LETTER III
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWETHURSDAY MORNING, EIGHT O'CLOCK.
I am more and more displeased with Mr. Lovelace, on reflection, for hisboldness in hoping to make me, though but passively, as I may say,testify to his great untruth. And I shall like him still less for it, ifhis view in it does not come out to be the hope of accelerating myresolution in his favour, by the difficulty it will lay me under as to mybehaviour to him. He has sent me his compliments by Dorcas, with arequest that I will permit him to attend me in the dining-room,--meet himin good humour, or not: but I have answered, that as I shall see him atbreakfast-time I desired to be excused.
TEN O'CLOCK.
I tried to adjust my countenance, before I went down, to an easier airthan I had a heart, and was received with the highest tokens of respectby the widow and her two nieces: agreeable young women enough in theirpersons; but they seemed to put on an air of reserve; while Mr. Lovelacewas easy and free to all, as if he were of long acquaintance with them:gracefully enough, I cannot but say; an advantage which travelledgentlemen have over other people.
The widow, in the conversation we had after breakfast, gave us an accountof the military merit of the Colonel her husband, and, upon thisoccasion, put her handkerchief to her eyes twice or thrice. I hope forthe sake of her sincerity, she wetted it, because she would be thought tohave done so; but I saw not that she did. She wished that I might neverknow the loss of a husband so dear to me, as her beloved Colonel was toher: and she again put the handkerchief to her eyes.
It must, no doubt, be a most affecting thing to be separated from a goodhusband, and to be left in difficult circumstances besides, and that notby his fault, and exposed to the insults of the base and ungrateful, asshe represented her case to be at his death. This moved me a good dealin her favour.
You know, my dear, that I have an open and free heart; and naturally haveas open and free a countenance; at least my complimenters have told meso. At once, where I like, I mingle minds without reserve, encouragingreciprocal freedoms, and am forward to dissipate diffidences. But withthese two nieces of the widow I never can be intimate--I don't know why.
Only that circumstances, and what passed in conversation, encouraged notthe notion, or I should have been apt to think, that the young ladies andMr. Lovelace were of longer acquaintance than of yesterday. For he, bystealth as it were, cast glances sometimes at them, when they returned;and, on my ocular notice, their eyes fell, as I may say, under my eye, asif they could not stand its examination.
The widow directed all her talk to me, as to Mrs. Lovelace; and I, with avery ill grace bore it. And once she expressed more forwardly than Ithanked her for, her wonder that any vow, any consideration, howeverweighty, could have force enough with so charming a couple, as she calledhim and me, to make us keep separate beds.
Their eyes, upon this hint, had the advantage of mine. Yet was I notconscious of guilt. How know I then, upon recollection, that my censuresupon theirs are not too rash? There are, no doubt, many truly modestpersons (putting myself out of the question) who, by blushes at aninjurious charge, have been suspected, by those who cannot distinguishbetween the confusion which guilt will be attended with, and the nobleconsciousness that overspreads the face of a fine spirit, to be thoughtbut capable of an imputed evil.
The great Roman, as we read, who took his surname from one part in three(the fourth not then discovered) of the world he had triumphed over,being charged with a great crime to his soldiery, chose rather to sufferexile (the punishment due to it, had he been found guilty) than to haveit said, that Scipio was questioned in public, on so scandalous a charge.And think you, my dear, that Scipio did not blush with indignation, whenthe charge was first communicated to him?
Mr. Lovelace, when the widow expressed her forward wonder, looked sly andleering, as if to observe how I took it: and said, they might take noticethat his regard for my will and pleasure (calling me his dear creature)had greater force upon him than the oath by which he had bound himself.
Rebuking both him and the widow, I said, it was strange to me to hear anoath or vow so lightly treated, as to have it thought but of secondconsideration, whatever were the first.
The observation was just, Miss Martin said; for that nothing could excusethe breaking of a solemn vow, be the occasion of making it what it would.
I asked her after the nearest church; for I have been too long a strangerto the sacred worship. They named St. James's, St. Anne's, and anotherin Bloomsbury; and the two nieces said they oftenest went to St. James'schurch, because of the good company, as well as for the excellentpreaching.
Mr. Lovelace said, the Royal Chapel was the place he oftenest went to,when he was in town. Poor man! little did I expect to hear he went toany place of devotion. I asked, if the presence of the visible king of,comparatively, but a small territory, did not take off, too generally,the requisite attention to the service of the invisible King and Makerof a thousand worlds?
He believed this might be so with such as came for curiosity, when theroyal family were present. But otherwise, he had seen as many contritefaces at the Royal Chapel, as any where else: and why not? Since thepeople about court have as deep scores to wipe off, as any peoplewhatsoever.
He spoke this with so much levity, that I could not help saying, thatnobody questioned but he knew how to choose his company.
Your servant, my dear, bowing, were his words; and turning to them, youwill observe upon numberless occasions, ladies, as we are furtheracquainted, that my beloved never spares me upon these topics. But Iadmire her as much in her reproofs, as I am fond of her approbation.
Miss Horton said, there was a time for every thing. She could not butsay, that she thought innocent mirth was mighty becoming in young people.
Very true, joined in Miss Martin. And Shakespeare says well, that youthis the spring of life, the bloom of gaudy years [with a theatrical air,she spoke it:] and for her part, she could not but admire in my spousethat charming vivacity which so well suited his time of life.
Mr. Lovelace bowed. The man is fond of praise. More fond of it, Idoubt, than of deserving it. Yet this sort of praise he does deserve.He has, you know, an easy free manner, and no bad voice: and this praiseso expanded his gay heart, that he sung the following lines fromCongreve, as he told us they were:
Youth does a thousand pleasures bring, Which from decrepid age will fly; Sweets that wanton in the bosom of the spring, In winter's cold embraces die.
And this for a compliment, as he said, to the two nieces. Nor was itthrown away upon them. They encored it; and his compliance fixed themin my memory.
We had some talk about meals, and the widow very civilly offered toconform to any rules I would set her. I told her how easily I waspleased, and how much I chose to dine by myself, and that from a platesent me from any single dish. But I will not trouble you, my dear, withsuch particulars.
They thought me very singular; and with reason: but as I liked them notso very well as to forego my own choice in compliment to them, I was theless concerned for what they thought.--And still the less, as Mr. Lovelacehad put me very much out of humour with him.
They, however, cautioned me against melancholy. I said, I should be avery unhappy creature if I could not bear my own company.
Mr. Lovelace said, that he must let the ladies into my story, and thenthey would know how to allow for my ways. But, my dear, as you love me,said the confident wretch, give as little way to melancholy as possible.Nothing but the sweetness of your temper, and your high notions of a dutythat never can be deserved where you place it, can make you so uneasy asyou are.--Be not angry, my dear love, for saying so, [seeing me frown, Isuppose:] and snatched my hand and kissed it.--I left him with them; andretired to my closet and my pen.
Just as I have written thus far, I am interrupted by a message from him,that he is setting out on a journey, and desires to take my commands.--Sohere I will leave off, to give him a meetin
g in the dining-room.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 4