By your last date of ten o'clock in your letter of this day, you could
not long have deposited it before Robin took it. He rode hard, and
brought it to be just as I had risen from table.
You may justly blame me for sending my messenger empty-handed, your
situation considered; and yet that very situation (so critical!) is
partly the reason for it: for indeed I knew not what to write, fit to
send you.
I have been inquiring privately, how to procure you a conveyance from
Harlowe-place, and yet not appear in it; knowing, that to oblige in
the fact, and to disoblige in the manner, is but obliging by halves: my
mother being moreover very suspicious, and very uneasy; made more so by
daily visits from your uncle Antony; who tells her, that every thing
is now upon the point of being determined; and hopes, that her daughter
will not so interfere, as to discourage your compliance with their
wills. This I came at by a way that I cannot take notice of, or both
should hear of it in a manner neither would like: and, without that, my
mother and I have had almost hourly bickerings.
I found more difficulty than I expected (as the time was confined, and
secrecy required, and as you so earnestly forbid me to accompany you in
your enterprise) in procuring you a vehicle. Had you not obliged me to
keep measures with my mother, I could have managed it with ease. I could
even have taken our own chariot, on one pretence or other, and put two
horses extraordinary to it, if I had thought fit; and I could, when we
had got to London, have sent it back, and nobody the wiser as to the
lodgings we might have taken.
I wish to the Lord you had permitted this. Indeed I think you are too
punctilious a great deal for you situation. Would you expect to enjoy
yourself with your usual placidness, and not to be ruffled, in an
hurricane which every moment threatens to blow your house down?
Had your distress sprung from yourself, that would have been another
thing. But when all the world knows where to lay the fault, this alters
the case.
How can you say I am happy, when my mother, to her power, is as much an
abettor of their wickedness to my dearest friend, as your aunt, or any
body else?--and this through the instigation of that odd-headed and
foolish uncle of yours, who [sorry creature that he is!] keeps her up
to resolutions which are unworthy of her, for an example to me, if it
please you. Is not this cause enough for me to ground a resentment upon,
sufficient to justify me for accompanying you; the friendship between us
so well known?
Indeed, my dear, the importance of the case considered, I must repeat,
that you are too nice. Don't they already think that your non-compliance
with their odious measures is owing a good deal to my advice? Have they
not prohibited our correspondence upon that very surmise? And have I,
but on your account, reason to value what they think?
Besides, What discredit have I to fear by such a step? What detriment?
Would Hickman, do you believe, refuse me upon it?--If he did, should
I be sorry for that?--Who is it, that has a soul, who would not be
affected by such an instance of female friendship?
But I should vex and disorder my mother!--Well, that is something: but
not more than she vexes and disorders me, on her being made an implement
by such a sorry creature, who ambles hither every day in spite to my
dearest friend--Woe be to both, if it be for a double end!--Chide me, if
you will: I don't care.
I say, and I insist upon it, such a step would ennoble your friend: and
if still you will permit it, I will take the office out of Lovelace's
hands; and, to-morrow evening, or on Monday before his time of
appointment takes place, will come in a chariot, or chaise: and then,
my dear, if we get off as I wish, will we make terms (and what terms we
please) with them all. My mother will be glad to receive her daughter
again, I warrant: and Hickman will cry for joy on my return; or he shall
for sorrow.
But you are so very earnestly angry with me for proposing such a step,
and have always so much to say for your side of any question, that I am
afraid to urge it farther.--Only be so good (let me add) as to encourage
me to resume it, if, upon farther consideration, and upon weighing
matters well, (and in this light, whether best to go off with me,
or with Lovelace,) you can get over your punctilious regard for my
reputation. A woman going away with a woman is not so discreditable a
thing, surely! and with no view, but to avoid the fellows!--I say, only
to be so good, as to consider this point; and if you can get over your
scruples on my account, do. And so I will have done with this argument
for the present; and apply myself to some of the passages in yours.
A time, I hope, will come, that I shall be able to read your affecting
narratives without the impatient bitterness which now boils over in my
heart, and would flow to my pen, were I to enter into the particulars of
what you write. And indeed I am afraid of giving you my advice at all,
or telling you what I should do in your case (supposing you will still
refuse my offer; finding too what you have been brought or rather driven
to without it); lest any evil should follow it: in which case, I
should never forgive myself. And this consideration has added to my
difficulties in writing to you now you are upon such a crisis, and yet
refuse the only method--but I said, I would not for the present touch
any more that string. Yet, one word more, chide me if you please: If any
harm betide you, I shall for ever blame my mother--indeed I shall--and
perhaps yourself, if you do not accept my offer.
But one thing, in your present situation and prospects, let me advise:
It is this, that if you do go off with Mr. Lovelace, you take the first
opportunity to marry. Why should you not, when every body will know by
whose assistance, and in whose company, you leave your father's house,
go whithersoever you will?--You may indeed keep him at a distance, until
settlements are drawn, and such like matters are adjusted to your mind:
but even these are matters of less consideration in your particular
case, than they would be in that of most others: and first, because, be
his other faults what they will, nobody thinks him an ungenerous man:
next, because the possession of your estate must be given up to you
as soon as your cousin Morden comes; who, as your trustee, will see
it done; and done upon proper terms: 3dly, because there is no want of
fortune on his side: 4thly, because all his family value you, and are
extremely desirous that you should be their relation: 5thly, because he
makes no scruple of accepting you without conditions. You see how he has
always defied your relations: [I, for my own part, can forgive him for
the fault: nor know I, if it be not a noble one:] and I dare say, he
had rather call you his, without a shilling, than be under obligation
to those whom he has full as little reason to love, as they have to love
him. You have heard, that his own relations cannot make his proud spirit
submit to owe any favour to them.
For all these reasons, I think, you may the less stand upon previous
settlements. It is therefore my absolute opinion, that, if you do
withdraw with him, (and in that case you must let him be judge when he
can leave you with safety, you'll observe that,) you should not postpone
the ceremony.
Give this matter your most serious consideration. Punctilio is out of
doors the moment you are out of your father's house. I know how justly
severe you have been upon those inexcusable creatures, whose giddiness
and even want of decency have made them, in the same hour as I may
say, leap from a parent's window to a husband's bed--but considering
Lovelace's character, I repeat my opinion, that your reputation in the
eye of the world requires no delay be made in this point, when once you
are in his power.