<p>CL. HARLOWE. <SPAN name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LETTER XLI </h2>
<h3> MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, ONE O'CLOCK. </h3>
<p>I have a letter from Mr. Lovelace, full of transports, vows, and promises.
I will send it to you enclosed. You'll see how 'he engages in it for Lady
Betty's protection, and for Miss Charlotte Montague's accompanying me. I
have nothing to do, but to persevere, he says, and prepare to receive the
personal congratulations of his whole family.'</p>
<p>But you'll see how he presumes upon my being his, as the consequence of
throwing myself into that lady's protection.</p>
<p>'The chariot and six is to be ready at the place he mentions. You'll see
as to the slur upon my reputation, about which I am so apprehensive, how
boldly he argues.' Generously enough, indeed, were I to be his; and had
given him to believe that I would.—But that I have not done.</p>
<p>How one step brings on another with this encroaching sex; how soon a young
creature, who gives a man the least encouragement, be carried beyond her
intentions, and out of her own power! You would imagine, by what he
writes, that I have given him reason to think that my aversion to Mr.
Solmes is all owing to my favour for him.</p>
<p>The dreadful thing is, that comparing what he writes from his
intelligencer of what is designed against me (though he seems not to know
the threatened day) with what my aunt and Betty assure me of, there can be
no hope for me, but that I must be Solmes's wife, if I stay here.</p>
<p>I had better have gone to my uncle Antony's at this rate. I should have
gained time, at least, by it. This is the fruit of his fine contrivances!</p>
<p>'What we are to do, and how good he is to be: how I am to direct all his
future steps.' All this shews, as I said before, that he is sure of me.</p>
<p>However, I have replied to the following effect: 'That although I had
given him room to expect that I would put myself into the protection of
one of the ladies of his family; yet as I have three days to come, between
this and Monday, and as I still hope that my friends will relent, or that
Mr. Solmes will give up a point they will find impossible to carry; I
shall not look upon myself as absolutely bound by the appointment: and
expect therefore, if I recede, that I shall not again be called to account
for it by him. That I think it necessary to acquaint him, that if my
throwing myself upon Lady Betty Lawrance's protection, as he proposed, he
understands, that I mean directly to put myself into his power, he is very
much mistaken: for that there are many point in which I must be satisfied;
several matters to be adjusted, even after I have left this house, (if I
do leave it,) before I can think of giving him any particular
encouragement: that in the first place he must expect that I will do my
utmost to procure my father's reconciliation and approbation of my future
steps; and that I will govern myself entirely by his commands, in every
reasonable point, as much as if I had not left his house: that if he
imagines I shall not reserve to myself this liberty, but that my
withdrawing is to give him any advantages which he would not otherwise
have had; I am determined to stay where I am, and abide the event, in
hopes that my friends will still accept of my reiterated promise never to
marry him, or any body else, without their consent.</p>
<p>This I will deposit as soon as I can. And as he thinks things are near
their crisis, I dare say it will not be long before I have an answer to
it.</p>
<p>FRIDAY, FOUR O'CLOCK.</p>
<p>I am really ill. I was used to make the best of any little accidents that
befel me, for fear of making my then affectionate friends uneasy: but now
I shall make the worst of my indisposition, in hopes to obtain a
suspension of the threatened evil of Wednesday next. And if I do obtain
it, will postpone my appointment with Mr. Lovelace.</p>
<p>Betty has told them that I am very much indisposed. But I have no pity
from any body.</p>
<p>I believe I am become the object of every one's aversion; and that they
would all be glad if I were dead. Indeed I believe it. 'What ails the
perverse creature?' cries one:—'Is she love-sick?' another.</p>
<p>I was in the ivy summer-house, and came out shivering with cold, as if
aguishly affected. Betty observed this, and reported it.—'O no
matter!—Let her shiver on!—Cold cannot hurt her. Obstinacy
will defend her from harm. Perverseness is a bracer to a love-sick girl,
and more effectual than the cold bath to make hardy, although the
constitution be ever so tender.'</p>
<p>This was said by a cruel brother, and heard said by the dearer friends of
one, for whom, but a few months ago, every body was apprehensive at the
least blast of wind to which she exposed herself!</p>
<p>Betty, it must be owned, has an admirable memory on these occasions.
