LETTER XLVII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.MONDAY MORNING, MAY 22.
No generosity in this lady. None at all. Wouldst thou not have thought,that after I had permitted her to withdraw, primed for mischief as I was,she would meet me next morning early; and that with a smile; making meone of her best courtesies?
I was in the dining-room before six, expecting her. She opened not herdoor. I went up stairs and down; and hemm'd; and called Will.; calledDorcas; threw the doors hard to; but still she opened not her door. Thustill half an hour after eight, fooled I away my time; and then (breakfastready) I sent Dorcas to request her company.
But I was astonished, when (following the wench, as she did at the firstinvitation) I saw her enter dressed, all but her gloves, and those andher fan in her hand; in the same moment bidding Dorcas direct Will. toget her a chair to the door.
Cruel creature, thought I, to expose me thus to the derision of the womenbelow!
Going abroad, Madam!
I am, Sir.
I looked cursed silly, I am sure. You will breakfast first, I hope,Madam; and a very humble strain; yet with an hundred tender looks in myheart.
Had she given me more notice of her intention, I had perhaps wroughtmyself up to the frame I was in the day before, and begun my vengeance.And immediately came into my head all the virulence that had beentranscribed for me from Miss Howe's letters, and in that letter which Ihad transcribed myself.
Yes, she would drink one dish; and then laid her gloves and fan in thewindow just by.
I was perfectly disconcerted. I hemm'd, and was going to speak severaltimes; but I knew not in what key. Who's modest now! thought I. Who'sinsolent now!--How a tyrant of a woman confounds a bashful man! She wasacting Miss Howe, I thought; and I the spiritless Hickman.
At last, I will begin, thought I.
She a dish--I a dish.
Sip, her eyes her own, she; like a haughty and imperious sovereign,conscious of dignity, every look a favour.
Sip, like her vassal, I; lips and hands trembling, and not knowing that Isipp'd or tasted.
I was--I was--I sipp'd--(drawing in my breath and the liquor together,though I scalded my mouth with it) I was in hopes, Madam--
Dorcas came in just then.--Dorcas, said she, is a chair gone for?
Damn'd impertinence, thought I, thus to put me out in my speech! And Iwas forced to wait for the servant's answer to the insolent mistress'squestion.
William is gone for one, Madam.
This cost me a minute's silence before I could begin again. And then itwas with my hopes, and my hopes, and my hopes, that I should have beenearly admitted to--
What weather is it, Dorcas? said she, as regardless of me as if I had notbeen present.
A little lowering, Madam--The sun is gone in--it was very fine half anhour ago.
I had no patience. Up I rose. Down went the tea-cup, saucer and all--Confound the weather, the sunshine, and the wench!--Begone for a devil,when I am speaking to your lady, and have so little opportunity given me.
Up rose the saucy-face, half-frighted; and snatched from the window hergloves and fan.
You must not go, Madam!--Seizing her hand--by my soul you must not--
Must not, Sir!--But I must--you can curse your maid in my absence, aswell as if I were present----Except--except--you intend for me, what youdirect to her.
Dearest creature, you must not go--you must not leave me--Such determinedscorn! such contempts!--Questions asked your servant of no meaning but tobreak in upon me--I cannot bear it!
Detain me not [struggling.] I will not be withheld. I like you not, noryour ways. You sought to quarrel with me yesterday, for no reason in theworld that I can think of, but because I was too obliging. You are anungrateful man; and I hate you with my whole heart, Mr. Lovelace!
Do not make me desperate, Madam. Permit me to say, that you shall notleave me in this humour. Wherever you go, I will attend you. Had MissHowe been my friend, I had not been thus treated. It is but too plain towhom my difficulties are owing. I have long observed, that every letteryou received from her, makes an alteration in your behaviour to me. Shewould have you treat me, as she treats Mr. Hickman, I suppose: butneither does that treatment become your admirable temper to offer, nor meto receive.
This startled her. She did not care to have me think hardly of MissHowe.
But recollecting herself, Miss Howe, said she, is a friend to virtue, andto good men. If she like not you, it is because you are not one ofthose.
Yes, Madam; and therefore to speak of Mr. Hickman and myself, as youboth, I suppose, think of each, she treats him as she would not treat aLovelace.--I challenge you, Madam, to shew me but one of the many lettersyou have received from her, where I am mentioned.
