Let me go, Sir!--Why am I thus treated?--You design, I doubt not, with
your unmanly gripings, to hurt me, as you do: But again I ask, wherefore
is it that I am to be thus treated by you?
He tossed my hand from him with a whirl, that pained my very shoulder. I
wept, and held my other hand to the part.
Mr. Solmes blamed him. So did my uncle.
He had no patience, he said, with such a perverse one; and to think of
the reflections upon himself, before he entered. He had only given me
back the hand I had not deserved he should touch. It was one of my arts
to pretend to be so pained.
Mr. Solmes said, he would sooner give up all his hopes of me, than that
I should be used unkindly.--And he offered to plead in my behalf to them
both; and applied himself with a bow, as if for my approbation of his
interposition.
Interpose not, Mr. Solmes, said I, to save me from my brother's
violence. I cannot wish to owe an obligation to a man whose ungenerous
perseverance is the occasion of that violence, and of all my disgraceful
sufferings.
How generous in you, Mr. Solmes, said my brother, to interpose so kindly
in behalf of such an immovable spirit! I beg of you to persist in your
address--the unnatural brother called it address!--For all our family's
sake, and for her sake too, if you love her, persist!--Let us save her,
if possible, from ruining herself. Look at her person! [and he gazed at
me, from head to foot, pointing at me, as he referred to Mr. Solmes,]
think of her fine qualities!--all the world confesses them, and we all
gloried in her till now. She is worth saving; and, after two or three
more struggles, she will be yours, and take my word for it, will reward
your patience. Talk not, therefore, of giving up your hopes, for a
little whining folly. She has entered upon a parade, which she knows
not how to quit with a female grace. You have only her pride and her
obstinacy to encounter: and depend upon it, you will be as happy a man
in a fortnight, as a married man can be.
You have heard me say, my dear, that my brother has always taken a
liberty to reflect upon our sex, and upon matrimony!--He would not, if
he did not think it wit to do so!--Just as poor Mr. Wyerley, and others,
whom we both know, profane and ridicule scripture; and all to evince
their pretensions to the same pernicious talent, and to have it thought
they are too wise to be religious.
Mr. Solmes, with a self-satisfied air, presumptuously said, he would
suffer every thing, to oblige my family, and to save me: and doubted not
to be amply rewarded, could he be so happy as to succeed at last.
Mr. Solmes, said I, if you have any regard for your own happiness, (mine
is out of the question with you, you have not generosity enough to make
that any part of your scheme,) prosecute no father your address, as my
brother calls it. It is but too just to tell you, that I could not bring
my heart so much as to think of you, without the utmost disapprobation,
before I was used as I have been:--And can you think I am such a slave,
such a poor slave, as to be brought to change my mind by the violent
usage I have met with?
And you, Sir, turning to my brother, if you think that meekness always
indicates tameness; and that there is no magnanimity without bluster;
own yourself mistaken for once: for you shall have reason to judge from
henceforth, that a generous mind is not to be forced; and that--
No more, said the imperious wretch, I charge you, lifting up his hands
and eyes. Then turning to my uncle, Do you hear, Sir? this is your once
faultless niece! This is your favourite!
Mr. Solmes looked as if he know not what to think of the matter; and had
I been left alone with him, I saw plainly I could have got rid of him
easily enough.
My uncle came to me, looking up also to my face, and down to my feet:
and is it possible this can be you? All this violence from you, Miss
Clary?
Yes, it is possible, Sir--and, I will presume to say, this vehemence on
my side is but the natural consequence of the usage I have met with, and
the rudeness I am treated with, even in your presence, by a brother, who
has no more right to controul me, than I have to controul him.
This usage, cousin Clary, was not till all other means were tried with
you.
Tried! to what end, Sir?--Do I contend for any thing more than a mere
negative? You may, Sir, [turning to Mr. Solmes,] possibly you may be
induced the rather to persevere thus ungenerously, as the usage I have
met with for your sake, and what you have now seen offered to me by my
brother, will shew you what I can bear, were my evil destiny ever to
make me yours.