Nothing of this nature is lost by her repetition: even the very air with
which she repeats what she hears said, renders it unnecessary to ask, who
spoke this or that severe thing.</p>
<p>FRIDAY, SIX O'CLOCK.</p>
<p>My aunt, who again stays all night, just left me. She came to tell me the
result of my friends' deliberations about me. It is this:</p>
<p>Next Wednesday morning they are all to be assembled: to wit, my father,
mother, my uncles, herself, and my uncle Hervey; my brother and sister of
course: my good Mrs. Norton is likewise to be admitted: and Dr. Lewen is
to be at hand, to exhort me, it seems, if there be occasion: but my aunt
is not certain whether he is to be among them, or to tarry till called in.</p>
<p>When this awful court is assembled, the poor prisoner is to be brought in,
supported by Mrs. Norton; who is to be first tutored to instruct me in the
duty of a child; which it seems I have forgotten.</p>
<p>Nor is the success at all doubted, my aunt says: since it is not believed
that I can be hardened enough to withstand the expostulations of so
venerable a judicature, although I have withstood those of several of them
separately. And still the less, as she hints at extraordinary
condescensions from my father. But what condescensions, even from my
father, can induce me to make such a sacrifice as is expected from me?</p>
<p>Yet my spirits will never bear up, I doubt, at such a tribunal—my
father presiding in it.</p>
<p>Indeed I expected that my trials would not be at an end till he had
admitted me into his awful presence.</p>
<p>What is hoped from me, she says, is, that I will cheerfully, on Tuesday
night, if not before, sign the articles; and so turn the succeeding day's
solemn convention into a day of festivity. I am to have the license sent
me up, however, and once more the settlements, that I may see how much in
earnest they are.</p>
<p>She further hinted, that my father himself would bring up the settlements
for me to sign.</p>
<p>O my dear! what a trial will this be!—How shall I be able to refuse
my father the writing of my name?—To my father, from whose presence
I have been so long banished!—He commanding and entreating, perhaps,
in a breath!—How shall I be able to refuse this to my father?</p>
<p>They are sure, she says, something is working on Mr. Lovelace's part, and
perhaps on mine: and my father would sooner follow to the grave, than see
me his wife.</p>
<p>I said, I was not well: that the very apprehensions of these trials were
already insupportable to me; and would increase upon me, as the time
approached; and I was afraid I should be extremely ill.</p>
<p>They had prepared themselves for such an artifice as that, was my aunt's
unkind word; and she could assure me, it would stand me in no stead.</p>
<p>Artifice! repeated I: and this from my aunt Hervey?</p>
<p>Why, my dear, said she, do you think people are fools?—Can they not
see how dismally you endeavour to sigh yourself down within-doors?—How
you hang down your sweet face [those were the words she was pleased to
use] upon your bosom?—How you totter, as it were, and hold by this
chair, and by that door post, when you know that any body sees you? [This,
my dear Miss Howe, is an aspersion to fasten hypocrisy and contempt upon
me: my brother's or sister's aspersion!—I am not capable of arts so
low.] But the moment you are down with your poultry, or advancing upon
your garden-walk, and, as you imagine, out of every body's sight, it is
seem how nimbly you trip along; and what an alertness governs all your
motions.</p>
<p>I should hate myself, said I, were I capable of such poor artifices as
these. I must be a fool to use them, as well as a mean creature; for have
I not had experience enough, that my friends are incapable of being moved
in much more affecting instances?—But you'll see how I shall be by
Tuesday.</p>
<p>My dear, you will not offer any violence to your health?—I hope, God
has given you more grace than to do that.</p>
<p>I hope he has, Madam. But there is violence enough offered, and
threatened, to affect my health; and so it will be found, without my
needing to have recourse to any other, or to artifice either.</p>
<p>I'll only tell you one thing, my dear: and that is, ill or well, the
ceremony will probably be performed before Wednesday night:—but
this, also, I will tell you, although beyond my present commission, That
Mr. Solmes will be under an engagement (if you should require it of him as
a favour) after the ceremony is passed, and Lovelace's hopes thereby
utterly extinguished, to leave you at your father's, and return to his own
house every evening, until you are brought to a full sense of your duty,
and consent to acknowledge your change of name.</p>
<p>There was no opening of my lips to such a speech as this. I was dumb.</p>
<p>And these, my dear Miss Howe, are they who, some of them at least, have
called me a romantic girl!—This is my chimerical brother, and wise
sister; both joining their heads together, I dare say. And yet, my aunt
told me, that the last part was what took in my mother: who had, till that
last expedient was found out, insisted, that her child should not be
married, if, through grief or opposition, she should be ill, or fall into
fits.</p>
<p>This intended violence my aunt often excused, by the certain information
they pretended to have, of some plots or machinations, that were ready to
break out, from Mr. Lovelace:* the effects of which were thus cunningly to
be frustrated.</p>
<p>* It may not be amiss to observe in this place, that Mr.<br/>
Lovelace artfully contrived to drive the family on, by<br/>
permitting his and their agent Leman to report machinations,<br/>
which he had neither intention nor power to execute.<br/></p>
<p>FRIDAY, NINE O'CLOCK.</p>
<p>And now, my dear, what shall I conclude upon? You see how determined—But
how can I expect your advice will come time enough to stand me in any
stead? For here I have been down, and already have another letter from Mr.
