Not a word, Sir, against my father!--I will not bear that--

'Whatever had been your usage:--and you have a credulity, Madam, against

all probability, if you believe you should have avoided being

Solmes's wife: That I have put you upon sacrificing your duty and

conscience--yet, dearest creature! see you not the contradiction that

your warmth of temper has surprised you into, when the reluctance

you shewed to the last to leave your persecutors, has cleared your

conscience from the least reproach of this sort?'--

O Sir! Sir! are you so critical then? Are you so light in your anger as

to dwell upon words?--

Indeed, my dear, I have since thought that his anger was not owing to

that sudden impetus, which cannot be easily bridled; but rather was a

sort of manageable anger let loose to intimidate me.

'Forgive me, Madam--I have just done--Have I not, in your opinion,

hazarded my life to redeem you from oppression? Yet is not my reward,

after all, precarious?--For, Madam, have you not conditioned with me

(and, hard as the condition is, most sacredly will I observe it) that

all my hope must be remote? That you are determined to have it in your

power to favour or reject me totally, as you please?'

See, my dear! in every respect my condition changed for the worse! Is it

in my power to take your advice, if I should think it ever so right to

take it?*

* Clarissa had been censured as behaving to Mr. Lovelace, in their first

conversation at St. Alban's, and afterwards, with too much reserve, and

even with haughtiness. Surely those, who have thought her to blame on

this account, have not paid a due attention to the story. How early, as

above, and in what immediately follows, does he remind her of the terms

of distance which she had prescribed to him, before she was in his

power, in hopes to leave the door open for a reconciliation with

her friends, which her heart was set upon? And how artfully does he

(unrequired) promise to observe the conditions in which she in her

present circumstances and situation (in pursuance of Miss Howe's advice)

would gladly have dispensed with?--To say nothing of the resentment she

was under a necessity to shew, at the manner of his getting her away, in

order to justify to him the sincerity of her refusal to go off with him.

See, in her subsequent Letter to Miss Howe, No. IX., her own sense upon

the subject.

'And have you not furthermore declared,' proceeded he 'that you will

engage to renounce me for ever, if your friends insist upon that cruel

renunciation, as the terms of being reconciled to you?

'But nevertheless, Madam, all the merit of having saved you from an

odious compulsion, shall be mine. I glory in it, though I were to lose

you for ever. As I see I am but too likely to do, from your present

displeasure; and especially, if your friends insist upon the terms you

are ready to comply with.

'That you are your own mistress, through my means, is, I repeat, my

boast. As such, I humbly implore your favour, and that only upon the

conditions I have yielded to hope for it. As I do now, thus humbly,

[the proud wretch falling on one knee,] your forgiveness, for so long

detaining your ear, and for all the plain dealing that my undesigning

heart would not be denied to utter by my lips.'

O Sir, pray rise! Let the obliged kneel, if one of us must kneel! But,

nevertheless, proceed not in this strain, I beseech you. You have had

a great deal of trouble about me: but had you let me know in time, that

you expected to be rewarded for it at the price of my duty, I should

have spared you much of it.

Far be it from me, Sir, to depreciate merit so extraordinary. But let me

say, that had it not been for the forbidden correspondence I was teased

by you into; and which I had not continued (every letter, for many

letters, intended to be the last) but because I thought you a sufferer

from my friends; I had not been either confined or ill treated: nor

would my brother's low-meant violence have had a foundation to work

upon.

I am far from thinking my case would have been so very desperate as you

imagine had I staid. My father loved me in his heart: he would not see

me before; and I wanted only to see him, and to be heard; and a delay

of his sentence was the least thing I expected from the trial I was to

stand.

You are boasting of your merits, Sir: let merit be your boast; nothing

else can attract me. If personal considerations had principal weight

with me, either in Solmes's disfavour, or in your favour, I shall

despise myself: if you value yourself upon them, in preference to the

person of the poor Solmes, I shall despise you!

You may glory in your fancied merits in getting me away: but the cause

of your glory, I tell you plainly, is my shame.

Make to yourself a title to my regard, which I can better approve of; or

else you will not have so much merit with me, as you have with yourself.

But here, Sir, like the first pair, (I, at least, driven out of my

paradise,) are we recriminating. No more shall you need to tell me of

your sufferings, and your merits! your all hours, and all weathers! For

I will bear them in memory as long as I live; and if it be impossible

for me to reward them, be ever ready to own the obligation. All that

I desire of you now is, to leave it to myself to seek for some private

abode: to take the chariot with you to London, or elsewhere: and, if

I have any further occasion for your assistance and protection, I will

signify it to you, and be still further obliged to you.

You are warm, my dearest life!--But indeed there is no occasion for it.

Had I any views unworthy of my faithful love for you, I should not have

been so honest in my declarations.

Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 3 · 第 29 / 189 题