Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2

by Samuel Richardson

  LETTER XXXIV

  MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY EVENING; AND CONTINUEDTHROUGH THE NIGHT.

  Well, my dear, I am alive, and here! but how long I shall be eitherhere, or alive, I cannot say. I have a vast deal to write; and perhapsshall have little time for it. Nevertheless, I must tell you how thesaucy Betty again discomposed me, when she came up with this Solmes'smessage; although, as you will remember from my last, I was in a waybefore that wanted no additional surprises.

  Miss! Miss! Miss! cried she, as fast as she could speak, with her armsspread abroad, and all her fingers distended, and held up, will you bepleased to walk down into your own parlour?--There is every body, I willassure you in full congregation!--And there is Mr. Solmes, as fine as alord, with a charming white peruke, fine laced shirt and ruffles, coattrimmed with silver, and a waistcoat standing on end with lace!--Quitehandsome, believe me!--You never saw such an alteration!--Ah! Miss,shaking her head, 'tis pity you have said so much against him! but youwill know how to come off for all that!--I hope it will not be too late!

  Impertinence! said I--Wert thou bid to come up in this flutteringway?--and I took up my fan, and fanned myself.

  Bless me! said she, how soon these fine young ladies will be put intoflusterations!--I mean not either to offend or frighten you, I amsure.--

  Every body there, do you say?--Who do you call every body?

  Why, Miss, holding out her left palm opened, and with a flourish, anda saucy leer, patting it with the fore finger of the other, at everymentioned person, there is your papa!--there is your mamma!--there isyour uncle Harlowe!--there is your uncle Antony!--your aunt Hervey!--myyoung lady!--and my young master!--and Mr. Solmes, with the air of agreat courtier, standing up, because he named you:--Mrs. Betty, said he,[then the ape of a wench bowed and scraped, as awkwardly as I supposethe person did whom she endeavoured to imitate,] pray give my humbleservice to Miss, and tell her, I wait her commands.

  Was not this a wicked wench?--I trembled so, I could hardly stand. I wasspiteful enough to say, that her young mistress, I supposed, bid her puton these airs, to frighten me out of a capacity of behaving so calmly asshould procure me my uncles' compassion.

  What a way do you put yourself in, Miss, said the insolent!--Come, dearMadam, taking up my fan, which I had laid down, and approaching me withit, fanning, shall I--

  None of thy impertinence!--But say you, all my friends are below withhim? And am I to appear before them all?

  I can't tell if they'll stay when you come. I think they seemed to bemoving when Mr. Solmes gave me his orders.--But what answer shall Icarry to the 'squire?

  Say, I can't go!--but yet when 'tis over, 'tis over!--Say, I'll waitupon--I'll attend--I'll come presently--say anything; I care notwhat--but give me my fan, and fetch me a glass of water--

  She went, and I fanned myself all the time; for I was in a flame; andhemmed, and struggled with myself all I could; and, when she returned,drank my water; and finding no hope presently of a quieter heart, I senther down, and followed her with precipitation; trembling so, that, hadI not hurried, I question if I could have got down at all.--Oh my dear,what a poor, passive machine is the body when the mind is disordered!

  There are two doors to my parlour, as I used to call it. As I enteredone, my friends hurried out the other. I just saw the gown of my sister,the last who slid away. My uncle Antony went out with them: but he staidnot long, as you shall hear; and they all remained in the next parlour,a wainscot partition only parting the two. I remember them both in one:but they were separated in favour of us girls, for each to receive hervisitors in at her pleasure.

  Mr. Solmes approached me as soon as I entered, cringing to the ground,a visible confusion in every feature of his face. After half a dozenchoaked-up Madams,--he was very sorry--he was very much concerned--itwas his misfortune--and there he stopped, being unable presently tocomplete a sentence.

  This gave me a little more presence of mind. Cowardice in a foe begetscourage in one's self--I see that plainly now--yet perhaps, at bottom,the new-made bravo is a greater coward than the other.

  I turned from him, and seated myself in one of the fireside chairs,fanning myself. I have since recollected, that I must have lookedvery saucily. Could I have had any thoughts of the man, I should havedespised myself for it. But what can be said in the case of an aversionso perfectly sincere?

  He hemmed five or six times, as I had done above; and these produced asentence--that I could not but see his confusion. This sentence producedtwo or three more. I believe my aunt had been his tutoress; for it washis awe, his reverence for so superlative a Lady [I assure you!] And hehoped--he hoped--three times he hoped, before he told me what--atlast it came out, that I was too generous (generosity, he said, was mycharacter) to despise him for such--for such--for such--true tokens ofhis love.

  I do indeed see you under some confusion, Sir; and this gives me hope,that although I have been compelled, as I may call it, to give wayto this interview, it may be attended with happier effects than I hadapprehended from it.

  He had hemmed himself into more courage.

  You could not, Madam, imagine any creature so blind to your merits,and so little attracted by them, as easily to forego the interest andapprobation he was honoured with by your worthy family, while he hadany hope given him, that one day he might, by his perseverance and zeal,expect your favour.

  I am but too much aware, Sir, that it is upon the interest andapprobation you mention, that you build such hope. It is impossibleotherwise, that a man, who has any regard for his own happiness, wouldpersevere against such declarations as I have made, and think myselfobliged to make, in justice to you, as well as to myself.

  He had seen many instances, he told me, and had heard of more, whereladies had seemed as averse, and yet had been induced, some by motivesof compassion, others by persuasion of friends, to change their minds;and had been very happy afterwards: and he hoped this might be the casehere.

  I have no notion, Sir, of compliment, in an article of such importanceas this: yet I am sorry to be obliged to speak my mind so plainly as Iam going to do.--Know then, that I have invincible objections, Sir, toyour address. I have avowed them with an earnestness that I believe iswithout example: and why?--because I believe it is without example thatany young creature, circumstanced as I am, was ever treated as I havebeen treated on your account.

  It is hoped, Madam, that your consent may in time be obtained--that isthe hope; and I shall be a miserable man if it cannot.

  Better, Sir, give me leave to say, you were miserable by yourself, thanthat you should make two so.

  You may have heard, Madam, things to my disadvantage. No man is withoutenemies. Be pleased to let me know what you have heard, and I willeither own my faults, and amend; or I will convince you that I am baselybespattered: and once I understand you overheard something that I shouldsay, that gave you offence: unguardedly, perhaps; but nothing but whatshewed my value, and that I would persist so long as I have hope.

  I have indeed heard many things to your disadvantage:--and I was farfrom being pleased with what I overheard fall from your lips: but as youwere not any thing to me, and never could be, it was not for me to beconcerned about the one or the other.

