At a little after two, when the whole house was still, or seemed to be
so, and, as it proved, my Clarissa in bed, and fast asleep; I also in a
manner undressed (as indeed I was for an hour before) and in my gown and
slippers, though, to oblige thee, writing on!--I was alarmed by a
trampling noise over head, and a confused buz of mixed voices, some
louder than others, like scolding, and little short of screaming. While
I was wondering what could be the matter, down stairs ran Dorcas, and at
my door, in an accent rather frightedly and hoarsely inward than shrilly
clamorous, she cried out Fire! Fire! And this the more alarmed me, as
she seemed to endeavour to cry out louder, but could not.
My pen (its last scrawl a benediction on my beloved) dropped from my
fingers; and up started I; and making but three steps to the door,
opening it, cried out, Where! Where! almost as much terrified as the
wench; while she, more than half undrest, her petticoats in her hand,
unable to speak distinctly, pointed up stairs.
I was there in a moment, and found all owing to the carelessness of Mrs.
Sinclair's cook-maid, who having sat up to read the simple History of
Dorastus and Faunia, when she should have been in bed, had set fire to an
old pair of calico window-curtains.
She had had the presence of mind, in her fright, to tear down the half-
burnt vallens, as well as curtains, and had got them, though blazing,
into the chimney, by the time I came up; so that I had the satisfaction
to find the danger happily over.
Mean time Dorcas, after she had directed me up stairs, not knowing the
worst was over, and expecting every minute the house would be in a blaze,
out of tender regard for her lady, [I shall for ever love the wench for
it,] ran to her door, and rapping loudly at it, in a recovered voice,
cried out, with a shrillness equal to her love, Fire! Fire! The house is
on fire!--Rise, Madam!--This instant rise--if you would not be burnt in
your bed!
No sooner had she made this dreadful out-cry, but I heard her lady's
door, with hasty violence, unbar, unbolt, unlock, and open, and my
charmer's voice sounding like that of one going into a fit.
Thou mayest believe that I was greatly affected. I trembled with concern
for her, and hastened down faster than the alarm of fire had made me run
up, in order to satisfy her that all the danger was over.
When I had flown down to her chamber-door, there I beheld the most
charming creature in the world, supporting herself on the arm of the
gasping Dorcas, sighing, trembling, and ready to faint, with nothing on
but an under petticoat, her lovely bosom half open, and her feet just
slipped into her shoes. As soon as she saw me, she panted, and
struggled to speak; but could only say, O Mr. Lovelace! and down was
ready to sink.
I clasped her in my arms with an ardour she never felt before: My dearest
life! fear nothing: I have been up--the danger is over--the fire is got
under--and how, foolish devil, [to Dorcas,] could you thus, by your
hideous yell, alarm and frighten my angel!
O Jack! how her sweet bosom, as I clasped her to mine, heaved and panted!
I could even distinguish her dear heart flutter, flutter, against mine;
and, for a few minutes, I feared she would go into fits.
Lest the half-lifeless charmer should catch cold in this undress, I
lifted her to her bed, and sat down by her upon the side of it,
endeavouring with the utmost tenderness, as well of action as expression,
to dissipate her terrors.
But what did I get by this my generous care of her, and my successful
endeavour to bring her to herself?--Nothing (ungrateful as she was!) but
the most passionate exclamations: for we had both already forgotten the
occasion, dreadful as it was, which had thrown her into my arms: I, from
the joy of encircling the almost disrobed body of the loveliest of her
sex; she, from the greater terrors that arose from finding herself in my
arms, and both seated on the bed, from which she had been so lately
frighted.
And now, Belford, reflect upon the distance at which the watchful charmer
had hitherto kept me: reflect upon my love, and upon my sufferings for
her: reflect upon her vigilance, and how long I had laid in wait to elude
it; the awe I had stood in, because of her frozen virtue and
over-niceness; and that I never before was so happy with her; and then
think how ungovernable must be my transports in those happy moments!--And
yet, in my own account, I was both decent and generous.
But, far from being affected, as I wished, by an address so fervent,
(although from a man from whom she had so lately owned a regard, and with
whom, but an hour or two before, she had parted with so much
satisfaction,) I never saw a bitterer, or more moving grief, when she
came fully to herself.
She appealed to Heaven against my treachery, as she called it; while I,
by the most solemn vows, pleaded my own equal fright, and the reality of
the danger that had alarmed us both.
She conjured me, in the most solemn and affecting manner, by turns
threatening and soothing, to quit her apartment, and permit her to hide
herself from the light, and from every human eye.
I besought her pardon, yet could not avoid offending; and repeatedly
vowed, that the next morning's sun should witness our espousals. But
taking, I suppose, all my protestations of this kind as an indication
that I intended to proceed to the last extremity, she would hear nothing
that I said; but, redoubling her struggles to get from me, in broken
accents, and exclamations the most vehement, she protested, that she
would not survive what she called a treatment so disgraceful and
villanous; and, looking all wildly round her, as if for some instrument
of mischief, she espied a pair of sharp-pointed scissors on a chair by
the bed-side, and endeavoured to catch them up, with design to make her
words good on the spot.
Seeing her desperation, I begged her to be pacified; that she would hear
me speak but one word; declaring that I intended no dishonour to her: and
having seized the scissors, I threw them into the chimney; and she still
insisting vehemently upon my distance, I permitted her to take the chair.
But, O the sweet discomposure!--Her bared shoulders, and arms so
inimitably fair and lovely: her spread hands crossed over her charming
neck; yet not half concealing its glossy beauties: the scanty coat, as
she rose from me, giving the whole of her admirable shape, and fine-
turn'd limbs: her eyes running over, yet seeming to threaten future
vengeance:
and at last her lips uttering what every indignant look and glowing
feature portended: exclaiming as if I had done the worst I could do, and
vowing never to forgive me; wilt thou wonder if I resumed the incensed,
the already too-much-provoked fair-one?
I did; and clasped her once more to my bosom: but, considering the
delicacy of her frame, her force was amazing, and showed how much in
earnest she was in her resentment; for it was with the utmost difficulty
that I was able to hold her: nor could I prevent her sliding through my
arms, to fall upon her knees: which she did at my feet: and there in the
anguish of her soul, her streaming eyes lifted up to my face with
supplicating softness, hands folded, dishevelled hair; for her night
head-dress having fallen off in her struggling, her charming tresses fell
down in naturally shining ringlets, as if officious to conceal the
dazzling beauties of her neck and shoulders; her lovely bosom too heaving
with sighs, and broken sobs, as if to aid her quivering lips in pleading
for her--in this manner, but when her grief gave way to her speech, in
words pronounced with that emphatical propriety, which distinguishes this
admirable creature in her elocution from all the women I ever heard
speak, did she implore my compassion and my honour.
'Consider me, dear Lovelace,' [dear was her charming word!] 'on my knees
I beg you to consider me as a poor creature who has no protector but you;
who has no defence but your honour: by that honour! by your humanity! by
all you have vowed! I conjure you not to make me abhor myself! not to
make me vile in my own eyes!'