Lovelace [the man lives upon the spot, I think:] and I must write to him,
either that I will or will not stand to my first resolution of escaping
hence on Monday next. If I let him know that I will not, (appearances so
strong against him and for Solmes, even stronger than when I made the
appointment,) will it not be justly deemed my own fault, if I am compelled
to marry their odious man? And if any mischief ensue from Mr. Lovelace's
rage and disappointment, will it not lie at my door?—Yet, he offers
so fair!—Yet, on the other hand, to incur the censure of the world,
as a giddy creature—but that, as he hints, I have already incurred—What
can I do?—Oh! that my cousin Morden—But what signifies
wishing?</p>
<p>I will here give you the substance of Mr. Lovelace's letter. The letter
itself I will send, when I have answered it; but that I will defer doing
as long as I can, in hopes of finding reason to retract an appointment on
which so much depends. And yet it is necessary you should have all before
you as I go along, that you may be the better able to advise me in this
dreadful crisis.</p>
<p>'He begs my pardon for writing with so much assurance; attributing it to
his unbounded transport; and entirely acquiesces to me in my will. He is
full of alternatives and proposals. He offers to attend me directly to
Lady Betty's; or, if I had rather, to my own estate; and that my Lord M.
shall protect me there.' [He knows not, my dear, my reasons for rejecting
this inconsiderate advice.] 'In either case, as soon as he sees me safe,
he will go up to London, or whither I please; and not come near me, but by
my own permission; and till I am satisfied in every thing I am doubtful
of, as well with regard to his reformation, as to settlements, &c.</p>
<p>'To conduct me to you, my dear, is another of his proposals, not doubting,
he says, but your mother will receive me:* or, if that be not agreeable to
you, or to your mother, or to me, he will put me into Mr. Hickman's
protection; whom, no doubt he says, you can influence; and that it may be
given out, that I have gone to Bath, or Bristol, or abroad; wherever I
please.</p>
<p>* See Note in Letter V. of this Volume.<br/></p>
<p>'Again, if it be more agreeable, he proposes to attend me privately to
London, where he will procure handsome lodgings for me, and both his
cousins Montague to receive me in them, and to accompany me till all shall
be adjusted to my mind; and till a reconciliation shall be effected; which
he assures me nothing shall be wanting in him to facilitate, greatly as he
has been insulted by all my family.</p>
<p>'These several measures he proposes to my choice; as it was unlikely, he
says, that he could procure, in the time, a letter from Lady Betty, under
her own hand, to invite me in form to her house, unless he had been
himself to go to that lady for it; which, at this critical juncture, while
he is attending my commands, is impossible.</p>
<p>'He conjures me, in the most solemn manner, if I would not throw him into
utter despair, to keep to my appointment.</p>
<p>'However, instead of threatening my relations, or Solmes, if I recede, he
respectfully says, that he doubts not, but that, if I do, it will be upon
the reason, as he ought to be satisfied with; upon no slighter, he hopes,
than their leaving me at full liberty to pursue my own inclinations: in
which (whatever they shall be) he will entirely acquiesce; only
endeavouring to make his future good behaviour the sole ground for his
expectation of my favour.</p>
<p>'In short, he solemnly vows, that his whole view, at present, is to free
me from my imprisonment; and to restore me to my future happiness. He
declares, that neither the hopes he has of my future favour, nor the
consideration of his own and his family's honour, will permit him to
propose any thing that shall be inconsistent with my own most scrupulous
notions: and, for my mind's sake, should choose to have the proposed end
obtained by my friends declining to compel me. But that nevertheless, as
to the world's opinion, it is impossible to imagine that the behaviour of
my relations to me has not already brought upon my family those free
censures which they deserve, and caused the step which I am so scrupulous
about taking, to be no other than the natural and expected consequence of
their treatment of me.'</p>
<p>Indeed, I am afraid all this is true: and it is owing to some little
degree of politeness, that Mr. Lovelace does not say all he might on this
subject: for I have no doubt that I am the talk, and perhaps the bye-word
of half the county. If so, I am afraid I can now do nothing that will give
me more disgrace than I have already so causelessly received by their
indiscreet persecutions: and let me be whose I will, and do what I will, I
shall never wipe off the stain which my confinement, and the rigorous
usage I have received, have fixed upon me; at least in my own opinion.</p>
<p>I wish, if ever I am to be considered as one of the eminent family this
man is allied to, some of them do not think the worse of me for the
disgrace I have received. In that case, perhaps, I shall be obliged to
him, if he do not. You see how much this harsh, this cruel treatment from
my own family has humbled me! But perhaps I was too much exalted before.</p>
<p>Mr. Lovelace concludes, 'with repeatedly begging an interview with me; and
that, this night, if possible: an hour, he says, he is the more encouraged
to solicit for, as I had twice before made him hope for it. But whether he
obtain it or not, he beseeches me to choose one of the alternatives he
offers to my acceptance; and not to depart from my resolution of escaping
on Monday, unless the reason ceases on which I had taken it up; and that I
have a prospect of being restored to the favour of my friends; at least to
my own liberty, and freedom of choice.'</p>
<p>He renews all his vows and promises on this head in so earnest and so
solemn a manner, that (his own interest, and his family's honour, and
their favour for me, co-operating) I can have no room to doubt of his
sincerity.</p>
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