  I am sorry, Madam, to hear this. I am sure you should not tell me of myfault, that I would be unwilling to correct in myself.

  Then, Sir, correct this fault--do not wish to have a young creaturecompelled in the most material article of her life, for the sake ofmotives she despises; and in behalf of a person she cannot value: onethat has, in her own right, sufficient to set her above all your offers,and a spirit that craves no more than what it has, to make itself easyand happy.

  I don't see, Madam, how you would be happy, if I were to discontinue myaddress: for--

  That is nothing to you, Sir, interrupted I: do you but withdraw yourpretensions: and if it will be thought fit to start up another man formy punishment, the blame will not lie at your door. You will be entitledto my th
anks, and most heartily will I thank you.

  He paused, and seemed a little at a loss: and I was going to give himstill stronger and more personal instances of my plain-dealing; when incame my uncle Antony.

  So, Niece, so!--sitting in state like a queen, giving audience! haughtyaudience!--Mr. Solmes, why stand you thus humbly?--Why this distance,man? I hope to see you upon a more intimate footing before we part.

  I arose, as soon as he entered--and approached him with a bend knee: Letme, Sir, reverence my uncle, whom I have not for so long time seen!--Letme, Sir, bespeak your favour and compassion.

  You will have the favour of every body, Niece, when you know how todeserve it.

  If ever I deserved it, I deserve it now.--I have been hardly used!--Ihave made proposals that ought to be accepted, and such as would nothave been asked of me. What have I done, that I must be banished andconfined thus disgracefully? that I must not be allowed to have anyfree-will in an article that concerns my present and future happiness?--

  Miss Clary, replied my uncle, you have had your will in every thing tillnow; and this makes your parents' will sit so heavy upon you.

  My will, Sir! be pleased to allow me to ask, what was my will till now,but my father's will, and yours and my uncle Harlowe's will?--Has it notbeen my pride to obey and oblige?--I never asked a favour, that I didnot first sit down and consider, if it were fit to be granted. And now,to shew my obedience, have I not offered to live single?--Have I notoffered to divest myself of my grandfather's bounty, and to cast myselfupon my father's! and that to be withdrawn, whenever I disoblige him?Why, dear, good Sir, am I to be made unhappy in a point so concerning myhappiness?

  Your grandfather's estate is not wished from you. You are not desiredto live a single life. You know our motives, and we guess at yours. And,let me tell you, well as we love you, we should much sooner choose tofollow you to the grave, than that yours should take place.

  I will engage never to marry any man, without my father's consent, andyours, Sir, and every body's. Did I ever give you cause to doubt myword?--And here I will take the solemnest oath that can be offered me--

  That is the matrimonial one, interrupted he, with a big voice--and tothis gentleman.--It shall, it shall, cousin Clary!--And the more youoppose it, the worse it shall be for you.

  This, and before the man, who seemed to assume courage upon it, highlyprovoked me.

  Then, Sir, you shall sooner follow me to the grave indeed.--I willundergo the cruelest death--I will even consent to enter into that awfulvault of my ancestors, and have that bricked up upon me, rather thanconsent to be miserable for life. And, Mr. Solmes, turning to him, takenotice of what I say: This or any death, I will sooner undergo [thatwill quickly be over] than be yours, and for ever unhappy!

  My uncle was in a terrible rage upon this. He took Mr. Solmes by thehand, shocked as the man seemed to be, and drew him to the window--Don'tbe surprised, Mr. Solmes, don't be concerned at this. We know, and raptout a sad oath, what women will say in their wrath: the wind is not moreboisterous, nor more changeable; and again he swore to that.--If youthink it worthwhile to wait for such an ungrateful girl as this, I'llengage she'll veer about; I'll engage she shall. And a third timeviolently swore to it.

  Then coming up to me (who had thrown myself, very much disordered by myvehemence, into the most distant window) as if he would have beat me;his face violently working, his hands clinched, and his teeth set--Yes,yes, yes, you shall, Cousin Clary, be Mr. Solmes's wife; we will seethat you shall; and this in one week at farthest.--And then a fourthtime he confirmed it!--Poor gentleman! how he swore!

  I am sorry, Sir, said I, to see you in such a passion. All this, I ambut too sensible, is owing to my brother's instigation; who would nothimself give the instance of duty that is sought to be exacted from me.It is best for me to withdraw. I shall but provoke you farther, I fear:for although I would gladly obey you if I could, yet this is a pointdetermined with me; and I cannot so much as wish to get over it.

  How could I avoid making these strong declarations, the man in presence?

  I was going out at the door I came in at; the gentlemen looking upon oneanother, as if referring to each other what to do, or whether to engagemy stay, or suffer me to go; and whom should I meet at the door but mybrother, who had heard all that had passed!

  He bolted upon me so unexpectedly, that I was surprised. He took myhand, and grasped it with violence: Return, pretty Miss, said he;return, if you please. You shall not yet be bricked up. Your instigatingbrother shall save you from that!--O thou fallen angel, said he, peeringup to my downcast face--such a sweetness here!--and such an obstinacythere! tapping my neck--O thou true woman--though so young!--But youshall not have your rake: remember that; in a loud whisper, as if hewould be decently indecent before the man. You shall be redeemed, andthis worthy gentleman, raising his voice, will be so good as to redeemyou from ruin--and hereafter you will bless him, or have reason to blesshim, for his condescension; that was the brutal brother's word!

  He had led me up to meet Mr. Solmes, whose hand he took, as he heldmine. Here, Sir, said he, take the rebel daughter's hand: I give it younow: she shall confirm the gift in a week's time; or will have neitherfather, mother, nor uncles, to boast of.

  I snatched my hand away.

  How now, Miss--!

  And how now, Sir!--What right have you to dispose of my hand?--If yougovern every body else, you shall not govern me; especially in a pointso immediately relative to myself, and in which you neither have, norever shall have, any thing to do.

  I would have broken from him; but he held my hand too fast.

  Let me go, Sir!--Why am I thus treated?--You design, I doubt not, withyour unmanly gripings, to hurt me, as you do: But again I ask, whereforeis it that I am to be thus treated by you?

  He tossed my hand from him with a whirl, that pained my very shoulder. Iwept, and held my other hand to the part.

  Mr. Solmes blamed him. So did my uncle.

  He had no patience, he said, with such a perverse one; and to think ofthe reflections upon himself, before he entered. He had only given meback the hand I had not deserved he should touch. It was one of my artsto pretend to be so pained.

  Mr. Solmes said, he would sooner give up all his hopes of me, than thatI should be used unkindly.--And he offered to plead in my behalf to themboth; and applied himself with a bow, as if for my approbation of hisinterposition.

