MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
MONDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 15.
Now indeed it is evident, my best, my only friend, that I have but one
choice to make. And now I do find that I have carried my resentment
against this man too far; since now I am to appear as if under an
obligation to his patience with me for a conduct, which perhaps he will
think (if not humoursome and childish) plainly demonstrative of my little
esteem of him; of but a secondary esteem at least, where before, his
pride, rather than his merit, had made him expect a first. O my dear! to
be cast upon a man that is not a generous man; that is indeed a cruel
man! a man that is capable of creating a distress to a young creature,
who, by her evil destiny is thrown into his power; and then of enjoying
it, as I may say! [I verily think I may say so, of this savage!]--What
a fate is mine!
You give me, my dear, good advice, as to the peremptory manner in which I
ought to treat him: But do you consider to whom it is that you give it?--
And then should I take it, and should he be capable of delay, I
unprotected, desolate, nobody to fly to, in what a wretched light must I
stand in his eyes; and, what is still as bad, in my own! O my dear, see
you not, as I do, that the occasion for this my indelicate, my shocking
situation should never have been given by me, of all creatures; since I
am unequal, utterly unequal, to the circumstances to which my
inconsideration has reduced me?--What! I to challenge a man for a
husband!--I to exert myself to quicken the delayer in his resolutions!
and, having as you think lost an opportunity, to begin to try to recall
it, as from myself, and for myself! to threaten him, as I may say, into
the marriage state!--O my dear! if this be right to be done, how
difficult is it, where modesty and self (or where pride, if you please)
is concerned, to do that right? or, to express myself in your words, to
be father, mother, uncle, to myself!--especially where one thinks a
triumph over one is intended.
You say, you have tried Mrs. Norton's weight with my mother--bad as the
returns are which my application by Mr. Hickman has met with, you tell
me, 'that you have not acquainted me with all the bad, nor now, perhaps,
ever will.' But why so, my dear? What is the bad, what can be the bad,
which now you will never tell me of?--What worse, than renounce me! and
for ever! 'My uncle, you say, believes me ruined: he declares that he
can believe every thing bad of a creature who could run away with a man:
and they have all made a resolution not to stir an inch in my favour; no,
not to save my life!'--Have you worse than this, my dear, behind?--Surely
my father has not renewed his dreadful malediction!--Surely, if so, my
mother has not joined in it! Have my uncles given their sanction, and
made it a family act? And themselves thereby more really faulty, than
ever THEY suppose me to be, though I the cause of that greater fault in
them?--What, my dear, is the worst, that you will leave for ever
unrevealed?
O Lovelace! why comest thou not just now, while these black prospects are
before me? For now, couldst thou look into my heart, wouldst thou see a
distress worthy of thy barbarous triumph!
***
I was forced to quit my pen. And you say you have tried Mrs. Norton's
weight with my mother?
What is done cannot be remedied: but I wish you had not taken a step of
this importance to me without first consulting me. Forgive me, my dear,
but I must tell you that that high-soul'd and noble friendship which you
have ever avowed with so obliging and so uncommon a warmth, although it
has been always the subject of my grateful admiration, has been often the
ground of my apprehension, because of its unbridled fervour.
Well, but now to look forward, you are of opinion that I must be his: and
that I cannot leave him with reputation to myself, whether with or
without his consent. I must, if so, make the best of the bad matter.
He went out in the morning; intending not to return to dinner, unless (as
he sent me word) I would admit him to dine with me.
I excused myself. The man, whose anger is now to be of such high
importance to me, was, it seems, displeased.
As he (as well as I) expected that I should receive a letter from you
this day by Collins, I suppose he will not be long before he returns; and
then, possibly, he is to be mighty stately, mighty mannish, mighty coy,
if you please! And then must I be very humble, very submissive, and try
to insinuate myself into his good graces: with downcast eye, if not by
speech, beg his forgiveness for the distance I have so perversely kept
him at?--Yes, I warrant!--But I shall see how this behaviour will sit
upon me!--You have always rallied me upon my meekness, I think: well
then, I will try if I can be still meeker, shall I!--O my dear!--
But let me sit with my hands before me, all patience, all resignation;
for I think I hear him coming up. Or shall I roundly accost him, in the
words, in the form, which you, my dear, prescribed?
He is come in. He has sent to me, all impatience, as Dorcas says, by his
aspect.--But I cannot, cannot see him!