The World's Greatest Books - Volume 7 Part 19

"Mr. Lovelace, you may believe, ill brooked this, but contented himself by complaining to me, adding that, but for my sake, my brother's treatment of him was not to be borne.

"After several excesses, which Mr. Lovelace returned with a haughtiness too much like that of the aggressor, my brother took upon himself to fill up the doorway once when he came, as if to oppose his entrance; and, upon his asking for me, demanded what his business was with his sister.

"The other, with a challenging air, told him he would answer a gentleman _any_ question. Just then the good Dr. Lewin, the clergyman, came to the door, and, hearing the words, interposed between, both gentlemen having their hands upon their swords, and, telling Mr. Lovelace where I was, the latter burst by my brother to come to me, leaving him chafing, he said, like a hunted boar at bay.

"After this, my father was pleased to hint that Mr. Lovelace's visits should be discontinued, and I, by his command, spoke a great deal plainer; but no absolute prohibition having been given, things went on for a while as before, till my brother again took occasion to insult Mr.

Lovelace, when an unhappy recontre followed, in which my brother was wounded and disarmed, and on being brought home and giving us ground to suppose he was worse hurt than he was, and a fever ensuing, everyone flamed out, and all was laid at my door.

"Mr. Lovelace sent twice a day to inquire after my brother, and on the fourth day came in person, and received great incivilities from my two uncles, who happened to be there.

"I fainted away with terror, seeing everyone so violent; hearing his voice swearing he could not depart without seeing me, my mamma struggling with my papa, and my sister insulting me. When he was told how ill I was, he departed, vowing vengeance.

"He was ever a favourite with our domestics; and on this occasion they privately reported his behaviour in such favourable terms that those reports and my apprehensions of the consequences, induced me to 'read a letter' he sent me that night imploring me 'to answer' it some days after.

"To this unhappy necessity is owing our correspondence; meantime I am extremely concerned to find that I am become the public talk."

"_February_ 20. Alas, my dear, I have sad prospects! My brother and sister have found another lover for me; he is encouraged by everybody.

Who do you think it is? No other than that Solmes. They are all determined too, my mother with the rest.

"Yesterday, Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony presented him as a gentleman he had a particular friends.h.i.+p for. My father said, 'Mr. Solmes is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe.' My mother looked at him, and at me; and I at her, with eyes appealing for pity, while my brother and sister sir'd him at every word."

"_February_ 24. They drive on at a furious rate. The man lives here.

Such terms, such settlements. That's the cry. I have already stood the shock of three of this man's visits.

"What my brother and sister have said of me, I cannot tell. I am in heavy disgrace with my papa.

"_March_ 9. I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace, although I have not answered his former one. He knows all that pa.s.ses here, and is excessively uneasy upon what he hears, and solicits me to engage my honour to him never to have Mr. Solmes. I think I can safely promise him that.

"I am now confined to my room; my maid has been taken away from me. In answer to my sincere declaration, that I would gladly compound to live single, my father said angrily that my proposal was an artifice. Nothing but marrying Solmes should do."

"_April_ 5. I must keep nothing by me now; and when I write lock myself in that I may not be surprised now they think I have no pen and ink.

"I found another letter from this diligent man, and he a.s.sures me they are more and more determined to subdue me.

"He sends me the compliments of his family, and acquaints me with their earnest desire to see me amongst them. Vehemently does he press for my quitting this house while it is in my power to get away, and again craves leave to order his uncle's chariot-and-six to attend my commands at the stile leading to the coppice adjoining to the paddock.

"Settlements he again offers; Lord M. and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty to be guarantees of his honour.

"As to the disgrace a person of my character may be apprehensive of on quitting my father's house, he observes, too truly I doubt, that the treatment I meet with is in everybody's mouth, that all the disgrace I can receive they have given me. He says he will oppose my being sent away to my uncle's. He tells me my brother and sister and Mr. Solmes design to be there to meet me; that my father and mother will not come till the ceremony is over, and then to try to reconcile me to my odious husband.

"How, my dear, am I driven!"

_April_ 8. Whether you will blame me or not I cannot tell. I have deposited a letter to Mr. Lovelace confirming my resolution to leave this house on Monday next. I tell him I shall not bring any clothes than those I have on, lest I be suspected. That it will be best to go to a private lodging near Lady Betty Lawrance's that it may not appear to the world I have refuged myself with his family; that he shall instantly leave me nor come near me but by my leave, and that if I find myself in danger of being discovered and carried back by violence, I will throw myself into the protection of Lady Betty or Lady Sarah.