  Interpose not, Mr. Solmes, said I, to save me from my brother'sviolence. I cannot wish to owe an obligation to a man whose ungenerousperseverance is the occasion of that violence, and of all my disgracefulsufferings.

  How generous in you, Mr. Solmes, said my brother, to interpose so kindlyin behalf of such an immovable spirit! I beg of you to persist in youraddress--the unnatural brother called it address!--For all our family'ssake, and for her sake too, if you love her, persist!--Let us save her,if possible, from ruining herself. Look at her person! [and he gazed atme, from head to foot, pointing at me, as he referred to Mr. Solmes,]think of her fine qualities!--all the world confesses them, and we allgloried in her till now. She is worth saving; and, after two or threemore struggles, she will be yours, and take my word for it, will rewardyour patience. Talk not, therefore, of giving up your hopes, for alittle whining folly. She has entered upon a parade, which she knowsnot how to quit with a female grace. You have only her pride and herobstinacy to encounter: and depend upon it, you will be as happy a manin a fortnight, as a married man can be.

  You have heard me say, my dear, that my brother has always taken aliberty to reflect upon our sex, and upon matrimony!--He would not, ifhe did not think it wit to do so!--Just as poor Mr. Wyerley, and others,whom we both know, profane and ridicule scripture; and all to evincetheir pretensions to the same pernicious talent, and to have it thoughtthey are too wise to be religious.

  Mr. Solmes, with a self-satisfied air, presumptuously said, he wouldsuffer every thing, to oblige my family, and to save me: and doubted notto be amply rewarded, co
uld he be so happy as to succeed at last.

  Mr. Solmes, said I, if you have any regard for your own happiness, (mineis out of the question with you, you have not generosity enough to makethat any part of your scheme,) prosecute no father your address, as mybrother calls it. It is but too just to tell you, that I could not bringmy heart so much as to think of you, without the utmost disapprobation,before I was used as I have been:--And can you think I am such a slave,such a poor slave, as to be brought to change my mind by the violentusage I have met with?

  And you, Sir, turning to my brother, if you think that meekness alwaysindicates tameness; and that there is no magnanimity without bluster;own yourself mistaken for once: for you shall have reason to judge fromhenceforth, that a generous mind is not to be forced; and that--

  No more, said the imperious wretch, I charge you, lifting up his handsand eyes. Then turning to my uncle, Do you hear, Sir? this is your oncefaultless niece! This is your favourite!

  Mr. Solmes looked as if he know not what to think of the matter; and hadI been left alone with him, I saw plainly I could have got rid of himeasily enough.

  My uncle came to me, looking up also to my face, and down to my feet:and is it possible this can be you? All this violence from you, MissClary?

  Yes, it is possible, Sir--and, I will presume to say, this vehemence onmy side is but the natural consequence of the usage I have met with, andthe rudeness I am treated with, even in your presence, by a brother, whohas no more right to controul me, than I have to controul him.

  This usage, cousin Clary, was not till all other means were tried withyou.

  Tried! to what end, Sir?--Do I contend for any thing more than a merenegative? You may, Sir, [turning to Mr. Solmes,] possibly you may beinduced the rather to persevere thus ungenerously, as the usage I havemet with for your sake, and what you have now seen offered to me by mybrother, will shew you what I can bear, were my evil destiny ever tomake me yours.

  Lord, Madam, cried Solmes, [all this time distorted into twentydifferent attitudes, as my brother and my uncle were blessingthemselves, and speaking only to each other by their eyes, and by theirworking features; Lord, Madam,] what a construction is this!

  A fair construction, Sir, interrupted I: for he that can see a person,whom he pretends to value, thus treated, and approve of it, must becapable of treating her thus himself. And that you do approve of it,is evident by your declared perseverance, when you know I am confined,banished, and insulted, in order to make me consent to be what I nevercan be: and this, let me tell you, as I have often told others, not frommotives of obstinacy, but aversion.

  Excuse me, Sir, turning to my uncle--to you, as to my father's brother,I owe duty. I beg your pardon, but my brother; he shall not constrainme.--And [turning to the unnatural wretch--I will call him wretch] knityour brows, Sir, and frown all you will, I will ask you, would you, inmy case, make the sacrifices I am willing to make, to obtain every one'sfavour? If not, what right have you to treat me thus; and to procure meto be treated as I have been for so long a time past?

  I had put myself by this time into great disorder: they were silent, andseemed by their looks to want to talk to one another (walking about inviolent disorders too) between whiles. I sat down fanning myself, (asit happened, against the glass,) and I could perceive my colour go andcome; and being sick to the very heart, and apprehensive of fainting, Irung.

  Betty came in. I called for a glass of water, and drank it: but nobodyminded me. I heard my brother pronounce the words, Art! Female Art!to Solmes; which, together with the apprehension that he would not bewelcome, I suppose kept him back. Else I could see the man was affected.And (still fearing I should faint) I arose, and taking hold of Betty'sarm, let me hold by you, Betty, said I: let me withdraw. And movedwith trembling feet towards the door, and then turned about, and made acourtesy to my uncle--Permit me, Sir, said I, to withdraw.

  Whither go you, Niece? said my uncle: we have not done with you yet.I charge you depart not. Mr. Solmes has something to open to you, thatwill astonish you--and you shall hear it.

  Only, Sir, by your leave, for a few minutes into the air. I will return,if you command it. I will hear all that I am to hear; that it may beover now and for ever.--You will go with me, Betty?

  And so, without any farther prohibition, I retired into the garden; andthere casting myself upon the first seat, and throwing Betty's apronover my face, leaning against her side, my hands between hers, I gaveway to a violent burst of grief, or passion, or both; which, as itseemed, saved my heart from breaking, for I was sensible of an immediaterelief.

  I have already given you specimens of Mrs. Betty's impertinence. I shallnot, therefore, trouble you with more: for the wench, notwithstandingthis my distress, took great liberties with me, after she saw me alittle recovered, and as I walked farther into the garden; insomuchthat I was obliged to silence her by an absolute prohibition of sayinganother word to me; and then she dropped behind me sullen and gloomy.

  It was near an hour before I was sent for in again. The messenger wasmy cousin Dolly Hervey, who, with an eye of compassion and respect, (forMiss Hervey always loved me, and calls herself my scholar, as you know,)told my company was desired.

  Betty left us.

  Who commands my attendance, Miss? said I--Have you not been in tears, mydear?

  Who can forbid tears? said she.

  Why, what is the matter, cousin Dolly?--Sure, nobody is entitled to weepin this family, but me!

  Yes, I am, Madam, said she, because I love you.

  I kissed her: And is it for me, my sweet Cousin, that you shedtears?--There never was love lost between us: but tell me, what isdesigned to be done with me, that I have this kind instance of yourcompassion for me?

