Clarissa--Or the History of a Young Lady

by Samuel Richardson

  I approached her, and was going to speak.

  Don’t speak, sir: Here’s the ring.

  I stood off.

  And won’t you take it? Won’t you do this last office for me? I have no other person to ask it of; else, believe me, I would not request it of you. But take it or not, laying it upon the table—you must withdraw, sir: I am very ill. I would fain get a little rest, if I could. I find I am going to be bad again.

  And here being obliged to give way to an indispensable avocation, I will make thee taste a little in thy turn of the plague of suspense; and break off, without giving thee the least hint of the issue of my further proceedings. I know that those least bear disappointment who love most to give it. In twenty instances hast thou afforded me proof of the truth of this observation. And I matter not thy raving.

  Another letter, however, shall be ready, send for it as soon as thou wilt. But, were it not, have I not written enough to convince thee, that I am

  Thy ready and obliging friend,

  J. BELFORD?

  Letter 336: MR BELFORD TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

  Monday night, July 17

  On my return to Rowland’s, I found that the apothecary was just gone up.

  She was sitting on the side of the broken couch, extremely weak and low.

  The lady looked displeased, as well at me as at Rowland, who followed me, and at the apothecary.

  I besought her excuse; and winking for the apothecary to withdraw (which he did), told her that I had been at her new lodgings, to order everything to be got ready for her reception; presuming she would choose to go thither: that I had a chair at the door: that Mr Smith and his wife (I named their names, that she should not have room for the least fear of Sinclair’s), had been full of apprehensions for her safety.

  I besought her to think of quitting that wretched hole.

  Where could she go, she asked, to be safe and uninterrupted for the short remainder of her life; and to avoid being again visited by the creatures who had insulted her before?

  I gave her the solemnest assurances that she should not be invaded in her new lodgings by anybody; and said that I would particularly engage my honour that the person who had most offended her should not come near her, without her own consent.

  I represented to her that she would be less free where she was, from visits she liked not, than at her own lodging. And I expressed my surprise, that she should be unwilling to quit such a place as this; when it was more than probable that some of her friends, when it was known how bad she was, would visit her.

  She said the place, when she was first brought into it, was indeed very shocking to her: but that she had found herself so weak and ill, and her griefs had so sunk her, that she did not expect to have lived till now: that therefore all places had been alike to her; for to die in a prison was to die; and equally eligible as to die in a palace (Palaces, she said, could have no attractions for a dying person): but that, since she feared she was not so soon to be released as she had hoped; since she was so little mistress of herself here; and since she might, by removal, be in the way of her dear friend’s letters; she would hope that she might depend upon the assurances I gave her of being at liberty to return to her last lodgings (otherwise she would provide herself with new ones, out of my knowledge, as well as out of yours); and that I was too much of a gentleman to be concerned in carrying her back to the house she had so much reason to abhor; and to which she had been once before most vilely betrayed, to her ruin.

  I assured her in the strongest terms (but swore not) that you were resolved not to molest her: and, as a proof of the sincerity of my professions, besought her to give me directions (in pursuance of my friend’s express desire) about sending all her apparel, and whatever belonged to her, to her new lodgings.

  She seemed pleased; and gave me instantly out of her pocket her keys; asking me if Mrs Smith, whom I had named, might not attend me; and she would give her further directions? To which I cheerfully assented; and then she told me that she would accept of the chair I had offered her.

  I withdrew; and took the opportunity to be civil to Rowland and his maid; for she found no fault with their behaviour, for what they were; and the fellow seems to be miserably poor.

  I was resolved to lose no time in having everything which belonged to the lady at the cursed woman’s sent her. Accordingly, I took coach to Smith’s, and procured the lady (to whom I sent up my compliments, and inquiries how she bore her removal), ill as she sent me down word she was, to give proper directions to Mrs Smith: whom I took with me to Sinclair’s; and who saw everything looked out and put into the trunks and boxes they were first brought in, and carried away in two coaches.

  Letter 338: MR BELFORD TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

  Tuesday, July 18, afternoon

  I renewed my inquiries after the lady’s health, in the morning, by my servant: and, as soon as I had dined, I went myself.

  I had but a poor account of it: yet sent up my compliments. She returned me thanks for all my good offices; and her excuses that they could not be personal just then, being very low and faint: but if I gave myself the trouble of coming about six this evening, she should be able, she hoped, to drink a dish of tea with me, and would then thank me herself.

  I am very proud of this condescension; and think it looks not amiss for you, as I am your avowed friend. Methinks I want fully to remove from her mind all doubts of you in this last villainous action: and who knows then, what your noble relations may be able to do for you with her, if you hold your mind? For your servant acquainted me with their having actually engaged Miss Howe in their and your favour, before this cursed affair happened.

  She has two handsome apartments, a bedchamber and dining-room, with light closets in each. She has already a nurse (the people of the house having but one maid); a woman whose care, diligence, and honesty, Mrs Smith highly commends. She has likewise the benefit of the voluntary attendance, and love, as it seems, of a widow gentlewoman, Mrs Lovick her name, who lodges over her apartment, and of whom she seems very fond, having found something in her, she thinks, resembling the qualities of her worthy Mrs Norton.