"Oh, my dear, what a sad thing is the necessity forced upon me for all this contrivance!"

_II.--In London_

Clarissa, after staying in lodgings at St. Albans, is persuaded by Lovelace that she will be safer from her family in London. After refusing a proposal for an immediate marriage, she therefore moves to London to lodge in a house recommended as thoroughly respectable by Lovelace, but which in reality is kept by a widow, Mrs. Sinclair, of no good repute, who is in the pay of Lovelace.

Clarissa to her friend, Miss Howe:

"_April 26._ At length, my dear, I am in London. My lodgings are neatly furnished, and though I like not the old gentlewoman, yet she seems obliging, and her kinswomen are genteel young people.

"I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace, and have great reason to be so. He began by letting me know that he had been to inquire the character of the widow. It was well enough, he said, but as she lived by letting lodgings and had other rooms in the houses which might be taken by the enemy, he knew no better way than to take them all, unless I would remove to others.

"It was easy to see he spoke the slighter of the widow to have a pretence to lodge here himself, and he frankly owned that if I chose to stay here he could not think of leaving me for six hours together. He had prepared the widow to expect that we should be here only a few days, till we could fix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition.

"'Fix _ourselves_ in a house, Mr. Lovelace?' I said. 'Pray in what light?'

"'My dearest life, hear me with patience. I am afraid I have been too forward, for my friends in town conclude me to be married.'

"'Surely, sir, you have not presumed----'

"'Hear me, dearest creature. You have received with favour my addresses, yet, by declining my fervent tender of myself you have given me apprehension of delay. Your brother's schemes are not given up. I have taken care to give Mrs. Sinclair a reason why two apartments are necessary for us in our retirement.'

"I raved at him. I would have flung from him, yet where could I go?

"Still, he insisted upon the propriety of appearing to be married. 'But since you dislike what I have said, let me implore you,' he added, 'to give a sanction to it by naming an early day--would to Heaven it were to-morrow!'

"What could I say? I verily believe, had he urged me in a proper way, I should have consented to meet him at a more sacred place than the parlour below.

"The widow now directs all her talk to me as 'Mrs. Lovelace,' and I, with a very ill-grace, bear it."

"_April 28._ Mr. Lovelace has returned already. 'My dearest life,' said he. 'I cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I should. Spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your friends till we are married. When they know we are married, your brother's plots will be at an end, and they must all be reconciled to you. Why, then, would you banish me from you? Why will you not give the man who has brought you into difficulties, and who so honourably wishes to extricate you from them, the happiness of doing so?'

"But, my dear although the opportunity was so inviting, he urged not for the _day_. Which is the _more extraordinary_, as he was so pressing for marriage before we came to town."

After some weeks, Clarissa succeeds in escaping from Mrs. Sinclair's house and takes lodgings at Hampstead. But Lovelace finds out her refuge, and sends two women, who pretend to be his relatives, Lady Betty and Lady Sarah, and Clarissa is beguiled back to Mrs. Sinclair's for an interview. Once inside the house, however, she is not allowed to leave it. Her health is now seriously injured, and her letters home have been answered by her father's curse.

Lovelace to his friend, John Belford:

"_June 18._ I went out early this morning, and returned just now, when I was informed that my beloved, in my absence, had taken it into her head to attempt to get away.

"She tripped down, with a parcel tied up in a handkerchief, her hood on, and was actually in the entry, when Mrs. Sinclair saw her.

"'Pray, madam,' whipping between her and the street-door, 'be pleased to let me know whither you are going?'

"'Who has a right to control me?' was the word.

"'I have, madam, by order of your spouse, and I desire you will be pleased to walk up again.'

"She would have spoken, but could not; and, bursting into tears, turned back, and went to her chamber.

"That she cannot fly me, that she must see me, are circ.u.mstances greatly in my favour. What can she do but rave and exclaim?

"To-night, as I was sitting with my pen in my chamber, she entered the dining-room with such dignity in her manner as struck with me great awe, and prepared me for the poor figure I made in the subsequent conversation. But I will do her justice. She accosted me with an air I never saw equalled.