CLARISSA HARLOWE

or the

HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY

Nine Volumes

Volume V. 

CONTENTS OF VOLUME V

LETTER I. Lovelace to Belford. --An agreeable airing with the lady. Delightfully easy she. Obsequiouslyrespectful he. Miss Howe's plot now no longer his terror. Gives theparticulars of their agreeable conversation while abroad. 

LETTER II. From the same. --An account of his ipecacuanha plot. Instructs Dorcas how to act surpriseand terror. Monosyllables and trisyllables to what likened. Politenesslives not in a storm. Proclamation criers. The lady now sees she loveshim. Her generous tenderness for him. He has now credit for a newscore. Defies Mrs. Townsend. 

LETTER III. Clarissa to Miss Howe. --Acknowledged tenderness for Lovelace. Love for a man of errorspunishable. 

LETTER IV. Lovelace to Belford. --Suspicious inquiry after him and the lady by a servant in livery from oneCaptain Tomlinson. Her terrors on the occasion. His alarmingmanagement. She resolves not to stir abroad. He exults upon her notbeing willing to leave him. 

LETTER V. VI. From the same. --Arrival of Captain Tomlinson, with a pretended commission from Mr. JohnHarlowe to set on food a general reconciliation, provided he can beconvinced that they are actually married. Different conversations on thisoccasion. --The lady insists that the truth be told to Tomlinson. Shecarries her point through to the disappointment of one of his privateviews. He forms great hopes of success from the effects of hisipecacuanha contrivance. 

LETTER VII. Lovelace to Belford. --He makes such a fair representation to Tomlinson of the situation betweenhim and the lady, behaves so plausibly, and makes an overture sogenerous, that she is all kindness and unreserved to him. Her affectingexultation on her amended prospects. His unusual sensibility upon it. Reflection on the good effects of education. Pride an excellentsubstitute to virtue. 

LETTER VIII. From the same. --Who Tomlinson is. Again makes Belford object, in order to explain hisdesigns by answering the objections. John Harlowe a sly sinner. Hard-hearted reasons for giving the lady a gleam of joy. Illustrated by astory of two sovereigns at war. 

Extracts from Clarissa's letter to Miss Howe. She rejoices in herpresent agreeable prospects. Attributes much to Mr. Hickman. DescribesCaptain Tomlinson. Gives a character of Lovelace, [which is necessary tobe attended to: especially by those who have thought favourably of himfor some of his liberal actions, and hardly of her for the distance sheat first kept him at. ]

LETTER IX. Lovelace to Belford. --Letter from Lord M. His further arts and precautions. His happy daypromised to be soon. His opinion of the clergy, and of going to church. She pities every body who wants pity. Loves every body. He owns heshould be the happiest of men, could he get over his prejudices againstmatrimony. Draughts of settlements. Ludicrously accounts for the reasonwhy she refuses to hear them read to her. Law and gospel two differentthings. Sally flings her handkerchief in his face. 

LETTER X. From the same. --Has made the lady more than once look about her. She owns that he ismore than indifferent to her. Checks him with sweetness of temper forhis encroaching freedoms. Her proof of true love. He ridicules marriagepurity. Severely reflects upon public freedoms between men and theirwives. Advantage he once made upon such an occasion. Has been after alicense. Difficulty in procuring one. Great faults and great virtuesoften in the same person. He is willing to believe that women have nosouls. His whimsical reasons. 

LETTER XI. Lovelace to Belford. --Almost despairs of succeeding (as he had hoped) by love and gentleness. Praises her modesty. His encroaching freedoms resented by her. Thewoman, he observes, who resents not initiatory freedoms, must be lost. He reasons, in his free way, upon her delicacy. Art of the Easternmonarchs. 

LETTER XII. From the same. --A letter from Captain Tomlinson makes all up. Her uncle Harlowe'spretended proposal big with art and plausible delusion. She acquiescesin it. He writes to the pretended Tomlinson, on an affecting hint ofher's, requesting that her uncle Harlowe would, in person, give his nieceto him; or permit Tomlinson to be his proxy on the occasion. --And now fora little of mine, he says, which he has ready to spring. 

LETTER XIII. Belford to Lovelace. --Again earnestly expostulates with him in the lady's favour. Remembersand applauds the part she bore in the conversation at his collation. Thefrothy wit of libertines how despicable. Censures the folly, theweakness, the grossness, the unpermanency of sensual love. Calls some ofhis contrivances trite, stale, and poor. Beseeches him to remove herfrom the vile house. How many dreadful stories could the horrid Sinclairtell the sex! Serious reflections on the dying state of his uncle. 

LETTER XIV. Lovelace to Belford. --Cannot yet procure a license. Has secured a retreat, if not victory. Defends in anger the simplicity of his inventive contrivances. Entersupon his general defence, compared with the principles and practices ofother libertines. Heroes and warlike kings worse men than he. Epitomeof his and the lady's story after ten years' cohabitation. Caution tothose who would censure him. Had the sex made virtue a recommendation totheir favour, he says, he should have had a greater regard to his moralsthan he has had. 

LETTER XV. From the same. --Preparative to his little mine, as he calls it. Loves to write to themoment. Alarm begins. Affectedly terrified. 

LETTER XVI. From the same. --The lady frighted out of her bed by dreadful cries of fire. She awes himinto decency. On an extorted promise of forgiveness, he leaves her. Repenting, he returns; but finds her door fastened. What a triumph hasher sex obtained by her virtue! But how will she see him next morning, as he has given her. 

LETTER XVII. Lovelace to Belford. --Dialogue with Clarissa, the door between them. Her letter to him. Shewill not see him for a week. 

LETTER XVIII. From the same. --Copies of letters that pass between them. Goes to the commons to try toget the license. She shall see him, he declares, on his return. Loveand compassion hard to be separated. Her fluctuating reasons on theirpresent situation. Is jealous of her superior qualities. Does justiceto her immovable virtue. 

LETTER XIX. From the same. --The lady escaped. His rage. Makes a solemn vow of revenge, if once morehe gets her into his power. His man Will. Is gone in search of her. Hishopes; on what grounded. He will advertise her. Describes her dress. Letter left behind her. Accuses her (that is to say, LOVELACE accusesher, ) of niceness, prudery, affectation. 

LETTER XX. From the same. --A letter from Miss Howe to Clarissa falls into his hands; which, had itcome to her's, would have laid open and detected all his designs. In itshe acquits Clarissa of prudery, coquetry, and undue reserve. Admires, applauds, blesses her for the example she has set for her sex, and forthe credit she has done it, by her conduct in the most difficultsituations. 

[This letter may be considered as a kind of summary of Clarissa's trials, her persecutions, and exemplary conduct hitherto; and of Mr. Lovelace'sintrigues, plots, and views, so far as Miss Howe could be supposed toknow them, or to guess at them. ]

A letter from Lovelace, which farther shows the fertility of hiscontriving genius. 

LETTER XXI. Clarissa to Miss Howe. --Informs her of Lovelace's villany, and of her escape. Her only concern, what. The course she intends to pursue. 

LETTER XXII. Lovelace to Belford. --Exults on hearing, from his man Will. , that the lady has refuged herselfat Hampstead. Observations in a style of levity on some passages in theletter she left behind her. Intimates that Tomlinson is arrived to aidhis purposes. The chariot is come; and now, dressed like a bridegroom, attended by a footman she never saw, he is already, he says, atHampstead. 

LETTER XXIII. XXIV. Lovelace to Belford. --Exults on his contrivances. --By what means he gets into the lady'spresence at Mrs. Moore's. Her terrors, fits, exclamations. Hisplausible tales to Mrs. Moore and Miss Rawlins. His intrepid behaviourto the lady. Copies of letters from Tomlinson, and of pretended onesfrom his own relations, calculated to pacify and delude her. 

LETTER XXV. XXVI. From the same. --His farther arts, inventions, and intrepidity. She puts home questionsto him. 'Ungenerous and ungrateful she calls him. He knows not thevalue of the heart he had insulted. He had a plain path before him, after he had tricked her out of her father's house! But that now hermind was raised above fortune, and above him. ' His precautionarycontrivances. 

LETTER XXVII. XXVIII. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. From the same. --Character of widow Bevis. Prepossesses the women against Miss Howe. Leads them to think she is in love with him. Apt himself to think so;and why. Women like not novices; and why. Their vulgar aphorismanimadverted on. Tomlinson arrives. Artful conversation between them. Miss Rawlins's prudery. His forged letter in imitation of Miss Howe's, No. IV. Other contrivances to delude the lady, and attach the women tohis party. 

LETTER XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. From the same. --Particulars of several interesting conversations between himself, Tomlinson, and the lady. Artful management of the two former. Her noblespirit. He tells Tomlinson before her that he never had any proof ofaffection from her. She frankly owns the regard she once had for him. 'He had brought her, ' she tells Tomlinson and him, 'more than once to ownit to him. Nor did his own vanity, she was sure, permit him to doubt ofit. He had kept her soul in suspense an hundred times. ' Both menaffected in turn by her noble behaviour, and great sentiments. Theirpleas, prayers, prostrations, to move her to relent. Her distress. 

THE HISTORY

OF

CLARISSA HARLOWE

LETTER I

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY EVENING. 

Just returned from an airing with my charmer, complied with after greatimportunity. She was attended by the two nymphs. They both topt theirparts; kept their eyes within bounds; made moral reflections now-and-then. O Jack! what devils are women, when all tests are got over, and wehave completely ruined them!

The coach carried us to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill; back toHampstead to the Upper-Flask: there, in compliment to the nymphs, mybeloved consented to alight, and take a little repast. Then home earlyby Kentish-town. 

Delightfully easy she, and so respectful and obliging I, all the way, andas we walked out upon the heath, to view the variegated prospects whichthat agreeable elevation affords, that she promised to take now-and-thena little excursion with me. I think, Miss Howe, I think, said I tomyself, every now-and-then as we walked, that thy wicked devices aresuperceded. 

But let me give thee a few particulars of our conversation in thecircumrotation we took, while in the coach--She had received a letterfrom Miss Howe yesterday, I presumed?

She made no answer. How happy should I think myself to be admitted intotheir correspondence? I would joyfully make an exchange ofcommunications. 

So, though I hoped not to succeed by her consent, [and little did shethink I had so happily in part succeeded without it, ] I thought it notamiss to urge for it, for several reasons: among others, that I mightaccount to her for my constant employment at my pen; in order to take offher jealousy, that she was the subject of thy correspondence and mine:and that I might justify my secrecy and uncommunicativeness by her own. 

I proceeded therefore--That I loved familiar-letter-writing, as I hadmore than once told her, above all the species of writing: it was writingfrom the heart, (without the fetters prescribed by method or study, ) asthe very word cor-respondence implied. Not the heart only; the soul wasin it. Nothing of body, when friend writes to friend; the mind impellingsovereignly the vassal-fingers. It was, in short, friendship recorded;friendship given under hand and seal; demonstrating that the parties wereunder no apprehension of changing from time or accident, when they soliberally gave testimonies, which would always be ready, on failure orinfidelity, to be turned against them. --For my own part, it was theprincipal diversion I had in her absence; but for this innocentamusement, the distance she so frequently kept me at would have beenintolerable. 

Sally knew my drift; and said, She had had the honour to see two or threeof my letters, and of Mr. Belford's; and she thought them the mostentertaining that she had ever read. 

My friend Belford, I said, had a happy talent in the letter-writing way;and upon all subjects. 

I expected my beloved would have been inquisitive after our subject: but(lying perdue, as I saw) not a word said she. So I touched upon thisarticle myself. 

Our topics were various and diffuse: sometimes upon literary articles[she was very attentive upon this]; sometimes upon the publicentertainments; sometimes amusing each other with the fruits of thedifferent correspondencies we held with persons abroad, with whom wehad contracted friendships; sometimes upon the foibles and perfectionsof our particular friends; sometimes upon our own present and futurehopes; sometimes aiming at humour and raillery upon each other. --It mightindeed appear to savour of vanity, to suppose my letters would entertaina lady of her delicacy and judgment: but yet I could not but say, thatperhaps she would be far from thinking so hardly of me as sometimes shehad seemed to do, if she were to see the letters which generally passedbetween Mr. Belford and me [I hope, Jack, thou hast more manners, than togive me the lie, though but in thy heart]. 

She then spoke: after declining my compliment in such a manner, as only aperson can do, who deserved it, she said, For her part, she had alwaysthought me a man of sense [a man of sense, Jack! What a niggardlypraise!], --and should therefore hope, that, when I wrote, it exceededeven my speech: for that it was impossible, be the letters written in aseasy and familiar a style as they would, but that they must have thatadvantage from sitting down to write them which prompt speech could notalways have. She should think it very strange therefore, if my letterswere barren of sentiment; and as strange, if I gave myself liberties uponpremeditation, which could have no excuse at all, but from athoughtlessness, which itself wanted excuse. --But if Mr. Belford'sletters and mine were upon subjects so general, and some of them equally(she presumed) instructive and entertaining, she could not but say, thatshe should be glad to see any of them; and particularly those which MissMartin had seen and praised. 

This was put close. 

I looked at her, to see if I could discover any tincture of jealousy inthis hint; that Miss Martin had seen what I had not shown to her. Butshe did not look it: so I only said, I should be very proud to show hernot only those, but all that passed between Mr. Belford and me; but Imust remind her, that she knew the condition. 

No, indeed! with a sweet lip pouted out, as saucy as pretty; implying alovely scorn, that yet can only be lovely in youth so blooming, andbeauty so divinely distinguished. 

How I long to see such a motion again! Her mouth only can give it. 

But I am mad with love--yet eternal will be the distance, at the rate Igo on: now fire, now ice, my soul is continually upon the hiss, as I maysay. In vain, however, is the trial to quench--what, after all, isunquenchable. 

Pr'ythee, Belford, forgive my nonsense, and my Vulcan-like metaphors--DidI not tell thee, not that I am sick of love, but that I am mad with it?Why brought I such an angel into such a house? into such company?--Andwhy do I not stop my ears to the sirens, who, knowing my aversion towedlock, are perpetually touching that string?

I was not willing to be answered so easily: I was sure, that what passedbetween two such young ladies (friends so dear) might be seen by everybody: I had more reason than any body to wish to see the letters thatpassed between her and Miss Howe; because I was sure they must be full ofadmirable instruction, and one of the dear correspondents had deigned towish my entire reformation. 

She looked at me as if she would look me through: I thought I felt eye-beam, after eye-beam, penetrate my shivering reins. --But she was silent. Nor needed her eyes the assistance of speech. 

Nevertheless, a little recovering myself, I hoped that nothing unhappyhad befallen either Miss Howe or her mother. The letter of yesterdaysent by a particular hand: she opening it with great emotion--seeming tohave expected it sooner--were the reasons for my apprehensions. 

We were then at Muswell-hill: a pretty country within the eye, to Polly, was the remark, instead of replying to me. 

But I was not so to be answered--I should expect some charming subjectsand characters from two such pens: I hoped every thing went on wellbetween Mr. Hickman and Miss Howe. Her mother's heart, I said, was setupon that match: Mr. Hickman was not without his merits: he was what theladies called a SOBER man: but I must needs say, that I thought Miss Howedeserved a husband of a very different cast!

This, I supposed, would have engaged her into a subject from which Icould have wiredrawn something:--for Hickman is one of her favourites--why, I can't divine, except for the sake of opposition of character tothat of thy honest friend. 

But she cut me short by a look of disapprobation, and another cool remarkupon a distant view; and, How far off, Miss Horton, do you think thatclump of trees may be? pointing out of the coach. --So I had done. 

Here endeth all I have to write concerning our conversation on this ouragreeable airing. 

We have both been writing ever since we came home. I am to be favouredwith her company for an hour, before she retires to rest. 

All that obsequious love can suggest, in order to engage her tenderestsentiments for me against tomorrow's sickness, will I aim at when wemeet. But at parting will complain of a disorder in my stomach. 

***

We have met. All was love and unexceptionable respect on my part. Easeand complaisance on her's. She was concerned for my disorder. Sosudden!--Just as we parted! But it was nothing. I should be quite wellby the morning. 

Faith, Jack, I think I am sick already. Is it possible for such a giddyfellow as me to persuade myself to be ill! I am a better mimic at thisrate than I wish to be. But every nerve and fibre of me is always readyto contribute its aid, whether by health or by ailment, to carry aresolved-on roguery into execution. 

Dorcas has transcribed for me the whole letter of Miss Howe, datedSunday, May 14, * of which before I had only extracts. She found no otherletter added to that parcel: but this, and that which I copied myself incharacter last Sunday whilst she was at church, relating to the smugglingscheme, ** are enough for me. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter XXIX. ** Ibid. Letter XLII. 

***

Dorcas tells me, that her lady has been removing her papers from themahogany chest into a wainscot box, which held her linen, and which sheput into her dark closet. We have no key of that at present. No doubtbut all her letters, previous to those I have come at, are in that box. Dorcas is uneasy upon it: yet hopes that her lady does not suspect her;for she is sure that she laid in every thing as she found it. 

LETTER II

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. COCOA-TREE, SATURDAY, MAY 27. 

This ipecacuanha is a most disagreeable medicine. That these cursedphysical folks can find out nothing to do us good, but what would poisonthe devil! In the other world, were they only to take physic, it wouldbe punishable enough of itself for a mis-spent life. A doctor at oneelbow, and an apothecary at the other, and the poor soul labouring undertheir prescribed operations, he need no worse tormentors. 

But now this was to take down my countenance. It has done it: for, withviolent reachings, having taken enough to make me sick, and not enoughwater to carry it off, I presently looked as if I had kept my bed afortnight. Ill jesting, as I thought in the midst of the exercise, withedge tools, and worse with physical ones. 

Two hours it held me. I had forbid Dorcas to let her lady know any thingof the matter; out of tenderness to her; being willing, when she knew myprohibition, to let her see that I expected her to be concerned for me. --

Well, but Dorcas was nevertheless a woman, and she can whisper to herlady the secret she is enjoined to keep!

Come hither, toad, [sick as the devil at the instant]; let me see what amixture of grief and surprize may be beat up together in thy puden-face. 

That won't do. That dropt jaw, and mouth distended into the long oval, is more upon the horrible than the grievous. 

Nor that pinking and winking with thy odious eyes, as my charmer oncecalled them. 

A little better that; yet not quite right: but keep your mouth closer. You have a muscle or two which you have no command of, between yourcheek-bone and your lips, that should carry one corner of your mouthup towards your crow's-foot, and that down to meet it. 

There! Begone! Be in a plaguy hurry running up stair and down, to fetchfrom the dining-room what you carry up on purpose to fetch, till motionextraordinary put you out of breath, and give you the sigh natural. 

What's the matter, Dorcas?

Nothing, Madam. 

My beloved wonders she has not seen me this morning, no doubt; but is tooshy to say she wonders. Repeated What's the matter, however, as Dorcasruns up and down stairs by her door, bring on, O Madam! my master! mypoor master!

What! How! When!--and all the monosyllables of surprize. 

[Within parentheses let me tell thee, that I have often thought, that thelittle words in the republic of letters, like the little folks in a nation, are the most significant. The trisyllables, and the rumblers of syllablesmore than three, are but the good-for-little magnates. ]

I must not tell you, Madam--My master ordered me not to tell you--but heis in a worse way than he thinks for!--But he would not have youfrighted. 

High concern took possession of every sweet feature. She pitied me!--bymy soul, she pitied me!

Where is he?

Too much in a hurry for good manners, [another parenthesis, Jack! Goodmanners are so little natural, that we ought to be composed to observethem: politeness will not live in a storm]. I cannot stay to answerquestions, cries the wench--though desirous to answer [a thirdparenthesis--Like the people crying proclamations, running away from thecustomers they want to sell to]. This hurry puts the lady in a hurry toask, [a fourth, by way of establishing the third!] as the other does thepeople in a hurry to buy. And I have in my eye now a whole streetraised, and running after a proclamation or express-crier, as if thefirst was a thief, the other his pursuers. 

At last, O Lord! let Mrs. Lovelace know!--There is danger, to be sure!whispered from one nymph to another; but at the door, and so loud, thatmy listening fair-one might hear. 

Out she darts--As how! as how, Dorcas!

O Madam--A vomiting of blood! A vessel broke, to be sure!

Down she hastens; finds every one as busy over my blood in the entry, as if it were that of the Neapolitan saint. 

In steps my charmer, with a face of sweet concern. 

How do you, Mr. Lovelace?

O my best love!--Very well!--Very well!--Nothing at all! nothing ofconsequence!--I shall be well in an instant!--Straining again! for I wasindeed plaguy sick, though no more blood came. 

In short, Belford, I have gained my end. I see the dear soul loves me. I see she forgives me all that's past. I see I have credit for a newscore. 

Miss Howe, I defy thee, my dear--Mrs. Townsend!--Who the devil are you?--Troop away with your contrabands. No smuggling! nor smuggler, butmyself! Nor will the choicest of my fair-one's favours be longprohibited goods to me!

***

Every one is now sure that she loves me. Tears were in her eyes morethan once for me. She suffered me to take her hand, and kiss it as oftenas I pleased. On Mrs. Sinclair's mentioning, that I too much confinedmyself, she pressed me to take an airing; but obligingly desired me to becareful of myself. Wished I would advise with a physician. God madephysicians, she said. 

I did not think that, Jack. God indeed made us all. But I fancy shemeant physic instead of physicians; and then the phrase might mean whatthe vulgar phrase means;--God sends meat, the Devil cooks. 

I was well already, on taking the styptic from her dear hands. 

On her requiring me to take the air, I asked, If I might have the honourof her company in a coach; and this, that I might observe if she had anintention of going out in my absence. 

If she thought a chair were not a more proper vehicle for my case, shewould with all her heart!

There's a precious!

I kissed her hand again! She was all goodness!--Would to Heaven I betterdeserved it, I said!--But all were golden days before us!--Her presenceand generous concern had done every thing. I was well! Nothing ailedme. But since my beloved will have it so, I'll take a little airing!--Let a chair be called!--O my charmer! were I to have owned thisindisposition to my late harasses, and to the uneasiness I have had fordisobliging you; all is infinitely compensated by your goodness. --All theart of healing is in your smiles!--Your late displeasure was the onlymalady!

While Mrs. Sinclair, and Dorcas, and Polly, and even poor silly Mabell[for Sally went out, as my angel came in] with uplifted hands and eyes, stood thanking Heaven that I was better, in audible whispers: See thepower of love, cried one!--What a charming husband, another!--Happycouple, all!

O how the dear creature's cheek mantled!--How her eyes sparkled!--Howsweetly acceptable is praise to conscious merit, while it but reproacheswhen applied to the undeserving!--What a new, what a gay creation itmakes all at once in a diffident or dispirited heart!

And now, Belford, was it not worth while to be sick? And yet I must tellthee, that too many pleasanter expedients offer themselves, to make trialany more of this confounded ipecacuanha. 

LETTER III

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWESATURDAY, MAY 27. 

Mr. Lovelace, my dear, has been very ill. Suddenly taken. With avomiting of blood in great quantities. Some vessel broken. Hecomplained of a disorder in his stomach over night. I was theaffected with it, as I am afraid it was occasioned by the violentcontentions between us. --But was I in fault?

How lately did I think I hated him!--But hatred and anger, I see, are buttemporary passions with me. One cannot, my dear, hate people in dangerof death, or who are in distress or affliction. My heart, I find, is notproof against kindness, and acknowledgements of errors committed. 

He took great care to have his illness concealed from me as long as hecould. So tender in the violence of his disorder!--So desirous to makethe best of it!--I wish he had not been ill in my sight. I was too muchaffected--every body alarming me with his danger. The poor man, fromsuch high health, so suddenly taken!--and so unprepared!--

He is gone out in a chair. I advised him to do so. I fear that myadvice was wrong; since quiet in such a disorder must needs be best. Weare apt to be so ready, in cases of emergency, to give our advice, without judgment, or waiting for it!--I proposed a physician indeed; buthe would not hear of one. I have great honour for the faculty; and thegreater, as I have always observed that those who treat the professors ofthe art of healing contemptuously, too generally treat higherinstitutions in the same manner. 

I am really very uneasy. For I have, I doubt, exposed myself to him, andto the women below. They indeed will excuse me, as they think usmarried. But if he be not generous, I shall have cause to regret thissurprise; which (as I had reason to think myself unaccountably treated byhim) has taught me more than I knew of myself. 

'Tis true, I have owned more than once, that I could have liked Mr. Lovelace above all men. I remember the debates you and I used to have onthis subject, when I was your happy guest. You used to say, and once youwrote, * that men of his cast are the men that our sex do not naturallydislike: While I held, that such were not (however that might be) the menwe ought to like. But what with my relations precipitating of me, on onehand, and what with his unhappy character, and embarrassing ways, on theother, I had no more leisure than inclination to examine my own heart inthis particular. And this reminds me of a transcribe, though it waswritten in raillery. 'May it not be, ' say you, ** 'that you have had suchpersons to deal with, as have not allowed you to attend to the throbs; orif you had them a little now-and-then, whether, having had two accountsto place them to, you have not by mistake put them to the wrong one?' Apassage, which, although it came into my mind when Mr. Lovelace was leastexceptionable, yet that I have denied any efficacy to, when he has teasedand vexed me, and given me cause of suspicion. For, after all, my dear, Mr. Lovelace is not wise in all his ways. And should we not endeavour, as much as is possible, (where we are not attached by natural ties, ) tolike and dislike as reason bids us, and according to the merit or demeritof the object? If love, as it is called, is allowed to be an excuse forour most unreasonable follies, and to lay level all the fences that acareful education has surrounded us by, what is meant by the doctrine ofsubduing our passions?--But, O my dearest friend, am I not guilty of apunishable fault, were I to love this man of errors? And has not my ownheart deceived me, when I thought I did not? And what must be that love, that has not some degree of purity for its object? I am afraid ofrecollecting some passages in my cousin Morden's letter. ***--And yet whyfly I from subjects that, duly considered, might tend to correct andpurify my heart? I have carried, I doubt, my notions on this head toohigh, not for practice, but for my practice. Yet think me not guilty ofprudery neither; for had I found out as much of myself before; or, rather, had he given me heart's ease enough before to find it out, youshould have had my confession sooner. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter XXXIV. ** See Vol. I. Letter XII. *** See Vol. IV. Letter XIX, & seq. 

Nevertheless, let me tell you (what I hope I may justly tell you, ) thatif again he give me cause to resume distance and reserve, I hope myreason will gather strength enough from his imperfections to enable me tokeep my passions under. --What can we do more than govern ourselves by thetemporary lights lent us?

You will not wonder that I am grave on this detection--Detection, must Icall it? What can I call it?--

Dissatisfied with myself, I am afraid to look back upon what I havewritten: yet know not how to have done writing. I never was in such anodd frame of mind. --I know not how to describe it. --Was you ever so?--Afraid of the censure of her you love--yet not conscious that you deserveit?

Of this, however, I am convinced, that I should indeed deserve censure, if I kept any secret of my heart from you. 

But I will not add another word, after I have assured you, that I willlook still more narrowly into myself: and that I am

Your equally sincere and affectionateCL. HARLOWE. 

LETTER IV

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SAT. EVENING. 

I had a charming airing. No return of my malady. My heart was perfectlyeasy, how could my stomach be otherwise?

But when I came home, I found that my sweet soul had been alarmed by anew incident--The inquiry after us both, in a very suspicious manner, andthat by description of our persons, and not by names, by a servant in ablue livery turn'd up and trimm'd with yellow. 

Dorcas was called to him, as the upper servant; and she refusing toanswer any of the fellow's questions, unless he told his business, andfrom whom he came, the fellow (as short as she) said, that if she wouldnot answer him, perhaps she might answer somebody else; and went away outof humour. 

Dorcas hurried up to her Lady, and alarmed her, not only with the fact, but with her own conjectures; adding, that he was an ill-looking fellow, and she was sure could come for no good. 

The livery and the features of the servant were particularly inquiredafter, and as particularly described--Lord bless her! no end of heralarms, she thought! And then did her apprehensions anticipate everyevil that could happen. 

She wished Mr. Lovelace would come in. 

Mr. Lovelace came in soon after; all lively, grateful, full of hopes, ofduty, of love, to thank his charmer, and to congratulate with her uponthe cure she had performed. And then she told the story, with all itscircumstances; and Dorcas, to point her lady's fears, told us, that theservant was a sun-burnt fellow, and looked as if he had been at sea. 

He was then, no doubt, Captain Singleton's servant, and the next news sheshould hear, was, that the house was surrounded by a whole ship's crew;the vessel lying no farther off, as she understood, than Rotherhithe. 

Impossible, I said. Such an attempt would not be ushered in by such amanner of inquiry. And why may it not rather be a servant of your cousinMorden, with notice of his arrival, and of his design to attend you?

This surmise delighted her. Her apprehensions went off, and she was atleisure to congratulate me upon my sudden recovery; which she did in themost obliging manner. 

But we had not sat long together, when Dorcas again came fluttering up totell us, that the footman, the very footman, was again at the door, andinquired, whether Mr. Lovelace and his lady, by name, had not lodgings inthis house? He asked, he told Dorcas, for no harm. But his disavowingof harm, was a demonstration with my apprehensive fair-one, that harm wasintended. And as the fellow had not been answered by Dorcas, I proposedto go down to the street-parlour, and hear what he had to say. 

I see your causeless terror, my dearest life, said I, and your impatience--Will you be pleased to walk down--and, without being observed, (for heshall come no farther than the parlour-door, ) you may hear all thatpasses?

She consented. We went down. Dorcas bid the man come forward. Well, friend, what is your business with Mr. And Mrs. Lovelace?

Bowing, scraping, I am sure you are the gentleman, Sir. Why, Sir, mybusiness is only to know if your honour be here, and to be spoken with;or if you shall be here for any time?

Whom came you from?

From a gentleman who ordered me to say, if I was made to tell, but notelse, it was from a friend of Mr. John Harlowe, Mrs. Lovelace's eldestuncle. 

The dear creature was ready to sink upon this. It was but of late thatshe had provided herself with salts. She pulled them out. 

Do you know anything of Colonel Morden, friend? said I. 

No; I never heard of his name. 

Of Captain Singleton?

No, Sir. But the gentleman, my master, is a Captain too. 

What is his name?

I don't know if I should tell. 

There can be no harm in telling the gentleman's name, if you come upona good account. 

That I do; for my master told me so; and there is not an honestergentleman on the face of God's yearth. --His name is Captain Tomlinson, Sir. 

I don't know such a one. 

I believe not, Sir. He was pleased to say, he don't know your honor, Sir; but I heard him say as how he should not be an unwelcome visiter toyou for all that. 

Do you know such a man as Captain Tomlinson, my dearest life, [aside, ]your uncle's friend?

No; but my uncle may have acquaintance, no doubt, that I don't know. --But I hope [trembling] this is not a trick. 

Well, friend, if your master has anything to say to Mr. Lovelace, you maytell him, that Mr. Lovelace is here; and will see him whenever hepleases. 

The dear creature looked as if afraid that my engagement was too promptfor my own safety; and away went the fellow--I wondering, that she mightnot wonder, that this Captain Tomlinson, whoever he were, came nothimself, or sent not a letter the second time, when he had reason tosuppose that I might be here. 

Mean time, for fear that this should be a contrivance of James Harlowe, who, I said, love plotting, though he had not a head turned for it, Igave some precautionary directions to the servants, and the women, whom, for the greater parade, I assembled before us, and my beloved wasresolved not to stir abroad till she saw the issue of this odd affair. 

And here must I close, though in so great a puzzle. 

Only let me add, that poor Belton wants thee; for I dare not stir for mylife. 

Mowbray and Tourville skulk about like vagabonds, without heads, withouthands, without souls; having neither you nor me to conduct them. Theytell me, they shall rust beyond the power of oil or action to brightenthem up, or give them motion. 

How goes it with thy uncle?

LETTER V

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY, MAY 28. 

This story of Captain Tomlinson employed us not only for the time we weretogether last night, but all the while we sat at breakfast this morning. She would still have it that it was the prelude to some mischief fromSingleton. I insisted (according to my former hint) that it might muchmore probably be a method taken by Colonel Morden to alarm her, previousto a personal visit. Travelled gentlemen affected to surprise in thismanner. And why, dearest creature, said I, must every thing thathappens, which we cannot immediately account for, be what we least wish?

She had had so many disagreeable things befall her of late, that herfears were too often stronger than her hopes. 

And this, Madam, makes me apprehensive, that you will get into so low-spirited a way, that you will not be able to enjoy the happiness thatseems to await us. 

Her duty and her gratitude, she gravely said, to the Dispenser of allgood, would secure her, she hoped, against unthankfulness. And athankful spirit was the same as a joyful one. 

So, Belford, for all her future joys she depends entirely upon theinvisible Good. She is certainly right; since those who fix least uponsecond causes are the least likely to be disappointed--And is not thisgravity for her gravity?

She had hardly done speaking, when Dorcas came running up in a hurry--she set even my heart into a palpitation--thump, thump, thump, like aprecipitated pendulum in a clock-case--flutter, flutter, flutter, mycharmer's, as by her sweet bosom rising to her chin I saw. 

This lower class of people, my beloved herself observed, were for everaiming at the stupid wonderful, and for making even common incidentsmatter of surprise. 

Why the devil, said I to the wench, this alarming hurry?--And with yourspread fingers, and your O Madams, and O Sirs!--and be cursed to you!Would there have been a second of time difference, had you come upslowly?

Captain Tomlinson, Sir!

Captain Devilson, what care I?--Do you see how you have disordered yourlady?

Good Mr. Lovelace, said my charmer, trembling [see, Jack, when she has anend to serve, I am good Mr. Lovelace, ] if--if my brother, --if CaptainSingleton should appear--pray now--I beseech you--let me beg of you--togovern your temper--My brother is my brother--Captain Singleton is but anagent. 

My dearest life, folding my arms about her, [when she asks favours, thought I, the devil's in it, if she will not allow such an innocentfreedom as this, from good Mr. Lovelace too, ] you shall be witness of allpasses between us. --Dorcas, desire the gentleman to walk up. 

Let me retire to my chamber first!--Let me not be known to be in thehouse!

Charming dear!--Thou seest, Belford, she is afraid of leaving me!--O thelittle witchcrafts! Were it not for surprises now-and-then, how would anhonest man know where to have them?

She withdrew to listen. --And though this incident has not turned out toanswer all I wished from it, yet is it not necessary, if I would acquaintthee with my whole circulation, to be very particular in what passedbetween Captain Tomlinson and me. 

Enter Captain Tomlinson, in a riding-dress, whip in hand. 

Your servant, Sir, --Mr. Lovelace, I presume?

My name is Lovelace, Sir. 

Excuse the day, Sir. --Be pleased to excuse my garb. I am obliged to goout of town directly, that I may return at night. 

The day is a good day. Your garb needs no apology. 

When I sent my servant, I did not know that I should find time to domyself this honour. All that I thought I could do to oblige my friendthis journey, was only to assure myself of your abode; and whether therewas a probability of being admitted to the speech of either you, or yourlady. 

Sir, you best know your own motives. What your time will permit you to do, you also best know. And here I am, attending your pleasure. 

My charmer owned afterwards her concern on my being so short. WhateverI shall mingle of her emotions, thou wilt easily guess I had afterwards. 

Sir, I hope no offence. I intend none. 

None--None at all, Sir. 

Sir, I have no interest in the affair I come about. I may appearofficious; and if I thought I should, I would decline any concern in it, after I have just hinted what it is. 

And pray, Sir, what is it?

May I ask you, Sir, without offence, whether you wish to be reconciled, and to co-operate upon honourable terms, with one gentleman of the nameof Harlowe; preparative, as it may be hoped, to a general reconciliation?

O how my heart fluttered! cried my charmer. 

I can't tell, Sir--[and then it fluttered still more, no doubt:] Thewhole family have used me extremely ill. They have taken greaterliberties with my character than are justifiable; and with my family too;which I can less forgive. 

Sir, Sir, I have done. I beg pardon for this intrusion. 

My beloved was then ready to sink, and thought very hardly of me. 

But, pray, Sir, to the immediate purpose of your present commission;since a commission it seems to be?

It is a commission, Sir; and such a one, as I thought would be agreeableto all parties, or I should not have given myself concern about it. 

Perhaps it may, Sir, when known. But let me ask you one previousquestion--Do you know Colonel Morden, Sir?

No, Sir. If you mean personally, I do not. But I have heard my goodfriend Mr. John Harlowe talk of him with great respect; and such aco-trustee with him in a certain trust. 

Lovel. I thought it probable, Sir, that the Colonel might be arrived;that you might be a gentleman of his acquaintance; and that something ofan agreeable surprise might be intended. 

Capt. Had Colonel Morden been in England, Mr. John Harlowe would haveknown it; and then I should not have been a stranger to it. 

Lovel. Well but, Sir, have you then any commission to me from Mr. JohnHarlowe?

Capt. Sir, I will tell you, as briefly as I can, the whole of what Ihave to say; but you'll excuse me also in a previous question, for whatcuriosity is not my motive; but it is necessary to be answered before Ican proceed; as you will judge when you hear it. 

Lovel. What, pray, Sir, is your question?

Capt. Briefly, whether you are actually, and bon� fide, married to MissClarissa Harlowe?

I started, and, in a haughty tone, is this, Sir, a question that must beanswered before you can proceed in the business you have undertaken?

I mean no offence, Mr. Lovelace. Mr. Harlowe sought to me to undertakethis office. I have daughters and nieces of my own. I thought it a goodoffice, or I, who have many considerable affairs upon my hands, had notaccepted of it. I know the world; and will take the liberty to say, thatif the young lady--

Captain Tomlinson, I think you are called?

My name is Tomlinson. 

Why then, Tomlinson, no liberty, as you call it, will be taken well, thatis not extremely delicate, when that lady is mentioned. 

When you had heard me out, Mr. Lovelace, and had found I had so behaved, as to make the caution necessary, it would have been just to have givenit. --Allow me to say, I know what is due to the character of a woman ofvirtue, as well as any man alive. 

Why, Sir! Why, Captain Tomlinson, you seem warm. If you intend anything by this, [O how I trembled! said the lady, when she took notice ofthis part of our conversation afterwards, ] I will only say, that this isa privileged place. It is at present my home, and an asylum for anygentleman who thinks it worth his while to inquire after me, be themanner or end of his inquiry what it will. 

I know not, Sir, that I have given occasion for this. I make no scrupleto attend you elsewhere, if I am troublesome here. I was told, I had awarm young gentleman to deal with: but as I knew my intention, and thatmy commission was an amicable one, I was the less concerned about that. I am twice your age, Mr. Lovelace, I dare say: but I do assure you, thatif either my message or my manner gives you offence, I can suspend theone or the other for a day, or for ever, as you like. And so, Sir, anytime before eight tomorrow morning, you will let me know your furthercommands. --And was going to tell me where he might be found. 

Captain Tomlinson, said I, you answer well. I love a man of spirit. Have you not been in the army?

I have, Sir; but have turned my sword into a ploughshare, as thescripture has it, --[there was a clever fellow, Jack!--he was a good manwith somebody, I warrant! O what a fine coat and cloke for an hypocritewill a text of scripture, properly applied, make at any time in the eyesof the pious!--how easily are the good folks taken in!]--and all mydelight, added he, for some years past, has been in cultivating mypaternal estate. I love a brave man, Mr. Lovelace, as well as ever I didin my life. But let me tell you, Sir, that when you come to my time oflife, you will be of opinion, that there is not so much true bravery inyouthful choler, as you may now think there is. 

A clever fellow again, Belford!--Ear and heart, both at once, he took inmy charmer!--'Tis well, she says, there are some men who have wisdom intheir anger. 

Well, Captain, that is reproof for reproof. So we are upon a footing. And now give me the pleasure of hearing the import of your commission. 

Sir, you must first allow me to repeat my question: Are you really, andbon� fide, married to Miss Clarissa Harlowe? or are you not yet married?

Bluntly put, Captain. But if I answer that I am, what then?

Why then, Sir, I shall say, that you are a man of honour. 

That I hope I am, whether you say it or not, Captain Tomlinson. 

Sir, I will be very frank in all I have to say on this subject--Mr. JohnHarlowe has lately found out, that you and his niece are both in the samelodgings; that you have been long so; and that the lady was at the playwith you yesterday was se'nnight; and he hopes that you are actuallymarried. He has indeed heard that you are; but as he knows yourenterprising temper, and that you have declared, that you disdain arelation to their family, he is willing by me to have your marriageconfirmed from your own mouth, before he take the steps he is inclined totake in his niece's favour. You will allow me to say, Mr. Lovelace, thathe will not be satisfied with an answer that admits of the least doubt. 

Let me tell you, Captain Tomlinson, that it is a high degree of vilenessfor any man to suppose--

Sir--Mr. Lovelace--don't put yourself into a passion. The lady'srelations are jealous of the honour of their family. They haveprejudices to overcome as well as you--advantage may have been taken--andthe lady, at the time, not to blame. 

This lady, Sir, could give no such advantages: and if she had, what mustthe man be, Captain Tomlinson, who could have taken them?--Do you knowthe lady, Sir?

I never had the honour to see her but once; and that was at a church; andshould not know her again. 

Not know her again, Sir!--I thought there was not a man living who hadonce seen her, and would not know her among a thousand. 

I remember, Sir, that I thought I never saw a finer woman in my life. But, Mr. Lovelace, I believe, you will allow, that it is better that herrelations should have wronged you, than you the lady, I hope, Sir, youwill permit me to repeat my question. 

Enter Dorcas, in a hurry. 

A gentleman, this minute, Sir, desires to speak with your honour--[Mylady, Sir!--Aside. ]

Could the dear creature put Dorcas upon telling this fib, yet want tosave me one?

Desire the gentleman to walk into one of the parlours. I will wait uponhim presently. 

[Exit Dorcas. 

The dear creature, I doubted not, wanted to instruct me how to answerthe Captain's home put. I knew how I intended to answer it--plumb, thoumay'st be sure--but Dorcas's message staggered me. And yet I was uponone of my master-strokes--which was, to take advantage of the captain'sinquiries, and to make her own her marriage before him, as she had doneto the people below; and if she had been brought to that, to induce her, for her uncle's satisfaction, to write him a letter of gratitude; whichof course must have been signed Clarissa Lovelace. I was loth, therefore, thou may'st believe, to attend her sudden commands: and yet, afraid of pushing matters beyond recovery with her, I thought proper tolead him from the question, to account for himself and for Mr. Harlowe'scoming to the knowledge of where we are; and for other particulars whichI knew would engage her attention; and which might possibly convince herof the necessity there was for her to acquiesce in the affirmative I wasdisposed to give. And this for her own sake; For what, as I asked herafterwards, is it to me, whether I am ever reconciled to her family?--Afamily, Jack, which I must for ever despise. 

You think, Captain, that I have answered doubtfully to the question youput. You may think so. And you must know, that I have a good deal ofpride; and, only that you are a gentleman, and seem in this affair to begoverned by generous motives, or I should ill brook being interrogated asto my honour to a lady so dear to me. --But before I answer more directlyto the point, pray satisfy me in a question or two that I shall put toyou. 

With all my heart, Sir. Ask me what questions you please, I will answerthem with sincerity and candour. 

You say, Mr. Harlowe has found out that we were at a play together: andthat we were both in the same lodgings--How, pray, came he at hisknowledge?--for, let me tell you, that I have, for certainconsiderations, (not respecting myself, I will assure you, ) condescendedthat our abode should be kept secret. And this has been so strictlyobserved, that even Miss Howe, though she and my beloved correspond, knowsnot directly where to send to us. 

Why, Sir, the person who saw you at the play, was a tenant of Mr. JohnHarlowe. He watched all your motions. When the play was done, hefollowed your coach to your lodgings. And early the next day, Sunday, he took horse, and acquainted his landlord with what he had observed. 

Lovel. How oddly things come about!--But does any other of the Harlowesknow where we are?

Capt. It is an absolute secret to every other person of the family; andso it is intended to be kept: as also that Mr. John Harlowe is willing toenter into treaty with you, by me, if his niece be actually married; forperhaps he is aware, that he shall have difficulty enough with somepeople to bring about the desirable reconciliation, although he couldgive them this assurance. 

I doubt it not, Captain--to James Harlowe is all the family folly owing. Fine fools! [heroically stalking about] to be governed by one to whommalice and not genius, gives the busy liveliness that distinguishes himfrom a natural!--But how long, pray, Sir, has Mr. John Harlowe been inthis pacific disposition?

I will tell you, Mr. Lovelace, and the occasion; and be very explicitupon it, and upon all that concerns you to know of me, and of thecommission I have undertaken to execute; and this the rather, as whenyou have heard me out, you will be satisfied, that I am not an officiousman in this my present address to you. 

I am all attention, Captain Tomlinson. 

And so I doubt not was my beloved. 

Capt. 'You must know, Sir, that I have not been many months in Mr. JohnHarlwe's neighbourhood. I removed from Northamptonshire, partly for thesake of better managing one of two executorship, which I could not avoidengaging in, (the affairs of which frequently call me to town, and arepart of my present business;) and partly for the sake of occupying aneglected farm, which has lately fallen into my hands. But though anacquaintance of no longer standing, and that commencing on the bowling-green, [uncle John is a great bowler, Belford, ] (upon my decision of apoint to every one's satisfaction, which was appealed to me by all thegentlemen, and which might have been attended with bad consequences, ) notwo brothers have a more cordial esteem for each other. You know, Mr. Lovelace, that there is a consent, as I may call it, in some minds, whichwill unite them stronger together in a few hours, than years can do withothers, whom yet we see not with disgust. '

Lovel. Very true, Captain. 

Capt. 'It was on the foot of this avowed friendship on both sides, thaton Monday the 15th, as I very well remember, Mr. Harlowe invited himselfhome with me. And when there, he acquainted me with the whole of theunhappy affair that had made them all so uneasy. Till then I knew itonly by report; for, intimate as we were, I forbore to speak of what wasso near his heart, till he began first. And then he told me, that he hadhad an application made to him, two or three days before, by a gentlemanwhom he named, * to induce him not only to be reconciled himself to hisniece, but to forward for her a general reconciliation. 

* See Vol. IV. Letters XXIII and XXIX. 

'A like application, he told me, had been made to his sister Harlowe, bya good woman, whom every body respected; who had intimated, that hisniece, if encouraged, would again put herself into the protection of herfriends, and leave you: but if not, that she must unavoidably be your's. '

I hope, Mr. Lovelace, I make no mischief. --You look concerned--you sigh, Sir. 

Proceed, Captain Tomlinson. Pray proceed. --And I sighed still moreprofoundly. 

Capt. 'They all thought it extremely particular, that a lady shoulddecline marriage with a man she had so lately gone away with. '

Pray, Captain--pray, Mr. Tomlinson--no more of this subject. My belovedis an angel. In every thing unblamable. Whatever faults there havebeen, have been theirs and mine. What you would further say, is, thatthe unforgiving family rejected her application. They did. She and Ihad a misunderstanding. The falling out of lovers--you know, Captain. --We have been happier ever since. 

Capt. 'Well, Sir; but Mr. John Harlowe could not but better considerthe matter afterwards. And he desired my advice how to act in it. Hetold me that no father ever loved a daughter as he loved this niece ofhis; whom, indeed, he used to call his daughter-niece. He said, she hadreally been unkindly treated by her brother and sister: and as youralliance, Sir, was far from being a discredit to their family, he woulddo his endeavour to reconcile all parties, if he could be sure that yewere actually man and wife. '

Lovel. And what, pray, Captain, was your advice?

Capt. 'I gave it as my opinion, that if his niece were unworthilytreated, and in distress, (as he apprehended from the application tohim, ) he would soon hear of her again: but that it was likely, that thisapplication was made without expecting it would succeed; and as a salvoonly, to herself, for marrying without their consent. And the ratherthought I so, as he had told me, that it came from a young lady herfriend, and not in a direct way from herself; which young lady was nofavourite of the family; and therefore would hardly have been employed, had success been expected. '

Lovel. Very well, Captain Tomlinson--pray proceed. 

Capt. 'Here the matter rested till last Sunday evening, when Mr. JohnHarlowe came to me with the man who had seen you and your lady (as Ipresume she is) at the play; and who had assured him, that you bothlodged in the same house. --And then the application having been so latelymade, which implied that you were not then married, he was so uneasy forhis niece's honour, that I advised him to dispatch to town some one inwhom he could confide, to make proper inquiries. '

Lovel. Very well, Captain--And was such a person employed on such anerrand by her uncle?

Capt. 'A trusty and discreet person was accordingly sent; and lastTuesday, I think it was, (for he returned to us on the Wednesday, ) hemade the inquiries among the neighbours first. ' [The very inquiry, Jack, that gave us all so much uneasiness. *] 'But finding that none of themcould give any satisfactory account, the lady's woman was come at, whodeclared, that you were actually married. But the inquirist keepinghimself on the reserve as to his employers, the girl refused to tell theday, or to give him other particulars. '

* See Vol. IV. Letter L. 

Lovel. You give a very clear account of every thing, Captain Tomlinson. Pray proceed. 

Capt. 'The gentleman returned; and, on his report, Mr. Harlowe, havingstill doubts, and being willing to proceed on some grounds in soimportant a point, besought me (as my affairs called me frequently totown) to undertake this matter. "You, Mr. Tomlinson, he was pleased tosay, have children of your own: you know the world: you know what I driveat: you will proceed, I am sure, with understanding and spirit: andwhatever you are satisfied with shall satisfy me. "'

Enter Dorcas again in a hurry. 

Sir, the gentleman is impatient. 

I will attend him presently. 

The Captain then accounted for his not calling in person, when he hadreason to think us here. 

He said he had business of consequence a few miles out of town, whitherhe thought he must have gone yesterday, and having been obliged to putoff his little journey till this day, and understanding that we werewithin, not knowing whether he should have such another opportunity, hewas willing to try his good fortune before he set out; and this made himcome booted and spurred, as I saw him. 

He dropped a hint in commendation of the people of the house; but it wasin such a way, as to give no room to suspect that he thought it necessaryto inquire after the character of persons, who make so genteel anappearance, as he observed they do. 

And here let me remark, that my beloved might collect anothercircumstance in favour of the people below, had she doubted theircharacters, from the silence of her uncle's inquirist on Tuesday amongthe neighbours. 

Capt. 'And now, Sir, that I believe I have satisfied you in every thingrelating to my commission, I hope you will permit me to repeat myquestion--which is--'

Enter Dorcas again, out of breath. 

Sir, the gentleman will step up to you. [My lady is impatient. Shewonders at your honour's delay. Aside. ]

Excuse me, Captain, for one moment. 

I have staid my full time, Mr. Lovelace. What may result from myquestion and your answer, whatever it shall be, may take us up time. --And you are engaged. Will you permit me to attend you in the morning, before I set out on my return?

You will then breakfast with me, Captain?

It must be early if I do. I must reach my own house to-morrow night, orI shall make the best of wives unhappy. And I have two or three placesto call at in my way. 

It shall be by seven o'clock, if you please, Captain. We are earlyfolks. And this I will tell you, that if ever I am reconciled to afamily so implacable as I have always found the Harlowes to be, it mustbe by the mediation of so cool and so moderate a gentleman as yourself. 

And so, with the highest civilities on both sides, we parted. But forthe private satisfaction of so good a man, I left him out of doubt thatwe were man and wife, though I did not directly aver it. 

LETTER VI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY NIGHT. 

This Captain Tomlinson is one of the happiest as well as one of the bestmen in the world. What would I give to stand as high in my beloved'sopinion as he does! but yet I am as good a man as he, were I to tell myown story, and have equal credit given to it. But the devil should havehad him before I had seen him on the account he came upon, had I thoughtI should not have answered my principal end in it. I hinted to thee inmy last what that was. 

But to the particulars of the conference between my fair-one and me, onher hasty messages; which I was loth to come to, because she has had anhalf triumph over me in it. 

After I had attended the Captain down to the very passage, I returned tothe dining-room, and put on a joyful air, on my beloved's entrance intoit--O my dearest creature, said I, let me congratulate you on a prospectso agreeable to your wishes! And I snatched her hand, and smothered itwith kisses. 

I was going on; when interrupting me, You see, Mr. Lovelace, said she, how you have embarrassed yourself by your obliquities! You see, that youhave not been able to return a direct answer to a plain and honestquestion, though upon it depends all the happiness, on the prospect ofwhich you congratulate me!

You know, my best love, what my prudent, and I will say, my kind motiveswere, for giving out that we were married. You see that I have taken noadvantage of it; and that no inconvenience has followed it. You see thatyour uncle wants only to be assured from ourselves that it is so--

Not another word on this subject, Mr. Lovelace. I will not only risk, but I will forfeit, the reconciliation so near my heart, rather than Iwill go on to countenance a story so untrue!

My dearest soul--Would you have me appear--

I would have you appear, Sir, as you are! I am resolved that I willappear to my uncle's friend, and to my uncle, as I am. 

For one week, my dearest life! cannot you for one week--only till thesettlements--

Not for one hour, with my own consent. You don't know, Sir, how much Ihave been afflicted, that I have appeared to the people below what I amnot. But my uncle, Sir, shall never have it to upbraid me, nor will I toupbraid myself, that I have wilfully passed upon him in false lights. 

What, my dear, would you have me say to the Captain to-morrow morning? Ihave given him room to think--

Then put him right, Mr. Lovelace. Tell the truth. Tell him what youplease of the favour of your relations to me: tell him what you willabout the settlements: and if, when drawn, you will submit them to hisperusal and approbation, it will show him how much you are in earnest. 

My dearest life!--Do you think that he would disapprove of the terms Ihave offered?

No. 

Then may I be accursed, if I willingly submit to be trampled under footby my enemies!

And may I, Mr. Lovelace, never be unhappy in this life, if I submit tothe passing upon my uncle Harlowe a wilful and premeditated falshood fortruth! I have too long laboured under the affliction which the rejectionof all my friends has given me, to purchase my reconciliation with themnow at so dear a price as this of my veracity. 

The women below, my dear--

What are the women below to me?--I want not to establish myself withthem. Need they know all that passes between my relations and you andme?

Neither are they any thing to me, Madam. Only, that when, for the sakeof preventing the fatal mischiefs which might have attended yourbrother's projects, I have made them think us married, I would not appearto them in a light which you yourself think so shocking. By my soul, Madam, I had rather die, than contradict myself so flagrantly, after Ihave related to them so many circumstances of our marriage. 

Well, Sir, the women may believe what they please. That I have givencountenance to what you told them is my error. The many circumstanceswhich you own one untruth has drawn you in to relate, is a justificationof my refusal in the present case. 

Don't you see, Madam, that your uncle wishes to find that we are married?May not the ceremony be privately over, before his mediation can takeplace?

Urge this point no further, Mr. Lovelace. If you will not tell thetruth, I will to-morrow morning (if I see Captain Tomlinson) tell itmyself. Indeed I will. 

Will you, Madam, consent that things pass as before with the peoplebelow? This mediation of Tomlinson may come to nothing. Your brother'sschemes may be pursued; the rather, that now he will know (perhaps fromyour uncle) that you are not under a legal protection. --You will, atleast, consent that things pass here as before?--

To permit this, is to go on in an error, Mr. Lovelace. But as theoccasion for so doing (if there can be in your opinion an occasion thatwill warrant an untruth) will, as I presume, soon be over, I shall theless dispute that point with you. But a new error I will not be guiltyof, if I can avoid it. 

Can I, do you think, Madam, have any dishonourable view in the step Isupposed you would not scruple to take towards a reconciliation with yourown family? Not for my own sake, you know, did I wish you to take it;for what is it to me, if I am never reconciled to your family? I want nofavours from them. 

I hope, Mr. Lovelace, there is no occasion, in our present notdisagreeable situation, to answer such a question. And let me say, thatI shall think my prospects still more agreeable, if, to-morrow morningyou will not only own the very truth, but give my uncle's friend such anaccount of the steps you have taken, and are taking, as may keep up myuncle's favourable intentions towards me. This you may do under whatrestrictions of secrecy you please. Captain Tomlinson is a prudent man;a promoter of family-peace, you find; and, I dare say, may be made afriend. 

I saw there was no help. I saw that the inflexible Harlowe spirit wasall up in her. --A little witch!--A little--Forgive me, Love, for callingher names! And so I said, with an air, We have had too manymisunderstandings, Madam, for me to wish for new ones: I will obey youwithout reserve. Had I not thought I should have obliged you by theother method, (especially as the ceremony might have been over before anything could have operated from your uncle's intentions, and ofconsequence no untruth persisted in, ) I would not have proposed it. Butthink not, my beloved creature, that you shall enjoy, without condition, this triumph over my judgment. 

And then, clasping my arms about her, I gave her averted cheek (hercharming lip designed) a fervent kiss. --And your forgiveness of thissweet freedom [bowing] is that condition. 

She was not mortally offended. And now must I make out the rest as wellas I can. But this I will tell thee, that although her triumph has notdiminished my love for her, yet it has stimulated me more than ever torevenge, as thou wilt be apt to call it. But victory, or conquest, isthe more proper word. 

There is a pleasure, 'tis true, in subduing one of these watchfulbeauties. But by my soul, Belford, men of our cast take twenty times thepains to be rogues than it would cost them to be honest; and dearly, withthe sweat of our brows, and to the puzzlement of our brains, (to saynothing of the hazards he run, ) do we earn our purchase; and ought nottherefore to be grudged our success when we meet with it--especially as, when we have obtained our end, satiety soon follows; and leaves us littleor nothing to show for it. But this, indeed, may be said of all worldlydelights. --And is not that a grave reflection from me?

I was willing to write up to the time. Although I have not carried myprincipal point, I shall make something turn out if my favour fromCaptain Tomlinson's errand. But let me give thee this caution; that thoudo not pretend to judge of my devices by parts; but have patience tillthou seest the whole. But once more I swear, that I will not beout-Norris'd by a pair of novices. And yet I am very apprehensive, attimes, of the consequences of Miss Howe's smuggling scheme. 

My conscience, I should think, ought not to reproach me for acontrivance, which is justified by the contrivances of two such girls asthese: one of whom (the more excellent of the two) I have always, withher own approbation, as I imagine, proposed for my imitation. 

But here, Jack, is the thing that concludes me, and cases my heart withadamant: I find, by Miss Howe's letters, that it is owing to her, that Ihave made no greater progress with my blooming fair-one. She loves me. The ipecacuanha contrivance convinces me that she loves me. Where thereis love there must be confidence, or a desire of having reason toconfide. Generosity, founded on my supposed generosity, has taken holdof her heart. Shall I not now see (since I must forever be unhappy, if Imarry her, and leave any trial unessayed) what I can make of her love, and her newly-raised confidence?--Will it not be to my glory to succeed?And to her's and to the honour of her sex, if I cannot?--Where then willbe the hurt to either, to make the trial? And cannot I, as I have oftensaid, reward her when I will by marriage?

'Tis late, or rather early; for the day begins to dawn upon me. I amplaguy heavy. Perhaps I need not to have told thee that. But will onlyindulge a doze in my chair for an hour; then shake myself, wash andrefresh. At my time of life, with such a constitution as I am blessedwith, that's all that's wanted. 

Good night to me!--It cannot be broad day till I amawake. --Aw-w-w-whaugh--pox of this yawning!

Is not thy uncle dead yet?

What's come to mine, that he writes not to my last?--Hunting after morewisdom of nations, I suppose!--Yaw-yaw-yawning again!--Pen, begone!

LETTER VII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, MAY 29. 

Now have I established myself for ever in my charmer's heart. 

The Captain came at seven, as promised, and ready equipped for hisjourney. My beloved chose not to give us her company till our firstconversation was over--ashamed, I suppose, to be present at that part ofit which was to restore her to her virgin state by my confession, afterher wifehood had been reported to her uncle. But she took her cue, nevertheless, and listened to all that passed. 

