My dearest Mamma!--My duty will not permit me so far to suppose my
father arbitrary, as to make a plea of that arbitrariness to you--
How now, Clary!--O girl!
Your patience, my dearest Mamma:--you were pleased to say, you would
hear me with patience.--PERSON in a man is nothing, because I am
supposed to be prudent: so my eye is to be disgusted, and my reason not
convinced--
Girl, girl!
Thus are my imputed good qualities to be made my punishment; and I am to
wedded to a monster--
[Astonishing!--Can this, Clarissa, be from you?
The man, Madam, person and mind, is a monster in my eye.]--And that
I may be induced to bear this treatment, I am to be complimented with
being indifferent to all men: yet, at other times, and to serve other
purposes, be thought prepossessed in favour of a man against whose moral
character lie just objections.--Confined, as if, like the giddiest of
creatures, I would run away with this man, and disgrace my whole family!
O my dearest Mamma! who can be patient under such treatment?
Now, Clary, I suppose you will allow me to speak. I think I have had
patience indeed with you.--Could I have thought--but I will put all upon
a short issue. Your mother, Clarissa, shall shew you an example of that
patience you so boldly claim from her, without having any yourself.
O my dear, how my mother's condescension distressed me at the
time!--Infinitely more distressed me, than rigour could have done. But
she knew, she was to be sure aware, that she was put upon a harsh, upon
an unreasonable service, let me say, or she would not, she could not,
have had so much patience with me.
Let me tell you then, proceeded she, that all lies in a small compass,
as your father said.--You have been hitherto, as you are pretty ready to
plead, a dutiful child. You have indeed had no cause to be otherwise. No
child was ever more favoured. Whether you will discredit all your past
behaviour; whether, at a time and upon an occasion, that the highest
instance of duty is expected from you (an instance that is to crown
all); and when you declare that your heart is free--you will give that
instance; or whether, having a view to the independence you may claim,
(for so, Clary, whatever be your motive, it will be judged,) and which
any man you favour, can assert for you against us all; or rather for
himself in spite of us--whether, I say, you will break with us all;
and stand in defiance of a jealous father, needlessly jealous, I will
venture to say, of the prerogatives of his sex, as to me, and still ten
times more jealous of the authority of a father;--this is now the point
with us. You know your father has made it a point; and did he ever give
up one he thought he had a right to carry?
Too true, thought I to myself! And now my brother has engaged my father,
his fine scheme will walk alone, without needing his leading-strings;
and it is become my father's will that I oppose; not my brother's
grasping views.
I was silent. To say the truth, I was just then sullenly silent. My
heart was too big. I thought it was hard to be thus given up by
my mother; and that she should make a will so uncontroulable as my
brother's, her will.--My mother, my dear, though I must not say so, was
not obliged to marry against her liking. My mother loved my father.
My silence availed me still less.
I see, my dear, said she, that you are convinced. Now, my good
child--now, my Clary, do I love you! It shall not be known, that you
have argued with me at all. All shall be imputed to that modesty which
has ever so much distinguished you. You shall have the full merit of
your resignation.