LETTER XXI
MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORNING, DAY-BREAK, MARCH30.
An accident, and not remissness, has occasioned my silence.
My mother was sent for on Sunday night by her cousin Larkin, whom Imentioned in one of my former, and who was extremely earnest to see her.
This poor woman was always afraid of death, and was one of those weakpersons who imagine that the making of their will must be an undoubtedforerunner of it.
She had always said, when urged to the necessary work, That whenever shemade it, she should not live long after; and, one would think, imaginedshe was under an obligation to prove her words: for, though she had beenlong bed-rid, and was, in a manner, worn out before, yet she thoughtherself better, till she was persuaded to make it: and from that moment,remembering what she used to prognosticate, (her fears, helping on whatshe feared, as is often the case, particularly in the small-pox,) grewworse; and had it in her head once to burn her will, in hopes to growbetter upon it.
She sent my mother word, that the doctors had given her over: but thatshe could not die till she saw her. I told my mother, That if she wishedher a chance for recovery, she should not, for that reason, go. But goshe would; and, what was worse, would make me go with her; and that, atan hour's warning; for she said nothing of it to me, till she was risingin the morning early, resolving to return again at night. Had there beenmore time for argumentation, to be sure I had not gone; but as it was,there was a kind of necessity that my preparation to obey her, should,in a manner, accompany her command.--A command so much out of the way,on such a solemn occasion! And this I represented: but to no purpose:There never was such a contradicting girl in the world--My wisdomalways made her a fool!--But she would be obliged this time, proper orimproper.
I have but one way of accounting for this sudden whim of my mother; andthat is this--She had a mind to accept of Mr. Hickman's offer to escorther:--and I verily believe [I wish I were quite sure of it] had a mindto oblige him with my company--as far as I know, to keep me out ofworse.
For, would you believe it?--as sure as you are alive, she is afraid forher favourite Hickman, because of the long visit your Lovelace, thoughso much by accident, made me in her absence, last time she was at thesame place. I hope, my dear, you are not jealous too. But indeed Inow-and-then, when she teases me with praises which Hickman cannotdeserve, in return fall to praising those qualities and personalities inLovelace, which the other never will have. Indeed I do love to tease alittle bit, that I do.--My mamma's girl--I had like to have said.
As you know she is as passionate, as I am pert, you will not wonder tobe told, that we generally fall out on these occasions. She flies fromme, at the long run. It would be undutiful in me to leave her first--andthen I get an opportunity to pursue our correspondence.
For, now I am rambling, let me tell you, that she does not much favourthat;--for two reasons, I believe:--One, that I don't shew her all thatpasses between us; the other, that she thinks I harden your mind againstyour duty, as it is called. And with her, for a reason at home, as Ihave hinted more than once, parents cannot do wrong; children cannotoppose, and be right. This obliges me now-and-then to steal an hour, asI may say, and not let her know how I am employed.
You may guess from what I have written, how averse I was to comply withsuch an unreasonable stretch of motherly authority. But it came to be atest of duty; so I was obliged to yield, though with a full persuasionof being in the right.
I have always your reproofs upon these occasions: in your late lettersstronger than ever. A good reason why, you'll say, because more deservedthan ever. I thank you kindly for your correction. I hope to makecorrection of it. But let me tell you, that your stripes, whetherdeserved or not, have made me sensible, deeper than the skin--but ofthis another time.
It was Monday afternoon before we reached the old lady's house. Thatfiddling, parading fellow [you know who I mean] made us wait for him twohours, and I to go to a journey I disliked! only for the sake of havinga little more tawdry upon his housings; which he had hurried his sadlerto put on, to make him look fine, being to escort his dear Madam Howe,and her fair daughter. I told him, that I supposed he was afraid, thatthe double solemnity in the case (that of the visit to a dying woman,and that of his own countenance) would give him the appearance of anundertaker; to avoid which, he ran into as bad an extreme, and I doubtedwould be taken for a mountebank.
The man was confounded. He took it as strongly, as if his consciencegave assent to the justice of the remark: otherwise he would have borneit better; for he is used enough to this sort of treatment. I thought hewould have cried. I have heretofore observed, that on this side of thecontract, he seems to be a mighty meek sort of creature. And though Ishould like it in him hereafter perhaps, yet I can't help despising hima little in my heart for it now. I believe, my dear, we all love yourblustering fellows best; could we but direct the bluster, and bid itroar when and at whom we pleased.
The poor man looked at my mother. She was so angry, (my airs upon it,and my opposition to the journey, have all helped,) that for half theway she would not speak to me. And when she did, it was, I wish I hadnot brought you! You know not what it is to condescend. It is my fault,not Mr. Hickman's, that you are here so much against your will. Have youno eyes for this side of the chariot?