The modestest women, Jack, must think, and think deeply sometimes. Iwonder whether they ever blush at those things by themselves, at whichthey have so charming a knack of blushing in company. If not; and ifblushing be a sign of grace or modesty; have not the sex as great acommand over their blushes as they are said to have over their tears?This reflection would lead me a great way into female minds, were Idisposed to pursue it. 

I told the Captain, that I would prevent his question; and accordingly(after I had enjoined the strictest secrecy, that no advantage might begiven to James Harlowe, and which he had answered for as well on Mr. Harlowe's part as his own) I acknowledged nakedly and fairly the wholetruth--to wit, 'That we were not yet married. I gave him hints of thecauses of procrastination. Some of them owing to unhappymisunderstandings: but chiefly to the Lady's desire of previousreconciliation with her friends; and to a delicacy that had no example. '

Less nice ladies than this, Jack, love to have delays, wilful and studieddelays, imputed to them in these cases--yet are indelicate in theiraffected delicacy: For do they not thereby tacitly confess, that theyexpect to be the greatest estgainers in wedlock; and that there isself-denial in the pride they take in delaying?

'I told him the reason of our passing to the people below as married--yetas under a vow of restriction, as to consummation, which had kept us bothto the height, one of forbearing, the other of vigilant punctilio; evento the denial of those innocent freedoms, which betrothed lovers neverscruple to allow and to take. 

'I then communicated to him a copy of my proposal of settlement; thesubstance of her written answer; the contents of my letter of invitationto Lord M. To be her nuptial-father; and of my Lord's generous reply. But said, that having apprehensions of delay from his infirmities, and mybeloved choosing by all means (and that from principles of unrequitedduty) a private solemnization, I had written to excuse his Lordship'spresence; and expected an answer every hour. 

'The settlements, I told him, were actually drawing by CounsellorWilliams, of whose eminence he must have heard--'

He had. 

'And of the truth of this he might satisfy himself before he went out oftown. 

'When these were drawn, approved, and engrossed, nothing, I said, butsigning, and the nomination of my happy day, would be wanting. I had apride, I declared, in doing the highest justice to so beloved a creature, of my own voluntary motion, and without the intervention of a family fromwhom I had received the greatest insults. And this being our presentsituation, I was contented that Mr. John Harlowe should suspend hisreconciliatory purposes till our marriage were actually solemnized. '

The Captain was highly delighted with all I said: Yet owned, that as hisdear friend Mr. Harlowe had expressed himself greatly pleased to hearthat we were actually married, he could have wished it had been so. But, nevertheless, he doubted not that all would be well. 

He saw my reasons, he said, and approved of them, for making thegentlewomen below [whom again he understood to be good sort of people]believe that the ceremony had passed; which so well accounted for whatthe lady's maid had told Mr. Harlowe's friend. Mr. James Harlowe, hesaid, had certainly ends to answer in keeping open the breach; and ascertainly had formed a design to get his sister out of my hands. Wherefore it as much imported his worthy friend to keep this treaty assecret, as it did me; at least till he had formed his party, and takenhis measures. Ill will and passion were dreadful misrepresenters. Itwas amazing to him, that animosity could be carried so high against a mancapable of views so pacific and so honourable, and who had shown such acommand of his temper, in this whole transaction, as I had done. Generosity, indeed, in every case, where love of stratagem and intrigue(I would excuse him) were not concerned, was a part of my character. 

He was proceeding, when, breakfast being ready, in came the empress of myheart, irradiating all around her, as with a glory--a benignity andgraciousness in her aspect, that, though natural to it, had been longbanished from it. 

Next to prostration lowly bowed the Captain. O how the sweet creaturesmiled her approbation of him! Reverence from one begets reverence fromanother. Men are more of monkeys in imitation than they thinkthemselves. --Involuntarily, in a manner, I bent my knee--My dearestlife--and made a very fine speech on presenting the Captain to her. Notitle myself, to her lip or cheek, 'tis well he attempted not either. Hewas indeed ready to worship her;--could only touch her charming hand. 

I have told the Captain, my dear creature--and then I briefly repeated(as if I had supposed she had not heard it) all I had told him. 

He was astonished, that any body could be displeased one moment with suchan angel. He undertook her cause as the highest degree of merit tohimself. 

Never, I must need say, did an angel so much look the angel. All placid, serene, smiling, self-assured: a more lovely flush than usual heighteningher natural graces, and adding charms, even to radiance, to her charmingcomplexion. 

After we had seated ourselves, the agreeable subject was renewed, as wetook our chocolate. How happy should she be in her uncle's restoredfavour!

The Captain engaged for it--No more delays, he hoped, on her part! Letthe happy day be but once over, all would then be right. But was itimproper to ask for copies of my proposals, and of her answer, in orderto show them to his dear friend, her uncle?

As Mr. Lovelace pleased. --O that the dear creature would always say so!

It must be in strict confidence then, I said. But would it not be betterto show her uncle the draught of the settlements, when drawn?

And will you be so good as to allow of this, Mr. Lovelace?

There, Belford! We were once the quarrelsome, but now we are the polite, lovers. 

Indeed, my dear creature, I will, if you desire it, and if CaptainTomlinson will engage that Mr. Harlowe shall keep them absolutely asecret; that I may not be subjected to the cavil and controul of anyothers of a family that have used me so very ill. 

Now, indeed, Sir, you are very obliging. 

Dost think, Jack, that my face did not now also shine?

I held out my hand, (first consecrating it with a kiss, ) for her's. Shecondescended to give it me. I pressed it to my lips: You know notCaptain Tomlinson, (with an air, ) all storms overblown, what a happyman--

Charming couple! [his hands lifted up, ] how will my good friend rejoice!O that he were present! You know not, Madam, how dear you still are toyour uncle Harlowe!

I am still unhappy ever to have disobliged him!

Not too much of that, however, fairest, thought I!

The Captain repeated his resolution of service, and that in so acceptablea manner, that the dear creature wished that neither he, nor any of his, might ever want a friend of equal benevolence. 

Nor any of this, she said; for the Captain brought it in, that he hadfive children living, by one of the best wives and mothers, whoseexcellent management made him as happy as if his eight hundred pounds ayear (which was all he had to boast of) were two thousand. 

Without economy, the oracular lady said, no estate was large enough. With it, the least was not too small. 

Lie still, teasing villain! lie still. --I was only speaking to myconscience, Jack. 

And let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, said the Captain; yet not so much fromdoubt, as that I may proceed upon sure grounds--You are willing toco-operate with my dear friend in a general reconciliation?

Let me tell you, Mr. Tomlinson, that if it can be distinguished, that myreadiness to make up with a family, of whose generosity I have not hadreason to think highly, is entirely owing to the value I have for thisangel of a woman, I will not only co-operate with Mr. John Harlowe, asyou ask; but I will meet with Mr. James Harlowe senior, and his lady, allthe way. And furthermore, to make the son James and his sister Arabellaquite easy, I will absolutely disclaim any further interest, whetherliving or dying, in any of the three brothers' estates; contenting myselfwith what my beloved's grandfather had bequeathed to her: for I havereason to be abundantly satisfied with my own circumstances andprospects--enough rewarded, were she not to bring a shilling in dowry, ina woman who has a merit superior to all the goods of fortune. --True asthe Gospel, Belford!--Why had not this scene a real foundation?

The dear creature, by her eyes, expressed her gratitude, before her lipscould utter it. O Mr. Lovelace, said she--you have infinitely--And thereshe stopt. 

The Captain run over in my praise. He was really affected. 

O that I had not such a mixture of revenge and pride in my love, thoughtI!--But, (my old plea, ) cannot I make her amends at any time? And is nother virtue now in the height of its probation?--Would she lay aside, likethe friends of my uncontending Rosebud, all thoughts of defiance--Wouldshe throw herself upon my mercy, and try me but one fortnight in the lifeof honour--What then?--I cannot say, What then--

Do not despise me, Jack, for my inconsistency--in no two letters perhapsagreeing with myself--Who expects consistency in men of ourcharacter?--But I am mad with love--fired by revenge--puzzled with my owndevices--my invention is my curse--my pride my punishment--drawn five orsix ways at once, can she possibly be so unhappy as I?--O why, why, wasthis woman so divinely excellent!--Yet how know I that she is? What havebeen her trials? Have I had the courage to make a single one upon herperson, though a thousand upon her temper?--Enow, I hope, to make herafraid of ever more disobliging me more!--

***

I must banish reflection, or I am a lost man. For these two hours pasthave I hated myself for my own contrivances. And this not only from whatI have related to thee; but for what I have further to relate. But Ihave now once more steeled my heart. My vengeance is uppermost; for Ihave been reperusing some of Miss Howe's virulence. The contempt theyhave both held me in I cannot bear. 

The happiest breakfast-time, my beloved owned, that she had ever knownsince she had left her father's house. [She might have let this alone. ]The Captain renewed all his protestations of service. He would write meword how his dear friend received the account he should give him of thehappy situation of our affairs, and what he thought of the settlements, as soon as I should send him the draughts so kindly promised. And weparted with great professions of mutual esteem; my beloved putting upvows for the success of his generous mediation. 

When I returned from attending the Captain down stairs, which I did tothe outward door, my beloved met me as I entered the dining-room;complacency reigning in every lovely feature. 

'You see me already, ' said she, 'another creature. You know not, Mr. Lovelace, how near my heart this hoped-for reconciliation is. I am nowwilling to banish every disagreeable remembrance. You know not, Sir, howmuch you have obliged me. And O Mr. Lovelace, how happy I shall be, whenmy heart is lightened from the all-sinking weight of a father's curse!When my dear mamma--You don't know, Sir, half the excellencies of my dearmamma! and what a kind heart she has, when it is left to follow its ownimpulses--When this blessed mamma shall once more fold me to herindulgent bosom! When I shall again have uncles and aunts, and a brotherand sister, all striving who shall show most kindness and favour to thepoor outcast, then no more an outcast--And you, Mr. Lovelace, to beholdall this, with welcome--What though a little cold at first? when theycome to know you better, and to see you oftener, no fresh causes ofdisgust occurring, and you, as I hope, having entered upon a new course, all will be warmer and warmer love on both sides, till every one willperhaps wonder, how they came to set themselves against you. '

Then drying her tears with her handkerchief, after a few moments pausing, on a sudden, as if recollecting that she had been led by her joy to anexpression of it which she had not intended I should see, she retired toher chamber with precipitation; leaving me almost as unable to stand itas herself. 

In short, I was--I want words to say how I was--my nose had been made totingle before; my eyes have before been made to glisten by thissoul-moving beauty; but so very much affected, I never was--for, tryingto check my sensibility, it was too strong for me, and I even sobbed--Yes, by my soul, I audibly sobbed, and was forced to turn from her beforeshe had well finished her affecting speech. 

I want, methinks, now I had owned the odd sensation, to describe it tothee--the thing was so strange to me--something choking, as it were, inmy throat--I know not how--yet, I must needs say, though I am out ofcountenance upon the recollection, that there was something very prettyin it; and I wish I could know it again, that I might have a more perfectidea of it, and be better able to describe it to thee. 

But this effect of her joy on such an occasion gives me a high notion ofwhat that virtue must be [What other name can I call it?] which in a mindso capable of delicate transport, should be able to make so charming acreature, in her very bloom, all frost and snow to every advance of lovefrom the man she hates not. This must be all from education too--Must itnot, Belford? Can education have stronger force in a woman's heart thannature?--Sure it cannot. But if it can, how entirely right are parentsto cultivate their daughters' minds, and to inspire them with notions ofreserve and distance to our sex: and indeed to make them think highly oftheir own! for pride is an excellent substitute, let me tell thee, wherevirtue shines not out, as the sun, in its own unborrowed lustre. 

LETTER VIII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. 

And now it is time to confess (and yet I know that thy conjectures areaforehand with my exposition) that this Captain Tomlinson, who is sogreat a favourite with my charmer, and who takes so much delight inhealing breaches, and reconciling differences, is neither a greater mannor a less than honest Patrick M'Donald, attended by a discarded footmanof his own finding out. 

Thou knowest what a various-lifed rascal he is; and to what better hopesborn and educated. But that ingenious knack of forgery, for which he wasexpelled the Dublin-University, and a detection since in evidenceship, have been his ruin. For these have thrown him from one country toanother; and at last, into the way of life, which would make him a fithusband for Miss Howe's Townsend with her contrabands. He is, thouknowest, admirably qualified for any enterprize that requires adroitnessand solemnity. And can there, after all, be a higher piece of justice, than to keep one smuggler in readiness to play against another?

'Well, but, Lovelace, (methinks thou questionest, ) how camest thou toventure upon such a contrivance as this, when, as thou hast told me, theLady used to be a month at a time at this uncle's; and must therefore, inall probability, know, that there was not a Captain Tomlinson in all theneighbourhood, at least no one of the name so intimate with him as thisman pretends to be?'

This objection, Jack, is so natural a one, that I could not helpobserving to my charmer, that she must surely have heard her uncle speakof this gentleman. No, she said, she never had. Besides she had notbeen at her uncle Harlowe's for near ten months [this I had heard fromher before]: and there were several gentlemen who used the same green, whom she knew not. 

We are all very ready, thou knowest, to believe what she likes. 

And what was the reason, thinkest thou, that she had not been of so longa time at this uncle's?--Why, this old sinner, who imagines himselfentitled to call me to account for my freedoms with the sex, has latelyfallen into familiarities, as it is suspected, with his housekeeper; whoassumes airs upon it. --A cursed deluding sex!--In youth, middle age, ordotage, they take us all in. 

Dost thou not see, however, that this housekeeper knows nothing, nor isto know any thing, of the treaty of reconciliation designed to be set onfoot; and therefore the uncle always comes to the Captain, the Captaingoes not to the uncle? And this I surmised to the lady. And then it wasa natural suggestion, that the Captain was the rather applied to, as heis a stranger to the rest of the family--Need I tell thee the meaning ofall this?

But this intrigue of the antient is a piece of private history, the truthof which my beloved cares not to own, and indeed affects to disbelieve:as she does also some puisny gallantries of her foolish brother; which, by way of recrimination, I have hinted at, without naming my informant intheir family. 

'Well but, methinks, thou questionest again, Is it not probable that MissHowe will make inquiry after such a man as Tomlinson?--And when shecannot--'

I know what thou wouldst say--but I have no doubt, that Wilson will be sogood, if I desire it, as to give into my own hands any letter that may bebrought by Collins to his house, for a week to come. And now I hope thouart satisfied. 

I will conclude with a short story. 

'Two neighbouring sovereigns were at war together, about some pitifulchuck-farthing thing or other; no matter what; for the least trifles willset princes and children at loggerheads. Their armies had been drawn upin battalia some days, and the news of a decisive action was expectedevery hour to arrive at each court. At last, issue was joined; a bloodybattle was fought; and a fellow who had been a spectator of it, arriving, with the news of a complete victory, at the capital of one of the princessome time before the appointed couriers, the bells were set a ringing, bonfires and illuminations were made, and the people went to bedintoxicated with joy and good liquor. But the next day all was reversed:The victorious enemy, pursuing his advantage, was expected every hour atthe gates of the almost defenceless capital. The first reporter washereupon sought for, and found; and being questioned, pleaded a greatdeal of merit, in that he had, in so dismal a situation, taken such aspace of time from the distress of his fellow-citizens, and given it tofestivity, as were the hours between the false good news and the realbad. '

Do thou, Belford, make the application. This I know, that I have givengreater joy to my beloved, than she had thought would so soon fall to hershare. And as the human life is properly said to be chequerwork, nodoubt but a person of her prudence will make the best of it, and set offso much good against so much bad, in order to strike as just a balance aspossible. 

[The Lady, in three several letters, acquaints her friend with the mostmaterial passages and conversations contained in those of Mr. Lovelace'spreceding. These are her words, on relating what the commission of thepretended Tomlinson was, after the apprehensions that his distant inquiryhad given her:]

At last, my dear, all these doubts and fears were cleared up, andbanished; and, in their place, a delightful prospect was opened to me. For it comes happily out, (but at present it must be an absolute secret, for reasons which I shall mention in the sequel, ) that the gentleman wassent by my uncle Harlowe [I thought he could not be angry with me forever]: all owing to the conversation that passed between your good Mr. Hickman and him. For although Mr. Hickman's application was too harshlyrejected at the time, my uncle could not but think better of itafterwards, and of the arguments that worthy gentleman used in my favour. 

Who, upon a passionate repulse, would despair of having a reasonablerequest granted?--Who would not, by gentleness and condescension, endeavour to leave favourable impressions upon an angry mind; which, whenit comes cooly to reflect, may induce it to work itself into acondescending temper? To request a favour, as I have often said, is onething; to challenge it as our due, is another. And what right has apetitioner to be angry at a repulse, if he has not a right to demand whathe sues for as a debt?

[She describes Captain Tomlinson, on his breakfast-visit, to be, a grave, good sort of man. And in another place, a genteel man of great gravity, and a good aspect; she believes upwards of fifty years of age. 'I likedhim, says she, as soon as I saw him. '

As her projects are now, she says, more favourable than heretofore, shewishes, that her hopes of Mr. Lovelace's so-often-promised reformationwere better grounded than she is afraid they can be. ]

We have both been extremely puzzled, my dear, says she, to reconcile someparts of Mr. Lovelace's character with other parts of it: his good withhis bad; such of the former, in particular, as his generosity to histenants; his bounty to the innkeeper's daughter; his readiness to put meupon doing kind things by my good Norton, and others. 

A strange mixture in his mind, as I have told him! for he is certainly(as I have reason to say, looking back upon his past behaviour to me intwenty instances) a hard-hearted man. --Indeed, my dear, I have thoughtmore than once, that he had rather see me in tears than give me reason tobe pleased with him. 

My cousin Morden says, that free livers are remorseless. * And so theymust be in the very nature of things. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter XIX. See also Mr. Lovelace's own confession of thedelight he takes in a woman's tears, in different parts of his letters. 

Mr. Lovelace is a proud man. We have both long ago observed that he is. And I am truly afraid, that his very generosity is more owing to hispride and his vanity, that that philanthropy (shall I call it?) whichdistinguishes a beneficent mind. 

Money he values not, but as a mean to support his pride and hisindependence. And it is easy, as I have often thought, for a person topart with a secondary appetite, when, by so doing, he can promote orgratify a first. 

I am afraid, my dear, that there must have been some fault in hiseducation. His natural bias was not, perhaps (as his power was likely tobe large) to do good and beneficent actions; but not, I doubt, fromproper motives. 

If he had, his generosity would not have stopt at pride, but would havestruck into humanity; and then would he not have contented himself withdoing praiseworthy things by fits and starts, or, as if relying on thedoctrine of merits, he hoped by a good action to atone for a bad one;*but he would have been uniformly noble, and done the good for its ownsake. 

* That the Lady judges rightly of him in this place, see Vol. I. LetterXXXIV. Where, giving the motive for his generosity to his Rosebud, hesays--'As I make it my rule, whenever I have committed a very capitalenormity, to do some good by way of atonement; and as I believe I am apretty deal indebted on that score; I intend to join an hundred pounds toJohnny's aunt's hundred pounds, to make one innocent couple happy. '--Besides which motive, he had a further view in answer in that instance ofhis generosity; as may be seen in Vol. II. Letters XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. See also the note, Vol. II. Pp. 170, 171. 

To show the consistence of his actions, as they now appear, with hisviews and principles, as he lays them down in his first letters, it maybe not amiss to refer the reader to his letters, Vol. I. No. XXXIV. XXXV. 

See also Vol. I. Letter XXX. --and Letter XL. For Clarissa's early opinionof Mr. Lovelace. --Whence the coldness and indifference to him, which heso repeatedly accuses her of, will be accounted for, more to her glory, than to his honour. 

O my dear! what a lot have I drawn! pride, this poor man's virtue; andrevenge, his other predominating quality!--This one consolation, however, remains:--He is not an infidel, and unbeliever: had he been an infidel, there would have been no room at all for hope of him; (but pridinghimself, as he does, in his fertile invention) he would have been utterlyabandoned, irreclaimable, and a savage. 

[When she comes to relate those occasions, which Mr. Lovelace in hisnarrative acknowledges himself to be affected by, she thus expressesherself:]

He endeavoured, as once before, to conceal his emotion. But why, mydear, should these men (for Mr. Lovelace is not singular in this) thinkthemselves above giving these beautiful proofs of a feeling heart? Wereit in my power again to choose, or to refuse, I would reject the man withcontempt, who sought to suppress, or offered to deny, the power of beingvisibly affected upon proper occasions, as either a savage-heartedcreature, or as one who was so ignorant of the principal glory of thehuman nature, as to place his pride in a barbarous insensibility. 

These lines translated from Juvenal by Mr. Tate, I have been oftenpleased with:

 Compassion proper to mankind appears: Which Nature witness'd, when she lent us tears. Of tender sentiments we only give These proofs: To weep is our prerogative: To show by pitying looks, and melting eyes, How with a suff'ring friend we sympathise. Who can all sense of other ills escape, Is but a brute at best, in human shape. 

It cannot but yield me some pleasure, hardly as I have sometimes thoughtof the people of the house, that such a good man as Captain Tomlinson hadspoken well of them, upon inquiry. 

And here I stop a minute, my dear, to receive, in fancy, your kindcongratulation. 

My next, I hope, will confirm my present, and open still more agreeableprospects. Mean time be assured, that there cannot possibly any goodfortune befal me, which I shall look upon with equal delight to that Ihave in your friendship. 

My thankful compliments to your good Mr. Hickman, to whose kind inventionI am so much obliged on this occasion, conclude me, my dearest Miss Howe, Your ever affectionate and gratefulCL. HARLOWE. 

LETTER IX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 30. 

I have a letter from Lord M. Such a one as I would wish for, if Iintended matrimony. But as matters are circumstanced, I cannot think ofshowing it to my beloved. 

My Lord regrets, 'that he is not to be the Lady's nuptial father. Heseems apprehensive that I have still, specious as my reasons are, somemischief in my head. '

He graciously consents, 'that I may marry when I please; and offers oneor both of my cousins to assist my bride, and to support her spirits onthe occasion; since, as he understands, she is so much afraid to venturewith me. 

'Pritchard, he tells me, has his final orders to draw up deeds forassigning over to me, in perpetuity, 1000�. Per annum: which he willexecute the same hour that the lady in person owns her marriage. '

He consents, 'that the jointure be made from my own estate. '

He wishes, 'that the Lady would have accepted of his draught; andcommends me for tendering it to her. But reproaches me for my pride innot keeping it myself. What the right side gives up, the left, he says, may be the better for. '

The girls, the left-sided girls, he means. 

With all my heart. If I can have my Clarissa, the devil take every thingelse. 

A good deal of other stuff writes the stupid peer; scribbling in severalplaces half a dozen lines, apparently for no other reason but to bring inas many musty words in an old saw. 

If thou sawest, 'How I can manage, since my beloved will wonder that Ihave not an answer from my Lord to such a letter as I wrote to him; andif I own I have one, will expect that I should shew it to her, as I didmy letter?--This I answer--'That I can be informed by Pritchard, that myLord has the gout in his right-hand; and has ordered him to attend me inform, for my particular orders about the transfer:' And I can seePritchard, thou knowest, at the King's Arms, or wherever I please, at anhour's warning; though he be at M. Hall, I in town; and he, by word ofmouth, can acquaint me with every thing in my Lord's letter that isnecessary for my charmer to know. 

Whenever it suits me, I can resolve the old peer to his right hand, andthen can make him write a much more sensible letter than this that he hasnow sent me. 

Thou knowest, that an adroitness in the art of manual imitation, was oneof my earliest attainments. It has been said, on this occasion, that hadI been a bad man in meum and tuum matters, I should not have been fit tolive. As to the girls, we hold it no sin to cheat them. And are we nottold, that in being well deceived consists the whole of human happiness?

WEDNESDAY, MAY 31. 

All still happier and happier. A very high honour done me: a chariot, instead of a coach, permitted, purposely to indulge me in the subject ofsubjects. 

Our discourse in this sweet airing turned upon our future manner of life. The day is bashfully promised me. Soon was the answer to my repeatedurgency. Our equipage, our servants, our liveries, were parts of thedelightful subject. A desire that the wretch who had given meintelligence out of the family (honest Joseph Leman) might not be one ofour menials; and her resolution to have her faithful Hannah, whetherrecovered or not; were signified; and both as readily assented to. 

Her wishes, from my attentive behaviour, when with her at St. Paul's, *that I would often accompany her to the Divine Service, were greatlyintimated, and as readily engaged for. I assured her, that I ever hadrespected the clergy in a body; and some individuals of them (her Dr. Lewen for one) highly: and that were not going to church an act ofreligion, I thought it [as I told thee once] a most agreeable sight tosee rich and poor, all of a company, as I might say, assembled once aweek in one place, and each in his or her best attire, to worship the Godthat made them. Nor could it be a hardship upon a man liberallyeducated, to make one on so solemn an occasion, and to hear the harangueof a man of letters, (though far from being the principal part of theservice, as it is too generally looked upon to be, ) whose studies havingtaken a different turn from his own, he must always have something new tosay. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter V. ** Ibid. 

She shook her head, and repeated the word new: but looked as if willingto be satisfied for the present with this answer. To be sure, Jack, shemeans to do great despight to his Satanic majesty in her hopes ofreforming me. No wonder, therefore, if he exerts himself to prevent her, and to be revenged. But how came this in!--I am ever of party againstmyself. --One day, I fancy, I shall hate myself on recollecting what I amabout at this instant. But I must stay till then. We must all of us dosomething to repent of. 

The reconciliation-prospect was enlarged upon. If her uncle Harlowe willbut pave the way to it, and if it can be brought about, she shall behappy. --Happy, with a sigh, as it is now possible she can be!

She won't forbear, Jack!

I told her, that I had heard from Pritchard, just before we set out onour airing, and expected him in town to-morrow from Lord M. To take mydirections. I spoke with gratitude of my Lord's kindness to me; and withpleasure of Lady Sarah's, Lady Betty's, and my two cousins Montague'sveneration for her: as also of his Lordship's concern that his gouthindered him from writing a reply with his own hand to my last. 

She pitied my Lord. She pitied poor Mrs. Fretchville too; for she hadthe goodness to inquire after her. The dear creature pitied every bodythat seemed to want pity. Happy in her own prospects, she had leisure tolook abroad, and wishes every body equally happy. 

It is likely to go very hard with Mrs. Fretchville. Her face, which shehad valued herself upon, will be utterly ruined. 'This good, however, asI could not but observe, she may reap from so great an evil--as thegreater malady generally swallows up the less, she may have a grief onthis occasion, that may diminish the other grief, and make it tolerable. '

I had a gentle reprimand for this light turn on so heavy an evil--'Forwhat was the loss of beauty to the loss of a good husband?'--Excellentcreature!

Her hopes (and her pleasure upon those hopes) that Miss Howe's motherwould be reconciled to her, were also mentioned. Good Mrs. Howe was herword, for a woman so covetous, and so remorseless in her covetousness, that no one else will call her good. But this dear creature has such anextension in her love, as to be capable of valuing the most insignificantanimal related to those whom she respects. Love me, and love my dog, Ihave heard Lord M. Say. --Who knows, but that I may in time, in complimentto myself, bring her to think well of thee, Jack?

But what am I about? Am I not all this time arraigning my own heart?--Iknow I am, by the remorse I feel in it, while my pen bears testimony toher excellence. But yet I must add (for no selfish consideration shallhinder me from doing justice to this admirable creature) that in thisconversation she demonstrated so much prudent knowledge in every thingthat relates to that part of the domestic management which falls underthe care of a mistress of a family, that I believe she has no equal ofher years in the world. 

But, indeed, I know not the subject on which she does not talk withadmirable distinction; insomuch that could I but get over my prejudicesagainst matrimony, and resolve to walk in the dull beaten path of myancestors, I should be the happiest of men--and if I cannot, I may be tentimes more to be pitied than she. 

My heart, my heart, Belford, is not to be trusted--I break off, tore-peruse some of Miss Howe's virulence. 

***

Cursed letters, these of Miss Howe, Jack!--Do thou turn back to those ofmine, where I take notice of them--I proceed--

Upon the whole, my charmer was all gentleness, all ease, all serenity, throughout this sweet excursion. Nor had she reason to be otherwise: forit being the first time that I had the honour of her company alone, I wasresolved to encourage her, by my respectfulness, to repeat the favour. 

On our return, I found the counsellor's clerk waiting for me, with adraught of the marriage-settlements. 

They are drawn, with only the necessary variations, from those made formy mother. The original of which (now returned by the counsellor) aswell as the new draughts, I have put into my beloved's hands. 

These settlements of my mother made the lawyer's work easy; nor can shehave a better precedent; the great Lord S. Having settled them, at therequest of my mother's relations; all the difference, my charmer's are100l. Per annum more than my mother's. 

I offered to read to her the old deed, while she looked over the draught;for she had refused her presence at the examination with the clerk: butthis she also declined. 

I suppose she did not care to hear of so many children, first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sons, and as many daughters, tobe begotten upon the body of the said Clarissa Harlowe. 

Charming matrimonial recitativoes!--though it is always said lawfullybegotten too--as if a man could beget children unlawfully upon the bodyof his own wife. --But thinkest thou not that these arch rogues thelawyers hereby intimate, that a man may have children by his wife beforemarriage?--This must be what they mean. Why will these sly fellows putan honest man in minds of such rogueries?--but hence, as in numberlessother instances, we see, that law and gospel are two very differentthings. 

Dorcas, in our absence, tried to get at the wainscot-box in the darkcloset. But it cannot be done without violence. And to run a risk ofconsequence now, for mere curiosity-sake, would be inexcusable. 

Mrs. Sinclair and the nymphs are all of opinion, that I am now so much afavourite, and have such a visible share in her confidence, and even inher affections, that I may do what I will, and plead for excuse violenceof passion; which, they will have it, makes violence of action pardonablewith their sex; as well as allowed extenuation with the unconcerned ofboth sexes; and they all offer their helping hands. Why not? they say:Has she not passed for my wife before them all?--And is she not in a fineway of being reconciled to her friends?--And was not the want of thatreconciliation the pretence for postponing the consummation?

They again urge me, since it is so difficult to make night my friend, toan attempt in the day. They remind me, that the situation of their houseis such, that no noises can be heard out of it; and ridicule me formaking it necessary for a lady to be undressed. It was not always sowith me, poor old man! Sally told me; saucily flinging her handkerchiefin my face. 

LETTER X

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, JUNE 2. 

Notwithstanding my studied-for politeness and complaisance for some dayspast; and though I have wanted courage to throw the mask quite aside; yetI have made the dear creature more than once look about her, by the warm, though decent expression of my passion. I have brought her to own, thatI am more than indifferent with her: but as to LOVE, which I pressed herto acknowledge, what need of acknowledgments of that sort, when a womanconsents to marrying?--And once repulsing me with displeasure, the proofof true love I was vowing for her, was RESPECT, not FREEDOM. Andoffering to defend myself, she told me, that all the conception she hadbeen able to form of a faulty passion, was, that it must demonstrateitself as mine sought to do. 

I endeavoured to justify my passion, by laying over-delicacy at her door. Over-delicacy, she said, was not my fault, if it were her's. She mustplainly tell me, that I appeared to her incapable of distinguishing whatwere the requisites of a pure mind. Perhaps, had the libertinepresumption to imagine, that there was no difference in heart, nor anybut what proceeded from difference of education and custom, between thepure and impure--and yet custom alone, as she observed, if I did sothink, would make a second nature, as well in good as in bad habits. 

***

I have just now been called to account for some innocent liberties whichI thought myself entitled to take before the women; as they suppose us tobe married, and now within view of consummation. 

I took the lecture very hardly; and with impatience wished for the happyday and hour when I might call her all my own, and meet with no checkfrom a niceness that had no example. 

She looked at me with a bashful kind of contempt. I thought it contempt, and required the reason for it; not being conscious of offence, as I toldher. 

This is not the first time, Mr. Lovelace, said she, that I have had causeto be displeased with you, when you, perhaps, have not thought yourselfexceptionable. --But, Sir, let me tell you, that the married state, in myeye, is a state of purity, and [I think she told me] not oflicentiousness; so, at least, I understood her. 

Marriage-purity, Jack!--Very comical, 'faith--yet, sweet dears, half thefemale world ready to run away with a rake, because he is a rake; and forno other reason; nay, every other reason against their choice of such aone. 

But have not you and I, Belford, seen young wives, who would be thoughtmodest! and, when maids, were fantastically shy; permit freedoms inpublic from their uxorious husbands, which have shown, that both of themhave forgotten what belongs either to prudence or decency? while everymodest eye has sunk under the shameless effrontery, and every modest facebeen covered with blushes for those who could not blush. 

I once, upon such an occasion, proposed to a circle of a dozen, thusscandalized, to withdraw; since they must needs see that as well thelady, as the gentleman, wanted to be in private. This motion had itseffect upon the amorous pair; and I was applauded for the check given totheir licentiousness. 

But, upon another occasion of this sort, I acted a little more incharacter. For I ventured to make an attempt upon a bride, which Ishould not have had the courage to make, had not the unblushingpassiveness with which she received her fond husband's public toyings(looking round her with triumph rather than with shame, upon every ladypresent) incited my curiosity to know if the same complacency might notbe shown to a private friend. 'Tis true, I was in honour obliged to keepthe secret. But I never saw the turtles bill afterwards, but I thoughtof number two to the same female; and in my heart thanked the fondhusband for the lesson he had taught his wife. 

From what I have said, thou wilt see, that I approve of my beloved'sexception to public loves. That, I hope, is all the charming iciclemeans by marriage-purity, but to return. 

From the whole of what I have mentioned to have passed between my belovedand me, thou wilt gather, that I have not been a mere dangler, a Hickman, in the passed days, though not absolutely active, and a Lovelace. 

The dear creature now considers herself as my wife-elect. The unsaddenedheart, no longer prudish, will not now, I hope, give the sable turn toevery address of the man she dislikes not. And yet she must keep up somuch reserve, as will justify past inflexibilities. 'Many and many apretty soul would yield, were she not afraid that the man she favouredwould think the worse of her for it. ' That is also a part of the rake'screed. But should she resent ever so strongly, she cannot now break withme; since, if she does, there will be an end of the familyreconciliation; and that in a way highly discreditable to herself. 

SATURDAY, JUNE 3. 

Just returned from Doctors Commons. I have been endeavouring to get alicense. Very true, Jack. I have the mortification to find adifficulty, as the lady is of rank and fortune, and as there is noconsent of father or next friend, in obtaining this all-fetteringinstrument. 

I made report of this difficulty. 'It is very right, ' she says, 'thatsuch difficulties should be made. '--But not to a man of my known fortune, surely, Jack, though the woman were the daughter of a duke. 

I asked, if she approved of the settlements? She said, she had comparedthem with my mother's, and had no objection to them. She had written toMiss Howe upon the subject, she owned; and to inform her of our presentsituation. *

* As this letter of the Lady to Miss Howe contains no new matter, butwhat may be collected from one of those of Mr. Lovelace, it is omitted. 

***

Just now, in high good humour, my beloved returned me the draughts of thesettlements: a copy of which I have sent to Captain Tomlinson. Shecomplimented me, 'that she never had any doubt of my honour in cases ofthis nature. '

In matters between man and man nobody ever had, thou knowest. 

I had need, thou wilt say, to have some good qualities. 

Great faults and great virtues are often found in the same person. Innothing very bad, but as to women: and did not one of them begin withme. *

* See Vol. I. Letter XXXI. 

We have held, that women have no souls. I am a very Turk in this point, and willing to believe they have not. And if so, to whom shall I beaccountable for what I do to them? Nay, if souls they have, as there isno sex in ethereals, nor need of any, what plea can a lady hold ofinjuries done her in her lady-state, when there is an end of herlady-ship?

LETTER XI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, JUNE 5. 

I am now almost in despair of succeeding with this charming frost-pieceby love or gentleness. --A copy of the draughts, as I told thee, has beensent to Captain Tomlinson; and that by a special messenger. Engrossmentsare proceeding with. I have been again at the Commons. --Should in allprobability have procured a license by Mallory's means, had not Mallory'sfriend, the proctor, been suddenly sent for to Chestnut, to make an oldlady's will. Pritchard has told me by word of mouth, though my charmersaw him not, all that was necessary for her to know in the letter my Lordwrote, which I could not show her: and taken my directions about theestates to be made over to me on my nuptials. --Yet, with all thesefavourable appearances, no conceding moment to be found, no improvabletenderness to be raised. 

But never, I believe, was there so true, so delicate a modesty in thehuman mind as in that of this lady. And this has been my security allalong; and, in spite of Miss Howe's advice to her, will be so still;since, if her delicacy be a fault, she can no more overcome it than I canmy aversion to matrimony. Habit, habit, Jack, seest thou not? maysubject us both to weaknesses. And should she not have charity for me, as I have for her?

Twice indeed with rapture, which once she called rude, did I salute her;and each time resenting the freedom, did she retire; though, to do herjustice, she favoured me again with her presence at my first entreaty, and took no notice of the cause of her withdrawing. 

Is it policy to show so open a resentment for innocent liberties, which, in her situation, she must so soon forgive?

Yet the woman who resents not initiatory freedoms must be lost. For loveis an encroacher. Love never goes backward. Love is always aspiring. Always must aspire. Nothing but the highest act of love can satisfy anindulged love. And what advantages has a lover, who values not breakingthe peace, over his mistress who is solicitous to keep it!

I have now at this instant wrought myself up, for the dozenth time, to ahalf-resolution. A thousand agreeable things I have to say to her. Sheis in the dining-room. Just gone up. She always expects me when there. 

***

High displeasure!--followed by an abrupt departure. 

I sat down by her. I took both her hands in mine. I would have it so. All gentle my voice. Her father mentioned with respect. Her mother withreverence. Even her brother amicably spoken of. I never thought I couldhave wished so ardently, as I told her I did wish, for a reconciliationwith her family. 

A sweet and grateful flush then overspread her fair face; a gentle sighnow-and-then heaved her handkerchief. 

I perfectly longed to hear from Captain Tomlinson. It was impossible forthe uncle to find fault with the draught of the settlements. I wouldnot, however, be understood, by sending them down, that I intended to putit in her uncle's power to delay my happy day. When, when was it to be?

I would hasten again to the Commons; and would not return without thelicense. 

The Lawn I proposed to retire to, as soon as the happy ceremony was over. This day and that day I proposed. 

It was time enough to name the day, when the settlements were completed, and the license obtained. Happy should she be, could the kind CaptainTomlinson obtain her uncle's presence privately. 

A good hint!--It may perhaps be improved upon--either for a delay or apacifier. 

No new delays for Heaven's sake, I besought her; and reproached hergently for the past. Name but the day--(an early day, I hoped it wouldbe, in the following week)--that I might hail its approach, and numberthe tardy hours. 

My cheek reclined on her shoulder--kissing her hands by turns. Ratherbashfully than angrily reluctant, her hands sought to be withdrawn; hershoulder avoiding my reclined cheek--apparently loth, and more loth toquarrel with me; her downcast eye confessing more than her lips canutter. Now surely, thought I, is my time to try if she can forgive astill bolder freedom than I had ever yet taken. 

I then gave her struggling hands liberty. I put one arm round her waist:I imprinted a kiss on her sweet lip, with a Be quiet only, and an avertedface, as if she feared another. 

Encouraged by so gentle a repulse, the tenderest things I said; and then, with my other hand, drew aside the handkerchief that concealed the beautyof beauties, and pressed with my burning lips the most charming breastthat ever my ravished eyes beheld. 

A very contrary passion to that which gave her bosom so delightful aswell, immediately took place. She struggled out of my encircling armswith indignation. I detained her reluctant hand. Let me go, said she. I see there is no keeping terms with you. Base encroacher! Is this thedesign of your flattering speeches? Far as matters have gone, I will forever renounce you. You have an odious heart. Let me go, I tell you. 

I was forced to obey, and she flung from me, repeating base, and addingflattering, encroacher. 

***

In vain have I urged by Dorcas for the promised favour of dining with her. She would not dine at all. She could not. 

But why makes she every inch of her person thus sacred?--So near the timetoo, that she must suppose, that all will be my own by deed of purchaseand settlement?

She has read, no doubt, of the art of the eastern monarchs, who sequesterthemselves from the eyes of their subjects, in order to excite theiradoration, when, upon some solemn occasions, they think fit to appear inpublic. 

But let me ask thee, Belford, whether (on these solemn occasions) thepreceding cavalcade; here a greater officer, and there a great minister, with their satellites, and glaring equipages; do not prepare the eyes ofthe wondering beholders, by degrees, to bear the blaze of canopy'dmajesty (what though but an ugly old man perhaps himself? yet) glitteringin the collected riches of his vast empire?

And should not my beloved, for her own sake, descend, by degrees, fromgoddess-hood into humanity? If it be pride that restrains her, ought notthat pride to be punished? If, as in the eastern emperors, it be art aswell as pride, art is what she of all women need not use. If shame, whata shame to be ashamed to communicate to her adorer's sight the mostadmirable of her personal graces?

Let me perish, Belford, if I would not forego the brightest diadem in theworld, for the pleasure of seeing a twin Lovelace at each charmingbreast, drawing from it his first sustenance; the pious task, forphysical reasons, * continued for one month and no more!

* In Pamela, Vol. III. Letter XXXII. These reasons are given, and areworthy of every parent's consideration, as is the whole Letter, whichcontains the debate between Mr. B. And his Pamela, on the importantsubject of mothers being nurses to their own children. 

I now, methinks, behold this most charming of women in this sweet office:her conscious eye now dropt on one, now on the other, with a sigh ofmaternal tenderness, and then raised up to my delighted eye, full ofwishes, for the sake of the pretty varlets, and for her own sake, that Iwould deign to legitimate; that I would condescend to put on the nuptialfetters. 

LETTER XII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY AFTERNOON. 

A letter received from the worthy Captain Tomlinson has introduced meinto the presence of my charmer sooner than perhaps I should otherwisehave been admitted. 

Sullen her brow, at her first entrance into the dining-room. But I tookno notice of what had passed, and her anger of itself subsided. 

'The Captain, after letting me know that he chose not to write till hehad promised the draught of the settlements, acquaint me, that his friendMr. John Harlowe, in their first conference (which was held as soon as hegot down) was extremely surprised, and even grieved (as he feared hewould be) to hear that we were not married. The world, he said, who knewmy character, would be very censorious, were it owned, that we had livedso long together unmarried in the same lodgings; although our marriagewere now to be ever so publicly celebrated. 

'His nephew James, he was sure, would make a great handle of it againstany motion that might be made towards a reconciliation; and with thegreater success, as there was not a family in the kingdom more jealous oftheir honour than theirs. '

This is true of the Harlowes, Jack: they have been called The proudHarlowes: and I have ever found, that all young honour is superciliousand touchy. 

But seest thou not how right I was in my endeavour to persuade my fair-one to allow her uncle's friend to think us married; especially as hecame prepared to believe it; and as her uncle hoped it was so?--Butnothing on earth is so perverse as a woman, when she is set upon carryinga point, and has a meek man, or one who loves his peace, to deal with. 

My beloved was vexed. She pulled out her handkerchief: but was moreinclined to blame me than herself. 

Had you kept your word, Mr. Lovelace, and left me when we came totown--And there she stopt; for she knew, that it was her own fault thatwe were not married before we left the country; and how could I leave herafterwards, while her brother was plotting to carry her off by violence?

Nor has this brother yet given over his machinations. 

For, as the Captain proceeds, 'Mr. John Harlowe owned to him (but inconfidence) that his nephew is at this time busied in endeavouring tofind out where we are; being assured (as I am not to be heard of at anyof my relations, or at my usual lodgings) that we are together. And thatwe are not married is plain, as he will have it, from Mr. Hickman'sapplication so lately made to her uncle; and which was seconded by Mrs. Norton to her mother. And her brother cannot bear that I should enjoysuch a triumph unmolested. '

A profound sigh, and the handkerchief again lifted to the eye. But didnot the sweet soul deserve this turn upon her, for feloniously resolvingto rob me of herself, had the application made by Hickman succeeded?

I read on to the following effect:

'Why (asked Mr. Harlowe) was it said to his other inquiring friend, thatwe were married; and that by his niece's woman, who ought to know? whocould give convincing reasons, no doubt'--

Here again she wept; took a turn across the room; then returned--Read on, says she--

Will you, my dearest life, read it yourself?

I will take the letter with me, by-and-by--I cannot see to read it justnow, wiping her eyes--read on--let me hear it all--that I may know yoursentiments upon this letter, as well as give my own. 

'The Captain then told uncle John the reasons that induced me to give outthat we were married; and the conditions on which my beloved was broughtto countenance it; which had kept us at the most punctilious distance. 

'But still Mr. Harlowe objected my character. And went awaydissatisfied. And the Captain was also so much concerned, that he carednot to write what the result of his first conference was. 

'But in the next, which was held on receipt of the draughts, at theCaptain's house, (as the former was, for the greater secrecy, ) when theold gentleman had read them, and had the Captain's opinion, he was muchbetter pleased. And yet he declared, that it would not be easy topersuade any other person of his family to believe so favourably of thematter, as he was now willing to believe, were they to know that we hadlived so long together unmarried. 

'And then the Captain says, his dear friend made a proposal:--It wasthis--That we should marry out of hand, but as privately as possible, asindeed he found we intended, (for he could have no objection to thedraughts)--but yet, he expected to have present one trusty friend of hisown, for his better satisfaction'--

Here I stopt, with a design to be angry--but she desiring me to read on, I obeyed. 

'--But that it should pass to every one living, except to that trustyperson, to himself, and to the Captain, that we were married from thetime that we had lived together in one house; and that this time shouldbe made to agree with that of Mr. Hickman's application to him from MissHowe. '

This, my dearest life, said I, is a very considerate proposal. We havenothing to do but to caution the people below properly on this head. Idid not think your uncle Harlowe capable of hitting upon such a charmingexpedient as this. But you see how much his heart is in thereconciliation. 

This was the return I met with--You have always, as a mark of yourpoliteness, let me know how meanly you think of every one in my family. 

Yet thou wilt think, Belford, that I could forgive her for the reproach. 

'The Captain does not know, says he, how this proposal will be relishedby us. But for his part, he thinks it an expedient that will obviatemany difficulties, and may possibly put an end to Mr. James Harlowe'sfurther designs: and on this account he has, by the uncle's advice, already declared to two several persons, by whose means it may come tothat young gentleman's, that he [Captain Tomlinson] has very great reasonto believe that we were married soon after Mr. Hickman's application wasrejected. 

'And this, Mr. Lovelace, (says the Captain, ) will enable you to pay acompliment to the family, that will not be unsuitable to the generosityof some of the declarations you were pleased to make to the lady beforeme, (and which Mr. John Harlowe may make some advantage of in favour of areconciliation, ) in that you were entitled to make the demand. ' Anexcellent contriver, surely, she must think this worthy Mr. Tomlinson tobe!

But the Captain adds, 'that if either the lady or I disapprove of hisreport of our marriage, he will retract it. Nevertheless, he must tellme, that Mr. John Harlowe is very much set upon this way of proceeding;as the only one, in his opinion, capable of being improved into a generalreconciliation. But if we do acquiesce in it, he beseeches my fair-onenot to suspend my day, that he may be authorized in what he says, as tothe truth of the main fact. [How conscientious this good man!] Nor mustit be expected, he says, that her uncle will take one step towards thewished-for reconciliation, till the solemnity is actually over. '

He adds, 'that he shall be very soon in town on other affairs; and thenproposes to attend us, and give us a more particular account of all thathas passed, or shall further pass, between Mr. Harlowe and him. '

Well, my dearest life, what say you to your uncle's expedient? Shall Iwrite to the Captain, and acquaint him, that we have no objection to it?

She was silent for a few minutes. At last, with a sigh, See, Mr. Lovelace, said she, what you have brought me to, by treading after you insuch crooked paths!--See what disgrace I have incurred!--Indeed you havenot acted like a wise man. 

My beloved creature, do you not remember, how earnestly I besought thehonour of your hand before we came to town?--Had I been then favoured--

Well, well, Sir; there has been much amiss somewhere; that's all I willsay at present. And since what's past cannot be recalled, my uncle mustbe obeyed, I think. 

Charmingly dutiful!--I had nothing then to do, that I might not bebehind-hand with the worthy Captain and her uncle, but to press for theday. This I fervently did. But (as I might have expected) she repeatedher former answer; to wit, That when the settlements were completed; whenthe license was actually obtained; it would be time enough to name theday: and, O Mr. Lovelace, said she, turning from me with a graceinimitably tender, her handkerchief at her eyes, what a happiness, if mydear uncle could be prevailed upon to be personally a father, on thisoccasion, to the poor fatherless girl!

What's the matter with me!--Whence this dew-drop!--A tear!--As I hope tobe saved, it is a tear, Jack!--Very ready methinks!--Only onreciting!--But her lovely image was before me, in the very attitude shespoke the words--and indeed at the time she spoke them, these lines ofShakespeare came into my head:

 Thy heart is big. Get thee apart and weep! Passion, I see, is catching:--For my eye, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Begin to water--

I withdrew, and wrote to the Captain to the following effect--'I desiredthat he would be so good as to acquaint his dear friend that we entirelyacquiesced with what he had proposed; and had already properly cautionedthe gentlewomen of the house, and their servants, as well as our own: andto tell him, That if he would in person give me the blessing of his dearniece's hand, it would crown the wishes of both. In this case, Iconsented, that his own day, as I presumed it would be a short one, should be ours: that by this means the secret would be with fewerpersons: that I myself, as well as he, thought the ceremony could not betoo privately performed; and this not only for the sake of the wise endhe had proposed to answer by it, but because I would not have Lord M. Think himself slighted; since that nobleman, as I had told him [theCaptain] had once intended to be our nuptial-father; and actually madethe offer; but that we had declined to accept of it, and that for noother reason than to avoid a public wedding; which his beloved niecewould not come into, while she was in disgrace with her friends. Butthat if he chose not to do us this honour, I wished that CaptainTomlinson might be the trusty person whom he would have be present on thehappy occasion. '

I showed this letter to my fair-one. She was not displeased with it. So, Jack, we cannot now move too fast, as to settlements and license: theday is her uncle's day, or Captain Tomlinson's, perhaps, as shall bestsuit the occasion. Miss Howe's smuggling scheme is now surely providedagainst in all events. 

But I will not by anticipation make thee a judge of all the benefits thatmay flow from this my elaborate contrivance. Why will these girls put meupon my master-strokes?

And now for a little mine which I am getting ready to spring. The firstthat I have sprung, and at the rate I go on (now a resolution, and now aremorse) perhaps the last that I shall attempt to spring. 

A little mine, I call it. But it may be attended with great effects. Ishall not, however, absolutely depend upon the success of it, having muchmore effectual ones in reserve. And yet great engines are often moved bysmall springs. A little spark falling by accident into a powder-magazine, hath done more execution in a siege, than an hundred cannon. 

Come the worst, the hymeneal torch, and a white sheet, must be my amendehonorable, as the French have it. 

LETTER XIII

MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. TUESDAY, JUNE 6. 

Unsuccessful as hitherto my application to you has been, I cannot for theheart of me forbear writing once more in behalf of this admirable woman:and yet am unable to account for the zeal which impels me to take herpart with an earnestness so sincere. 

But all her merit thou acknowledgest; all thy own vileness thouconfessest, and even gloriest in it: What hope then of moving so hardeneda man?--Yet, as it is not too late, and thou art nevertheless upon thecrisis, I am resolved to try what another letter will do. It is but mywriting in vain, if it do no good; and if thou wilt let me prevail, Iknowthou wilt hereafter think me richly entitled to thy thanks. 

To argue with thee would be folly. The case cannot require it. I willonly entreat thee, therefore, that thou wilt not let such an excellencelose the reward of her vigilant virtue. 

I believe there never were libertines so vile, but purposed, at somefuture period of their lives, to set about reforming: and let me beg ofthee, that thou wilt, in this great article, make thy future repentanceas easy, as some time hence thou wilt wish thou hadst made it. 

If thou proceedest, I have no doubt that this affair will end tragically, one way or another. It must. Such a woman must interest both gods andmen in her cause. But what I most apprehend is, that with her own hand, in resentment of the perpetrated outrage, she (like another Lucretia)will assert the purity of her heart: or, if her piety preserve her fromthis violence, that wasting grief will soon put a period to her days. And, in either case, will not the remembrance of thy ever-during guilt, and transitory triumph, be a torment of torments to thee?

'Tis a seriously sad thing, after all, that so fine a creature shouldhave fallen into such vile and remorseless hands: for, from thy cradle, as I have heard thee own, thou ever delightedst to sport with and tormentthe animal, whether bird or beast, that thou lovedst, and hadst a powerover. 

How different is the case of this fine woman from that of any other whomthou hast seduced!--I need not mention to thee, nor insist upon thestriking difference: justice, gratitude, thy interest, thy vows, allengaging thee; and thou certainly loving her, as far as thou art capableof love, above all her sex. She not to be drawn aside by art, or to bemade to suffer from credulity, nor for want of wit and discernment, (thatwill be another cutting reflection to so fine a mind as her's:) thecontention between you only unequal, as it is between naked innocence andarmed guilt. In every thing else, as thou ownest, her talents greatlysuperior to thine!--What a fate will her's be, if thou art not at lastovercome by thy reiterated remorses!

At first, indeed, when I was admitted into her presence, * (and till Iobserved her meaning air, and heard her speak, ) I supposed that she hadno very uncommon judgment to boast of: for I made, as I thought, but justallowances for her blossoming youth, and for that loveliness of person, and for that ease and elegance in her dress, which I imagined must havetaken up half her time and study to cultivate; and yet I had beenprepared by thee to entertain a very high opinion of her sense and herreading. Her choice of this gay fellow, upon such hazardous terms, (thought I, ) is a confirmation that her wit wants that maturity whichonly years and experience can give it. Her knowledge (argued I tomyself) must be all theory; and the complaisance ever consorting with anage so green and so gay, will make so inexperienced a lady at leastforbear to show herself disgusted at freedoms of discourse in which thosepresent of her own sex, and some of ours, (so learned, so well read, andso travelled, ) allow themselves. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter VII. 

In this presumption I ran on; and having the advantage, as I conceited, of all the company but you, and being desirous to appear in her eyes amighty clever fellow, I thought I showed away, when I said any foolishthings that had more sound than sense in them; and when I made sillyjests, which attracted the smiles of thy Sinclair, and the speciousPartington: and that Miss Harlowe did not smile too, I thought was owingto her youth or affectation, or to a mixture of both, perhaps to agreater command of her features. --Little dreamt I, that I was incurringher contempt all the time. 

But when, as I said, I heard her speak, which she did not till she hadfathomed us all; when I heard her sentiments on two or three subjects, and took notice of the searching eye, darting into the very inmost cellsof our frothy brains; by my faith, it made me look about me; and I beganto recollect, and be ashamed of all I had said before; in short, wasresolved to sit silent, till every one had talked round, to keep my follyin countenance. And then I raised the subjects that she could join in, and which she did join in, so much to the confusion and surprise of everyone of us!--For even thou, Lovelace, so noted for smart wit, repartee, and a vein of raillery, that delighteth all who come near thee, sattestin palpable darkness, and lookedst about thee, as well as we. 

One instance only of this shall I remind thee of. 

We talked of wit, and of it, and aimed at it, bandying it like a ballfrom one to another, and resting it chiefly with thee, who wert alwaysproud enough and vain enough of the attribute; and then more especiallyas thou hadst assembled us, as far as I know, principally to show thelady thy superiority over us; and us thy triumph over her. And thenTourville (who is always satisfied with with at second-hand; wit uponmemory: other men's wit) repeated some verses, as applicable to thesubject; which two of us applauded, though full of double entendre. Thou, seeing the lady's serious air on one of those repetitions, appliedst thyself to her, desiring her notions of wit: a quality, thousaidst, which every one prized, whether flowing from himself, or found inanother. 

Then it was that she took all our attention. It was a quality muchtalked of, she said, but, she believed, very little understood. Atleast, if she might be so free as to give her judgment of it from whathad passed in the present conversation, she must say, that wit with menwas one thing; with women another. 

This startled us all:--How the women looked!--How they pursed theirmouths; a broad smile the moment before upon each, from the verses theyhad heard repeated, so well understood, as we saw, by their looks! WhileI besought her to let us know, for our instruction, what wit with women:for such I was sure it ought to be with men. 

Cowley, she said, had defined it prettily by negatives. Thou desiredsther to repeat his definition. 

She did; and with so much graceful ease, and beauty, and propriety ofaccent, as would have made bad poetry delightful. 

 A thousand diff'rent shapes it bears; Comely in thousand shapes appears. 'Tis not a tale, 'tis not a jest, Admir'd with laughter at a feast, Nor florid talk, which must this title gain: The proofs of wit for ever must remain. Much less can that have any place At which a virgin hides her face. Such dross the fire must purge away:--'Tis just The author blush there, where the reader must. 

Here she stopt, looking round upon her upon us all with conscioussuperiority, as I thought. Lord, how we stared! Thou attemptedst togive us thy definition of wit, that thou mightest have something to say, and not seem to be surprised into silent modesty. 

But as if she cared not to trust thee with the subject, referring to thesame author as for his more positive decision, she thus, with the sameharmony of voice and accent, emphatically decided upon it. 

 Wit, like a luxurious vine, Unless to virtue's prop it join, Firm and erect, tow'rd heaven bound, Tho' it with beauteous leaves and pleasant fruit be crown'd, It lies deform'd, and rotting on the ground. 

If thou recollectest this part of the conversation, and how like fools welooked at one another; how much it put us out of conceit with ourselves, and made us fear her, when we found our conversation thus excluded fromthe very character which our vanity had made us think unquestionablyours; and if thou profitest properly by the recollection; thou wilt be ofmy mind, that there is not so much wit in wickedness as we had flatteredourselves there was. 

And after all, I have been of opinion ever since that conversation, thatthe wit of all the rakes and libertines down to little Johnny Hartop thepunster, consists mostly in saying bold and shocking things, with suchcourage as shall make the modest blush, the impudent laugh, and theignorant stare. 

And why dost thou think I mention these things, so mal-a-propos, as itmay seem!--Only, let me tell thee, as an instance (among many that mightbe given from the same evening's conversation) of this fine woman'ssuperiority in those talents which ennoble nature, and dignify hersex--evidenced not only to each of us, as we offended, but to theflippant Partington, and the grosser, but egregiously hypocriticalSinclair, in the correcting eye, the discouraging blush, in which wasmixed as much displeasure as modesty, and sometimes, as the occasioncalled for it, (for we were some of us hardened above the sense offeeling delicate reproof, ) by the sovereign contempt, mingled with adisdainful kind of pity, that showed at once her own conscious worth, andour despicable worthlessness. 

O Lovelace! what then was the triumph, even in my eye, and what is itstill upon reflection, of true jest, laughing impertinence, and anobscenity so shameful, even to the guilty, that they cannot hint at itbut under a double meaning!

Then, as thou hast somewhere observed, * all her correctives avowed by hereye. Not poorly, like the generality of her sex, affecting ignorance ofmeanings too obvious to be concealed; but so resenting, as to show eachimpudent laugher the offence given to, and taken by a purity, that hadmistaken its way, when it fell into such company. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter XLVIII. 

Such is the woman, such is the angel, whom thou hast betrayed into thypower, and wouldst deceive and ruin. ---Sweet creature! did she but knowhow she is surrounded, (as I then thought, as well as now think, ) andwhat is intended, how much sooner would death be her choice, than sodreadful a situation!--'And how effectually would her story, were itgenerally known, warn all the sex against throwing themselves into thepower of ours, let our vows, oaths, and protestations, be what theywill!'

