Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8

by Samuel Richardson

  LETTER XLIII

  MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.THURSDAY, 11 O'CLOCK, AUG. 31.

  I am just come from the lady, whom I left cheerful and serene.

  She thanked me for my communication of the preceding night. I read toher such parts of your letters as I could read to her; and I thought itwas a good test to distinguish the froth and whipt-syllabub in them fromthe cream, in what one could and could not read to a woman of so fine amind; since four parts out of six of thy letters, which I thoughtentertaining as I read them to myself, appeared to me, when I should haveread them to her, most abominable stuff, and gave me a very contemptibleidea of thy talents, and of my own judgment.

  She as far from rejoicing, as I had done, at the disappointment herletter gave you when explained.

  She said, she meant only an innocent allegory, which might carryinstruction and warning to you, when the meaning was taken, as well asanswer her own hopes for the time. It was run off in a hurry. She wasafraid it was not quite right in her. But hoped the end would excuse (ifit could not justify) the means. And then she again expressed a gooddeal of apprehension lest you should still take it into your head tomolest her, when her time, she said, was so short, that she wanted everymoment of it; repeating what she had once said before, that, when shewrote, she was so ill that she believed she should not have lived tillnow: if she had thought she should, she must have studied for anexpedient that would have better answered her intentions. Hinting at aremoval out of the knowledge of us both.

  But she was much pleased that the conference between you and ColonelMorden, after two or three such violent sallies, as I acquainted her youhad had between you, ended so amicably; and said she must absolutelydepend upon the promise I had given her to use my utmost endeavours toprevent farther mischief on her account.

  She was pleased with the justice you did her character to her cousin.

  She was glad to hear that he had so kind an opinion of her, and that hewould write to her.

  I was under an unnecessary concern, how to break to her that I had thecopy of Brand's vile letter: unnecessary, I say; for she took it just asyou thought she would, as an excuse she wished to have for theimplacableness of her friends; and begged I would let her read itherself; for, said she, the contents cannot disturb me, be they what theywill.

  I gave it to her, and she read it to herself; a tear now and then beingready to start, and a sigh sometimes interposing.

  She gave me back the letter with great and surprising calmness,considering the subject.

  There was a time, said she, and that not long since, when such a letteras this would have greatly pained me. But I hope I have now go above allthese things: and I can refer to your kind offices, and to those of MissHowe, the justice that will be done to my memory among my friends. Thereis a good and a bad light in which every thing that befalls us may betaken. If the human mind will busy itself to make the worst of everydisagreeable occurrence, it will never want woe. This letter, affectingas the subject of it is to my reputation, gives me more pleasure thanpain, because I can gather from it, that had not my friends beenprepossessed by misinformed or rash and officious persons, who are alwaysat hand to flatter or soothe the passions of the affluent, they could nothave been so immovably determined against me. But now they aresufficiently cleared from every imputation of unforgivingness; for, whileI appeared to them in the character of a vile hypocrite, pretending totrue penitence, yet giving up myself to profligate courses, how could Iexpect either their pardon or blessing?

  But, Madam, said I, you'll see by the date of this letter, that theirseverity, previous to that, cannot be excused by it.

  It imports me much, replied she, on account of my present wishes, as tothe office you are so kind to undertake, that you should not thinkharshly of my friends. I must own to you, that I have been apt sometimesmyself to think them not only severe but cruel. Suffering minds will bepartial to their own cause and merits. Knowing their own hearts, ifsincere, they are apt to murmur when harshly treated: But, if they arenot believed to be innocent, by persons who have a right to decide upontheir conduct according to their own judgments, how can it be helped?Besides, Sir, how do you know, that there are not about my friends aswell-meaning misrepresenters as Mr. Brand really seems to be? But, bethis as it will, there is no doubt that there are and have beenmultitudes of persons, as innocent as myself, who have suffered uponsurmises as little probable as those on which Mr. Brand founds hisjudgment. Your intimacy, Sir, with Mr. Lovelace, and (may I say?) acharacter which, it seems, you have been less solicitous formerly tojustify than perhaps you will be for the future, and your frequent visitsto me may well be thought to be questionable circumstances in my conduct.

  I could only admire her in silence.

  But you see, Sir, proceeded she, how necessary it is for young people ofour sex to be careful of our company. And how much, at the same time, itbehoves young persons of your's to be chary of their own reputation, wereit only for the sake of such of our's as they may mean honourably by, andwho otherwise may suffer in their good names for being seen in theircompany.

  As to Mr. Brand, continued she, he is to be pitied; and let me enjoinyou, Mr. Belford, not to take any resentments against him which may bedetrimental either to his person or his fortunes. Let his function andhis good meaning plead for him. He will have concern enough, when hefinds every body, whose displeasure I now labour under, acquitting mymemory of perverse guilt, and joining in a general pity for me.

  This, Lovelace, is the woman whose life thou hast curtailed in theblossom of it!--How many opportunities must thou have had of admiring herinestimable worth, yet couldst have thy senses so much absorbed in theWOMAN, in her charming person, as to be blind to the ANGEL, that shinesout in such full glory in her mind! Indeed, I have ever thought myself,when blest with her conversation, in the company of a real angel: and Iam sure it would be impossible for me, were she to be as beautiful, andas crimsoned over with health, as I have seen her, to have the leastthought of sex, when I heard her talk.

  THURSDAY, THREE O'CLOCK, AUG. 31.

  On my re-visit to the lady, I found her almost as much a sufferer fromjoy as she had sometimes been from grief; for she had just received avery kind letter from her cousin Morden; which she was so good as tocommunicate to me. As she had already begun to answer it, I begged leaveto attend her in the evening, that I might not interrupt her in it.

  The letter is a very tender one * * * *

  [Here Mr. Belford gives the substance of it upon his memory; but that is omitted; as the letter is given at length (see the next letter.) And then adds:]

  But, alas! all will be now too late. For the decree is certainly goneout--the world is unworthy of her.