Lord, Madam, cried Solmes, [all this time distorted into twenty
different attitudes, as my brother and my uncle were blessing
themselves, and speaking only to each other by their eyes, and by their
working features; Lord, Madam,] what a construction is this!
A fair construction, Sir, interrupted I: for he that can see a person,
whom he pretends to value, thus treated, and approve of it, must be
capable of treating her thus himself. And that you do approve of it,
is evident by your declared perseverance, when you know I am confined,
banished, and insulted, in order to make me consent to be what I never
can be: and this, let me tell you, as I have often told others, not from
motives of obstinacy, but aversion.
Excuse me, Sir, turning to my uncle--to you, as to my father's brother,
I owe duty. I beg your pardon, but my brother; he shall not constrain
me.--And [turning to the unnatural wretch--I will call him wretch] knit
your brows, Sir, and frown all you will, I will ask you, would you, in
my case, make the sacrifices I am willing to make, to obtain every one's
favour? If not, what right have you to treat me thus; and to procure me
to be treated as I have been for so long a time past?
I had put myself by this time into great disorder: they were silent, and
seemed by their looks to want to talk to one another (walking about in
violent disorders too) between whiles. I sat down fanning myself, (as
it happened, against the glass,) and I could perceive my colour go and
come; and being sick to the very heart, and apprehensive of fainting, I
rung.
Betty came in. I called for a glass of water, and drank it: but nobody
minded me. I heard my brother pronounce the words, Art! Female Art!
to Solmes; which, together with the apprehension that he would not be
welcome, I suppose kept him back. Else I could see the man was affected.
And (still fearing I should faint) I arose, and taking hold of Betty's
arm, let me hold by you, Betty, said I: let me withdraw. And moved
with trembling feet towards the door, and then turned about, and made a
courtesy to my uncle--Permit me, Sir, said I, to withdraw.
Whither go you, Niece? said my uncle: we have not done with you yet.
I charge you depart not. Mr. Solmes has something to open to you, that
will astonish you--and you shall hear it.
Only, Sir, by your leave, for a few minutes into the air. I will return,
if you command it. I will hear all that I am to hear; that it may be
over now and for ever.--You will go with me, Betty?
And so, without any farther prohibition, I retired into the garden; and
there casting myself upon the first seat, and throwing Betty's apron
over my face, leaning against her side, my hands between hers, I gave
way to a violent burst of grief, or passion, or both; which, as it
seemed, saved my heart from breaking, for I was sensible of an immediate
relief.
I have already given you specimens of Mrs. Betty's impertinence. I shall
not, therefore, trouble you with more: for the wench, notwithstanding
this my distress, took great liberties with me, after she saw me a
little recovered, and as I walked farther into the garden; insomuch
that I was obliged to silence her by an absolute prohibition of saying
another word to me; and then she dropped behind me sullen and gloomy.
It was near an hour before I was sent for in again. The messenger was
my cousin Dolly Hervey, who, with an eye of compassion and respect, (for
Miss Hervey always loved me, and calls herself my scholar, as you know,)
told my company was desired.
Betty left us.
Who commands my attendance, Miss? said I--Have you not been in tears, my
dear?
Who can forbid tears? said she.
Why, what is the matter, cousin Dolly?--Sure, nobody is entitled to weep
in this family, but me!
Yes, I am, Madam, said she, because I love you.
I kissed her: And is it for me, my sweet Cousin, that you shed
tears?--There never was love lost between us: but tell me, what is
designed to be done with me, that I have this kind instance of your
compassion for me?
You must take no notice of what I tell you, said the dear girl: but my
mamma has been weeping for you, too, with me; but durst not let any body
see it: O my Dolly, said my mamma, there never was so set a malice
in man as in your cousin James Harlowe. They will ruin the flower and
ornament of their family.
As how, Miss Dolly?--Did she not explain herself?--As how, my dear?