  You must take no notice of what I tell you, said the dear girl: but mymamma has been weeping for you, too, with me; but durst not let any bodysee it: O my Dolly, said my mamma, there never was so set a malicein man as in your cousin James Harlowe. They will ruin the flower andornament of their family.

  As how, Miss Dolly?--Did she not explain herself?--As how, my dear?

  Yes; she said, Mr. Solmes would have given up his claim to you; for hesaid, you hated him, and there were no hopes; and your mamma was willinghe should; and to have you taken at your word, to renounce Mr. Lovelaceand to live single. My mamma was for it too; for they heard all thatpassed between you and uncle Antony, and cousin James; saying, it wasimpossible to think of prevailing upon you to have Mr. Solmes. UncleHarlowe seemed in the same way of thinking; at least, my mamma says hedid not say any thing to the contrary. But your papa was immovable, andwas angry at your mamma and mine upon it.--And hereupon your brother,your sister, and my uncle Antony, joined in, and changed the sceneentirely. In short, she says, that Mr. Solmes had great matters engagedto him. He owned, that you were the finest young lady in England, andhe would be content to be but little beloved, if he could not, aftermarriage, engage your heart, for the sake of having the honour to callyou his but for one twelvemonth--I suppose he would break your heart thenext--for he is a cruel-hearted man, I am sure.

  My friends may break my heart, cousin Dolly; but Mr. Solmes will neverhave it in his power to break it.

  I do not know that, Miss: you will have good luck to avoid having him,by what I can find; for my mamma says, they are all now of one mind,herself excepted; and she is forced to be silent, your papa and brotherare both so outrageous.

  I am got above minding my brother, cousin Dolly:--he is but my brother.But to my father I owe duty and obedience, if I could comply.

  We are apt to be fond of any body that will side with us, when oppressedor provoked. I always loved my cousin Dolly; but now she endearedherself to me ten times more, by her soothing concern for me. I askedwhat she would do, were she in my case?

  Without hesitation, she replied, have Mr. Lovelace out of hand, and takeup her own estate, if she were me; and there would be an end to it.--AndMr. Lovelace, she said, was a fine gentleman:--Mr. Solmes was not worthyto buckle his
shoes.

  Miss Hervey told me further, that her mother was desired to come to me,to fetch me in; but she excused herself. I should have all my friends,she said, she believed, sit in judgment upon me.

  I wish it had been so. But, as I have been told since, neither my fatherfor my mother would trust themselves with seeing me: the one it seemsfor passion sake; my mother for tender considerations.

  By this time we entered the house. Miss accompanied me into the parlour,and left me, as a person devoted, I then thought.

  Nobody was there. I sat down, and had leisure to weep; reflecting uponwhat my cousin Dolly had told me.

  They were all in my sister's parlour adjoining: for I heard a confusedmixture of voices, some louder than others, which drowned the morecompassionating accents.

  Female accents I could distinguish the drowned ones to be. O my dear!what a hard-hearted sex is the other! Children of the same parents, howcame they by their cruelty?--Do they get it by travel?--Do they getit by conversation with one another?--Or how do they get it?--Yet mysister, too, is as hard-hearted as any of them. But this may be noexception neither: for she has been thought to be masculine in her airand her spirit. She has then, perhaps, a soul of the other sex in a bodyof ours. And so, for the honour of our own, will I judge of everywoman for the future, who imitating the rougher manners of men, actsunbeseeming the gentleness of her own sex.

  Forgive me, my dear friend, for breaking into my story by thesereflections. Were I rapidly to pursue my narration, without thinking,without reflecting, I believe I should hardly be able to keep in myright mind: since vehemence and passion would then be always uppermost;but while I think as I write, I cool, and my hurry of spirits isallayed.

  I believe I was about a quarter of an hour enjoying my own comfortlesscontemplations, before any body came in to me; for they seemed to bein full debate. My aunt looked in first; O my dear, said she, are youthere? and withdrew hastily to apprize them of it.

  And then (as agreed upon I suppose) in came my uncle Antony, creditingMr. Solmes with the words, Let me lead you in, my dear friend, havinghold of his hand; while the new-made beau awkwardly followed, but moreedgingly, as I may say, setting his feet mincingly, to avoid treadingupon his leader's heels. Excuse me, my dear, this seeming levity; butthose we do not love, appear in every thing ungraceful to us.

  I stood up. My uncle looked very surly.--Sit down!--Sit down, Girl,said he.--And drawing a chair near me, he placed his dear friend in it,whether he would or not, I having taken my seat. And my uncle sat on theother side of me.

  Well, Niece, taking my hand, we shall have very little more to say toyou than we have already said, as to the subject that is so distastefulto you--unless, indeed, you have better considered of the matter--Andfirst let me know if you have?

  The matter wants no consideration, Sir.

  Very well, very well, Madam! said my uncle, withdrawing his hands frommine: Could I ever have thought of this from you?

  For God's sake, dearest Madam, said Mr. Solmes, folding his hands--Andthere he stopped.

  For God's sake, what, Sir?--How came God's sake, and your sake, I prayyou, to be the same?

  This silenced him. My uncle could only be angry; and that he was before.

  Well, well, well, Mr. Solmes, said my uncle, no more of supplication.You have not confidence enough to expect a woman's favour.

  He then was pleased to hint what great things he had designed to do forme; and that it was more for my sake, after he returned from the Indies,than for the sake of any other of the family, that he had resolvedto live a single life.--But now, concluded he, that the perverse girldespises all the great things it was once as much in my will, as it isin my power, to do for her, I will change my measures.

  I told him, that I most sincerely thanked him for all his kindintentions to me: but that I was willing to resign all claim to anyother of his favours than kind looks and kind words.

  He looked about him this way and that.

  Mr. Solmes looked pitifully down.

  But both being silent, I was sorry, I added, that I had too much reasonto say a very harsh thing, as I might be thought; which was, That ifhe would but be pleased to convince my brother and sister, that he wasabsolutely determined to alter his generous purposes towards me,it might possibly procure me better treatment from both, than I wasotherwise likely to have.

  My uncle was very much displeased. But he had not the opportunity toexpress his displeasure, as he seemed preparing to do; for in came mybrother in exceeding great wrath; and called me several vile names. Hissuccess hitherto, in his device against me, had set him above keepingeven decent measures.

  Was this my spiteful construction? he asked--Was this the interpretationI put upon his brotherly care of me, and concern for me, in order toprevent my ruining myself?

  It is, indeed it is, said I: I know no other way to account for yourlate behaviour to me: and before your face, I repeat my request to myuncle, and I will make it to my other uncle whenever I am permitted tosee him, that they will confer all their favours upon you, and upon mysister; and only make me happy (it is all I wish for!) in their kindlooks, and kind words.