But let me beg of thee, once more, my dear Lovelace, if thou hast anyregard for thine own honour, for the honour of thy family, for thy futurepeace, or for my opinion of thee, (who yet pretend not to be so muchmoved by principle, as by that dazzling merit which ought still more toattract thee, ) to be prevailed upon--to be--to be humane, that's all--only, that thou wouldst not disgrace our common humanity!

Hardened as thou art, I know that they are the abandoned people in thehouse who keep thee up to a resolution against her. O that the sagaciousfair-one (with so much innocent charity in her own heart) had not soresolutely held those women at distance!--that as she boarded there, shehad oftener tabled with them! Specious as they are, in a week's time, she would have seen through them; they could not have been always soguarded, as they were when they saw her but seldom, and when theyprepared themselves to see her; and she would have fled their house as aplace infected. And yet, perhaps, with so determined an enterprizer, this discovery might have accelerated her ruin. 

I know that thou art nice in thy loves. But are there not hundreds ofwomen, who, though not utterly abandoned, would be taken with thee formere personal regards! Make a toy, if thou wilt, of principle, withrespect to such of the sex as regard it as a toy; but rob not an angel ofthose purities, which, in her own opinion, constitute the differencebetween angelic and brutal qualities. 

With regard to the passion itself, the less of soul in either man orwoman, the more sensual are they. Thou, Lovelace, hast a soul, though acorrupted one; and art more intent (as thou even gloriest) upon thepreparative stratagem, that upon the end of conquering. 

See we not the natural bent of idiots and the crazed? The very appetiteis body; and when we ourselves are most fools, and crazed, then are wemost eager in these pursuits. See what fools this passion makes thewisest men! What snivellers, what dotards, when they suffer themselvesto be run away with by it!--An unpermanent passion! Since, if (ashamedof its more proper name) we must call it love, love gratified, is lovesatisfied--and where consent on one side adds to the obligation on theother. What then but remorse can follow a forcible attempt?

Do not even chaste lovers choose to be alone in their courtshippreparations, ashamed to have even a child to witness to their foolishactions, and more foolish expressions? Is this deified passion, in itsgreatest altitudes, fitted to stand the day? Do not the lovers, whenmutual consent awaits their wills, retire to coverts, and to darkness, tocomplete their wishes? And shall such a sneaking passion as this, whichcan be so easily gratified by viler objects, be permitted to debase thenoblest?

Were not the delays of thy vile purposes owing more to the awe which hermajestic virtue has inspired thee with, than to thy want of adroitness invillany? [I must write my free sentiments in this case; for have I notseen the angel?] I should be ready to censure some of thy contrivancesand pretences to suspend the expected day, as trite, stale, and (to me, who know thy intention) poor; and too often resorted to, as nothing comesof them to be gloried in; particularly that of Mennell, the vapourishlady, and the ready-furnished house. 

She must have thought so too, at times, and in her heart despised theefor them, or love thee (ungrateful as thou art!) to her misfortune; aswell as entertain hope against probability. But this would affordanother warning to the sex, were they to know her story; 'as it wouldshow them what poor pretences they must seem to be satisfied with, ifonce they put themselves into the power of a designing man. '

If trial only was thy end, as once was thy pretence, * enough surely hastthou tried this paragon of virtue and vigilance. But I knew thee toowell, to expect, at the time, that thou wouldest stop there. 'Men of ourcast put no other bound to their views upon any of the sex, than what wantof power compels them to put. ' I knew that from one advantage gained, thou wouldest proceed to attempt another. Thy habitual aversion towedlock too well I knew; and indeed thou avowest thy hope to bring her tocohabitation, in that very letter in which thou pretendest trial to bethy principal view. **

* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. ** Ibid. See also Letters XVI. And XVII. Of that volume. 

But do not even thy own frequent and involuntary remorses, when thou hasttime, place, company, and every other circumstance, to favour thee in thywicked design, convince thee, that there can be no room for a hope sopresumptuous?--Why then, since thou wouldest choose to marry her ratherthan lose her, wilt thou make her hate thee for ever?

But if thou darest to meditate personal trial, and art sincere in thyresolution to reward her, as she behaves in it, let me beseech thee toremove her from this vile house. That will be to give her and thyconscience fair play. So entirely now does the sweet deluded excellencedepend upon her supposed happier prospects, that thou needest not to fearthat she will fly from thee, or that she will wish to have recourse tothat scheme of Miss Howe, which has put thee upon what thou callest thymaster-strokes. 

But whatever be thy determination on this head; and if I write not intime, but that thou hast actually pulled off the mask; let it not be oneof the devices, if thou wouldest avoid the curses of every heart, andhereafter of thy own, to give her, no not for one hour, (be herresentment ever so great, ) into the power of that villanous woman, whohas, if possible, less remorse than thyself; and whose trade it is tobreak the resisting spirit, and utterly to ruin the heart unpractised inevil. --O Lovelace, Lovelace, how many dreadful stories could this horridwoman tell the sex! And shall that of a Clarissa swell the guilty list?

But this I might have spared. Of this, devil as thou art, thou canst notbe capable. Thou couldst not enjoy a triumph so disgraceful to thywicked pride, as well as to humanity. 

Shouldest thou think, that the melancholy spectacle hourly before me hasmade me more serious than usual, perhaps thou wilt not be mistaken. Butnothing more is to be inferred from hence (were I even to return to myformer courses) but that whenever the time of cool reflection comes, whether brought on by our own disasters, or by those of others, we shallundoubtedly, if capable of thought, and if we have time for it, think inthe same manner. 

We neither of us are such fools as to disbelieve a futurity, or to think, whatever be our practice, that we came hither by chance, and for no endbut to do all the mischief we have it in our power to do. Nor am Iashamed to own, that in the prayers which my poor uncle makes me read tohim, in the absence of a very good clergyman who regularly attends him, Ido not forget to put in a word or two for myself. 

If, Lovelace, thou laughest at me, thy ridicule will be more conformableto thy actions than to thy belief. --Devils believe and tremble. Canstthou be more abandoned than they?

And here let me add, with regard to my poor old man, that I often wishthee present but for one half hour in a day, to see the dregs of a gaylife running off in the most excruciating tortures that the cholic, thestone, and the surgeon's knife can unitedly inflict, and to hear himbewail the dissoluteness of his past life, in the bitterest anguish of aspirit every hour expecting to be called to its last account. --Yet, byall his confessions, he has not to accuse himself, in sixty-seven yearsof life, of half the very vile enormities which you and I have committedin the last seven only. 

I conclude with recommending to your serious consideration all I havewritten, as proceeding from the heart and soul of

Your assured friend, JOHN BELFORD

LETTER XIV

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY AFTERNOON, JUNE 6. 

Difficulties still to be got over in procuring this plaguy license. Iever hated, and ever shall hate, these spiritual lawyers, and theircourt. 

And now, Jack, if I have not secured victory, I have a retreat. 

But hold--thy servant with a letter--

***

A confounded long one, though not a narrative one--Once more in behalf ofthis lady?--Lie thee down, oddity! What canst thou write that can haveforce upon me at this crisis?--And have I not, as I went along, made theeto say all that was necessary for thee to say?

***

Yet once more I will take thee up. 

Trite, stale, poor, (sayest thou, ) are some of my contrivances; that ofthe widow particularly!--I have no patience with thee. Had not thatcontrivance its effect at that time, for a procrastination? and had I notthen reason to fear, that the lady would find enough to make her dislikethis house? and was it not right (intending what I intended) to lead heron from time to time with a notion that a house of her own would be readyfor her soon, in order to induce her to continue here till it was?

Trite, stale, and poor!--Thou art a silly fellow, and no judge, when thousayest this. Had I not, like a blockhead, revealed to thee, as I wentalong, the secret purposes of my heart, but had kept all in till the eventhad explained my mysteries, I would have defied thee to have been able, any more than the lady, to have guessed at what was to befall her, tillit had actually come to pass. Nor doubt I, in this case, that, insteadof presuming to reflect upon her for credulity, as loving me to hermisfortune, and for hoping against probability, thou wouldest have beenreadier, by far, to censure her for nicety and over-scrupulousness. And, let me tell thee, that had she loved me a I wished her to love me, shecould not possibly have been so very apprehensive of my designs, nor soready to be influenced by Miss Howe's precautions, as she has alwaysbeen, although my general character made not for me with her. 

But, in thy opinion, I suffer for that simplicity in my contrivances, which is their principal excellence. No machinery make I necessary. Nounnatural flights aim I at. All pure nature, taking advantage of nature, as nature tends; and so simple my devices, that when they are known, thou, even thou, imaginest thou couldest have thought of the same. Andindeed thou seemest to own, that the slight thou puttest upon them isowing to my letting thee into them before-hand--undistingushing as wellas ungrateful as thou art!

Yet, after all, I would not have thee think that I do not know my weakplaces. I have formerly told thee, that it is difficult for the ablestgeneral to say what he will do, or what he can do, when he is obliged toregulate his motions by those of a watchful enemy. * If thou givest dueweight to this consideration, thou wilt not wonder that I should makemany marches and countermarches, some of which may appear, to a slightobserver, unnecessary. 

* See Vol. III. Letter XXXIX. 

But let me cursorily enter into debate with thee on this subject, now Iam within sight of my journey's end. 

Abundance of impertinent things thou tellest me in this letter; some ofwhich thou hadst from myself; others that I knew before. 

All that thou sayest in this charming creature's praise is short of whatI have said and written on the inexhaustible subject. 

Her virtue, her resistance, which are her merits, are my stimulatives. Have I not told thee so twenty times over?

Devil, as these girls between them call me, what of devil am I, but in mycontrivances? I am not more a devil than others in the end I aim at; forwhen I have carried my point, it is still but one seduction. And I haveperhaps been spared the guilt of many seductions in the time. 

What of uncommon would there be in this case, but for herwatchfulness!--As well as I love intrigue and stratagem, dost think thatI had not rather have gained my end with less trouble and less guilt?

The man, let me tell thee, who is as wicked as he can be, is a worse manthan I am. Let me ask any rake in England, if, resolving to carry hispoint, he would have been so long about it? or have had so muchcompunction as I have had?

Were every rake, nay, were every man, to sit down, as I do, and write allthat enters into his head, or into his heart, and to accuse himself withequal freedom and truth, what an army of miscreants should I have to keepme in countenance!

It is a maxim with some, that if they are left alone with a woman, andmake not an attempt upon her, she will think herself affronted--Are notsuch men as these worse than I am? What an opinion must they have of thewhole sex!

Let me defend the sex I so dearly love. If these elder brethren of oursthink they have general reason for their assertion, they must have keptvery bad company, or must judge of women's hearts by their own. She mustbe an abandoned woman, who will not shrink as a snail into its shell at agross and sudden attempt. A modest woman must be naturally cold, reserved, and shy. She cannot be so much and so soon affected aslibertines are apt to imagine. She must, at least, have some confidencein the honour and silence of a man, before desire can possibly put forthin her, to encourage and meet his flame. For my own part, I have beenalways decent in the company of women, till I was sure of them. Nor haveI ever offered a great offence, till I have found little ones passedover; and that they shunned me not, when they knew my character. 

My divine Clarissa has puzzled me, and beat me out of my play: at onetime, I hope to overcome by intimidating her; at another, by love; by theamorous see-saw, as I have called it. * And I have only now to joinsurprise to the other two, and see what can be done by all three. 

* See Vol. III. Letter XVI. 

And whose property, I pray thee, shall I invade, if I pursue my schemesof love and vengeance? Have not those who have a right to her renouncedthat right? Have they not wilfully exposed her to dangers? Yet mustknow, that such a woman would be considered as lawful prize by as many ascould have the opportunity to attempt her?--And had they not thus cruellyexposed her, is she not a single woman? And need I tell thee, Jack, thatmen of our cast, the best of them [the worst stick at nothing] think it agreat grace and favour done to the married men, if they leave them theirwives to themselves; and compound for their sisters, daughters, wardsand nieces? Shocking as these principles must be to a reflecting mind, yet such thou knowest are the principles of thousands (who would not actso generously as I have acted by almost all of the sex, over whom I haveobtained a power); and as often carried into practice, as theiropportunities or courage will permit. --Such therefore have no right toblame me. 

Thou repeatedly pleadest her sufferings from her family. But I have toooften answered this plea, to need to say any more now, than that she hasnot suffered for my sake. For has she not been made the victim of themalice of her rapacious brother and envious sister, who only waited foran occasion to ruin her with her other relations; and took this as thefirst to drive her out of the house; and, as it happened, into my arms?--Thou knowest how much against her inclination. 

As for her own sins, how many has the dear creature to answer for to loveand to me!--Twenty times, and twenty times twenty, has she not told me, that she refused not the odious Solmes in favour to me? And as often hasshe not offered to renounce me for the single life, if the implacableswould have received her on that condition?--Of what repetitions does thyweak pity make me guilty?

To look a litter farther back: Canst thou forget what my sufferings werefrom this haughty beauty in the whole time of my attendance upon herproud motions, in the purlieus of Harlowe-place, and at the little WhiteHart, at Neale, as we called it?--Did I not threaten vengeance upon herthen (and had I not reason?) for disappointing me of a promisedinterview?

O Jack! what a night had I in the bleak coppice adjoining to her father'spaddock! My linen and wig frozen; my limbs absolutely numbed; my fingersonly sensible of so much warmth as enabled me to hold a pen; and thatobtained by rubbing the skin off, and by beating with my hands myshivering sides! Kneeling on the hoar moss on one knee, writing on theother, if the stiff scrawl could be called writing! My feet, by the timeI had done, seeming to have taken root, and actually unable to support mefor some minutes!--Love and rage then kept my heart in motion, [and onlylove and rage could do it, ] or how much more than I did suffer must Ihave suffered!

I told thee, at my melancholy return, what were the contents of theletter I wrote. * And I showed thee afterwards her tyrannical answer toit. ** Thou, then, Jack, lovedst thy friend; and pitiedst thy poorsuffering Lovelace. Even the affronted God of Love approved then of mythreatened vengeance against the fair promiser; though of the night of mysufferings, he is become an advocate for her. 

* See Vol. II. Letter XX. ** Ibid. 

Nay, was it not he himself that brought to me my adorable Nemesis; andboth together put me upon this very vow, 'That I would never rest till Ihad drawn in this goddess-daughter of the Harlowes to cohabit with me;and that in the face of all their proud family?'

Nor canst thou forget this vow. At this instant I have thee before me, as then thou sorrowfully lookedst. Thy strong features glowing withcompassion for me; thy lips twisted; thy forehead furrowed; thy wholeface drawn out from the stupid round into the ghastly oval; every musclecontributing its power to complete the aspect grievous; and not one wordcouldst thou utter, but Amen! to my vow. 

And what of distinguishing love, or favour, or confidence, have I hadfrom her since, to make me forego this vow!

I renewed it not, indeed, afterwards; and actually, for a long season, was willing to forget it; till repetitions of the same faults revived theremembrance of the former. And now adding to those the contents of someof Miss Howe's virulent letters, so lately come at, what canst thou sayfor the rebel, consistent with thy loyalty to thy friend?

Every man to his genius and constitution. Hannibal was called The fatherof warlike stratagems. Had Hannibal been a private man, and turned hisplotting head against the other sex; or had I been a general, and, turnedmine against such of my fellow-creatures of my, own, as I thought myselfentitled to consider as my enemies, because they were born and lived in adifferent climate; Hannibal would have done less mischief; Lovelacemore. --That would have been the difference. 

Not a sovereign on earth, if he be not a good man, and if he be of awarlike temper, but must do a thousand times more mischief than I. Andwhy? Because he has it in his power to do more. 

An honest man, perhaps thou'lt say, will not wish to have it in his powerto do hurt. He ought not, let me tell him: for, if he have it, athousand to one but it makes him both wanton and wicked. 

In what, then, am I so singularly vile?

In my contrivances thou wilt say, (for thou art my echo, ) if not in myproposed end of them. 

How difficult does every man find it, as well as I, to forego apredominant passion! I have three passions that sway me by turns; allimperial ones--love, revenge, ambition or a desire of conquest. 

As to this particular contrivance of Tomlinson and the uncle, whichperhaps thou wilt think a black one; that had been spared, had not theseinnocent ladies put me upon finding a husband for their Mrs. Townsend:that device, therefore, is but a preventive one. Thinkest thou that Icould bear to be outwitted? And may not this very contrivance save aworld of mischief? for dost thou think I would have tamely given up thelady to Townsend's tars?

What meanest thou, except to overthrow thy own plea, when thou sayest, that men of our cast know no other bound to their wickedness, but want ofpower; yet knowest this lady to be in mine?

Enough, sayest thou, have I tried this paragon of virtue. Not so; for Ihave not tried her at all--all I have been doing is but preparation to atrial. 

But thou art concerned for the means that I may have recourse to in thetrial, and for my veracity. 

Silly fellow!--Did ever any man, thinkest thou, deceive a woman, but atthe expense of his veracity; how, otherwise, can he be said to deceive?

As to the means, thou dost not imagine that I expect a direct consent. My main hope is but in a yielding reluctance; without which I will besworn, whatever rapes have been attempted, none ever were committed, oneperson to one person. And good Queen Bess of England, had she beenliving, and appealed to, would have declared herself of my mind. 

It would not be amiss for the sex to know what our opinions are upon thissubject. I love to warn them. I wish no man to succeed with them butmyself. I told thee once, that though a rake, I am not a rake's friend. *

* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. 

Thou sayest, that I ever hated wedlock. And true thou sayest. And yetas true, when thou tellest me, that I would rather marry than lose thislady. And will she detest me for ever, thinkest thou, if I try her, andsucceed not?--Take care--take care, Jack!--Seest thou not that thouwarnest me that I do not try without resolving to conquer?

I must add, that I have for some time been convinced that I have donewrong to scribble to thee so freely as I have done (and the more so, if Imake the lady legally mine); for has not every letter I have written tothee been a bill of indictment against myself? I may partly curse myvanity for it; and I think I will refrain for the future; for thou artreally very impertinent. 

A good man, I own, might urge many of the things thou urgest; but, by mysoul, they come very awkwardly from thee. And thou must be sensible, that I can answer every tittle of what you writest, upon the foot of themaxims we have long held and pursued. --By the specimen above, thou wiltsee that I can. 

And pr'ythee tell me, Jack, what but this that follows would have beenthe epitome of mine and my beloved's story, after ten years'cohabitation, had I never written to thee upon the subject, and had I notbeen my own accuser?

'Robert Lovelace, a notorious woman-eater, makes his addresses in anhonourable way to Miss Clarissa Harlowe; a young lady of the highestmerit--fortunes on both sides out of the question. 

'After encouragement given, he is insulted by her violent brother; whothinks it his interest to discountenance the match; and who at lastchallenging him, is obliged to take his worthless life at his hands. 

'The family, as much enraged, as if he had taken the life he gave, insulthim personally, and find out an odious lover for the young lady. 

'To avoid a forced marriage, she is prevailed upon to take a step whichthrows her into Mr. Lovelace's protection. 

'Yet, disclaiming any passion for him, she repeatedly offers to renouncehim for ever, if, on that condition, her relations will receive her, andfree her from the address of the man she hates. 

'Mr. Lovelace, a man of strong passions, and, as some say, of greatpride, thinks himself under very little obligation to her on thisaccount; and not being naturally fond of marriage, and having so muchreason to hate her relations, endeavours to prevail upon her to live withhim what he calls the life of honour; and at last, by stratagem, art, andcontrivance, prevails. 

'He resolves never to marry any other woman: takes a pride to have hercalled by his name: a church-rite all the difference between them: treatsher with deserved tenderness. Nobody questions their marriage but thoseproud relations of her's, whom he wishes to question it. Every year acharming boy. Fortunes to support the increasing family with splendor. A tender father. Always a warm friend; a generous landlord; and apunctual paymaster. Now-and-then however, perhaps, indulging with a newobject, in order to bring him back with greater delight to his charmingClarissa--his only fault, love of the sex--which, nevertheless, the womensay, will cure itself--defensible thus far, that he breaks no contractsby his rovings. '--

And what is there so very greatly amiss, AS THE WORLD GOES, in all this?

Let me aver, that there are thousands and ten thousands, who have worsestories to tell than this would appear to be, had I not interested theein the progress to my great end. And besides, thou knowest that thecharacter I gave myself to Joseph Leman, as to my treatment of mymistress, is pretty near the truth. *

* See Vol. III. Letter XLVIII. 

Were I to be as much in earnest in my defence, as thou art warm in myarraignment, I could convince thee, by other arguments, observations, andcomparisons, [Is not all human good and evil comparative?] that thoughfrom my ingenuous temper (writing only to thee, who art master of everysecret of my heart) I am so ready to accuse myself in my narrations, yetI have something to say for myself to myself, as I go along; though noone else, perhaps, that was not a rake, would allow any weight to it. --And this caution might I give to thousands, who would stoop for a stoneto throw at me: 'See that your own predominant passions, whatever theybe, hurry you not into as much wickedness as mine do me. See, if yehappen to be better than I in some things, that ye are not worse inothers; and in points too, that may be of more extensive bad consequence, than that of seducing a girl, (and taking care of her afterwards, ) who, from her cradle, is armed with cautions against the delusions of men. 'And yet I am not so partial to my own follies as to think lightly of thisfault, when I allow myself to think. 

Another grave thing I will add, now my hand is in: 'So dearly do I lovethe sex, that had I found that a character for virtue had been generallynecessary to recommend me to them, I should have had a much greaterregard to my morals, as to the sex, than I have had. '

To sum all up--I am sufficiently apprized, that men of worthy and honesthearts, who never allowed themselves in premeditated evil, and who takeinto the account the excellencies of this fine creature, will and mustnot only condemn, but abhor me, were they to know as much of me as thoudost. But, methinks, I would be glad to escape the censure of those men, and of those women too, who have never known what capital trials andtemptations are; of those who have no genius for enterprise; of those whowant rather courage than will; and most particularly of those who haveonly kept their secret better than I have kept, or wish to keep, mine. Were those exceptions to take place, perhaps, Jack, I should have ten toacquit to one that should condemn me. Have I not often said, that humannature is a rogue?

***

I threatened above to refrain writing to thee. But take it not to heart, Jack--I must write on, and cannot help it. 

LETTER XV

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. WEDNESDAY NIGHT, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. 

Faith, Jack, thou hadst half undone me with thy nonsense, though I wouldnot own it on my yesterday's letter: my conscience of thy party before. --But I think I am my own man again. 

So near to execution my plot; so near springing my mine; all agreed uponbetween the women and me; or I believe thou hadst overthrown me. 

I have time for a few lines preparative to what is to happen in an houror two; and I love to write to the moment. 

We have been extremely happy. How many agreeable days have we knowntogether!--What may the next two hours produce. 

When I parted with my charmer, (which I did, with infinite reluctance, half an hour ago, ) it was upon her promise that she would not sit up towrite or read. For so engaging was the conversation to me, (and indeedmy behaviour throughout the whole of it was confessedly agreeable toher, ) that I insisted, if she did not directly retire to rest, that sheshould add another happy hour to the former. 

To have sat up writing or reading half the night, as she sometimes does, would have frustrated my view, as thou wilt observe, when my little plotunravels. 

***

What--What--What now!--Bounding villain! wouldst thou choke me?--

I was speaking to my heart, Jack!--It was then at my throat. --And what isall this for?--These shy women, how, when a man thinks himself near themark, do they tempest him!

***

Is all ready, Dorcas? Has my beloved kept her word with me?--Whether arethese billowy heavings owing more to love or to fear? I cannot tell, forthe soul of me, of which I have most. If I can but take her before herapprehension, before her eloquence, is awake--

Limbs, why thus convulsed?--Knees, till now so firmly knit, why thusrelaxed? why beat you thus together? Will not these trembling fingers, which twice have refused to direct the pen, fail me in the arduousmoment?

Once again, why and for what all these convulsions? This project is notto end in matrimony, surely!

But the consequences must be greater than I had thought of till thismoment--my beloved's destiny or my own may depend upon the issue of thetwo next hours!

I will recede, I think!--

***

Soft, O virgin saint, and safe as soft, be thy slumbers!

I will now once more turn to my friend Belford's letter. Thou shalt havefair play, my charmer. I will reperuse what thy advocate has to say forthee. Weak arguments will do, in the frame I am in!--

But, what, what's the matte!--What a double--But the uproar abates!--Whata double coward am I!--Or is it that I am taken in a cowardly minute? forheroes have their fits of fear; cowards their brave moments; and virtuouswomen, all but my Clarissa, their moment critical--

But thus coolly enjoying the reflection in a hurricane!--Again theconfusion is renewed--

What! Where!--How came it!

Is my beloved safe--

O wake not too roughly, my beloved!

LETTER XVI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY MORNING, FIVE O'CLOCK, (JUNE 8. )

Now is my reformation secure; for I never shall love any other woman! Oh!she is all variety! She must ever be new to me! Imagination cannotform; much less can the pencil paint; nor can the soul of painting, poetry, describe an angel so exquisitely, so elegantly lovely!--But Iwill not by anticipation pacify thy impatience. Although the subject istoo hallowed for profane contemplation, yet shalt thou have the wholebefore thee as it passed: and this not from a spirit wantoning indescription upon so rich a subject; but with a design to put a bound tothy roving thoughts. It will be iniquity, greater than a Lovelace wasever guilty of, to carry them farther than I shall acknowledge. 

Thus then, connecting my last with the present, I lead to it. 

Didst thou not, by the conclusion of my former, perceive theconsternation I was in, just as I was about to reperuse thy letter, inorder to prevail upon myself to recede from my purpose of awaking interrors my slumbering charmer? And what dost think was the matter?

I'll tell thee--

At a little after two, when the whole house was still, or seemed to beso, and, as it proved, my Clarissa in bed, and fast asleep; I also in amanner undressed (as indeed I was for an hour before) and in my gown andslippers, though, to oblige thee, writing on!--I was alarmed by atrampling noise over head, and a confused buz of mixed voices, somelouder than others, like scolding, and little short of screaming. WhileI was wondering what could be the matter, down stairs ran Dorcas, and atmy door, in an accent rather frightedly and hoarsely inward than shrillyclamorous, she cried out Fire! Fire! And this the more alarmed me, asshe seemed to endeavour to cry out louder, but could not. 

My pen (its last scrawl a benediction on my beloved) dropped from myfingers; and up started I; and making but three steps to the door, opening it, cried out, Where! Where! almost as much terrified as thewench; while she, more than half undrest, her petticoats in her hand, unable to speak distinctly, pointed up stairs. 

I was there in a moment, and found all owing to the carelessness of Mrs. Sinclair's cook-maid, who having sat up to read the simple History ofDorastus and Faunia, when she should have been in bed, had set fire to anold pair of calico window-curtains. 

She had had the presence of mind, in her fright, to tear down the half-burnt vallens, as well as curtains, and had got them, though blazing, into the chimney, by the time I came up; so that I had the satisfactionto find the danger happily over. 

Mean time Dorcas, after she had directed me up stairs, not knowing theworst was over, and expecting every minute the house would be in a blaze, out of tender regard for her lady, [I shall for ever love the wench forit, ] ran to her door, and rapping loudly at it, in a recovered voice, cried out, with a shillness equal to her love, Fire! Fire! The house ison fire!--Rise, Madam!--This instant rise--if you would not be burnt inyour bed!

No sooner had she made this dreadful out-cry, but I heard her lady'sdoor, with hasty violence, unbar, unbolt, unlock, and open, and mycharmer's voice sounding like that of one going into a fit. 

Thou mayest believe that I was greatly affected. I trembled with concernfor her, and hastened down faster than the alarm of fire had made me runup, in order to satisfy her that all the danger was over. 

When I had flown down to her chamber-door, there I beheld the mostcharming creature in the world, supporting herself on the arm of thegasping Dorcas, sighing, trembling, and ready to faint, with nothing onbut an under petticoat, her lovely bosom half open, and her feet justslipped into her shoes. As soon as she saw me, she painted, andstruggled to speak; but could only say, O Mr. Lovelace! and down wasready to sink. 

I clasped her in my arms with an ardour she never felt before: My dearestlife! fear nothing: I have been up--the danger is over--the fire is gotunder--and how, foolish devil, [to Dorcas, ] could you thus, by yourhideous yell, alarm and frighten my angel!

O Jack! how her sweet bosom, as I clasped her to mine, heaved and panted!I could even distinguish her dear heart flutter, flutter, against mine;and, for a few minutes, I feared she would go into fits. 

Lest the half-lifeless charmer should catch cold in this undress, Ilifted her to her bed, and sat down by her upon the side of it, endeavouring with the utmost tenderness, as well of action as expression, to dissipate her terrors. 

But what did I get by this my generous care of her, and my successfulendeavour to bring her to herself?--Nothing (ungrateful as she was!) butthe most passionate exclamations: for we had both already forgotten theoccasion, dreadful as it was, which had thrown her into my arms: I, fromthe joy of encircling the almost disrobed body of the loveliest of hersex; she, from the greater terrors that arose from finding herself in myarms, and both seated on the bed, from which she had been so latelyfrighted. 

And now, Belford, reflect upon the distance at which the watchful charmerhad hitherto kept me: reflect upon my love, and upon my sufferings forher: reflect upon her vigilance, and how long I had laid in wait to eludeit; the awe I had stood in, because of her frozen virtue andover-niceness; and that I never before was so happy with her; and thenthink how ungovernable must be my transports in those happy moments!--Andyet, in my own account, I was both decent and generous. 

But, far from being affected, as I wished, by an address so fervent, (although from a man from whom she had so lately owned a regard, and withwhom, but an hour or two before, she had parted with so muchsatisfaction, ) I never saw a bitterer, or more moving grief, when shecame fully to herself. 

She appealed to Heaven against my treachery, as she called it; while I, by the most solemn vows, pleaded my own equal fright, and the reality ofthe danger that had alarmed us both. 

She conjured me, in the most solemn and affecting manner, by turnsthreatening and soothing, to quit her apartment, and permit her to hideherself from the light, and from every human eye. 

I besought her pardon, yet could not avoid offending; and repeatedlyvowed, that the next morning's sun should witness our espousals. Buttaking, I suppose, all my protestations of this kind as an indicationthat I intended to proceed to the last extremity, she would hear nothingthat I said; but, redoubling her struggles to get from me, in brokenaccents, and exclamations the most vehement, she protested, that shewould not survive what she called a treatment so disgraceful andvillanous; and, looking all wildly round her, as if for some instrumentof mischief, she espied a pair of sharp-pointed scissors on a chair bythe bed-side, and endeavoured to catch them up, with design to make herwords good on the spot. 

Seeing her desperation, I begged her to be pacified; that she would hearme speak but one word; declaring that I intended no dishonour to her: andhaving seized the scissors, I threw them into the chimney; and she stillinsisting vehemently upon my distance, I permitted her to take the chair. 

But, O the sweet discomposure!--Her bared shoulders, and arms soinimitably fair and lovely: her spread hands crossed over her charmingneck; yet not half concealing its glossy beauties: the scanty coat, asshe rose from me, giving the whole of her admirable shape, and fine-turn'd limbs: her eyes running over, yet seeming to threaten futurevengeance:and at last her lips uttering what every indignant look and glowingfeature portended: exclaiming as if I had done the worst I could do, andvowing never to forgive me; wilt thou wonder if I resumed the incensed, the already too-much-provoked fair-one?

I did; and clasped her once more to my bosom: but, considering thedelicacy of her frame, her force was amazing, and showed how much inearnest she was in her resentment; for it was with the utmost difficultythat I was able to hold her: nor could I prevent her sliding through myarms, to fall upon her knees: which she did at my feet: and there in theanguish of her soul, her streaming eyes lifted up to my face withsupplicating softness, hands folded, dishevelled hair; for her nighthead-dress having fallen off in her struggling, her charming tresses felldown in naturally shining ringlets, as if officious to conceal thedazzling beauties of her neck and shoulders; her lovely bosom too heavingwith sighs, and broken sobs, as if to aid her quivering lips in pleadingfor her--in this manner, but when her grief gave way to her speech, inwords pronounced with that emphatical propriety, which distinguishes thisadmirable creature in her elocution from all the women I ever heardspeak, did she implore my compassion and my honour. 

'Consider me, dear Lovelace, ' [dear was her charming word!] 'on my kneesI beg you to consider me as a poor creature who has no protector but you;who has no defence but your honour: by that honour! by your humanity! byall you have vowed! I conjure you not to make me abhor myself! not tomake me vile in my own eyes!'

I mentioned to-morrow as the happiest day of my life. 

Tell me not of to-morrow. If indeed you mean me honourably, now, thisvery instant NOW! you must show it, and be gone! you can never in a wholelong life repair the evils you NOW make me suffer!

Wicked wretch!--Insolent villain!--yes, she called me insolent villain, although so much in my power! And for what!--only for kissing (withpassion indeed) her inimitable neck, her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, and her streaming eyes, as this assemblage of beauties offered itself atonce to my ravished sight; she continuing kneeling at my feet as I sat. 

If I am a villain, Madam!--And then my grasping, but trembling hand--Ihope I did not hurt the tenderest and loveliest of all her beauties--If Iam a villain, Madam--

She tore my ruffle, shrunk from my happy hand, with amazing force andagility, as with my other arm I would have encircled her waist. 

Indeed you are!--the worst of villains!--Help! dear, blessed people! andscreamed out--No help for a poor creature!

Am I then a villain, Madam?--Am I then a villain, say you?--and claspedboth my arms about her, offering to raise her to my bounding heart. 

Oh! no!--And yet you are!--And again I was her dear Lovelace!--her handsagain clasped over her charming bosom:--Kill me! kill me!--if I am odiousenough in your eyes to deserve this treatment: and I will thank you!--Toolong, much too long has my life been a burden to me!--Or, (wildly lookingall round her, ) give me but the means, and I will instantly convince youthat my honour is dearer to me than my life!

Then, with still folded hands, and fresh streaming eyes, I was herblessed Lovelace; and she would thank me with her latest breath if Iwould permit her to make that preference, or free her from fartherindignities. 

I sat suspended for a moment: by my soul, thought I, thou art, upon fullproof, an angel and no woman! still, however, close clasping her to mybosom, as I raised her from her knees, she again slid through my arms, and dropped upon them. --'See, Mr. Lovelace!--Good God! that I should liveto see this hour, and to bear this treatment!--See at your feet a poorcreature, imploring your pity; who, for your sake, is abandoned of allthe world. Let not my father's curse thus dreadfully operate! be not youthe inflicter, who have been the cause of it: but spare me, I beseechyou, spare me!--for how have I deserved this treatment from you? for yourown sake, if not for my sake, and as you would that God Almighty, in yourlast hour, should have mercy upon you, spare me!'

What heart but must have been penetrated!

I would again have raised the dear suppliant from her knees; but shewould not be raised, till my softened mind, she said, had yielded to herprayer, and bid her rise to be innocent. 

Rise then, my angel! rise, and be what you are, and all you wish to be!only pronounce me pardoned for what has passed, and tell me you willcontinue to look upon me with that eye of favour and serenity which Ihave been blessed with for some days past, and I will submit to mybeloved conqueress, whose power never was at so great an height with me, as now, and retire to my apartment. 

God Almighty, said she, hear your prayers in your most arduous moments, as you have heard mine! and now leave me, this moment leave me, to my ownrecollection: in that you will leave me to misery enough, and more thanyou ought to wish to your bitterest enemy. 

Impute not every thing, my best beloved, to design, for design it wasnot--

O Mr. Lovelace!

Upon my soul, Madam, the fire was real--[and so it was, Jack!]--Thehouse, my dearest life, might have been consumed by it, as you will beconvinced in the morning by ocular demonstration. 

O Mr. Lovelace!--

Let my passion for you, Madam, and the unexpected meeting of you at yourchamber-door, in an attitude so charming--

Leave me, leave me, this moment!--I beseech you leave me; looking wildlyand in confusion about her, and upon herself. 

Excuse me, my dearest creature, for those liberties which, innocent asthey were, your too great delicacy may make you take amiss--

No more! no more!--leave me, I beseech you! again looking upon herself, and round her, in a sweet confusion--Begone! begone!

Then weeping, she struggled vehemently to withdraw her hands, which allthe while I held between mine. --Her struggles!--O what additional charms, as I now reflect, did her struggles give to every feature, every limb, ofa person so sweetly elegant and lovely!

Impossible, my dearest life, till you pronounce my pardon!--Say but youforgive me!--say but you forgive me!

I beseech you to be gone! leave me to myself, that I may think what I cando, and what I ought to do. 

That, my dearest creature, is not enough. You must tell me that I amforgiven; that you will see me to-morrow as if nothing had happened. 

And then I clasped her again in my arms, hoping she would not forgiveme--

I will--I do forgive you--wretch that you are!

Nay, my Clarissa! and is it such a reluctant pardon, mingled with a wordso upbraiding, that I am to be put off with, when you are thus (claspingher close to me) in my power?

I do, I do forgive you!

Heartily?

Yes, heartily!

And freely?

Freely!

And will you look upon me to-morrow as if nothing had passed?

Yes, yes!

I cannot take these peevish affirmatives, so much like intentionalnegatives!--Say, you will, upon your honour. 

Upon my honour, then--Oh! now, begone! begone!--and never never--

What! never, my angel!--Is this forgiveness?

Never, said she, let what has passed be remembered more!

I insisted upon one kiss to seal my pardon--and retired like a fool, awoman's fool, as I was!--I sneakingly retired!--Couldst thou havebelieved it?

But I had no sooner entered my own apartment, than reflecting upon theopportunity I had lost, and that all I had gained was but an increase ofmy own difficulties; and upon the ridicule I should meet with below upona weakness so much out of my usual character; I repented, and hastenedback, in hope that, through the distress of mind which I left her in, shehad not so soon fastened the door; and I was fully resolved to executeall my purposes, be the consequence what it would; for, thought I, I havealready sinned beyond cordial forgiveness, I doubt; and if fits anddesperation ensue, I can but marry at last, and then I shall make heramends. 

But I was justly punished; for her door was fast: and hearing her sighand sob, as if her heart would burst, My beloved creature, said I, rapping gently, [the sobbings then ceasing, ] I want but to say threewords to you, which must be the most acceptable you ever heard from me. Let me see you out for one moment. 

I thought I heard her coming to open the door, and my heart leapt in thathope; but it was only to draw another bolt, to make it still the faster;and she either could not or would not answer me, but retired to thefarther end of her apartment, to her closet, probably; and, more like afool than before, again I sneaked away. 

This was mine, my plot! and this was all I made of it!--I love her morethan ever!--And well I may!--never saw I polished ivory so beautiful asher arms and shoulders; never touched I velvet so soft as her skin: hervirgin bosom--O Belford, she is all perfection! then such an elegance!--In her struggling losing her shoe, (but just slipt on, as I told thee, )her pretty foot equally white and delicate as the hand of any otherwoman, or even her own hand!

But seest thou not that I have a claim of merit for a grace that everybody hitherto had denied me? and that is for a capacity of being moved byprayers and tears--Where, where, on this occasion, was the callous, wherethe flint, by which my heart was said to be surrounded?

This, indeed, is the first instance, in the like case, that ever I waswrought upon. But why? because, I never before encountered a resistanceso much in earnest: a resistance, in short, so irresistible. 

What a triumph has her sex obtained in my thoughts by this trial, andthis resistance?

But if she can now forgive me--can!--she must. Has she not upon herhonour already done it?--But how will the dear creature keep that part ofher promise which engages her to see me in the morning as if nothing hadhappened?

She would give the world, I fancy, to have the first interview over!--Shehad not best reproach me--yet not to reproach me!--what a charmingpuzzle!--Let her break her word with me at her peril. Fly me shecannot--no appeals lie from my tribunal--What friend has she in theworld, if my compassion exert not itself in her favour?--and then theworthy Captain Tomlinson, and her uncle Harlowe, will be able to make allup for me, be my next offence what it may. 

As to thy apprehensions of her committing any rashness upon herself, whatever she might have done in her passion, if she could have seizedupon her scissors, or found any other weapon, I dare say there is no fearof that from her deliberate mind. A man has trouble enough with thesetruly pious, and truly virtuous girls; [now I believe there are such;] hehad need to have some benefit from, some security in, the rectitude oftheir minds. 

In short, I fear nothing in this lady but grief: yet that's a slowworker, you know; and gives time to pop in a little joy between itssullen fits. 

LETTER XVII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY MORNING, EIGHT O'CLOCK. 

Her chamber-door has not yet been opened. I must not expect she willbreakfast with me. Nor dine with me, I doubt. A little silly soul, whattroubles does she make to herself by her over-niceness!--All I have doneto her, would have been looked upon as a frolic only, a romping bout, andlaughed off by nine parts in ten of the sex accordingly. The more shemakes of it, the more painful to herself, as well as to me. 

Why now, Jack, were it not better, upon her own notions, that she seemednot so sensible as she will make herself to be, if she is very angry?

But perhaps I am more afraid than I need. I believe I am. From herover-niceness arises my fear, more than from any extraordinary reason forresentment. Next time, she may count herself very happy, if she come offno worse. 

The dear creature was so frightened, and so fatigued, last night, nowonder she lies it out this morning. 

I hope she has had more rest than I have had. Soft and balmy, I hope, have been her slumbers, that she may meet me in tolerable temper. Allsweetly blushing and confounded--I know how she will look!--But whyshould she, the sufferer, be ashamed, when I, the trespasser, am not?

But custom is a prodigious thing. The women are told how much theirblushes heighten their graces: they practise for them therefore: blushescome as hastily when they call for them, as their tears: aye, that's it!While we men, taking blushes for a sign of guilt or sheepishness, areequally studious to suppress them. 

***

By my troth, Jack, I am half as much ashamed to see the women below, asmy fair-one can be to see me. I have not yet opened my door, that I maynot be obtruded upon my them. 

After all, what devils may one make of the sex! To what a height of--what shall I call it?--must those of it be arrived, who once loved a manwith so much distinction, as both Polly and Sally loved me; and yet canhave got so much above the pangs of jealousy, so much above themortifying reflections that arise from dividing and sharing with newobjects the affections of them they prefer to all others, as to wish for, and promote a competitorship in his love, and make their supreme delightconsist in reducing others to their level!--For thou canst not imagine, how even Sally Martin rejoiced last night in the thought that the lady'shour was approaching. 

PAST TEN O'CLOCK. 

I never longed in my life for any thing with so much impatience as to seemy charmer. She has been stirring, it seems, these two hours. 

Dorcas just now tapped at her door, to take her morning commands. 

She had none for her, was the answer. 

She desired to know, if she would not breakfast?

A sullen and low-voiced negative received Dorcas. 

I will go myself. 

***

Three different times tapped I at the door, but had no answer. 

Permit me, dearest creature, to inquire after your health. As you havenot been seen to-day, I am impatient to know how you do. 

Not a word of answer; but a deep sigh, even to sobbing. 

Let me beg of you, Madam, to accompany me up another pair of stairs--you'll rejoice to see what a happy escape we have all had. 

A happy escape indeed, Jack!--For the fire had scorched the window-board, singed the hangings, and burnt through the slit-deal linings of thewindow-jambs. 

No answer, Madam!--Am I not worthy of one word?--Is it thus you keep yourpromise with me?--Shall I not have the favour of your company for twominutes [only for two minutes] in the dining-room?

Hem!--and a deep sigh!--were all the answer. 

Answer me but how you do! Answer me but that you are well! Is this theforgiveness that was the condition of my obedience?

Then, with a faintish, but angry voice, begone from my door!--Wretch!inhuman, barbarous, and all that is base and treacherous! begone from mydoor! Nor tease thus a poor creature, entitled to protection, notoutrage. 

I see, Madam, how you keep your word with me--if a sudden impulse, theeffects of an unthought-of accident, cannot be forgiven--

O the dreadful weight of a father's curse, thus in the very letter ofit--

And then her voice dying away in murmurs inarticulate, I looked throughthe key-hole, and saw her on her knees, her face, though not towards me, lifted up, as well as hands, and these folded, depreciating, I suppose, that gloomy tyrant's curse. 

I could not help being moved. 

My dearest life! admit me to your presence but for two minutes, andconfirm your promised pardon; and may lightning blast me on the spot, ifI offer any thing but my penitence, at a shrine so sacred!--I willafterwards leave you for a whole day; till to-morrow morning; and thenattend you with writings, all ready to sign, a license obtained, or if itcannot, a minister without one. This once believe me! When you see thereality of the danger that gave occasion for this your unhappyresentment, you will think less hardly of me. And let me beseech you toperform a promise on which I made a reliance not altogether ungenerous. 

I cannot see you! Would to Heaven I never had! If I write, that's all Ican do. 

Let your writing then, my dearest life, confirm your promise: and I willwithdraw in expectation of it. 

PAST ELEVEN O'CLOCK. 

She rung her bell for Dorcas; and, with her door in her hand, only halfopened, gave her a billet for me. 

How did the dear creature look, Dorcas?

She was dressed. She turned her face quite from me; and sighed, as ifher heart would break. 

Sweet creature:--I kissed the wet wafer, and drew it from the paper withmy breath. 

These are the contents. --No inscriptive Sir! No Mr. Lovelace!

I cannot see you: nor will I, if I can help it. Words cannot express theanguish of my sou on your baseness and ingratitude. 

If the circumstances of things are such, that I can have no way forreconciliation with those who would have been my natural protectors fromsuch outrages, but through you, [the only inducement I have to stay amoment longer in your knowledge, ] pen and ink must be, at present, theonly means of communication between us. 

Vilest of men, and most detestable of plotters! how have I deserved fromyou the shocking indignities--but no more--only for your own sake, wishnot, at least for a week to come, to see

The undeservedly injured and insultedCLARISSA HARLOWE

***

So thou seest, nothing could have stood me in stead, but this plot ofTomlinson and her uncle! To what a pretty pass, nevertheless, have Ibrought myself!--Had Caesar been such a fool, he had never passed therubicon. But after he had passed it, had he retreated re infecta, intimidated by a senatorial edict, what a pretty figure would he havemade in history!--I might have known, that to attempt a robbery, and puta person in bodily fear, is as punishable as if the robbery had beenactually committed. 

But not to see her for a week!--Dear, pretty soul! how she anticipates mein every thing! The counsellor will have finished the writings to-day orto-morrow, at furthest: the license with the parson, or the parsonwithout the license, must also be procured within the next four-and-twenty hours; Prtichard is as good as ready with his indenturestripartite: Tomlinson is at hand with a favourable answer from her uncle--yet not to see her for a week!----Dear sweet soul;--her good angel isgone a journey: is truanting at least. But nevertheless, in thy week'stime, or in much less, my charmer, I doubt not to complete my triumph!

But what vexes me of all things is, that such an excellent creatureshould break her word:--Fie, fie, upon her!--But nobody is absolutelyperfect! 'Tis human to err, but not to persevere--I hope my charmercannot be inhuman!

LETTER XVIII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. KING'S ARMS, PALL-MALL, THURSDAY, TWO O'CLOCK. 

Several billets passed between us before I went out, by theinternuncioship of Dorcas: for which reason mine are superscribed by hermarried name. --She would not open her door to receive them; lest I shouldbe near it, I suppose: so Dorcas was forced to put them under the door(after copying them for thee); and thence to take the answers. Readthem, if thou wilt, at this place. 

***

TO MRS. LOVELACE

Indeed, my dearest life, you carry this matter too far. What will thepeople below, who suppose us one as to the ceremony, think of so great aniceness? Liberties so innocent! the occasion so accidental!--You willexpose yourself as well as me. --Hitherto they know nothing of what haspassed. And what indeed has passed to occasion all this resentment?--Iam sure you will not, by a breach of your word of honour, give me reasonto conclude that, had I not obeyed you, I could have fared no worse. 

Most sincerely do I repent the offence given to your delicacy--But mustI, for so accidental an occurrence, be branded by such shocking names?--Vilest of men, and most detestable of plotters, are hard words!--From thepen of such a lady too. 

If you step up another pair of stairs, you will be convinced, that, however detestable I may be to you, I am no plotter in this affair. 

I must insist upon seeing you, in order to take your directions upon someof the subjects we talked of yesterday in the evening. 

All that is more than necessary is too much. I claim your promisedpardon, and wish to plead it on my knees. 

I beg your presence in the dining-room for one quarter of an hour, and Iwill then leave you for the day, I am, My dearest life, Your ever adoring and truly penitentLOVELACE. 

***

TO MR. LOVELACE

I will not see you. I cannot see you. I have no directions to give you. Let Providence decide for me as it pleases. 

The more I reflect upon your vileness, your ungrateful, your barbarousvileness, the more I am exasperated against you. 

You are the last person whose judgment I will take upon what is or is notcarried too far in matters of decency. 

'Tis grievous to me to write, or even to think of you at present. Urgeme no more then. Once more, I will not see you. Nor care I, now youhave made me vile to myself, what other people think of me. 

***

TO MRS. LOVELACE

Again, Madam, I remind you of your promise: and beg leave to say, Iinsist upon the performance of it. 

Remember, dearest creature, that the fault of a blameable person cannotwarrant a fault in one more perfect. Overniceness may be underniceness!

I cannot reproach myself with any thing that deserves this highresentment. 

I own that the violence of my passion for you might have carried mebeyond fit bounds--but that your commands and adjurations had power overme at such a moment, I humbly presume to say, deserves someconsideration. 

You enjoin me not to see you for a week. If I have not your pardonbefore Captain Tomlinson comes to town, what shall I say to him?

I beg once more your presence in the dining-room. By my soul, Madam, Imust see you. 

I want to consult you about the license, and other particulars of greatimportance. The people below think us married; and I cannot talk to youupon such subjects with the door between us. 

For Heaven's sake, favour me with your presence for a few minutes: and Iwill leave you for the day. 

If I am to be forgiven, according to your promise, the earlierforgiveness will be most obliging, and will save great pain to yourself, as well as to

Your truly contrite and afflictedLOVELACE. 

***

TO MR. LOVELACE

The more you tease me, the worse it will be for you. 

Time is wanted to consider whether I ever should think of you at all. 

At present, it is my sincere wish, that I may never more see your face. 

All that can afford you the least shadow of favour from me, arises fromthe hoped-for reconciliation with my real friends, not my Judasprotector. 

I am careless at present of consequences. I hate myself: And who is it Ihave reason to value?--Not the man who could form a plot to disgrace hisown hopes, as well as a poor friendless creature, (made friendless byhimself, ) by insults not to be thought of with patience. 

***

TO MRS. LOVELACE

MADAM, I will go to the Commons, and proceed in every particular as if I had notthe misfortune to be under your displeasure. 

I must insist upon it, that however faulty my passion, on so unexpectedan incident, made me appear to a lady of your delicacy, yet my compliancewith your entreaties at such a moment [as it gave you an instance of yourpower over me, which few men could have shown] ought, duly considered, toentitle me to the effects of that solemn promise which was the conditionof my obedience. 

I hope to find you in a kinder, and, I will say, juster disposition on myreturn. Whether I get the license, or not, let me beg of you to make thesoon you have been pleased to bid me hope for, to-morrow morning. Thiswill reconcile every thing, and make me the happiest of men. 

The settlements are ready to sign, or will be by night. 

For Heaven's sake, Madam, do not carry your resentment into a displeasureso disproportionate to the offence. For that would be to expose us bothto the people below; and, what is of infinite more consequence to us, toCaptain Tomlinson. Let us be able, I beseech you, Madam, to assure him, on his next visit, that we are one. 

As I have no hope to be permitted to dine with you, I shall not returntill evening: and then, I presume to say, I expect [your promiseauthorizes me to use the word] to find you disposed to bless, by yourconsent for to-morrow, Your adoringLOVELACE. 

***

What pleasure did I propose to take, how to enjoy the sweet confusion inwhich I expected to find her, while all was so recent!--But she must, sheshall, see me on my return. It were better to herself, as well as forme, that she had not made so much ado about nothing. I must keep my angeralive, lest it sink into compassion. Love and compassion, be theprovocation ever so great, are hard to be separated: while anger convertswhat would be pity, without it, into resentment. Nothing can be lovelyin a man's eye with which he is thoroughly displeased. 

I ordered Dorcas, on putting the last billet under the door, and findingit taken up, to tell her, that I hoped an answer to it before I went out. 

Her reply was verbal, tell him that I care not whither he goes, nor whathe does. --And this, re-urged by Dorcas, was all she had to say to me. 

I looked through the key-hole at my going by her door, and saw her on herknees, at her bed's feet, her head and bosom on the bed, her armsextended; [sweet creature how I adore her!] and in an agony she seemed tobe, sobbing, as I heard at that distance, as if her heart would break. --By my soul, Jack, I am a pityful fellow! Recollection is my enemy!--Divine excellence!--Happy with her for so many days together! Now sounhappy!--And for what?--But she is purity herself. And why, after all, should I thus torment--but I must not trust myself with myself, in thehumour I am in. 

***

Waiting here for Mowbray and Mallory, by whose aid I am to get thelicense, I took papers out of my pocket, to divert myself; and thy lastpopt officiously the first into my hand. I gave it the honour of are-perusal; and this revived the subject with me, with which I hadresolved not to trust myself. 

I remember, that the dear creature, in her torn answer to my proposals, says, condescension is not meanness. She better knows how to make thisout, than any mortal breathing. Condescension indeed implies dignity:and dignity ever was there in her condescension. Yet such a dignity asgave grace to the condescension; for there was no pride, no insult, noapparent superiority, indicated by it. --This, Miss Howe confirms to be apart of her general character. *

* See Vol. IV. Letter XXIII. 

I can tell her, how she might behave, to make me her own for ever. Sheknows she cannot fly me. She knows she must see me sooner or later; thesooner the more gracious. --I would allow her to resent [not because theliberties I took with her require resentment, were she not a CLARISSA;but as it becomes her particular niceness to resent]: but would she showmore love than abhorrence of me in her resentment; would she seem, if itwere but to seem, to believe the fire no device, and all that followedmerely accidental; and descend, upon it, to tender expostulation, andupbraiding for the advantage I would have taken of her surprise; andwould she, at last, be satisfied (as well she may) that it was attendedwith no further consequence; and place some generous confidence in myhonour, [power loves to be trusted, Jack;] I think I would put an end toall her trials, and pay her my vows at the altar. 

Yet, to have taken such bold steps, as with Tomlinson and her uncle--tohave made such a progress--O Belford, Belford, how I have puzzled myself, as well as her!--This cursed aversion to wedlock how it has entangledme!--What contradictions has it made me guilty of!

How pleasing to myself, to look back upon the happy days I gave her;though mine would doubtless have been unmixedly so, could I havedetermined to lay aside my contrivances, and to be as sincere all thetime, as she deserved that I should be!

If I find this humour hold but till to-morrow morning, [and it has nowlasted two full hours, and I seem, methinks, to have pleasure inencouraging it, ] I will make thee a visit, I think, or get thee to cometo me; and then will I--consult thee upon it. 

But she will not trust me. She will not confide in my honour. Doubt, inthis case, is defiance. She loves me not well enough to forgive megenerously. She is so greatly above me! How can I forgive her for amerit so mortifying to my pride! She thinks, she knows, she has told me, that she is above me. These words are still in my ears, 'Be gone, Lovelace!--My soul is above thee, man!--Thou hast a proud heart tocontend with!--My soul is above thee, man!'* Miss Howe thinks her aboveme too. Thou, even thou, my friend, my intimate friend and companion, art of the same opinion. Then I fear her as much as I love her. --Howshall my pride bear these reflections? My wife (as I have often said, because it so often recurs to my thoughts) to be so much my superior!--Myself to be considered but as the second person in my own family!--Canstthou teach me to bear such a reflection as this!--To tell me of myacquisition in her, and that she, with all her excellencies, will be minein full property, is a mistake--it cannot be so--for shall I not beher's; and not my own?--Will not every act of her duty (as I cannotdeserve it) be a condescension, and a triumph over me?--And must I oweit merely to her goodness that she does not despise me?--To have hercondescend to bear with my follies!--To wound me with an eye of pity!--Adaughter of the Harlowes thus to excel the last, and as I have heretoforesaid, not the meanest of the Lovelaces**--forbid it!

* See Vol. IV. Letter XLVII. ** See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. 

Yet forbid it not--for do I not now--do I not every moment--see herbefore me all over charms, and elegance and purity, as in the strugglesof the past midnight? And in these struggles, heart, voice, eyes, hand, and sentiments, so greatly, so gloriously consistent with the charactershe has sustained from her cradle to the present hour?

But what advantages do I give thee?

Yet have I not always done her justice? Why then thy teasingimpertinence?

However, I forgive thee, Jack--since (so much generous love am I capableof!) I had rather all the world should condemn me, than that hercharacter should suffer the least impeachment. 

The dear creature herself once told me, that there was a strange mixturein my mind. * I have been called Devil and Beelzebub, between the twoproud beauties: I must indeed be a Beelzebub, if I had not some tolerablequalities. 

* See Vol. III. Letter XXXIII. 

But as Miss Howe says, the suffering time of this excellent creature isher shining time. * Hitherto she has done nothing but shine. 

* See Vol. IV. Letter XXIII. 

She called me villain, Belford, within these few hours. And what is thesum of the present argument; but that had I not been a villain in hersense of the word, she had not been such an angel?

O Jack, Jack! This midnight attempt has made me mad; has utterly undoneme! How can the dear creature say, I have made her vile in her own eyes, when her behaviour under such a surprise, and her resentment under suchcircumstances, have so greatly exalted her in mine?

Whence, however, this strange rhapsody?--Is it owing to my being here?That I am not at Sinclair's? But if there be infection in that house, how has my beloved escaped it?

But no more in this strain!--I will see what her behaviour will be on myreturn--yet already do I begin to apprehend some little sinkings, somelittle retrogradations: for I have just now a doubt arisen, whether, forher own sake, I should wish her to forgive me lightly, or withdifficulty?

***

I am in a way to come at the wished-for license. 

I have now given every thing between my beloved and me a fullconsideration; and my puzzle is over. What has brought me to a speedierdetermination is, that I think I have found out what she means by theweek's distance at which she intends to hold me. It is, that she mayhave time to write to Miss Howe, to put in motion that cursed scheme ofher's, and to take measures upon it which shall enable her to abandon andrenounce me for ever. Now, Jack, if I obtain not admission to herpresence on my return; but am refused with haughtiness; if her week beinsisted upon (such prospects before her); I shall be confirmed in myconjecture; and it will be plain to me, that weak at best was that love, which could give place to punctilio, at a time when that all-reconcilingceremony, as she must think, waits her command:--then will I recollectall her perversenesses; then will I re-peruse Miss Howe's letters, andthe transcripts from others of them; give way to my aversion to the lifeof shackles: and then shall she be mine in my own way. 

But, after all, I am in hopes that she will have better considered ofevery thing by the evening; that her threat of a week's distance wasthrown out in the heat of passion; and that she will allow, that I haveas much cause to quarrel with her for breach of her word, as she has withme for breach of the peace. 

These lines of Rowe have got into my head; and I shall repeat them verydevoutly all the way the chairman shall poppet me towards her by-and-by. 

 Teach me, some power, the happy art of speech, To dress my purpose up in gracious words; Such as may softly steal upon her soul, And never waken the tempestuous passions. 

LETTER XIX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 8. 

O for a curse to kill with!--Ruined! Undone! Outwitted!Tricked!--Zounds, man, the lady has gone off!--Absolutely gone off!Escaped!--

Thou knowest not, nor canst conceive, the pangs that wring my heart!--What can I do!--O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!

And thou, too, who hast endeavoured to weaken my hands, wilt but clap thydragon's wings at the tidings!

Yet I must write, or I shall go distracted! Little less have I beenthese two hours; dispatching messengers to every stage, to every inn, toevery waggon or coach, whether flying or creeping, and to every housewith a bill up, for five miles around. 

