LETTER XVII
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY MORNING, 7 O'CLOCK
My uncle has vouchsafed to answer me. These that follow are thecontents of his letter; but just now brought me, although written lastnight--late I suppose.
MONDAY NIGHT.
MISS CLARY,
Since you are grown such a bold challenger, and teach us all our duty,though you will not practise your own, I must answer you. Nobodywants you estate from you. Are you, who refuse ever body's advice,to prescribe a husband to your sister? Your letter to Mr. Solmes isinexcusable. I blamed you for it before. Your parents will be obeyed. Itis fit they should. Your mother has nevertheless prevailed to have yourgoing to your uncle Antony's put off till Thursday: yet owns you deservenot that, or any other favour from her. I will receive no more ofyour letters. You are too artful for me. You are an ungrateful andunreasonable child: Must you have your way paramount to every body's?How are you altered.
Your displeased uncle, JOHN HARLOWE.
*****
To be carried away on Thursday--To the moated house--To the chapel--ToSolmes! How can I think of this!--They will make me desperate.
TUESDAY MORNING, 8 O'CLOCK.
I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace. I opened it with theexpectation of its being filled with bold and free complaints, on mynot writing to prevent his two nights watching, in weather not extremelyagreeable. But, instead of complaints, he is 'full of tender concernlest I may have been prevented by indisposition, or by the closerconfinement which he has frequently cautioned me that I may expect.'
He says, 'He had been in different disguises loitering about our gardenand park wall, all the day on Sunday last; and all Sunday night waswandering about the coppice, and near the back door. It rained; and hehas got a great cold, attended with feverishness, and so hoarse, that hehas almost lost his voice.'
Why did he not flame out in his letter?--Treated as I am treated by myfriends, it is dangerous to be laid under the sense of an obligation toan addresser's patience; especially when such a one suffers in healthfor my sake.
'He had no shelter, he says, but under the great overgrown ivy, whichspreads wildly round the heads of two or three oaklings; and that wassoon wet through.'
You remember the spot. You and I, my dear, once thought ourselvesobliged to the natural shade which those ivy-covered oaklings affordedus, in a sultry day.
I can't help saying, I am sorry he has suffered for my sake; but 'tishis own seeking.
His letter is dated last night at eight: 'And, indisposed as he is,he tells me that he will watch till ten, in hopes of my giving him themeeting he so earnestly request. And after that, he has a mile to walkto his horse and servant; and four miles then to ride to his inn.'
He owns, 'That he has an intelligencer in our family; who has failedhim for a day or two past: and not knowing how I do, or how I may betreated, his anxiety is increased.'
This circumstance gives me to guess who this intelligencer is: JosephLeman: the very creature employed and confided in, more than any other,by my brother.
This is not an honourable way of proceeding in Mr. Lovelace. Didhe learn this infamous practice of corrupting the servants of otherfamilies at the French court, where he resided a good while?
I have been often jealous of this Leman in my little airings andpoultry-visits. Doubly obsequious as he was always to me, I havethought him my brother's spy upon me; and although he obliged me byhis hastening out of the garden and poultry-yard, whenever I came intoeither, have wondered, that from his reports my liberties of those kindshave not been abridged.* So, possibly, this man may be bribed by both,yet betray both. Worthy views want not such obliquities as these oneither side. An honest mind must rise into indignation both at thetraitor-maker and the traitor.
* Mr. Lovelace accounts for this, Vol. I, Letter XXXV.
'He presses with the utmost earnestness for an interview. He would notpresume, he says, to disobey my last personal commands, that he shouldnot endeavour to attend me again in the wood-house. But says, he cangive me such reasons for my permitting him to wait upon my fatheror uncles, as he hopes will be approved by me: for he cannot helpobserving, that it is no more suitable to my own spirit than to his,that he, a man of fortune and family, should be obliged to pursue such aclandestine address, as would only become a vile fortune-hunter. But, ifI will give my consent for his visiting me like a man, and a gentleman,no ill treatment shall provoke him to forfeit his temper.
'Lord M. will accompany him, if I please: or Lady Betty Lawrance willfirst make the visit to my mother, or to my aunt Hervey, or even to myuncles, if I choose it. And such terms shall be offered, as shall haveweight upon them.