  How they all gazed upon one another!--But could I be less peremptorybefore the man?

  And, as to your care and concern for me, Sir, turning to my brother;once more I desire it not. You are but my brother. My father and mother,I bless God, are both living; and were they not, you have given meabundant reason to say, that you are the very last person I would wishto have any concern for me.

  How, Niece! And is a brother, an only brother, of so littleconsideration with you, as this comes to? And ought he to have noconcern for his sister's honour, and the family's honour.

  My honour, Sir!--I desire none of his concern for that! It never wasendangered till it had his undesired concern!--Forgive me, Sir--but whenmy brother knows how to act like a brother, or behave like a gentleman,he may deserve more consideration from me than it is possible for me nowto think he does.

  I thought my brother would have beat me upon this: but my uncle stoodbetween us.

  Violent girl, however, he called me--Who, said he, who would havethought it of her?

  Then was Mr. Solmes told, that I was unworthy of his pursuit.

  But Mr. Solmes warmly took my part: he could not bear, he said, that Ishould be treated so roughly.

  And so very much did he exert himself on this occasion, and so patientlywas his warmth received by my brother, that I began to suspect, that itwas a contrivance to make me think myself obliged to him; and that thismight perhaps be one end of the pressed-for interview.

  The very suspicion of this low artifice, violent as I was thought to bebefore, put me still more out of patience; and my uncle and my brotheragain praising his wonderful generosity, and his noble return of goodfor evil, You are a happy man, Mr. Solmes, said I, that you canso easily confer obligations upon a whole family, except upon oneungrateful person of it, whom you seem to intend most to oblige; butwho being made unhappy by your favour, desires not to owe to you anyprotection from the violence of a brother.

  Then was I a rude, an ungrateful, and unworthy creature.

  I own it all--all, all you can call me, or think me, Brother, do I own.I own my unworthiness with regard to this gentleman. I take your wordfor his abundant merit, which I have neither leisure nor inclination toexamine into--it may perhaps be as great as your own--but yet I cannotthank him for his great mediation: For who sees not, looking at myuncle, that this is giving himself a merit with every body at myexpense?

  Then turning to my brother, who seemed surprised into silence by mywarmth, I must also acknowledge, Sir, the favour of your superabundantcare for me. But I discharge you of it; at least, while I have thehappiness of nearer and dearer relations. You have given me no reason tothink better of your prudence, than of my own. I am independent of you,Sir, though I never desire to be so of my father: and although I wishfor the good opinion of my uncles, it is all I wish for from them: andthis, Sir, I rep
eat, to make you and my sister easy.

  Instantly almost came in Betty, in a great hurry, looking at me asspitefully as if she were my sister: Sir, said she to my brother, mymaster desires to speak with you this moment at the door.

  He went to that which led into my sister's parlour; and this sentenceI heard thundered from the mouth of one who had a right to all myreverence: Son James, let the rebel be this moment carried away to mybrother's--this very moment--she shall not stay one hour more under myroof!

  I trembled; I was ready to sink. Yet, not knowing what I did, or said, Iflew to the door, and would have opened it: but my brother pulled it to,and held it close by the key--O my Papa!--my dear Papa! said I, fallingupon my knees, at the door--admit your child to your presence!--Let mebut plead my cause at your feet!--Oh! reprobate not thus your distresseddaughter!

  My uncle put his handkerchief to his eyes. Mr. Solmes made a still moregrievous face than he had before. But my brother's marble heart wasuntouched.

  I will not stir from my knees, continued I, without admission; at thisdoor I beg it!--Oh! let it be the door of mercy! and open it to me,honoured Sir, I beseech you!--But this once, this once! although youwere afterwards to shut it against me for ever!

  The door was endeavoured to be opened on the inside, which made mybrother let go the key on a sudden; and I pressing against it, (allthe time remaining on my knees,) fell flat on my face into the otherparlour; however without hurting myself. But every body was gone, exceptBetty, who I suppose was the person that endeavoured to open the door.She helped to raise me up; and when I was on my feet, I looked roundthat apartment, and seeing nobody there, re-entered the other, leaningupon her; and then threw myself into the chair which I had sat inbefore; and my eyes overflowed, to my great relief: while my uncleAntony, my brother, and Mr. Solmes, left me, and went to my otherrelations.

  What passed among them, I know not: but my brother came in by the timeI had tolerably recovered myself, with a settled and haughty gloom uponhis brow--Your father and mother command you instantly to prepare foryour uncle Antony's. You need not be solicitous about what you shalltake with you: you may give Betty your keys--Take them, Betty, if theperverse one has them about her, and carry them to her mother. She willtake care to send every thing after you that you shall want--but anothernight you will not be permitted to stay in this house.

  I don't choose to give my keys to any body, except to my mother, andinto her own hands.--You see how much I am disordered. It may cost memy life, to be hurried away so suddenly. I beg to be indulged till nextMonday at least.

  That will not be granted you. So prepare for this very very night.And give up your keys. Give them to me, Miss. I'll carry them to yourmother.

  Excuse me, Brother. Indeed I won't.

  Indeed you must. Have you any thing you are afraid should be seen byyour mother?

  Not if I be permitted to attend her.

  I'll make a report accordingly.

  He went out.

  In came Miss Dolly Hervey: I am sorry, Madam, to be the messenger--butyour mamma insists upon your sending up all the keys of your cabinet,library, and drawers.

  Tell my mother, that I yield them up to her commands: tell her, Imake no conditions with my mother: but if she finds nothing she shalldisapprove of, I beg that she will permit me to tarry here a few dayslonger.--Try, my Dolly, [the dear girl sobbing with grief;] try if yourgentleness cannot prevail for me.

  She wept still more, and said, It is sad, very sad, to see matters thuscarried!

  She took the keys, and wrapped her arms about me; and begged me toexcuse her for her message; and would have said more; but Betty'spresence awed her, as I saw.

  Don't pity me, my dear, said I. It will be imputed to you as a fault.You see who is by.

  The insolent wench scornfully smiled: One young lady pitying anotherin things of this nature, looks promising in the youngest, I must needssay.

  I bid her begone from my presence.

  She would most gladly go, she said, were she not to stay about me by mymother's order.

  It soon appeared for what she staid; for I offering to go up stairs tomy apartment when my cousin went from me with the keys, she told me shewas commanded (to her very great regret, she must own) to desire me notto go up at present.

  Such a bold face, as she, I told her, should not hinder me.

  She instantly rang the bell, and in came my brother, meeting me at thedoor.

  Return, return, Miss--no going up yet.

  I went in again, and throwing myself upon the window-seat, weptbitterly.