Yes; she said, Mr. Solmes would have given up his claim to you; for he
said, you hated him, and there were no hopes; and your mamma was willing
he should; and to have you taken at your word, to renounce Mr. Lovelace
and to live single. My mamma was for it too; for they heard all that
passed between you and uncle Antony, and cousin James; saying, it was
impossible to think of prevailing upon you to have Mr. Solmes. Uncle
Harlowe seemed in the same way of thinking; at least, my mamma says he
did not say any thing to the contrary. But your papa was immovable, and
was angry at your mamma and mine upon it.--And hereupon your brother,
your sister, and my uncle Antony, joined in, and changed the scene
entirely. In short, she says, that Mr. Solmes had great matters engaged
to him. He owned, that you were the finest young lady in England, and
he would be content to be but little beloved, if he could not, after
marriage, engage your heart, for the sake of having the honour to call
you his but for one twelvemonth--I suppose he would break your heart the
next--for he is a cruel-hearted man, I am sure.
My friends may break my heart, cousin Dolly; but Mr. Solmes will never
have it in his power to break it.
I do not know that, Miss: you will have good luck to avoid having him,
by what I can find; for my mamma says, they are all now of one mind,
herself excepted; and she is forced to be silent, your papa and brother
are both so outrageous.
I am got above minding my brother, cousin Dolly:--he is but my brother.
But to my father I owe duty and obedience, if I could comply.
We are apt to be fond of any body that will side with us, when oppressed
or provoked. I always loved my cousin Dolly; but now she endeared
herself to me ten times more, by her soothing concern for me. I asked
what she would do, were she in my case?
Without hesitation, she replied, have Mr. Lovelace out of hand, and take
up her own estate, if she were me; and there would be an end to it.--And
Mr. Lovelace, she said, was a fine gentleman:--Mr. Solmes was not worthy
to buckle his shoes.
Miss Hervey told me further, that her mother was desired to come to me,
to fetch me in; but she excused herself. I should have all my friends,
she said, she believed, sit in judgment upon me.
I wish it had been so. But, as I have been told since, neither my father
for my mother would trust themselves with seeing me: the one it seems
for passion sake; my mother for tender considerations.
By this time we entered the house. Miss accompanied me into the parlour,
and left me, as a person devoted, I then thought.
Nobody was there. I sat down, and had leisure to weep; reflecting upon
what my cousin Dolly had told me.
They were all in my sister's parlour adjoining: for I heard a confused
mixture of voices, some louder than others, which drowned the more
compassionating accents.
Female accents I could distinguish the drowned ones to be. O my dear!
what a hard-hearted sex is the other! Children of the same parents, how
came they by their cruelty?--Do they get it by travel?--Do they get
it by conversation with one another?--Or how do they get it?--Yet my
sister, too, is as hard-hearted as any of them. But this may be no
exception neither: for she has been thought to be masculine in her air
and her spirit. She has then, perhaps, a soul of the other sex in a body
of ours. And so, for the honour of our own, will I judge of every
woman for the future, who imitating the rougher manners of men, acts
unbeseeming the gentleness of her own sex.
Forgive me, my dear friend, for breaking into my story by these
reflections. Were I rapidly to pursue my narration, without thinking,
without reflecting, I believe I should hardly be able to keep in my
right mind: since vehemence and passion would then be always uppermost;
but while I think as I write, I cool, and my hurry of spirits is
allayed.
I believe I was about a quarter of an hour enjoying my own comfortless
contemplations, before any body came in to me; for they seemed to be
in full debate. My aunt looked in first; O my dear, said she, are you
there? and withdrew hastily to apprize them of it.
And then (as agreed upon I suppose) in came my uncle Antony, crediting
Mr. Solmes with the words, Let me lead you in, my dear friend, having
hold of his hand; while the new-made beau awkwardly followed, but more
edgingly, as I may say, setting his feet mincingly, to avoid treading
upon his leader's heels. Excuse me, my dear, this seeming levity; but
those we do not love, appear in every thing ungraceful to us.
I stood up. My uncle looked very surly.--Sit down!--Sit down, Girl,
said he.--And drawing a chair near me, he placed his dear friend in it,
whether he would or not, I having taken my seat. And my uncle sat on the
other side of me.
Well, Niece, taking my hand, we shall have very little more to say to
you than we have already said, as to the subject that is so distasteful
to you--unless, indeed, you have better considered of the matter--And
first let me know if you have?