The little hypocrite, who knows not a soul in this town, [I thought I wassure of her at any time, ] such an unexperienced traitress--giving me hopetoo, in her first billet, that her expectation of the family-reconciliation would withhold her from taking such a step as this--curseupon her contrivances!--I thought, that it was owing to her bashfulness, to her modesty, that, after a few innocent freedoms, she could not lookme in the face; when, all the while, she was impudently [yes, I say, impudently, though she be Clarissa Harlowe] contriving to rob me of thedearest property I had ever purchased--purchased by a painful servitudeof many months; fighting through the wild-beasts of her family for her, and combating with a wind-mill virtue, which hath cost me millions ofperjuries only to attempt; and which now, with its damn'd air-fans, hastost me a mile and a half beyond hope!--And this, just as I had arrivedwithin view of the consummation of all my wishes!

O Devil of Love! God of Love no more--how have I deserved this ofthee!--Never before the friend of frozen virtue?--Powerless demon, forpowerless thou must be, if thou meanedest not to frustrate my hopes; whoshall henceforth kneel at thy altars!--May every enterprising heartabhor, despise, execrate, renounce thee, as I do!--But, O Belford, Belford, what signifies cursing now!

***

How she could effect this her wicked escape is my astonishment; the wholesisterhood having charge of her;--for, as yet, I have not had patienceenough to inquire into the particulars, nor to let a soul of themapproach me. 

Of this I am sure, or I had not brought her hither, there is not acreature belonging to this house, that could be corrupted either byvirtue or remorse: the highest joy every infernal nymph, of this worsethan infernal habitation, could have known, would have been to reducethis proud beauty to her own level. --And as to my villain, who also hadcharge of her, he is such a seasoned varlet, that he delights in mischieffor the sake of it: no bribe could seduce him to betray his trust, werethere but wickedness in it!--'Tis well, however, he was out of my waywhen the cursed news was imparted to me!--Gone, the villain! in quest ofher: not to return, nor to see my face [so it seems he declared] till hehas heard some tidings of her; and all the out-of-place varlets of hisnumerous acquaintance are summoned and employed in the same business. 

To what purpose brought I this angel (angel I must yet call her) to thishellish house?--And was I not meditating to do her deserved honour? Bymy soul, Belford, I was resolved--but thou knowest what I hadconditionally resolved--And now, who can tell into what hands she mayhave fallen!

I am mad, stark mad, by Jupiter, at the thoughts of this!--Unprovided, destitute, unacquainted--some villain, worse than myself, who adores hernot as I adore her, may have seized her, and taken advantage of herdistress!--Let me perish, Belford, if a whole hecatomb of innocents, asthe little plagues are called, shall atone for the broken promises andwicked artifices of this cruel creature!

***

Going home, as I did, with resolutions favourable to her, judge thou ofmy distraction, when her escape was first hinted to me, although but inbroken sentences. I knew not what I said, nor what I did. I wanted tokill somebody. I flew out of one room into another, who broke the matterto me. I charged bribery and corruption, in my first fury, upon all; andthreatened destruction to old and young, as they should come in my way. 

Dorcas continues locked up from me: Sally and Polly have not yet dared toappear: the vile Sinclair--

But here comes the odious devil. She taps at the door, thought that'sonly a-jar, whining and snuffling, to try, I suppose, to coax me intotemper. 

***

What a helpless state, where a man can only execrate himself and others;the occasion of his rage remaining; the evil increasing upon reflection;time itself conspiring to deepen it!--O how I curs'd her!

I have her now, methinks, before me, blubbering--how odious does sorrowmake an ugly face!--Thine, Jack, and this old beldam's, in penitentials, instead of moving compassion, must evermore confirm hatred; while beautyin tears, is beauty heightened, and what my heart has ever delighted tosee. ----

'What excuse!--Confound you, and your cursed daughters, what excuse canyou make?--Is she not gone--Has she not escaped?--But before I am quitedistracted, before I commit half a hundred murders, let me hear how itwas. '----

***

I have heard her story!--Art, damn'd, confounded, wicked, unpardonableart, is a woman of her character--But show me a woman, and I'll show theea plotter!--This plaguy sex is art itself: every individual of it is aplotter by nature. 

This is the substance of the old wretch's account. 

She told me, 'That I had no sooner left the vile house, than Dorcasacquainted the syren' [Do, Jack, let me call her names!--I beseech thee, Jack, to permit me to call her names!] 'that Dorcas acquainted her ladywith it; and that I had left word, that I was gone to doctors-commons, and should be heard of for some hours at the Horn there, if inquiredafter by the counsellor, or anybody else: that afterwards I should beeither at the Cocoa-tree, or King's-Arms, and should not return tilllate. She then urged her to take some refreshment. 

'She was in tears when Dorcas approached her; her saucy eyes swelled withweeping: she refused either to eat or drink; sighed as if her heart wouldbreak. '--False, devilish grief! not the humble, silent, grief, that onlydeserves pity!--Contriving to ruin me, to despoil me of all that I heldvaluable, in the very midst of it. 

'Nevertheless, being resolved not to see me for a week at least, sheordered her to bring up three or four French rolls, with a little butter, and a decanter of water; telling her, she would dispense with herattendance; and that should be all she should live upon in the interim. So artful creature! pretending to lay up for a week's siege. '--For, as tosubstantial food, she, no more than other angels--Angels! said I--thedevil take me if she be any more an angel!--for she is odious in my eyes;and I hate her mortally!

But O Lovelace, thou liest!--She is all that is lovely. All that isexcellent!

But is she, can she be gone!--Oh! how Miss Howe will triumph!--But ifthat little fury receive her, fate shall make me rich amends; for thenwill I contrive to have them both. 

I was looking back for connection--but the devil take connection; I haveno business with it: the contrary best befits distraction, and that willsoon be my lot!

'Dorcas consulted the old wretch about obeying her: O yes, by all means;for Mr. Lovelace knew how to come at her at any time: and directed abottle of sherry to be added. 

'This cheerful compliance so obliged her, that she was prevailed upon togo up, and look at the damage done by the fire; and seemed not onlyshocked by it, but, as they thought, satisfied it was no trick; as sheowned she had at first apprehended it to be. All this made them secure;and they laughed in their sleeves, to think what a childish way ofshowing her resentment she had found out; Sally throwing out herwitticisms, that Mrs. Lovelace was right, however, not to quarrel withher bread and butter. '

Now this very childishness, as they imagined it, in such a genius, wouldhave made me suspect either her head, after what had happened the nightbefore; or her purpose, when the marriage was (so far as she knew) to becompleted within the week in which she was resolved to secrete herselffrom me in the same house. 

'She sent Will. With a letter to Wilson's, directed to Miss Howe, ordering him to inquire if there were not one for her there. 

'He only pretended to go, and brought word there was none; and put herletter in his pocket for me. 

'She then ordered him to carry another (which she gave him) to the HornTavern to me. --All this done without any seeming hurry: yet she appearedto be very solemn; and put her handkerchief frequently to her eyes. 

'Will. Pretended to come to me with this letter. But thou the dog hadthe sagacity to mistrust something on her sending him out a second time;(and to me, whom she had refused to see;) which he thought extraordinary;and mentioned his mistrusts to Sally, Polly, and Dorcas; yet they madelight of his suspicions; Dorcas assuring them all, that her lady seemedmore stupid with her grief, than active; and that she really believed shewas a little turned in her head, and knew not what she did. But all ofthem depended upon her inexperience, her open temper, and upon her notmaking the least motion towards going out, or to have a coach or chaircalled, as sometimes she had done; and still more upon the preparationsshe had made for a week's siege, as I may call it. 

'Will. Went out, pretending to bring the letter to me; but quicklyreturned; his heart still misgiving him, on recollecting my frequentcautions, that he was not to judge for himself, when he had positiveorders; but if any doubt occurred, from circumstances I could notforesee, literally to follow them, as the only way to avoid blame. 

'But it must have been in this little interval, that she escaped; forsoon after his return, they made fast the street-door and hatch, themother and the two nymphs taking a little turn into the garden; Dorcasgoing up stairs, and Will. (to avoid being seen by his lady, or his voiceheard) down into the kitchen. 

'About half an hour after, Dorcas, who had planted herself where shecould see her lady's door open, had the curiosity to go look through thekeyhole, having a misgiving, as she said, that the lady might offer someviolence to herself, in the mood she had been in all day; and finding thekey in the door, which was not very usual, she tapped at it three or fourtimes, and having no answer, opened it, with Madam, Madam, did you call?--Supposing her in her closet. 

'Having no answer, she stept forward, and was astonished to find she wasnot there. She hastily ran into the dining-room, then into myapartments; searched every closet; dreading all the time to behold somesad catastrophe. 

'Not finding her any where, she ran down to the old creature, and hernymphs, with a Have you seen my lady?--Then she's gone!--She's no whereabove!

'They were sure she could not be gone out. 

'The whole house was in an uproar in an instant; some running up-stairs, some down, from the upper rooms to the lower; and all screaming, Howshould they look me in the face!

'Will. Cried out, he was a dead man: he blamed them; they him; and everyone was an accuser, and an excuser, at the same time. 

'When they had searched the whole house, and every closet in it, tentimes over, to no purpose, they took it into their heads to send to allthe porters, chairmen, and hackney-coachmen, that had been near the housefor two hours past, to inquire if any of them saw such a young lady;describing her. 

'This brought them some light: the only dawning for hope, that I canhave, and which keeps me from absolute despair. One of the chairmen gavethem this account: That he saw such a one come out of the house a littlebefore four (in a great hurry, and as if frighted) with a little parceltied up in a handkerchief, in her hand: that he took notice to hisfellow, who plied her without her answering, that she was a fine younglady: that he'd warrant, she had either a husband, or very cross parents;for that her eyes seemed swelled with crying. Upon which, a third fellowreplied, that it might be a doe escaped from mother Damnable's park. This Mrs. Sinclair told me with a curse, and a wish that she had a betterreputation; so handsomely as she lived, and so justly as she paid everybody for what she bought; her house visited by the best and civilest ofgentlemen; and no noise or brawls ever heard or known in it. 

'From these appearances, the fellow who gave this information, had thecuriosity to follow her, unperceived. She often looked back. Every bodywho passed her, turned to look after her; passing their verdict upon hertears, her hurry, and her charming person; till coming to a stand ofcoaches, a coachman plied her; was accepted; alighted; opened thecoach-door in a hurry, seeing her hurry; and in it she stumbled forhaste; and, as the fellow believed, hurt her shin with the stumble. '

The devil take me, Belford, if my generous heart is not moved for her, notwithstanding her wicked deceit, to think what must be her reflectionsand apprehensions at the time:--A mind so delicate, heeding no censures;yet, probably afraid of being laid hold of by a Lovelace in every one shesaw! At the same time, not knowing to what dangers she was about toexpose herself; nor of whom she could obtain shelter; a stranger to thetown, and to all its ways; the afternoon far gone: but little money; andno clothes but those she had on!

It is impossible, in this little interval since last night, that MissHowe's Townsend could be co-operating. 

But how she must abhor me to run all these risques; how heartily she mustdetest me for my freedoms of last night! Oh! that I had given hergreater reason for a resentment so violent!--As to her virtue, I am toomuch enraged to give her the merit due to that. To virtue it cannot beowing that she should fly from the charming prospects that were beforeher; but to malice, hatred, contempt, Harlowe pride, (the worst ofpride, ) and to all the deadly passions that ever reigned in a femalebreast--and if I can but recover her--But be still, be calm, be hushed, my stormy passions; for is it not Clarissa [Harlowe must I say?] thatthus far I rave against?

'The fellow heard her say, drive fast! very fast! Where, Madam? ToHolborn-bars, answered she; repeating, Drive very fast!--And up shepulled both the windows: and he lost sight of the coach in a minute. 

'Will. , as soon as he had this intelligence, speeded away in hopes totrace her out; declaring, that he would never think of seeing me, till hehad heard some tidings of his lady. '

And now, Belford, all my hope is, that this fellow (who attended us inour airing to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill, to Kentish-town)will hear of her at some one or other of those places. And on this I therather build, as I remember she was once, after our return, veryinquisitive about the stages, and their prices; praising the conveniencyto passengers in their going off every hour; and this in Will. 's hearing, who was then in attendance. Woe be to the villain, if he recollect notthis!

***

I have been traversing her room, meditating, or taking up every thing shebut touched or used: the glass she dressed at, I was ready to break, fornot giving me the personal image it was wont to reflect of her, whoseidea is for ever present with me. I call for her, now in the tenderest, now in the most reproachful terms, as if within hearing: wanting her, Iwant my own soul, at least every thing dear to it. What a void in myheart! what a chilness in my blood, as if its circulation was arrested!From her room to my own; in the dining-room, and in and out of everyplace where I have seen the beloved of my heart, do I hurry; in none canI tarry; her lovely image in every one, in some lively attitude, rushingcruelly upon me, in differently remembered conversations. 

But when in my first fury, at my return, I went up two pairs of stairs, resolved to find the locked-up Dorcas, and beheld the vainly-burntwindow-board, and recollected my baffled contrivances, baffled by my ownweak folly, I thought my distraction completed; and down I ran as onefrighted at a spectre, ready to howl for vexation; my head and my templesshooting with a violence I had never felt before; and my back aching asif the vertebrae were disjointed, and falling in pieces. 

But now that I have heard the mother's story, and contemplated thedawning hopes given by the chairman's information, I am a good dealeasier, and can make cooler reflections. Most heartily pray I forWill. 's success, every four or five minutes. If I lose her, all my ragewill return with redoubled fury. The disgrace to be thus outwitted by anovice, an infant in stratagem and contrivance, added to the violence ofmy passion for her, will either break my heart, or (what saves many aheart, in evils insupportable) turn my brain. What had I to do to go outa license-hunting, at least till I had seen her, and made up matters withher? And indeed, were it not the privilege of a principal to lay all hisown faults upon his underlings, and never be to blame himself, I shouldbe apt to reflect, that I am more in fault than any body. And, as thesting of this reflection will sharpen upon me, if I recover her not, howshall I ever be able to bear it?

If ever--

[Here Mr. Lovelace lays himself under a curse, too shocking to berepeated, if he revenge not himself upon the Lady, should he once moreget her into his hands. ]

***

I have just now dismissed the sniveling toad Dorcas, who was introducedto me for my pardon by the whining mother. I gave her a kind of negativeand ungracious forgiveness. Yet I shall as violently curse the twonymphs, by-and-by, for the consequences of my own folly: and if this willbe a good way too to prevent their ridicule upon me, for losing soglorious an opportunity as I had last night, or rather this morning. 

I have corrected, from the result of the inquiries made of the chairman, and from Dorcas's observations before the cruel creature escaped, adescription of her dress; and am resolved, if I cannot otherwise hear ofher, to advertise her in the gazette, as an eloped wife, both by hermaiden and acknowledged name; for her elopement will soon be known byevery enemy: why then should not my friends be made acquainted with it, from whose inquiries and informations I may expect some tidings of her?

'She had on a brown lustring night-gown, fresh, and looking like new, asevery thing she wears does, whether new or not, from an elegance naturalto her. A beaver hat, a black ribbon about her neck, and blue knots onher breast. A quilted petticoat of carnation-coloured satin; a rosediamond ring, supposed on her finger; and in her whole person andappearance, as I shall express it, a dignity, as well as beauty, thatcommands the repeated attention of every one who sees her. '

The description of her person I shall take a little more pains about. Mymind must be more at ease, before I undertake that. And I shallthreaten, 'that if, after a certain period given for her voluntaryreturn, she be not heard of, I will prosecute any person who presumes toentertain, harbour, abet, or encourage her, with all the vengeance thatan injured gentleman and husband may be warranted to take by law, orotherwise. '

***

Fresh cause of aggravation!--But for this scribbling vein, or I shouldstill run mad. 

Again going into her chamber, because it was her's, and sighing over thebed, and every piece of furniture in it, I cast my eye towards thedrawers of the dressing-glass, and saw peep out, as it were, in one ofthe half-drawn drawers, the corner of a letter. I snatched it out, andfound it superscribed, by her, To Mr. Lovelace. The sight of it made myheart leap, and I trembled so, that I could hardly open the seal. 

How does this damn'd love unman me!--but nobody ever loved as I love!--Itis even increased by her unworthy flight, and my disappointment. Ungrateful creature, to fly from a passion thus ardently flaming! which, like the palm, rises the more for being depressed and slighted. 

I will not give thee a copy of this letter. I owe her not so muchservice. 

But wouldst thou think, that this haughty promise-breaker could resolveas she does, absolutely and for ever to renounce me for what passed lastnight? That she could resolve to forego all her opening prospects ofreconciliation; the reconciliation with a worthless family, on which shehas set her whole heart?--Yet she does--she acquits me of all obligationto her, and herself of all expectations from me--And for what?--O thatindeed I had given her real cause! Damn'd confounded niceness, prudery, affectation, or pretty ignorance, if not affectation!--By my soul, Belford, I told thee all--I was more indebted to her struggles, than tomy own forwardness. I cannot support my own reflections upon a decencyso ill-requited. --She could not, she would not have been so much aHarlowe in her resentment. All she feared had then been over; and herown good sense, and even modesty, would have taught her to make the bestof it. 

But if ever again I get her into my hands, art, and more art, andcompulsion too, if she make it necessary, [and 'tis plain that nothingelse will do, ] shall she experience from the man whose fear of her hasbeen above even his passion for her; and whose gentleness and forbearanceshe has thus perfidiously triumphed over. Well, says the Poet, 'Tis nobler like a lion to invade When appetite directs, and seize my prey, Than to wait tamely, like a begging dog, Till dull consent throws out the scraps of love. 

Thou knowest what I have so lately vowed--and yet, at times [cruelcreature, and ungrateful as cruel!] I can subscribe with too much truthto those lines of another Poet:

 She reigns more fully in my soul than ever; She garrisons my breast, and mans against me Ev'n my own rebel thoughts, with thousand graces, Ten thousand charms, and new-discovered beauties!

LETTER XX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. 

A letter is put into my hands by Wilson himself. --Such a letter!

A letter from Miss Howe to her cruel friend!--

I made no scruple to open it. 

It is a miracle that I fell not into fits at the reading of it; and atthe thought of what might have been the consequence, had it come into thehands of this Clarissa Harlowe. Let my justly-excited rage excuse myirreverence. 

Collins, though not his day, brought it this afternoon to Wilson's, witha particular desire that it might be sent with all speed to MissBeaumont's lodgings, and given, if possible, into her own hands. He hadbefore been here (at Mrs. Sinclair's with intent to deliver it to thelady with his own hand; but was told [too truly told!] that she wasabroad; but that they would give her any thing he should leave for herthe moment she returned. ) But he cared not to trust them with hisbusiness, and went away to Wilson's, (as I find by the description of himat both places, ) and there left the letter; but not till he had a secondtime called here, and found her not come in. 

The letter [which I shall enclose; for it is too long to transcribe] willaccount to thee for Collins's coming hither. 

O this devilish Miss Howe;--something must be resolved upon and done withthat little fury!

***

Thou wilt see the margin of this cursed letter crowded with indices[>>>]. I put them to mark the places which call for vengeance upon thevixen writer, or which require animadversion. Return thou it to me themoment thou hast perused it. 

Read it here; and avoid trembling for me, if thou canst. 

TO MISS LAETITIA BEAUMONTWEDNESDAY, JUNE 7. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, You will perhaps think that I have been too long silent. But I had begun two letters at differ- ent times since my last, and written a great deal>>> each time; and with spirit enough, I assure you; incensed as I was against the abominable wretch you are with; particularly on reading your's of the 21st of the past month. *

* See Vol. IV. Letter XLVI. 

>>> The first I intended to keep open till I could give you some account of my proceedings with Mrs. Townsend. It was some days before I saw her: and this intervenient space giving me time to re- peruse what I had written, I thought it proper to lay>>> that aside, and to write in a style a little less fervent;>>> for you would have blamed me, I know, for the free- dom of some of my expressions. [Execrations, if you please. ] And when I had gone a good way in the second, the change in your prospects, on his communicating to you Miss Montague's letter, and his better behaviour, occasioning a change in your mind, I laid that aside also. And in this uncer- tainty, thought I would wait to see the issue of affairs between you before I wrote again; believing that all would soon be decided one way or other. 

 I had still, perhaps, held this resolution, [as every appearance, according to your letters, was more and more promising, ] had not the two passed days fur- nished me with intelligence which it highly imports you to know. 

 But I must stop here, and take a little walk, to try to keep down that just indignation which rises to my pen, when I am about to relate to you what I must communicate. 

 ***

 I am not my own mistress enough--then my mother--always up and down--and watching as if I were writing to a fellow. But I will try if I can contain myself in tolerable bounds. 

 The women of the house where you are--O my dear, the women of the house--but you never thought highly of them--so it cannot be very sur->>> prising--nor would you have staid so long with them, had not the notion of removing to one of your own, made you less uneasy, and less curious about their characters, and behaviour. Yet I could now wish, that you had been less reserved among them>>> --But I tease you--In short, my dear, you are certainly in a devilish house!--Be assured that the woman is one of the vilest women--nor does she go to you by her right name--[Very true!]-- Her name is not Sinclair, nor is the street she lives in Dover-street. Did you never go out by your- self, and discharge the coach or chair, and return>>> by another coach or chair? If you did, [yet I don't remember that you ever wrote to me, that you did, ] you would never have found your way to the vile house, either by the woman's name, Sin- clair, or by the street's name, mentioned by that Doleman in his letter about the lodgings. *

* Vol. III. Letters XXXVIII. And XXXIX. 

 The wretch might indeed have held out these false lights a little more excusably, had the house been an honest house; and had his end only been to prevent mischief from your brother. But this contrivance was antecedent, as I think, to your brother's project; so that no excuse can be made>>> for his intentions at the time--the man, whatever he may now intend, was certainly then, even then, a villain in his heart. 

 ***

>>> I am excessively concerned that I should be pre- vailed upon, between your over-niceness, on one hand, and my mother's positiveness, on the other, to be satisfied without knowing how to direct to you at your lodgings. I think too, that the proposal that I should be put off to a third-hand knowledge, or rather veiled in a first-hand ignorance, came from him, and that it was only acquiesced in by you, as it was by me, * upon needless and weak considera- tions; because, truly, I might have it to say, if challenged, that I knew not where to send to you! I am ashamed of myself!--Had this been at first excusable, it could not be a good reason for going on in the folly, when you had no liking to the>>> house, and when he began to play tricks, and delay with you. --What! I was to mistrust myself, was I? I was to allow it to be thought, that I could>>> not keep my own secret?--But the house to be>>> taken at this time, and at that time, led us both on>>> --like fools, like tame fools, in a string. Upon my life, my dear, this man is a vile, a contemptible villain--I must speak out!--How has he laughed in his sleeve at us both, I warrant, for I can't tell how long!

* See Vol. III. Letter LVI. Par. 12. And Letter LVIII. Par. 12. --Wherethe reader will observe, that the proposal came from herself; which, asit was also mentioned by Mr. Lovelace, (towards the end of Letter I. InVol. IV. ) she may be presumed to have forgotten. So that Clarissa had adouble inducement for acquiescing with the proposed method of carrying onthe correspondence between Miss Howe and herself by Wilson's conveyance, and by the name of Laetitia Beaumont. 

 And yet who could have thought that a man of>>> fortune, and some reputation, [this Doleman, I mean--not your wretch, to be sure!] formerly a rake, indeed, [I inquired after him long ago; and so was the easier satisfied;] but married to a woman of family--having had a palsy-blow--and, >>> one would think, a penitent, should recommend such a house [why, my dear, he could not inquire of it, but must find it to be bad] to such a man as Lovelace, to bring his future, nay, his then supposed, bride to?

 ***

>>> I write, perhaps, with too much violence, to be clear, but I cannot help it. Yet I lay down my pen, and take it up every ten minutes, in order to write with some temper--my mother too, in and out--What need I, (she asks me, ) lock myself in, if I am only reading past correspondencies? For>>> that is my pretence, when she comes poking in with her face sharpened to an edge, as I may say, by a curiosity that gives her more pain than pleasure. -->>> The Lord forgive me; but I believe I shall huff her next time she comes in. 

 ***

 Do you forgive me too, my dear--my mother ought; because she says, I am my father's girl; and because I am sure I am her's. I don't kow what to do--I don't know what to write next--I have so much to write, yet have so little patience, and so little opportunity. 

 But I will tell you how I came by my intelli->>> gence. That being a fact, and requiring the less attention, I will try to account to you for that. 

 Thus, then, it came about: 'Miss Lardner (whom you have seen at her cousin Biddulph's) saw you at St. James's Church on Sunday was fort- night. She kept you in her eye during the whole time; but could not once obtain the notice of your's, though she courtesied to you twice. She thought to pay her compliments to you when the service was over, for she doubted not but you were married-->>> and for an odd reason--because you came to church by yourself. Every eye, (as usual, wherever you are, she said, ) was upon you; and this seeming to give you hurry, and you being nearer the door than she, you slid out, before she could get to you. --But she ordered her servant to follow you till you were housed. This servant saw you step into a chair, which waited for you; and you ordered the men to carry you to the place where they took you up. 

 'The next day, Miss Lardner sent the same servant, out of mere curiosity, to make private in- quiry whether Mr. Lovelace were, or were not, with you there. --And this inquiry brought out, >>> from different people, that the house was suspected to be one of those genteel wicked houses, which receive and accommodate fashionable people of both sexes. 

 'Miss Lardner, confounded at this strange intel- ligence, made further inquiry; enjoining secrecy to the servant she had sent, as well as to the gentle->>> man whom she employed; who had it confirmed from a rakish friend, who knew the house; and told him, that there were two houses: the one in which all decent appearances were preserved, and guests rarely admitted; the other, the receptacle of those who were absolutely engaged, and broken to the vile yoke. '

>>> Say--my dear creature--say--Shall I not exe- crate the wretch?--But words are weak--What can I say, that will suitably express my abhorrence of such a villain as he must have been, when he meditated to carry a Clarissa to such a place!

 'Miss Lardner kept this to herself some days, not knowing what to do; for she loves you, and admires you of all women. At last she revealed it, but in confidence, to Miss Biddulph, by letter. Miss Biddulph, in like confidence, being afraid it would distract me, were I to know it, communi- cated it to Miss Lloyd; and so, like a whispered scandal, it passed through several canals, and then it came to me; which was not till last Monday. '

 I thought I should have fainted upon the surpris- ing communication. But rage taking place, it blew away the sudden illness. I besought Miss Lloyd to re-enjoin secrecy to every one. I told her that>>> I would not for the world that my mother, or any of your family, should know it. And I instantly caused a trusty friend to make what inquiries he could about Tomlinson. 

>>> I had thoughts to have done it before I had this intelligence: but not imagining it to be needful, and little thinking that you could be in such a house, and as you were pleased with your changed prospects, I>>> forbore. And the rather forbore, as the matter is so laid, that Mrs. Hodges is supposed to know nothing of the projected treaty of accommodation; but, on the contrary, that it was designed to be a secret to her, and to every body but immediate parties; and it was Mrs. Hodges that I had pro- posed to sound by a second hand. 

>>> Now, my dear, it is certain, without applying to that too-much-favoured housekeeper, that there is not such a man within ten miles of your uncle. -- Very true!--One Tomkins there is, about four miles off; but he is a day-labourer: and one Thompson, about five miles distant the other way; but he is a parish schoolmaster, poor, and about seventy. 

>>> A man, thought but of �. 800 a year, cannot come from one country to settle in another, but every body in both must know it, and talk of it. 

>>> Mrs. Hodges may yet be sounded at a distance, if you will. Your uncle is an old man. Old men imagine themselves under obligation to their para->>> mours, if younger than themselves, and seldom keep any thing from their knowledge. But if we suppose him to make secret of this designed treaty, it is impossible, before that treaty was thought of, but she must have seen him, at least have heard your uncle speak praisefully of a man he is said to be so intimate with, let him have been ever so little a while in those parts. 

>>> Yet, methinks, the story is so plausible--Tom- linson, as you describe him, is so good a man, and so much of a gentleman; the end to be answered>>> by his being an impostor, so much more than neces- sary if Lovelace has villany in his head; and as>>> you are in such a house--your wretch's behaviour to him was so petulant and lordly; and Tomlin- son's answer so full of spirit and circumstance;>>> and then what he communicated to you of Mr. Hickman's application to your uncle, and of Mrs. Norton's to your mother, [some of which particu->>> lars, I am satisfied, his vile agent, Joseph Leman, could not reveal to his vile employer;] his press- ing on the marriage-day, in the name of your uncle, which it could not answer any wicked pur->>> pose for him to do; and what he writes of your uncle's proposal, to have it thought that you were married from the time that you have lived in one house together; and that to be made to agree with the time of Mr. Hickman's visit to your uncle. >>> The insisting on a trusty person's being present at the ceremony, at that uncle's nomination--These things make me willing to try for a tolerable construc- tion to be made of all. Though I am so much puzzled by what occurs on both sides of the ques->>> tion, that I cannot but abhor the devilish wretch, whose inventions and contrivances are for ever em- ploying an inquisitive head, as mine is, without affording the means of absolute detection. 

 But this is what I am ready to conjecture, that Tomlinson, specious as he is, is a machine of Love->>> lace; and that he is employed for some end, which has not yet been answered. This is certain, that not only Tomlinson, but Mennell, who, I think, attended you more than once at this vile house, must know it to be a vile house. 

 What can you then think of Tomlinson's declar- ing himself in favour of it upon inquiry?

 Lovelace too must know it to be so; if not before he brought you to it, soon after. 

>>> Perhaps the company he found there, may be the most probable way of accounting for his bearing with the house, and for his strange suspensions of marriage, when it was in his power to call such an angel of a woman his. --

>>> O my dear, the man is a villain!--the greatest of villains, in every light!--I am convinced that he is. --And this Doleman must be another of his implements!

>>> There are so many wretches who think that to be no sin, which is one of the greatest and most ungrateful of all sins, --to ruin young creatures of our sex who place their confidence in them; that the wonder is less than the shame, that people, of appearance at least, are found to promote the horrid purposes of profligates of fortune and interest!

>>> But can I think [you will ask with indignant astonishment] that Lovelace can have designs upon your honour?

>>> That such designs he has had, if he still hold them or not, I can have no doubt, now that I know the house he has brought you to, to be a vile one. This is a clue that has led me to account for all his behaviour to you ever since you have been in his hands. 

 Allow me a brief retrospection of it all. 

 We both know, that pride, revenge, and a delight to tread in unbeaten paths, are principal ingredients in the character of this finished libertine. 

>>> He hates all your family--yourself excepted: and I have several times thought, that I have seen>>> him stung and mortified that love has obliged him to kneel at your footstool, because you are a Har- lowe. Yet is this wretch a savage in love. --Love>>> that humanizes the fiercest spirits, has not been able to subdue his. His pride, and the credit which a>>> few plausible qualities, sprinkled among his odious ones, have given him, have secured him too good a reception from our eye-judging, our undistinguish- ing, our self-flattering, our too-confiding sex, to make assiduity and obsequiousness, and a conquest of his unruly passions, any part of his study. 

>>> He has some reason for his animosity to all the men, and to one woman of your family. He has always shown you, and his own family too, that he>>> prefers his pride to his interest. He is a declared marriage-hater; a notorious intriguer; full of his inventions, and glorying in them: he never could draw you into declarations of love; nor till your>>> wise relations persecuted you as they did, to receive his addresses as a lover. He knew that you pro- fessedly disliked him for his immoralities; he could not, therefore, justly blame you for the coldness and indifference of your behaviour to him. 

>>> The prevention of mischief was your first main view in the correspondence he drew you into. He ought not, then, to have wondered that you declared your preference of the single life to any matrimonial engagement. He knew that this was always you>>> preference; and that before he tricked you away so artfully. What was his conduct to you afterwards, that you should of a sudden change it?

 Thus was your whole behaviour regular, con- sistent, and dutiful to those to whom by birth you owed duty; and neither prudish, coquettish, nor tyrannical to him. 

>>> He had agreed to go on with you upon those your own terms, and to rely only on his own merits and future reformation for your favour. 

>>> It was plain to me, indeed, to whom you com- municated all that you knew of your own heart, though not all of it that I found out, that love had pretty early gained footing in it. And this you yourself would have discovered sooner than you>>> did, had not his alarming, his unpolite, his rough conduct, kept it under. 

>>> I knew by experience that love is a fire that is not to be played with without burning one's fingers: I knew it to be a dangerous thing for two single persons of different sexes to enter into familiarity and correspondence with each other: Since, as to the latter, must not a person be capable of premedi- tated art, who can sit down to write, and not write from the heart?--And a woman to write her heart to a man practised in deceit, or even to a man of some character, what advantage does it give him over her?

>>> As this man's vanity had made him imagine, that no woman could be proof against love, when his address was honourable; no wonder that he struggled, like a lion held in toils, against a passion that he thought not returned. And how could you, at first, show a return in love, to so fierce a spirit, and who had seduced you away by vile artifices, but to the approval of those artifices. 

>>> Hence, perhaps, it is not difficult to believe, that it became possible for such a wretch as this to give way to his old prejudices against marriage; and to that revenge which had always been a first passion with him. 

 This is the only way, I think, to account for his horrid views in bringing you to a vile house. 

 And now may not all the rest be naturally accounted for?--His delays--his teasing ways-- his bringing you to bear with his lodging in the same house--his making you pass to the people of>>> it as his wife, though restrictively so, yet with hope, no doubt, (vilest of villains as he is!) to take you>>> at an advantage--his bringing you into the com- pany of his libertine companions--the attempt of imposing upon you that Miss Partington for a bedfellow, very probably his own invention for the worst of purposes--his terrifying you at many different times--his obtruding himself upon you when you went out to church; no doubt to prevent your finding out what the people of the house were --the advantages he made of your brother's foolish project with Singleton. 

 See, my dear, how naturally all this follows from>>> the discovery made by Miss Lardner. See how the monster, whom I thought, and so often called, >>> a fool, comes out to have been all the time one of the greatest villains in the world!

 But if this is so, what, [it would be asked by an indifferent person, ] has hitherto saved you? Glorious creature!--What, morally speaking, but your watchfulness! What but that, and the majesty of your virtue; the native dignity, which, in a situation so very difficult, (friendless, destitute, passing for a wife, cast into the company of crea- tures accustomed to betray and ruin innocent hearts, ) has hitherto enabled you to baffle, over-awe, and confound, such a dangerous libertine as this; so habitually remorseless, as you have observed him to be; so very various in his temper, so inventive, so seconded, so supported, so instigated, too pro- bably, as he has been!--That native dignity, that heroism, I will call it, which has, on all proper occasions, exerted itself in its full lustre, unmingled>>> with that charming obligingness and condescending sweetness, which is evermore the softener of that dignity, when your mind is free and unapprehen- sive!

>>> Let me stop to admire, and to bless my beloved friend, who, unhappily for herself, at an age so tender, unacquainted as she was with the world, and with the vile arts of libertines, having been called upon to sustain the hardest and most shocking trials, from persecuting relations on one hand, and from a villanous lover on the other, has been enabled to give such an illustrious example of fortitude and prudence as never woman gave before her; and who, as I have heretofore observed, * has made a far greater figure in adversity, than she possibly could have made, had all her shining qualities been exerted in their full force and power, by the con->>> tinuance of that prosperous run of fortune which attended her for eighteen years of life out of nineteen. 

* See Vol. IV. Letters XXIV. 

 ***

>>> But now, my dear, do I apprehend, that you are in greater danger than ever yet you have been in; if you are not married in a week; and yet stay in this abominable house. For were you out of it, I own I should not be much afraid for you. 

 These are my thoughts, on the most deliberate>>> consideration: 'That he is now convinced, that he has not been able to draw you off your guard: that therefore, if he can obtain no new advantage over you as he goes along, he is resolved to do you all the poor justice that it is in the power of such a wretch as he to do you. He is the rather induced to this, as he sees that all his own family have warmly engaged themselves in your cause: and that it is>>> his highest interest to be just to you. Then the horrid wretch loves you (as well he may) above all women. I have no doubt of this: with such a love>>> as such a wretch is capable of: with such a love as Herod loved his Marianne. He is now therefore, very probably, at last, in earnest. '

 I took time for inquiries of different natures, as I knew, by the train you are in, that whatever his designs are, they cannot ripen either for good or>>> evil till something shall result from this device of his about Tomlinson and your uncle. 

 Device I have no doubt that it is, whatever this dark, this impenetrable spirit intends by it. 

>>> And yet I find it to be true, that Counsellor Williams (whom Mr. Hickman knows to be a man of eminence in his profession) has actually as good>>> as finished the settlements: that two draughts of them have been made; one avowedly to be sent to one Captain Tomlinson, as the clerk says:--and I find that a license has actually been more than once endeavoured to be obtained; and that difficulties have hitherto been made, equally to Lovelace's>>> vexation and disappointment. My mother's proctor, who is very intimate with the proctor applied to by the wretch, has come at this information in confidence; and hints, that, as Mr. Lovelace is a man of high fortunes, these difficulties will probably be got over. 

 But here follow the causes of my apprehension of your danger; which I should not have had a thought>>> of (since nothing very vile has yet been attempted) but on finding what a house you are in, and, on that discovery, laying together and ruminating on past occurrences. 

 'You are obliged, from the present favourable>>> appearances, to give him your company whenever he requests it. --You are under a necessity of for- getting, or seeming to forget, past disobligations; and to receive his addresses as those of a betrothed lover. --You will incur the censure of prudery and affectation, even perhaps in your own apprehension, if you keep him at that distance which has hitherto>>> been your security. --His sudden (and as suddenly recovered) illness has given him an opportunity to find out that you love him. [Alas! my dear, I knew you loved him!] He is, as you relate, every>>> hour more and more an encroacher upon it. He has seemed to change his nature, and is all love and>>> gentleness. The wolf has put on the sheep's cloth- ing; yet more than once has shown his teeth, and his hardly-sheathed claws. The instance you have given of his freedom with your person, * which you could not but resent; and yet, as matters are cricumstanced between you, could not but pass over, when Tomlinson's letter called you into his>>> company, ** show the advantage he has now over you; and also, that if he can obtain greater, he will. --And for this very reason (as I apprehend) it>>> is, that Tomlinson is introduced; that is to say, to give you the greater security, and to be a mediator, if mortal offence be given you by any villanous attempt. --The day seems not now to be so much in your power as it ought to be, since that now partly depends on your uncle, whose presence, at your own motion, he has wished on the occasion. A wish, were all real, very unlikely, I think, to be granted. '

* She means the freedom Mr. Lovelace took with her before the fire-plot. See Vol. V. Letter XI. When Miss Howe wrote this letter she could notknow of that. ** See Vol. V. Letter XII. 

>>> And thus situated, should he offer greater free- doms, must you not forgive him?

 I fear nothing (as I know who has said) that devil carnate or incarnate can fairly do against a>>> virtue so established. *--But surprizes, my dear, in such a house as you are in, and in such circum- stances as I have mentioned, I greatly fear! the>>> man one who has already triumphed over persons worthy of his alliance. 

>>> What then have you to do, but to fly this house, this infernal house!--O that your heart would let you fly the man!

>>> If you should be disposed so to do, Mrs. Towns- end shall be ready at your command. --But if you meet with no impediments, no new causes of doubt, I think your reputation in the eye of the world, >>> though not your happiness, is concerned, that you should be his--and yet I cannot bear that these libertines should be rewarded for their villany with the best of the sex, when the worst of it are too good for them. 

 But if you meet with the least ground for suspicion; if he would detain you at the odious house, or wish you to stay, now you know what>>> the people are; fly him, whatever your prospects are, as well as them. 

 In one of your next airings, if you have no other>>> way, refuse to return with him. Name me for your intelligencer, that you are in a bad house, and if you think you cannot now break with him, seem rather>>> to believe that he may not know it to be so; and that I do not believe he does: and yet this belief in us both must appear to be very gross. 

 But suppose you desire to go out of town for the air, this sultry weather, and insist upon it? You may plead your health for so doing. He dare not>>> resist such a plea. Your brother's foolish scheme, I am told, is certainly given up; so you need not be afraid on that account. 

 If you do not fly the house upon reading of this, or some way or other get out of it, I shall judge of his power over you, by the little you will have over either him or yourself. 

>>> One of my informers has made such slight inquiries concerning Mrs. Fretchville. Did he ever name to you the street or square she lived in?--I don't>>> remember that you, in any of your's, mentioned the place of her abode to me. Strange, very strange, this, I think! No such person or house can be found, near any of the new streets or squares, where the lights I had from your letters led me to imagine>>> her house might be. --Ask him what street the house is in, if he has not told you; and let me>>> know. If he make a difficulty of that circumstance, it will amount to a detection. --And yet, I think, you will have enough without this. 

 I shall send this long letter by Collins, who changes his day to oblige me; and that he may try (now I know where you are) to get it into your own hands. If he cannot, he will leave it at Wilson's. As none of our letters by that convey- ance have miscarried when you have been in more apparently disagreeable situations than you are in at present. I hope that this will go safe, if Collins should be obliged to leave it there. 

>>> I wrote a short letter to you in my first agitations. It contained not above twenty lines, all full of fright, alarm, and execration. But being afraid that my vehemence would too much affect you, I thought it better to wait a little, as well for the reasons already hinted at, as to be able to give you as many par- ticulars as I could, and my thoughts upon all. And as they have offered, or may offer, you will be sufficiently armed to resist all his machinations, be what they will. 

>>> One word more. Command me up, if I can be of the least service or pleasure to you. I value not fame; I value not censure; nor even life itself, I verily think, as I do your honour, and your friend- ship--For, is not your honour my honour? And is not your friendship the pride of my life?

 May Heaven preserve you, my dearest creature, in honour and safety, is the prayer, the hourly prayer, of

Your ever-faithful and affectionateANNA HOWE. 

THURSDAY MORN. 5. I have written all night

***

TO MISS HOWE

MY DEAREST CREATURE, How you have shocked, confounded, surprised, astonished me, by yourdreadful communication!--My heart is too weak to bear up against such astroke as this!--When all hope was with me! When my prospects were somuch mended!--But can there be such villany in men, as in this vileprincipal, and equally vile agent!

I am really ill--very ill--grief and surprise, and, now I will say, despair, have overcome me!--All, all, you have laid down as conjecture, appears to me now to be more than conjecture!

O that your mother would have the goodness to permit me the presence ofthe only comforter that my afflicted, my half-broken heart, could beraised by. But I charge you, think not of coming up without herindulgent permission. I am too ill at present, my dear, to think ofcombating with this dreadful man; and of flying from this horrid house!--My bad writing will show you this. --But my illness will be my presentsecurity, should he indeed have meditated villany. --Forgive, O forgiveme, my dearest friend, the trouble I have given you!--All must soon--Butwhy add I grief to grief, and trouble to trouble?--But I charge you, mybeloved creature, not to think of coming up without your mother's love, to the truly desolate and broken-spirited

CLARISSA HARLOWE. 

***

Well, Jack!--And what thinkest thou of this last letter? Miss Howevalues not either fame or censure; and thinkest thou, that this letterwill not bring the little fury up, though she could procure no otherconveyance than her higgler's panniers, one for herself, the other forher maid? She knows whither to come now. Many a little villain have Ipunished for knowing more than I would have her know, and that by addingto her knowledge and experience. What thinkest thou, Belford, if, bygetting hither this virago, and giving cause for a lamentable letter fromher to the fair fugitive, I should be able to recover her? Would she notvisit that friend in her distress, thinkest thou, whose intended visit toher in her's brought her into the condition from which she herself had soperfidiously escaped?

Let me enjoy the thought!

Shall I send this letter?--Thou seest I have left room, if I fail in theexact imitation of so charming a hand, to avoid too strict a scrutiny. Do they not both deserve it of me? Seest thou now how the raving girlsthreatens her mother? Ought she not to be punished? And can I be aworse devil, or villain, or monster, that she calls me in the long letterI enclose (and has called me in her former letters) were I to punish themboth as my vengeance urges me to punish them? And when I have executedthat my vengeance, how charmingly satisfied may they both go down intothe country and keep house together, and have a much better reason thantheir pride could give them, for living the single life they have bothseemed so fond of!

I will set about transcribing it this moment, I think. I can resolveafterwards. Yet what has poor Hickman done to deserve this of me!--Butgloriously would it punish the mother (as well as daughter) for all hersordid avarice; and for her undutifulness to honest Mr. Howe, whose heartshe actually broke. I am on tiptoe, Jack, to enter upon this project. Is not one country as good to me as another, if I should be obliged totake another tour upon it?

***

But I will not venture. Hickman is a good man, they tell me. I love agood man. I hope one of these days to be a good man myself. Besides, Ihave heard within this week something of this honest fellow that shows hehas a soul; when I thought, if he had one, that it lay a little of thedeepest to emerge to notice, except on very extraordinary occasions; andthat then it presently sunk again into its cellula adiposa. --The man is aplump man. --Didst ever see him, Jack?

But the principal reason that withholds me [for 'tis a tempting project!]is, for fear of being utterly blown up, if I should not be quick enoughwith my letter, or if Miss Howe should deliberate on setting out, to tryher mother's consent first; in which time a letter from my frightedbeauty might reach her; for I have no doubt, wherever she has refuged, but her first work was to write to her vixen friend. I will therefore goon patiently; and take my revenge upon the little fury at my leisure. 

But in spite of my compassion for Hickman, whose better character issometimes my envy, and who is one of those mortals that bring clumsinessinto credit with the mothers, to the disgrace of us clever fellows, andoften to our disappointment, with the daughters; and who has been verybusy in assisting these double-armed beauties against me; I swear by allthe dii majores, as well as minores, that I will have Miss Howe, if Icannot have her more exalted friend! And then, if there be as muchflaming love between these girls as they pretend, will my charmer profitby her escape?

And now, that I shall permit Miss Howe to reign a little longer, let meask thee, if thou hast not, in the enclosed letter, a fresh instance, that a great many of my difficulties with her sister-toast are owing tothis flighty girl?--'Tis true that here was naturally a confounded sharpwinter air; and if a little cold water was thrown into the path, nowonder that it was instantly frozen; and that the poor honest travellerfound it next to impossible to keep his way; one foot sliding back asfast as the other advanced, to the endangering of his limbs or neck. Butyet I think it impossible that she should have baffled me as she has done(novice as she is, and never before from under her parents' wings) hadshe not been armed by a virago, who was formerly very near showing thatshe could better advise than practise. But this, I believe, I have saidmore than once before. 

I am loth to reproach myself, now the cruel creature has escaped me; Forwhat would that do, but add to my torment? since evils self-caused, andavoidable, admit not of palliation or comfort. And yet, if thou tellestme, that all her strength was owing to my weakness, and that I have beena cursed coward in this whole affair; why, then, Jack, I may blush, andbe vexed; but, by my soul, I cannot contradict thee. 

But this, Belford, I hope--that if I can turn the poison of the enclosedletter into wholesome ailment; that is to say, if I can make use of it tomy advantage; I shall have thy free consent to do it. 

I am always careful to open covers cautiously, and to preserve sealsentire. I will draw out from this cursed letter an alphabet. Nor wasNick Rowe ever half so diligent to learn Spanish, at the Quixoterecommendation of a certain peer, as I will be to gain the mastery ofthis vixen's hand. 

LETTER XXI

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWETHURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 8. 

After my last, so full of other hopes, the contents of this will surpriseyou. O my dearest friend, the man has at last proved himself to be avillain!

It was with the utmost difficulty last night, that I preserved myself fromthe vilest dishonour. He extorted from me a promise of forgiveness, and that I would see him next day, as if nothing had happened: but if itwere possible to escape from a wretch, who, as I have too much reason tobelieve, formed a plot to fire the house, to frighten me, almost naked, into his arms, how could I see him next day?

I have escaped--Heaven be praised that I have!--And now have no otherconcern, than that I fly from the only hope that could have made such ahusband tolerable to me; the reconciliation with my friends, so agreeablyundertaken by my uncle. 

All my present hope is, to find some reputable family, or person of myown sex, who is obliged to go beyond sea, or who lives abroad; I care notwhether; but if I might choose, in some one of our American colonies--never to be heard of more by my relations, whom I have so grievouslyoffended. 

Nor let your generous heart be moved at what I write. If I can escapethe dreadfullest part of my father's malediction, (for the temporary partis already, in a manner, fulfilled, which makes me tremble inapprehension of the other, ) I shall think the wreck of my worldlyfortunes a happy composition. 

Neither is there need of the renewal of your so-often-tendered goodnessto me: for I have with me rings and other valuables, that were sent mewith my clothes, which will turn into money to answer all I can want, till Providence shall be pleased to put me into some want to help myself, if, for my further punishment, my life is to be lengthened beyond mywishes. 

Impute not this scheme, my beloved friend, either to dejection on onehand, or to that romantic turn on the other, which we have supposedgenerally to obtain with our sex, from fifteen to twenty-two: for, bepleased to consider my unhappy situation, in the light in which it reallymust appear to every considerate person who knows it. In the firstplace, the man, who has endeavoured to make me, his property, will huntme as a stray: and he knows he may do so with impunity; for whom have Ito protect me from him?

Then as to my estate, the envied estate, which has been the originalcause of all my misfortunes, it shall never be mine upon litigated terms. What is there in being enabled to boast, that I am worth more than I canuse, or wish to use? And if my power is circumscribed, I shall not havethat to answer for, which I should have, if I did not use it as I ought:which very few do. I shall have no husband, of whose interest I ought tobe so regardful, as to prevent me doing more than justice to others, thatI may not do less for him. If therefore my father will be pleased (as Ishall presume, in proper time, to propose to him) to pay two annuitiesout of it, one to my dear Mrs. Norton, which may make her easy for theremainder of her life, as she is now growing into years; the other of50�. Per annum, to the same good woman, for the use of my poor, as I hadthe vanity to call a certain set of people, concerning whom she knows allmy mind; that so as few as possible may suffer by the consequences of myerror; God bless them, and give them heart's ease and content, with therest!

Other reasons for my taking the step I have hinted at, are these. 

This wicked man knows I have no friend in the world but you: yourneighbourhood therefore would be the first he would seek for me in, wereyou to think it possible for me to be concealed in it: and in this caseyou might be subjected to inconveniencies greater even than those whichyou have already sustained on my account. 

From my cousin Morden, were he to come, I could not hope protection;since, by his letter to me, it is evident, that my brother has engaged himin his party: nor would I, by any means, subject so worthy a man todanger; as might be the case, from the violence of this ungovernablespirit. 

These things considered, what better method can I take, than to go abroadto some one of the English colonies; where nobody but yourself shall knowany thing of me; nor you, let me tell you, presently, nor till I amfixed, and (if it please God) in a course of living tolerably to my mind?For it is no small part of my concern, that my indiscretions have laid soheavy a tax upon you, my dear friend, to whom, once, I hoped to give morepleasure than pain. 

I am at present at one Mrs. Moore's at Hampstead. My heart misgave me atcoming to this village, because I had been here with him more than once:but the coach hither was so ready a conveniency, that I knew not what todo better. Then I shall stay here no longer than till I can receive youranswer to this: in which you will be pleased to let me know, if I cannotbe hid, according to your former contrivance, [happy, had I given into itat the time!] by Mrs. Townsend's assistance, till the heat of his searchbe over. The Deptford road, I imagine, will be the right direction tohear of a passage, and to get safely aboard. 

O why was the great friend of all unchained, and permitted to assume sospecious a form, and yet allowed to conceal his feet and his talons, tillwith the one he was ready to trample upon my honour, and to strike theother into my heart!--And what had I done, that he should be let looseparticularly upon me!

Forgive me this murmuring question, the effect of my impatience, myguilty impatience, I doubt: for, as I have escaped with my honour, andnothing but my worldly prospects, and my pride, my ambition, and myvanity, have suffered in this wretch of my hopefuller fortunes, may I notstill be more happy than I deserve to be? And is it not in my own powerstill, by the Divine favour, to secure the greatest stake of all? Andwho knows but that this very path into which my inconsideration hasthrown me, strewed as it is with briers and thorns, which tear in piecesmy gaudier trappings, may not be the right path to lead me into the greatroad to my future happiness; which might have been endangered by evilcommunication?

And after all, are there not still more deserving persons than I, whonever failed in any capital point of duty, than have been more humbledthan myself; and some too, by the errors of parents and relations, by thetricks and baseness of guardians and trustees, and in which their ownrashness or folly had no part?

I will then endeavour to make the best of my present lot. And join withme, my best, my only friend, in praying, that my punishment may end here;and that my present afflictions may be sanctified to me. 

This letter will enable you to account for a line or two, which I sent toWilson's, to be carried to you, only for a feint, to get his servant outof the way. He seemed to be left, as I thought, for a spy upon me. Buthe returning too soon, I was forced to write a few lines for him to carryto his master, to a tavern near Doctors Commons, with the same view: andthis happily answered my end. 

I wrote early in the morning a bitter letter to the wretch, which I leftfor him obvious enough; and I suppose he has it by this time. I kept nocopy of it. I shall recollect the contents, and give you the particularsof all, at more leisure. 

I am sure you will approve of my escape--the rather, as the people of thehouse must be very vile: for they, and that Dorcas too, did hear me (Iknow they did) cry out for help: if the fire had been other than avillanous plot (although in the morning, to blind them, I pretended tothink it otherwise) they would have been alarmed as much as I; and haverun in, hearing me scream, to comfort me, supposing my terror was thefire; to relieve me, supposing it was any thing else. But the vileDorcas went away as soon as she saw the wretch throw his arms about me!--Bless me, my dear, I had only my slippers and an under-petticoat on. Iwas frighted out of my bed, by her cries of fire; and that I should beburnt to ashes in a moment--and she to go away, and never to return, norany body else! And yet I heard women's voices in the next room; indeedI did--an evident contrivance of them all:--God be praised, I am out oftheir house!

My terror is not yet over: I can hardly think myself safe: every well-dressed man I see from my windows, whether on horseback or on foot, Ithink to be him. 

I know you will expedite an answer. A man and horse will be procured meto-morrow early, to carry this. To be sure, you cannot return an answerby the same man, because you must see Mrs. Townsend first: nevertheless, I shall wait with impatience till you can; having no friend but you toapply to; and being such a stranger to this part of the world, that Iknow not which way to turn myself; whither to go; nor what to do--What adreadful hand have I made of it!

Mrs. Moore, at whose house I am, is a widow, and of good character: andof this one of her neighbours, of whom I bought a handkerchief, purposelyto make inquiry before I would venture, informed me. 

I will not set my foot out of doors, till I have your direction: and I amthe more secure, having dropt words to the people of the house where thecoach set me down, as if I expected a chariot to meet me in my way toHendon; a village a little distance from this. And when I left theirhouse, I walked backward and forward upon the hill; at first, not knowingwhat to do; and afterwards, to be certain that I was not watched before Iventured to inquire after a lodging. 

You will direct for me, my dear, by the name of Mrs. Harriot Lucas. 

Had I not made my escape when I did, I was resolved to attempt it againand again. He was gone to the Commons for a license, as he wrote meword; for I refused to see him, notwithstanding the promise he extortedfrom me. 

How hard, how next to impossible, my dear, to avoid many lesserdeviations, when we are betrayed into a capital one!

For fear I should not get away at my first effort, I had apprized him, that I would not set eye upon him under a week, in order to gain myselftime for it in different ways. And were I so to have been watched as tohave made it necessary, I would, after such an instance of the connivanceof the women of the house, have run out into the street, and thrownmyself into the next house I could have entered, or claim protection fromthe first person I had met--Women to desert the cause of a poor creatureof their own sex, in such a situation, what must they be!--Then, suchpoor guilty sort of figures did they make in the morning after he wasgone out--so earnest to get me up stairs, and to convince me, by thescorched window-boards, and burnt curtains and vallens, that the fire wasreal--that (although I seemed to believe all they would have me believe)I was more and more resolved to get out of their house at all adventures. 

When I began, I thought to write but a few lines. But, be my subjectwhat it will, I know not how to conclude when I write to you. It wasalways so: it is not therefore owing peculiarly to that most interestingand unhappy situation, which you will allow, however, to engross atpresent the whole mind of

Your unhappy, but ever-affectionateCLARISSA HARLOWE. 

LETTER XXII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY MORNING, PAST TWO O'CLOCK. 

Io Triumphe!--Io Clarissa, sing!--Once more, what a happy man thyfriend!--A silly dear novice, to be heard to tell the coachman where tocarry her!--And to go to Hampstead, of all the villages about London!--The place where we had been together more than once!

Methinks I am sorry she managed no better!--I shall find the recovery ofher too easy a task, I fear! Had she but known how much difficultyenhances the value of any thing with me, and had she the least notion ofobliging me by it, she would never have stopt short at Hampstead, surely. 

Well, but after al this exultation, thou wilt ask, If I have already gotback my charmer?--I have not;--But knowing where she is, is almost thesame thing as having her in my power. And it delights me to think howshe will start and tremble when I first pop upon her! How she will lookwith conscious guilt, that will more than wipe off my guilt of Wednesdaynight, when she sees her injured lover, and acknowledged husband, fromwhom, the greatest of felonies, she would have stolen herself. 

But thou wilt be impatient to know how I came by my lights. Read theenclosed letter, as I have told thee, I have given my fellow, inapprehension of such an elopement; and that will tell thee all, and whatI may reasonably expect from the rascal's diligence and management, if hewishes ever to see my face again. 

I received it about half an hour ago, just as I was going to lie down inmy clothes, and it has made me so much alive, that, midnight as it is, Ihave sent for a Blunt's chariot, to attend me here by day peep, with myusual coachman, if possible; and knowing not what else to do with myself, I sat down, and, in the joy of my heart, have not only written thus far, but have concluded upon the measures I shall take when admitted to herpresence: for well am I aware of the difficulties I shall have to contendwith from her perverseness. 

HONNERED SIR, This is to sertifie your Honner, as how I am heer at Hamestet, where Ihave found out my lady to be in logins at one Mrs. Moore's, near uponHamestet-Hethe. And I have so ordered matters, that her ladyship cannotstur but I must have notice of her goins and comins. As I knowed I durstnot look into your Honner's fase, if I had not found out my lady, thoffshe was gone off the prems's in a quarter of an hour, as a man may say;so I knowed you would be glad at hart to know I have found her out: andso I send thiss Petur Patrick, who is to have 5 shillings, it being nownear 12 of the clock at nite; for he would not stur without a heartydrink too besides: and I was willing all shulde be snug likeways at thelogins before I sent. 

I have munny of youre Honner's; but I thought as how, if the man waspayed by me beforend, he mought play trix; so left that to your Honner. 

My lady knows nothing of my being hereaway. But I thoute it best not toleve the plase, because she has taken the logins but for a fue nites. 

If your Honner come to the Upper Flax, I will be in site all the dayabout the tapp-house or the Hethe. I have borrowed another cote, insteadof your Honner's liferie, and a blacke wigg; so cannot be knoen by mylady, iff as howe she shuld see me: and have made as if I had the tooth-ake; so with my hancriffe at my mothe, the teth which your Honner waspleased to bett out with your Honner's fyste, and my dam'd wide mothe, asyour Honner notifys it to be, cannot be knoen to be mine. 

The two inner letters I had from my lady, before she went off the prems's. One was to be left at Mr. Wilson's for Miss Howe. The next wasto be for your Honner. But I knowed you was not at the plase directed;and being afear'd of what fell out, so I kept them for your Honner, andso could not give um to you, until I seed you. Miss How's I only madebelief to her ladyship as I carried it, and sed as how there was nothingleft for hur, as she wished to knoe: so here they be bothe. 

I am, may it please your Honner, Your Honner's must dutiful, And, wonce more, happy servant, WM. SUMMERS. 

***

The two inner letters, as Will. Calls them, 'tis plain, were written forno other purpose, but to send him out of the way with them, and one ofthem to amuse me. That directed to Miss Howe is only this:--

THURSDAY, JUNE 8. 

I write this, my dear Miss Howe, only for a feint, and to see if it willgo current. I shall write at large very soon, if not miserablyprevented!!!