And then he fared the better from her, as he always does, for faringworse from me: for there was, How do you now, Sir? And how do you now,Mr. Hickman? as he ambled now on this side of the chariot, now on that,stealing a prim look at me; her head half out of the chariot, kindlysmiling, as if married to the man but a fortnight herself: while Ialways saw something to divert myself on the side of the chariot wherethe honest man was not, were it but old Robin at a distance, on his roanKeffel.
Our courtship-days, they say, are our best days. Favour destroyscourtship. Distance increases it. Its essence is distance. And, to seehow familiar these men-wretches grow upon a smile, what an awe they arestruck into when we frown; who would not make them stand off? Who wouldnot enjoy a power, that is to be short-lived?
Don't chide me one bit for this, my dear. It is in nature. I can't helpit. Nay, for that matter, I love it, and wish not to help it. So spareyour gravity, I beseech you on this subject. I set up not for a perfectcharacter. The man will bear it. And what need you care? My motheroverbalances all he suffers: And if he thinks himself unhappy, he oughtnever to be otherwise.
Then did he not deserve a fit of the sullens, think you, to make us loseour dinner for his parade, since in so short a journey my mother wouldnot bait, and lose the opportunity of coming back that night, had theold lady's condition permitted it? To say nothing of being the cause,that my mamma was in the glout with her poor daughter all the way.
At our alighting I gave him another dab; but it was but a little one.Yet the manner, and the air, made up (as I intended they should) forthat defect. My mother's hand was kindly put into his, with a simperingaltogether bridal; and with another How do you now, Sir?--All his plumpmuscles were in motion, and a double charge of care and obsequiousnessfidgeted up his whole form, when he offered to me his officious palm.My mother, when I was a girl, always bid me hold up my head. I just thenremembered her commands, and was dutiful--I never held up my head sohigh. With an averted supercilious eye, and a rejecting hand, halfflourishing--I have no need of help, Sir!--You are in my way.
He ran back, as if on wheels; with a face excessively mortified: I hadthoughts else to have followed the too-gentle touch, with a declaration,that I had as many hands and feet as himself. But this would have beentelling him a piece of news, as to the latter, that I hope he had notthe presumption to guess at.
*****
We found the poor woman, as we thought, at the last gasp. Had we comesooner, we could not have got away as we intended, that night. You see Iam for excusing the man all I can; and yet, I assure you, I have not somuch as a conditional liking to him. My mother sat up most part of thenight, expecting every hour would have
been her poor cousin's last. Ibore her company till two.
I never saw the approaches of death in a grown person before; and wasextremely shocked. Death, to one in health, is a very terrible thing. Wepity the person for what she suffers: and we pity ourselves for what wemust some time hence in like sort suffer; and so are doubly affected.
She held out till Tuesday morning, eleven. As she had told my motherthat she had left her an executrix, and her and me rings and mourning;we were employed all that day in matters of the will [by which, by theway, my own cousin Jenny Fynnett is handsomely provided for], so that itwas Wednesday morning early, before we could set out on our return.
It is true, we got home (having no housings to stay for) by noon: butthough I sent Robin away before he dismounted, (who brought me backa whole packet, down to the same Wednesday noon,) yet was I really sofatigued, and shocked, as I must own, at the hard death of the oldlady; my mother likewise (who has no reason to dislike this world) beingindisposed from the same occasion; that I could not set about writingtime enough for Robin's return that night.
But having recruited my spirits, my mother having also had a good night,I arose with the dawn, to write this, and get it dispatched time enoughfor your breakfast airing; that your suspense might be as short aspossible.
*****
I will soon follow this with another. I will employ a person directlyto find out how Lovelace behaves himself at his inn. Such a busy spiritmust be traceable.
But, perhaps, my dear, you are indifferent now about him, or hisemployments; for this request was made before he mortally offended you.Nevertheless, I will have inquiry made. The result, it is very probable,will be of use to confirm you in your present unforgiving temper.--Andyet, if the poor man [shall I pity him for you, my dear?] should bedeprived of the greatest blessing any man on earth can receive, and towhich he has the presumption, with so little merit, to aspire; he willhave run great risks; caught great colds; hazarded fevers; sustainedthe highest indignities; braved the inclemencies of skies, and allfor--nothing!--Will not this move your generosity (if nothing else) inhis favour!--Poor Mr. Lovelace--!
I would occasion no throb; nor half-throb; no flash of sensibility, likelightning darting in, and as soon suppressed by a discretion that noone of the sex ever before could give such an example of--I would not,I say; and yet, for such a trial of you to yourself, rather than as animpertinent overflow of raillery in your friend, as money-takers try asuspected guinea by the sound, let me on such a supposition, sound you,by repeating, poor Mr. Lovelace!
And now, my dear, how is it with you? How do you now, as my mother saysto Mr. Hickman, when her pert daughter has made him look sorrowful?
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2 Page 23