The matter wants no consideration, Sir.
Very well, very well, Madam! said my uncle, withdrawing his hands from
mine: Could I ever have thought of this from you?
For God's sake, dearest Madam, said Mr. Solmes, folding his hands--And
there he stopped.
For God's sake, what, Sir?--How came God's sake, and your sake, I pray
you, to be the same?
This silenced him. My uncle could only be angry; and that he was before.
Well, well, well, Mr. Solmes, said my uncle, no more of supplication.
You have not confidence enough to expect a woman's favour.
He then was pleased to hint what great things he had designed to do for
me; and that it was more for my sake, after he returned from the Indies,
than for the sake of any other of the family, that he had resolved
to live a single life.--But now, concluded he, that the perverse girl
despises all the great things it was once as much in my will, as it is
in my power, to do for her, I will change my measures.
I told him, that I most sincerely thanked him for all his kind
intentions to me: but that I was willing to resign all claim to any
other of his favours than kind looks and kind words.
He looked about him this way and that.
Mr. Solmes looked pitifully down.
But both being silent, I was sorry, I added, that I had too much reason
to say a very harsh thing, as I might be thought; which was, That if
he would but be pleased to convince my brother and sister, that he was
absolutely determined to alter his generous purposes towards me,
it might possibly procure me better treatment from both, than I was
otherwise likely to have.
My uncle was very much displeased. But he had not the opportunity to
express his displeasure, as he seemed preparing to do; for in came my
brother in exceeding great wrath; and called me several vile names. His
success hitherto, in his device against me, had set him above keeping
even decent measures.
Was this my spiteful construction? he asked--Was this the interpretation
I put upon his brotherly care of me, and concern for me, in order to
prevent my ruining myself?
It is, indeed it is, said I: I know no other way to account for your
late behaviour to me: and before your face, I repeat my request to my
uncle, and I will make it to my other uncle whenever I am permitted to
see him, that they will confer all their favours upon you, and upon my
sister; and only make me happy (it is all I wish for!) in their kind
looks, and kind words.
How they all gazed upon one another!--But could I be less peremptory
before the man?
And, as to your care and concern for me, Sir, turning to my brother;
once more I desire it not. You are but my brother. My father and mother,
I bless God, are both living; and were they not, you have given me
abundant reason to say, that you are the very last person I would wish
to have any concern for me.
How, Niece! And is a brother, an only brother, of so little
consideration with you, as this comes to? And ought he to have no
concern for his sister's honour, and the family's honour.
My honour, Sir!--I desire none of his concern for that! It never was
endangered till it had his undesired concern!--Forgive me, Sir--but when
my brother knows how to act like a brother, or behave like a gentleman,
he may deserve more consideration from me than it is possible for me now
to think he does.
I thought my brother would have beat me upon this: but my uncle stood
between us.
Violent girl, however, he called me--Who, said he, who would have
thought it of her?
Then was Mr. Solmes told, that I was unworthy of his pursuit.
But Mr. Solmes warmly took my part: he could not bear, he said, that I
should be treated so roughly.
And so very much did he exert himself on this occasion, and so patiently
was his warmth received by my brother, that I began to suspect, that it
was a contrivance to make me think myself obliged to him; and that this
might perhaps be one end of the pressed-for interview.
The very suspicion of this low artifice, violent as I was thought to be
before, put me still more out of patience; and my uncle and my brother
again praising his wonderful generosity, and his noble return of good
for evil, You are a happy man, Mr. Solmes, said I, that you can
so easily confer obligations upon a whole family, except upon one
ungrateful person of it, whom you seem to intend most to oblige; but
who being made unhappy by your favour, desires not to owe to you any
protection from the violence of a brother.
Then was I a rude, an ungrateful, and unworthy creature.
I own it all--all, all you can call me, or think me, Brother, do I own.
I own my unworthiness with regard to this gentleman. I take your word
for his abundant merit, which I have neither leisure nor inclination to
examine into--it may perhaps be as great as your own--but yet I cannot
thank him for his great mediation: For who sees not, looking at my
uncle, that this is giving himself a merit with every body at my
expense?