CL. H. 

***

Now, Jack, will not her feints justify mine! Does she not invade myprovince, thinkest thou? And is it not now fairly come to--Who shallmost deceive and cheat the other? So, I thank my stars, we are upon apar at last, as to this point, which is a great ease to my conscience, thou must believe. And if what Hudibras tells us is true, the dearfugitive has also abundance of pleasure to come. 

 Doubtless the pleasure is as great In being cheated, as to cheat. As lookers-on find most delight, Who least perceive the juggler's sleight; And still the less they understand, The more admire the slight of hand. 

***

This my dear juggler's letter to me; the other inner letter sent by Will. 

THURSDAY, JUNE 8. 

MR. LOVELACE, Do not give me cause to dread your return. If you would not that Ishould hate you for ever, send me half a line by the bearer, to assure methat you will not attempt to see me for a week to come. I cannot lookyou in the face without equal confusion and indignation. The obliging mein this, is but a poor atonement for your last night's vile behaviour. 

You may pass this time in a journey to Lord M. 's; and I cannot doubt, ifthe ladies of your family are as favourable to me, as you have assured methey are, but that you will have interest enough to prevail with one ofthem to oblige me with their company. After your baseness of last night, you will not wonder, that I insist upon this proof of your future honour. 

If Captain Tomlinson comes mean time, I can hear what he has to say, andsend you an account of it. 

But in less than a week if you see me, it must be owing to a fresh act ofviolence, of which you know not the consequence. 

Send me the requested line, if ever you expect to have the forgivenessconfirmed, the promise of which you extorted from

The unhappyCL. H. 

***

Now, Belford, what canst thou say in behalf of this sweet rogue of alady? What canst thou say for her? 'Tis apparent, that she was fullydetermined upon an elopement when she wrote it. And thus would she makeme of party against myself, by drawing me in to give her a week's time tocomplete it. And, more wicked still, send me upon a fool's errand tobring up one of my cousins. --When we came to have the satisfaction offinding her gone off, and me exposed for ever!--What punishment can bebad enough for such a little villain of a lady?

But mind, moreover, how plausibly she accounts by this billet, (supposingshe should not find an opportunity of eloping before I returned, ) for theresolution of not seeing me for a week; and for the bread and butterexpedient!--So childish as we thought it!

The chariot is not come; and if it were, it is yet too soon for everything but my impatience. And as I have already taken all my measures, and can think of nothing but my triumph, I will resume her violentletter, in order to strengthen my resolutions against her. I was beforein too gloomy a way to proceed with it. But now the subject is all aliveto me, and my gayer fancy, like the sunbeams, will irradiate it, and turnthe solemn deep-green into a brighter verdure. 

When I have called upon my charmer to explain some parts of her letter, and to atone for others, I will send it, or a copy of it, to thee. 

Suffice it at present to tell thee, in the first place, that she isdetermined never to be my wife. --To be sure there ought to be nocompulsion in so material a case. Compulsion was her parents' fault, which I have censured so severely, that I shall hardly be guilty of thesame. I am therefore glad I know her mind as to this essential point. 

I have ruined her! she says. --Now that's a fib, take it her own way--if Ihad, she would not, perhaps, have run away from me. 

She is thrown upon the wide world! Now I own that Hampstead-heathaffords very pretty and very extensive prospects; but 'tis not the wideworld neither. And suppose that to be her grievance, I hope soon torestore her to a narrower. 

I am the enemy of her soul, as well as of her honour!--Confoundedlysevere! Nevertheless, another fib!--For I love her soul very well; butthink no more of it in this case than of my own. 

She is to be thrown upon strangers!--And is not that her own fault?--Muchagainst my will, I am sure!

She is cast from a state of independency into one of obligation. Shenever was in a state of independency; nor is it fit a woman should, ofany age, or in any state of life. And as to the state of obligation, there is no such thing as living without being beholden to somebody. Mutual obligation is the very essence and soul of the social andcommercial life:--Why should she be exempt from it? I am sure the personshe raves at desires not such an exemption; has been long dependent uponher; and would rejoice to owe further obligations to her than he canboast of hitherto. 

She talks of her father's curse!--But have I not repaid him for it anhundred fold in the same coin? But why must the faults of other peoplebe laid at my door? Have I not enow of my own?

But the grey-eyed dawn begins to peep--let me sum up all. 

In short, then, the dear creature's letter is a collection of invectivesnot very new to me: though the occasion for them, no doubt is new to her. A little sprinkling of the romantic and contradictory runs through it. She loves, and she hates; she encourages me to pursue her, by telling meI safely may; and yet she begs I will not. She apprehends poverty andwant, yet resolves to give away her estate; To gratify whom?--Why, inshort, those who have been the cause of her misfortunes. And finally, though she resolves never to be mine, yet she has some regrets at leavingme, because of the opening prospects of a reconciliation with herfriends. 

But never did morning dawn so tardily as this!--Neither is the chariotyet come. 

***

A gentleman to speak with me, Dorcas?--Who can want me thus early?

Captain Tomlinson, sayest thou? Surely he must have traveled all night!Early riser as I am, how could he think to find me up thus early?

Let but the chariot come, and he shall accompany me in it to the bottomof the hill, (though he return to town on foot; for the Captain is allobliging goodness, ) that I may hear all he has to say, and tell him allmy mind, and lose no time. 

Well, now I am satisfied that this rebellious flight will turn to myadvantage, as all crushed rebellions do to the advantage of a sovereignin possession. 

***

Dear Captain, I rejoice to see you--just in the nick of time--See! See!

 The rosy-finger'd morn appears, And from her mantle shakes her tears: The sun arising mortals cheers, And drives the rising mists away, In promise of a glorious day. 

Excuse me, Sir, that I salute you from my favourite bard. He that riseswith the lark will sing with the lark. Strange news since I saw you, Captain!--Poor mistaken lady!--But you have too much goodness, I know, toreveal to her uncle Harlowe the error of this capricious beauty. It willall turn out for the best. You must accompany me part of the way. Iknow the delight you take in composing differences. But 'tis the task ofthe prudent to heal the breaches made by the rashness and folly of theimprudent. 

***

And now, (all around me so still and so silent, ) the rattling of thechariot-wheels at a street's distance do I hear! And to this angel of awoman I fly!

Reward, O God of Love! [The cause is thy own!] Reward thou, as itdeserves, my suffering perseverance!--Succeed my endeavours to bring backto thy obedience this charming fugitive! Make her acknowledge herrashness; repent her insults; implore my forgiveness; beg to bereinstated in my favour, and that I will bury in oblivion the remembranceof her heinous offence against thee, and against me, thy faithful votary. 

***

The chariot at the door!--I come! I come!

I attend you, good Captain--

Indeed, Sir--

Pray, Sir--civility is not ceremony. 

And now, dressed as a bridegroom, my heart elated beyond that of the mostdesiring one, (attended by a footman whom my beloved never saw, ) I amalready at Hampstead!

LETTER XXIII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. UPPER-FLASK, HAMPSTEAD. FRI. MORN. 7 O'CLOCK. (JUNE 9. )

I am now here, and here have been this hour and half. --What anindustrious spirit have I!--Nobody can say that I eat the bread ofidleness. I take true pains for all the pleasure I enjoy. I cannotbut admire myself strangely; for certainly, with this active soul, Ishould have made a very great figure in whatever station I had filled. But had I been a prince, (to be sure I should have made a most nobleprince!) I should have led up a military dance equal to that of the greatMacedonian. I should have added kingdom to kingdom, and despoiled allmy neighbour sovereigns, in order to have obtained the name of Robert theGreat! And I would have gone to war with the Great Turk, and thePersian, and Mogul, for the seraglios; for not one of those easternmonarchs should have had a pretty woman to bless himself with till I haddone with her. 

And now I have so much leisure upon my hands, that, after having informedmyself of all necessary particulars, I am set to my short-hand writing inorder to keep up with time as well as I can; for the subject is nowbecome worthy of me; and it is yet too soon, I doubt, to pay mycompliments to my charmer, after all her fatigues for two or three dayspast. And, moreover, I have abundance of matters preparative to myfuture proceedings to recount, in order to connect and render allintelligible. 

I parted with the Captain at the foot of the hill, trebly instructed;that is to say, as to the fact, to the probable, and to the possible. Ifmy beloved and I can meet, and make up without the mediating of thisworthy gentleman, it will be so much the better. As little foreign aidas possible in my amorous conflicts has always been a rule with me;though here I have been obliged to call in so much. And who knows but itmay be the better for the lady the less she makes necessary? I cannotbear that she should sit so indifferent to me as to be in earnest to partwith me for ever upon so slight, or even upon any occasion. If I findshe is--but no more threatenings till she is in my power--thou knowestwhat I have vowed. 

All Will. 's account, from the lady's flight to his finding her again, allthe accounts of the people of the house, the coachman's information toWill. , and so forth, collected together, stand thus:

'The Hampstead coach, when the dear fugitive came to it, had but twopassengers in it. But she made the fellow to go off directly, paying forthe vacant places. 

'The two passengers directing the coachman to set them down at the UpperFlask, she bid him set her down there also. 

'They took leave of her, [very respectfully, no doubt, ] and she went intothe house, and asked, if she could not have a dish of tea, and a room toherself for half an hour. 

'They showed her up to the very room where I now am. She sat at the verytable I now write upon; and, I believe, the chair I sit in was her's. ' OBelford, if thou knowest what love is, thou wilt be able to account forthese minutiae. 

'She seemed spiritless and fatigued. The gentlewoman herself chose toattend so genteel and lovely a guest. She asked her if she would havebread and butter with her tea?

'No. She could not eat. 

'They had very good biscuits. 

'As she pleased. 

'The gentlewoman stept out for some, and returning on a sudden, sheobserved the sweet little fugitive endeavouring to restrain a violentburst of grief to which she had given way in the little interval. 

'However, when the tea came, she made the landlady sit down with her, and asked her abundance of questions, about the villages and roads inthe neighbourhood. 

'The gentlewoman took notice to her, that she seemed to be troubled inmind. 

'Tender spirits, she replied, could not part with dear friends withoutconcern. '

She meant me, no doubt. 

'She made no inquiry about a lodging, though by the sequel, thou'ltobserve, that she seemed to intend to go no farther that night thanHampstead. But after she had drank two dishes, and put a biscuit inher pocket, [sweet soul! to serve for her supper, perhaps, ] she laiddown half-a-crown; and refusing change, sighing, took leave, saying shewould proceed towards Hendon; the distance to which had been one of herquestions. 

'They offered to send to know if a Hampstead coach were not to go toHendon that evening. 

'No matter, she said--perhaps she might meet the chariot. '

Another of her feints, I suppose: for how, or with whom, could any thingof this sort have been concerted since yesterday morning?

'She had, as the people took notice to one another, something souncommonly noble in her air, and in her person and behaviour, that theywere sure she was of quality. And having no servant with her of eithersex, her eyes, [her fine eyes, the gentlewoman called them, stranger asshe was, and a woman!] being swelled and red, they were sure there was anelopement in the case, either from parents or guardians; for theysupposed her too young and too maidenly to be a married lady; and wereshe married, no husband would let such a fine young creature to beunattended and alone; nor give her cause for so much grief, as seemed tobe settled in her countenance. Then at times she seemed to be sobewildered, they said, that they were afraid she had it in her head tomake away with herself. 

'All these things put together, excited their curiosity; and they engageda peery servant, as they called a footman who was drinking with Kit. Thehostler, at the tap-house, to watch all her motions. This fellowreported the following particulars, as they re-reported to me:

'She indeed went towards Hendon, passing by the sign of the Castle on theHeath; then, stopping, looked about her, and down into the valley beforeher. Then, turning her face towards London, she seemed, by the motion ofher handkerchief to her eyes, to weep; repenting [who knows?] the rashstep she had taken, and wishing herself back again. '

Better for her, if she do, Jack, once more I say!--Woe be to the girl whocould think of marrying me, yet to be able to run away from me, andrenounce me for ever!

'Then, continuing on a few paces, she stopt again--and, as if dislikingher road, again seeming to weep, directed her course back towardsHampstead. '

I am glad she wept so much, because no heart bursts, (be the occasion forthe sorrow what it will, ) which has that kindly relief. Hence I hardlyever am moved at the sight of these pellucid fugitives in a fine woman. How often, in the past twelve hours, have I wished that I could cry mostconfoundedly?

'She then saw a coach-and-four driving towards her empty. She crossedthe path she was in, as if to meet it, and seemed to intend to speak tothe coachman, had he stopt or spoken first. He as earnestly looked ather. --Every one did so who passed her, (so the man who dogged her was theless suspected. ')--Happy rogue of a coachman, hadst thou known whosenotice thou didst engage, and whom thou mightest have obliged!--It wasthe divine Clarissa Harlowe at whom thou gazest!--Mine own ClarissaHarlowe!--But it was well for me that thou wert as undistinguishing asthe beasts thou drovest; otherwise, what a wild-goose chace had I beenled?

'The lady, as well as the coachman, in short, seemed to want resolution;--the horses kept on--[the fellow's head and eyes, no doubt, turnedbehind him, ] and the distance soon lengthened beyond recall. With awistful eye she looked after him; sighed and wept again; as the servantwho then slyly passed her, observed. 

'By this time she had reached the houses. She looked up at every one asshe passed; now and then breathing upon her bared hand, and applying itto her swelled eyes, to abate the redness, and dry the tears. At last, seeing a bill up for letting lodgings, she walked backwards and forwardshalf a dozen times, as if unable to determine what to do. And then wentfarther into the town, and there the fellow, being spoken to by one ofhis familiars, lost her for a few minutes: but he soon saw her come outof a linen-drapery shop, attended with a servant-maid, having, as itproved, got that maid-servant to go with her to the house she is now at. *

* See Letter XXI. Of this volume. 

'The fellow, after waiting about an hour, and not seeing her come out, returned, concluding that she had taken lodgings there. '

And here, supposing my narrative of the dramatic kind, ends Act thefirst. And now begins

ACT IISCENE. --Hampstead Heath continued. ENTER MY RASCAL. 

Will. Having got at all these particulars, by exchanging others asfrankly against them, with which I had formerly prepared him bothverbally and in writing. --I found the people already of my party, andfull of good wishes for my success, repeating to me all they told him. 

But he had first acquainted me with the accounts he had given them of hislady and me. It is necessary that I give thee the particulars of histale, and I have a little time upon my hands: for the maid of the house, who had been out of an errand, tells us, that she saw Mrs. Moore, [withwhom must be my first business, ] go into the house of a young gentleman, within a few doors of her, who has a maiden sister, Miss Rawlins by name, so notified for prudence, that none of her acquaintance undertake anything of consequence without consulting her. 

Meanwhile my honest coachman is walking about Miss Rawlin's door, inorder to bring me notice of Mrs. Moore's return to her own house. I hopeher gossip's-tale will be as soon told as mine--which take as follows:--

Will. Told them, before I came, 'That his lady was but lately married toone of the finest gentlemen in the world. But that he, being very gayand lively, she was mortal jealous of him; and, in a fit of that sort, had eloped from him. For although she loved him dearly, and he doatedupon her, (as well he might, since, as they had seen, she was the finestcreature that ever the sun shone upon, ) yet she was apt to be very wilfuland sullen, if he might take liberty to say so--but truth was truth;--andif she could not have her own way in every thing, would be for leavinghim. That she had three or four times played his master such tricks; butwith all the virtue and innocence in the world; running away to anintimate friend of her's, who, though a young lady of honour, was but tooindulgent to her in this only failing; for which reason his master hasbrought her to London lodgings; their usual residence being in thecountry: and that, on his refusing to satisfy her about a lady he hadbeen seen with in St. James's Park, she had, for the first time since shecame to town, served his master thus, whom he had left half-distracted onthis account. '

And truly well he might, poor gentleman! cried the honest folks, pityingme before they saw me. 

'He told them how he came by his intelligence of her; and made himselfsuch an interest with them, that they helped him to a change of clothesfor himself; and the landlord, at his request, privately inquired, if thelady actually remained at Mrs. Moore's, and for how long she had takenthe lodgings?--which he found only to be for a week certain; but she hadsaid, that she believed she should hardly stay so long. And then it wasthat he wrote his letter, and sent it by honest Peter Patrick, as thouhast heard. '

When I came, my person and dress having answered Will. 's description, thepeople were ready to worship me. I now-and-then sighed, now-and-then puton a lighter air; which, however, I designed should show more of vexationill-disguised, than of real cheerfulness; and they told Will. It was sucha thousand pities so fine a lady should have such skittish tricks;adding, that she might expose herself to great dangers by them; for thatthere were rakes every where--[Lovelaces in every corner, Jack!] and manyabout that town, who would leave nothing unattempted to get into hercompany; and although they might not prevail upon her, yet might theynevertheless hurt her reputation; and, in time, estrange the affectionsof so fine a gentleman from her. 

Good sensible people these!--Hey, Jack!

Here, Landlord, one word with you. --My servant, I find, has acquaintedyou with the reason of my coming this way. --An unhappy affair, Landlord!--A very unhappy affair!--But never was there a more virtuous woman. 

So, Sir, she seems to be. A thousand pities her ladyship has such ways--and to so good-humoured a gentleman as you seem to be, Sir. 

Mother-spoilt, Landlord!--Mother-spoilt!--that's the thing!--But[sighing] I must make the best of it. What I want you to do for me is tolend me a great-coat. --I care not what it is. If my spouse should see meat a distance, she would make it very difficult for me to get at herspeech. A great-coat with a cape, if you have one. I must come upon herbefore she is aware. 

I am afraid, Sir, I have none fit for such a gentleman as you. 

O, any thing will do!--The worse the better. 

Exit Landlord. --Re-enter with two great-coats. 

Ay, Landlord, this will be best; for I can button the cape over the lowerpart of my face. Don't I look devilishly down and concerned, Landlord?

I never saw a gentleman with a better-natured look. --'Tis pity you shouldhave such trials, Sir. 

I must be very unhappy, no doubt of it, Landlord. --And yet I am a littlepleased, you must needs think, that I have found her out before any greatinconvenience has arisen to her. However, if I cannot break her of thesefreaks, she'll break my heart; for I do love her with all her failings. 

The good woman, who was within hearing of all this, pitied me much. 

Pray, your Honour, said she, if I may be so bold, was madam ever a mamma?

No--[and I sighed. ]--We have been but a little while married; and as Imay say to you, it is her own fault that she is not in that way. [Not aword of a lie in this, Jack. ] But to tell you truth, Madam, she may becompared to the dog in the manger--

I understand you, Sir, [simpering, ] she is but young, Sir. I have heardof one or two such skittish young ladies, in my time, Sir. --But whenmadam is in that way, I dare say, as she loves you, (and it would bestrange if she did not!) all this will be over, and she may make the bestof wives. 

That's all my hope. 

She is a fine lady as I ever beheld. --I hope, Sir, you won't be toosevere. She'll get over all these freaks, if once she be a mamma, Iwarrant. 

I can't be severe to her--she knows that. The moment I see her, allresentment is over with me, if she gives me but one kind look. 

All this time I was adjusting the horseman's coat, and Will. Was puttingin the ties of my wig, * and buttoning the cape over my chin. 

* The fashionable wigs at that time. 

I asked the gentlewoman for a little powder. She brought me a powder-box, and I slightly shook the puff over my hat, and flapt one side of it, though the lace looked a little too gay for my covering; and, slouchingit over my eyes, Shall I be known, think you, Madam?

Your Honour is so expert, Sir!--I wish, if I may be so bold, your ladyhas not some cause to be jealous. But it will be impossible, if you keepyour laced clothes covered, that any body should know you in that dressto be the same gentleman--except they find you out by your clockedstockings. 

Well observed--Can't you, Landlord, lend or sell me a pair of stockings, that will draw over these? I can cut off the feet, if they won't go intomy shoes. 

He could let me have a pair of coarse, but clean, stirrup stockings, if Ipleased. 

The best in the world for the purpose. 

He fetch'd them. Will. Drew them on; and my legs then made a good goutyappearance. 

The good woman smiling, wished me success; and so did the landlord. Andas thou knowest that I am not a bad mimic, I took a cane, which Iborrowed of the landlord, and stooped in the shoulders to a quarter of afoot less height, and stumped away cross to the bowling-green, topractise a little the hobbling gait of a gouty man. --The landladywhispered her husband, as Will. Tells me, He's a good one, I warrant him--I dare say the fault lies not at all of one side. While mine hostreplied, That I was so lively and so good-natured a gentleman, that hedid not know who could be angry with me, do what I would. A sensiblefellow!--I wish my charmer were of the same opinion. 

And now I am going to try if I can't agree with goody Moore for lodgingsand other conveniencies for my sick wife. 

'Wife, Lovelace?' methinks thou interrogatest. 

Yes, wife, for who knows what cautions the dear fugitive may have givenin apprehension of me?

'But has goody Moore any other lodgings to let?'

Yes, yes; I have taken care of that; and find that she has just suchconveniencies as I want. And I know that my wife will like them. For, although married, I can do every thing I please; and that's a bold word, you know. But had she only a garret to let, I would have liked it; andbeen a poor author afraid of arrests, and made that my place of refuge;yet would have made shift to pay beforehand for what I had. I can suitmyself to any condition, that's my comfort. 

***

The widow Moore returned! say you?--Down, down, flutterer!--Thisimpertinent heart is more troublesome to me than my conscience, I think. --I shall be obliged to hoarsen my voice, and roughen my character, tokeep up with its puppily dancings. 

But let me see, shall I be angry or pleased when I am admitted to mybeloved's presence?

Angry to be sure. --Has she not broken her word with me?--At a time toowhen I was meditating to do her grateful justice?--And is not breach ofword a dreadful crime in good folks?--I have ever been for forming myjudgment of the nature of things and actions, not so much from what theyare in themselves, as from the character of the actors. Thus it would beas odd a thing in such as we to keep our words with a woman, as it wouldbe wicked in her to break her's to us. 

Seest thou not that this unseasonable gravity is admitted to quell thepalpitations of this unmanageable heart? But still it will go on withits boundings. I'll try as I ride in my chariot to tranquilize. 

'Ride, Bob! so little a way?'

Yes, ride, Jack; for am I not lame? And will it not look well to have alodger who keeps his chariot? What widow, what servant, asks questionsof a man with an equipage?

My coachman, as well as my other servant, is under Will. 's tuition. 

Never was there such a hideous rascal as he has made himself. The devilonly and his other master can know him. They both have set their marksupon him. As to my honour's mark, it will never be out of his dam'd widemothe, as he calls it. For the dog will be hanged before he can lose therest of his teeth by age. 

I am gone. 

LETTER XXIV

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. HAMPSTEAD, FRIDAY NIGHT, JUNE 9. 

Now, Belford, for the narrative of narratives. I will continue it as Ihave opportunity; and that so dexterously, that, if I break off twentytimes, thou shalt not discern where I piece my thread. 

Although grievously afflicted with the gout, I alighted out of my chariot(leaning very hard on my cane with one hand, and on my new servant'sshoulder with the other) the same instant almost that he had knocked atthe door, that I might be sure of admission into the house. 

I took care to button my great coat about me, and to cover with it eventhe pummel of my sword, it being a little too gay for my years. I knewnot what occasion I might have for my sword. I stooped forward; blinkedwith my eyes to conceal their lustre (no vanity in saying that, Jack); mychin wrapt up for the tooth-ache; my slouched, laced hat, and so much ofmy wig as was visible, giving me, all together, the appearance of anantiquated beau. 

My wife, I resolved beforehand, should have a complication of disorders. 

The maid came to the door. I asked for her mistress. She showed me intoone of the parlours; and I sat down with a gouty Oh!--

ENTER GOODY MOORE. 

Your servant, Madam--but you must excuse me; I cannot well stand--I findby the bill at the door, that you have lodgings to let [mumbling my wordsas if, like my man Will. , I had lost some of my fore-teeth]: be pleasedto inform me what they are; for I like your situation--and I will tellyou my family--I have a wife, a good old woman--older than myself, by theway, a pretty deal. She is in a bad state of health, and is advised intothe Hampstead air. She will have two maid servants and a footman. Thecoach or chariot (I shall not have them put up both together) we can putup any where, and the coachman will be with his horses. 

When, Sir, shall you want to come in?

I will take them from this very day; and, if convenient, will bring mywife in the afternoon. 

Perhaps, Sir, you would board, as well as lodge?

That as you please. It will save me the trouble of bringing my cook, ifwe do. And I suppose you have servants who know how to dress a couple ofdishes. My wife must eat plain food, and I don't love kickshaws. 

We have a single lady, who will be gone in two or three days. She hasone of the best apartments: that will then be at liberty. 

You have one or two good ones mean time, I presume, Madam, just toreceive my wife; for we have lost time--these damn'd physicians--excuseme, Madam, I am not used to curse; but it is owing to the love I have formy wife--they have kept her in hand, till they are ashamed to take morefees, and now advise her to the air. I wish we had sent her hither atfirst. But we must now make the best of it. 

Excuse me, Madam, [for she looked hard at me, ] that I am muffled up inthis warm weather. I am but too sensible that I have left my chambersooner that I ought, and perhaps shall have a return of my gout for it. I came out thus muffled up with a dreadful pain in my jaws; an ague inthem, I believe. But my poor dear will not be satisfied with any body'scare but mine. And, as I told thee, we have lost time. 

You shall see what accommodations I have, if you please, Sir. But Idoubt you are too lame to walk up stairs. 

I can make shift to hobble up now I have rested a little. I'll just lookupon the apartment my wife is to have. Any thing may do for theservants: and as you seem to be a good sort of gentlewoman, I shan'tstand for a price, and will pay well besides for the trouble I shallgive. 

She led the way; and I, helping myself by the banisters, made shift toget up with less fatigue than I expected from ancles so weak. But oh!Jack, what was Sixtus the Vth. 's artful depression of his natural powersto mine, when, as this half-dead Montalto, he gaped for the pretendedlyunsought pontificate, and the moment he was chosen leapt upon theprancing beast, which it was thought by the amazed conclave he was notable to mount, without help of chairs and men? Never was there a morejoyful heart and lighter heels than mine joined together; yet both deniedtheir functions; the one fluttering in secret, ready to burst its barsfor relief-ful expression, the others obliged to an hobbling motion;when, unrestrained, they would, in their master's imagination, havemounted him to the lunar world without the help of a ladder. 

There were three rooms on a floor: two of them handsome; and the third, she said, still handsomer; but the lady was in it. 

I saw, I saw she was! for as I hobbled up, crying out upon my weakancles, in the hoarse mumbling voice I had assumed, I beheld a littlepiece of her as she just cast an eye (with the door a-jar, as they callit) to observe who was coming up; and, seeing such an old clumsy fellow, great coated in weather so warm, slouched and muffled up, she withdrew, shutting the door without any emotion. But it was not so with me; forthou canst not imagine how my heart danced to my mouth, at the veryglimpse of her; so that I was afraid the thump, thump, thumping villain, which had so lately thumped as much to no purpose, would have choked me. 

I liked the lodging well; and the more as she said the third room wasstill handsomer. I must sit down, Madam, [and chose the darkest part ofthe room]: Won't you take a seat yourself?--No price shall part us--but Iwill leave the terms to you and my wife, if you please. And also whetherfor board or not. Only please to take this for earnest, putting a guineainto her hand--and one thing I will say; my poor wife loves money; but isnot an ill-natured woman. She was a great fortune to me: but, as the realestate goes away at her death, I would fain preserve her for that reason, as well as for the love I bear her as an honest man. But if she makestoo close a bargain with you, tell me; and, unknown to her, I will makeit up. This is my constant way: she loves to have her pen'orths; and Iwould not have her vexed or made uneasy on any account. 

She said, I was a very considerate gentleman; and, upon the condition Ihad mentioned, she was content to leave the terms to my lady. 

But, Madam, cannot a body just peep into the other apartment; that I maybe more particular to my wife in the furniture of it?

The lady desires to be private, Sir--but--and was going to ask her leave. 

I caught hold of her arm--However, stay, stay, Madam: it mayn't beproper, if the lady loves to be private. Don't let me intrude upon thelady--

No intrusion, Sir, I dare say: the lady is good-humoured. She will be sokind as to step down into the parlour, I dare say. As she stays solittle a while, I am sure she will not wish to stand in my way. 

No, Madam, that's true, if she be good-humoured, as you say--Has she beenwith you long, Madam?

She came but yesterday, Sir--

I believe I just now saw the glimpse of her. She seems to be an elderlylady. 

No, Sir! you're mistaken. She's a young lady; and one of the handsomestI ever saw. 

Cot so, I beg her pardon! Not but that I should have liked her thebetter, were she to stay longer, if she had been elderly. I have astrange taste, Madam, you'll say; but I really, for my wife's sake, loveevery elderly woman. Indeed I ever thought age was to be reverenced, which made me (taking the fortune into the scale too, that I own) make myaddresses to my present dear. 

Very good of you, Sir, to respect age: we all hope to live to be old. 

Right, Madam. --But you say the lady is beautiful. Now you must know, that though I choose to converse with the elderly, yet I love to see abeautiful young woman, just as I love to see fine flowers in a garden. There's no casting an eye upon her, is there, without her notice? For inthis dress, and thus muffled up about my jaws, I should not care to beseen any more than she, let her love privacy as much as she will. 

I will go and ask if I may show a gentleman the apartment, Sir; and, asyou are a married gentleman, and not over young, she'll perhaps make theless scruple. 

Then, like me, she loves elderly folks best perhaps. But it may be shehas suffered by young ones. 

I fancy she has, Sir, or is afraid she shall. She desired to be veryprivate; and if by description inquired after, to be denied. 

Thou art a true woman, goody Moore, thought I. 

Good lack--good lack!--What may be her story then, I pray?

She is pretty reserved in her story: but, to tell you my thoughts, Ibelieve love is in the case: she is always in tears, and does not muchcare for company. 

Nay, Madam, it becomes not me to dive into ladies' secrets; I want not topry into other people's affairs. But, pray, how does she employherself?--Yet she came but yesterday; so you can't tell. 

Writing continually, Sir. 

These women, Jack, when you ask them questions by way of information, don't care to be ignorant of any thing. 

Nay, excuse me, Madam, I am very far from being an inquisitive man. Butif her case be difficult, and not merely love, as she is a friend ofyour's, I would give her my advice. 

Then you are a lawyer, Sir--

Why, indeed, Madam, I was some time at the bar; but I have long leftpractice; yet am much consulted by my friends in difficult points. In apauper case I frequently give money; but never take any from the richest. 

You are a very good gentleman, then, Sir. 

Ay, Madam, we cannot live always here; and we ought to do what good wecan--but I hate to appear officious. If the lady stay any time, andthink fit, upon better acquaintance, to let me into her case, it may be ahappy day for her, if I find it a just one; for, you must know, that whenI was at the bar, I never was such a sad fellow as to undertake, for thesake of a paltry fee, to make white black, and black white: For whatwould that have been, but to endeavour to establish iniquity by quirks, while I robbed the innocent?

You are an excellent gentleman, Sir: I wish [and then she sighed] I hadhad the happiness to know there was such a lawyer in the world; and tohave been acquainted with him. 

Come, come, Mrs. Moore, I think your name is, it may not be too late--when you and I are better acquainted, I may help you perhaps. --Butmention nothing of this to the lady: for, as I said, I hate to appearofficious. 

This prohibition, I knew, if goody Moore answered the specimen she hadgiven of her womanhood, would make her take the first opportunity totell, were it to be necessary to my purpose that she should. 

I appeared, upon the whole, so indifferent about seeing the room, or thelady, that the good woman was the more eager I should see both. And therather, as I, to stimulate her, declared, that there was more required inmy eye to merit the character of a handsome woman, than most peoplethought necessary; and that I had never seen six truly lovely women in mylife. 

To be brief, she went in; and after a little while came out again. Thelady, Sir, is retired to her closet. So you may go in and look at theroom. 

Then how my heart began again to play its pug's tricks!

I hobbled in, and stumped about, and liked it very much; and was sure mywife would. I begged excuse for sitting down, and asked, who was theminister of the place? If he were a good preacher? Who preached at theChapel? And if he were a good preacher, and a good liver too, Madam--Imust inquire after that: for I love, but I must needs say, that theclergy should practise what they preach. 

Very right, Sir; but that is not so often the case as were to be wished. 

More's the pity, Madam. But I have a great veneration for the clergy ingeneral. It is more a satire upon human nature than upon the cloth, ifwe suppose those who have the best opportunities to do good, less perfectthan other people. For my part, I don't love professional any more thannational reflections. --But I keep the lady in her closet. My gout makesme rude. 

Then up from my seat stumped I--what do you call these window-curtains, Madam?

Stuff-damask, Sir. 

It looks mighty well, truly. I like it better than silk. It is warmerto be sure, and much fitter for lodgings in the country; especially forpeople in years. The bed is in a pretty state. 

It is neat and clean, Sir: that's all we pretend to. 

Ay, mighty well--very well--a silk camblet, I think--very well, truly!--Iam sure my wife will like it. But we would not turn the lady out of herlodgings for the world. The other two apartments will do for us atpresent. 

Then stumping towards the closet, over the door of which hung apicture--What picture is that--Oh! I see; a St. Cecilia!

A common print, Sir!

Pretty well, pretty well! It is after an Italian master. --I would notfor the world turn the lady out of her apartment. We can make shift withthe other two, repeated I, louder still: but yet mumblingly hoarse: for Ihad as great regard to uniformity in accent, as to my words. 

O Belford! to be so near my angel, think what a painful constraint I wasunder. 

I was resolved to fetch her out, if possible: and pretending to begoing--you can't agree as to any time, Mrs. Moore, when we can have thisthird room, can you?--Not that [whispered I, loud enough to be heard inthe next room; not that] I would incommode the lady: but I would tell mywife when abouts--and women, you know, Mrs. Moore, love to have everything before them of this nature. 

Mrs. Moore (said my charmer) [and never did her voice sound so harmoniousto me: Oh! how my heart bounded again! It even talked to me, in amanner; for I thought I heard, as well as felt, its unruly flutters; andevery vein about me seemed a pulse; Mrs. Moore] you may acquaint thegentleman, that I shall stay here only for two or three days at most, till I receive an answer to a letter I have written into the country; andrather than be your hindrance, I will take up with any apartment a pairof stairs higher. 

Not for the world!--Not for the world, young lady! cried I. --My wife, asI love her, should lie in a garret, rather than put such a considerateyoung lady, as you seem to be, to the least inconveniency. 

She opened not the door yet; and I said, but since you have so muchgoodness, Madam, if I could but just look into the closet as I stand, Icould tell my wife whether it is large enough to hold a cabinet she muchvalues, and ill have with her wherever she goes. 

Then my charmer opened the door, and blazed upon me, as it were, in aflood of light, like what one might imagine would strike a man, who, bornblind, had by some propitious power been blessed with his sight, all atonce, in a meridian sun. 

Upon my soul, I never was so strangely affected before. I had much adoto forbear discovering myself that instant: but, hesitatingly, and ingreat disorder, I said, looking into the closet and around it, there isroom, I see, for my wife's cabinet; and it has many jewels in it of highprice; but, upon my soul, [for I could not forbear swearing, like apuppy: habit is a cursed thing, Jack--] nothing so valuable as a lady Isee, can be brought into it. 

She started, and looked at me with terror. The truth of the compliment, as far as I know, had taken dissimulation from my accent. 

I saw it was impossible to conceal myself longer from her, any more than(from the violent impulses of my passion) to forbear manifesting myself. I unbuttoned therefore my cape, I pulled off my flapt slouched hat; Ithrew open my great coat, and, like the devil in Milton [an oddcomparison though!]--

 I started up in my own form divine, Touch'd by the beam of her celestial eye, More potent than Ithuriel's spear!--

Now, Belford, for a similitude--now for a likeness to illustrate thesurprising scene, and the effect it had upon my charmer, and thegentlewoman!--But nothing was like it, or equal to it. The plain factcan only describe it, and set it off--thus then take it. 

She no sooner saw who it was, than she gave three violent screams; and, before I could catch her in my arms, (as I was about to do the moment Idiscovered myself, ) down she sunk at my feet in a fit; which made mecurse my indiscretion for so suddenly, and with so much emotion, revealing myself. 

The gentlewoman, seeing so strange an alteration in my person, andfeatures, and voice, and dress, cried out, Murder, help! murder, help! byturns, for half a dozen times running. This alarmed the house, and upran two servant maids, and my servant after them. I cried out for waterand hartshorn, and every one flew a different way, one of the maids asfast down as she came up; while the gentlewoman ran out of one room intoanother, and by turns up and down the apartment we were in, withoutmeaning or end, wringing her foolish hands, and not knowing what she did. 

Up then came running a gentleman and his sister, fetched, and brought inby the maid, who had run down, and having let in a cursed crabbed oldwretch, hobbling with his gout, and mumbling with his hoarsebroken-toothed voice, who was metamorphosed all at once into a lively, gay young fellow, with a clear accent, and all his teeth, she would haveit, that I was neither more nor less than the devil, and could not keepher eye from my foot, expecting, no doubt, every minute to see itdiscover itself to be cloven. 

For my part, I was so intent upon restoring my angel, that I regardednobody else. And, at last, she slowly recovering motion, with bittersighs and sobs, (only the whites of her eyes however appearing for somemoments, ) I called upon her in the tenderest accent, as I kneeled by her, my arm supporting her head, My angel! my charmer! my Clarissa! look uponme, my dearest life!--I am not angry with you; I will forgive you, mybest beloved. 

The gentleman and his sister knew not what to make of all this: and theless, when my fair-one, recovering her sight, snatched another look atme; and then again groaned, and fainted away. 

I threw up the closet-sash for air, and then left her to the care of theyoung gentlewoman, the same notable Miss Rawlins, who I had heard of atthe Flask: and to that of Mrs. Moore; who by this time had recoveredherself; and then retiring to one corner of the room, I made my servantpull off my gouty stockings, brush my hat, and loop it up into the usualsmart cock. 

I then stept to the closet to Mr. Rawlins, whom, in the generalconfusion, I had not much minded before. --Sir, said I, you have anuncommon scene before you. The lady is my wife, and no gentleman'spresence is necessary here but my own. 

I beg pardon, Sir; if the lady be your wife, I have no business here. But, Sir, by her concern at seeing you--

Pray, Sir, none of your if's and but's, I beseech you: nor your concernabout the lady's concern. You are a very unqualified judge in thiscause; and I beg of you, Sir, to oblige me with your absence. The womenonly are proper to be present on this occasion, added I; and I thinkmyself obliged to them for their care and kind assistance. 

'Tis well he made not another word: for I found my choler begin to rise. I could not bear, that the finest neck, and arms, and foot, in the world, should be exposed to the eyes of any man living but mine. 

I withdrew once more from the closet, finding her beginning to recover, lest the sight of me too soon should throw her back again. 

The first words she said, looking round her with great emotion, were, Oh!hide me, hide me! Is he gone?--Oh! hide me!--Is he gone?

Sir, said Miss Rawlins, coming to me with an air both peremptory andassured, This is some surprising case. The lady cannot bear the sight ofyou. What you have done is best known to yourself. But another such fitwill probably be her last. It would be but kind therefore for you toretire. 

It behoved me to have so notable a person of my party; and the rather asI had disobliged her impertinent brother. 

The dear creature, said I, may well, be concerned to see me. If you, Madam, had a husband who loved you as I love her, you would not, I amconfident, fly from him, and expose yourself to hazards, as she doeswhenever she has not all her way--and yet with a mind not capable ofintentional evil--but mother-spoilt!--This is her fault, and all herfault: and the more inexcusable it is, as I am the man of her choice, andhave reason to think she loves me above all the men in the world. 

Here, Jack, was a story to support to the lady; face to face too!*

* And here, Belford, lest thou, through inattention, should be surprisedat my assurance, let me remind thee (and that, thus, by way of marginalobservation, that I may not break in upon my narrative) that this myintrepidity concerted (as I have from time to time acquainted thee) inapprehension of such an event as has fallen out. For had not the dearcreature already passed for my wife before no less than four worthygentlemen of family and fortune?** and before Mrs. Sinclair, and herhousehold, and Miss Partington? And had she not agreed to her uncle'sexpedient, that she should pass for such, from the time of Mr. Hickman'sapplication to that uncle;*** and that the worthy Capt. Tomlinson shouldbe allowed to propagate that belief: as he had actually reported to twofamilies (they possibly to more); purposely that it might come to theears of James Harlowe; and serve for a foundation for uncle John to buildhis reconciliation-scheme upon?� And canst thou think that nothing wasmeant by all this contrivance? and that I am not still further preparedto support my story?

** See Vol. IV. Letter IV. Towards the conclusion. *** Ibid. Letter XVI. � Ibid. 

Indeed, I little thought, at the time that I formed these precautionaryschemes, that she would ever have been able, if willing, to get out of myhands. All that I hoped I should have occasion to have recourse to themfor, was only, in case I should have the courage to make the grandattempt, and should succeed in it, to bring the dear creature [and thisout of tenderness to her, for what attention did I ever yet pay to thegrief, the execrations, the tears of a woman I had triumphed over?] tobear me in her sight: to expostulate with me, to be pacified by my pleas, and by my own future hopes, founded upon the reconciliatory-project, uponmy reiterated vows, and upon the Captain's assurances. Since in thatcase, to forgive me, to have gone on with me, for a week, would have beento forgive me, to have gone on with me, for ever. And that, had myeligible life of honour taken place, her trials would all have been thenover: and she would have known nothing but gratitude, love, and joy, tothe end of one of our lives. For never would I, never could I, haveabandoned such an admirable creature as this. Thou knowest I never was asordid villain to any of her inferiors--Her inferiors, I may say--For whois not her inferior?

You speak like a gentleman; you look like a gentleman, said MissRawlins--but, Sir, this is a strange case; the lady sees to dread thesight of you. 

No wonder, Madam; taking her a little on one side, nearer to Mrs. Moore. I have three times already forgiven the dear creature--but this isjealousy!--There is a spice of that in it--and of phrensy too [whisperedI, that it might have the face of a secret, and of consequence the moreengage their attention]--but our story is too long. 

I then made a motion to go to my beloved. But they desired that I wouldwalk into the next room; and they would endeavour to prevail upon her tolie down. 

I begged that they would not suffer her to talk; for that she wasaccustomed to fits, and, when in this way, would talk of any thing thatcame uppermost: and the more she was suffered to run on, the worse shewas; and if not kept quiet, would fall into ravings: which might possiblyhold her a week. 

The promised to keep her quiet; and I withdrew into the next room;ordering every one down but Mrs. Moore and Miss Rawlins. 

She was full of exclamations! Unhappy creature! miserable! ruined! andundone! she called herself; wrung her hands, and begged they would assisther to escape from the terrible evils she should otherwise be made tosuffer. 

They preached patience and quietness to her; and would have had her tolie down: but she refused; sinking, however, into an easy chair; for shetrembled so she could not stand. 

By this time, I hoped, that she was enough recovered to bear a presencethat it behoved me to make her bear; and fearing she would throw outsomething in her exclamations, that would still more disconcert me, Iwent into the room again. 

O there he is! said she, and threw her apron over her face--I cannot seehim!--I cannot look upon him!--Begone, begone! touch me not!--

For I took her struggling hand, beseeching her to be pacified; andassuring her, that I would make all up with her upon her own terms andwishes. 

Base man! said the violent lady, I have no wishes, but never to beholdyou more! Why must I be thus pursued and haunted? Have you not made memiserable enough already?--Despoiled of all succour and help, and ofevery friend, I am contented to be poor, low, and miserable, so I maylive free from your persecutions. 

Miss Rawlins stared at me [a confident slut this Miss Rawlins, thoughtI]: so did Mrs. Moore. I told you so! whispering said I, turning to thewomen; shaking my head with a face of great concern and pity; and then tomy charmer, My dear creature, how you rave! You will not easily recoverfrom the effects of this violence. Have patience, my love. Be pacified;and we will coolly talk this matter over: for you expose yourself, aswell as me: these ladies will certainly think you have fallen amongrobbers, and that I am the chief of them. 

So you are! so you are! stamping, her face still covered [she thought ofWednesday night, no doubt]; and, sighing as if her heart were breaking, she put her hand to her forehead--I shall be quite distracted!

I will not, my dearest love, uncover your face. You shall not look uponme, since I am so odious to you. But this is a violence I never thoughtyou capable of. 

And I would have pressed her hand, as I held it, with my lips; but shedrew it from me with indignation. 

Unhand me, Sir, said she. I will not be touched by you. Leave me to myfate. What right, what title, have you to persecute me thus?

What right, what title, my dear!--But this is not a time--I have a letterfrom Captain Tomlinson--here it is--offering it to her--

I will receive nothing from your hands--tell me not of CaptainTomlinson--tell me not of any body--you have no right to invade me thus--once more leave me to my fate--have you not made me miserable enough?

I touched a delicate string, on purpose to set her in such a passionbefore the women, as might confirm the intimation I had given of aphrensical disorder. 

What a turn is here!--Lately so happy--nothing wanting but areconciliation between you and your friends!--That reconciliation in sucha happy train--shall so slight, so accidental an occasion be suffered tooverturn all our happiness?

She started up with a trembling impatience, her apron falling from herindignant face--now, said she, that thou darest to call the occasionslight and accidental, and that I am happily out of thy vile hands, andout of a house I have reason to believe as vile, traitor and wretch asthou art, I will venture to cast an eye upon thee--and Oh! that it werein my power, in mercy to my sex, to look thee first into shame andremorse, and then into death!

This violent tragedy-speech, and the high manner in which she uttered it, had its desired effect. I looked upon the women, and upon her by turns, with a pitying eye; and they shook their wise heads, and besought me toretire, and her to lie down to compose herself. 

This hurricane, like other hurricanes, was presently allayed by a shower. She threw herself once more into her armed chair, and begged pardon ofthe women for her passionate excess; but not of me: yet I was in hopes, that when compliments were stirring, I should have come in for a share. 

Indeed, Ladies, said I, [with assurance enough, thou'lt say, ] thisviolence is not natural to my beloved's temper--misapprehension--

Misapprehension, wretch!--And want I excuses from thee!

Bu what a scorn was every lovely feature agitated!

Then turning her face from me, I have not patience, O thou guilefulbetrayer, to look upon thee! Begone! Begone! With a face sounblushing, how darest thou appear in my presence?

I thought then, that the character of a husband obliged me to be angry. 

You may one day, Madam, repent this treatment:--by my soul, you may. Youknow I have not deserved it of you--you know--I have not. 

Do I know you have not?--Wretch! Do I know--

You do, Madam--and never did man of my figure and consideration, [Ithought it was proper to throw that in] meet with such treatment--

She lifted up her hands: indignation kept her silent. 

But all is of a piece with the charge you bring against me of despoilingyou of all succour and help, of making you poor and low, and with otherunprecedented language. I will only say, before these two gentlewomen, that since it must be so, and since your former esteem for me is turnedinto so riveted an aversion, I will soon, very soon, make you entirelyeasy. I will be gone:--I will leave you to your own fate, as you callit; and may that be happy!--Only, that I may not appear to be a spoiler, a robber indeed, let me know whither I shall send your apparel, and everything that belongs to you, and I will send it. 

Send it to this place; and assure me, that you will never molest me more;never more come near me; and that is all I ask of you. 

I will do so, Madam, said I, with a dejected air. But did I ever think Ishould be so indifferent to you?--However, you must permit me to insiston your reading this letter; and on your seeing Captain Tomlinson, andhearing what he has to say from your uncle. He will be here by-and-by. 

Don't trifle with me, said she in an imperious tone--do as you offer. Iwill not receive any letter from your hands. If I see Captain Tomlinson, it shall be on his own account, not on your's. You tell me you will sendme my apparel--if you would have me believe any thing you say, let thisbe the test of your sincerity. --Leave me now, and send my things. 

The women started. --They did nothing but stare; and appeared to be moreand more at a loss what to make of the matter between us. 

I pretended to be going from her in a pet; but, when I had got to thedoor, I turned back; and, as if I had recollected myself--One word more, my dearest creature!--Charming, even in your anger!--O my fond soul! saidI, turning half round, and pulling out my handkerchief. --

I believe, Jack, my eyes did glisten a little. I have no doubt but theydid. The women pitied me--honest souls! They showed they had each ofthem a handkerchief as well as I. So, has thou not observed (to give afamiliar illustration, ) every man in a company of a dozen, or more, obligingly pull out his watch, when some one has asked what's o'clock?--As each man of a like number, if one talks of his beard, will fall tostroking his chin with his four fingers and thumb. 

One word only, Madam, repeated I, (as soon as my voice had recovered itstone, ) I have represented to Captain Tomlinson in the most favourablelight the cause of our present misunderstanding. You know what youruncle insists upon, and with which you have acquiesced. --The letter in myhand, [and again I offered it to her, ] will acquaint you with what youhave to apprehend from your brother's active malice. 

She was going to speak in a high accent, putting the letter from her, with an open palm--Nay, hear me out, Madam--The Captain, you know, hasreported our marriage to two different persons. It is come to yourbrother's ears. My own relations have also heard of it. --Letters werebrought me from town this morning, from Lady Betty Lawrance, and MissMontague. Here they are. [I pulled them out of my pocket, and offeredthem to her, with that of the Captain; but she held back her still openpalm, that she might not receive them. ] Reflect, Madam, I beseech you, reflect upon the fatal consequences with which this, your highresentment, may be attended. 

Ever since I knew you, said she, I have been in a wilderness of doubtand error. I bless God that I am out of your hands. I will transact formyself what relates to myself. I dismiss all your solicitude for me. --Am I not my own mistress?--Have you any title?--

The women stared--[the devil stare ye, thought I!--Can ye do nothing butstare?]--It was high time to stop her here. 

I raised my voice to drown her's. --You used, my dearest creature, to havea tender and apprehensive heart. --You never had so much reason for such aone as now. 

Let me judge for myself, upon what I shall see, not upon what I shallhear. --Do you think I shall ever?--

I dreaded her going on--I must be heard, Madam, (raising my voice stillhigher, )--you must let me read one paragraph or two out of this letter toyou, if you will not read it yourself--

Begone from me, Man!--Begone from me with thy letters! What pretencehast thou for tormenting me thus? What right?--What title?--

Dearest creature! what questions you ask!--Questions that you can as wellanswer yourself--

I can, I will, and thus I answer them--

Still louder I raised my voice. --She was overborne. --Sweet soul! Itwould be hard, thought I, [and yet I was very angry with her, ] if such aspirit as thine cannot be brought to yield to such a one as mine!

I lowered my voice on her silence. All gentle, all intreative, myaccent. My head bowed--one hand held out--the other on my honest heart. --For heaven's sake, my dearest creature, resolve to see CaptainTomlinson with temper. He would have come along with me, but I waswilling to try to soften your mind first on this fatal misapprehension, and this for the same of your own wishes. For what is it otherwise tome, whether your friends are, or are not, reconciled to us?--Do I wantany favour from them?--For your own mind's sake, therefore, frustrate notCaptain Tomlinson's negociation. That worthy gentleman will be here inthe afternoon; Lady Betty will be in town, with my cousin Montague, in aday or two. --They will be your visiters. I beseech you do not carry thismisunderstanding so far, as that Lord M. And Lady Betty, and Lady Sarah, may know it. [How considerable this made me look to the women!] LadyBetty will not let you rest till you consent to accompany her to her ownseat--and to that lady may you safely intrust your cause. 

Again, upon my pausing a moment, she was going to break out. I liked notthe turn of her countenance, nor the tone of her voice--'And thinkestthou, base wretch, ' were the words she did utter: I again raised myvoice, and drowned her's. --Base wretch, Madam?--You know that I have notdeserved the violent names you have called me. Words so opprobrious froma mind so gentle!--But this treatment is from you, Madam?--From you, whomI love more than my own soul!--By that soul, I swear that I do. --[Thewomen looked upon each other--they seemed pleased with my ardour. --Women, whether wives, maids, or widows, love ardours: even Miss Howe, thouknowest, speaks up for ardours, *]--Nevertheless, I must say, that youhave carried matters too far for the occasion. I see you hate me--

* See Vol. IV. Letters XXIX. And XXXIV. 

She was just going to speak--If we are to separate for ever, in a strongand solemn voice, proceeded I, this island shall not long be troubledwith me. Mean time, only be pleased to give these letters a perusal, andconsider what is to be said to your uncle's friend, and what he is to sayto your uncle. --Any thing will I come into, (renounce me, if you will, )that shall make for your peace, and for the reconciliation your heart wasso lately set upon. But I humbly conceive, that it is necessary that youshould come into better temper with me, were it but to give a favourableappearance to what has passed, and weight to any future application toyour friends, in whatever way you shall think proper to make it. 

I then put the letters into her lap, and retired into the next apartmentwith a low bow, and a very solemn air. 

I was soon followed by the two women. Mrs. Moore withdrew to give thefair perverse time to read them: Miss Rawlins for the same reason, andbecause she was sent for home. 

The widow besought her speedy return. I joined in the same request; andshe was ready enough to promise to oblige us. 

I excused myself to Mrs. Moore for the disguise I had appeared in atfirst, and for the story I had invented. I told her that I held myselfobliged to satisfy her for the whole floor we were upon; and for an upperroom for my servant, and that for a month certain. 

She made many scruples, and begged she might not be urged, on this head, till she had consulted Miss Rawlins. 

I consented; but told her, that she had taken my earnest, and I hopedthere was no room for dispute. 

Just then Miss Rawlins returned, with an air of eager curiosity; andhaving been told what had passed between Mrs. Moore and me, she gaveherself airs of office immediately: which I humoured, plainly perceivingthat if I had her with me I had the other. 

She wished, if there were time for it, and if it were not quiteimpertinent in her to desire it, that I would give Mrs. Moore and her abrief history of an affair, which, as she said, bore the face of novelty, mystery, and surprise. For sometimes it looked to her as if we weremarried; at other times that point appeared doubtful; and yet the ladydid not absolutely deny it, but, upon the whole, thought herself highlyinjured. 

I said that our's was a very particular case. --That, were I to acquaintthem with it, some part of it would hardly appear credible. But, however, as they seemed hardly to be persons of discretion, I would givethem a brief account of the whole; and this in so plain and sincere amanner, that it should clear up, to their satisfaction, every thing thathad passed, or might hereafter pass between us. 

They sat down by me and threw every feature of their faces intoattention. I was resolved to go as near the truth as possible, lest anything should drop from my spouse to impeach my veracity; and yet keep inview what passed at the Flask. 

It is necessary, although thou knowest my whole story, and a good deal ofmy views, that thou shouldst be apprized of the substance of what I toldthem. 

'I gave them, in as concise a manner as I was able, this history of ourfamilies, fortunes, alliances, antipathies, her brother's and mineparticularly. I averred the truth of our private marriage. ' TheCaptain's letter, which I will enclose, will give thee my reasons forthat. And, besides, the women might have proposed a parson to me by wayof compromise. 'I told them the condition my spouse had made me swearto; and to which she held me, in order, I said, to induce me the soonerto be reconciled to her relations. 

'I owned, that this restraint made me sometimes ready to fly out. ' AndMrs. Moore was so good as to declare, that she did not much wonder at it. 

Thou art a very good sort of woman, Mrs. Moore, thought I. 

As Miss Howe has actually detected our mother, and might possibly findsome way still to acquaint her friend with her discoveries, I thought itproper to prepossess them in favour of Mrs. Sinclair and her two nieces. 

I said, 'they were gentlewomen born; that they had not bad hearts; thatindeed my spouse did not love them; they having once taken the liberty toblame her for her over-niceness with regard to me. People, I said, evengood people, who knew themselves to be guilty of a fault they had noinclination to mend, were too often least patient when told of it; asthey could less bear than others to be thought indifferently of. '

Too often the case, they owned. 

'Mrs. Sinclair's house was a very handsome house, and fit to receive thefirst quality, [true enough, Jack!] Mrs. Sinclair was a woman very easyin her circumstances:--A widow gentlewoman, as you, Mrs. Moore, are. --Lets lodgings, as you, Mrs. Moore, do. --Once had better prospects as you, Mrs. Moore, may have had: the relict of Colonel Sinclair;--you, Mrs. Moore, might know Colonel Sinclair--he had lodgings at Hampstead. '

She had heard of the name. 

'Oh! he was related to the best families in Scotland!--And his widow isnot to be reflected upon because she lets lodgings you know, Mrs. Moore--you know, Miss Rawlins. '

Very true, and very true. --And they must needs say, it did not look quiteso pretty, in such a lady as my spouse, to be so censorious. 

A foundation here, thought I, to procure these women's help to get backthe fugitive, or their connivance, at least, at my doing so; as well asfor anticipating any future information from Miss Howe. 

I gave them a character of that virago; and intimated, 'that for a headto contrive mischief, and a heart to execute it, she had hardly her equalin her sex. '

To this Miss Howe it was, Mrs. Moore said, she supposed, that my spousewas so desirous to dispatch a man and horse, by day-dawn, with a lettershe wrote before she went to bed last night, proposing to stay no longerthan till she had received an answer to it. 

The very same, said I; I knew she would have immediate recourse to her. I should have been but too happy, could I have prevented such a letterfrom passing, or so to have it managed, as to have it given into Mrs. Howe's hands, instead of her daughter's. Women who had lived some timein the world knew better, than to encourage such skittish pranks in youngwives. 

Let me just stop to tell thee, while it is in my head, that I have sincegiven Will. His cue to find out where the man lives who is gone with thefair fugitive's letter; and, if possible, to see him on his return, before he sees her. 

I told the women, 'I despaired that it would ever be better with us whileMiss Howe had so strange an ascendancy over my spouse, and remainedherself unmarried. And until the reconciliation with her friends couldbe effected; or a still happier event--as I should think it, who am thelast male of my family; and which my foolish vow, and her rigour, hadhitherto'--

Here I stopt, and looked modest, turning my diamond ring round my finger;while goody Moore looked mighty significant, calling it a very particularcase; and the maiden fanned away, and primm'd, and purs'd, to show thatwhat I had said needed no farther explanantion. 

'I told them the occasion of our present difference. I avowed thereality of the fire; but owned, that I would have made no scruple ofbreaking the unnatural oath she had bound me in, (having a husband'sright on my side, ) when she was so accidentally frighted into my arms;and I blamed myself excessively, that I did not; since she thought fit tocarry her resentment so high, and had the injustice to suppose the fireto be a contrivance of mine. '

Nay, for that matter, Mrs. Moore said, as we were married, and madam wasso odd--every gentleman would not--and stopt there Mrs. Moore. 

'To suppose I should have recourse to such a poor contrivance, said I, when I saw the dear creature every hour. '--Was not this a bold put, Jack?

A most extraordinary case, truly, cried the maiden; fanning, yet comingin with her Well-but's!--and her sifting Pray, Sir's!--and herrestraining Enough, Sir's. --flying from the question to the question--herseat now-and-then uneasy, for fear my want of delicacy should hurt herabundant modesty; and yet it was difficult to satisfy her super-abundantcuriosity. 

'My beloved's jealousy, [and jealousy of itself, to female minds, accounts for a thousand unaccountablenesses, ] and the imputation of herhalf-phrensy, brought upon her by her father's wicked curse, and by theprevious persecutions she had undergone from all her family, were what Idwelt upon, in order to provide against what might happen. '

In short, 'I owned against myself most of the offences which I did notdoubt but she would charge me with in their hearing; and as every causehas a black and white side, I gave the worst parts of our story thegentlest turn. And when I had done, acquainted them with some of thecontents of that letter of Captain Tomlinson which I left with the lady. I concluded with James Harlowe, and of Captain Singleton, or of anysailor-looking men. '

This thou wilt see, from the letter itself, was necessary to be done. Here, therefore, thou mayest read it. And a charming letter to mypurpose wilt thou find it to be, if thou givest the least attention toits contents. 

TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDN. JUNE 7. 

