You wonder, my dear, that Mr. Lovelace took not notice to you over-night
of the letters of Lady Betty and his cousin. I don't like his keeping
such a material and relative circumstance, as I may call it, one moment
from you. By his communicating the contents of them to you next day,
when you was angry with him, it looks as if he withheld them for
occasional pacifiers; and if so, must he not have had a forethought that
he might give you cause for anger? Of all the circumstances that have
happened since you have been with him, I think I like this the least:
this alone, my dear, small as it might look to an indifferent eye, in
mine warrants all your caution. Yet I think that Mrs. Greme's letter to
her sister Sorlings: his repeated motions for Hannah's attendance; and
for that of one of the widow Sorlings's daughters; and, above all, for
that of Mrs. Norton; are agreeable counterbalances. Were it not for
these circumstances, I should have said a great deal more of the other.
Yet what a foolish fellow, to let you know over-night that he had such
letters!--I can't tell what to make of him.
I am pleased with the contents of these ladies' letters. And the more,
as I have caused the family to be again sounded, and find that they are
all as desirous as ever of your alliance.
They really are (every one of them) your very great admirers. And as for
Lord M., he is so much pleased with you, and with the confidence, as
he calls it, which you have reposed in his nephew, that he vows he will
disinherit him, if he reward it not as he ought. You must take care,
that you lose not both families.
I hear Mrs. Norton is enjoined, as she values the favour of the
other family, not to correspond either with you or with me--Poor
creatures!--But they are your--yet they are not your relations, neither,
I believe. Had you had any other nurse, I should have concluded you had
been changed. I suffer by their low malice--excuse me, therefore.
You really hold this man to his good behaviour with more spirit than
I thought you mistress of; especially when I judged of you by that
meekness which you always contended for, as the proper distinction of
the female character; and by the love, which (think as you please) you
certainly have for him. You may rather be proud of than angry at the
imputation; since you are the only woman I ever knew, read, or heard
of, whose love was so much governed by her prudence. But when once the
indifference of the husband takes place of the ardour of the lover, it
will be your turn: and, if I am not mistaken, this man, who is the only
self-admirer I ever knew who was not a coxcomb, will rather in his day
expect homage than pay it.
Your handsome husbands, my dear, make a wife's heart ache very often:
and though you are as fine a person of a woman, at the least, as he is
of a man, he will take too much delight in himself to think himself more
indebted to your favour, than you are to his distinction and preference
of you. But no man, take your finer mind with your very fine person, can
deserve you. So you must be contented, should your merit be underrated;
since that must be so, marry whom you will. Perhaps you will think I
indulge these sort of reflections against your Narcissus's of men, to
keep my mother's choice for me of Hickman in countenance with myself--I
don't know but there is something in it; at least, enough to have given
birth to the reflection.
I think there can be no objection to your going to London. There, as
in the centre, you will be in the way of hearing from every body, and
sending to any body. And then you will put all his sincerity to the
test, as to his promised absence, and such like.
But indeed, my dear, I think you have nothing for it but marriage. You
may try (that you may say you have tried) what your relations can be
brought to: but the moment they refuse your proposals, submit to the
yoke, and make the best of it. He will be a savage, indeed, if he makes
you speak out. Yet, it is my opinion, that you must bend a little; for
he cannot bear to be thought slightly of.
This was one of his speeches once; I believe designed for me--'A woman
who means one day to favour her lover with her hand, should show the
world, for her own sake, that she distinguishes him from the common
herd.'
Shall I give you another very fine sentence of his, and in the
true libertine style, as he spoke it, throwing out his challenging
hand?--'D--n him, if he would marry the first princess on earth, if
he but thought she balanced a minute in her choice of him, or of an
emperor.'
All the world, in short, expect you to have this man. They think, that
you left your father's house for this very purpose. The longer the
ceremony is delayed, the worse appearance it will have in the world's
eye. And it will not be the fault of some of your relations, if a slur
be not thrown upon your reputation, while you continue unmarried. Your
uncle Antony, in particular, speaks rough and vile things, grounded upon
the morals of his brother Orson. But hitherto your admirable character
has antidoted the poison; the detractor is despised, and every one's
indignation raised against him.
I have written through many interruptions: and you will see the first
sheet creased and rumpled, occasioned by putting it into my bosom on my
mother's sudden coming upon me. We have had one very pretty debate,
I will assure you; but it is not worth while to trouble you with the
particulars.--But upon my world--no matter though--
Your Hannah cannot attend you. The poor girl left her place about a
fortnight ago, on account of the rheumatic disorder, which has confined
her to her room ever since. She burst into tears, when Kitty carried
to her your desire of having her with you; and called herself doubly
unhappy, that she could not wait upon a mistress whom she so dearly
loved.
Had my mother answered my wishes, I should have been sorry Mr. Lovelace
had been the first proposer of my Kitty for your attendant, till Hannah
should come. To be altogether among strangers, and a stranger to attend
you every time you remove, is a very disagreeable thing. But your
considerateness and bounty will make you faithful ones wherever you go.
You must take your own way: but, if you suffer any inconvenience, either
as to clothes or money, that it is in my power to remedy, I will never
forgive you. My mother, (if that is your objection) need not know any
thing of the matter.
We have all our defects: we have often regretted the particular fault,
which, though in venerable characters, we must have been blind not to
see.
I remember what you once said to me; and the caution was good: Let us,
my Nancy, were your words; let us, who have not the same failings
as those we censure, guard against other and greater in ourselves.
Nevertheless, I must needs tell you, that my mother has vexed me a
little very lately, by some instances of her jealous narrowness. I will
mention one of them, though I did not intend it. She wanted to borrow
thirty guineas of me: only while she got a note changed. I said I could
lend her but eight or ten. Eight or ten would not do: she thought I was
much richer. I could have told her, I was much cunninger than to let her
know my stock; which, on a review, I find ninety-five guineas; and all
of them most heartily at your service.
I believe your uncle Tony put her upon this wise project; for she was
out of cash in an hour after he left her.
If he did, you will judge that they intend to distress you. If it will
provoke you to demand your own in a legal way, I wish they would; since
their putting you upon that course will justify the necessity of your
leaving them. And as it is not for your credit to own that you were
tricked away contrary to your intention, this would afford a reason for
your going off, that I should make very good use of. You'll see, that
I approve of Lovelace's advice upon this subject. I am not willing to
allow the weight of your answer to him on that head, which perhaps ought
to be allowed it.*
* See Letter XXXI. of this volume.
You must be the less surprised at the inventions of this man, because of
his uncommon talents. Whatever he had turned his head to, he would have
excelled in; or been (or done things) extraordinary. He is said to be
revengeful: a very bad quality! I believe, indeed, he is a devil
in every thing but his foot--this, therefore, is my repeated
advice--provoke him not too much against yourself: but unchain him, and
let him loose upon your sister' Betty, and your brother's Joseph Leman.
This is resenting low: but I know to whom I write, or else I would go a
good deal higher, [I'll assure you.]
Your next, I suppose, will be from London. Pray direct it, and your
future letters, till further notice, to Mr. Hickman, at his own house.
He is entirely devoted to you. Don't take so heavily my mother's
partiality and prejudices. I hope I am past a baby.
Heaven preserve you, and make you as happy as I think you deserve to be,
prays
Your ever affectionate ANNA HOWE.