Mr. Solmes is here. He is to dine with his new relations, as Betty tells
me he already calls them.
He would have thrown himself in my way once more: but I hurried up to my
prison, in my return from my garden-walk, to avoid him.
I had, when in the garden, the curiosity to see if my letter were gone:
I cannot say with an intention to take it back again if it were not,
because I see not how I could do otherwise than I have done; yet, what a
caprice! when I found it gone, I began (as yesterday morning) to wish it
had not: for no other reason, I believe, than because it was out of my
power.
A strange diligence in this man!--He says, he almost lives upon the
place; and I think so too.
He mentions, as you will see in his letter, four several disguises,
which he puts on in one day. It is a wonder, nevertheless, that he has
not been seen by some of our tenants: for it is impossible that any
disguise can hide the gracefulness of his figure. But this is to be
said, that the adjoining grounds being all in our own hands, and no
common foot-paths near that part of the garden, and through the park and
coppice, nothing can be more bye and unfrequented.
Then they are less watchful, I believe, over my garden-walks, and my
poultry-visits, depending, as my aunt hinted, upon the bad character
they have taken so much pains to fasten upon Mr. Lovelace. This, they
think, (and justly think,) must fill me with doubts. And then the regard
I have hitherto had for my reputation is another of their securities.
Were it not for these two, they would not surely have used me as they
have done; and at the same time left me the opportunities which I have
several times had, to get away, had I been disposed to do so:* and,
indeed, their dependence on both these motives would have been well
founded, had they kept but tolerable measures with me.
* They might, no doubt, make a dependence upon the reasons
she gives: but their chief reliance was upon the vigilance
of their Joseph Leman; little imagining what an implement he
was of Mr. Lovelace.
Then, perhaps, they have no notion of the back-door; as it is seldom
opened, and leads to a place so pathless and lonesome.* If not, there
can be no other way to escape (if one would) unless by the plashy lane,
so full of springs, by which your servant reaches the solitary wood
house; to which lane one must descend from a high bank, that bounds the
poultry yard. For, as to the front-way, you know, one must pass through
the house to that, and in sight of the parlours, and the servants' hall;
and then have the open courtyard to go through, and, by means of the
iron-gate, be full in view, as one passes over the lawn, for a quarter
of a mile together; the young plantations of elms and limes affording
yet but little shade or covert.
* This, in another of her letters, (which neither is
inserted,) is thus described:--'A piece of ruins upon it,
the remains of an old chapel, now standing in the midst of
the coppice; here and there an over-grown oak, surrounded
with ivy and mistletoe, starting up, to sanctify, as it
were, the awful solemnness of the place: a spot, too, where
a man having been found hanging some years ago, it was used
to be thought of by us when children, and by the maid-
servants, with a degree of terror, (it being actually the
habitation of owls, ravens, and other ominous birds,) as
haunted by ghosts, goblins, specters: the genuine result of
the country loneliness and ignorance: notions which, early
propagated, are apt to leave impressions even upon minds
grown strong enough at the same time to despise the like
credulous follies in others.'
The Ivy Summer-house is the most convenient for this heart-affecting
purpose of any spot in the garden, as it is not far from the back-door,
and yet in another alley, as you may remember. Then it is seldom
resorted to by any body else, except in the summer-months, because it is
cool. When they loved me, they would often, for this reason, object to
my long continuance in it:--but now, it is no matter what becomes of me.
Besides, cold is a bracer, as my brother said yesterday.
Here I will deposit what I have written. Let me have your prayers, my
dear; and your approbation, or your censure, of the steps I have taken:
for yet it may not be quite too late to revoke the appointment. I am
Your most affectionate and faithful CL. HARLOWE.
Why will you send your servant empty-handed?