Rowland, for that's the officer's name, told her, she had friends enow to
pay the debt, if she would write.
She would trouble nobody; she had no friends; was all they could get from
her, while Sally staid: but yet spoken with a patience of spirit, as if
she enjoyed her griefs.
The insolent creature went away, ordering them, in the lady's hearing, to
be very civil to her, and to let her want for nothing. Now had she, she
owned, the triumph of her heart over this haughty beauty, who kept them
all at such a distance in their own house!
What thinkest thou, Lovelace, of this!--This wretch's triumph was over a
Clarissa!
About six in the evening, Rowland's wife pressed her to drink tea. She
said, she had rather have a glass of water; for her tongue was ready to
cleave to the roof of her mouth.
The woman brought her a glass, and some bread and butter. She tried to
taste the latter; but could not swallow it: but eagerly drank the water;
lifting up her eyes in thankfulness for that!!!
The divine Clarissa, Lovelace,--reduced to rejoice for a cup of cold
water!--By whom reduced?
About nine o'clock she asked if any body were to be her bedfellow.
Their maid, if she pleased; or, as she was so weak and ill, the girl
should sit up with her, if she chose she should.
She chose to be alone both night and day, she said. But might she not be
trusted with the key of the room where she was to lie down; for she
should not put off her clothes!
That, they told her, could not be.
She was afraid not, she said.--But indeed she would not get away, if she
could.
They told me, that they had but one bed, besides that they lay in
themselves, (which they would fain have had her accept of,) and besides
that their maid lay in, in a garret, which they called a hole of a
garret: and that that one bed was the prisoner's bed; which they made
several apologies to me about. I suppose it is shocking enough.
But the lady would not lie in theirs. Was she not a prisoner? she said
--let her have the prisoner's room.
Yet they owned that she started, when she was conducted thither. But
recovering herself, Very well, said she--why should not all be of a
piece?--Why should not my wretchedness be complete?
She found fault, that all the fastenings were on the outside, and none
within; and said, she could not trust herself in a room where others
could come in at their pleasure, and she not go out. She had not been
used to it!!!
Dear, dear soul!--My tears flow as I write!----Indeed, Lovelace, she had
not been used to such treatment.
They assured her, that it was as much their duty to protect her from
other persons' insults, as from escaping herself.
Then they were people of more honour, she said, than she had been of late
used to.
She asked if they knew Mr. Lovelace?
No, was their answer.
Have you heard of him?
No.
Well, then, you may be good sort of folks in your way.
Pause here for a moment, Lovelace!--and reflect--I must.
***
Again they asked her if they should send any word to her lodgings?
These are my lodgings now; are they not?--was all her answer.
She sat up in a chair all night, the back against the door; having, it
seems, thrust a piece of a poker through the staples where a bolt had
been on the inside.
***
Next morning Sally and Polly both went to visit her.
She had begged of Sally, the day before, that she might not see Mrs.
Sinclair, nor Dorcas, nor the broken-toothed servant, called William.
Polly would have ingratiated herself with her; and pretended to be
concerned for her misfortunes. But she took no more notice of her than
of the other.
They asked if she had any commands?--If she had, she only need to mention
what they were, and she should be obeyed.
None at all, she said.
How did she like the people of the house? Were they civil to her?
Pretty well, considering she had no money to give them.
Would she accept of any money? they could put it to her account.
She would contract no debts.
Had she any money about her?
She meekly put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out half a guinea, and
a little silver. Yes, I have a little.----But here should be fees paid,
I believe. Should there not? I have heard of entrance-money to compound
for not being stript. But these people are very civil people, I fancy;
for they have not offered to take away my clothes.
They have orders to be civil to you.
It is very kind.
But we two will bail you, Miss, if you will go back with us to Mrs.
Sinclair's.
Not for the world!
Her's are very handsome apartments.
The fitter for those who own them!
These are very sad ones.
The fitter for me!
You may be happy yet, Miss, if you will.