You hesitate--You answer me not--You cannot answer me.--Rising--Never
more will I look upon you with an eye of favour--
O Madam, Madam! Kill me not with your displeasure--I would not, I need
not, hesitate one moment, did I not dread the inference, if I answer
you as you wish.--Yet be that inference what it will, your threatened
displeasure will make me speak. And I declare to you, that I know not my
own heart, if it not be absolutely free. And pray, let me ask my dearest
Mamma, in what has my conduct been faulty, that, like a giddy creature,
I must be forced to marry, to save me from--From what? Let me beseech
you, Madam, to be the guardian of my reputation! Let not your Clarissa
be precipitated into a state she wishes not to enter into with any man!
And this upon a supposition that otherwise she shall marry herself, and
disgrace her whole family.
Well then, Clary [passing over the force of my plea] if your heart be
free--
O my beloved Mamma, let the usual generosity of your dear heart operate
in my favour. Urge not upon me the inference that made me hesitate.
I won't be interrupted, Clary--You have seen in my behaviour to you,
on this occasion, a truly maternal tenderness; you have observed that
I have undertaken the task with some reluctance, because the man is not
every thing; and because I know you carry your notions of perfection in
a man too high--
Dearest Madam, this one time excuse me!--Is there then any danger that I
should be guilty of an imprudent thing for the man's sake you hint at?
Again interrupted!--Am I to be questioned, and argued with? You know
this won't do somewhere else. You know it won't. What reason then,
ungenerous girl, can you have for arguing with me thus, but because you
think from my indulgence to you, you may?
What can I say? What can I do? What must that cause be that will not
bear being argued upon?
Again! Clary Harlowe!
Dearest Madam, forgive me: it was always my pride and my pleasure to
obey you. But look upon that man--see but the disagreeableness of his
person--
Now, Clary, do I see whose person you have in your eye!--Now is Mr.
Solmes, I see, but comparatively disagreeable; disagreeable only as
another man has a much more specious person
But, Madam, are not his manners equally so?--Is not his person the true
representative of his mind?--That other man is not, shall not be, any
thing to me, release me but from this one man, whom my heart, unbidden,
resists.
Condition thus with your father. Will he bear, do you think, to be thus
dialogued with? Have I not conjured you, as you value my peace--What
is it that I do not give up?--This very task, because I apprehended you
would not be easily persuaded, is a task indeed upon me. And will you
give up nothing? Have you not refused as many as have been offered to
you? If you would not have us guess for whom, comply; for comply you
must, or be looked upon as in a state of defiance with your whole
family.
And saying this, she arose and went from me. But at the chamber-door
stopt; and turned back: I will not say below in what a disposition I
leave you. Consider of every thing. The matter is resolved upon. As you
value your father's blessing and mine, and the satisfaction of all the
family, resolve to comply. I will leave you for a few moments. I will
come up to you again. See that I find you as I wish to find you; and
since your heart is free, let your duty govern it.
In about half an hour, my mother returned. She found me in tears.
She took my hand: It is my part evermore, said she, to be of the
acknowledging side. I believe I have needlessly exposed myself to your
opposition, by the method I have taken with you. I first began as if I
expected a denial, and by my indulgence brought it upon myself.
Do not, my dearest Mamma! do not say so!
Were the occasion for this debate, proceeded she, to have risen from
myself; were it in my power to dispense with your compliance; you too
well know what you can do with me.
Would any body, my dear Miss Howe, wish to marry, who sees a wife of
such a temper, and blessed with such an understanding as my mother is
noted for, not only deprived of all power, but obliged to be even active
in bringing to bear a point of high importance, which she thinks ought
not to be insisted upon?
When I came to you a second time, proceeded she, knowing that your
opposition would avail you nothing, I refused to hear your reasons: and
in this I was wrong too, because a young creature who loves to reason,
and used to love to be convinced by reason, ought to have all her
objections heard: I now therefore, this third time, see you; and am
come resolved to hear all you have to say: and let me, my dear, by my
patience engage your gratitude; your generosity, I will call it, because
it is to you I speak, who used to have a mind wholly generous.--Let me,
if your heart be really free, let me see what it will induce you to do
to oblige me: and so as you permit your usual discretion to govern you,
I will hear all you have to say; but with this intimation, that say what
you will, it will be of no avail elsewhere.
What a dreadful saying is that! But could I engage your pity, Madam, it
would be somewhat.
You have as much of my pity as of my love. But what is person, Clary,
with one of your prudence, and your heart disengaged?
Should the eye be disgusted, when the heart is to be engaged?--O
Madam, who can think of marrying when the heart is shocked at the
first appearance, and where the disgust must be confirmed by every
conversation afterwards?
This, Clary, is owing to your prepossession. Let me not have cause
to regret that noble firmness of mind in so young a creature which I
thought your glory, and which was my boast in your character. In this
instance it would be obstinacy, and want of duty.--Have you not made
objections to several--