Miss Howe is just; Miss Howe is good, replied she. She writes, shespeaks, of every body as they deserve. If you point me out but any oneoccasion, upon which you have reason to build a merit to yourself, aseither just or good, or even generous, I will look out for her letter onthat occasion [if such an occasion there be, I have certainly acquaintedher with it]; and will engage it shall be in your favour.
Devilish severe! And as indelicate as severe, to put a modish man uponhunting backward after his own merits.
She would have flung from me: I will not be detained, Mr. Lovelace. Iwill go out.
Indeed you must not, Madam, in this humour. And I placed myself betweenher and the door.----And then, fanning, she threw herself into a chair,her sweet face all crimsoned over with passion.
I cast myself at her feet.--Begone, Mr. Lovelace, said she, with arejecting motion, her fan in her hand; for your own sake leave me!--Mysoul is above thee, man! with both her hands pushing me from her!--Urgeme not to tell thee, how sincerely I think my soul above thee!--Thouhast, in mine, a proud, a too proud heart to contend with!--Leave me, andleave me for ever!--Thou has a proud heart to contend with!
Her air, her manner, her voice, were bewitchingly noble, though her wordswere so severe.
Let me worship an angel, said I, no woman. Forgive me, dearest creature!--creature if you be, forgive me!--forgive my inadvertencies!--forgive myinequalities!--pity my infirmities!--Who is equal to my Clarissa?
I trembled between admiration and love; and wrapt my arms about herknees, as she sat. She tried to rise at the moment; but my claspinground her thus ardently, drew her down again; and never was woman moreaffrighted. But free as my clasping emotion might appear to herapprehensive heart, I had not, at the instant, any thought but whatreverence inspired. And till she had actually withdrawn [which Ipermitted under promise of a speedy return, and on her consent to dismissthe chair] all the motions of my heart were as pure as her own.
She kept not her word. An hour I waited before I sent to claim herpromise. She could not possibly see me yet, was her answer. As soon asshe could, she would.
Dorcas says, she still excessively trembled; and ordered her to give herhartshorn and water.
A strange apprehensive creature! Her terror is too great for theoccasion. Evils are often greater in apprehension than in reality. Hastthou never observed, that the terrors of a bird caught, and actually inthe hand, bear no comparison to what we might have supposed those terrorswould be, were we to have formed a judgment of the same bird by itsshyness before it was taken?
Dear creature!--Did she never romp? Did she never, from girlhood to now,hoyden? The innocent kinds of freedom taken and allowed on theseoccasions, would have familiarized her to greater. Sacrilege but totouch the hem of her garment!--Excess of delicacy!--O the consecratedbeauty! How can she think to be a wife?
But how do I know till I try, whether she may not by a less alarmingtreatment be prevailed upon, or whether [day, I have done with thee!] shemay not yield to nightly surprises? This is still the burden of my song,I can marry her when I will. And if I do, after prevailing (whether bysurprise, or by reluctant consent) whom but myself shall I have injured?
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It is now eleven o'clock. She will see me as soon as she can, she tellsPolly Horton, who made her a tender visit, and to whom she is lessreserved than to any body else. Her emotion, she assures her, was notowing to perverseness, to nicety, to ill humour; but to weakness ofheart. She has not strength of mind sufficient, she says, to enable herto support her condition.
Yet what a contradiction!--Weakness of heart, says she, with such astrength of will!--O Belford! she is a lion-hearted lady, in every casewhere her honour, her punctilio rather, calls for spirit. But I have hadreason more than once in her case, to conclude, that the passions of thegentle, slower to be moved than those of the quick, are the most flaming,the most irresistible, when raised.--Yet her charming body is not equallyorganized. The unequal partners pull two ways; and the divinity withinher tears her silken frame. But had the same soul informed a masculinebody, never would there have been a truer hero.
MONDAY, TWO O'CLOCK.
Not yet visible!--My beloved is not well. What expectations had she frommy ardent admiration of her!--More rudeness than revenge apprehended.Yet, how my soul thirsts for revenge upon both these ladies? I must haverecourse to my master-strokes. This cursed project of Miss Howe and herMrs. Townsend (if I cannot contrive to render it abortive) will be alwaysa sword hanging over my head. Upon every little disobligations mybeloved will be for taking wing; and the pains I have taken to depriveher of every other refuge or protection, in order to make her absolutelydependent upon me, will be all thrown away. But perhaps I shall find outa smuggler to counterplot Miss Howe.
Thou remembrest the contention between the Sun and the North-wind, in thefable; which should first make an honest traveller throw off his cloak.
