LETTER LXIII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.WED. MORN. SEPT. 6, HALF AN HOUR AFTER THREE.
I am not the savage which you and my worst enemies think me. My soul istoo much penetrated by the contents of the letter which you enclosed inyour last, to say one word more to it, than that my heart has bled overit from every vein!--I will fly from the subject--but what other can Ichoose, that will not be as grievous, and lead into the same?
I could quarrel with all the world; with thee, as well as the rest;obliging as thou supposest thyself for writing to me hourly. How darestthou, (though unknown to her,) to presume to take an apartment under thesane roof with her?--I cannot bear to think that thou shouldest be seen,at all hours passing to and repassing from her apartments, while I, whohave so much reason to call her mine, and one was preferred by her to allthe world, am forced to keep aloof, and hardly dare to enter the citywhere she is!
If there be any thing in Brand's letter that will divert me, hasten it tome. But nothing now will ever divert me, will ever again give me joy orpleasure! I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep. I am sick of all theworld.
Surely it will be better when all is over--when I know the worst theFates can do against me--yet how shall I bear that worst?--O Belford,Belford! write it not to me!--But if it must happen, get somebody else towrite; for I shall curse the pen, the hand, the head, and the heart,employed in communicating to me the fatal tidings. But what is thissaying, when already I curse the whole world except her--myself most?
In fine, I am a most miserable being. Life is a burden to me. I wouldnot bear it upon these terms for one week more, let what would be my lot;for already is there a hell begun in my own mind. Never more mention itto me, let her, or who will say it, the prison--I cannot bear it--Mayd----n----n seize quick the cursed woman, who could set death upon takingthat large stride, as the dear creature calls it!--I had no hand in it!--But her relations, her implacable relations, have done the business. Allelse would have been got over. Never persuade me but it would. The fireof youth, and the violence of passion, would have pleaded for me to goodpurpose, with an individual of a sex, which loves to be addressed withpassionate ardour, even to tumult, had it not been for that cruelty andunforgivingness, which, (the object and the penitence considered,) haveno example, and have aggravated the heinousness of my faults.
Unable to rest, though I went not to bed till two, I dispatch this erethe day dawn--who knows what this night, this dismal night, may haveproduced!
I must after my messenger. I have told the varlet I will meet him,perhaps at Knightsbridge, perhaps in Piccadilly; and I trust not myselfwith pistols, not only on his account, but my own--for pistols are tooready a mischief.
I hope thou hast a letter ready for him. He goes to thy lodgings first--for surely thou wilt not presume to take thy rest in an apartment nearher's. If he miss thee there, he flies to Smith's, and brings me wordwhether in being, or not.
I shall look for him through the air as I ride, as well as on horseback;for if the prince of it serve me, as well as I have served him, he willbring the dog by his ears, like another Habakkuk, to my saddle-bow, withthe tidings that my heart pants after.
Nothing but the excruciating pangs the condemned soul fells, at itsentrance into the eternity of the torments we are taught to fear, canexceed what I now feel, and have felt for almost this week past; andmayest thou have a spice of those, if thou hast not a letter readywritten for thy
LOVELACE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8 Page 64