She then gives Miss Howe an account of his coming by surprise upon her:
of his fluttering speech: of his bold address: of her struggle with
him for the letter, &c.
And now, my dear, proceeds she, I am more and more convinced, that I am
too much in his power to make it prudent to stay with him. And if my
friends will but give me hope, I will resolve to abandon him for ever.
O my dear! he is a fierce, a foolish, an insolent creature!--And, in
truth, I hardly expect that we can accommodate. How much unhappier am I
already with him than my mother ever was with my father after marriage!
since (and that without any reason, any pretence in the world for it) he
is for breaking my spirit before I am his, and while I am, or ought to be
[O my folly, that I am not!] in my own power.
Till I can know whether my friends will give me hope or not, I must do
what I never studied to do before in any case; that is, try to keep this
difference open: and yet it will make me look little in my own eyes;
because I shall mean by it more than I can own. But this is one of the
consequences of all engagements, where the minds are unpaired--dispaired,
in my case, I must say.
Let this evermore be my caution to individuals of my sex--Guard your eye:
'twill ever be in a combination against your judgment. If there are two
parts to be taken, it will be for ever, traitor as it is, taking the wrong
one.
If you ask me, my dear, how this caution befits me? let me tell you a
secret which I have but very lately found out upon self-examination,
although you seem to have made the discovery long ago: That had not my
foolish eye been too much attached, I had not taken the pains to attempt,
so officiously as I did, the prevention of mischief between him and some
of my family, which first induced the correspondence between us, and was
the occasion of bringing the apprehended mischief with double weight upon
himself. My vanity and conceit, as far as I know, might have part in the
inconsiderate measure: For does it not look as if I thought myself more
capable of obviating difficulties than anybody else of my family?
But you must not, my dear, suppose my heart to be still a confederate
with my eye. That deluded eye now clearly sees its fault, and the misled
heart despises it for it. Hence the application I am making to my uncle:
hence it is, that I can say (I think truly) that I would atone for my
fault at any rate, even by the sacrifice of a limb or two, if that would
do.
Adieu, my dearest friend!--May your heart never know the hundredth part
of the pain mine at present feels! prays
Your
CLARISSA HARLOWE.