LETTER XXX
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWEMONDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 15.
Now indeed it is evident, my best, my only friend, that I have but onechoice to make. And now I do find that I have carried my resentmentagainst this man too far; since now I am to appear as if under anobligation to his patience with me for a conduct, which perhaps he willthink (if not humoursome and childish) plainly demonstrative of my littleesteem of him; of but a secondary esteem at least, where before, hispride, rather than his merit, had made him expect a first. O my dear! tobe cast upon a man that is not a generous man; that is indeed a cruelman! a man that is capable of creating a distress to a young creature,who, by her evil destiny is thrown into his power; and then of enjoyingit, as I may say! [I verily think I may say so, of this savage!]--Whata fate is mine!
You give me, my dear, good advice, as to the peremptory manner in which Iought to treat him: But do you consider to whom it is that you give it?--And then should I take it, and should he be capable of delay, Iunprotected, desolate, nobody to fly to, in what a wretched light must Istand in his eyes; and, what is still as bad, in my own! O my dear, seeyou not, as I do, that the occasion for this my indelicate, my shockingsituation should never have been given by me, of all creatures; since Iam unequal, utterly unequal, to the circumstances to which myinconsideration has reduced me?--What! I to challenge a man for ahusband!--I to exert myself to quicken the delayer in his resolutions!and, having as you think lost an opportunity, to begin to try to recallit, as from myself, and for myself! to threaten him, as I may say, intothe marriage state!--O my dear! if this be right to be done, howdifficult is it, where modesty and self (or where pride, if you please)is concerned, to do that right? or, to express myself in your words, tobe father, mother, uncle, to myself!--especially where one thinks atriumph over one is intended.
You say, you have tried Mrs. Norton's weight with my mother--bad as thereturns are which my application by Mr. Hickman has met with, you tellme, 'that you have not acquainted me with all the bad, nor now, perhaps,ever will.' But why so, my dear? What is the bad, what can be the bad,which now you will never tell me of?--What worse, than renounce me! andfor ever! 'My uncle, you say, believes me ruined: he declares that hecan believe every thing bad of a creature who could run away with a man:and they have all made a resolution not to stir an inch in my favour; no,not to save my life!'--Have you worse than this, my dear, behind?--Surelymy father has not renewed his dreadful malediction!--Surely, if so, mymother has not joined in it! Have my uncles given their sanction, andmade it a family act? And themselves thereby more really faulty, thanever THEY suppose me to be, though I the cause of that greater fault inthem?--What, my dear, is the worst, that you will leave for everunrevealed?
O Lovelace! why comest thou not just now, while these black prospects arebefore me? For now, couldst thou look into my heart, wouldst thou see adistress worthy of thy barbarous triumph!
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I was forced to quit my pen. And you say you have tried Mrs. Norton'sweight with my mother?
What is done cannot be remedied: but I wish you had not taken a step ofthis importance to me without first consulting me. Forgive me, my dear,but I must tell you that that high-soul'd and noble friendship which youhave ever avowed with so obliging and so uncommon a warmth, although ithas been always the subject of my grateful admiration, has been often theground of my apprehension, because of its unbridled fervour.
Well, but now to look forward, you are of opinion that I must be his: andthat I cannot leave him with reputation to myself, whether with orwithout his consent. I must, if so, make the best of the bad matter.
He went out in the morning; intending not to return to dinner, unless (ashe sent me word) I would admit him to dine with me.
I excused myself. The man, whose anger is now to be of such highimportance to me, was, it seems, displeased.
As he (as well as I) expected that I should receive a letter from youthis day by Collins, I suppose he will not be long before he returns; andthen, possibly, he is to be mighty stately, mighty mannish, mighty coy,if you please! And then must I be very humble, very submissive, and tryto insinuate myself into his good graces: with downcast eye, if not byspeech, beg his forgiveness for the distance I have so perversely kepthim at?--Yes, I warrant!--But I shall see how this behaviour will situpon me!--You have always rallied me upon my meekness, I think: wellthen, I will try if I can be still meeker, shall I!--O my dear!--
But let me sit with my hands before me, all patience, all resignation;for I think I hear him coming up. Or shall I roundly accost him, in thewords, in the form, which you, my dear, prescribed?
He is come in. He has sent to me, all impatience, as Dorcas says, by hisaspect.--But I cannot, cannot see him!
MONDAY NIGHT.
The contents of your letter, and my own heavy reflections, rendered meincapable of seeing this expecting man. The first word he asked Dorcas,was, If I had received a letter since he had been out? She told me this;and her answer, that I had; and was fasting, and had been in tears eversince.
He sent to desire an interview with me.
I answered by her, That I was not very well. In the morning, if better,I would see him as soon as he pleased.
Very humble! was it not, my dear? Yet he was too royal to take it forhumility; for Dorcas told me, he rubbed one side of his face impatiently;and said a rash word, and was out of humour; stalking about the room.
Half an hour later, he sent again; desiring very earnestly, that I shouldadmit him to supper with me. He would enter upon no subjects ofconversation but what I should lead to.
So I should have been at liberty, you see, to court him!
I again desired to be excused.
Indeed, my dear, my eyes were swelled: I was very low spirited; and couldnot think of entering all at once, after the distance I had kept him atfor several days, into the freedom of conversation which the utterrejection I have met with from my relations, as well as your advice, hasmade necessary.
He sent up to tell me, that as he heard I was fasting, if I would promiseto eat some chicken which Mrs. Sinclair had ordered for supper, he wouldacquiesce.--Very kind in his anger! Is he not?
I promised that I would. Can I be more preparatively condescending?--Howhappy, I'll warrant, if I may meet him in a kind and forgiving humour!
I hate myself! But I won't be insulted. Indeed I won't, for all this.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 31