'He begs, that I will not deny him making a visit to Mr. Solmes. Byall that's good, he vows, that it shall not be with the least intentioneither to hurt or affront him; but only to set before him, calmly andrationally, the consequences that may possibly flow from so fruitless aperseverance, as well as the ungenerous folly of it, to a mind as nobleas mine. He repeats his own resolution to attend my pleasure, and Mr.Morden's arrival and advice, for the reward of his own patience.
'It is impossible, he says, but one of these methods must do.Presence, he observes, even of a disliked person, takes off the edge ofresentments which absence whets, and makes keen.
'He therefore most earnestly repeats his importunities for thesupplicated interview.' He says, 'He has business of consequence inLondon: but cannot stir from the inconvenient spot where he has forsome time resided, in disguises unworthy of himself, until he can beabsolutely certain, that I shall not be prevailed upon, either by forceor otherwise; and until he finds me delivered from the insults of mybrother. Nor ought this to be an indifferent point to one, for whosesake all the world reports me to be used unworthily. But one remark, hesays, he cannot help making: that did my friends know the little favourI shew him, and the very great distance I keep him at, they wouldhave no reason to confine me on his account. And another, that theythemselves seem to think him entitled to a different usage, and expectthat he receives it; when, in truth, what he meets with from me isexactly what they wish him to meet with, excepting in the favour ofmy correspondence I honour him with; upon which, he says, he puts thehighest value, and for the sake of which he has submitted to a thousandindignities.
'He renews his professions of reformation. He is convinced, he says,that he has already run a long and dangerous course; and that it is hightime to think of returning. It must be from proper conviction, he says,that a person who has lived too gay a life, resolves to reclaim, beforeage or sufferings come upon him.
'All generous spirits, he observes, hate compulsion. Upon thisobservation he dwells; but regrets, that he is likely to owe all hishopes to this compulsion; this injudicious compulsion, he justly callsit; and none to my esteem for him. Although he presumes upon somemerit--in this implicit regard to my will--in the bearing the dailyindignities offered not only to him, but to his relations, by mybrother--in the nightly watchings, his present indisposition makes himmention, or he had not debased the nobleness of his passion for me, bysuch a selfish instance.'
I cannot but say, I am sorry the man is not well.
I am afraid to ask you, my dear, what you would have done, thussituated. But what I have done, I have done. In a word, I wrote, 'ThatI would, if possible, give him a meeting to-morrow night, between thehours of nine and twelve, by the ivy summer-house, or in it, or near thegreat cascade, at the bottom of the garden; and would unbolt the door,that he might come in by his own key. But that, if I found the meetingimpracticable, or should change my mind, I would signify as much byanother line; which he must wait for until it were dark.'
TUESDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK.
I am just returned from depositing my billet. How diligent is this man!It is plain he was in waiting: for I had walked but a few paces, after Ihad deposited it, when, my heart misgiving me, I returned, to have takenit back, in order to reconsider it as I walked, and whether I should orsho
uld not let it go. But I found it gone.
In all probability, there was but a brick wall, of a few inches thick,between Mr. Lovelace and me, at the very time I put the letter under thebrick!
I am come back dissatisfied with myself. But I think, my dear, therecan be no harm in meeting him. If I do not, he may take some violentmeasures. What he knows of the treatment I meet with in malice to him,and with the view to frustrate all his hopes, may make him desperate.His behaviour last time I saw him, under the disadvantages of time andplace, and surprised as I was, gives me no apprehension of any thing butdiscovery. What he requires is not unreasonable, and cannot affect myfuture choice and determination: it is only to assure him from my ownlips, that I never will be the wife of a man I hate. If I have not anopportunity to meet without hazard or detection, he must once morebear the disappointment. All his trouble, and mine too, is owing to hisfaulty character. This, although I hate tyranny and arrogance in allshapes, makes me think less of the risques he runs, and the fatigues heundergoes, than otherwise I should do; and still less, as my sufferings(derived from the same source) are greater than his.
Betty confirms this intimation, that I must go to my uncle's onThursday. She was sent on purpose to direct me to prepare myself forgoing, and to help me to get every thing up in order for my removal.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2 Page 20