Boreas began first. He puffed away most vehemently; and often made thepoor fellow curve and stagger; but with no other effect, than to causehim to wrap his surtout the closer about him.
But when it came to Phoebus's turn, he so played upon the traveller withhis beams, that he made him first unbutton, and then throw it quite off:--Nor left he, till he obliged him to take to the friendly shade of aspreading beech; where, prostrating himself on the thrown-off cloak, hetook a comfortable nap.
The victor-god then laughed outright, both at Boreas and the traveller,and pursued his radiant course, shining upon, and warming and cherishinga thousand new objects, as he danced along: and at night, when he put uphis fiery coursers, he diverted his Thetis with the relation of hispranks in the passed day.
I, in like manner, will discard all my boisterous inventions: and if Ican oblige my sweet traveller to throw aside, but for one moment, thecloak of her rigid virtue, I shall have nothing to do, but, like the sun,to bless new objects with my rays. But my chosen hours of conversationand repose, after all my peregrinations, will be devoted to my goddess.
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And now, Belford, according to my new system, I think this house of Mrs.Fretchville an embarrass upon me. I will get rid of it; for some time atleast. Mennell, when I am out, shall come to her, inquiring for me.What for? thou'lt ask. What for--hast thou not heard what has befallenpoor Mrs. Fretchville?--Then I'll tell thee.
One of her maids, about a week ago, was taken with the small-pox. Therest kept their mistress ignorant of it till Friday; and then she came toknow of it by accident. The greater half of the plagues poor mortals ofcondition are tormented with, proceed from the servants they take, partlyfor show, partly for use, and with a view to lessen their cares.
This has so terrified the widow, that she is taken with all the symptomsthat threaten an attack from that dreadful enemy of fair faces.--So mustnot think of removing: yet cannot expect, that we should be furtherdelayed on her account.
She now wishes, with all her heart, that she had known her own mind, andgone into the country at first when I treated about the house. This evilthen had not happened! a cursed cross accident for us, too!--Heigh-ho!nothing else, I think, in this mortal life! people need not study tobring crosses upon themselves by their petulancies.
So this affair of the house will be over; at least for one while. Butthen I can fall upon an expedient which will make amends for thisdisappointment. I must move slow, in order to be sure. I have acharming contrivance or two in my head, even supposing my beloved shouldget away, to bring her back again.
But what is become of Lord M. I trow, that he writes not to me, inanswer to my invitation? If he would send me such a letter as I couldshow, it might go a great way towards a perfect reconciliation. I havewritten to Charlotte about it. He shall soon hear from me, and that in away he won't like, if he writes not quickly. He has sometimes threatenedto disinherit me. But if I should renounce him, it would be but justice,and would vex him ten times more than any thing he can do will vex me.Then, the settlements unavoidably delayed, by his neglect!--How shall Ibear such a life of procrastination!--I, who, as to my will, andimpatience, and so forth, am of the true lady-make, and can as littlebear controul and disappointment as the best of them!
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Another letter from Miss Howe. I suppose it is that which she promisesin her last to send her relating to the courtship between old Tony theuncle, and Annabella the mother. I should be extremely rejoiced to seeit. No more of the smuggler-plot in it, surely! This letter, it seems,she has put in her pocket. But I hope I shall soon find it depositedwith the rest.
MONDAY EVENING.
At my repeated request she condescended to meet me in the dining-room toafternoon-tea, and not before.
She entered with bashfulness, as I thought; in a pretty confusion, forhaving carried her apprehensions too far. Sullen and slow moved shetowards the tea-table.--Dorcas present, busy in tea-cup preparations. Itook her reluctant hand, and pressed it to my lips.--Dearest, loveliestof creatures, why this distance? why this displeasure?--How can you thustorture the faithfullest heart in the world?
She disengaged her hand. Again I would have snatched it.
Be quiet, [peevishly withdrawing it.] And down she sat; a gentlepalpitation in the beauty of beauties indicating a mingled sullenness andresentment; her snowy handkerchief rising and falling, and a sweet flushoverspreading her charming cheeks.
For God's sake, Madam!--[And a third time I would have taken herrepulsing hand.]
And for the same sake, Sir, no more teasing.
Dorcas retired; I drew my chair nearer her's, and with the mostrespectful tenderness took her hand; and told her, that I could notforbear to express my apprehensions (from the distance she was sodesirous to keep me at) that if any man in the world was more indifferentto her, to use no harsher word, than another, it was the unhappy wretchbefore her.
