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

and my beloved too, all mean the same thing: we only differ about the manner of coming at the proposed end. Letter 238 Mr. Lovelace

[In continuation]

It was now high time to acquaint my spouse, that Captain Tomlinson was come. And the rather, as the maid told us, that the lady had asked her if such a gentleman (describing him) was not in the parlour?

Mrs. Moore went up, and requested, in my name, that she would give us audience.

But she returned, reporting my beloved’s desire, that Captain Tomlinson would excuse her for the present. She was very ill. Her spirits were too weak to enter into conversation with him; and she must lie down.

I was vexed, and at first extremely disconcerted. The Captain was vexed too. And my concern, thou mayest believe, was the greater on his account.

She had been very much fatigued, I own. Her fits in the morning must have disordered her: and she had carried her resentment so high, that it was the less wonder she should find herself low, when her raised spirits had subsided. Very low, I may say; if sinkings are proportioned to risings; for she had been lifted up above the standard of a common mortal.

The Captain, however, sent up his own name, that if he could be admitted to drink one dish of tea with her, he should take it for a favour: and would go to town, and dispatch some necessary business, in order, if possible, to leave his morning free to attend her.

But she pleaded a violent headache; and Mrs. Moore confirmed the plea to be just.

I would have had the Captain lodge there that night, as well in compliment to him, as introductory to my intention of entering myself upon my new-taken apartment: but his hours were of too much importance to him to stay the evening.

It was indeed very inconvenient for him, he said, to return in the morning; but he is willing to do all in his power to heal this breach, and that as well for the sakes of me and my lady, as for that of his dear friend Mr. John Harlowe; who must not know how far this misunderstanding had gone. He would therefore only drink one dish of tea with the ladies and me.

And accordingly, after he had done so, and I had had a little private conversation with him, he hurried away.

His fellow had given him, in the interim, a high character to Mrs. Moore’s servants: and this reported by the widow Bevis (who being no proud woman, is hail fellow well met, as the saying is, with all her aunt’s servants) he was a fine gentleman, a discreet gentleman, a man of sense and breeding, with them all: and it was pity, that, with such great business upon his hands, he should be obliged to come again.

My life for yours, audibly whispered the widow Bevis, there is humour as well as headache in somebody’s declining to see this worthy gentleman.⁠—Ah, Lord! how happy might some people be if they would!

No perfect happiness in this world, said I, very gravely, and with a sigh; for the widow must know that I heard her. If we have not real unhappiness, we can make it, even from the overflowings of our good fortune.

Very true, and very true, the two widows. A charming observation! Mrs. Bevis. Miss Rawlins smiled her assent to it; and I thought she called me in her heart charming man! for she professes to be a great admirer of moral observations.

I had hardly taken leave of the Captain, and sat down again with the women, when Will came; and calling me out, “Sir, Sir,” said he, grinning with a familiarity in his looks as if what he had to say entitled him to take liberties; “I have got the fellow down!⁠—I have got old Grimes⁠—hah, hah, hah, hah!⁠—He is at the Lower Flask⁠—almost in the condition of David’s sow, and please your honour⁠—(the dog himself not much better) here is his letter⁠—from⁠—from Miss Howe⁠—ha, ha, ha, ha,” laughed the varlet; holding it fast, as if to make conditions with me, and to excite my praises, as well as my impatience.

I could have knocked him down; but he would have his say out⁠—“old Grimes knows not that I have the letter⁠—I must get back to him before he misses it⁠—I only make a pretence to go out for a few minutes⁠—but⁠—but”⁠—and then the dog laughed again⁠—“he must stay⁠—old Grimes must stay⁠—till I go back to pay the reckoning.”

D⁠⸺⁠n the prater; grinning rascal! The letter! The letter!

He gathered in his wide mothe, as he calls it, and gave me the letter; but with a strut, rather than a bow; and then sidled off like one of widow Sorlings’s dunghill cocks, exulting after a great feat performed. And all the time that I was holding up the billet to the light, to try to get at its contents without breaking the seal, (for, dispatched in a hurry, it had no cover), there stood he, laughing, shrugging, playing off his legs; now stroking his shining chin, now turning his hat upon his thumb! then leering in my face, flourishing with his head⁠—O Christ! now-and-then cried the rascal⁠—

What joy has this dog in mischief!⁠—More than I can have in the completion of my most favourite purposes!⁠—These fellows are ever happier than their masters.

I was once thinking to rumple up this billet till I had broken the seal. Young families (Miss Howe’s is not an ancient one) love ostentatious sealings: and it might have been supposed to have been squeezed in pieces in old Grimes’s breeches-pocket. But I was glad to be saved the guilt as well as suspicion of having a hand in so dirty a trick; for thus much of the contents (enough for my purpose) I was enabled to scratch out in character without it; the folds depriving me only of a few connecting words, which I have supplied between hooks.

My Miss Harlowe, thou knowest,