MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, APRIL 26.
At length, my dearest Miss Howe, I am in London, and in my new lodgings.
They are neatly furnished, and the situation, for the town, is pleasant.
But I think you must not ask me how I like the old gentlewoman. Yet she
seems courteous and obliging.--Her kinswomen just appeared to welcome me
at my alighting. They seemed to be genteel young women. But more of
their aunt and them, as I shall see more.
Miss Sorlings has an uncle at Barnet, whom she found so very ill, that
her uneasiness, on that account, (having large expectations from him,)
made me comply with her desire to stay with him. Yet I wished, as her
uncle did not expect her, that she would see me settled in London; and
Mr. Lovelace was still more earnest that she would, offering to send her
back again in a day or two, and urging that her uncle's malady threatened
not a sudden change. But leaving the matter to her choice, after she
knew what would have been mine, she made me not the expected compliment.
Mr. Lovelace, however, made her a handsome present at parting.
His genteel spirit, on all occasions, makes me often wish him more
consistent.
As soon as he arrived, I took possession of my apartment. I shall make
good use of the light closet in it, if I stay here any time.
One of his attendants returns in the morning to The Lawn; and I made
writing to you by him an excuse for my retiring.
And now give me leave to chide you, my dearest friend, for your rash,
and I hope revocable resolution not to make Mr. Hickman the happiest man
in the world, while my happiness is in suspense. Suppose I were to be
unhappy, what, my dear, would this resolution of yours avail me?
Marriage is the highest state of friendship: if happy, it lessens our
cares, by dividing them, at the same time that it doubles our pleasures
by a mutual participation. Why, my dear, if you love me, will you not
rather give another friend to one who has not two she is sure of? Had
you married on your mother's last birth-day, as she would have had you,
I should not, I dare say, have wanted a refuge; that would have saved me
many mortifications, and much disgrace.
***
Here I was broke in upon by Mr. Lovelace; introducing the widow leading
in a kinswoman of her's to attend me, if I approved of her, till my
Hannah should come, or till I had provided myself with some other
servant. The widow gave her many good qualities; but said, that she had
one great defect; which was, that she could not write, nor read writing;
that part of her education having been neglected when she was young; but
for discretion, fidelity, obligingness, she was not to be out-done by any
body. So commented her likewise for her skill at the needle.
As for her defect, I can easily forgive that. She is very likely and
genteel--too genteel indeed, I think, for a servant. But what I like
least of all in her, she has a strange sly eye. I never saw such an eye;
half-confident, I think. But indeed Mrs. Sinclair herself, (for that is
the widow's name,) has an odd winking eye; and her respectfulness seems
too much studied, methinks, for the London ease and freedom. But people
can't help their looks, you know; and after all she is extremely civil
and obliging,--and as for the young woman, (Dorcas is her name,) she will
not be long with me.
I accepted her: How could I do otherwise, (if I had had a mind to make
objections, which, in my present situation, I had not,) her aunt present,
and the young woman also present; and Mr. Lovelace officious in his
introducing them, to oblige me? But, upon their leaving me, I told him,
(who seemed inclinable to begin a conversation with me,) that I desired
that this apartment might be considered as my retirement: that when I saw
him it might be in the dining-room, (which is up a few stairs; for this
back-house, being once two, the rooms do not all of them very
conveniently communicate with each other,) and that I might be as little
broken in upon as possible, when I am here. He withdrew very
respectfully to the door, but there stopt; and asked for my company then
in the dining-room. If he were about setting out for other lodgings, I
would go with him now, I told him; but, if he did not just then go, I
would first finish my letter to Miss Howe.
I see he has no mind to leave me if he can help it. My brother's scheme
may give him a pretence to try to engage me to dispense with his promise.
But if I now do I must acquit him of it entirely.
My approbation of his tender behaviour in the midst of my grief, has
given him a right, as he seems to think, of addressing me with all the
freedom of an approved lover. I see by this man, that when once a woman
embarks with this sex, there is no receding. One concession is but the
prelude to another with them. He has been ever since Sunday last
continually complaining of the distance I keep him at; and thinks himself
entitled now to call in question my value for him; strengthening his
doubts by my former declared readiness to give him up to a reconciliation
with my friends; and yet has himself fallen off from that obsequious
tenderness, if I may couple the words, which drew from me the concessions
he builds upon.
While we were talking at the door, my new servant came up with an
invitation to us both to tea. I said he might accept of it, if he
pleased: but I must pursue my writing; and not choosing either tea or
supper, I desired him to make my excuses below, as to both; and inform
them of my choice to be retired as much as possible; yet to promise for
me my attendance on the widow and her nieces at breakfast in the morning.
He objected particularly in the eye of strangers as to avoiding supper.
You know, said I, and you can tell them, that I seldom eat suppers. My
spirits are low. You must never urge me against a declared choice.
Pray, Mr. Lovelace, inform them of all my particularities. If they are
obliging, they will allow for them--I come not hither to make new
acquaintance.
I have turned over the books I found in my closet; and am not a little
pleased with them; and think the better of the people of the house for
their sakes.
Stanhope's Gospels; Sharp's, Tillotson's, and South's Sermons; Nelson's
Feasts and Fasts; a Sacramental Piece of the Bishop of Man, and another
of Dr. Gauden, Bishop of Exeter; and Inett's Devotions, are among the
devout books:--and among those of a lighter turn, the following not ill-
chosen ones: A Telemachus, in French; another in English; Steel's,
Rowe's, and Shakespeare's Plays; that genteel Comedy of Mr. Cibber, The
Careless Husband, and others of the same author; Dryden's Miscellanies;
the Tatlers, Spectators, and Guardians; Pope's, and Swift's, and
Addison's Works.
In the blank leaves of the Nelson and Bishop Gauden, is Mrs. Sinclair's
name; and in those of most of the others, either Sarah Martin, or Mary
Horton, the names of the two nieces.
***
I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace: and have great reason
to be so, as you will allow, when you have read the conversation I am
going to give you an account of; for he would not let me rest till I gave
him my company in the dining-room.
He began with letting me know, that he had been out to inquire after the
character of the widow, which was the more necessary, he said, as he
supposed that I would expect his frequent absence.
I did, I said; and that he would not think of taking up his lodging in
the same house with me. But what, said I, is the result of your inquiry?
Why, indeed, the widow's character was, in the main, what he liked well
enough. But as it was Miss Howe's opinion, as I had told him, that my
brother had not given over his scheme; as the widow lived by letting
lodgings, and had others to let in the same part of the house, which
might be taken by an enemy; he knew no better way than for him to take
them all, as it could not be for a long time, unless I would think of
removing to others.
So far was well enough. But as it was easy for me to see, that he spoke
the slighter of the widow, in order to have a pretence to lodge here
himself, I asked him his intention in that respect. And he frankly
owned, that if I chose to stay here, he could not, as matters stood,
think of leaving me for six hours together; and he had prepared the widow
to expect, that we should be here but for a few days; only till we could
fix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition; and this, that I
might be under the less embarrassment, if I pleased to remove.
Fix our-selves in a house, and we, and our, Mr. Lovelace--Pray, in what
light--
He interrupted me--Why, my dearest life, if you will hear me with
patience--yet, I am half afraid that I have been too forward, as I have
not consulted you upon it--but as my friends in town, according to what
Mr. Doleman has written, in the letter you have seen, conclude us to be
married--