Then turning to my brother, who seemed surprised into silence by my
warmth, I must also acknowledge, Sir, the favour of your superabundant
care for me. But I discharge you of it; at least, while I have the
happiness of nearer and dearer relations. You have given me no reason to
think better of your prudence, than of my own. I am independent of you,
Sir, though I never desire to be so of my father: and although I wish
for the good opinion of my uncles, it is all I wish for from them: and
this, Sir, I repeat, to make you and my sister easy.
Instantly almost came in Betty, in a great hurry, looking at me as
spitefully as if she were my sister: Sir, said she to my brother, my
master desires to speak with you this moment at the door.
He went to that which led into my sister's parlour; and this sentence
I heard thundered from the mouth of one who had a right to all my
reverence: Son James, let the rebel be this moment carried away to my
brother's--this very moment--she shall not stay one hour more under my
roof!
I trembled; I was ready to sink. Yet, not knowing what I did, or said, I
flew to the door, and would have opened it: but my brother pulled it to,
and held it close by the key--O my Papa!--my dear Papa! said I, falling
upon my knees, at the door--admit your child to your presence!--Let me
but plead my cause at your feet!--Oh! reprobate not thus your distressed
daughter!
My uncle put his handkerchief to his eyes. Mr. Solmes made a still more
grievous face than he had before. But my brother's marble heart was
untouched.
I will not stir from my knees, continued I, without admission; at this
door I beg it!--Oh! let it be the door of mercy! and open it to me,
honoured Sir, I beseech you!--But this once, this once! although you
were afterwards to shut it against me for ever!
The door was endeavoured to be opened on the inside, which made my
brother let go the key on a sudden; and I pressing against it, (all
the time remaining on my knees,) fell flat on my face into the other
parlour; however without hurting myself. But every body was gone, except
Betty, who I suppose was the person that endeavoured to open the door.
She helped to raise me up; and when I was on my feet, I looked round
that apartment, and seeing nobody there, re-entered the other, leaning
upon her; and then threw myself into the chair which I had sat in
before; and my eyes overflowed, to my great relief: while my uncle
Antony, my brother, and Mr. Solmes, left me, and went to my other
relations.
What passed among them, I know not: but my brother came in by the time
I had tolerably recovered myself, with a settled and haughty gloom upon
his brow--Your father and mother command you instantly to prepare for
your uncle Antony's. You need not be solicitous about what you shall
take with you: you may give Betty your keys--Take them, Betty, if the
perverse one has them about her, and carry them to her mother. She will
take care to send every thing after you that you shall want--but another
night you will not be permitted to stay in this house.
I don't choose to give my keys to any body, except to my mother, and
into her own hands.--You see how much I am disordered. It may cost me
my life, to be hurried away so suddenly. I beg to be indulged till next
Monday at least.
That will not be granted you. So prepare for this very very night.
And give up your keys. Give them to me, Miss. I'll carry them to your
mother.
Excuse me, Brother. Indeed I won't.
Indeed you must. Have you any thing you are afraid should be seen by
your mother?
Not if I be permitted to attend her.
I'll make a report accordingly.
He went out.
In came Miss Dolly Hervey: I am sorry, Madam, to be the messenger--but
your mamma insists upon your sending up all the keys of your cabinet,
library, and drawers.
Tell my mother, that I yield them up to her commands: tell her, I
make no conditions with my mother: but if she finds nothing she shall
disapprove of, I beg that she will permit me to tarry here a few days
longer.--Try, my Dolly, [the dear girl sobbing with grief;] try if your
gentleness cannot prevail for me.
She wept still more, and said, It is sad, very sad, to see matters thus
carried!
She took the keys, and wrapped her arms about me; and begged me to
excuse her for her message; and would have said more; but Betty's
presence awed her, as I saw.
Don't pity me, my dear, said I. It will be imputed to you as a fault.
You see who is by.
The insolent wench scornfully smiled: One young lady pitying another
in things of this nature, looks promising in the youngest, I must needs
say.