DEAR SIR, Although I am obliged to be in town to-morrow, or next day at farthest, yet I would not dispense with writing to you, by one of my servants, (whom I send up before upon a particular occasion, ) in order to advertiseyou, that it is probable you will hear from some of your own relations onyour [supposed*] nuptials. One of the persons, (Mr. Lilburne by name, )to whom I hinted my belief of your marriage, happens to be acquaintedwith Mr. Spurrier, Lady Betty Lawrance's steward, and (not being underany restriction) mentioned it to Mr. Spurrier, and he to Lady Betty, as athing certain; and this, (though I have not the honour to be personallyknown to her Ladyship, ) brought on an inquiry from her Ladyship to me byher gentleman; who coming to me in company with Mr. Lilburne, I had noway but to confirm the report. --And I understand, that Lady Betty takesit amiss that she was not acquainted with so desirable a piece of newsfrom yourself. 

* What is between hooks [ ] thou mayest suppose, Jack, I sunk upon thewomen, in the account I gave them of the contents of this letter. 

Her Ladyship, it seems, has business that calls her to town [and you willpossibly choose to put her right. If you do, it will, I presume, be inconfidence; that nothing may transpire from your own family to contradictwhat I have given out. ]

[I have ever been of opinion, That truth ought to be strictly adhered toon all occasions: and am concerned that I have, (though with so good aview, ) departed from my old maxim. But my dear friend Mr. John Harlowewould have it so. Yet I never knew a departure of this kind a singledeparture. But, to make the best of it now, allow me, Sir, once more tobeg the lady, as soon as possible, to authenticate the report given out. ]When both you and the lady join in the acknowledgement of your marriage, it will be impertinent in any one to be inquisitive as to the day orweek. [And if as privately celebrated as you intend, (while thegentlewomen with whom you lodge are properly instructed, as you say theyare, and who shall actually believe you were married long ago, ) who shallbe able to give a contradiction to my report?]

And yet it is very probable, that minute inquiries will be made; and thisis what renders precaution necessary; for Mr. James Harlowe will notbelieve that you are married; and is sure, he says, that you both livedtogether when Mr. Hickman's application was made to Mr. John Harlowe: andif you lived together any time unmarried, he infers from your character, Mr. Lovelace, that it is not probable that you would ever marry. And heleaves it to his two uncles to decide, if you even should be married, whether there be not room to believe, that his sister was firstdishonoured; and if so, to judge of the title she will have to theirfavour, or to the forgiveness of any of her family. --I believe, Sir, thispart of my letter had best be kept from the lady. 

Young Mr. Harlowe is resolved to find this out, and to come at hissister's speech likewise: and for that purpose sets out to-morrow, as Iam well informed, with a large attendance armed; and Mr. Solmes is to beof the party. And what makes him the more earnest to find it out isthis:--Mr. John Harlowe has told the whole family that he will alter, andnew-settle his will. Mr. Antony Harlowe is resolved to do the same byhis; for, it seems, he has now given over all thoughts of changing hiscondition, having lately been disappointed in a view he had of that sortwith Mrs. Howe. These two brothers generally act in concert; and Mr. James Harlowe dreads (and let me tell you, that he has reason for it, onmy Mr. Harlowe's account) that his younger sister will be, at last, morebenefited than he wishes for, by the alteration intended. He has alreadybeen endeavouring to sound his uncle Harlowe on this subject; and wantedto know whether any new application had been made to him on his sister'spart. Mr. Harlowe avoided a direct answer, and expressed his wishes fora general reconciliation, and his hopes that his niece were married. This offended the furious young man, and he reminded his uncle ofengagements they had all entered into at his sister's going away, not tobe reconciled but by general consent. 

Mr. John Harlowe complains to me often of the uncontroulableness of hisnephew; and says, that now that the young man has not any body of whosesuperior sense he stands in awe, he observes not decency in his behaviourto any of them, and this makes my Mr. Harlowe still more desirous thanever of bringing his younger niece into favour again. I will not say allI might of this young man's extraordinary rapaciousness:--but one wouldthink, that these grasping men expect to live for ever!

'I took the liberty but within these two hours to propose to set on foot(and offered my cover to) a correspondence between my friend and hisdaughter-niece, as she still sometimes fondly calls her. She wasmistress of so much prudence, I said, that I was sure she could betterdirect every thing to its desirable end, than any body else could. Buthe said, he did not think himself entirely at liberty to take such a stepat present; and that it was best that he should have it in his power tosay, occasionally, that he had not any correspondence with her, or letterfrom her. 

'You will see, Sir, from all this, the necessity of keeping our treaty anabsolute secret; and if the lady has mentioned it to her worthy friendMiss Howe, I hope it is in confidence. '

[And now, Sir, a few lines in answer to your's of Monday last. ]

[Mr. Harlowe was very well pleased with your readiness to come into hisproposal. But as to what you both desire, that he will be present at theceremony, he said, that his nephew watched all his steps so narrowly, that he thought it was not practicable (if he were inclinable) to obligeyou: but that he consented, with all his heart, that I should be theperson whom he had stipulated should be privately present at the ceremonyon his part. ]

[However, I think, I have an expedient for this, if your lady continuesto be very desirous of her uncle's presence (except he should be moredetermined than his answer to me seemed to import); of which I shallacquaint you, and perhaps of what he says to it, when I have the pleasureto see you in town. But, indeed, I think you have no time to lose. Mr. Harlowe is impatient to hear, that you are actually one; and I hope I maycarry him down word, when I leave you next, that I saw the ceremonyperformed. ]

[If any obstacle arises from the lady, (from you it cannot, ) I shall betempted to think a little hardly of her punctilio. ]

Mr. Harlowe hopes, Sir, that you will rather take pains to avoid, than tomeet, this violent young man. He has the better opinion of you, let metell you, Sir, from the account I gave him of your moderation andpoliteness; neither of which are qualities with his nephew. But we haveall of us something to amend. 

You cannot imagine how dearly my friend still loves this excellent nieceof his. --I will give you an instance of it, which affected me a gooddeal---'If once more, said he, (the last time but one we were together, )I can but see this sweet child gracing the upper end of my table, asmistress of my house, in my allotted month; all the rest of my familypresent but as her guests; for so I formerly would have it; and had hermother's consent for it--' There he stopt; for he was forced to turn hisreverend face from me. Tears ran down his cheeks. Fain would he havehid them: but he could not--'Yet--yet, said he--how--how--' [poorgentleman, he perfectly sobbed, ] 'how shall I be able to bear the firstmeeting!'

I bless God I am no hard-hearted man, Mr. Lovelace: my eyes showed to myworthy friend, that he had no reason to be ashamed of his humanity beforeme. 

I will put an end to this long epistle. Be pleased to make mycompliments acceptable to the most excellent of women; as well as believeme to be, Dear Sir, Your faithful friend, and humble servant, ANTONY TOMLINSON. 

***

During the conversation between me and the women, I had planted myself atthe farthest end of the apartment we were in, over against the door, which was open; and opposite to the lady's chamber-door, which was shut. I spoke so low that it was impossible for her, at that distance, to hearwhat we said; and in this situation I could see if her door was opened. 

I told the women, that what I had mentioned to my spouse of Lady Betty'scoming to town with her niece Montague, and of their intention to visitmy beloved, whom they had never seen, nor she them, was real; and that Iexpected news of their arrival every hour. I then showed them copies ofthe other two letters, which I had left with her; the one from LadyBetty, the other from my cousin Montague. --And here thou mayest read themif thou wilt. 

Eternally reproaching, eternally upbraiding me, are my impertinentrelations. But they are fond of occasions to find fault with me. Theirlove, their love, Jack, and their dependence on my known good humour, aretheir inducements. 

TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WED. MORN. JUNE 7. 

DEAR NEPHEW, I understand that at length all our wishes are answered in your happymarriage. But I think we might as well have heard of it directly fromyou, as from the round-about way by which we have been made acquaintedwith it. Methinks, Sir, the power and the will we have to oblige you, should not expose us the more to your slights and negligence. My brotherhad set his heart upon giving to you the wife we have all so long wishedyou to have. But if you were actually married at the time you made himthat request (supposing, perhaps, that his gout would not let him attendyou) it is but like you. *--If your lady had her reasons to wish it to beprivate while the differences between her family and self continue, youmight nevertheless have communicated it to us with that restriction; andwe should have forborne the public manifestations of our joy upon anevent we have so long desired. 

* I gave Mrs. Moore and Miss Rawlins room to think this reproach just, Jack. 

The distant way we have come to know it is by my steward; who isacquainted with a friend of Captain Tomlinson, to whom that gentlemanrevealed it: and he, it seems, had it from yourself and lady, with suchcircumstances as leave it not to be doubted. 

I am, indeed, very much disobliged with you: so is Lady Sarah. But Ihave a very speedy opportunity to tell you so in person; being obliged togo to town to my old chancery affair. My cousin Leeson, who is, itseems, removed to Albemarle-street, has notice of it. I shall be at herhouse, where I bespeak your attendance of Sunday night. I have writtento my cousin Charlotte for either her, or her sister, to meet me atReading, and accompany me to town. I shall stay but a few days; mybusiness being matter of form only. On my return I shall pop upon LordM. At M. Hall, to see in what way his last fit has left him. 

Mean time, having told you my mind on your negligence, I cannot helpcongratulating you both on the occasion. --Your fair lady particularly, upon her entrance into a family which is prepared to admire and love her. 

My principal intention of writing to you (dispensing with the necessarypunctilio) is, that you may acquaint my dear new niece, that I will notbe denied the honour of her company down with me into Oxfordshire. Iunderstand that your proposed house and equipages cannot be soon ready. She shall be with me till they are. I insist upon it. This shall makeall up. My house shall be her own. My servants and equipages her's. 

Lady Sarah, who has not been out of her own house for months, will obligeme with her company for a week, in honour of a niece so dearly beloved, as I am sure she will be of us all. 

Being but in lodgings in town, neither you nor your lady can require muchpreparation. 

Some time on Monday I hope to attend the dear young lady, to make her mycompliments; and to receive her apology for your negligence: which, andher going down with me, as I said before, shall be full satisfaction. Mean time, God bless her for her courage, (tell her I say so;) and blessyou both in each other; and that will be happiness to us all--particularly to

Your truly affectionate Aunt, ELIZ. LAWRANCE. 

TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. 

DEAR COUSIN, At last, as we understand, there is some hope of you. Now does my goodLord run over his bead-roll of proverbs; of black oxen, wild oats, longlanes, and so forth. 

Now, Cousin, say I, is your time come; and you will be no longer, I hope, an infidel either to the power or excellence of the sex you havepretended hitherto so much as undervalue; nor a ridiculer or scoffer atan institution which all sober people reverence, and all rakes, sooner orlater, are brought to reverence, or to wish they had. 

I want to see how you become your silken fetters: whether the charmingyoke sits light upon your shoulders. If with such a sweet yoke-fellow itdoes not, my Lord, and my sister, as well as I, think that you willdeserve a closer tie about your neck. 

His Lordship is very much displeased, that you have not written him wordof the day, the hour, the manner, and every thing. But I ask him, how hecan already expect any mark of deference or politeness from you? He muststay, I tell him, till that sign of reformation, among others, appearfrom the influence and example of your lady: but that, if ever you willbe good for any thing, it will be quickly seen. And, O Cousin, what avast, vast journey have you to take from the dreary land of libertinism, through the bright province of reformation, into the serene kingdom ofhappiness!--You had need to lose no time. You have many a weary step totread, before you can overtake those travellers who set out for it from aless remote quarter. But you have a charming pole-star to guide you;that's your advantage. I wish you joy of it: and as I have never yetexpected any highly complaisant thing from you, I make no scruple tobegin first; but it is purely, I must tell you, in respect to my newcousin; whose accession into our family we most heartily congratulate andrejoice in. 

I have a letter from Lady Betty. She commands either my attendance or mysister's to my cousin Leeson's. She puts Lord M. In hopes, that sheshall certainly bring down with her our lovely new relation; for shesays, she will not be denied. His Lordship is the willinger to let me bethe person, as I am in a manner wild to see her; my sister having twoyears ago had that honour at Sir Robert Biddulph's. So get ready toaccompany us in our return; except your lady had objections strong enoughto satisfy us all. Lady Sarah longs to see her; and says, This accessionto the family will supply to it the loss of her beloved daughter. 

I shall soon, I hope, pay my compliments to the dear lady in person: sohave nothing to add, but that I am

Your old mad Playfellow and Cousin, CHARLOTTE MONTAGUE. 

***

The women having read the copies of these two letters, I thought that Imight then threaten and swagger--'But very little heart have I, said I, to encourage such a visit from Lady Betty and Miss Montague to my spouse. For after all, I am tired out with her strange ways. She is not what shewas, and (as I told her in your hearing, Ladies) I will leave this plaguyisland, though the place of my birth, and though the stake I have in itis very considerable, and go and reside in France or Italy, and neverthink of myself as a married man, nor live like one. '

O dear! said one. 

That would be a sad thing! said the other. 

Nay, Madam, [turning to Mrs. Moore, ]--Indeed, Madam, [to Miss Rawlins, ]--I am quite desperate. I can no longer bear such usage. I have had thegood fortune to be favoured by the smiles of very fine ladies, though Isay it [and I looked very modest] both abroad and at home--[Thou knowestthis to be true, Jack]. With regard to my spouse here, I have but onehope left, (for as to the reconciliation with her friends, I left, Iscorn them all too much to value that, but for her sake, ) and that was, that if it pleased God to bless us with children, she might entirelyrecover her usual serenity; and we might then be happy. But thereconciliation her heart was so much set upon, is now, as I hintedbefore, entirely hopeless--made so, by this rash step of her's, and bythe rash temper she is in; since (as you will believe) her brother andsister, when they come to know it, will make a fine handle of it againstus both;--affecting, as they do at present, to disbelieve our marriage--and the dear creature herself too ready to countenance such a disbelief--as nothing more than the ceremony--as nothing more--hem!--as nothingmore than the ceremony--

Here, as thou wilt perceive, I was bashful; for Miss Rawlins, by herpreparatory primness, put me in mind that it was proper to be so--

I turned half round; then facing the fan-player, and the matron--youyourselves, Ladies, knew not what to believe till now, that I have toldyou our story; and I do assure you, that I shall not give myself the sametrouble to convince people I hate; people from whom I neither expect nordesire any favour; and who are determined not to be convinced. And what, pray, must be the issue, when her uncle's friend comes, although he seemsto be a truly worthy man? It is not natural for him to say, 'To whatpurpose, Mr. Lovelace, should I endeavour to bring about a reconciliationbetween Mrs. Lovelace and her friends, by means of her elder uncle, whena good understanding is wanting between yourselves?'--A fair inference, Mrs. Moore!--A fair inference, Miss Rawlins. --And here is theunhappiness--till she is reconciled to them, this cursed oath, in hernotion, is binding. 

The women seemed moved; for I spoke with great earnestness, thoughlow--and besides, they love to have their sex, and its favours, appear ofimportance to us. They shook their deep heads at each other, and lookedsorrowful: and this moved my tender heart too. 

'Tis an unheard-of case, Ladies--had she not preferred me to allmankind--There I stopped--and that, resumed I, feeling for myhandkerchief, is what staggered Captain Tomlinson when he heard of herflight; who, the last time he saw us together, saw the most affectionatecouple on earth!--the most affectionate couple on earth!--in theaccent-grievous, repeated I. 

Out then I pulled my handkerchief, and putting it to my eyes, arose, andwalked to the window--It makes me weaker than a woman, did I not loveher, as never man loved his wife! [I have no doubt but I do, Jack. ]

There again I stopt; and resuming--Charming creature, as you see she is, I wish I had never beheld her face!--Excuse me, Ladies; traversing theroom, and having rubbed my eyes till I supposed them red, I turned to thewomen; and, pulling out my letter-case, I will show you one letter--hereit is--read it, Miss Rawlins, if you please--it will confirm to you howmuch all my family are prepared to admire her. I am freely treated init;--so I am in the two others: but after what I have told you, nothingneed be a secret to you two. 

She took it, with an air of eager curiosity, and looked at the seal, ostentatiously coroneted; and at the superscription, reading out, ToRobert Lovelace, Esq. --Ay, Madam--Ay, Miss, that's my name, [givingmyself an air, though I had told it to them before, ] I am not ashamed ofit. My wife's maiden name--unmarried name, I should rather say--foolthat I am!--and I rubbed my cheek for vexation [Fool enough inconscience, Jack!] was Harlowe--Clarissa Harlowe--you heard me call hermy Clarissa--

I did--but thought it to be a feigned or love-name, said Miss Rawlins. 

I wonder what is Miss Rawlins's love-name, Jack. Most of the fairromancers have in their early womanhood chosen love-names. No parsonever gave more real names, than I have given fictitious ones. And tovery good purpose: many a sweet dear has answered me a letter for thesake of owning a name which her godmother never gave her. 

No--it was her real name, I said. 

I bid her read out the whole letter. If the spelling be not exact, MissRawlins, said I, you will excuse it; the writer is a lord. But, perhaps, I may not show it to my spouse; for if those I have left with her have noeffect upon her, neither will this: and I shall not care to expose myLord M. To her scorn. Indeed I begin to be quite careless ofconsequences. 

Miss Rawlins, who could not but be pleased with this mark of myconfidence, looked as if she pitied me. 

And here thou mayest read the letter, No. III. 

***

TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. M. HALL, WEDN. JUNE 7. 

COUSIN LOVELACE, I think you might have found time to let us know of your nuptials beingactually solemnized. I might have expected this piece of civility fromyou. But perhaps the ceremony was performed at the very time that youasked me to be your lady's father--but I should be angry if I proceed inmy guesses--and little said is soon amended. 

But I can tell you, that Lady Betty Lawrance, whatever Lady Sarah does, will not so soon forgive you, as I have done. Women resent slightslonger than men. You that know so much of the sex (I speak it not, however, to your praise) might have known that. But never was you beforeacquainted with a lady of such an amiable character. I hope there willbe but one soul between you. I have before now said, that I willdisinherit you, and settle all I can upon her, if you prove not a goodhusband to her. 

May this marriage be crowned with a great many fine boys (I desire nogirls) to build up again a family so antient! The first boy shall takemy surname by act of parliament. That is my will. 

Lady Betty and niece Charlotte will be in town about business before youknow where you are. They long to pay their compliments to your fairbride. I suppose you will hardly be at The Lawn when they get to town;because Greme informs me, you have sent no orders there for your lady'saccommodation. 

Pritchard has all things in readiness for signing. I will take noadvantage of your slights. Indeed I am too much used to them--morepraise to my patience than to your complaisance, however. 

One reason for Lady Betty's going up, as I may tell you under the rose, is, to buy some suitable presents for Lady Sarah and all of us to makeon this agreeable occasion. 

We would have blazed it away, could we have had timely notice, andthought it would have been agreeable to all round. The like occasionsdon't happen every day. 

My most affectionate compliments and congratulations to my new niece, conclude me, for the present, in violent pain, that with all yourheroicalness would make you mad, Your truly affectionate uncle, M. 

***

This letter clench'd the nail. Not but that, Miss Rawlins said, she sawI had been a wild gentleman; and, truly she thought so the moment shebeheld me. 

They began to intercede for my spouse, (so nicely had I turned thetables;) and that I would not go abroad and disappoint a reconciliationso much wished for on one side, and such desirable prospects on the otherin my own family. 

Who knows, thought I to myself, but more may come of this plot, than Ihad even promised myself? What a happy man shall I be, if these womencan be brought to join to carry my marriage into consummation!

Ladies, you are exceedingly good to us both. I should have some hopes, if my unhappily nice spouse could be brought to dispense with theunnatural oath she has laid me under. You see what my case is. Do youthink I may not insist upon her absolving me from this abominable oath?Will you be so good as to give your advice, that one apartment may servefor a man and his wife at the hour of retirement?--[Modestly put, Belford!--And let me here observe, that few rakes would find a languageso decent as to engage modest women to talk with him in, upon suchsubjects. ]

They both simpered, and looked upon one another. 

These subjects always make women simper, at least. No need but of themost delicate hints to them. A man who is gross in a woman's company, ought to be knocked down with a club: for, like so many musicalinstruments, touch but a single wire, and the dear souls are sensibleall over. 

To be sure, Miss Rawlins learnedly said, playing with her fan, a casuistwould give it, that the matrimonial vow ought to supercede any otherobligation. 

Mrs. Moore, for her part, was of opinion, that, if the lady owned herselfto be a wife, she ought to behave like one. 

Whatever be my luck, thought I, with this all-eyed fair-one, any otherwoman in the world, from fifteen to five-and-twenty, would be mine uponmy own terms before the morning. 

And now, that I may be at hand to take all advantages, I will endeavour, said I to myself, to make sure of good quarters. 

I am your lodger, Mrs. Moore, in virtue of the earnest I have given youfor these apartments, and for any one you can spare above for myservants. Indeed for all you have to spare--For who knows what myspouse's brother may attempt? I will pay you to your own demand; andthat for a month or two certain, (board included, ) as I shall or shallnot be your hindrance. Take that as a pledge; or in part of payment--offering her a thirty pound bank note. 

She declined taking it; desiring she might consult the lady first;adding, that she doubted not my honour; and that she would not let herapartments to any other person, whom she knew not something of, while Iand the lady were here. 

The Lady! The Lady! from both women's mouth's continually (which stillimplied a doubt in their hearts): and not Your Spouse, and Your Lady, Sir. 

I never met with such women, thought I:--so thoroughly convinced but thismoment, yet already doubting--I am afraid I have a couple of skeptics todeal with. 

I knew no reason, I said, for my wife to object to my lodging in the samehouse with her here, any more than in town, at Mrs. Sinclair's. But wereshe to make such objection, I would not quit possession since it was notunlikely that the same freakish disorder which brought her to Hampstead, might carry her absolutely out of my knowledge. 

They both seemed embarrassed; and looked upon one another; yet with suchan air, as if they thought there was reason in what I said. And Ideclared myself her boarder, as well as lodger; and dinner-timeapproaching, was not denied to be the former. 

LETTER XXV

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. 

I thought it was now high time to turn my whole mind to my beloved; whohad had full leisure to weigh the contents of the letters I had left withher. 

I therefore requested Mrs. Moore to step in, and desire to know whethershe would be pleased to admit me to attend her in her apartment, onoccasion of the letters I had left with her; or whether she would favourme with her company in the dining-room?

Mrs. Moore desired Miss Rawlins to accompany her in to the lady. Theytapped at the door, and were both admitted. 

I cannot but stop here for one minute to remark, though against myself, upon that security which innocence gives, that nevertheless had betterhave in it a greater mixture of the serpent with the dove. For here, heedless of all I could say behind her back, because she was satisfiedwith her own worthiness, she permitted me to go on with my own story, without interruption, to persons as great strangers to her as me; andwho, as strangers to both, might be supposed to lean to the side mostinjured; and that, as I managed it, was to mine. A dear, silly soul, thought I, at the time, to depend upon the goodness of her own heart, when the heart cannot be seen into but by its actions; and she, toappearance, a runaway, an eloper, from a tender, a most indulgenthusband!--To neglect to cultivate the opinion of individuals, when thewhole world is governed by appearance!

Yet what can be expected of an angel under twenty?--She has a world ofknowledge:--knowledge speculative, as I may say, but no experience. --Howshould she?--Knowledge by theory only is a vague, uncertain light: a Willo' the Wisp, which as often misleads the doubting mind, as puts it right. 

There are many things in the world, could a moralizer say, that wouldafford inexpressible pleasure to a reflecting mind, were it not for themixture they come to us with. To be graver still, I have seen parents, [perhaps my own did so, ] who delighted in those very qualities in theirchildren while young, the natural consequences of which, (too muchindulged and encouraged, ) made them, as they grew up, the plague of theirhearts. --To bring this home to my present purpose, I must tell thee, thatI adore this charming creature for her vigilant prudence; but yet I wouldnot, methinks, wish her, by virtue of that prudence, which is, however, necessary to carry her above the devices of all the rest of the world, tobe too wise for mine. 

My revenge, my sworn revenge, is, nevertheless, (adore her as I will, )uppermost in my heart. --Miss Howe says that my love is a Herodian love. *By my soul, that girl's a witch! I am half sorry to say, that I find apleasure in playing the tyrant over what I love. Call it an ungenerouspleasure, if thou wilt: softer hearts than mine know it. The women, to awoman, know it, and show it too, whenever they are trusted with power. And why should it be thought strange, that I, who love them so dearly, and study them so much, should catch the infection of them?

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

LETTER XXVI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. 

I will now give thee the substance of the dialogue that passed betweenthe two women and the lady. Wonder not, that a perverse wife makes alistening husband. The event, however, as thou wilt find, justified theold observation, That listners seldom hear good of themselves. Consciousof their own demerits, if I may guess by myself, [There's ingenuousness, Jack!] and fearful of censure, they seldom find themselves disappointed. There is something of sense, after all in these proverbs, in thesephrases, in this wisdom of nations. 

Mrs. Moore was to be the messenger, but Miss Rawlins began the dialogue. 

Your SPOUSE, Madam, --[Devil!--only to fish for a negative or affirmativedeclaration. ]

Cl. My spouse, Madam--

Miss R. Mr. Lovelace, Madam, avers that you are married to him; andbegs admittance, or your company in the dining-room, to talk upon thesubject of the letters he left with you. 

Cl. He is a poor wicked wretch. Let me beg of you, Madam, to favour mewith your company as often as possible while he is hereabouts, and Iremain here. 

Miss R. I shall with pleasure attend you, Madam: but, methinks, I couldwish you would see the gentleman, and hear what he has to say on thesubject of the letters. 

Cl. My case is a hard, a very hard one--I am quite bewildered!-I knownot what to do!--I have not a friend in the world that can or will helpme! Yet had none but friends till I knew that man!

Miss R. The gentleman neither looks nor talks like a bad man. --Not avery bad man, as men go. 

As men go! Poor Miss Rawlins, thought I; and dost thou know how men go?

Cl. O Madam, you know him not! He can put on the appearance of anangel of light; but has a black, a very black heart!

Poor I!--

Miss R. I could not have thought it, truly! But men are verydeceitful, now-a-days. 

Now-a-days!--A fool!--Have not her history-books told her that they werealways so?

Mrs. Moore, sighing. I have found it so, I am sure, to my cost!--

Who knows but in her time poor goody Moore may have met with a Lovelace, or a Belford, or some such vile fellow? My little harum-scarum beautyknows not what strange histories every woman living, who has had theleast independence of will, could tell her, were such to be ascommunicative as she is. But here's the thing--I have given her causeenough of offence; but not enough to make her hold her tongue. 

Cl. As to the letters he has left with me, I know not what to say tothem: but am resolved never to have any thing to say to him. 

Miss R. If, Madam, I may be allowed to say so, I think you carrymatters very far. 

Cl. Has he been making a bad cause a good one with you, Madam?--That hecan do with those who know him not. Indeed I heard him talking, thoughtnot what he said, and am indifferent about it. --But what account does hegive of himself?

I was pleased to hear this. To arrest, to stop her passion, thought I, in the height of its career, is a charming presage. 

Then the busy Miss Rawlins fished on, to find out from her either aconfirmation or disavowal of my story--Was Lord M. My uncle? Did I courther at first with the allowance of her friends, her brother excepted?Had I a rencounter with that brother? Was she so persecuted in favour ofa very disagreeable man, one Solmes, as to induce her to throw herselfinto my protection?

None of these were denied. All the objections she could have made, werestifled, or kept in, by the considerations, (as she mentioned, ) that sheshould stay there but a little while, and that her story was too long;but Miss Rawlins would not be thus easily answered. 

Miss R. He says, Madam, that he could not prevail for marriage, till hehad consented, under a solemn oath, to separate beds, while your familyremained unreconciled. 

Cl. O the wretch! What can be still in his head, to endeavour to passthese stories upon strangers?

So no direct denial, thought I. --Admirable!--All will do by-and-by. 

Miss R. He has owned that an accidental fire had frightened you verymuch on Wednesday night--and that--and that--an accidental fire hadfrightened you--very much frightened you--last Wednesday night!

Then, after a short pause--In short, he owned, that he had taken someinnocent liberties, which might have led to a breach of the oath you hadimposed upon him; and that this was the cause of your displeasure. 

I would have been glad to see how my charmer then looked. --To be sure shewas at a loss in her own mind, to justify herself for resenting so highlyan offence so trifling. --She hesitated--did not presently speak. --Whenshe did, she wished that she, (Miss Rawlins, ) might never meet with anyman who would take such innocent liberties with her. 

Miss Rawlins pushed further. 

Your case, to be sure, Madam, is very particular: but if the hope of areconciliation with your own friends is made more distant by your leavinghim, give me leave to say, that 'tis pity--'tis pity--[I suppose themaiden then primm'd, fann'd, and blush'd--'tis pity] the oath cannot bedispensed with; especially as he owns he has not been so strict a liver. 

I could have gone in and kissed the girl. 

Cl. You have heard his story. Mine, as I told you before, is too long, and too melancholy: my disorder on seeing the wretch is too great; and mytime here is too short, for me to enter upon it. And if he has any endto serve by his own vindication, in which I shall not be a personalsufferer, let him make himself appear as white as an angel, with all myheart. 

My love for her, and the excellent character I gave her, were thenpleaded. 

Cl. Specious seducer!--Only tell me if I cannot get away from him bysome back way?

How my heart then went pit-a-pat, to speak in the female dialect. 

Cl. Let me look out--[I heard the sash lifted up. ]--Whither does thatpath lead? Is there no possibility of getting to a coach? Surely hemust deal with some fiend, or how could he have found me out? Cannot Isteal to some neighbouring house, where I may be concealed till I can getquite away? You are good people!--I have not been always among such!--O help me, help me, Ladies! [with a voice of impatience, ] or I am ruined!

Then pausing, Is that the way to Hendon? [pointing, I suppose. ] IsHendon a private place?--The Hampstead coach, I am told, will carrypassengers thither. 

Mrs. Moore. I have an honest friend at Mill-Hill, [Devil fetch her!thought I, ] where, if such be your determination, Madam, and if you thinkyourself in danger, you may be safe, I believe. 

Cl. Any where, if I can but escape from this man! Whither does thatpath lead, out yonder?--What is that town on the right hand called?

Mrs. Moore. Highgate, Madam. 

Miss R. On the side of the heath is a little village, called North-end. A kinswoman of mine lives there. But her house is small. I am not sureshe could accommodate such a lady. 

Devil take her too! thought I, --I imagined that I had made myself abetter interest in these women. But the whole sex love plotting--andplotters too, Jack. 

Cl. A barn, an outhouse, a garret, will be a palace to me, if it willbut afford me a refuge from this man!

Her senses, thought I, are much livelier than mine. --What a devil haveI done, that she should be so very implacable? I told thee, Belford, allI did: Was there any thing in it so very much amiss? Such prospects of afamily reconciliation before her too! To be sure she is a very sensiblelady!

She then espied my new servant walking under the window, and asked if hewere not one of mine?

Will. Was on the look-out for old Grimes, [so is the fellow called whommy beloved has dispatched to Miss Howe. ] And being told that the man shesaw was my servant; I see, said she, that there is no escaping, unlessyou, Madam, [to Miss Rawlins, I suppose, ] can befriend me till I can getfarther. I have no doubt that the fellow is planted about the house towatch my steps. But the wicked wretch his master has no right tocontroul me. He shall not hinder me from going where I please. I willraise the town upon him, if he molests me. Dear Ladies, is there noback-door for me to get out at while you hold him in talk?

Miss R. Give me leave to ask you, Madam, Is there no room to hope foraccommodation? Had you not better see him? He certainly loves youdearly: he is a fine gentleman; you may exasperate him, and make mattersmore unhappy for yourself. 

Cl. O Mrs. Moore! O Miss Rawlins! you know not the man! I wish not tosee his face, nor to exchange another word with him as long as I live. 

Mrs. Moore. I don't find, Miss Rawlins, that the gentleman hasmisrepresented any thing. You see, Madam, [to my Clarissa, ] howrespectful he is; not to come in till permitted. He certainly loves youdearly. Pray, Madam, let him talk to you, as he wishes to do, on thesubject of his letters. 

Very kind of Mrs. Moore!--Mrs. Moore, thought I, is a very good woman. Idid not curse her then. 

Miss Rawlins said something; but so low that I could not hear what itwas. Thus it was answered. 

Cl. I am greatly distressed! I know not what to do!--But, Mrs. Moore, be so good as to give his letters to him--here they are. --Be pleased totell him, that I wish him and Lady Betty and Miss Montague a happymeeting. He never can want excuses to them for what has happened, anymore than pretences to those he would delude. Tell him, that he hasruined me in the opinion of my own friends. I am for that reason theless solicitous how I appear to his. 

Mrs. Moore then came to me; and I, being afraid that something would passmean time between the other two, which I should not like, took theletters, and entered the room, and found them retired into the closet; mybeloved whispering with an air of earnestness to Miss Rawlins, who wasall attention. 

Her back was towards me; and Miss Rawlins, by pulling her sleeve, givingintimation of my being there--Can I have no retirement uninvaded, Sir, said she, with indignation, as if she were interrupted in some talk herheart was in?--What business have you here, or with me?--You have yourletters; have you not?

Lovel. I have, my dear; and let me beg of you to consider what you areabout. I every moment expect Captain Tomlinson here. Upon my soul, Ido. He has promised to keep from your uncle what has happened: but whatwill he think if he find you hold in this strange humour?

Cl. I will endeavour, Sir, to have patience with you for a moment ortwo, while I ask you a few questions before this lady, and before Mrs. Moore, [who just then came in, ] both of whom you have prejudiced in yourfavour by your specious stories:--Will you say, Sir, that we are marriedtogether? Lay your hand upon your heart, and answer me, am I your weddedwife?

I am gone too far, thought I, to give up for such a push as this, homeone as it is. 

My dearest soul! how can you put such a question? It is either for yourhonour or my own, that it should be doubted?--Surely, surely, Madam, youcannot have attended to the contents of Captain Tomlinson's letter. 

She complained often of want of spirits throughout our whole contention, and of weakness of person and mind, from the fits she had been throwninto: but little reason had she for this complaint, as I thought, who wasable to hold me to it, as she did. I own that I was excessivelyconcerned for her several times. 

You and I! Vilest of Men!--

My name is Lovelace, Madam--

Therefore it is that I call you the vilest of men. [Was this pardonable, Jack!]--You and I know the truth, the whole truth. --I want not to clearup my reputation with these gentlewomen:--that is already lost with everyone I had most reason to value: but let me have this new specimen of whatyou are capable of--say, wretch, (say, Lovelace, if thou hadst rather, )art thou really and truly my wedded husband?--Say; answer withouthesitation. 

She trembled with impatient indignation; but had a wildness in hermanner, which I took some advantage of, in order to parry this cursedthrust. And a cursed thrust it was; since, had I positively averred it, she would never have believed any thing I said: and had I owned that Iwas not married, I had destroyed my own plot, as well with the women aswith her; and could have no pretence for pursuing her, or hindering herfrom going wheresoever she pleased. Not that I was ashamed to aver it, had it been consistent with policy. I would not have thee think me sucha milk-sop neither. 

Lovel. My dearest love, how wildly you talk! What would you have meanswer? It is necessary that I should answer? May I not re-appeal thisto your own breast, as well as to Captain Tomlinson's treaty and letter?You know yourself how matters stand between us. --And Captain Tomlinson--

Cl. O wretch! Is this an answer to my question? Say, are we married, or are we not?

Lovel. What makes a marriage, we all know. If it be the union of twohearts, [there was a turn, Jack!] to my utmost grief, I must say that weare not; since now I see you hate me. If it be the completion ofmarriage, to my confusion and regret, I must own we are not. But, mydear, will you be pleased to consider what answer half a dozen peoplewhence you came, could give to your question? And do not now, in thedisorder of your mind, and the height of passion, bring into questionbefore these gentlewomen a point you have acknowledged before those whoknow us better. 

I would have whispered her about the treaty with her uncle, and about thecontents of the Captain's letter; but, retreating, and with a rejectinghand, Keep thy distance, man, cried the dear insolent--to thine own heartI appeal, since thou evadest me thus pitifully!--I own no marriage withthee!--Bear witness, Ladies, I do not. And cease to torment me, cease tofollow me. --Surely, surely, faulty as I have been, I have not deserved tobe thus persecuted!--I resume, therefore, my former language: you have noright to pursue me: you know you have not: begone then, and leave me tomake the best of my hard lot. O my dear, cruel father! said she, in aviolent fit of grief [falling upon her knees, and clasping her upliftedhands together] thy heavy curse is completed upon thy devoted daughter!I am punished, dreadfully punished, by the very wretch in whom I hadplaced my wicked confidence!

By my soul, Belford, the little witch with her words, but more by hermanner, moved me! Wonder not then that her action, her grief, her tears, set the women into the like compassionate manifestations. 

Had I not a cursed task of it?

The two women withdrew to the further end of the room, and whispered, astrange case! There is no phrensy here--I just heard said. 

The charming creature threw her handkerchief over her head and neck, continuing kneeling, her back towards me, and her face hid upon a chair, and repeatedly sobbed with grief and passion. 

I took this opportunity to step to the women to keep them steady. 

You see, Ladies, [whispering, ] what an unhappy man I am! You see what aspirit this dear creature has!--All, all owing to her implacablerelations, and to her father's curse. --A curse upon them all! they haveturned the head of the most charming woman in the world!

Ah! Sir, Sir, replied Miss Rawlins, whatever be the fault of herrelations, all is not as it should be between you and her. 'Tis plainshe does not think herself married: 'tis plain she does not: and if youhave any value for the poor lady, and would not totally deprive her ofher senses, you had better withdraw, and leave to time and coolerconsideration the event in your favour. 

She will compel me to this at last, I fear, Miss Rawlins; I fear shewill; and then we are both undone: for I cannot live without her; sheknows it too well: and she has not a friend who will look upon her: thisalso she knows. Our marriage, when her uncle's friend comes, will beproved incontestably. But I am ashamed to think I have given her roomto believe it no marriage: that's what she harps upon!

Well, 'tis a strange case, a very strange one, said Miss Rawlins; and wasgoing to say further, when the angry beauty, coming towards the door, said, Mrs. Moore, I beg a word with you. And they both stepped into thedining-room. 

I saw her just before put a parcel into her pocket; and followed themout, for fear she should slip away; and stepping to the stairs, that shemight not go by me, Will. , cried I, aloud [though I knew he was not near]--Pray, child, to a maid, who answered, call either of my servants to me. 

She then came up to me with a wrathful countenance: do you call yourservant, Sir, to hinder me, between you, from going where I please?

Don't, my dearest life, misinterpret every thing I do. Can you think meso mean and unworthy as to employ a servant to constrain you?--I call himto send to the public-houses, or inns in this town, to inquire afterCaptain Tomlinson, who may have alighted at some one of them, and be now, perhaps, needlessly adjusting his dress; and I would have him come, werehe to be without clothes, God forgive me! for I am stabbed to the heartby your cruelty. 

Answer was returned, that neither of my servants was in the way. 

Not in the way, said I!--Whither can the dogs be gone?

O Sir! with a scornful air; not far, I'll warrant. One of them was underthe window just now; according to order, I suppose, to watch my steps--but I will do what I please, and go where I please; and that to yourface. 

God forbid, that I should hinder you in any thing that you may do withsafety to yourself!

Now I verily believe that her design was to slip out, in pursuance of thecloset-whispering between her and Miss Rawlins; perhaps to Miss Rawlins'shouse. 

She then stept back to Mrs. Moore, and gave her something, which provedto be a diamond ring, and desired her [not whisperingly, but with an airof defiance to me] that that might be a pledge for her, till she defrayedher demands; which she should soon find means to do; having no more moneyabout her than she might have occasion for before she came to anacquaintance's. 

Mrs. Moore would have declined taking it; but she would not be denied;and then, wiping her eyes, she put on her gloves--nobody has a right tostop me, said she!--I will go!--Whom should I be afraid of?--Her veryquestion, charming creature! testifying her fear. 

I beg pardon, Madam, [turning to Mrs. Moore, and courtesying, ] for thetrouble I have given you. --I beg pardon, Madam, to Miss Rawlins, [courtesying likewise to her, ]--you may both hear of me in a happierhour, if such a one fall to my lot--and God bless you both!--strugglingwith her tears till she sobbed--and away was tripping. 

I stepped to the door: I put it to; and setting my back against it, tookher struggling hand--My dearest life! my angel! said I, why will you thusdistress me?--Is this the forgiveness which you so solemnly promised?--

Unhand me, Sir!--You have no business with me! You have no right overme! You know you have not. 

But whither, whither, my dearest love, would you go!--Think you not thatI will follow you, were it to the world's end!--Whither would you go?

Well do you ask me, whither I would go, who have been the occasion that Ihave not a friend left!--But God, who knows my innocence, and my uprightintentions, will not wholly abandon me when I am out of your power; butwhile I am in it, I cannot expect a gleam of the divine grace or favourto reach me. 

How severe is this!--How shockingly severe!--Out of your presence, myangry fair-one, I can neither hope for the one nor the other. As mycousin Montague, in the letter you have read, observes, You are my polarstar and my guide, and if ever I am to be happy, either here orhereafter, it must be in and by you. 

She would then have opened the door. But I, respectfully opposing her, Begone, man! Begone, Mr. Lovelace! said she, stop not in my way. If youwould not that I should attempt the window, give me passage by the door;for, once more, you have no right to detain me. 

Your resentments, my dearest life, I will own to be well grounded. Iwill acknowledge that I have been all in fault. On my knee, [and down Idropt, ] I ask your pardon. And can you refuse to ratify your ownpromise? Look forward to the happy prospect before us. See you not myLord M. And Lady Sarah longing to bless you, for blessing me, and theirwhole family? Can you take no pleasure in the promised visit of LadyBetty and my cousin Montague? And in the protection they offer you, ifyou are dissatisfied with mine? Have you no wish to see your uncle'sfriend? Stay only till Captain Tomlinson comes. Receive from him thenews of your uncle's compliance with the wishes of both. 

She seemed altogether distressed; was ready to sink; and forced to leanagainst the wainscot, as I kneeled at her feet. A stream of tears atlast burst from her less indignant eyes. Good heaven! said she, liftingup her lovely face, and clasped hands, what is at last to be my destiny?Deliver me from this dangerous man; and direct me--I know not what to do, what I can do, nor what I ought to do!

The women, as I had owned our marriage to be but half completed, heardnothing in this whole scene to contradict (not flagrantly to contradict)what I had asserted. They believed they saw in her returning temper, andstaggered resolution, a love for me, which her indignation had beforesuppressed; and they joined to persuade her to tarry till the Captaincame, and to hear his proposals; representing the dangers to which shewould be exposed; the fatigues she might endure; a lady of herappearance, unguarded, unprotected. On the other hand they dwelt upon mydeclared contrition, and on my promises; for the performance of whichthey offered to be bound. So much had my kneeling humility affectedthem. 

Women, Jack, tacitly acknowledge the inferiority of their sex, in thepride they take to behold a kneeling lover at their feet. 

She turned from me, and threw herself into a chair. 

I arose and approached her with reverence. My dearest creature, said I, and was proceeding, but, with a face glowing with conscious dignity, sheinterrupted me--Ungenerous, ungrateful Lovelace! You know not the valueof the heart you have insulted! Nor can you conceive how much my souldespises your meanness. But meanness must ever be the portion of theman, who can act vilely!

The women believing we were likely to be on better terms, retired. Thedear perverse opposed their going; but they saw I was desirous of theirabsence; and when they had withdrawn, I once more threw myself at herfeet, and acknowledged my offences; implored her forgiveness for this onetime, and promised the most exact circumspection for the future. 

It was impossible for her she said to keep her memory and forgive me. What hadst thou seen in the conduct of Clarissa Harlowe, that shouldencourage such an insult upon her as thou didst dare to make? How meanlymust thou think of her, that thou couldst presume to be so guilty, andexpect her to be so weak as to forgive thee?

I besought her to let me read over to her Captain Tomlinson's letter. Iwas sure it was impossible she could have given it the requisiteattention. 

I have given it the requisite attention, said she; and the other letterstoo. So that what I say is upon deliberation. And what have I to fearfrom my brother and sister? They can but complete the ruin of myfortunes with my father and uncles. Let them and welcome. You, Sir, Ithank you, have lowered my fortunes; but, I bless God, that my mind isnot sunk with my fortunes. It is, on the contrary, raised above fortune, and above you; and for half a word they shall have the estate they enviedme for, and an acquittal from me of all the expectations from my familythat may make them uneasy. 

I lifted up my hands and eyes in silent admiration of her. 

My brother, Sir, may think me ruined; to the praise of your character, hemay think it impossible to be with you and be innocent. You have but toowell justified their harshest censures by every part of your conduct. But now that I have escaped from you, and that I am out of the reach ofyour mysterious devices, I will wrap myself up in mine own innocence, [and then the passionate beauty folded her arms about herself, ] and leaveto time, and to my future circumspection, the re-establishment of mycharacter. Leave me then, Sir, pursue me not!--

Good Heaven! [interrupting her]--and all this, for what?--Had I notyielded to your entreaties, (forgive me, Madam, ) you could not havecarried farther your resentments--

Wretch! Was it not crime enough to give occasion for those entreaties?Wouldst thou make a merit to me, that thou didst not utterly ruin herwhom thou oughtest to have protected? Begone, man! (turning from me, herface crimsoned over with passion. )--See me no more!--I cannot bear theein my sight!--

Dearest, dearest creature!

If I forgive thee, Lovelace--And there she stopped. --To endeavour, proceeded she, to endeavour by premeditation, by low contrivances, bycries of Fire! to terrify a poor creature who had consented to take awretched chance with thee for life!

For Heaven's sake, --offering to take her repulsing hand, as she wasflying from me towards the closet. 

What hast thou to do to plead for the sake of Heaven in thy favour!--Odarkest of human minds!

Then turning from me, wiping her eyes, and again turning towards me, buther sweet face half aside, What difficulties hast thou involved me in!That thou hadst a plain path before thee, after thou hadst betrayed meinto thy power. --At once my mind takes in the whole of thy crookedbehaviour; and if thou thinkest of Clarissa Harlowe as her proud hearttells her thou oughtest to think of her, thou wilt seek thy fortuneselsewhere. How often hast thou provoked me to tell thee, that my soulis above thee!

For Heaven's sake, Madam, for a soul's sake, which it is in your powerto save from perdition, forgive me the past offence. I am the greatestvillain on earth if it was a premeditated one; yet I presume not toexcuse myself. On your mercy I throw myself. I will not offer at anyplea but that of penitence. See but Captain Tomlinson. --See but LadyBetty and my cousin; let them plead for me; let them be guarantees formy honour. 

If Captain Tomlinson come while I stay here, I may see him; but as foryou, Sir--

Dearest creature! let me beg of you not to aggravate my offence to theCaptain when he comes. Let me beg of you--

What askest thou? It is not that I shall be of party against myself?That I shall palliate--

Do not charge me, Madam, interrupted I, with villainous premeditation!--Do not give such a construction to my offence as may weaken youruncle's opinion--as may strengthen your brother's--

She flung from me to the further end of the room, [she could go nofurther, ] and just then Mrs. Moore came up, and told her that dinner wasready, and that she had prevailed upon Miss Rawlins to give her hercompany. 

You must excuse me, Mrs. Moore, said she. Miss Rawlins I hope also will--but I cannot eat--I cannot go down. As for you, Sir, I suppose youwill think it right to depart hence; at least till the gentleman comeswhom you expect. 

I respectfully withdrew into the next room, that Mrs. Moore mightacquaint her, (I durst not myself, ) that I was her lodger and boarder, as, whisperingly, I desired that she would; and meeting Miss Rawlins inthe passage, Dearest Miss Rawlins, said I, stand my friend; join with Mrs. Moore to pacify my spouse, if she has any new flights upon my havingtaken lodgings, and intending to board here. I hope she will have moregenerosity than to think of hindering a gentlewoman from letting herlodgings. 

I suppose Mrs. Moore, (whom I left with my fair-one, ) had apprized her ofthis before Miss Rawlins went in; for I heard her say, while I withheldMiss Rawlins, --'No, indeed: he is much mistaken--surely he does not thinkI will. '

They both expostulated with her, as I could gather from bits and scrapsof what they said; for they spoke so low, that I could not hear anydistinct sentence, but from the fair perverse, whose anger made herlouder. And to this purpose I heard her deliver herself in answer todifferent parts of their talk to her:--'Good Mrs. Moore, dear MissRawlins, press me no further:--I cannot sit down at table with him!'

They said something, as I suppose in my behalf--'O the insinuatingwretch! What defence have I against a man, who, go where I will, canturn every one, even of the virtuous of my sex, in his favour?'

After something else said, which I heard not distinctly--'This isexecrable cunning!--Were you to know his wicked heart, he is not withouthope of engaging you two good persons to second him in the vilest of hismachinations. '

How came she, (thought I, at the instant, ) by all this penetration? Mydevil surely does not play me booty. If I thought he did, I would marry, and live honest, to be even with him. 

I suppose then they urged the plea which I hinted to Miss Rawlins atgoing in, that she would not be Mrs. Moore's hindrance; for thus sheexpressed herself--'He will no doubt pay you your own price. You neednot question his liberality; but one house cannot hold us. --Why, if itwould, did I fly from him, to seek refuge among strangers?'

Then, in answer to somewhat else they pleaded--''Tis a mistake, Madam;I am not reconciled to him, I will believe nothing he says. Has he notgiven you a flagrant specimen of what a man he is, and of what his iscapable, by the disguises you saw him in? My story is too long, and mystay here will be but short; or I could convince you that my resentmentsagainst him are but too well founded. '

I suppose that they pleaded for her leave for my dining with them; forshe said--'I have nothing to say to that: it is your own house, Mrs. Moore--it is your own table--you may admit whom you please to it, onlyleave me at my liberty to choose my company. '

Then, in answer, as I suppose, to their offer of sending her up a plate--'A bit of bread, if you please, and a glass of water; that's all I canswallow at present. I am really very much discomposed. Saw you not howbad I was? Indignation only could have supported my spirits!--

'I have no objections to his dining with you, Madam;' added she, inreply, I suppose, to a farther question of the same nature--'But I willnot stay a night in the same house where he lodges. '

I presume Miss Rawlins had told her that she would not stay dinner: forshe said, --'Let me not deprive Mrs. Moore of your company, Miss Rawlins. You will not be displeased with his talk. He can have no design uponyou. '

Then I suppose they pleaded what I might say behind her back, to make myown story good:--'I care not what he says or what he thinks of me. Repentance and amendment are all the harm I wish him, whatever becomes ofme!'

By her accent she wept when she spoke these last words. 

They came out both of them wiping their eyes; and would have persuaded meto relinquish the lodgings, and to depart till her uncle's friend came. But I knew better. I did not care to trust the Devil, well as she andMiss Howe suppose me to be acquainted with him, for finding her outagain, if once more she escaped me. 

What I am most afraid of is, that she will throw herself among her ownrelations; and, if she does, I am confident they will not be able towithstand her affecting eloquence. But yet, as thou'lt see, theCaptain's letter to me is admirably calculated to obviate myapprehensions on this score; particularly in that passage where it issaid, that her uncle thinks not himself at liberty to correspond directlywith her, or to receive applications from her--but through CaptainTomlinson, as is strongly implied. *

* See Letter XXIV. Of this volume. 

I must own, (notwithstanding the revenge I have so solemnly vowed, ) thatI would very fain have made for her a merit with myself in her returningfavour, and have owed as little as possible to the mediation of CaptainTomlinson. My pride was concerned in this: and this was one of myreasons for not bringing him with me. --Another was, that, if I wereobliged to have recourse to his assistance, I should be better able, (byvisiting without him, ) to direct him what to say or do, as I should findout the turn of her humour. 

I was, however, glad at my heart that Mrs. Moore came up so seasonablywith notice that dinner was ready. The fair fugitive was all in alt. She had the excuse for withdrawing, I had time to strengthen myself; theCaptain had time to come; and the lady to cool. --Shakspeare adviseswell:

 Oppose not rage, whilst rage is in its force; But give it way awhile, and let it waste. The rising deluge is not stopt with dams; Those it o'erbears, and drowns the hope of harvest. But, wisely manag'd, its divided strength Is sluic'd in channels, and securely drain'd: And when its force is spent, and unsupply'd, The residue with mounds may be restrain'd, And dry-shod we may pass the naked ford. 

I went down with the women to dinner. Mrs. Moore sent her fair boarderup a plate, but she only ate a little bit of bread, and drank a glass ofwater. I doubted not but she would keep her word, when it was once goneout. Is she not an Harlowe? She seems to be enuring herself tohardships, which at the worst she can never know; since, though sheshould ultimately refuse to be obliged to me, or (to express myself moresuitable to my own heart, ) to oblige me, every one who sees her mustbefriend her. 

But let me ask thee, Belford, Art thou not solicitous for me in relationto the contents of the letter which the angry beauty had written anddispatched away by man and horse; and for what may be Miss Howe's answerto it? Art thou not ready to inquire, Whether it be not likely that MissHowe, when she knows of her saucy friend's flight, will be concernedabout her letter, which she must know could not be at Wilson's till afterthat flight, and so, probably, would fall into my hands?--

All these things, as thou'lt see in the sequel, are provided for with asmuch contrivance as human foresight can admit. 

I have already told thee that Will. Is upon the lookout for old Grimes--old Grimes is, it seems, a gossiping, sottish rascal; and if Will. Canbut light of him, I'll answer for the consequence; For has not Will. Beenmy servant upwards of seven years?

LETTER XXVII

MR. LOVELACE[IN CONTINUATION. ]

We had at dinner, besides Miss Rawlins, a young widow-niece of Mrs. Moore, who is come to stay a month with her aunt--Bevis her name; veryforward, very lively, and a great admirer of me, I assure you;--hangingsmirkingly upon all I said; and prepared to approve of every word beforeI spoke: and who, by the time we had half-dined, (by the help of what shehad collected before, ) was as much acquainted with our story as either ofthe other two. 

As it behoved me to prepare them in my favour against whatever might comefrom Miss Howe, I improved upon the hint I had thrown out above-stairsagainst that mischief-making lady. I represented her to be an arrogantcreature, revengeful, artful, enterprising, and one who, had she been aman, would have sworn and cursed, and committed rapes, and played thedevil, as far as I knew: [I have no doubt of it, Jack!] but who, byadvantage of a female education, and pride and insolence, I believed waspersonally virtuous. 

Mrs. Bevis allowed, that there was a vast deal in education--and inpride too, she said. While Miss Rawlins came with a prudish God forbidthat virtue should be owing to education only! However, I declared thatMiss Howe was a subtle contriver of mischief; one who had always been myenemy: her motives I knew not: but despised the man whom her mother wasdesirous she should have, one Hickman; although I did not directly averthat she would rather have had me; yet they all immediately imagined thatthat was the ground of her animosity to me, and of her envy to mybeloved: and it was pity, they said, that so fine a young lady did notsee through such a pretended friend. 

And yet nobody [added I] has more reason than she to know by experiencethe force of a hatred founded in envy; as I hinted to you above, Mrs. Moore, and to you, Miss Rawlins, in the case of her sister Arabella. 

I had compliments made to my person and talents on this occasion: whichgave me a singular opportunity of displaying my modesty, by disclaimingthe merit of them, with a No, indeed!--I should be very vain, Ladies, ifI thought so. While thus abusing myself, and exalting Miss Howe, I gottheir opinion both for modesty and generosity; and had all the graceswhich I disclaimed thrown in upon me besides. 

In short, they even oppressed that modesty, which (to speak modestly ofmyself) their praises created, by disbelieving all I said against myself. 

And, truly, I must needs say, they have almost persuaded even me myself, that Miss Howe is actually in love with me. I have often been willing tohope this. And who knows but she may? The Captain and I have agreed, that it shall be so insinuated occasionally--And what's thy opinion, Jack? She certainly hates Hickman; and girls who are disengaged seldomhate, though they may not love: and if she had rather have another, whynot that other ME? For am I not a smart fellow, and a rake? And do notyour sprightly ladies love your smart fellow, and your rakes? And whereis the wonder, that the man who could engage the affections of MissHarlowe, should engage those of a lady (with her* alas's) who would behonoured in being deemed her second?

* See Letter XX. Of this volume, where Miss Howe says, Alas! my dear, Iknow you loved him!

Nor accuse thou me of SINGULAR vanity in this presumption, Belford. Wertthou to know the secret vanity that lurks in the hearts of those whodisguise or cloke it best, thou wouldst find great reason to acquit, atleast, to allow for me: since it is generally the conscious over-fulnessof conceit, that makes the hypocrite most upon his guard to conceal it. Yet with these fellows, proudly humble as they are, it will break outsometimes in spite of their clokes, though but in self-denying, compliment-begging self-degradation. 

But now I have undervalued myself, in apologizing to thee on thisoccasion, let me use another argument in favour of my observation, thatthe ladies generally prefer a rake to a sober man; and of my presumptionupon it, that Miss Howe is in love with me: it is this: common fame says, That Hickman is a very virtuous, a very innocent fellow--a male-virgin, Iwarrant!--An odd dog I always thought him. Now women, Jack, like notnovices. Two maidenheads meeting together in wedlock, the first childmust be a fool, is their common aphorism. They are pleased with a loveof the sex that is founded in the knowledge of it. Reason good; novicesexpect more than they can possibly find in the commerce with them. Theman who knows them, yet has ardours for them, to borrow a word from MissHowe, * though those ardours are generally owing more to the devil withinhim, than to the witch without him, is the man who makes them the highestand most grateful compliment. He knows what to expect, and with what tobe satisfied. 

* See Vol. IV. Letters XXIX. And XXXIV. 

Then the merit of a woman, in some cases, must be ignorance, whether realor pretended. The man, in these cases, must be an adept. Will it thenbe wondered at, that a woman prefers a libertine to a novice?--While sheexpects in the one the confidence she wants, she considers the other andherself as two parallel lines, which, though they run side by side, cannever meet. 

Yet in this the sex is generally mistaken too; for these sheepish fellowsare sly. I myself was modest once; and this, as I have elsewhere hintedto thee, * has better enabled me to judge of both sexes. 

* See Vol. III. Letter XXIII. 

But to proceed with my narrative:

Having thus prepared every one against any letter should come from MissHowe, and against my beloved's messenger returns, I thought it proper toconclude that subject with a hint, that my spouse could not bear to haveany thing said that reflected upon Miss Howe; and, with a deep sigh, added, that I had been made very unhappy more than once by the ill-willof ladies whom I had never offended. 

The widow Bevis believed that might very easily be. Will. Both withoutand within, [for I intend he shall fall in love with widow Moore's maid, and have saved one hundred pounds in my service, at least, ] will be greathelps, as things may happen. 

LETTER XXVIII

MR. LOVELACE[IN CONTINUATION. ]

We had hardly dined, when my coachman, who kept a look-out for CaptainTomlinson, as Will. Did for old Grimes, conducted hither that worthygentleman, attended by one servant, both on horseback. He alighted. Iwent out to meet him at the door. 

Thou knowest his solemn appearance, and unblushing freedom; and yet canstnot imagine what a dignity the rascal assumed, nor how respectful to himI was. 

I led him into the parlour, and presented him to the women, and them tohim. I thought it highly imported me (as they might still have somediffidences about our marriage, from my fair-one's home-pushed questionson that head) to convince them entirely of the truth of all I hadasserted. And how could I do this better, than by dialoguing a littlewith him before them?

Dear Captain, I thought you long; for I have had a terrible conflict withmy spouse. 

Capt. I am sorry that I am later than my intention--my account with mybanker--[There's a dog, Jack!] took me up longer time to adjust than Ihad foreseen [all the time pulling down and stroking his ruffles]: forthere was a small difference between us--only twenty pounds, indeed, which I had taken no account of. 

The rascal has not seen twenty pounds of his own these ten years. 

Then had we between us the character of the Harlowe family; I railedagainst them all; the Captain taking his dear friend Mr. John Harlowe'spart; with a Not so fast!--not so fast, young gentleman!--and the likefree assumptions. 