She looked steadily upon me for a moment, and with her other hand, notwithdrawing that I held, pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket; andby a twinkling motion urged forward a tear or two, which having arisen ineach sweet eye, it was plain by that motion she would rather havedissipated: but answered me only with a sigh, and an averted face.
I urged her to speak; to look up at me; to bless me with an eye morefavourable.
I had reason, she told me, for my complaint of her indifference. She sawnothing in my mind that was generous. I was not a man to be obliged orfavoured. My strange behaviour to her since Saturday night, for no causeat all that she knew of, convinced her of this. Whatever hopes she hadconceived of me were utterly dissipated: all my ways were disgustful toher.
This cut me to the heart. The guilty, I believe, in every case, lesspatiently bear the detecting truth, than the innocent do the degradingfalsehood.
I bespoke her patience, while I took the liberty to account for thischange on my part.--I re-acknowledged the pride of my heart, which couldnot bear the thought of that want of preference in the heart of a ladywhom I hoped to call mine, which she had always manifested. Marriage, Isaid, was a state that was not to be entered upon with indifference oneither side.
It is insolence, interrupted she, it is a presumption, Sir, to expecttokens of value, without resolving to de
serve them. You have no whiningcreature before you, Mr. Lovelace, overcome by weak motives, to lovewhere there is no merit. Miss Howe can tell you, Sir, that I never lovedthe faults of my friend; nor ever wished her to love me for mine. It wasa rule with us not to spare each other. And would a man who has nothingbut faults (for pray, Sir, what are your virtues?) expect that I shouldshow a value for him? Indeed, if I did, I should not deserve even hisvalue; but ought to be despised by him.
Well have you, Madam, kept up to this noble manner of thinking. You arein no danger of being despised for any marks of tenderness or favourshown to the man before you. You have been perhaps, you'll think,laudably studious of making and taking occasions to declare, that it wasfar from being owing to your choice, that you had any thoughts of me. Mywhole soul, Madam, in all its errors, in all its wishes, in all itsviews, had been laid open and naked before you, had I been encouraged bysuch a share in your confidence and esteem, as would have secured meagainst your apprehended worst constructions of what I should from timeto time have revealed to you, and consulted you upon. For never wasthere a franker heart; nor a man so ready to accuse himself. [This,Belford, is true.] But you know, Madam, how much otherwise it has beenbetween us.--Doubt, distance, reserve, on your part, begat doubt, fear,awe, on mine.--How little confidence! as if we apprehended each other tobe a plotter rather than a lover. How have I dreaded every letter thathas been brought you from Wilson's!--and with reason: since the last,from which I expected so much, on account of the proposals I had made youin writing, has, if I may judge by the effects, and by your denial ofseeing me yesterday, (though you could go abroad, and in a chair too, toavoid my attendance on you,) set you against me more than ever.
I was guilty, it seems, of going to church, said the indignant charmer;and without the company of a man, whose choice it would not have been togo, had I not gone--I was guilty of desiring to have the whole Sunday tomyself, after I had obliged you, against my will, at a play; and afteryou had detained me (equally to my dislike) to a very late hour over-night.--These were my faults: for these I was to be punished: I was to becompelled to see you, and to be terrified when I did see you, by the mostshocking ill humour that was ever shown to a creature in mycircumstances, and not bound to bear it. You have pretended to find freefault with my father's temper, Mr. Lovelace: but the worst that he evershowed after marriage, was not in the least to be compared to what youhave shown twenty times beforehand.--And what are my prospects with you,at the very best?--My indignation rises against you, Mr. Lovelace, whileI speak to you, when I recollect the many instances, equally ungenerousand unpolite, of your behaviour to one whom you have brought intodistress--and I can hardly bear you in my sight.
She turned from me, standing up; and, lifting up her folded hands, andcharming eyes swimming in tears, O my father, said the inimitablecreature, you might have spared your heavy curse, had you known how Ihave been punished ever since my swerving feet led me out of yourgarden-doors to meet this man!--Then, sinking into her chair, a burstof passionate tears forced their way down her glowing cheeks.
My dearest life, [taking her still folded hands in mine,] who can bearan invocation so affecting, though so passionate?
And, as I hope to live, my nose tingled, as I once, when a boy, rememberit did (and indeed once more very lately) just before some tears cameinto my eyes; and I durst hardly trust my face in view of her's.
