believing I had ahand in it, turned all his rage against me. I thought he made them allfly to foreign parts upon it; and afterwards seizing upon me, carriedme into a church-yard; and there, notwithstanding, all my prayers andtears, and protestations of innocence, stabbed me to the heart, andthen tumbled me into a deep grave ready dug, among two or threehalf-dissolved carcases; throwing in the dirt and earth upon me with hishands, and trampling it down with his feet.'
I awoke in a cold sweat, trembling, and in agonies; and still thefrightful images raised by it remain upon my memory.
But why should I, who have such real evils to contend with, regardimaginary ones? This, no doubt, was owing to my disturbed imagination;huddling together wildly all the frightful idea which my aunt'scommunications and discourse, my letter to Mr. Lovelace, my ownuneasiness upon it, and the apprehensions of the dreaded Wednesday,furnished me with.
*****
EIGHT O'CLOCK.
The man, my dear, has got the letter!--What a strange diligence! I wishhe mean me well, that he takes so much pains!--Yet, to be ingenuous, Imust own, that I should be displeased if he took less--I wish, however,he had been an hundred miles off!--What an advantage have I given himover me!
Now the letter is out of my power, I have more uneasiness and regretthan I had before. For, till now, I had a doubt, whether it should orshould not go: and now I think it ought not to have gone. And yet isthere any other way than to do as I have done, if I would avoid Solmes?But what a giddy creature shall I be thought, if I pursue the course towhich this letter must lead me?
My dearest friend, tell me, have I done wrong?--Yet do not say I have,if you think it; for should all the world besides condemn me, I shallhave some comfort, if you do not. The first time I ever besought you toflatter me. That, of itself, is an indication that I have done wrong,and am afraid of hearing the truth--O tell me (but yet do not tell me)if I have done wrong!
*****
FRIDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK.
My aunt has made me another visit. She began what she had to saywith letting me know that my friends are all persuaded that I stillcorrespond with Mr. Lovelace; as is plain, she said, by hints andmenaces he throws out, which shew that he is apprized of several thingsthat have passed between my relations and me, sometimes within a verylittle while after they have happened.
Although I approve not of the method he stoops to take to come at hisintelligence, yet it is not prudent in me to clear myself by the ruin ofthe corrupted servant, (although his vileness has neither my connivancenor approbation,) since my doing so might occasion the detection of myown correspondence; and so frustrate all the hopes I have to avoidthis Solmes. Yet it is not at all likely, that this very agent of Mr.Lovelace acts a double part between my brother and him: How else can ourfamily know (so soon too) his menaces upon the passages they hint at?
I assured my aunt, that I was too much ashamed of the treatment I metwith (and that from every one's sake as well as for my own) to acquaintMr. Lovelace with the particulars of that treatment, even were the meansof corresponding with him afforded me: that I had reason to think, thatif he were to know of it from me, we must be upon such terms, thathe would not scruple making some visits, which would give me greatapprehensions. They all knew, I said, that I had no communicationwith any of my father's servants, except my sister's Betty Barnes: foralthough I had a good opinion of them all, and believed, if left totheir own inclinations, that they would be glad to serve me; yet,finding by their shy behaviour, that they were under particulardirection, I had forborn, ever since my Hannah had been so disgracefullydismissed, so much as to speak to any of them, for fear I should be theoccasion of their losing their places too. They must, therefore, accountamong themselves for the intelligence Mr. Lovelace met with, sinceneither my brother nor sister, (as Betty had frequently, in praise oftheir open hearts, informed me,) nor perhaps their favourite Mr. Solmes,were all careful before whom they spoke, when they had any thing tothrow out against him, or even against me, whom they took great pride tojoin with him on this occasion.
It was but too natural, my aunt said, for my friends to suppose thathe had his intelligence (part of it at least) from me; who, thinkingyourself hardly treated, might complain of it, if not to him, to MissHowe; which, perhaps, might be the same thing; for they knew Miss Howespoke as freely of them, as they could do of Mr. Lovelace; and must havethe particulars she spoke of from somebody who knew what was done here.That this determined my father to bring the whole matter to a speedyissue, lest fatal consequences should ensue.
I perceive you are going to speak with warmth, proceeded she: [and so Iwas] for my own part I am sure, you would not write any thing, if youdo write, to inflame so violent a spirit.--But this is not the end of mypresent visit.
You cannot, my dear, but be convinced, that your father will be obeyed.The more you contend against his will, the more he thinks himselfobliged to assert his authority. Your mother desires me to tell you,that if you will give her the least hopes of a dutiful compliance, shewill be willing to see you in her closet just now, while your father isgone to take a walk in the garden.
Astonishing perseverance! said I--I am tired with making declarationsand with pleadings on this subject; and had hoped, that my resolutionbeing so well known, I should not have been further urged upon it.
You mistake the purport of my present visit, Miss: [lookinggravely]--Heretofore you have been desired and prayed to obey and obligeyour friends. Entreaty is at an end: they give it up. Now it is resolvedupon, that your father's will is to be obeyed; as it is fit it should.Some things are laid at your door, as if you concurred with Lovelace'sthreatened violence to carry you off, which your mother will notbelieve. She will tell you her own good opinion of you. She will tellyou how much she still loves you; and what she expects of you onthe approaching occasion. But yet, that she may not be exposed to anopposition which would the more provoke her, she desires that you willfirst assure her that you go down with a resolution to do that with agrace which must be done with or without a grace. And besides, she wantsto give you some advice how to proceed in order to reconcile yourselfto your father, and to every body else. Will you go down, Miss Clary, orwill you not?
I said, I should think myself happy, could I be admitted to my mother'spresence, after so long a banishment from it; but that I could not wishit upon those terms.
And this is your answer, Niece?
It must be my answer, Madam. Come what may, I never will have Mr.Solmes. It is cruel to press this matter so often upon me.--I never willhave that man.
Down she went with displeasure. I could not help it. I was quite tiredwith so many attempts, all to the same purpose. I am amazed that theyare not!--So little variation! and no concession on either side!
I will go down and deposit this; for Betty has seen I have been writing.The saucy creature took a napkin, and dipt it in water, and with afleering air, here, Miss; holding the wet corner to me.
What's that for? said I.
Onl
y, Miss, one of the fingers of your right-hand, if you please to lookat it.
It was inky.
I gave her a look; but said nothing.
But, lest I should have another search, I will close here.
CL. HARLOWE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2 Page 43