  Shall I give you the particulars of a ridiculously-spiteful conversationthat passed between my brother and me, in the time that he (withBetty) was in office to keep me in the parlour while my closet wassearching!--But I think I will not. It can answer no good end.

  I desired several times, while he staid, to have leave to retire to myapartment; but was denied. The search, I suppose, was not over.

  Bella was one of those employed in it. They could not have a morediligent searcher. How happy it was they were disappointed!

  But when my sister could not find the cunning creature's papers, I wasto stand another visit from Mr. Solmes--preceded now by my aunt Hervey,solely against her will, I could see that; accompanied by my uncleAntony, in order to keep her steady, I suppose.

  But being a little heavy (for it is now past two in the morning) Iwill lie down in my clothes, to indulge the kind summons, if it will beindulged.

  THREE O'CLOCK, WEDNESDAY MORNING.

  I could not sleep--Only dozed away one half-hour.

  My aunt Hervey accosted me thus:--O my dear child, what troubles do yougive to your parents, and to every body!--I wonder at you!

  I am sorry for it, Madam.

  Sorry for it, child!--Why then so very obstinate?--Come, sit down, mydear. I will sit next to you; taking my hand.

  My uncle placed Mr. Solmes on the other side of me: himself over-againstme, almost close to me. Was I not finely beset, my dear?

  Your brother, child, said my aunt, is too passionate--his zeal for yourwelfare pushes him on a little too vehemently.

  Very true, said my uncle: but no more of this. We would now be glad tosee if milder means will do with you--though, indeed, they were triedbefore.

  I asked my aunt, If it were necessary, that the gentleman should bepresent?

  There is a reason that he should, said my aunt, as you will hear by-andby.--But I must tell you, first, that, thinking you was a little tooangrily treated by your brother, your mother desired me to try whatgentler means would do upon a spirit so generous as we used to thinkyours.

  Nothing can be done, Madam, I must presume to say, if this gentleman'saddress be the end.

  She looked upon my uncle, who bit his lip; and looked upon Mr. Solmes,who rubbed his cheek; and shaking her head, Good, dear creature, saidshe, be calm. Let me ask you, If something would have been done, had youbeen more gently used, than you seem to think you have been?

  No, Madam, I cannot say it would, in this gentleman's favour. Youknow, Madam, you know, Sir, to my uncle, I ever valued myself upon mysincerity: and once indeed had the happiness to be valued for it.

  My uncle took Mr. Solmes aside. I heard him say, whispering, She must,she shall, still be yours.--We'll see, who'll conquer, parents or child,uncles or niece. I doubt not to be witness to all this being got over,and many a good-humoured jest made of this high phrensy!

  I was heartily vexed.

  Though we cannot find out, continued he, yet we guess, who puts her uponthis obstinate behaviour. It is not natural to her, man. Nor would Iconcern myself so much about her, but that I know what I say to be true,and intend to do great things for her.

  I will hourly pray for that happy time, whispered as audibly Mr. Solmes.I never will revive the remembrance of what is now so painful to me.

  Well, but, Niece, I am to tell you, said my aunt, that the sending upof the keys, without making any conditions, has wrought for you whatnothing else co
uld have done. That, and the not finding any thing thatcould give them umbrage, together with Mr. Solmes's interposition--

  O Madam, let me not owe an obligation to Mr. Solmes. I cannot repay it,except by my thanks; and those only on condition that he will declinehis suit. To my thanks, Sir, [turning to him,] if you have a heartcapable of humanity, if you have any esteem for me for my own sake, Ibeseech you to entitle yourself!--I beseech you, do--!

  O Madam, cried he, believe, believe, believe me, it is impossible. Whileyou are single, I will hope. While that hope is encouraged by so manyworthy friends, I must persevere. I must not slight them, Madam, becauseyou slight me.

  I answered him only with a look; but it was of high disdain; and turningfrom him,--But what favour, dear Madam, [to my aunt,] has the instanceof duty you mention procured me?

  Your mother and Mr. Solmes, replied my aunt, have prevailed, that yourrequest to stay here till Monday next shall be granted, if you willpromise to go cheerfully then.

  Let me but choose my own visiters, and I will go to my uncle's housewith pleasure.

  Well, Niece, said my aunt, we must wave this subject, I find. We willnow proceed to another, which will require your utmost attention. Itwill give you the reason why Mr. Solmes's presence is requisite--

  Ay, said my uncle, and shew you what sort of a man somebody is. Mr.Solmes, pray favour us, in the first place, with the letter you receivedfrom your anonymous friend.

  I will, Sir. And out he pulled a letter-case, and taking out a letter,it is written in answer to one, sent to the person. It is superscribed,To Roger Solmes, Esq. It begins thus: Honoured Sir--

  I beg your pardon, Sir, said I: but what, pray, is the intent of readingthis letter to me?

  To let you know what a vile man you are thought to have set your heartupon, said my uncle, in an audible whisper.

  If, Sir, it be suspected, that I have set my heart upon any other, whyis Mr. Solmes to give himself any further trouble about me?

  Only hear, Niece, said my aunt; only hear what Mr. Solmes has to readand to say to you on this head.

  If, Madam, Mr. Solmes will be pleased to declare, that he has no viewto serve, no end to promote, for himself, I will hear any thing he shallread. But if the contrary, you must allow me to say, that it will abatewith me a great deal of the weight of whatever he shall produce.

  Hear it but read, Niece, said my aunt--

  Hear it read, said my uncle. You are so ready to take part with--

  With any body, Sir, that is accused anonymously, and from interestedmotives.

  He began to read; and there seemed to be a heavy load of charges in thisletter against the poor criminal: but I stopped the reading of it,and said, It will not be my fault, if this vilified man be not asindifferent to me, as one whom I never saw. If he be otherwise atpresent, which I neither own, nor deny, it proceed from the strangemethods taken to prevent it. Do not let one cause unite him and me, andwe shall not be united. If my offer to live single be accepted, he shallbe no more to me than this gentleman.

  Still--Proceed, Mr. Solmes--Hear it out, Niece, was my uncle's cry.

  But to what purpose, Sir! said I--Had not Mr. Solmes a view in this?And, besides, can any thing worse be said of Mr. Lovelace, than I haveheard said for several months past?

  But this, said my uncle, and what Mr. Solmes can tell you besides,amounts to the fullest proof--

  Was the unhappy man, then, so freely treated in his character before,without full proof? I beseech you, Sir, give me not too good an opinionof Mr. Lovelace; as I may have, if such pains be taken to make himguilty, by one who means not his reformation by it; nor to do good, if Imay presume to say so in this case, to any body but himself.

  I see very plainly, girl, said my uncle, your prepossession, your fondprepossession, for the person of a man without morals.