  Mrs Lovick gratified me with an account of a letter she had written from the lady’s mouth to Miss Howe; she being unable to write herself with steadiness.

  Let not your flaming impatience destroy all; and make me look like a villain to a lady who has reason to suspect every man she sees to be so. Upon this condition, you may expect all the services that can flow from true friendship, and from

  Your sincere well-wisher,

  JOHN BELFORD

  Letter 340: MR BELFORD TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

  Wednesday, July 19

  Three o’clock, afternoon

  I just now called again at Smith’s; and am told she is somewhat better; which she attributed to the soothings of her doctor. She expressed herself highly pleased with both gentlemen; and said that their behaviour to her was perfectly paternal.

  Paternal, poor lady! Never having been, till very lately, from under her parents’ wings, and now abandoned by all her friends, she is for finding out something paternal and maternal in everyone (the latter qualities in Mrs Lovick and Mrs Smith), to supply to herself the father and mother her dutiful heart pants after!

  Mrs Smith told me that after we were gone she gave the keys of her trunks and drawers to her and the widow Lovick, and desired them to take an inventory of them; which they did, in her presence.

  They also informed me that she had requested them to find her a purchaser for two rich dressed suits; one never worn, the other not above once or twice.

  This shocked me exceedingly: perhaps it may thee a little!!! Her reason for so doing, she told them, was that she should never live to wear them: that her sister, and other relations were above wearing them: that her mother would not endure in her sight anything that was hers: that she wanted the money:
that she would not be obliged to anybody when she had effects by her, which she had no occasion for. And yet, said she, I expect not that they will fetch a price answerable to their value.

  They were both very much concerned, as they owned; and asked my advice upon it: and the richness of her apparel having given them a still higher notion of her rank than they had before, they supposed she must be of quality; and again wanted to know her story.

  I told them that she was indeed a lady of family and fortune: I still gave them room to suppose her married: but left it to her to tell them all in her own time and manner. All I would say was, that she had been very vilely treated; deserved it not; and was all innocence and purity.

  You may suppose that they both expressed their astonishment that there could be a man in the world who could ill-treat so fine a creature.

  As to disposing of the two suits of apparel, I told Mrs Smith that she should pretend that upon inquiry she had found a friend who would purchase the richest of them; but (that she might not mistrust) would stand upon a good bargain. And having twenty guineas about me, I left them with her in part of payment; and bid her pretend to get her to part with it for as little more as she could induce her to take.

  Adieu!

  Letter 343: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Thursday afternoon

  You oppress me, my dearest Miss Howe, by your flaming, yet steady love. I will be very brief, because I am not well; yet a good deal better than I was; and because I am preparing an answer to yours of the 13th. But, beforehand, I must tell you, my dear, I will not have that man. Don’t be angry with me. But indeed I won’t. So let him be asked no questions about me, I beseech you.

  I do not despond, my dear. I hope I may say, I will not despond. Is not my condition greatly mended? I thank Heaven it is!

  I am no prisoner now in a vile house. I am not now in the power of that man’s devices. I am not now obliged to hide myself in corners for fear of him. One of his intimate companions is become my warm friend, and engages to keep him from me, and that by his own consent. I am among honest people. I have all my clothes and effects restored me. The wretch himself bears testimony to my honour.

  Indeed I am very weak and ill: but I have an excellent physician, Dr H., and as worthy an apothecary, Mr Goddard. Their treatment of me, my dear, is perfectly paternal! My mind too, I can find, begins to strengthen: and methinks at times I find myself superior to my calamities.

  I shall have sinkings sometimes. I must expect such. And my father’s maledict—But you will chide me for introducing that, now I am enumerating my comforts.

  If you would contribute to my happiness, give way, my dear, to your own; and to the cheerful prospects before you!

  You will think very meanly of your Clarissa Harlowe, if you do not believe that the greatest pleasure she can receive in this life is in your prosperity and welfare. Think not of me, my only friend, but as we were in times past: and suppose me gone a great, great way off!—a long journey! How often are the dearest of friends, at their country’s call, thus parted—with a certainty for years—with a probability for ever!

  Love me still, however. But let it be with a weaning love. I am not what I was when we were inseparable lovers, as I may say. Our views must now be different. Resolve, my dear, to make a worthy man happy, because a worthy man must make you so. And so, my dearest love, for the present adieu! Adieu, my dearest love! But I shall soon write again, I hope!

  Letter 346: MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

  M. Hall, Friday, July 21

  Just returned from an interview with this Hickman: a precise fop of a fellow, as starched as his ruffles.

  Thou knowest I love him not, Jack; and whom we love not, we cannot allow a merit to; perhaps not the merit they should be granted. However, I am in earnest when I say that he seems to me to be so set, so prim, so affected, so mincing, yet so clouterly in his person, that I dare engage for thy opinion if thou dost justice to him, and to thyself, that thou never beheldest such another, except in a pier-glass.