He accounted for their animosity by my defiances: no good family, havingsuch a charming daughter, would care to be defied, instead of courted: hemust speak his mind: never was a double-tongued man. --He appealed to theladies, if he were not right?

He got them on his side. 

The correction I had given the brother, he told me, must have aggravatedmatters. 

How valiant this made me look to the women!--The sex love us mettledfellows at their hearts. 

Be that as it would, I should never love any of the family but my spouse;and wanting nothing from them, I would not, but for her sake, have goneso far as I had gone towards a reconciliation. 

This was very good of me; Mrs. Moore said. 

Very good indeed; Miss Rawlins. 

Good;--It is more than good; it is very generous; said the widow. 

Capt. Why so it is, I must needs say: for I am sensible that Mr. Lovelace has been rudely treated by them all--more rudely, than it couldhave been imagined a man of his quality and spirit would have put upwith. But then, Sir, [turning to me, ] I think you are amply rewarded insuch a lady; and that you ought to forgive the father for the daughter'ssake. 

Mrs. Moore. Indeed so I think. 

Miss R. So must every one think who has seen the lady. 

Widow B. A fine lady, to be sure! But she has a violent spirit; andsome very odd humours too, by what I have heard. The value of goodhusbands is not known till they are lost!

Her conscience then drew a sigh from her. 

Lovel. Nobody must reflect upon my angel!--An angel she is--some littleblemishes, indeed, as to her over-hasty spirit, and as to her unforgivingtemper. But this she has from the Harlowes; instigated too by that MissHowe. --But her innumerable excellencies are all her own. 

Capt. Ay, talk of spirit, there's a spirit, now you have named MissHowe! [And so I led him to confirm all I had said of that vixen. ] Yetshe was to be pitied too; looking with meaning at me. 

As I have already hinted, I had before agreed with him to impute secretlove occasionally to Miss Howe, as the best means to invalidate all thatmight come from her in my disfavour. 

Capt. Mr. Lovelace, but that I know your modesty, or you could give areason--

Lovel. Looking down, and very modest--I can't think so, Captain--butlet us call another cause. 

Every woman present could look me in the face, so bashful was I. 

Capt. Well, but as to our present situation--only it mayn't be proper--looking upon me, and round upon the women. 

Lovel. O Captain, you may say any thing before this company--only, Andrew, [to my new servant, who attended us at table, ] do you withdraw:this good girl [looking at the maid-servant] will help us to all we want. 

Away went Andrew: he wanted not his cue; and the maid seemed pleased atmy honour's preference of her. 

Capt. As to our present situation, I say, Mr. Lovelace--why, Sir, weshall be all untwisted, let me tell you, if my friend Mr. John Harlowewere to know what that is. He would as much question the truth of yourbeing married, as the rest of the family do. 

Here the women perked up their ears; and were all silent attention. 

Capt. I asked you before for particulars, Mr. Lovelace; but youdeclined giving them. --Indeed it may not be proper for me to beacquainted with them. --But I must own, that it is past my comprehension, that a wife can resent any thing a husband can do (that is not a breachof the peace) so far as to think herself justified for eloping from him. 

Lovel. Captain Tomlinson:--Sir--I do assure you, that I shall beoffended--I shall be extremely concerned--if I hear that word elopingmentioned again--

Capt. Your nicety and your love, Sir, may make you take offence--but itis my way to call every thing by its proper name, let who will beoffended--

Thou canst not imagine, Belford, how brave and how independent the rascallooked. 

Capt. When, young gentleman, you shall think proper to give usparticulars, we will find a word for this rash act in so admirable alady, that shall please you better. --You see, Sir, that being therepresentative of my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe, I speak as freely as Isuppose he would do, if present. But you blush, Sir--I beg your pardon, Mr. Lovelace: it becomes not a modest man to pry into those secrets, which a modest man cannot reveal. 

I did not blush, Jack; but denied not the compliment, and looked down:the women seemed delighted with my modesty: but the widow Bevis was moreinclined to laugh at me than praise me for it. 

Capt. Whatever be the cause of this step, (I will not again, Sir, callit elopement, since that harsh word wounds your tenderness, ) I cannot butexpress my surprise upon it, when I recollect the affectionate behaviour, to which I was witness between you, when I attended you last. Over-love, Sir, I think you once mention--but over-love [smiling] give me leave tosay, Sir, it is an odd cause of quarrel--few ladies--

Lovel. Dear Captain!--And I tried to blush. 

The women also tried; and being more used to it, succeeded better. --Mrs. Bevis indeed has a red-hot countenance, and always blushes. 

Miss R. It signifies nothing to mince the matter: but the lady above asgood as denies her marriage. You know, Sir, that she does; turning tome. 

Capt. Denies her marriage! Heavens! how then have I imposed upon mydear friend Mr. John Harlowe!

Lovel. Poor dear!--But let not her veracity be called into question. She would not be guilty of a wilful untruth for the world. 

Then I had all their praises again. 

Lovel. Dear creature!--She thinks she has reason for her denial. Youknow, Mrs. Moore; you know, Miss Rawlins; what I owned to you above as myvow. 

I looked down, and, as once before, turned round my diamond ring. 

Mrs. Moore looked awry, and with a leer at Miss Rawlins, as to herpartner in the hinted-at reference. 

Miss Rawlins looked down as well as I; her eyelids half closed, as ifmumbling a pater-noster, meditating her snuff-box, the distance betweenher nose and chin lengthened by a close-shut mouth. 

She put me in mind of the pious Mrs. Fetherstone at Oxford, whom Ipointed out to thee once, among other grotesque figures, at St. Mary'schurch, whither we went to take a view of her two sisters: her eyes shut, not daring to trust her heart with them open; and but just half-rearingher lids, to see who the next comer was; and falling them again, when hercuriosity was satisfied. 

The widow Bevis gazed, as if on the hunt for a secret. 

The Captain looked archly, as if half in the possession of one. 

Mrs. Moore at last broke the bashful silence. Mrs. Lovelace's behaviour, she said, could be no otherwise so well accounted for, as by the illoffices of that Miss Howe; and by the severity of her relations; whichmight but too probably have affected her head a little at times: adding, that it was very generous in me to give way to the storm when it was up, rather than to exasperate at such a time. 

But let me tell you, Sirs, said the widow Bevis, that is not what onehusband in a thousand would have done. 

I desired, that no part of this conversation might be hinted to myspouse; and looked still more bashfully. Her great fault, I must own, was over-delicacy. 

The Captain leered round him; and said, he believed he could guess fromthe hints I had given him in town (of my over-love) and from what had nowpassed, that we had not consummated our marriage. 

O Jack! how sheepishly then looked, or endeavoured to look, thy friend!how primly goody Moore! how affectedly Miss Rawlins!--while the honestwidow Bevis gazed around her fearless; and though only simpering with hermouth, her eyes laughed outright, and seemed to challenge a laugh fromevery eye in the company. 

He observed, that I was a phoenix of a man, if so; and he could not buthope that all matters would be happily accommodated in a day or two; andthat then he should have the pleasure to aver to her uncle, that he waspresent, as he might say, on our wedding-day. 

The women seemed all to join in the same hope. 

Ah, Captain! Ah, Ladies! how happy should I be, if I could bring my dearspouse to be of the same mind!

It would be a very happy conclusion of a very knotty affair, said thewidow Bevis; and I see not why we may not make this very night a merryone. 

The Captain superciliously smiled at me. He saw plainly enough, he said, that we had been at children's play hitherto. A man of my character, whocould give way to such a caprice as this, must have a prodigious valuefor his lady. But one thing he would venture to tell me; and that wasthis--that, however desirous young skittish ladies might be to have theirway in this particular, it was a very bad setting-out for the man; as itgave his bride a very high proof of the power she had over him: and hewould engage, that no woman, thus humoured, ever valued the man the morefor it; but very much the contrary--and there were reasons to be givenwhy she should not. 

Well, well, Captain, no more of this subject before the ladies. --Onefeels [shrugging my shoulders in a bashful try-to-blush manner] that oneis so ridiculous--I have been punished enough for my tender folly. 

Miss Rawlins had taken her fan, and would needs hide her face behind it--I suppose because her blush was not quite ready. 

Mrs. Moore hemmed, and looked down; and by that gave her's over. 

While the jolly widow, laughing out, praised the Captain as one ofHudibras's metaphysicians, repeating, He knew what's what, and that's as high As metaphysic wit can fly. 

This made Miss Rawlins blush indeed:--Fie, fie, Mrs. Bevis! cried she, unwilling, I suppose, to be thought absolutely ignorant. 

Upon the whole, I began to think that I had not made a bad exchange ofour professing mother, for the unprofessing Mrs. Moore. And indeed thewomen and I, and my beloved too, all mean the same thing: we only differabout the manner of coming at the proposed end. 

LETTER XXIX

MR. LOVELACE[IN CONTINUATION. ]

It was now high time to acquaint my spouse, that Captain Tomlinson wascome. And the rather, as the maid told us, that the lady had asked herif such a gentleman [describing him] was not in the parlour?

Mrs. Moore went up, and requested, in my name, that she would give usaudience. 

But she returned, reporting my beloved's desire, that Captain Tomlinsonwould excuse her for the present. She was very ill. Her spirits weretoo weak to enter into conversation with him; and she must lie down. 

I was vexed, and at first extremely disconcerted. The Captain was vexedtoo. And my concern, thou mayest believe, was the greater on hisaccount. 

She had been very much fatigued, I own. Her fits in the morning musthave disordered her: and she had carried her resentment so high, that itwas the less wonder she should find herself low, when her raised spiritshad subsided. Very low, I may say; if sinkings are proportioned torisings; for she had been lifted up above the standard of a commonmortal. 

The Captain, however, sent up his own name, that if he could be admittedto drink one dish of tea with her, he should take it for a favour: andwould go to town, and dispatch some necessary business, in order, ifpossible, to leave his morning free to attend her. 

But she pleaded a violent head-ache; and Mrs. Moore confirmed the plea tobe just. 

I would have had the Captain lodge there that night, as well incompliment to him, as introductory to my intention of entering myselfupon my new-taken apartment: but his hours were of too much importance tohim to stay the evening. 

It was indeed very inconvenient for him, he said, to return in themorning; but he is willing to do all in his power to heal this breach, and that as well for the sakes of me and my lady, as for that of his dearfriend Mr. John Harlowe; who must not know how far this misunderstandinghad gone. He would therefore only drink one dish of tea with the ladiesand me. 

And accordingly, after he had done so, and I had had a little privateconversation with him, he hurried away. 

His fellow had given him, in the interim, a high character to Mrs. Moore's servants: and this reported by the widow Bevis (who being noproud woman, is hail fellow well met, as the saying is, with all heraunt's servants) he was a fine gentleman, a discreet gentleman, a man ofsense and breeding, with them all: and it was pity, that, with such greatbusiness upon his hands, he should be obliged to come again. 

My life for your's, audibly whispered the widow Bevis, there is humour aswell as head-ache in somebody's declining to see this worthy gentleman. --Ah, Lord! how happy might some people be if they would!

No perfect happiness in this world, said I, very gravely, and with asigh; for the widow must know that I heard her. If we have not realunhappiness, we can make it, even from the overflowings of our goodfortune. 

Very true, and very true, the two widows. A charming observation! Mrs. Bevis. Miss Rawlins smiled her assent to it; and I thought she called mein her heart charming man! for she professes to be a great admirer ofmoral observations. 

I had hardly taken leave of the Captain, and sat down again with thewomen, when Will. Came; and calling me out, 'Sir, Sir, ' said he, grinningwith a familiarity in his looks as if what he had to say entitled him totake liberties; 'I have got the fellow down!--I have got old Grimes--hah, hah, hah, hah!--He is at the Lower Flask--almost in the condition ofDavid's sow, and please your honour--[the dog himself not much better]here is his letter--from--from Miss Howe--ha, ha, ha, ha, ' laughed thevarlet; holding it fast, as if to make conditions with me, and to excitemy praises, as well as my impatience. 

I could have knocked him down; but he would have his say out--'old Grimesknows not that I have the letter--I must get back to him before he missesit--I only make a pretence to go out for a few minutes--but--but'--andthen the dog laughed again--'he must stay--old Grimes must stay--till Igo back to pay the reckoning. '

D--n the prater; grinning rascal! The letter! The letter!

He gathered in his wide mothe, as he calls it, and gave me the letter;but with a strut, rather than a bow; and then sidled off like one ofwidow Sorlings's dunghill cocks, exulting after a great feat performed. And all the time that I was holding up the billet to the light, to try toget at its contents without breaking the seal, [for, dispatched in ahurry, it had no cover, ] there stood he, laughing, shrugging, playing offhis legs; now stroking his shining chin, now turning his hat upon histhumb! then leering in my face, flourishing with his head--O Christ!now-and-then cried the rascal--

What joy has this dog in mischief!--More than I can have in thecompletion of my most favourite purposes!--These fellows are ever happierthan their masters. 

I was once thinking to rumple up this billet till I had broken the seal. Young families [Miss Howe's is not an ancient one] love ostentatioussealings: and it might have been supposed to have been squeezed in piecesin old Grimes's breeches-pocket. But I was glad to be saved the guilt aswell as suspicion of having a hand in so dirty a trick; for thus much ofthe contents (enough for my purpose) I was enabled to scratch out incharacter without it; the folds depriving me only of a few connectingwords, which I have supplied between hooks. 

My Miss Harlowe, thou knowest, had before changed her name to MissLaetitia Beaumont. Another alias now, Jack, to it; for this billet wasdirected to her by the name of Mrs. Harriot Lucas. I have learned her tobe half a rogue, thou seest. 

'I congratulate you, my dear, with all my heart and soul, upon [yourescape] from the villain. [I long] for the particulars of all. [Mymother] is out; but, expecting her return every minute, I dispatched[your] messenger instantly. [I will endeavour to come at] Mrs. Townsendwithout loss of time; and will write at large in a day or two, if in thattime I can see her. [Mean time I] am excessively uneasy for a letter Isent you yesterday by Collins, [who must have left it at] Wilson's afteryou got away. [It is of very] great importance. [I hope the] villainhas it not. I would not for the world [that he should. ] Immediatelysend for it, if, by doing so, the place you are at [will not be]discovered. If he has it, let me know it by some way [out of] hand. Ifnot, you need not send. 

'Ever, ever your's, 'A. H. 'June 9. '

***

O Jack! what heart's-ease does this interception give me!--I sent therascal back with the letter to old Grimes, and charged him to drink nodeeper. He owned, that he was half-seas over, as he phrased it. 

Dog! said I, are you not to court one of Mrs. Moore's maids to-night?--

Cry your mercy, Sir!--I will be sober. --I had forgot that--but old Grimesis plaguy tough, I thought I should never have got him down. 

Away, villain! Let old Grimes come, and on horseback too, to the door--

He shall, and please your honour, if I can get him on the saddle, and ifhe can sit--

And charge him not to have alighted, nor to have seen any body--

Enough, Sir, familiarly nodding his head, to show he took me. And awaywent the villain--into the parlour, to the women, I. 

In a quarter of an hour came old Grimes on horseback, waving to hissaddle-bow, now on this side, now on that; his head, at others, joiningto that of his more sober beast. 

It looked very well to the women that I made no effort to speak to oldGrimes, (though I wished, before them, that I knew the contents of whathe brought;) but, on the contrary, desired that they would instantly letmy spouse know that her messenger was returned. 

Down she flew, violently as she had the head-ache!

O how I prayed for an opportunity to be revenged of her for theungrateful trouble she had given to her uncle's friend!

She took the letter from old Grimes with her own hands, and retired to aninner parlour to read it. 

She presently came out again to the fellow, who had much ado to sit hishorse--Here is your money, friend. --I thought you long: but what shall Ido to get somebody to go to town immediately for me? I see you cannot. 

Old Grimes took his money, let fall his hand in doffing it; had it givenhim, and rode away; his eyes isinglass, and set in his head, as I sawthrough the window, and in a manner speechless--all his language hiccup. My dog needed not to have gone so deep with this tough old Grimes. Butthe rascal was in his kingdom with him. 

The lady applied to Mrs. Moore; she mattered not the price. Could a manand horse be engaged for her?--Only to go for a letter left for her, atone Mr. Wilson's, in Pall-mall. 

A poor neighbour was hired--a horse procured for him--he had hisdirections. 

In vain did I endeavour to engaged my beloved, when she was below. Herhead-ache, I suppose, returned. --She, like the rest of her sex, can beill or well when she pleases. 

I see her drift, thought I; it is to have all her lights from Miss Howebefore she resolves, and to take her measures accordingly. 

Up she went expressing great impatience about the letter she had sentfor; and desired Mrs. Moore to let her know if I offered to send any oneof my servants to town--to get at the letter, I suppose, was her fear;but she might have been quite easy on that head; and yet, perhaps, wouldnot, had she known that the worthy Captain Tomlinson, (who will be intown before her messenger, ) will leave there the important letter, whichI hope will help to pacify her, and reconcile her to me. 

O Jack, Jack! thinkest thou that I will take all this roguish pains, andbe so often called villain for nothing?

But yet, is it not taking pains to come at the finest creature in theworld, not for a transitory moment only, but for one of our lives! Thestruggle only, Whether I am to have her in my own way, or in her's?

But now I know thou wilt be frightened out of thy wits for me--What, Lovelace! wouldest thou let her have a letter that will inevitably blowthee up; and blow up the mother, and all her nymphs!--yet not intend toreform, nor intend to marry?

Patience, puppy!--Canst thou not trust thy master?

LETTER XXX

MR. LOVELACE[IN CONTINUATION. ]

I went up to my new-taken apartment, and fell to writing in character, asusual. I thought I had made good my quarters, but the cruel creature, understanding that I intended to take up my lodgings there, declared withso much violence against it, that I was obliged to submit, and to acceptof another lodging, about twelve doors off, which Mrs. Moore recommended. And all the advantage I could obtain was, that Will. , unknown to myspouse, and for fear of a freak, should lie in the house. 

Mrs. Moore, indeed, was unwilling to disoblige either of us. But MissRawlins was of opinion, that nothing more ought to be allowed me: and yetMrs. Moore owned, that the refusal was a strange piece of tyranny to ahusband, if I were a husband. 

I had a good mind to make Miss Rawlins smart for it. Come and see MissRawlins, Jack. --If thou likest her, I'll get her for thee with awet-finger, as the saying is!

The widow Bevis indeed stickled hard for me. [An innocent, or injuredman, will have friends every where. ] She said, that to bear much withsome wives, was to be obliged to bear more; and I reflected, with a sigh, that tame spirits must always be imposed upon. And then, in my heart, Irenewed my vows of revenge upon this haughty and perverse beauty. 

The second fellow came back from town about nine o'clock, with MissHowe's letter of Wednesday last. 'Collins, it seems, when he left it, had desired, that it might be safely and speedily delivered into MissLaetitia Beaumont's own hands. But Wilson, understanding that neithershe nor I were in town, [he could not know of our difference thou mustthink, ] resolved to take care of it till our return, in order to give itinto one of our own hands; and now delivered it to her messenger. '

This was told her. Wilson, I doubt not, is in her favour upon it. 

She took the letter with great eagerness; opened it in a hurry, [am gladshe did; yet, I believe, all was right, ] before Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Bevis, [Miss Rawlins was gone home;] and said, she would not for theworld that I should have had that letter, for the sake of her dear friendthe writer, who had written to her very uneasily about it. 

Her dear friend! repeated Mrs. Bevis, when she told me this:--suchmischief-makers are always deemed dear friends till they are found out!

The widow says that I am the finest gentleman she ever beheld. 

I have found a warm kiss now-and-then very kindly taken. 

I might be a very wicked fellow, Jack, if I were to do all the mischiefin my power. But I am evermore for quitting a too-easy prey to reptilerakes! What but difficulty, (though the lady is an angel, ) engages me toso much perseverance here?--And here, conquer or die! is now thedetermination!

***

I have just now parted with this honest widow. She called upon me at mynew lodgings. I told her, that I saw I must be further obliged to her inthe course of this difficult affair. She must allow me to make her ahandsome present when all was happily over. But I desired that she wouldtake no notice of what should pass between us, not even to her aunt; forthat she, as I saw, was in the power of Miss Rawlins: and Miss Rawlins, being a maiden gentlewoman, knew not the right and the fit in matrimonialmatters, as she, my dear widow, did. 

Very true: How should she? said Mrs. Bevis, proud of knowing--nothing!But, for her part, she desired no present. It was enough if she couldcontribute to reconcile man and wife, and disappoint mischief-makers. She doubted not, that such an envious creature as Miss Howe was glad thatMrs. Lovelace had eloped--jealousy and love was Old Nick!

See, Belford, how charmingly things work between me and my newacquaintance, the widow!--Who knows, but that she may, after a littlefarther intimacy, (though I am banished the house on nights, ) contrive amidnight visit for me to my spouse, when all is still and fast asleep?

Where can a woman be safe, who has once entered the lists with acontriving and intrepid lover?

But as to this letter, methinkest thou sayest, of Miss Howe?

I knew thou wouldest be uneasy for me. But did not I tell thee that Ihad provided for every thing? That I always took care to keep sealsentire, and to preserve covers?* Was it not easy then, thinkest thou, tocontrive a shorter letter out of a longer; and to copy the very words?

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

I can tell thee, it was so well ordered, that, not being suspected tohave been in my hands, it was not easy to find me out. Had it been mybeloved's hand, there would have been no imitating it for such a length. Her delicate and even mind is seen in the very cut of her letters. MissHowe's hand is no bad one, but it is not so equal and regular. Thatlittle devil's natural impatience hurrying on her fingers, gave, Isuppose, from the beginning, her handwriting, as well as the rest of her, its fits and starts, and those peculiarities, which, like strong muscularlines in a face, neither the pen, nor the pencil, can miss. 

Hast thou a mind tot see what it was I permitted Miss Howe to write toher lovely friend? Why then, read it here, so extracted from her's ofWednesday last, with a few additions of my own. The additionsunderscored. *

* Editor's note: In place of italics, as in the original, I havesubstituted hooks [ ]. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, You will perhaps think that I have been too long silent. But I had beguntwo letters at different times since my last, and written a great dealeach time; and with spirit enough I assure you; incensed as I was againstthe abominable wretch you are with; particularly on reading your's of the21st of the past month. 

The FIRST I intended to keep open till I could give you some account ofmy proceedings with Mrs. Townsend. It was some days before I saw her:and this intervenient space giving me time to reperuse what I hadwritten, I thought it proper to lay that aside, and to write in a style alittle less fervent; for you would have blamed me, I knew, for thefreedom of some of my expressions, (execrations, if you please. ) Andwhen I had gone a good way in the SECOND, and change your prospects, onhis communicating to you Miss Montague's letter, and his betterbehaviour, occasioning a change in your mind, I laid that aside also. And in this uncertainty thought I would wait to see the issue of affairsbetween you before I wrote again; believing that all would soon bedecided one way or other. 

***

[Here I was forced to break off. I am too little my own mistress:--Mymother* is always up and down--and watching as if I were writing to afellow. What need I (she asks me, ) lock myself in, ** if I am onlyreading past correspondencies? For that is my pretence, when she comespoking in with her face sharpened to an edge, as I may say, by acuriosity that gives her more pain than pleasure. --The Lord forgive me;but I believe I shall huff her next time she comes in. ]

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. ** Ibid. 

***

Do you forgive me too, my dear--my mother ought; because she says I am myfather's girl; and because I am sure I am her's. 

[Upon my life, my dear, I am sometimes of opinion, that this vile man wascapable of meaning you dishonour. When I look back upon his past conduct, I cannot help, and verily believe, that he has laid aside such thoughts. My reasons for both opinions I will give you. ]

[For the first: to-wit, that he had it once in his head to take you atadvantage if he could, I consider* that] pride, revenge, and a delight totread in unbeaten paths, are principal ingredients in the character ofthis finished libertine. He hates all your family, yourself excepted--yet is a savage in love. His pride, and the credit which a few plausiblequalities, sprinkled among his odious ones, have given him, have securedhim too good a reception from our eye-judging, our undistinguishing, ourself--flattering, our too-confiding sex, to make assiduity andobsequiousness, and a conquest of his unruly passions, any part of hisstudy. 

He has some reason for his animosity to all the men, and to one woman ofyour family. He has always shown you, and his own family too, that heprefers his pride to his interest. He is a declared marriage-hater; anotorious intriguer; full of his inventions, and glorying in them. --Ashis vanity had made him imagine that no woman could be proof against hislove, no wonder that he struggled like a lion held in toils, * against apassion that he thought not returned. ** Hence, perhaps, it is notdifficult to believe, that it became possible for such a wretch as thisto give way to his old prejudices against marriage; and to that revengewhich had always been a first passion with him. ***

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. ** Ibid. *** Ibid. 

[And hence we may account for] his delays--his teasing ways--his bringingyou to bear with his lodging in the same house--his making you pass tothe other people of it as his wife--his bringing you into the company ofhis libertine companions--the attempt of imposing upon you that MissPartington for a bedfellow, &c. 

[My reasons for a contrary opinion, to wit, that he is now resolved to doyou all the justice in his power to do you, ] are these:--That he seesthat all his own family* have warmly engaged themselves in your cause:that the horrid wretch loves you; with such a love, however, as Herodloved his Mariamne: that, on inquiry, I find it to be true, thatCounsellor Williams, (whom Mr. Hickman knows to be a man of eminence inhis profession, ) has actually as good as finished the settlements: thattwo draughts of them have been made; one avowedly to be sent to this veryCaptain Tomlinson:--and I find, that a license has actually been morethan once endeavoured to be obtained, and that difficulties have hithertobeen made, equally to Lovelace's vexation and disappointment. Mymother's proctor, who is very intimate with the proctor applied to by thewretch, has come at this information in confidence; and hints, that, asMr. Lovelace is a man of high fortunes, these difficulties will probablybe got over. 

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

[I had once resolved to make strict inquiry about Tomlinson; and still, if you will, your uncle's favourite housekeeper may be sounded at adistance. ]

[I know that the matter is so laid, *] that Mrs. Hodges is supposed toknow nothing of the treaty set on foot by means of Captain Tomlinson. But your uncle is an--

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

But your uncle is an old man;* and old men imagine themselves to be underobligation to their paramours, if younger than themselves, and seldomkeep any thing from their knowledge. --Yet, methinks, there can be noneed; since Tomlinson, as you describe him, is so good a man, and so muchof a gentleman; the end to be answered by his being an impostor so muchmore than necessary, if Lovelace has villany in his head. --And thus whathe communicated to you of Mr. Hickman's application to your uncle, and ofMrs. Norton's to your mother (some of which particulars I am satisfiedhis vile agent Joseph Leman could not reveal to his viler employer); hispushing on the marriage-day in the name of your uncle; which it could notanswer any wicked purpose for him to do; and what he writes of youruncle's proposal, to have it thought that you were married from the timethat you had lived in one house together; and that to be made to agreewith the time of Mr. Hickman's visit to your uncle; the insisting on atrusty person's being present at the ceremony, at that uncle's nomination--these things make me [assured that he now at last means honourably. ]

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

[But if any unexpected delays should happen on his side, acquaint me, mydear, with the very street where Mrs. Sinclair lives; and where Mrs. Fretchville's house is situated (which I cannot find that you have evermentioned in your former letters--which is a little odd); and I will makestrict inquiries of them, and of Tomlinson too; and I will (if your heartwill let you take my advice) soon procure you a refuge from him with Mrs. Townsend. ]

[But why do I now, when you seem to be in so good a train, puzzle andperplex you with my retrospections? And yet they may be of use to you, if any delay happen on his part. ]

[But that I think cannot well be. What you have therefore now to do, isso to behave to this proud-spirited wretch, as may banish from his mindall remembrance of] past disobligations, * and to receive his addresses, as those of a betrothed lover. You will incur the censure of prudery andaffectation, if you keep him at that distance which you have hitherto[kept him at. ] His sudden (and as suddenly recovered) illness has givenhim an opportunity to find out that you love him (Alas! my dear, I knewyou loved him!) He has seemed to change his nature, and is all love andgentleness. [And no more quarrels now, I beseech you. ]

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

[I am very angry with him, nevertheless, for the freedoms which he tookwith your person;* and I think some guard is necessary, as he iscertainly an encroacher. But indeed all men are so; and you are such acharming creature, and have kept him at such a distance!--But no more ofthis subject. Only, my dear, be not over-nice, now you are so near thestate. You see what difficulties you laid yourself under, ] whenTomlinson's letter called you again into [the wretch's] company. 

* See Letter XI. Of this volume. 

If you meet with no impediments, no new causes of doubt, * your reputationin the eye of the world is concerned, that you should be his, [and, asyour uncle rightly judges, be thought to have been his before now. ] Andyet, [let me tell you, ] I [can hardly] bear [to think, ] that theselibertines should be rewarded for their villany with the best of the sex, when the worst of it are too good for them. 

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

I shall send this long letter by Collins, * who changes his day to obligeme. As none of our letters by Wilson's conveyance have miscarried, whenyou have been in more apparently-disagreeable situations than you are inat present, [I have no doubt] that this will go safe. 

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

Miss Lardner* (whom you have seen hat her cousin Biddulph's) saw you atSt. James's church on Sunday was fortnight. She kept you in her eyeduring the whole time; but could not once obtain the notice of your's, though she courtesied to you twice. She thought to pay her complimentsto you when the service was over; for she doubted not but you weremarried--and for an odd reason--because you came to church by yourself. Every eye, (as usual, wherever you are, ) she said was upon you; and thisseeming to give you hurry, and you being nearer the door than she, youslid out before she could get to you. But she ordered her servant tofollow you till you were housed. This servant saw you step into a chairwhich waited for you; and you ordered the men to carry you to the placewhere they took you up. She [describes the house] as a very genteelhouse, and fit to receive people of fashion: [and what makes me mentionthis, is, that perhaps you will have a visit from her; or message, atleast. ]

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

[So that you have Mr. Doleman's testimony to the credit of the houseand people you are with; and he is] a man of fortune, and somereputation; formerly a rake indeed; but married to a woman of family;and having had a palsy blow, one would think a penitent. * You have [alsoMr. Mennell's at least passive testimony; Mr. ] Tomlinson's; [and now, lastly, Miss Lardner's; so that there will be the less need for inquiry:but you know my busy and inquisitive temper, as well as my affection foryou, and my concern for your honour. But all doubt will soon be lost incertainty. ]

[Nevertheless I must add, that I would have you] command me up, if I canbe of the least service or pleasure to you. * I value not fame; I valuenot censure; nor even life itself, I verily think, as I do your honour, and your friendship--For is not your honour my honour? And is not yourfriendship the pride of my life?

* See Letter XX. Of this volume. 

May Heaven preserve you, my dearest creature, in honour and safety, isthe prayer, the hourly prayer, of

Your ever-faithful and affectionate, ANNA HOWE. 

THURSDAY MORN. 5. 

I have written all night. [Excuse indifferent writing; my crow-quillsare worn to the stumps, and I must get a new supply. ]

***

These ladies always write with crow-quills, Jack. 

If thou art capable of taking in all my providences, in this letter, thouwilt admire my sagacity and contrivance almost as much as I do myself. Thou seest, that Miss Lardner, Mrs. Sinclair, Tomlinson, Mrs. Fretchville, Mennell, are all mentioned in it. My first liberties withher person also. [Modesty, modesty, Belford, I doubt, is more confinedto time, place, and occasion, even by the most delicate minds, than theseminds would have it believed to be. ] And why all these taken notice ofby me from the genuine letter, but for fear some future letter from thevixen should escape my hands, in which she might refer to these names?And, if none of them were to have been found in this that is to pass forher's, I might be routed horse and foot, as Lord M. Would phrase it in alike case. 

Devilish hard (and yet I may thank myself) to be put to all this plagueand trouble:--And for what dost thou ask?--O Jack, for a triumph of morevalue to me beforehand than an imperial crown!--Don't ask me the value ofit a month hence. But what indeed is an imperial crown itself when a manis used to it?

Miss Howe might well be anxious about the letter she wrote. Her sweetfriend, from what I have let pass of her's, has reason to rejoice in thethought that it fell not into my hands. 

And now must all my contrivances be set at work, to intercept theexpected letter from Miss Howe: which is, as I suppose, to direct her toa place of safety, and out of my knowledge. Mrs. Townsend is, no doubt, in this case, to smuggle her off: I hope the villain, as I am sofrequently called between these two girls, will be able to manage thispoint. 

But what, perhaps, thou askest, if the lady should take it into her head, by the connivance of Miss Rawlins, to quit this house privately in thenight?

I have thought of this, Jack. Does not Will. Lie in the house? And isnot the widow Bevis my fast friend?

LETTER XXXI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SATURDAY, SIX O'CLOCK, JUNE 10. 

The lady gave Will. 's sweetheart a letter last night to be carried to thepost-house, as this morning, directed for Miss Howe, under cover toHickman. I dare say neither cover nor letter will be seen to have beenopened. The contents but eight lines--To own--'The receipt of herdouble-dated letter in safety; and referring to a longer letter, whichshe intends to write, when she shall have a quieter heart, and lesstrembling fingers. But mentions something to have happened [My detectingher she means] which has given her very great flutters, confusions, andapprehensions: but which she will wait the issue of [Some hopes for mehence, Jack!] before she gives her fresh perturbation or concern on heraccount. --She tells her how impatient she shall be for her next, ' &c. 

Now, Belford, I thought it would be but kind in me to save Miss Howe'sconcern on these alarming hints; since the curiosity of such a spiritmust have been prodigiously excited by them. Having therefore so good acopy to imitate, I wrote; and, taking out that of my beloved, put underthe same cover the following short billet; inscriptive and conclusiveparts of it in her own words. 

HAMPSTEAD, TUES. EVEN. 

MY EVER-DEAR MISS HOWE, A few lines only, till calmer spirits and quieter fingers be granted me, and till I can get over the shock which your intelligence has given me--to acquaint you--that your kind long letter of Wednesday, and, as I maysay, of Thursday morning, is come safe to my hands. On receipt of your'sby my messenger to you, I sent for it from Wilson's. There, thankHeaven! it lay. May that Heaven reward you for all your past, and forall your intended goodness to

Your for-ever obliged, CL. HARLOWE. 

***

I took great pains in writing this. It cannot, I hope, be suspected. Her hand is so very delicate. Yet her's is written less beautifully thanshe usually writes: and I hope Miss Howe will allow somewhat for hurry ofspirits, and unsteady fingers. 

My consideration for Miss Howe's ease of mind extended still farther thanto the instance I have mentioned. 

That this billet might be with her as soon as possible, (and before itcould have reached Hickman by the post, ) I dispatched it away by aservant of Mowbray's. Miss Howe, had there been any failure or delay, might, as thou wilt think, have communicated her anxieties to herfugitive friend; and she to me perhaps in a way I should not have beenpleased with. 

Once more wilt thou wonderingly question--All this pains for a singlegirl?

Yes, Jack--But is not this girl a CLARISSA?--And who knows, but kindfortune, as a reward for my perseverance, may toss me in her charmingfriend? Less likely things have come to pass, Belford. And to be sure Ishall have her, if I resolve upon it. 

LETTER XXXII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. EIGHT O'CLOCK, SAT. MORN. JUNE 10. 

I am come back from Mrs. Moore's, whither I went in order to attend mycharmer's commands. But no admittance--a very bad night. 

Doubtless she must be as much concerned that she has carried herresentments so very far, as I have reason to be that I made such poor useof the opportunity I had on Wednesday night. 

But now, Jack, for a brief review of my present situation; and a slighthint or two of my precautions. 

I have seen the women this morning, and find them half-right, half-doubting. 

Miss Rawlins's brother tells her, that she lives at Mrs. Moore's. 

Mrs. Moore can do nothing without Miss Rawlins. 

People who keep lodgings at public places expect to get by every one whocomes into their purlieus. Though not permitted to lodge there myself, Ihave engaged all the rooms she has to spare, to the very garrets; andthat, as I have told thee before, for a month certain, and at her ownprice, board included; my spouse's and all: but she must not at presentknow it. So I hope I have Mrs. Moore fast by the interest. 

This, devil-like, is suiting temptations to inclinations. 

I have always observed, and, I believe, I have hinted as much formerly, *that all dealers, though but for pins, may be taken in by customers forpins, sooner than by a direct bribe of ten times the value; especially ifpretenders to conscience: for the offer of a bribe would not only giveroom for suspicion, but would startle and alarm their scrupulousness;while a high price paid for what you buy, is but submitting to be cheatedin the method of the person makes a profession to get by. Have I notsaid that human nature is a rogue?**--And do not I know that it is?

* See Vol. III. Letter XXXIV. ** See Vol. III. Letter XXXV. And Vol. IV. Letter XXI. 

To give a higher instance, how many proud senators, in the year 1720, were induced, by presents or subscription of South-sea stock, tocontribute to a scheme big with national ruin; who yet would have spurnedthe man who should have presumed to offer them even twice the sum certainthat they had a chance to gain by the stock?--But to return to my reviewand to my precautions. 

Miss Rawlins fluctuates, as she hears the lady's story, or as she hearsmine. Somewhat of an infidel, I doubt, is this Miss Rawlins. I have notyet considered her foible. The next time I see her, I will takeparticular notice of all the moles and freckles in her mind; and theninfer and apply. 

The widow Bevis, as I have told thee, is all my own. 

My man Will. Lies in the house. My other new fellow attends upon me; andcannot therefore be quite stupid. 

Already is Will. Over head and ears in love with one of Mrs. Moore'smaids. He was struck with her the moment he set his eyes upon her. Araw country wench too. But all women, from the countess to the cook-maid, are put into high good humour with themselves when a man is takenwith them at first sight. Be they ever so plain [no woman can be ugly, Jack!] they'll find twenty good reasons, besides the great one (forsake's sake) by the help of the glass without (and perhaps in spite ofit) and conceit within, to justify the honest fellow's caption. 

'The rogue has saved 150�. In my service. '--More by 50 than I bid himsave. No doubt, he thinks he might have done so; though I believe notworth a groat. 'The best of masters I--passionate, indeed; but soonappeased. '

The wench is extremely kind to him already. The other maid is also verycivil to him. He has a husband for her in his eye. She cannot but say, that Mr. Andrew, my other servant [the girl is for fixing the person] isa very well spoken civil young man. 

'We common folks have our joys, and please your honour, says honestJoseph Leman, like as our betters have. '* And true says honest Joseph--did I prefer ease to difficulty, I should envy these low-born sinnerssome of their joys. 

* See Vol. III. Letter XLVII. 

But if Will. Had not made amorous pretensions to the wenches, we allknow, that servants, united in one common compare-note cause, areintimate the moment they see one another--great genealogists too; theyknow immediately the whole kin and kin's kin of each other, thoughdispersed over the three kingdoms, as well as the genealogies and kin'skin of those whom they serve. 

But my precautions end not here. 

O Jack, with such an invention, what occasion had I to carry my belovedto Mrs. Sinclair's?

My spouse may have farther occasion for the messengers whom shedispatched, one to Miss Howe, the other to Wilson's. With one of theseWill. Is already well-acquainted, as thou hast heard--to mingle liquoris to mingle souls with these fellows; with the other messenger he willsoon be acquainted, if he be not already. 

The Captain's servant has his uses and instructions assigned him. I havehinted at some of them already. * He also serves a most humane andconsiderate master. I love to make every body respected to my power. 

* See Letter XXIX. Of this volume. 

The post, general and penny, will be strictly watched likewise. 

Miss Howe's Collins is remembered to be described. Miss Howe's andHickman's liveries also. 

James Harlowe and Singleton are warned against. I am to be acquaintedwith any inquiry that shall happen to be made after my spouse, whether byher married or maiden name, before she shall be told of it--and this thatI may have it in my power to prevent mischief. 

I have ordered Mowbray and Tourville (and Belton, if his health permit)to take their quarters at Hampstead for a week, with their fellows toattend them. I spare thee for the present, because of thy privateconcerns. But hold thyself in cheerful readiness, however, as a mark ofthy allegiance. 

As to my spouse herself, has she not reason to be pleased with me forhaving permitted her to receive Miss Howe's letter from Wilson's? Aplain case, either that I am no deep plotter, or that I have no fartherviews than to make my peace with her for an offence so slight and soaccidental. 

Miss Howe says, though prefaced with an alas! that her charming friendloves me: she must therefore yearn after this reconciliation--prospectsso fair--if she showed me any compassion; seemed inclinable to spareme, and to make the most favourable construction: I cannot but say, thatit would be impossible not to show her some. But, to be insulted anddefied by a rebel in one's power, what prince can bear that?

But I must return to the scene of action. I must keep the women steady. I had no opportunity to talk to my worthy Mrs. Bevis in private. 

Tomlinson, a dog, not come yet!

LETTER XXXIII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FROM MY APARTMENTS AT MRS. MOORE'S. 

Miss Rawlins at her brothers; Mrs. Moore engaged in household matters;widow Bevis dressing; I have nothing to do but write. This cursedTomlinson not yet arrived!--Nothing to be done without him. 

I think he shall complain in pretty high language of the treatment he metwith yesterday. 'What are our affairs to him? He can have no view butto serve us. Cruel to send back to town, un-audienced, unseen, a man ofhis business and importance. He never stirs a-foot, but something ofconsequence depends upon his movements. A confounded thing to triflethus humoursomely with such a gentleman's moments!--These women think, that all the business of the world must stand still for their figaries[a good female word, Jack!] the greatest triflers in the creation, tofancy themselves the most important beings in it--marry come up! as Ihave heard goody Sorlings say to her servants, when she has rated at themwith mingled anger and disdain. '

After all, methinks I want those tostications [thou seest how women, andwomen's words, fill my mind] to be over, happily over, that I may sitdown quietly, and reflect upon the dangers I have passed through, and thetroubles I have undergone. I have a reflecting mind, as thou knowest;but the very word reflecting implies all got over. 

What briars and thorns does the wretch rush into (a scratched face andtattered garments the unavoidable consequence) who will needs be forstriking out a new path through overgrown underwood; quitting that beatenout for him by those who have travelled the same road before him!

***

A visit from the widow Bevis, in my own apartment. She tells me, that myspouse had thoughts last night, after I was gone to my lodgings, ofremoving from Mrs. Moore's. 

I almost wish she had attempted to do so. 

Miss Rawlins, it seems, who was applied to upon it, dissuaded her fromit. 

Mrs. Moore also, though she did not own that Will. Lay in the house, (orrather set up in it, courting, ) set before her the difficulties, which, in her opinion, she would have to get clear off, without my knowledge;assuring her, that she could be no where more safe than with her, tillshe had fixed whither to go. And the lady herself recollected, that ifshe went, she might miss the expected letter from her dear friend MissHowe! which, as she owned, was to direct her future steps. 

She must also surely have some curiosity to know what her uncle's friendhad to say to her from her uncle, contemptuously as she yesterday treateda man of his importance. Nor could she, I should think, be absolutelydetermined to put herself out of the way of receiving the visits of twoof the principal ladies of my family, and to break entirely with me inthe face of them all. --Besides, whither could she have gone?--Moreover, Miss Howe's letter coming (after her elopement) so safely to her hands, must surely put her into a more confiding temper with me, and with everyone else, though she would not immediately own it. 

But these good folks have so little charity!--Are such severe censurers!--Yet who is absolutely perfect?--It were to be wished, however, thatthey would be so modest as to doubt themselves sometimes: then would theyallow for others, as others (excellent as they imagine themselves to be)must for them. 

SATURDAY, ONE O'CLOCK. 

Tomlinson at last is come. Forced to ride five miles about (though Ishall impute his delay to great and important business) to avoid thesight of two or three impertinent rascals, who, little thinking whoseaffairs he was employed in, wanted to obtrude themselves upon him. Ithink I will make this fellow easy, if he behave to my liking in thisaffair. 

I sent up the moment he came. 

She desired to be excused receiving his visit till four this afternoon. 

Intolerable!--No consideration!--None at all in this sex, when theircursed humours are in the way!--Pay-day, pay-hour, rather, will come!--Oh! that it were to be the next!

The Captain is in a pet. Who can blame him? Even the women think a manof his consequence, and generously coming to serve us, hardly used. Would to heaven she had attempted to get off last night! The women notmy enemies, who knows but the husband's exerted authority might have metwith such connivance, as might have concluded either in carrying her backto her former lodgings, or in consummation at Mrs. Moore's, in spite ofexclamations, fits, and the rest of the female obsecrations?

My beloved has not appeared to any body this day, except to Mrs. Moore. Is, it seems, extremely low: unfit for the interesting conversation thatis to be held in the afternoon. Longs to hear from her dear friend MissHowe--yet cannot expect a letter for a day or two. Has a bad opinion ofall mankind. --No wonder!--Excellent creature as she is! with such afather, such uncles, such a brother, as she has!

How does she look?

Better than could be expected from yesterday's fatigue, and last night'sill rest. 

These tender doves know not, till put to it, what they can bear;especially when engaged in love affairs; and their attention whollyengrossed. But the sex love busy scenes. Still life is their aversion. A woman will create a storm, rather than be without one. So that theycan preside in the whirlwind, and direct it, they are happy. --But mybeloved's misfortune is, that she must live in tumult; yet neither raisethem herself, nor be able to controul them. 

LETTER XXXIV

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SAT NIGHT, JUNE 10. 

What will be the issue of all my plots and contrivances, devil take me ifI am able to divine. But I will not, as Lord M. Would say, forestall myown market. 

At four, the appointed hour, I sent up, to desire admittance in theCaptain's name and my own. 

She would wait upon the Captain presently; [not upon me!] and in theparlour, if it were not engaged. 

The dining-room being mine, perhaps that was the reason of her naming theparlour--mighty nice again, if so! No good sign for me, thought I, thisstiff punctilio. 

In the parlour, with me and the Captain, were Mrs. Moore, Miss Rawlins, and Mrs. Bevis. 

The women said, they would withdraw when the lady came down. 

Lovel. Not, except she chooses you should, Ladies. --People who are somuch above-board as I am, need not make secrets of any of their affairs. Besides, you three ladies are now acquainted with all our concerns. 

Capt. I have some things to say to your lady, that perhaps she wouldnot herself choose that any body should hear; not even you, Mr. Lovelace, as you and her family are not upon such a good foot of understanding aswere to be wished. 

Lovel. Well, well, Captain, I must submit. Give us a sign to withdraw, and we will withdraw. 

It was better that the exclusion of the women should come from him, thanfrom me. 

Capt. I will bow, and wave my hand, thus--when I wish to be alone withthe lady. Her uncle dotes upon her. I hope, Mr. Lovelace, you will notmake a reconciliation more difficult, for the earnestness which my dearfriend shows to bring it to bear. But indeed I must tell you, as I toldyou more than once before, that I am afraid you have made lighter of theoccasion of this misunderstanding to me, than it ought to have been made. 

Lovel. I hope, Captain Tomlinson, you do not question my veracity!

Capt. I beg your pardon, Mr. Lovelace--but those things which we menmay think lightly of, may not be light to a woman of delicacy. --And then, if you have bound yourself by a vow, you ought--

Miss Rawlins bridling, her lips closed, (but her mouth stretched to asmile of approbation, the longer for not buttoning, ) tacitly showedherself pleased with the Captain for his delicacy. 

Mrs. Moore could speak--Very true, however, was all she said, with amotion of her head that expressed the bow-approbatory. 

For my part, said the jolly widow, staring with eyes as big as eggs, Iknow what I know. --But man and wife are man and wife; or they are notman and wife. --I have no notion of standing upon such niceties. 

But here she comes! cried one, hearing her chamber-door open--Here shecomes! another, hearing it shut after her--And down dropt the angel amongus. 

We all stood up, bowing and courtesying, and could not help it; for sheentered with such an air as commanded all our reverence. Yet the Captainlooked plaguy grave. 

Cl. Pray keep your seats, Ladies--Pray do not go, [for they made offersto withdraw; yet Miss Rawlins would have burst had she been suffered toretire. ] Before this time you have all heard my story, I make no doubt--pray keep your seats--at least all Mr. Lovelace's. 

A very saucy and whimsical beginning, thought I. 

Captain Tomlinson, your servant, addressing herself to him withinimitable dignity. I hope you did not take amiss my declining yourvisit yesterday. I was really incapable of talking upon any subject thatrequired attention. 

Capt. I am glad to see you better now, Madam. I hope I do. 

Cl. Indeed I am not well. I would not have excused myself fromattending you some hours ago, but in hopes I should have been better. Ibeg your pardon, Sir, for the trouble I have given you; and shall therather expect it, as this day will, I hope, conclude it all. 

Thus set; thus determined; thought I, --yet to have slept upon it!--But, as what she said was capable of a good, as well as a bad, construction, Iwould not put an unfavourable one upon it. 

Lovel. The Captain was sorry, my dear, he did not offer his attendancethe moment he arrived yesterday. He was afraid that you took it amissthat he did not. 

Cl. Perhaps I thought that my uncle's friend might have wished to seeme as soon as he came, [how we stared!]--But, Sir, [to me, ] it might beconvenient to you to detain him. 

The devil, thought I!--So there really was resentment as well as head-ache, as my good friend Mrs. Bevis observed, in her refusing to see thehonest gentleman. 

Capt. You would detain me, Mr. Lovelace--I was for paying my respectsto the lady the moment I came--

Cl. Well, Sir, [interrupting him, ] to wave this; for I would not bethought captious--if you have not suffered inconvenience, in beingobliged to come again, I shall be easy. 

Capt. [Half disconcerted. ] A little inconvenience, I can't say but Ihave suffered. I have, indeed, too many affairs upon my hands; but thedesire I have to serve you and Mr. Lovelace, as well as to oblige my dearfriend, your uncle Harlowe, make great inconveniencies but small ones. 

Cl. You are very obliging, Sir. --Here is a great alteration since youparted with us last. 

Capt. A great one indeed, Madam! I was very much surprised at it, onThursday evening, when Mr. Lovelace conducted me to your lodgings, wherewe hoped to find you. 

Cl. Have you any thing to say to me, Sir, from my uncle himself, thatrequires my private ear!--Don't go, Ladies, [for the women stood up, andoffered to withdraw, ]--if Mr. Lovelace stays, I am sure you may. 

I frowned--I bit my lip--I looked at the women--and shook my head. 

Capt. I have nothing to offer, but what Mr. Lovelace is a party to, andmay hear, except one private word or two, which may be postponed to thelast. 

Cl. Pray, Ladies, keep your seats. --Things are altered, Sir, since Isaw you. You can mention nothing that relates to me now, to which thatgentleman can be a party. 

Capt. You surprise me, Madam! I am sorry to hear this!--Sorry for youruncle's sake!--Sorry for your sake!--Sorry for Mr. Lovelace's sake!--Andyet I am sure he must have given greater occasion than he has mentionedto me, or--

Lovel. Indeed, Captain, --indeed, Ladies, I have told you great part ofmy story!--And what I told you of my offence was the truth:--what Iconcealed of my story was only what I apprehended would, if known, causethis dear creature to be thought more censorious than charitable. 

Cl. Well, well, Sir, say what you please. Make me as black as youplease--make yourself as white as you can--I am not now in your power:that consideration will comfort me for all. 

Capt. God forbid that I should offer to plead in behalf of a crime, that a woman of virtue and honour cannot forgive! But surely, surely, Madam, this is going too far. 

Cl. Do not blame me, Captain Tomlinson. I have a good opinion of you, as my uncle's friend; but if you are Mr. Lovelace's friend, that isanother thing; for my interest and Mr. Lovelace's must now be for everseparated. 

Capt. One word with you, Madam, if you please--offering to retire. 

Cl. You may say all that you please to say before these gentlewomen. --Mr. Lovelace may have secrets--I have none:--you seem to think me faulty:I should be glad that all the world knew my heart. Let my enemies sit injudgment upon my actions; fairly scanned, I fear not the result; let themeven ask me my most secret thoughts, and, whether they make for me, oragainst me, I will reveal them. 

Capt. Noble Lady! who can say as you say?

The women held up their hands and eyes; each, as if she had said, --Not I. 

No disorder here! said Miss Rawlins:--but, (judging by her own heart, ) aconfounded deal of improbability, I believe she thought. 

Finely said, to be sure, said the widow Bevis, shrugging her shoulders. 

Mrs. Moore sighed. 

Jack Belford, thought I, knows all mine; and in this I am more ingenuousthan any of the three, and a fit match for this paragon. 

Cl. How Mr. Lovelace has found me out here I cannot tell: but such meandevices, such artful, such worse than Waltham disguises put on, toobtrude himself into my company; such bold, such shocking untruths--

Capt. The favour of but one word, Madam, in private--

Cl. In order to support a right which he has not over me!--O Sir!--OCaptain Tomlinson!--I think I have reason to say, that the man, (there hestands!) is capable of any vileness!--

The women looked upon one another, and upon me, by turns, to see how Ibore it. I had such dartings in my head at the instant, that I thought Ishould have gone distracted. My brain seemed on fire. What would I havegiven to have had her alone with me!--I traversed the room; my clenchedfist to my forehead. O that I had any body here, thought I, that, Hercules-lie, when flaming in the tortures of Dejanira's poisoned shirt, I could tear in pieces!

Capt. Dear Lady! see you not how the poor gentleman--Lord, how have Iimposed upon your uncle, at this rate! How happy did I tell him I sawyou! How happy I was sure you would be in each other!

Cl. O Sir, you don't know how many premeditated offences I had forgivenwhen I saw you last, before I could appear to you what I hoped then Imight for the future be!--But now you may tell my uncle, if you please, that I cannot hope for his mediation. Tell him, that my guilt, in givingthis man an opportunity to spirit me away from my tried, my experienced, my natural friends, (harshly as they treated me, ) stares me every daymore and more in the face; and still the more, as my fate seems to bedrawing to a crisis, according to the malediction of my offended father!

And then she burst into tears, which even affected that dog, who, broughtto abet me, was himself all Belforded over. 

The women, so used to cry without grief, as they are to laugh withoutreason, by mere force of example, [confound their promptitudes;] mustneeds pull out their handkerchiefs. The less wonder, however, as Imyself, between confusion, surprise, and concern, could hardly stand it. 

What's a tender heart good for?--Who can be happy that has a feelingheart?--And yet, thou'lt say, that he who has it not, must be a tiger, and no man. 

Capt. Let me beg the favour of one word with you, Madam, in private;and that on my own account. 

The women hereupon offered to retire. She insisted that, if they went, I should not stay. 

Capt. Sir, bowing to me, shall I beg--

I hope, thought I, that I may trust this solemn dog, instructed as he is. She does not doubt him. I'll stay out no longer than to give her time tospend her first fire. 

I then passively withdrew with the women. --But with such a bow to mygoddess, that it won for me every heart but that I wanted most to win;for the haughty maid bent not her knee in return. 

The conversation between the Captain and the lady, when we were retired, was to the following effect:--They both talked loud enough for me to hearthem--the lady from anger, the Captain with design; and thou mayest besure there was no listener but myself. What I was imperfect in wassupplied afterwards; for I had my vellum-leaved book to note all down. If she had known this, perhaps she would have been more sparing of herinvectives--and but perhaps neither. 

He told her that as her brother was absolutely resolved to see her; andas he himself, in compliance with her uncle's expedient, had reported hermarriage; and as that report had reached the ears of Lord M. , Lady Betty, and the rest of my relations; and as he had been obliged, in consequenceof his first report, to vouch it; and as her brother might find out whereshe was, and apply to the women here for a confirmation or refutation ofthe marriage; he had thought himself obliged to countenance the reportbefore the women. That this had embarrassed him not a little, as hewould not for the world that she should have cause to think him capableof prevarication, contrivance, or double dealing; and that this made himdesirous of a private conversation with her. 

It was true, she said, she had given her consent to such an expedient, believing it was her uncle's; and little thinking that it would lead toso many errors. Yet she might have known that one error is frequentlythe parent of many. Mr. Lovelace had made her sensible of the truth ofthat observation, on more occasions than one; and it was an observationthat he, the Captain, had made, in one of the letters that was shown heryesterday. *

* See Letter XXIV. 

He hoped that she had no mistrust of him: that she had no doubt of hishonour. If, Madam, you suspect me--if you think me capable--what a man!the Lord be merciful to me!--What a man must you think me!

I hope, Sir, there cannot be a man in the world who could deserve to besuspected in such a case as this. I do not suspect you. If it werepossible there could be one such a man, I am sure, Captain Tomlinson, afather of children, a man in years, of sense and experience, cannot bethat man. 

He told me, that just then, he thought he felt a sudden flash from hereye, an eye-beam as he called it, dart through his shivering reins; andhe could not help trembling. 

The dog's conscience, Jack!--Nothing else!--I have felt half a dozen suchflashes, such eye-beams, in as many different conversations with thissoul-piercing beauty. 

Her uncle, she must own, was not accustomed to think of such expedients;but she had reconciled this to herself, as the case was unhappilyuncommon; and by the regard he had for her honour. 

This set the puppy's heart at ease, and gave him more courage. 

She asked him if he thought Lady Betty and Miss Montague intended her avisit?

He had no doubt but they did. 

And does he imagine, said she, that I could be brought to countenance tothem the report you have given out?

[I had hoped to bring her to this, Jack, or she had seen their letters. But I had told the Captain that I believed I must give up thisexpectation. ]

No. --He believed that I had not such a thought. He was pretty sure, thatI intended, when I saw them, to tell them, (as in confidence, ) the nakedtruth. 

He then told her that her uncle had already made some steps towards ageneral reconciliation. The moment, Madam, that he knows you are reallymarried, he will enter into confidence with your father upon it; havingactually expressed to your mother his desire to be reconciled to you. 

And what, Sir, said my mother? What said my dear mother?

With great emotion she asked this question; holding out her sweet face, as the Captain described her, with the most earnest attention, as if shewould shorten the way which his words were to have to her heart. 

Your mother, Madam, burst into tears upon it: and your uncle was sopenetrated by her tenderness, that he could not proceed with the subject. But he intends to enter upon it with her in form, as soon as he hearsthat the ceremony is over. 

By the tone of her voice she wept. The dear creature, thought I, beginsto relent!--And I grudged the dog his eloquence. I could hardly bear thethought that any man breathing should have the power which I had lost, ofpersuading this high-souled woman, though in my own favour. And wouldestthou think it? this reflection gave me more uneasiness at the moment thanI felt from her reproaches, violent as they were; or than I had pleasurein her supposed relenting: for there is beauty in every thing she saysand does!--Beauty in her passion!--Beauty in her tears!--Had the Captainbeen a young fellow, and of rank and fortune, his throat would have beenin danger; and I should have thought very hardly of her. 

O Captain Tomlinson, said she, you know not what I have suffered by thisman's strange ways! He had, as I was not ashamed to tell him yesterday, a plain path before him. He at first betrayed me into his power--butwhen I was in it--There she stopt. --Then resuming--O Sir, you know notwhat a strange man he has been!--An unpolite, a rough-manner'd man! Indisgrace of his birth, and education, and knowledge, an unpolite man!--And so acting, as if his worldly and personal advantages set him abovethose graces which distinguish a gentleman. 

The first woman that ever said, or that ever thought so of me, that's mycomfort, thought I!--But this, (spoken of to her uncle's friend, behindmy back, ) helps to heap up thy already-too-full measure, dearest!--It isdown in my vellum-book. 

Cl. When I look back on his whole behaviour to a poor young creature, (for I am but a very young creature, ) I cannot acquit him either of greatfolly or of deep design. And, last Wednesday--There she stopt; and Isuppose turned away her face. 

I wonder she was not ashamed to hint at what she thought so shameful; andthat to a man, and alone with him. 

Capt. Far be it from me, Madam, to offer to enter too closely into sotender a subject. Mr. Lovelace owns, that you have reason to bedispleased with him. But he so solemnly clears himself of premeditatedoffence--

Cl. He cannot clear himself, Captain Tomlinson. The people of thehouse must be very vile, as well as he. I am convinced that there was awicked confederacy--but no more upon such a subject. 