  Indeed, my dear, said my aunt, you too much justify all yourapprehension. Surprising! that a young creature of virtue and honourshould thus esteem a man of a quite opposite character!

  Dear Madam, do not conclude against me too hastily. I believe Mr.Lovelace is far from being so good as he ought to be: but if every man'sprivate life was searched into by prejudiced people, set on for thatpurpose, I know not whose reputation would be safe. I love a virtuouscharacter, as much in man as in woman. I think it is requisite, and asmeritorious, in the one as in the other. And, if left to myself, I wouldprefer a person of such a character to royalty without it.

  Why then, said my uncle--

  Give me leave, Sir--but I may venture to say, that many of those whohave escaped censure, have not merited applause.

  Permit me to observe further, That Mr. Solmes himself may not beabsolutely faultless. I never head of his virtues. Some vices I haveheard of--Excuse me, Mr. Solmes, I speak to your face--The text aboutcasting the first stone affords an excellent lesson.

  He looked down; but was silent.

  Mr. Lovelace may have vices you have not. You may have others, whichhe has not. I speak not this to defend him, or to accuse you. No man isbad, no one is good, in every thing. Mr. Lovelace, for example, is saidto be implacable, and to hate my friends: that does not make me valuehim the more: but give me leave to say, that they hate him as much. Mr.Solmes has his antipathies, likewise; very strong ones, and those to hisown relations; which I don't find to be the other's fault; for he liveswell with his--yet he may have as bad:--worse, pardon me, he cannothave, in my poor opinion: for what must be the man, who hates his ownflesh?

  You know not, Madam; You know not, Niece; all in one breath. You knownot, Clary;

  I may not, nor do I desire to know Mr. Solmes's reasons. It concerns notme to know them: but the world, even the impartial part of it, accuseshim. If the world is unjust or rash, in one man's case, why may it notbe so in another's? That's all I mean by it. Nor can there by a greatersign of want of merit, than where a man seeks to pull down another'scharacter, in order to build up his own.

  The poor man's face was all this time overspread with confusion,twisted, as it were, and all awry, neither mouth nor nose standing inthe middle of it. He looked as if he were ready to cry: and had he beencapable of pitying me, I had certainly tried to pity him.

  They all three gazed upon one another in silence.

  My aunt, I saw (at least I thought so) looked as if she would have beenglad she might have appeared to approve of what I said. She but feeblyblamed me, when she spoke, for not hearing what Mr. Solmes had to say.He himself seemed not now very earnest to be heard. My uncle said,There was no talking to me. And I should have absolutely silenced bothgentlemen, had not my brother come in again to their assistance.

  This was the strange speech he made at his entrance, his eyes flamingwith anger; This prating girl, has struck you all dumb, I perceive.Persevere, however, Mr. Solmes. I have heard every word she has said:and I know of no other method of being even with her, than after she isyours, to make her as sensible of your power, as she now makes you ofher insolence.

  Fie, cousin Harlowe! said my aunt--Could I have thought a brother wouldhave said this, to a gentleman, of a sister?

  I must tell you, Madam, said he, that you give the rebel courage.You yourself seem to favour too much the arrogance of her sex inher; otherwise she durst not have thus stopped her uncle's mouth byreflections upon him; as well as denied to hear a gentleman tell herthe danger she is in from a libertine, whose protection, as she plainlyhinted, she intends to claim against her family.

  Stopped my uncle's mouth, by reflections upon him, Sir! said I, how canthat be! how dare you to make such an application as this!

  My aunt wept at his reflection upon her.--Cousin, said she to him, ifthis be the thanks I have for my trouble, I have done: your fatherwould not treat me thus--and I will say, that the hint you gave was anunbrotherly one.

  Not more unbrotherly than all the rest of his conduct to me, of late,Madam, said I. I see by this specimen of his violence, how every bodyhas been brought into his measures. Had I any the least apprehension ofever being i
n Mr. Solmes's power, this might have affected me. But yousee, Sir, to Mr. Solmes, what a conduct is thought necessary to enableyou to arrive at your ungenerous end. You see how my brother courts foryou.

  I disclaim Mr. Harlowe's violence, Madam, with all my soul. I will neverremind you--

  Silence, worthy Sir, said I; I will take care you never shall have theopportunity.

  Less violence, Clary, said my uncle. Cousin James, you are as much toblame as your sister.

  In then came my sister. Brother, said she, you kept not your promise.You are thought to be to blame within, as well as here. Were not Mr.Solmes's generosity and affection to the girl well known, what you saidwould have been inexcusable. My father desires to speak with you; andwith you, Mr. Solmes, if you please.

  They all four withdrew into the next apartment.

  I stood silent, as not knowing presently how to take this interventionof my sister's. But she left me not long at a loss--O thou perversething, said she [poking out her angry face at me, when they were allgone, but speaking spitefully low]--what trouble do you give to us all!

  You and my brother, Bella, said I, give trouble to yourselves; yetneither you nor he have any business to concern yourselves about me.

  She threw out some spiteful expressions, still in a low voice, as if shechose not to be heard without; and I thought it best to oblige her toraise her tone a little, if I could. If I could, did I say? It is easyto make a passionate spirit answer all one's views upon it.

  She accordingly flamed out in a raised tone: and this brought my cousinDolly in to us. Miss Harlowe, your company is desired.

  I will come presently, cousin Dolly.

  But again provoking a severity from me which she could not bear, andcalling me names! in once more come Dolly, with another message, thather company was desired.

  Not mine, I doubt, Miss Dolly, said I.

  The sweet-tempered girl burst out into tears, and shook her head.

  Go in before me, child, said Bella, [vexed to see her concern for me,]with thy sharp face like a new moon: What dost thou cry for? is it tomake thy keen face look still keener?

  I believe Bella was blamed, too, when she went in; for I heard her say,the creature was so provoking, there was no keeping a resolution.

  Mr. Solmes, after a little while, came in again by himself, to takeleave of me: full of scrapes and compliments; but too well tutored andencouraged, to give me hope of his declining his suit. He begged menot to impute to him any of the severe things to which he had been asorrowful witness. He besought my compassion, as he called it.

  He said, the result was, that he still had hopes given him; and,although discouraged by me, he was resolved to persevere, while Iremained single.--And such long and such painful services he talked of,as never before were heard of.

  I told him in the strongest manner, what he had to trust to.

  Yet still he determined to persist.--While I was no man's else, he musthope.

  What! said I, will you still persist, when I declare, as I do now, thatmy affections are engaged?--And let my brother make the most of it.

  He knew my principles, and adored me for them. He doubted not, that itwas in his power to make me happy: and he was sure I would not want thewill to be so.

