I will now resume my narrative of proceedings here.--My brother being
in a good way, although you may be sure that his resentments are rather
heightened than abated by the galling disgrace he has received, my
friends (my father and uncles, however, if not my brother and sister)
begin to think that I have been treated unkindly. My mother been so good
as to tell me this since I sent away my last.
Nevertheless I believe they all think that I receive letters from Mr.
Lovelace. But Lord M. being inclined rather to support than to blame his
nephew, they seem to be so much afraid of Mr. Lovelace, that they do
not put it to me whether I do or not; conniving on the contrary, as it
should seem, at the only method left to allay the vehemence of a spirit
which they have so much provoked: For he still insists upon satisfaction
from my uncles; and this possibly (for he wants not art) as the best way
to be introduced again with some advantage into our family. And indeed
my aunt Hervey has put it to my mother, whether it were not best to
prevail upon my brother to take a turn to his Yorkshire estate (which he
was intending to do before) and to stay there till all is blown over.
But this is very far from being his intention: For he has already
began to hint again, that he shall never be easy or satisfied till I
am married; and, finding neither Mr. Symmes nor Mr. Mullins will be
accepted, has proposed Mr. Wyerley once more, on the score of his
great passion for me. This I have again rejected; and but yesterday he
mentioned one who has applied to him by letter, making high offers. This
is Mr. Solmes; Rich Solmes you know they call him. But this application
has not met with the attention of one single soul.
If none of his schemes of getting me married take effect, he has
thoughts, I am told, of proposing to me to go to Scotland, that as the
compliment is, I may put his house there in such order as our own is in.
But this my mother intends to oppose for her own sake; because having
relieved her, as she is pleased to say, of the household cares (for
which my sister, you know, has no turn) they must again devolve upon her
if I go. And if she did not oppose it, I should; for, believe me, I have
no mind to be his housekeeper; and I am sure, were I to go with him, I
should be treated rather as a servant than a sister:--perhaps, not the
better because I am his sister. And if Mr. Lovelace should follow me,
things might be worse than they are now.
But I have besought my mother, who is apprehensive of Mr. Lovelace's
visits, and for fear of whom my uncles never stir out without arms and
armed servants (my brother also being near well enough to go abroad),
to procure me permission to be your guest for a fortnight, or so.--Will
your mother, think you, my dear, give me leave?
I dare not ask to go to my dairy-house, as my good grandfather would
call it: for I am now afraid of being thought to have a wish to enjoy
that independence to which his will has entitled me: and as matter are
situated, such a wish would be imputed to my regard to the man to whom
they have now so great an antipathy. And indeed could I be as easy and
happy here as I used to be, I would defy that man and all his sex; and
never repent that I have given the power of my fortune into my father's
hands.
***
Just now, my mother has rejoiced me with the news that my requested
permission is granted. Every one thinks it best that I should go to you,
except my brother. But he was told, that he must not expect to rule in
every thing. I am to be sent for into the great parlour, where are my
two uncles and my aunt Hervey, and to be acquainted with this concession
in form.
You know, my dear, that there is a good deal of solemnity among us.
But never was there a family more united in its different branches than
ours. Our uncles consider us as their own children, and declare that it
is for our sakes that they live single. So that they are advised
with upon every article relating to us, or that may affect us. It is
therefore the less wonder, at a time when they understand that Mr.
Lovelace is determined to pay us an amicable visit, as he calls it, (but
which I am sure cannot end amicably,) that they should both be consulted
upon the permission I had desired to attend you.
***
I will acquaint you with what passed at the general leave given me to be
your guest. And yet I know that you will not love my brother the better
for my communication. But I am angry with him myself, and cannot help
it. And besides, it is proper to let you know the terms I go upon, and
their motives for permitting me to go.
Clary, said my mother, as soon as I entered the great parlour, your
request to go to Miss Howe's for a few days has been taken into
consideration, and granted--
Much against my liking, I assure you, said my brother, rudely
interrupting her.
Son James! said my father, and knit his brows.
He was not daunted. His arm was in a sling. He often has the mean art
to look upon that, when any thing is hinted that may be supposed to lead
toward the least favour to or reconciliation with Mr. Lovelace.--Let the
girl then [I am often the girl with him] be prohibited seeing that vile
libertine.
Nobody spoke.
Do you hear, sister Clary? taking their silence for approbation of what
he had dictated; you are not to receive visits from Lord M.'s nephew.
Every one still remained silent.
Do you so understand the license you have, Miss? interrogated he.
I would be glad, Sir, said I, to understand that you are my
brother;--and that you would understand that you are only my brother.
O the fond, fond heart! with a sneer of insult, lifting up his hands.
Sir, said I, to my father, to your justice I appeal: If I have deserved
reflection, let me be not spared. But if I am to be answerable for the
rashness--
No more!--No more of either side, said my father. You are not to receive
the visits of that Lovelace, though.--Nor are you, son James, to reflect
upon your sister. She is a worthy child.
Sir, I have done, replied he:--and yet I have her honour at heart, as
much as the honour of the rest of the family.
And hence, Sir, retorted I, your unbrotherly reflections upon me?
Well, but you observe, Miss, said he, that it is not I, but your father,
that tells you, that you are not to receive the visits of that Lovelace.
Cousin Harlowe, said my aunt Hervey, allow me to say, that my cousin
Clary's prudence may be confided in.