I am infinitely concerned, my ever dear and ever kind friend, that I am
the sad occasion of the displeasure between your mother and you.--How
many persons have I made unhappy.
Had I not to console myself, that my error is not owing to wicked
precipitation, I should be the most miserable of all creatures. As it
is, I am enough punished in the loss of my character, more valuable
to me than my life; and in the cruel doubts and perplexities which,
conflicting with my hopes, and each getting the victory by turns, harrow
up my soul between them.
I think, however, that you should obey your mother, and decline a
correspondence with me; at least for the present. Take care how you
fall into my error; for that begun with carrying on a prohibited
correspondence; a correspondence which I thought it in my power to
discontinue at pleasure. My talent is scribbling; and I the readier fell
into this freedom, as I found delight in writing; having motives too,
which I thought laudable; and, at one time, the permission of all my
friends; to write to him.*
* See Vol. I. Letter III.
Yet, as to this correspondence, What hurt could arise from it, if your
mother could be prevailed upon to permit it to be continued?--So much
prudence and discretion as you have; and you, in writing to me, lying
under no temptation of following so bad an example as I have set--my
letters too occasionally filled with self-accusation.
I thank you, my dear, most cordially I thank you, for your kind offers.
You may be assured, that I will sooner be beholden to you, than to any
body living. To Mr. Lovelace the last. Do not therefore think, that
by declining your favours, I have an intention to lay myself under
obligations to him.
I am willing to hope (notwithstanding what you write) that my friends
will send me my little money, together with my clothes. They are too
considerate, some of them at least, to permit that I should be put to
such low difficulties. Perhaps, they will not be in haste to oblige me.
But, if not, I cannot yet want. I believe you think, I must not dispute
with Mr. Lovelace the expenses of the road and lodgings, till I can get
a fixed abode. But I hope soon to put an end even to those small sort of
obligations.
Small hopes indeed of a reconciliation from your account of my uncle's
visit to your mother, in order to set her against an almost friendless
creature whom once he loved! But is it not my duty to try for it?
Ought I to widen my error by obstinacy and resentment, because of their
resentment; which must appear reasonable to them, as they suppose my
flight premeditated; and as they are made to believe, that I am capable
of triumphing in it, and over them, with the man they hate? When I have
done all in my power to restore myself to their favour, I shall have the
less to reproach myself with.
These considerations make me waver about following your advice, in
relation to marriage; and the rather, as he is so full of complaisance
with regard to my former conditions, which he calls my injunctions.
Nor can I now, that my friends, as you inform me, have so strenuously
declared against accepting of the mediation of the ladies of Mr.
Lovelace's family, put myself into their protection, unless I am
resolved to give up all hopes of a reconciliation with my own.
Yet if any happy introduction could be thought of to effect this
desirable purpose, how shall terms be proposed to my father, while
this man is with me, or near me? On the other hand, should they in his
absence get me back by force, (and this, you are of opinion, they would
attempt to do, but in fear of him,) how will their severest acts of
compulsion be justified by my flight from them!--Mean while, to what
censures, as you remind me, do I expose myself, while he and I are
together and unmarried!--Yet [can I with patience ask the question?] Is
it in my power?--O my dear Miss Howe! And am I so reduced, as that, to
save the poor remains of my reputation in the world's eye, I must watch
the gracious motion from this man's lips?
Were my cousin Morden in England, all might still perhaps be determined
happily.
If no other mediation than this can be procured to set on foot the
wished-for reconciliation, and if my situation with Mr. Lovelace alter
not in the interim, I must endeavour to keep myself in a state of
independence till he arrive, that I may be at liberty to govern myself
by his advice and direction.
I will acquaint you, as you desire, with all that passes between
Mr. Lovelace and me. Hitherto I have not discovered any thing in his
behaviour that is very exceptionable. Yet I cannot say, that I think
the respect he shews me, an easy, unrestrained, and natural respect,
although I can hardly tell where the fault is.
But he has doubtless an arrogant and encroaching spirit. Nor is he
so polite as his education, and other advantages, might have made one
expect him to be. He seems, in short, to be one, who has always had too
much of his own will to study to accommodate himself to that of others.
As to the placing of some confidence in him, I shall be as ready to take
your advice in this particular, as in all others, and as he will be
to deserve it. But tricked away as I was by him, not only against my
judgment, but my inclination, can he, or any body, expect, that I should
immediately treat him with complaisance, as if I acknowledged obligation
to him for carrying me away?--If I did, must he not either think me a
vile dissembler before he gained that point, or afterwards?
Indeed, indeed, my dear, I could tear my hair, on reconsidering what you
write (as to the probability that the dreaded Wednesday was more dreaded
than it needed to be) to think, that I should be thus tricked by this
man; and that, in all likelihood, through his vile agent Joseph Leman.
So premeditated and elaborate a wickedness as it must be!--Must I
not, with such a man, be wanting to myself, if I were not jealous and
vigilant?--Yet what a life to live for a spirit so open, and naturally
so unsuspicious, as mine?
I am obliged to Mr. Hickman for the assistance he is so kindly ready to
give to our correspondence. He is so little likely to make to himself an
additional merit with the daughter upon it, that I shall be very sorry,
if he risk any thing with the mother by it.
I am now in a state of obligation: so must rest satisfied with whatever
I cannot help. Whom have I the power, once so precious to me, of
obliging?--What I mean, my dear, is, that I ought, perhaps, to
expect, that my influences over you are weakened by my indiscretion.
Nevertheless, I will not, if I can help it, desert myself, nor give up
the privilege you used to allow me, of telling you what I think of such
parts of your conduct as I may not approve.
You must permit me therefore, severe as your mother is against an
undesigning offender, to say that I think your liveliness to her
inexcusable--to pass over, for this time, what nevertheless concerns me
not a little, the free treatment you almost indiscriminately give to my
relations.
If you will not, for your duty's sake, forbear your tauntings and
impatience, let me beseech you, that you will for mine.--Since
otherwise, your mother may apprehend that my example, like a leaven, is
working itself into the mind of her beloved daughter. And may not such
an apprehension give her an irreconcilable displeasure against me?
I enclose the copy of my letter to my sister, which you are desirous to
see. You will observe, that although I have not demanded my estate in
form, and of my trustees, yet that I have hinted at leave to retire to
it. How joyfully would I keep my word, if they would accept of the offer
I renew!--It was not proper, I believe you will think, on many accounts,
to own that I was carried off against my inclination. I am, my dearest
friend,
Your ever obliged and affectionate, CL. HARLOWE.