  I’ll tell thee how I played him off.

  He came in his own chariot to Dormer’s; and we took a turn in the garden, at his request. He was devilish ceremonious, and made a bushel of apologies for the freedom he was going to take; and, after half a hundred hums and haws, told me that he came—that he came—to wait on me—at the request of dear Miss Howe, on the account—on the account—of Miss Harlowe.

  Well, sir, speak on, said I: but give me leave to say, that if your book be as long as your preface, it will take up a week to read it.

  He stroked his chin, and hardly knew what to say. At last, after parenthesis within parenthesis, apologizing for apologies, in imitation I suppose of Swift’s Digressions in Praise of Digressions—I presume, I presume, sir, you were privy to the visit made to Miss Howe by the young ladies your cousins, in the name of Lord M. and Lady Sarah Sadleir, and Lady Betty Lawrance?

  I was, sir: and Miss Howe had a letter afterwards, signed by his lordship and those ladies, and underwritten by myself. Have you seen it, sir?

  I can’t say but I have. It is the principal cause of this visit: for Miss Howe thinks your part of it is written with such an air of levity—pardon me, sir—that she knows not whether you are in earnest or not, in your address to her for her interest to her friend.

  Will Miss Howe permit me to explain myself in person to her, Mr Hickman?

  Oh sir, by no means: Miss Howe, I am sure, would not give you that trouble.

  I should not think it a trouble. I will most readily attend you, sir, to Miss Howe, and satisfy her in all her scruples. Come, sir, I will wait upon you now. You have a chariot. Are alone. We can talk as we ride.

  He hesitated, wriggled, winced, stroked his ruffles, set his wig, and pulled his neckcloth which was long enough for a bib. I am not going directly back to Miss Howe, sir. It will be as well, if you will be so good as to satisfy Miss Howe by me.

  What is it she scruples, Mr Hickman?

  I know from Miss Howe that she highly resents the injuries you own: insomuch that Miss Howe doubts that she shall ever prevail upon her to overlook them: and as your family are all desirous you should repair her wrongs, and likewise desire Miss Howe’s interposition with her friend; Miss Howe fears from this part of your letter that you are too much in jest; and that your offer to do her justice is rather in compliment to your friends’ entreaties, than proceeding from your own inclinations: and she desires to know your true sentiments on this occasion before she interposes further.

  Do you think, Mr Hickman, that if I am capable of deceiving my own relations, I have so much obligation to Miss Howe, who has always treated me with great freedom, as to acknowledge to her what I don’t to them?

  Sir, I beg pardon—but Miss Howe thinks that, as you have written to her, she may ask you by me for an explanation of what you have written.

  I should be extremely glad to be reconciled to Miss Harlowe; and should owe great obligations to Miss Howe if she could bring about so happy an event.

  Well, sir, and you have no objections to marriage, I presume, as the terms of that reconciliation?

  I never liked matrimony in my life. I must be plain with you, Mr Hickman.

  I am sorry for it: I think it a very happy state.

  I hope you will find it so, Mr Hickman.

  I doubt not but I shall, sir. And I dare say, so would you, if you were to have Miss Harlowe.

  If I could be happy in it with anybody, it would be with Miss Harlowe.

  I am surprised, sir! Then, after all, you don’t think of marrying Miss Harlowe!—after the hard usage.

  What hard usage, Mr Hickman? I don’t doubt but a lady of her niceness has represented what would appear trifles to any other, in a very strong light.

  If what I have had hinted to me, sir—excuse me—has been offered to the lady, she has more than trifles to com
plain of.

  Let me know what you have heard, Mr Hickman? I will very truly answer to the accusations.

  Sir, you know best what you have done: you own the lady is the most injured, as well as the most deserving, of her sex.

  I do, sir; and yet, I would be glad to know what you have heard; for on that, perhaps, depends my answer to the questions Miss Howe puts to me by you.

  Why then, sir, since you ask it, you cannot be displeased if I answer you. In the first place, sir, you will acknowledge, I suppose, that you promised Miss Harlowe marriage, and all that?

  Well, sir, and I suppose what you have to charge me with is that I was desirous to have all that without marriage.

  Cot-so, sir, I know you are deemed to be a man of wit: but may I not ask if these things sit not too light upon you?

  When a thing is done, and cannot be helped, ‘tis right to make the best of it. I wish the lady would think so too.

  I think, sir, ladies should not be deceived. I think a promise to a lady should be as binding as to any other person, at the least.

  I believe you think so, Mr Hickman: and I believe you are a very honest good sort of a man.

  I would always keep my word, sir, whether to man or woman.

  You say well. And far be it from me to persuade you to do otherwise. But what have you farther heard?

  Sir, this is no part of my present business.

  But, Mr Hickman, ‘tis part of mine. I hope you would not expect that I should answer your questions, at the same time that you refuse to answer mine. What, pray, have you farther heard?

  Why then, sir, if I must say, I am told that Miss Harlowe was carried to a very bad house.