What have I done to deserve this impatient exclamation?--Have I, at anytime, by word, by deeds, by looks, given you cause to doubt my honour, myreverence, my adoration, I may call it, of your virtues? All is owing tomisapprehension, I hope, on both sides. Condescend to clear up but yourpart, as I will mine, and all must speedily be happy.--Would to Heaven Iloved that Heaven as I love you! and yet, if I doubted a return in love,let me perish if I should know how to wish you mine!--Give me hope,dearest creature, give me but hope, that I am your preferable choice!--Give me but hope, that you hate me not: that you do not despise me.
O Mr. Lovelace, we have been long enough together to be tired of eachother's humours and ways; ways and humours so different, that perhapsyou ought to dislike me, as much as I do you.--I think, I think, that Icannot make an answerable return to the value you profess for me. Mytemper is utterly ruined. You have given me an ill opinion of allmankind; of yourself in particular: and withal so bad a one of myself,that I shall never be able to look up, having utterly and for ever lostall that self-complacency, and conscious pride, which are so necessary tocarry a woman through this life with tolerable satisfaction to herself.
She paused. I was silent. By my soul, thought I, this sweet creaturewill at last undo me!
She proceeded: What now remains, but that you pronounce me free of allobligation to you? and that you hinder me not from pursuing the destinythat shall be allotted me?
Again she paused. I was still silent; meditating whether to renounce allfurther designs upon her; whether I had not received sufficient evidenceof a virtue, and of a greatness of soul, that could not be questioned orimpeached.
She went on: Propitious to me be your silence, Mr. Lovelace!--Tell me,that I am free of all obligation to you. You know, I never made youpromises. You know, that you are not under any to me.--My brokenfortunes I matter not--
She was proceeding--My dearest life, said I, I have been all this time,though you fill me with doubts of your favour, busy in the nuptialpreparations. I am actually in treaty for equipage.
Equipage, Sir!--Trappings, tinsel!--What is equipage; what is life; whatis any thing; to a creature sunk so low as I am in my own opinion!--Labouring under a father's curse!--Unable to look backward without self-reproach, or forward without terror!--These reflections strengthened byevery cross accident!--And what but cross accidents befall me!--All mydarling schemes dashed in pieces, all my hopes at an end; deny me not theliberty to refuge myself in some obscure corner, where neither theenemies you have made me, nor the few friends you have left me, may everhear of the supposed rash-one, till those happy moments are at hand,which shall expiate for all!
I had not a word to say for myself. Such a war in my mind had I neverknown. Gratitude, and admiration of the excellent creature before me,combating with villanous habit, with resolutions so premeditatedly made,and with view so much gloried in!--An hundred new contrivances in myhead, and in my heart, that to be honest, as it is called, must all begiven up, by a heart delighting in intrigue and difficulty--Miss Howe'svirulences endeavoured to be recollected--yet recollection refusing tobring them forward with the requisite efficacy--I had certainly been alost man, had not Dorcas come seasonably in with a letter.--On thesuperscription written--Be pleased, Sir, to open it now.
I retired to the window--opened it--it was from Dorcas herself.--Thesethe contents--'Be pleased to detain my lady: a paper of importance totranscribe. I will cough when I have done.'
I put the paper in my pocket, and turned to my charmer, lessdisconcerted, as she, by that time, had also a little recovered herself.--One favour, dearest creature--Let me but know, whether Miss Howeapproves or disapproves of my proposals? I know her to be my enemy. Iwas intending to account to you for the change of behaviour you accusedme of at the beginning of the conversation; but was diverted from it byyour vehemence. Indeed, my beloved creature, you were very vehement. Doyou think it must not be matter of high regret to me, to find my wishesso often delayed and postponed in favour of your predominant view to areconciliation with relations who will not be reconciled to you?--To thiswas owing your declining to celebrate our nuptials before we came totown, though you were so atrociously treated by your sister, and yourwhole family; and though so ardently pressed to celebrate by me--to thiswas owing the ready offence you took at my four friends; and at theunavailing attempt I made to see a dropt letter; little imagining, fromwhat two such ladies could write to each other, that there could be roomfor mortal displeasure--to this was owing the week's distance you held meat, till you knew the issue of another application.--But, when they hadrejected
that; when you had sent my cold-received proposals to Miss Howefor her approbation or advice, as indeed I advised; and had honoured mewith your company at the play on Saturday night; (my whole behaviourunobjectionable to the last hour;) must not, Madam, the sudden change inyour conduct the very next morning, astonish and distress me?--and thispersisted in with still stronger declarations, after you had received theimpatiently-expected letter from Miss Howe; must I not conclude, that allwas owing to her influence; and that some other application or projectwas meditating, that made it necessary to keep me again at a distancetill the result were known, and which was to deprive me of you for ever?For was not that your constantly-proposed preliminary?--Well, Madam,might I be wrought up to a half-phrensy by this apprehension; and wellmight I charge you with hating me.--And now, dearest creature, let meknow, I once more ask you, what is Miss Howe's opinion of my proposals?