Capt. Only one word more, Madam. --He tells me, that you promised topardon him. He tells me--

He knew, interrupted she, that he deserved not pardon, or he had notextorted the promise from me. Nor had I given it to him, but to shieldmyself from the vilest outrage--

Capt. I could wish, Madam, inexcusable as his behaviour has been, sincehe has something to plead in the reliance he made upon your promise, that, for the sake of appearances to the world, and to avoid themischiefs that may follow if you absolutely break with him, you couldprevail upon your naturally-generous mind to lay an obligation upon himby your forgiveness. 

She was silent. 

Capt. Your father and mother, Madam, deplore a daughter lost to them, whom your generosity to Mr. Lovelace may restore: do not put it to thepossible chance, that they may have cause to deplore a double loss; thelosing of a son, as well as a daughter, who, by his own violence, whichyou may perhaps prevent, may be for ever lost to them, and to the wholefamily. 

She paused--she wept--she owned that she felt the force of this argument. 

I will be the making of this fellow, thought I. 

Capt. Permit me, Madam, to tell you, that I do not think it would bedifficult to prevail upon your uncle, if you insist upon it, to come upprivately to town, and to give you with his own hand to Mr. Lovelace--except, indeed, your present misunderstanding were to come to his ears. Besides, Madam, your brother, it is likely, may at this very time be intown; and he is resolved to find you out--

Cl. Why, Sir, should I be so much afraid of my brother? My brother hasinjured me, not I him. Will my brother offer to me what Mr. Lovelace hasoffered?--Wicked, ungrateful man! to insult a friendless, unprotectedcreature, made friendless by himself!--I cannot, cannot think of him inthe light I once thought of him. What, Sir, to put myself into the powerof a wretch, who has acted by me with so much vile premeditation!--Whoshall pity, who shall excuse me, if I do, were I to suffer ever so muchfrom him?--No, Sir. --Let Mr. Lovelace leave me--let my brother find me. I am not such a poor creature as to be afraid to face the brother who hasinjured me. 

Capt. Were you and your brother to meet only to confer together, toexpostulate, to clear up difficulties, it were another thing. But what, Madam, can you think will be the issue of an interview, (Mr. Solmes withhim, ) when he finds you unmarried, and resolved never to have Mr. Lovelace; supposing Mr. Lovelace were not to interfere, which cannot beimagined?

Cl. Well, Sir, I can only say, I am a very unhappy creature!--I mustresign to the will of Providence, and be patient under evils, which thatwill not permit me to shun. But I have taken my measures. Mr. Lovelacecan never make me happy, nor I him. I wait here only for a letter fromMiss Howe--that must determine me--

Determine you as to Mr. Lovelace, Madam? interrupted the Captain. 

Cl. I am already determined as to him. 

Capt. If it be not in his favour, I have done. I cannot use strongerarguments than I have used, and it would be impertinent to repeat them. If you cannot forgive his offence, I am sure it must have been muchgreater than he has owned to me. If you are absolutely determined, bepleased to let me know what I shall say to your uncle? You were pleasedto tell me, that this day would put an end to what you called my trouble:I should not have thought it any, could I have been an humble mean ofreconciling persons of worth and honour to each other. 

Here I entered with a solemn air. 

Lovel. Captain Tomlinson, I have heard a part of what has passedbetween you and this unforgiving (however otherwise excellent) lady. Iam cut to the heart to find the dear creature so determined. I couldnot have believed it possible, with such prospects, that I had so littleshare in her esteem. Nevertheless I must do myself justice with regardto the offence I was so unhappy as to give, since I find you are readyto think it much greater than it really was. 

Cl. I hear not, Sir, your recapitulations. I am, and ought to be, thesole judge of insults offered to my person. I enter not into discussionwith you, nor hear you on the shocking subject. And was going. 

I put myself between her and the door--You may hear all I have to say, Madam. My fault is not of such a nature, but that you may. I will be ajust accuser of myself; and will not wound your ears. 

I then protested that the fire was a real fire. [So it was. ] Idisclaimed [less truly] premeditation. I owned that I was hurried on bythe violence of a youthful passion, and by a sudden impulse, which fewother persons, in the like situation, would have been able to check: thatI withdrew, at her command and entreaty, on the promise of pardon, without having offered the least indecency, or any freedom, that wouldnot have been forgiven by persons of delicacy, surprised in an attitudeso charming--her terror, on the alarm of fire, calling for a soothingbehaviour, and personal tenderness, she being ready to fall into fits: myhoped-for happy day so near, that I might be presumed to be looked uponas a betrothed lover--and that this excuse might be pleaded even for thewomen of the house, that they, thinking us actually married, mightsuppose themselves to be the less concerned to interfere on so tender anoccasion. --[There, Jack, was a bold insinuation on behalf of the women!]

High indignation filled her disdainful eye, eye-beam after eye-beamflashing at me. Every feature of her sweet face had soul in it. Yet shespoke not. Perhaps, Jack, she had a thought, that this plea for thewomen accounted for my contrivance to have her pass to them as married, when I first carried her thither. 

Capt. Indeed, Sir, I must say that you did not well to add to theapprehensions of a lady so much terrified before. 

The dear creature offered to go by me. I set my back against the door, and besought her to stay a few moments. I had not said thus much, mydearest creature, but for your sake, as well as for my own, that CaptainTomlinson should not think I had been viler than I was. Nor will I sayone word more on the subject, after I have appealed to your own heart, whether it was not necessary that I should say so much; and to theCaptain, whether otherwise he would not have gone away with a much worseopinion of me, if he had judged of my offence by the violence of yourresentment. 

Capt. Indeed I should. I own I should. And I am very glad, Mr. Lovelace, that you are able to defend yourself thus far. 

Cl. That cause must be well tried, where the offender takes his seatupon the same bench with the judge. --I submit not mine to men--nor, giveme leave to say, to you, Captain Tomlinson, though I am willing to have agood opinion of you. Had not the man been assured that he had influencedyou in his favour, he would not have brought you up to Hampstead. 

Capt. That I am influenced, as you call it, Madam, is for the sake ofyour uncle, and for your own sake, more (I will say to Mr. Lovelace'sface) than for his. What can I have in view but peace andreconciliation? I have, from the first, blamed, and I now, again, blameMr. Lovelace, for adding distress to distress, and terror to terror; thelady, as you acknowledge, Sir, [looking valiantly, ] ready before to fallinto fits. 

Lovel. Let me own to you, Captain Tomlinson, that I have been a veryfaulty, a very foolish man; and, if this dear creature ever honoured mewith her love, an ungrateful one. But I have had too much reason todoubt it. And this is now a flagrant proof that she never had the valuefor me which my proud heart wished for; that, with such prospects beforeus; a day so near; settlements approved and drawn; her uncle meditating ageneral reconciliation which, for her sake, not my own, I was desirous togive into; she can, for an offence so really slight, on an occasion sotruly accidental, renounce me for ever; and, with me, all hopes of thatreconciliation in the way her uncle had put it in, and she had acquiescedwith; and risque all consequences, fatal ones as they may too possiblybe. --By my soul, Captain Tomlinson, the dear creature must have hated meall the time she was intending to honour me with her hand. And now shemust resolve to abandon me, as far as I know, with a preference in herheart of the most odious of men--in favour of that Solmes, who, as youtell me, accompanies her brother: and with what hopes, with what view, accompanies him!--How can I bear to think of this?--

Cl. It is fit, Sir, that you should judge of my regard for you by yourown conscienceness of demerit. Yet you know, or you would not have daredto behave to me as sometimes you did, that you had more of it than youdeserved. 

She walked from us; and then returning, Captain Tomlinson, said she, Iwill own to you, that I was not capable of resolving to give my hand, and--nothing but my hand. Had I not given a flagrant proof of this to theonce most indulgent of parents? which has brought me into a distress, which this man has heightened, when he ought, in gratitude and honour, tohave endeavoured to render it supportable. I had even a bias, Sir, inhis favour, I scruple not to own it. Long (much too long!) bore I withhis unaccountable ways, attributing his errors to unmeaning gaiety, andto a want of knowing what true delicacy, and true generosity, requiredfrom a heart susceptible of grateful impressions to one involved by hismeans in unhappy circumstances. 

It is now wickedness in him (a wickedness which discredits all hisprofessions) to say, that this last cruel and ungrateful insult was nota premeditated one--But what need I say more of this insult, when it wasof such a nature, and that it has changed that bias in his favour, andmake me choose to forego all the inviting prospects he talks of, and torun all hazards, to free myself from his power?

O my dearest creature! how happy for us both, had I been able to discoverthat bias, as you condescend to call it, through such reserves as mannever encountered with!

He did discover it, Capt. Tomlinson. He brought me, more than once, toown it; the more needlessly brought me to own it, as I dare say his ownvanity gave him no cause to doubt it; and as I had apparently no othermotive in not being forward to own it, than my too-justly-foundedapprehensions of his want of generosity. In a word, Captain Tomlinson, (and now, that I am determined upon my measures, I the less scruple tosay, ) I should have despised myself, had I found myself capable ofaffectation or tyranny to the man I intended to marry. I have alwaysblamed the dearest friend I have in the world for a fault of this nature. In a word--

Lovel. And had my angel really and indeed the favour for me she ispleased to own?--Dearest creature, forgive me. Restore me to your goodopinion. Surely I have not sinned beyond forgiveness. You say that Iextorted from you the promise you made me. But I could not have presumedto make that promise the condition of my obedience, had I not thoughtthere was room to expect forgiveness. Permit, I beseech you, theprospects to take place, that were opening so agreeably before us. Iwill go to town, and bring the license. All difficulties to theobtaining of it are surmounted. Captain Tomlinson shall be witness tothe deeds. He will be present at the ceremony on the part of your uncle. Indeed he gave me hope that your uncle himself--

Capt. I did, Mr. Lovelace: and I will tell you my grounds for the hopeI gave. I promised to my dear friend, (your uncle, Madam, ) that heshould give out that he would take a turn with me to my little farm-house, as I call it, near Northampton, for a week or so. --Poor gentleman!he has of late been very little abroad!--Too visibly declining!--Changeof air, it might be given out, was good for him. --But I see, Madam, thatthis is too tender a subject--

The dear creature wept. She knew how to apply as meant the Captain'shint to the occasion of her uncle's declining state of health. 

Capt. We might indeed, I told him, set out in that road, but turn shortto town in my chariot; and he might see the ceremony performed with hisown eyes, and be the desired father, as well as the beloved uncle. 

She turned from us, and wiped her eyes. 

Capt. And, really, there seem now to be but two objections to this, asMr. Harlowe discouraged not the proposal--The one, the unhappymisunderstanding between you; which I would not by any means he shouldknow; since then he might be apt to give weight to Mr. James Harlowe'sunjust surmises. --The other, that it would necessarily occasion somedelay to the ceremony; which certainly may be performed in a day or two--if--

And then he reverently bowed to my goddess. --Charming fellow!--But oftendid I curse my stars, for making me so much obliged to his adroitness. 

She was going to speak; but, not liking the turn of her countenance(although, as I thought, its severity and indignation seemed a littleabated) I said, and had like to have blown myself up by it--one expedientI have just thought of--

Cl. None of your expedients, Mr. Lovelace!--I abhor your expedients, your inventions--I have had too many of them. 

Lovel. See, Capt. Tomlinson!--See, Sir!--O how we expose ourselves toyou!--Little did you think, I dare say, that we have lived in such acontinued misunderstanding together!--But you will make the best of itall. We may yet be happy. Oh! that I could have been assured that thisdear creature loved me with the hundredth part of the love I have forher!--Our diffidences have been mutual. I presume to say that she hastoo much punctilio: I am afraid that I have too little. Hence ourdifficulties. But I have a heart, Captain Tomlinson, a heart, that bidsme hope for her love, because it is resolved to deserve it as much as mancan deserve it. 

Capt. I am indeed surprised at what I have seen and heard. I defendnot Mr. Lovelace, Madam, in the offence he has given you--as a father ofdaughters myself, I cannot defend him; though his fault seems to belighter than I had apprehended--but in my conscience, Madam, I think youcarry your resentment too high. 

Cl. Too high, Sir!--Too high to the man that might have been happy ifhe would! Too high to the man that has held my soul in suspense anhundred times, since (by artifice and deceit) he obtained a power overme!--Say, Lovelace, thyself say, art thou not the very Lovelace, who byinsulting me, hast wronged thine own hopes?--The wretch that appeared invile disguises, personating an old, lame creature, seeking for lodgingsfor thy sick wife?--Telling the gentlewomen here stories all of thine owninvention; and asserting to them an husband's right over me, which thouhast not!--And is it [turning to the Captain] to be expected, that Ishould give credit to the protestations of such a man?

Lovel. Treat me, my dearest creature, as you please, I will bear it:and yet your scorn and your violence have fixed daggers in my heart--Butwas it possible, without those disguises, to come at your speech?--Andcould I lose you, if study, if invention, would put it in my power toarrest your anger, and give me hope to engage you to confirm to me thepromised pardon? The address I made to you before the women, as if themarriage-ceremony had passed, was in consequence of what your uncle hadadvised, and what you had acquiesced with; and the rather made, as yourbrother, and Singleton, and Solmes, were resolved to find out whetherwhat was reported of your marriage were true or not, that they might taketheir measures accordingly; and in hopes to prevent that mischief, whichI have been but too studious to prevent, since this tameness has butinvited insolence from your brother and his confederates. 

Cl. O thou strange wretch, how thou talkest!--But, Captain Tomlinson, give me leave to say, that, were I inclined to enter farther upon thissubject, I would appeal to Miss Rawlins's judgment (whom else have I toappeal to?) She seems to be a person of prudence and honour; but not toany man's judgment, whether I carry my resentment beyond fit bounds, whenI resolve--

Capt. Forgive, Madam, the interruption--but I think there can be noreason for this. You ought, as you said, to be the sole judge ofindignities offered you. The gentlewomen here are strangers to you. Youwill perhaps stay but a little while among them. If you lay the state ofyour case before any of them, and your brother come to inquire of them, your uncle's intended mediation will be discovered, and rendered abortive--I shall appear in a light that I never appeared in, in my life--for thesewomen may not think themselves obliged to keep the secret. 

Charming fellow!

Cl. O what difficulties has one fatal step involved me in--but there isno necessity for such an appeal to any body. I am resolved on mymeasures. 

Capt. Absolutely resolved, Madam?

Cl. I am. 

Capt. What shall I say to your uncle Harlowe, Madam?--Poor gentleman!how will he be surprised!--You see, Mr. Lovelace--you see, Sir, --turningto me with a flourishing hand--but you may thank yourself--and admirablystalked he from us. 

True, by my soul, thought I. I traversed the room, and bit myunpersuasive lips, now upper, now under, for vexation. 

He made a profound reverence to her--and went to the window, where layhis hat and whip; and, taking them up, opened the door. Child, said he, to some body he saw, pray order my servant to bring my horse to thedoor--

Lovel. You won't go, Sir--I hope you won't!--I am the unhappiest man inthe world!--You won't go--yet, alas!--But you won't go, Sir!--there maybe yet hopes that Lady Betty may have some weight--

Capt. Dear Mr. Lovelace! and may not my worthy friend, and affectionateuncle, hope for some influence upon his daughter-niece?--But I beg pardon--a letter will always find me disposed to serve the lady, and that aswell for her sake as for the sake of my dear friend. 

She had thrown herself into her chair: her eyes cast down: she wasmotionless, as in a profound study. 

The Captain bowed to her again: but met with no return to his bow. Mr. Lovelace, said he, (with an air of equality and independence, ) I amyour's. 

Still the dear unaccountable sat as immovable as a statue; stirringneither hand, foot, head, nor eye--I never before saw any one in soprofound a reverie in so waking a dream. 

He passed by her to go out at the door she sat near, though the passageby the other door was his direct way; and bowed again. She moved not. I will not disturb the lady in her meditations, Sir. --Adieu, Mr. Lovelace--no farther, I beseech you. 

She started, sighing--Are you going, Sir?

Capt. I am, Madam. I could have been glad to do you service; but I seeit is not in my power. 

She stood up, holding out one hand, with inimitable dignity and sweetness--I am sorry you are going, Sir!--can't help it--I have no friend toadvise with--Mr. Lovelace has the art (or good fortune, perhaps I shouldcall it) to make himself many. --Well, Sir--if you will go, I can't helpit. 

Capt. I will not go, Madam; his eyes twinkling. [Again seized with afit of humanity!] I will not go, if my longer stay can do you eitherservice or pleasure. What, Sir, [turning to me, ] what, Mr. Lovelace, wasyour expedient;--perhaps something may be offered, Madam--

She sighed, and was silent. 

REVENGE, invoked I to myself, keep thy throne in my heart. If theusurper LOVE once more drive thee from it, thou wilt never again regainpossession!

Lovel. What I had thought of, what I had intended to propose, [and Isighed, ] was this, that the dear creature, if she will not forgive me, asshe promised, will suspend the displeasure she has conceived against me, till Lady Betty arrives. --That lady may be the mediatrix between us. This dear creature may put herself into her protection, and accompany herdown to her seat in Oxfordshire. It is one of her Ladyship's purposes toprevail on her supposed new niece to go down with her. It may pass toevery one but to Lady Betty, and to you, Captain Tomlinson, and to yourfriend Mr. Harlowe (as he desires) that we have been some time married:and her being with my relations will amount to a proof to James Harlowethat we are; and our nuptials may be privately, and at this belovedcreature's pleasure, solemnized; and your report, Captain, authenticated. 

Capt. Upon my honour, Madam, clapping his hand upon his breast, acharming expedient!--This will answer every end. 

She mused--she was greatly perplexed--at last, God direct me! said she: Iknow not what to do--a young unfriended creature! Whom can I have toadvise with?--Let me retire, if I can retire. 

She withdrew with slow and trembling feet, and went up to her chamber. 

For Heaven's sake, said the penetrated varlet [his hands lifted up]; forHeaven's sake, take compassion upon this admirable woman!--I cannotproceed--she deserves all things--

Softly!--d--n the fellow!--the women are coming in. 

He sobbed up his grief--turned about--hemm'd up a more manly accent--Wipethy cursed eyes--He did. The sunshine took place on one cheek, andspread slowly to the other, and the fellow had his whole face again. 

The women all three came in, led by that ever-curious Miss Rawlins. Itold them, that the lady was gone up to consider of every thing: that wehad hopes of her. And such a representation we made of all that hadpassed, as brought either tacit or declared blame upon the fair perversefor hardness of heart and over-delicacy. 

The widow Bevis, in particular, put out one lip, tossed up her head, wrinkled her forehead, and made such motions with her now lifted-up, nowcast-down eyes, as showed that she thought there was a great deal ofperverseness and affectation in the lady. Now-and-then she changed hercensuring looks to looks of pity of me--but (as she said) she loved notto aggravate!--A poor business, God help's! shrugging up her shoulders, to make such a rout about! And then her eyes laughed heartily--Indulgence was a good thing! Love was a good thing!--but too much wastoo much!

Miss Rawlins, however, declared, after she had called the widow Bevis, with a prudish simper, a comical gentlewoman! that there must besomething in our story, which she could not fathom; and went from us intoa corner, and sat down, seemingly vexed that she could not. 

LETTER XXXV

MR. LOVELACE[IN CONTINUATION. ]

The lady staid longer above than we wished; and I hoping that (lady-like)she only waited for an invitation to return to us, desired the widowBevis, in the Captain's name, (who wanted to go to town, ) to request thefavour of her company. 

I cared not to send up either Miss Rawlins or Mrs. Moore on the errand, lest my beloved should be in a communicative disposition; especially asshe had hinted at an appeal to Miss Rawlins; who, besides, has such anunbounded curiosity. 

Mrs. Bevis presently returned with an answer (winking and pinking at me)that the lady would follow her down. 

Miss Rawlins could not but offer to retire, as the others did. Her eyes, however, intimated that she had rather stay. But they not being answeredas she seemed to wish, she went with the rest, but with slower feet; andhad hardly left the parlour, when the lady entered it by the other door;a melancholy dignity in her person and air. 

She sat down. Pray, Mr. Tomlinson, be seated. 

He took his chair over against her. I stood behind her's that I mightgive him agreed-upon signals, should there be occasion for them. 

As thus--a wink of the left eye was to signify push that point, Captain. 

A wink of the right, and a nod, was to indicate approbation of what hehad said. 

My fore-finger held up, and biting my lip, get off of that, as fast aspossible. 

A right-forward nod, and a frown, swear to it, Captain. 

My whole spread hand, to take care not to say too much on that particularsubject. 

A scowling brow, and a positive nod, was to bid him rise in temper. 

And these motions I could make, even those with my hand, without holdingup my arm, or moving my wrist, had the women been there; as, when themotions were agreed upon, I knew not but they would. 

She hemmed--I was going to speak, to spare her supposed confusion: butthis lady never wants presence of mind, when presence of mind isnecessary either to her honour, or to that conscious dignity whichdistinguishes her from all the women I ever knew. 

I have been considering, said she, as well as I was able, of every thingthat has passed; and of all that has been said; and of my unhappysituation. I mean no ill, I wish no ill, to any creature living, Mr. Tomlinson. I have always delighted to draw favourable rather thanunfavourable conclusions; sometimes, as it has proved, for very badhearts. Censoriousness, whatever faults I have, is not naturally myfault. --But, circumstanced as I am, treated as I have been, unworthilytreated, by a man who is full of contrivances, and glories in them--

Lovel. My dearest life!--But I will not interrupt you. 

Cl. Thus treated, it becomes me to doubt--it concerns my honour todoubt, to fear, to apprehend--your intervention, Sir, is so seasonable, so kind, for this man--my uncle's expedient, the first of the kind heever, I believe, thought of! a plain, honest, good-minded man, as he is, not affecting such expedients--your report in conformity to it--theconsequences of that report; the alarm taken by my brother; his rashresolution upon it--the alarm taken by Lady Betty, and the rest of Mr. Lovelace's relations--the sudden letters written to him upon it, which, with your's, he showed me--all ceremony, among persons born observers ofceremony, and entitled to value themselves upon their distinction, dispensed with--all these things have happened so quick, and some of themso seasonable--

Lovel. Lady Betty, you see, Madam, in her letter, dispenses withpunctilo, avowedly in compliment to you. Charlotte, in her's, professesto do the same for the same reason. Good Heaven! that the respectintended you by my relations, who, in every other case, are reallypunctilious, should be thus construed! They were glad, Madam, to have anopportunity to compliment you at my expense. Every one of my familytakes delight in rallying me. But their joy on the supposed occasion--

Cl. Do I doubt, Sir, that you have not something to say for any thingyou think fit to do? I am speaking to Captain Tomlinson, Sir. I willyou would be pleased to withdraw--at least to come from behind my chair. 

And she looked at the Captain, observing, no doubt, that his eyes seemedto take lessons from mine. 

A fair match, by Jupiter!

The Captain was disconcerted. The dog had not had such a blush upon hisface for ten years before. I bit my lip for vexation: walked about theroom; but nevertheless took my post again; and blinked with my eyes tothe Captain, as a caution for him to take more care of his: and thenscouling with my brows, and giving the nod positive, I as good as said, resent that, Captain. 

Capt. I hope, Madam, you have no suspicion that I am capable--

Cl. Be not displeased with me, Captain Tomlinson. I have told you thatI am not of a suspicious temper. Excuse me for the sake of my sincerity. There is not, I will be bold to say, a sincerer heart in the world thanher's before you. 

She took out her handkerchief, and put it to her eyes. 

I was going, at that instant, after her example, to vouch for the honestyof my heart; but my conscience Mennelled upon me; and would not sufferthe meditated vow to pass my lips. --A devilish thing, thought I, for aman to be so little himself, when he has most occasion for himself!

The villain Tomlinson looked at me with a rueful face, as if he beggedleave to cry for company. It might have been as well, if he had cried. A feeling heart, or the tokens of it given by a sensible eye, are veryreputable things, when kept in countenance by the occasion. 

And here let me fairly own to thee, that twenty times in this tryingconversation I said to myself, that could I have thought that I shouldhave had all this trouble, and incurred all this guilt, I would have beenhonest at first. But why, Jack, is this dear creature so lovely, yet soinvincible?--Ever heardst thou before that the sweets of May blossomed inDecember?

Capt. Be pleased--be pleased, Madam--if you have any doubts of myhonour--

A whining varlet! He should have been quite angry--For what gave I himthe nod positive? He should have stalked again to the window, as for hiswhip and hat. 

Cl. I am only making such observations as my youth, my inexperience, and my present unhappy circumstances, suggest to me--a worthy heart(such, I hope, as Captain Tomlinson's) need not fear an examination--need not fear being looked into--whatever doubts that man, who has beenthe cause of my errors, and, as my severe father imprecated, the punisherof the errors he has caused, might have had of me, or of my honour, Iwould have forgiven him for them, if he had fairly proposed them to me:for some doubts perhaps such a man might have of the future conduct of acreature whom he could induce to correspond with him against parentalprohibition, and against the lights which her own judgment threw in uponher: and if he had propounded them to me like a man and a gentleman, Iwould have been glad of the opportunity given me to clear my intentions, and to have shown myself entitled to his good opinion--and I hope you, Sir--

Capt. I am ready to hear all your doubts, Madam, and to clear them up--

Cl. I will only put it, Sir, to your conscience and honour--

The dog sat uneasy--he shuffled with his feet--her eye was upon him--hewas, therefore, after the rebuff he had met with, afraid to look at mefor my motions; and now turned his eyes towards me, then from me, as ifhe would unlook his own looks. 

Cl. That all is true, that you have written, and that you have told me. 

I gave him a right forward nod, and a frown--as much as to say, swear toit, Captain. But the varlet did not round it off as I would have hadhim. However, he averred that it was. 

He had hoped, he said, that the circumstances with which his commissionwas attended, and what he had communicated to her, which he could notknow but from his dear friend, her uncle, might have shielded him evenfrom the shadow of suspicion. But I am contented, said he, stammering, to be thought--to be thought--what--what you please to think of me--till, till, you are satisfied--

A whore's-bird!

Cl. The circumstances you refer to, I must own ought to shield you, Sir, from suspicion; but the man before you is a man that would make anangel suspected, should that angel plead for him. 

I came forward, --traversed the room, --was indeed in a bl--dy passion. --Ihave no patience, Madam!--and again I bit my unpersuasive lips. 

Cl. No man ought to be impatient at imputations he is not ashamed todeserve. An innocent man will not be outrageous upon such imputations. A guilty man ought not. [Most excellently would this charming creaturecap sentences with Lord M. !] But I am not now trying you, Sir, [to me, ]on the foot of your merits. I am only sorry that I am constrained to putquestions to this worthier gentleman, [worthier gentleman, Jack!] which, perhaps, I ought not to put, so far as they regard himself. And I hope, Captain Tomlinson, that you, who know not Mr. Lovelace so well, as, to myunhappiness, I do, and who have children of your own, will excuse a pooryoung creature, who is deprived of all worldly protection, and who hasbeen insulted and endangered by the most designing man in the world, and, perhaps, by a confederacy of his creatures. 

There she stopt; and stood up, and looked at me; fear, nevertheless, apparently mingled with her anger. --And so it ought. I was glad, however, of this poor sign of love; no one fears whom they value not. 

Women's tongues were licensed, I was going to say; but my consciencewould not let me call her a woman; nor use to her so vulgar a phrase. Icould only rave by my motions, lift up my eyes, spread my hands, rub myface, pull my wig, and look like a fool. Indeed, I had a great mind torun mad. Had I been alone with her, I would; and she should have takenconsequences. 

The Captain interposed in my behalf; gently, however, and as a man notquite sure that he was himself acquitted. Some of the pleas we had bothinsisted on he again enforced; and, speaking low, Poor gentleman! saidhe, who can but pity him? Indeed, Madam, it is easy to see, with all hisfailings, the power you have over him!

Cl. I have no pleasure, Sir, in distressing any one; not even him, whohas so much distressed me. But, Sir, when I THINK, and when I see himbefore me, I cannot command my temper! Indeed, indeed, CaptainTomlinson, Mr. Lovelace has not acted by me either as a grateful or agenerous man, nor even as a prudent one!--He knows not, as I told himyesterday, the value of the heart he has insulted!

There the angel stopt; her handkerchief at her eyes. 

O Belford, Belford! that she should so greatly excel, as to make me, attimes, appear as a villain in my own eyes!

I besought her pardon. I promised that it should be the study of mywhole life to deserve it. My faults, I said, whatever they had been, were rather faults in her apprehension than in fact. I besought her togive way to the expedient I had hit upon--I repeated it. The Captainenforced it, for her uncle's sake. I, once more, for the sake of thegeneral reconciliation; for the sake of all my family; for the sake ofpreventing further mischief. 

She wept. She seemed staggered in her resolution--she turned from me. I mentioned the letter of Lord M. I besought her to resign to LadyBetty's mediation all our differences, if she would not forgive me beforeshe saw her. 

She turned towards me--she was going to speak; but her heart was full, and again she turned away her eyes, --And do you really and indeed expectLady Betty and Miss Montague?--And do you--Again she stopt. 

I answered in a solemn manner. 

She turned from me her whole face, and paused, and seemed to consider. But, in a passionate accent, again turning towards me, [O how difficult, Jack, for a Harlowe spirit to forgive!] Let her Ladyship come, if shepleases, said she, I cannot, cannot, wish to see her; and if I did seeher, and she were to plead for you, I cannot wish to hear her! The moreI think, the less I can forgive an attempt, that I am convinced wasintended to destroy me. [A plaguy strong word for the occasion, supposing she was right!] What has my conduct been, that an insult ofsuch a nature should be offered to me, and it would be a weakness in meto forgive? I am sunk in my own eyes! And how can I receive a visitthat must depress me more?

The Captain urged her in my favour with greater earnestness than before. We both even clamoured, as I may say, for mercy and forgiveness. [Didstthou never hear the good folks talk of taking Heaven by storm?]--Contrition repeatedly avowed; a total reformation promised; the happyexpedient again urged. 

Cl. I have taken my measures. I have gone too far to recede, or towish to recede. My mind is prepared for adversity. That I have notdeserved the evils I have met with is my consolation; I have written toMiss Howe what my intentions are. My heart is not with you--it isagainst you, Mr. Lovelace. I had not written to you as I did in theletter I left behind me, had I not resolved, whatever became of me, torenounce you for ever. 

I was full of hope now. Severe as her expressions were, I saw she wasafraid that I should think of what she had written. And, indeed, herletter is violence itself. --Angry people, Jack, should never write whiletheir passion holds. 

Lovel. The severity you have shown me, Madam, whether by pen or byspeech, shall never have place in my remembrance, but for your honor. Inthe light you have taken things, all is deserved, and but the naturalresult of virtuous resentment; and I adore you, even for the pangs youhave given me. 

She was silent. She had employment enough with her handkerchief at hereyes. 

Lovel. You lament, sometimes, that you have no friends of your own sexto consult with. Miss Rawlins, I must confess, is too inquisitive to beconfided in, [I liked not, thou mayest think, her appeal to MissRawlins. ] She may mean well. But I never in my life knew a person, whowas fond of prying into the secrets of others, that was fit to betrusted. The curiosity of such is governed by pride, which is notgratified but by whispering about a secret till it becomes public, inorder to show either their consequence, or their sagacity. It is so inevery case. What man or woman, who is covetous of power, or of makinga right use of it? But in the ladies of my family you may confide. Itis their ambition to think of you as one of themselves. Renew but yourconsent to pass to the world, for the sake of your uncle's expedient, andfor the prevention of mischief, as a lady some time married. Lady Bettymay be acquainted with the naked truth; and you may, (as she hopes youwill, ) accompany her to her seat; and, if it must be so, consider me asin a state of penitence or probation, to be accepted or rejected, as Imay appear to deserve. 

The Captain again clapt his hands on his breast, and declared, upon hishonour, that this was a proposal that, were the case that of his owndaughter, and she were not resolved upon immediate marriage, (which yethe thought by far the more eligible choice, ) he should be very muchconcerned were she to refuse it. 

Cl. Were I with Mr. Lovelace's relations, and to pass as his wife tothe world, I could not have any choice. And how could he be then in astate of probation?--O Mr. Tomlinson, you are too much his friend to seeinto his drift. 

Capt. His friend, Madam, as I said before, as I am your's and youruncle's, for the sake of a general reconciliation, which must begin witha better understanding between yourselves. 

Lovel. Only, my dearest life, resolve to attend the arrival and visitof Lady Betty; and permit her to arbitrate between us. 

Capt. There can be no harm in that, Madam. You can suffer noinconvenience from that. If Mr. Lovelace's offence be such, that a womanof Lady Betty's character judges it to be unpardonable, why then--

Cl. [Interrupting; and to me, ] If I am not invaded by you, Sir; if Iam, (as I ought to be, ) my own mistress, I think to stay here, in thishonest house, [and then had I an eye-beam, as the Captain calls it, flashed at me, ] till I receive a letter from Miss Howe. That, I hope, will be in a day or two. If in that time the ladies come whom youexpect, and if they are desirous to see the creature whom you have madeunhappy, I shall know whether I can or cannot receive their visit. 

She turned short to the door, and, retiring, went up stairs to herchamber. 

O Sir, said the Captain, as soon as she was gone, what an angel of awoman is this! I have been, and I am a very wicked man. But if anything should happen amiss to this admirable lady, through my means, Ishall have more cause for self-reproach than for all the bad actionsof my life put together. 

And his eyes glistened. 

Nothing can happen amiss, thou sorrowful dog!--What can happen amiss?Are we to form our opinion of things by the romantic notions of a girl, who supposes that to be the greatest which is the slightest of evils?Have I not told thee our whole story? Has she not broken her promise?Did I not generously spare her, when in my power? I was decent, thoughI had her at such advantage. --Greater liberties have I taken with girlsof character at a common romping 'bout, and all has been laughed off, and handkerchief and head-clothes adjusted, and petticoats shaken torights, in my presence. Never man, in the like circumstances, andresolved as I was resolved, goaded on as I was goaded on, as well by herown sex, as by the impulses of a violent passion, was ever so decent. Yet what mercy does she show me?

Now, Jack, this pitiful dog was such another unfortunate one as thyself--his arguments serving to confirm me in the very purpose he brought themto prevail upon me to give up. Had he left me to myself, to thetenderness of my own nature, moved as I was when the lady withdrew, andhad he set down, and made odious faces, and said nothing--it is verypossible that I should have taken the chair over against him, which shehad quitted, and have cried and blubbered with him for half an hourtogether. But the varlet to argue with me!--to pretend to convince aman, who knows in is heart that he is doing a wrong thing!--He must needsthink that this would put me upon trying what I could say for myself; andwhen the extended compunction can be carried from the heart to the lipsit must evaporate in words. 

Thou, perhaps, in this place, wouldst have urged the same pleas that heurged. What I answered to him therefore may do for thee, and spare theethe trouble of writing, and me of reading, a good deal of nonsense. 

Capt. You were pleased to tell me, Sir, that you only proposed to tryher virtue; and that you believed you should actually marry her. 

Lovel. So I shall, and cannot help it. I have no doubt but I shall. And as to trying her, is she not now in the height of her trial? Have Inot reason to think that she is coming about? Is she not now yielding upher resentment for an attempt which she thinks she ought not to forgive?And if she do, may she not forgive the last attempt?--Can she, in a word, resent that more than she does this? Women often, for their own sakes, will keep the last secret; but will ostentatiously din the ears of godsand men with their clamours upon a successless offer. It was my folly, my weakness, that I gave her not more cause for this her unsparingviolence!

Capt. O Sir, you will never be able to subdue this lady without force. 

Lovel. Well, then, puppy, must I not endeavour to find a proper timeand place--

Capt. Forgive me, Sir! but can you think of force to such a finecreature?

Lovel. Force, indeed, I abhor the thought of; and for what, thinkestthou, have I taken all the pains I have taken, and engaged so manypersons in my cause, but to avoid the necessity of violent compulsion?But yet, imaginest thou that I expect direct consent from such a lover offorms as this lady is known to be! Let me tell thee, M'Donald, that thymaster, Belford, has urged on thy side of the question all that thoucanst urge. Must I have every sorry fellow's conscience to pacify, aswell as my own?--By my soul, Patrick, she has a friend here, [clapping myhand on my breast, ] that pleads for her with greater and moreirresistible eloquence than all the men in the world can plead for her. And had she not escaped me--And yet how have I answered my first designof trying her, * and in her the virtue of the most virtuous of the sex?--Perseverance, man!--Perseverance!--What! wouldst thou have me decline atrial that they make for the honour of a sex we all so dearly love?

* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. 

Then, Sir, you have no thoughts--no thoughts--[looking still moresorrowfully, ] of marrying this wonderful lady?

Yes, yes, Patrick, but I have. But let me, first, to gratify my pride, bring down her's. Let me see, that she loves me well enough to forgiveme for my own sake. Has she not heretofore lamented that she staid notin her father's house, though the consequence must have been, if she had, that she would have been the wife of the odious Solmes? If now she bebrought to consent to be mine, seest thou not that the reconciliationwith her detested relations is the inducement, as it always was, and notlove of me?--Neither her virtue nor her love can be established but uponfull trial; the last trial--but if her resistance and resentment be suchas hitherto I have reason to expect they will be, and if I find in thatresentment less of hatred of me than of the fact, then shall she be minein her own way. Then, hateful as is the life of shackles to me, will Imarry her. 

Well, Sir, I can only say, that I am dough in your hands, to be mouldedinto what shape you please. But if, as I said before--

None of thy Said-before's, Patrick. I remember all thou sadist--and Iknow all thou canst farther say--thou art only, Pontius Pilate like, washing thine own hands, (don't I know thee?) that thou mayest havesomething to silence thy conscience with by loading me. But we have gonetoo far to recede. Are not all our engines in readiness? Dry up thysorrowful eyes. Let unconcern and heart's ease once more take possessionof thy solemn features. Thou hast hitherto performed extremely well. --Shame not thy past by thy future behaviour; and a rich reward awaitsthee. If thou art dough be dough; and I slapt him on the shoulder--Resume but thy former shape, and I'll be answerable for the event. 

He bowed assent and compliance; went to the glass; and began to untwistand unsadden his features; pulled his wig right, as if that, as well ashis head and heart had been discomposed by his compunction, and once morebecame old Lucifer's and mine. 

But didst thou think, Jack, that there was so much--What-shall-I-call-it?--in this Tomlinson? Didst thou imagine that such a fellow as that hadbowels? That nature, so long dead and buried in him, as to all humaneeffects, should thus revive and exert itself?--Yet why do I ask thisquestion of thee, who, to my equal surprise, hast shown, on the sameoccasion, the like compassionate sensibilities?

As to Tomlinson, it looks as if poverty had made him the wicked fellow heis; as plenty and wantonness have made us what we are. Necessity, afterall, is the test of principle. But what is there in this dull word, orthing, called HONESTY, that even I, who cannot in my present views beserved by it, cannot help thinking even the accidental emanations of itamiable in Tomlinson, though demonstrated in a female case; and judgingbetter of him for being capable of such?

LETTER XXXVI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. 

This debate between the Captain and me was hardly over when the threewomen, led by Miss Rawlins, entered, hoping no intrusion, but verydesirous, the maiden said, to know if we were likely to accommodate. 

O yes, I hope so. You know, Ladies, that your sex must, in these cases, preserve their forms. They must be courted to comply with their ownhappiness. A lucky expedient we have hit upon. The uncle has his doubtsof our marriage. He cannot believe, nor will any body, that it ispossible that a man so much in love, the lady so desirable--

They all took the hint. It was a very extraordinary case, the two widowsallowed. Women, Jack, [as I believe I have observed* elsewhere, ] have ahigh opinion of what they can do for us. Miss Rawlins desired, if Ipleased, to let them know the expedient; and looked as if there was noneed to proceed in the rest of my speech. 

* See Letter XXIV. Of this volume. 

I begged that they would not let the lady know I had told them what thisexpedient was; and they should hear it. 

They promised. 

It was this: that to oblige and satisfy Mr. Harlowe, the ceremony was tobe again performed. He was to be privately present, and to give hisniece to me with his own hands--and she was retired to consider of it. 

Thou seest, Jack, that I have provided an excuse, to save my veracity tothe women here, in case I should incline to marriage, and she shouldchoose to have Miss Rawlins's assistance at the ceremony. Nor doubted Ito bring my fair-one to save my credit on this occasion, if I could gether to consent to be mine. 

A charming expedient! cried the widow. They were all three ready to claptheir hands for joy upon it. Women love to be married twice at least, Jack; though not indeed to the same man. And all blessed thereconciliatory scheme and the proposer of it; and, supposing it came fromthe Captain, they looked at him with pleasure, while his face shined withthe applause implied. He should think himself very happy, if he couldbring about a general reconciliation; and he flourished with his headlike my man Will. On his victory over old Grimes; bridling by turns, likeMiss Rawlins in the height of a prudish fit. 

But now it was time for the Captain to think of returning to town, havinga great deal of business to dispatch before morning. Nor was he certainthat he should be able again to attend us at Hampstead before he wenthome. 

And yet, as every thing was drawing towards a crisis, I did not intendthat he should leave Hampstead that night. 

A message to the above effect was carried up, at my desire, by Mrs. Moore; with the Captain's compliments, and to know if she had anycommands for him to her uncle?

But I hinted to the women, that it would be proper for them to withdraw, if the lady did come down; lest she should not care to be so free beforethem on a proposal so particular, as she would be to us, who had offeredit to her consideration. 

Mrs. Moore brought down word that the lady was following her. They allthree withdrew; and she entered at one door, as they went out at theother. 

The Captain accosted her, repeating the contents of the message sent up;and desired that she would give him her commands in relation to thereport he was to make to her uncle Harlowe. 

I know not what to say, Sir, nor what I would have you to say, to myuncle--perhaps you may have business in town--perhaps you need not see myuncle till I have heard from Miss Howe; till after Lady Betty--I don'tknow what to say. 

I implored the return of that value which she had so generouslyacknowledged once to have had for me. I presumed, I said, to flattermyself that Lady Betty, in her own person, and in the name of all myfamily, would be able, on my promised reformation and contrition, toprevail in my favour, especially as our prospects in other respects withregard to the general reconciliation wished for were so happy. But letme owe to your own generosity, my dearest creature, said I, rather thanto the mediation of any person on earth, the forgiveness I am an humblesuitor for. How much more agreeable to yourself, O best beloved of mysoul, must it be, as well as obliging to me, that your first personalknowledge of my relations, and theirs of you, (for they will not bedenied attending you) should not be begun in recriminations, in appeals?As Lady Betty will be here soon, it will not perhaps be possible for youto receive her visit with a brow absolutely serene. But, dearest, dearest creature, I beseech you, let the misunderstanding pass as aslight one--as a misunderstanding cleared up. Appeals give pride andsuperiority to the persons appealed to, and are apt to lessen theappellant, not only in their eye, but in her own. Exalt not into judgesthose who are prepared to take lessons and instructions from you. Theindividuals of my family are as proud as I am said to be. But they willcheerfully resign to your superiority--you will be the first woman of thefamily in every one's eyes. 

This might have done with any other woman in the world but this; and yetshe is the only woman in the world of whom it may with truth be said. But thus, angrily, did she disclaim the compliment. 

Yes, indeed!--[and there she stopt a moment, her sweet bosom heaving witha noble disdain]--cheated out of myself from the very first!--A fugitivefrom my own family! Renounced by my relations! Insulted by you!--Layinghumble claim to the protection of your's!--Is not this the light in whichI must appear not only to the ladies of your family, but to all theworld?--Think you, Sir, that in these circumstances, or even had I beenin the happiest, that I could be affected by this plea of undeservedsuperiority?--You are a stranger to the mind of Clarissa Harlowe, if youthink her capable of so poor and so undue a pride!

She went from us to the farther end of the room. 

The Captain was again affected--Excellent creature! I called her; and, reverently approaching her, urged farther the plea I had last made. 

It is but lately, said I, that the opinions of my relations have beenmore than indifferent to me, whether good or bad; and it is for yoursake, more than for my own, that I now wish to stand well with my wholefamily. The principal motive of Lady Betty's coming up, is, to purchasepresents for the whole family to make on the happy occasion. 

This consideration, turning to the Captain, with so noble-minded a dearcreature, I know, can have no weight; only as it will show their valueand respect. But what a damp would their worthy hearts receive, werethey to find their admired new niece, as they now think her, not only nottheir niece, but capable of renouncing me for ever! They love me. Theyall love me. I have been guilty of carelessness and levity to them, indeed; but of carelessness and levity only; and that owing to a pridethat has set me above meanness, though it has not done every thing forme. 

My whole family will be guaranties for my good behaviour to this dearcreature, their niece, their daughter, their cousin, their friend, theirchosen companion and directress, all in one. --Upon my soul, Captain, wemay, we must be happy. 

But, dearest, dearest creature, let me on my knees [and down I dropt, herface all the time turned half from me, as she stood at the window, herhandkerchief often at her eyes] on my knees let me plead your promisedforgiveness; and let us not appear to them, on their visit, thus unhappywith each other. Lady Betty, the next hour that she sees you, will writeher opinion of you, and of the likelihood of our future happiness, toLady Sarah her sister, a weak-spirited woman, who now hopes to supply toherself, in my bride, the lost daughter she still mourns for!

The Captain then joined in, and re-urged her uncle's hopes andexpectations, and his resolution effectually to set about the generalreconciliation; the mischief that might be prevented; and the certaintythat there was that her uncle might be prevailed on to give her to mewith his own hand, if she made it her choice to wait for his coming up. But, for his own part, he humbly advised, and fervently pressed her, tomake the very next day, or Monday at farthest, my happy day. 

Permit me, dearest lady, said he, and I could kneel to you myself, [bending his knee, ] though I have no interest in my earnestness, but thepleasure I should have to be able to serve you all, to beseech you togive me an opportunity to assure your uncle that I myself saw with my owneyes the happy knot tied!--All misunderstandings, all doubts, alldiffidences, will then be at an end. 

And what, Madam, rejoined I, still kneeling, can there be in your newmeasures, be they what they will, that can so happily, so reputably, Iwill presume to say, for all around, obviate the present difficulties?

Miss Howe herself, if she love you, and if she love your fame, Madam, urged the Captain, his knee still bent, must congratulate you on suchhappy conclusion. 

Then turning her face, she saw the Captain half-kneeling--O Sir! O Capt. Tomlinson!--Why this undue condescension? extending her hand to hiselbow, to raise him. I cannot bear this!--Then casting her eye on me, Rise, Mr. Lovelace--kneel not to the poor creature whom you haveinsulted!--How cruel the occasion for it!--And how mean the submission!

Not mean to such an angel!--Nor can I rise but to be forgiven!

The Captain then re-urged once more the day--he was amazed, he said, ifshe ever valued me--

O Captain Tomlinson, interrupted she, how much are you the friend of thisman!--If I had never valued him, he never would have had it in his powerto insult me; nor could I, if I had never regarded him, have taken toheart as I do, the insult (execrable as it was) so undeservedly, soungratefully given--but let him retire--for a moment let him retire. 

I was more than half afraid to trust the Captain by himself with her. Hegave me a sign that I might depend upon him. And then I took out of mypocket his letter to me, and Lady Betty's and Miss Montague's, and LordM. 's letters (which last she had not then seen); and giving them to him, procure for me, in the first place, Mr. Tomlinson, a re-perusal of thesethree letters; and of this from Lord M. And I beseech you, my dearestlife, give them due consideration: and let me on my return find the happyeffects of that consideration. 

I then withdrew; with slow feet, however, and a misgiving heart. 

The Captain insisted upon this re-perusal previously to what she had tosay to him, as he tells me. She complied, but with some difficulty; asif she were afraid of being softened in my favour. 

She lamented her unhappy situation; destitute of friends, and not knowingwhither to go, or what to do. She asked questions, sifting-questions, about her uncle, about her family, and after what he knew of Mr. Hickman's fruitless application in her favour. 

He was well prepared in this particular; for I had shown him the lettersand extracts of letter of Miss Howe, which I had so happily come at. *Might she be assured, she asked him, that her brother, with Singleton andSolmes, were actually in quest of her?

* Vol. IV. Letter XLIV. 

He averred that they were. 

She asked, if he thought I had hopes of prevailing on her to go back totown?

He was sure I had not. 

Was he really of opinion that Lady Betty would pay her a visit?

He had no doubt of it. 

But, Sir; but, Captain Tomlinson--[impatiently turning from him, andagain to him] I know not what to do--but were I your daughter, Sir--wereyou my own father--Alas! Sir, I have neither father nor mother!

He turned from her and wiped his eyes. 

O Sir! you have humanity! [She wept too. ] There are some men in theworld, thank Heaven, that can be moved. O Sir, I have met with hard-hearted men--in my own family too--or I could not have been so unhappyas I am--but I make every body unhappy!

His eyes no doubt ran over. --

Dearest Madam! Heavenly Lady!--Who can--who can--hesitated and blubberedthe dog, as he owned. And indeed I heard some part of what passed, though they both talked lower than I wished; for, from the nature oftheir conversation, there was no room for altitudes. 

THEM, and BOTH, and THEY!--How it goes against me to include this angelof a creature, and any man on earth but myself, in one world!

Capt. Who can forbear being affected?--But, Madam, you can be no otherman's. 

Cl. Nor would I be. But he is so sunk with me!--To fire the house!--Anartifice so vile!--contrived for the worst of purposes!--Would you have adaughter of your's--But what would I say?--Yet you see that I have nobodyin whom I can confide!--Mr. Lovelace is a vindictive man!--He could notlove the creature whom he could insult as he has insulted me!

She paused. And then resuming--in short, I never, never can forgive him, nor he me. --Do you think, Sir, I never would have gone so far as I havegone, if I had intended ever to draw with him in one yoke?--I left behindme such a letter--

You know, Madam, he has acknowledged the justice of your resentment--

O Sir, he can acknowledge, and he can retract, fifty times a day--but donot think I am trifling with myself and you, and want to be persuaded toforgive him, and to be his. There is not a creature of my sex, who wouldhave been more explicit, and more frank, than I would have been, from themoment I intended to be his, had I a heart like my own to deal with. Iwas always above reserve, Sir, I will presume to say, where I had nocause of doubt. Mr. Lovelace's conduct has made me appear, perhaps, over-nice, when my heart wanted to be encouraged and assured! and when, if it had been so, my whole behaviour would have been governed by it. 

She stopt; her handkerchief at her eyes. 

I inquired after the minutest part of her behaviour, as well as after herwords. I love, thou knowest, to trace human nature, and moreparticularly female nature, through its most secret recesses. 

The pitiful fellow was lost in silent admiration of her. And thus thenoble creature proceeded. 

It is the fate in unequal unions, that tolerable creatures, through them, frequently incur censure, when more happily yoked they might be entitledto praise. And shall I not shun a union with a man, that might lead intoerrors a creature who flatters herself that she is blest with aninclination to be good; and who wishes to make every one happy with whomshe has any connection, even to her very servants?

She paused, taking a turn about the room--the fellow, devil fetch him, amummy all the time:--Then proceeded. 

Formerly, indeed, I hoped to be an humble mean of reforming him. But, when I have no such hope, is it right [you are a serious man, Sir] tomake a venture that shall endanger my own morals?

Still silent was the varlet. If my advocate had nothing to say for me, what hope of carrying my cause?

And now, Sir, what is the result of all?--It is this--that you willendeavour, if you have that influence over him which a man of your senseand experience ought to have, to prevail upon him, and that for his ownsake, as well as for mine, to leave me free, to pursue my own destiny. And of this you may assure him, that I will never be any other man's. 

Impossible, Madam! I know that Mr. Lovelace would not hear me withpatience on such a topic. And I do assure you that I have some spirit, and should not care to take an indignity from him or from any man living. 

She paused--then resuming--and think you, Sir, that my uncle will refuseto receive a letter from me? [How averse, Jack, to concede a tittle inmy favour!]

I know, Madam, as matters are circumstanced, that he would not answer it. If you please I will carry one down from you. 

And will he not pursue his intentions in my favour, nor be himselfreconciled to me, except I am married?

From what your brother gives out, and effects to believe, on Mr. Lovelace's living with you in the same--

No more, Sir--I am an unhappy creature!

He then re-urged, that it would be in her power instantly, or on themorrow, to put an end to all her difficulties. 

How can that be? said she: the license still to be obtained? Thesettlements still to be signed? Miss Howe's answer to my lastunreceived?--And shall I, Sir, be in such a HURRY, as if I thought myhonour in danger if I delayed? Yet marry the man from whom only it canbe endangered!--Unhappy, thrice unhappy Clarissa Harlowe!--In how manydifficulties has one rash step involved thee!--And she turned from himand wept. 

The varlet, by way of comfort, wept too: yet her tears, as he might haveobserved, were tears that indicated rather a yielding than a perversetemper. 

There is a sort of stone, thou knowest, so soft in the quarry, that itmay in manner be cut with a knife; but if the opportunity not be taken, and it is exposed to the air for any time, it will become as hard asmarble, and then with difficulty it yields to the chisel. * So this lady, not taken at the moment, after a turn or two across the room, gained moreresolution! and then she declared, as she had done once before, that shewould wait the issue of Miss Howe's answer to the letter she had sent herfrom hence, and take her measures accordingly--leaving it to him, meantime, to make what report he thought fit to her uncle--the kindest thattruth could bear, she doubted not from Captain Tomlinson: and she shouldbe glad of a few lines from him, to hear what that was. 

* The nature of the Bath stone, in particular. 

She wished him a good journey. She complained of her head; and was aboutto withdraw: but I stept round to the door next the stairs, as if I hadbut just come in from the garden (which, as I entered, I called a verypretty one) and took her reluctant hand as she was going out: My dearestlife, you are not going?--What hopes, Captain?--Have you not some hopesto give me of pardon and reconciliation?

She said she would not be detained. But I would not let her go till shehad promised to return, when the Captain had reported to me what herresolution was. 

And when he had, I sent up and claimed her promise; and she came downagain, and repeated (as what she was determined upon) that she would waitfor Miss Howe's answers to the letter she had written to her, and takeher measures according to its contents. 

I expostulated with her upon it, in the most submissive and earnestmanner. She made it necessary for me to repeat many of the pleas I hadbefore urged. The Captain seconded me with equal earnestness. At last, each fell down on our knees before her. 

She was distressed. I was afraid at one time she would have fainted. Yet neither of us would rise without some concessions. I pleaded my ownsake; the Captain, his dear friend, her uncle's; and both re-pleaded theprevention of future mischief; and the peace and happiness of the twofamilies. 

She owned herself unequal to the conflict. She sighed. She sobbed. Shewept. She wrung her hands. 

I was perfectly eloquent in my vows and protetations. Her tearful eyeswere cast down upon me; a glow upon each charming cheek; a visibleanguish in every lovely feature--at last, her trembling knees seemed tofail her, she dropt into the next chair; her charming face, as if seekingfor a hiding place (which a mother's bosom would have best supplied)sinking upon her own shoulder. 

I forgot at the instant all my vows of revenge. I threw myself at herfeet, as she sat; and, snatching her hand, pressed it with my lips. Ibesought Heaven to forgive my past offences, and prosper my future hopes, as I designed honourably and justly by the charmer of my heart, if oncemore she should restore me to her favour. And I thought I felt drops ofscalding water [could they be tears?] trickle down upon my cheeks; whilemy cheeks, glowing like fire, seemed to scorch up the unwelcomestrangers. 

I then arose, not doubting of an implied pardon in this silent distress. I raised the Captain. I whispered him--by my soul, man, I am in earnest. --Now talk of reconciliation, of her uncle, of the license, of settlement--and raising my voice, If now at last, Captain Tomlinson, my angel willgive me leave to call so great a blessing mine, it will be impossiblethat you should say too much to her uncle in praise of my gratitude, myaffection, and fidelity to his charming niece; and he may begin as soonas he pleases his kind schemes for effecting the desirablereconciliation!--Nor shall he prescribe any terms to me that I will notcomply with. 

The Captain blessed me with his eyes and hands--Thank God! whispered he. We approached the lady together. 

Capt. What hinders, dearest Madam, what now hinders, but that LadyBetty Lawrance, when she comes, may be acquainted with the truth of everything? And that then she may assist privately at your nuptials? I willstay till they are celebrated; and then shall go down with the happytidings to my dear Mr. Harlowe. And all will, all must, soon be happy. 

I must have an answer from Miss Howe, replied the still trembling fair-one. I cannot change my new measures but with her advice. I willforfeit all my hopes of happiness in this world, rather than forfeit hergood opinion, and that she should think me giddy, unsteady, orprecipitate. All I shall further say on the present subject is this, that when I have her answer to what I have written, I will write to herthe whole state of the matter, as I shall then be enabled to do. 

Lovel. Then must I despair for ever!--O Captain Tomlinson, Miss Howehates me!--Miss Howe--

Capt. Not so, perhaps--when Miss Howe knows your concern for havingoffended, she will never advise that, with such prospects of generalreconciliation, the hopes of so many considerable persons in bothfamilies should be frustrated. Some little time, as this excellentlady had foreseen and hinted, will necessarily be taken up in actuallyprocuring the license, and in perusing and signing the settlements. Inthat time Miss Howe's answer may be received; and Lady Betty may arrive;and she, no doubt, will have weight to dissipate the lady's doubts, andto accelerate the day. It shall be my part, mean time, to make Mr. Harlowe easy. All I fear is from Mr. James Harlowe's quarter; andtherefore all must be conducted with prudence and privacy: as your uncle, Madam, has proposed. 

She was silent, I rejoiced in her silence. The dear creature, thought I, has actually forgiven me in her heart!--But why will she not lay me underobligation to her, by the generosity of an explicit declaration?--Andyet, as that would not accelerate any thing, while the license is not inmy hands, she is the less to be blamed (if I do her justice) for takingmore time to descend. 

I proposed, as on the morrow night, to go to town; and doubted not tobring the license up with me on Monday morning; would she be pleased toassure me, that she would not depart form Mrs. Moore's. 

She should stay at Mrs. Moore's till she had an answer from Miss Howe. 

I told her that I hoped I might have her tacit consent at least to theobtaining if the license. 

I saw by the turn of her countenance that I should not have asked thisquestion. She was so far from tacitly consenting, that she declared tothe contrary. 

As I never intended, I said, to ask her to enter again into a house, withthe people of which she was so much offended, would she be pleased togive orders for her clothes to be brought up hither? Or should Dorcasattend her for any of her commands on that head?

She desired not ever more to see any body belonging to that house. Shemight perhaps get Mrs. Moore or Mrs. Bevis to go thither for her, andtake her keys with them. 

I doubted not, I said, that Lady Betty would arrive by that time. Ihoped she had no objection to my bringing that lady and my cousinMontague up with me?

She was silent. 

To be sure, Mr. Lovelace, said the Captain, the lady can have noobjection to this. 

She was still silent. So silence in this case was assent. 

Would she be pleased to write to Miss Howe?--

Sir! Sir! peevishly interrupting--no more questions; no prescribing to me--you will do as you think fit--so will I, as I please. I own noobligation to you. Captain Tomlinson, your servant. Recommend me to myuncle Harlowe's favour. And was going. 

I took her reluctant hand, and besought her only to promise to meet meearly in the morning. 

To what purpose meet you? Have you more to say than has been said? Ihave had enough of vows and protestations, Mr. Lovelace. To what purposeshould I meet you to-morrow morning?

I repeated my request, and that in the most fervent manner, naming six inthe morning. 

'You know that I am always stirring before that hour, at this season ofthe year, ' was the half-expressed consent. 

She then again recommended herself to her uncle's favour; and withdrew. 

And thus, Belford, has she mended her markets, as Lord M. Would say, andI worsted mine. Miss Howe's next letter is now the hinge on which thefate of both must turn. I shall be absolutely ruined and undone, if Icannot intercept it. 

END OF VOL. 5