  I assured him, that were I to be carried to my uncle's, it should answerno end; for I would never see him; nor receive a line from him; nor heara word in his favour, whoever were the person who should mention him tome.

  He was sorry for it. He must be miserable, were I to hold in that mind.But he doubted not, that I might be induced by my father and uncles tochange it--

  Never, never, he might depend upon it.

  It was richly worth his patience, and the trial.

  At my expense?--At the price of all my happiness, Sir?

  He hoped I should be induced to think otherwise.

  And then would he have run into his fortune, his settlements, hisaffection--vowing, that never man loved a woman with so sincere apassion as he loved me.

  I stopped him, as to the first part of his speech: and to the second,of the sincerity of his passion, What then, Sir, said I, is your love toone, who must assure you, that never young creature looked upon man witha more sincere disapprobation, than I look upon you? And tell me,what argument can you urge, that this true declaration answers notbefore-hand?

  Dearest Madam, what can I say?--On my knees I beg--

  And down the ungraceful wretch dropped on his knees.

  Let me not kneel in vain, Madam: let me not be thus despised.--And helooked most odiously sorrowful.

  I have kneeled too, Mr. Solmes: often have I kneeled: and I will kneelagain--even to you, Sir, will I kneel, if there be so much merit inkneeling; provided you will not be the implement of my cruel brother'sundeserved persecution.

  If all the services, even to worship you, during my whole life--You,Madam, invoke and expect mercy; yet shew none--

  Am I to be cruel to myself, to shew mercy to you; take my estate, Sir,with all my heart, since you are such a favourite in this house!--onlyleave me myself--the mercy you ask for, do you shew to others.

  If you mean to my relations, Madam--unworthy as they are, all shall bedone that you shall prescribe.

  Who, I, Sir, to find you bowels you naturally have not? I to purchasetheir happiness by the forfeiture of my own? What I ask you for,is mercy to myself: that, since you seem to have some power over myrelations, you will use it in my behalf. Tell them, that you see Icannot conquer my aversion to you: tell them, if you are a wise man,that you too much value your own happiness, to risk it against such adetermined antipathy: tell them that I am unworthy of your offers: andthat in mercy to yourself, as well as to me, you will not prosecute asuit so impossible to be granted.

  I will risque all consequences, said the fell wretch, rising, with acountenance whitened over, as if with malice, his hollow eyes flashingfire, and biting his under lip, to shew he could be manly. Your hatred,Madam, shall be no objection with me: and I doubt not in a few days tohave it in my power to shew you--

  You have it in your power, Sir--

  He came well off--To shew you more generosity than, noble as you aresaid to be to others, you shew to me.

  The man's face became his anger: it seems formed to express the passion.

  At that instant, again in came my brother--Sister, Sister, Sister, saidhe, with his teeth set, act on the termagant part you have so newlyassumed--most wonderfully well does it become you. It is but ashort one, however. Tyraness in your turn, accuse others of your ownguilt--But leave her, leaver her, Mr. Solmes: her time is short. You'llfind her humble and mortified enough very quickly. Then, how like alittle tame fool will she look, with her conscience upbraiding her, andbegging of you [with a whining voice, the barbarous brother spoke] toforgive and forget!

  More he said, as he flew out, with a glowing face, upon Shorey's comingin to recall him on his violence.

  I removed from chair to chair, excessively frighted and disturbed atthis brutal treatment.

  The man attempted to excuse himself, as being sorry for my brother'spassion.

  Leave me, leave me, Sir, fanning--or I shall faint. And indeed I thoughtI should.

  He recommended himself to my favour with an air of assurance; augmented,as I thought, by a distress so visible in me; for he even snatched mytrembling, my struggling hand; and ravished it to his odious mouth.

  I flung from him with high disdain: and he withdrew, bowing andcringing; self-gratified, and enjoying, as I thought, the confusion hesaw me in.

  The wretch is now, methinks, before me; and now I see him awkwardlystriding backward, as he retired, till the edge of the opened door,which he ran against, remembered him to turn his welcome back upon me.

  Upon his withdrawing, Betty brought me word, that I was permitted togo up to my own chamber: and was bid to consider of every thing: for mytime was short. Nevertheless, she believed I might be permitted to staytill Saturday.

  She tells me, that although my brother and
sister were blamed for beingso hasty with me, yet when they made their report, and my uncle Antonyhis, of my provocations, they were all more determined than ever in Mr.Solmes's favour.

  The wretch himself, she tells me, pretends to be more in love withme than before; and to be rather delighted than discouraged with theconversation that passed between us. He ran on, she says, in raptures,about the grace wherewith I should dignify his board; and the like sortof stuff, either of his saying, or of her making.

  She closed all with a Now is your time, Miss, to submit with a grace,and to make your own terms with him:--else, I can tell you, were I Mr.Solmes, it should be worse for you: And who, Miss, of our sex, proceededthe saucy creature, would admire a rakish gentleman, when she might beadmired by a sober one to the end of the chapter?

  She made this further speech to me on quitting my chamber--You havehad amazing good luck, Miss. I must tell you, to keep your writingsconcealed so cunningly. You must needs think I know that you are alwaysat your pen: and as you endeavour to hide that knowledge from me, Ido not think myself obliged to keep your secret. But I love not toaggravate. I had rather reconcile by much. Peace-making is my talent,and ever was. And had I been as much your foe, as you imagine, you hadnot perhaps been here now. But this, however, I do not say to make amerit with you, Miss: for, truly, it will be the better for you thesooner every thing is over with you. And better for me, and for everyone else; that's certain. Yet one hint I must conclude with; that yourpen and ink (soon as you are to go away) will not be long in your power,I do assure you, Miss. And then, having lost that amusement, it will beseen, how a mind so active as yours will be able to employ itself.

  This hint alarms me so much, that I shall instantly begin to conceal, indifferent places, pens, inks, and paper; and to deposit some in the ivysummer-house, if I can find a safe place there; and, at the worst, Ihave got a pencil of black, and another of red lead, which I use in mydrawings; and my patterns shall serve for paper, if I have no other.

  How lucky it was, that I had got away my papers! They made a strictsearch for them; that I can see, by the disorderly manner they have leftall things in: for you know that I am such an observer of method, thatI can go to a bit of ribband, or lace, or edging, blindfold. The same inmy books; which they have strangely disordered and mismatched; to lookbehind them, and in some of them, I suppose. My clothes too are rumplednot a little. No place has escaped them. To your hint, I thank you, arethey indebted for their disappointment.

  The pen, through heaviness and fatigue, dropt out of my fingers, at theword indebted. I resumed it, to finish the sentence; and to tell you,that I am,

  Your for ever obliged and affectionate CL. HARLOWE.