Were I disposed to debate with you, Mr. Lovelace, I could very easilyanswer your fine harangue. But at present, I shall only say, that yourways have been very unaccountable. You seem to me, if your meanings werealways just, to have taken great pains to embarrass them. Whether owingin you to the want of a clear head, or a sound heart, I cannot determine;but it is to the want of one of them, I verily think, that I am toascribe the greatest part of your strange conduct.
Curse upon the heart of the little devil, said I, who instigates you tothink so hardly of the faithfullest heart in the world!
How dare you, Sir! And there she stopt; having almost overshot herself;as I designed she should.
How dare I what, Madam? And I looked with meaning. How dare I what?
Vile man--And do you--And there again she stopt.
Do I what, Madam?--And why vile man?
How dare you curse any body in my presence?
O the sweet receder! But that was not to go off so with a Lovelace.
Why then, dearest creature, is there any body that instigates you?--Ifthere be, again I curse them, be they whom they will.
She was in a charming pretty passion. And this was the first time that Ihad the odds in my favour.
Well, Madam, it is just as I thought. And now I know how to account fora temper that I hope is not natural to you.
Artful wretch! and is it thus you would entrap me? But know, Sir, that Ireceived letters from nobody but Miss Howe. Miss Howe likes some of yourways as little as I do; for I have set every thing before her. Yet sheis thus far your enemy, as she is mine. She thinks I could not refuseyour offers; but endeavour to make the best of my lot. And now you havethe truth. Would to heaven you were capable of dealing with equalsincerity!
I am, Madam. And here, on my knee, I renew my vows, and my supplication,that you will make me your's. Your's for ever. And let me have cause tobless you and Miss Howe in the same breath.
To say the truth, Belford, I had before begun to think that the vixen ofa girl, who certainly likes not Hickman, was in love with me.
Rise, Sir, from your too-ready knees; and mock me not!
Too-ready knees, thought I! Though this humble posture so little affectsthis proud beauty, she knows not how much I have obtained of others ofher sex, nor how often I have been forgiven for the last attempts, bykneeling.
Mock you, Madam! And I arose, and re-urged her for the day. I blamedmyself, at the same time, for the invitation I had given to Lord M., asit might subject me to delay from his infirmities: but told her, that Iwould write to him to excuse me, if she had no objection; or to give himthe day she would give me, and not wait for him, if he could not come intime.
My day, Sir, said she, is never. Be not surprised. A person ofpoliteness judging between us, would not be surprised that I say so. Butindeed, Mr. Lovelace, [and wept through impatience,] you either know nothow to treat with a mind of the least degree of delicacy, notwithstandingyour birth and education, or you are an ungrateful man; and [after apause] a worse than ungrateful one. But I will retire. I will see youagain to-morrow. I cannot before. I think I hate you. And if, upon are-examination of my own heart, I find I do, I would not for the worldthat matters should go on farther between us.
But I see, I see, she does not hate me! How it would mortify my vanity,if I thought there was a woman in the world, much more this, that couldhate me! 'Tis evident, villain as she thinks me, that I should not be anodious villain, if I could but at last in one instance cease to be avillain! She could not hold it, determined as she had thought herself, Isaw by her eyes, the moment I endeavoured to dissipate her apprehensions,on my too-ready knees, as she calls them. The moment the rough coveringmy teasing behaviour has thrown over her affections is quite removed, Idoubt not to find all silk and silver at the bottom, all soft, bright,and charming.
I was however too much vexed, disconcerted, mortified, to hinder her fromretiring. And yet she had not gone, if Dorcas had not coughed.
The wench came in, as soon as her lady had retired, and gave me the copyshe had taken. And what should it be but of the answer the trulyadmirable creature had intended to give to my written proposals inrelation to settlements?
I have but just dipt my pen into this affecting paper. Were I to read itattentively, not a wink should I sleep this night. To-morrow it shallobtain my serious consideration.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 49
