Clarissa Harlowe, Samuel Richardson [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

and so turn the succeeding day’s solemn convention into a day of festivity. I am to have the license sent me up, however, and once more the settlements, that I may see how much in earnest they are.

She further hinted, that my father himself would bring up the settlements for me to sign.

O my dear! what a trial will this be!⁠—How shall I be able to refuse my father the writing of my name?⁠—To my father, from whose presence I have been so long banished!⁠—He commanding and entreating, perhaps, in a breath!⁠—How shall I be able to refuse this to my father?

They are sure, she says, something is working on Mr. Lovelace’s part, and perhaps on mine: and my father would sooner follow me to the grave, than see me his wife.

I said, I was not well: that the very apprehensions of these trials were already insupportable to me; and would increase upon me, as the time approached; and I was afraid I should be extremely ill.

They had prepared themselves for such an artifice as that, was my aunt’s unkind word; and she could assure me, it would stand me in no stead.

Artifice! repeated I: and this from my aunt Hervey?

Why, my dear, said she, do you think people are fools?⁠—Can they not see how dismally you endeavour to sigh yourself down within-doors?⁠—How you hang down your sweet face (those were the words she was pleased to use) upon your bosom?⁠—How you totter, as it were, and hold by this chair, and by that door post, when you know that anybody sees you? (This, my dear Miss Howe, is an aspersion to fasten hypocrisy and contempt upon me: my brother’s or sister’s aspersion!⁠—I am not capable of arts so low). But the moment you are down with your poultry, or advancing upon your garden-walk, and, as you imagine, out of everybody’s sight, it is seem how nimbly you trip along; and what an alertness governs all your motions.

I should hate myself, said I, were I capable of such poor artifices as these. I must be a fool to use them, as well as a mean creature; for have I not had experience enough, that my friends are incapable of being moved in much more affecting instances?⁠—But you’ll see how I shall be by Tuesday.

My dear, you will not offer any violence to your health?⁠—I hope, God has given you more grace than to do that.

I hope he has, Madam. But there is violence enough offered, and threatened, to affect my health; and so it will be found, without my needing to have recourse to any other, or to artifice either.

I’ll only tell you one thing, my dear: and that is, ill or well, the ceremony will probably be performed before Wednesday night:⁠—but this, also, I will tell you, although beyond my present commission, That Mr. Solmes will be under an engagement (if you should require it of him as a favour) after the ceremony is passed, and Lovelace’s hopes thereby utterly extinguished, to leave you at your father’s, and return to his own house every evening, until you are brought to a full sense of your duty, and consent to acknowledge your change of name.

There was no opening of my lips to such a speech as this. I was dumb.

And these, my dear Miss Howe, are they who, some of them at least, have called me a romantic girl!⁠—This is my chimerical brother, and wise sister; both joining their heads together, I dare say. And yet, my aunt told me, that the last part was what took in my mother: who had, till that last expedient was found out, insisted, that her child should not be married, if, through grief or opposition, she should be ill, or fall into fits.

This intended violence my aunt often excused, by the certain information they pretended to have, of some plots or machinations, that were ready to break out, from Mr. Lovelace:44 the effects of which were thus cunningly to be frustrated.

Friday, Nine o’clock.

And now, my dear, what shall I conclude upon? You see how determined⁠—But how can I expect your advice will come time enough to stand me in any stead? For here I have been down, and already have another letter from Mr. Lovelace (the man lives upon the spot, I think): and I must write to him, either that I will or will not stand to my first resolution of escaping hence on Monday next. If I let him know that I will not, (appearances so strong against him and for Solmes, even stronger than when I made the appointment), will it not be justly deemed my own fault, if I am compelled to marry their odious man? And if any mischief ensue from Mr. Lovelace’s rage and disappointment, will it not lie at my door?⁠—Yet, he offers so fair!⁠—Yet, on the other hand, to incur the censure of the world, as a giddy creature⁠—but that, as he hints, I have already incurred⁠—What can I do?⁠—Oh! that my cousin Morden⁠—But what signifies wishing?

I will here give you the substance of Mr. Lovelace’s letter. The letter itself I will send, when I have answered it; but that I will defer doing as long as I can, in hopes of finding reason to retract an appointment on which so much depends. And yet it is necessary you should have all before you as I go along, that you may be the better able to advise me in this dreadful crisis.

“He begs my pardon for writing with so much assurance; attributing it to his unbounded transport; and entirely acquiesces to me in my will. He is full of alternatives and proposals. He offers to attend me directly to Lady Betty’s; or, if I had rather, to my own estate; and that my Lord M. shall protect me there.” (He knows not, my dear, my reasons for rejecting this inconsiderate advice). “In either case, as soon as he sees me safe, he will go up to