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

to apply as meant the Captain’s hint to the occasion of her uncle’s declining state of health.

Capt. We might indeed, I told him, set out in that road, but turn short to town in my chariot; and he might see the ceremony performed with his own eyes, and be the desired father, as well as the beloved uncle.

She turned from us, and wiped her eyes.

Capt. And, really, there seem now to be but two objections to this, as Mr. Harlowe discouraged not the proposal⁠—The one, the unhappy misunderstanding between you; which I would not by any means he should know; since then he might be apt to give weight to Mr. James Harlowe’s unjust surmises.⁠—The other, that it would necessarily occasion some delay to the ceremony; which certainly may be performed in a day or two⁠—if⁠—

And then he reverently bowed to my goddess.⁠—Charming fellow!⁠—But often did I curse my stars, for making me so much obliged to his adroitness.

She was going to speak; but, not liking the turn of her countenance (although, as I thought, its severity and indignation seemed a little abated) I said, and had like to have blown myself up by it⁠—one expedient I have just thought of⁠—

Cl. None of your expedients, Mr. Lovelace!⁠—I abhor your expedients, your inventions⁠—I have had too many of them.

Lovel. See, Capt. Tomlinson!⁠—See, Sir!⁠—O how we expose ourselves to you!⁠—Little did you think, I dare say, that we have lived in such a continued misunderstanding together!⁠—But you will make the best of it all. We may yet be happy. Oh! that I could have been assured that this dear creature loved me with the hundredth part of the love I have for her!⁠—Our diffidences have been mutual. I presume to say that she has too much punctilio: I am afraid that I have too little. Hence our difficulties. But I have a heart, Captain Tomlinson, a heart, that bids me hope for her love, because it is resolved to deserve it as much as man can deserve it.

Capt. I am indeed surprised at what I have seen and heard. I defend not Mr. Lovelace, Madam, in the offence he has given you⁠—as a father of daughters myself, I cannot defend him; though his fault seems to be lighter than I had apprehended⁠—but in my conscience, Madam, I think you carry your resentment too high.

Cl. Too high, Sir!⁠—Too high to the man that might have been happy if he would! Too high to the man that has held my soul in suspense an hundred times, since (by artifice and deceit) he obtained a power over me!⁠—Say, Lovelace, thyself say, art thou not the very Lovelace, who by insulting me, hast wronged thine own hopes?⁠—The wretch that appeared in vile disguises, personating an old, lame creature, seeking for lodgings for thy sick wife?⁠—Telling the gentlewomen here stories all of thine own invention; and asserting to them an husband’s right over me, which thou hast not!⁠—And is it (turning to the Captain) to be expected, that I should give credit to the protestations of such a man?

Lovel. Treat me, my dearest creature, as you please, I will bear it: and yet your scorn and your violence have fixed daggers in my heart⁠—But was it possible, without those disguises, to come at your speech?⁠—And could I lose you, if study, if invention, would put it in my power to arrest your anger, and give me hope to engage you to confirm to me the promised pardon? The address I made to you before the women, as if the marriage-ceremony had passed, was in consequence of what your uncle had advised, and what you had acquiesced with; and the rather made, as your brother, and Singleton, and Solmes, were resolved to find out whether what was reported of your marriage were true or not, that they might take their measures accordingly; and in hopes to prevent that mischief, which I have been but too studious to prevent, since this tameness has but invited insolence from your brother and his confederates.

Cl. O thou strange wretch, how thou talkest!⁠—But, Captain Tomlinson, give me leave to say, that, were I inclined to enter farther upon this subject, I would appeal to Miss Rawlins’s judgment (whom else have I to appeal to?) She seems to be a person of prudence and honour; but not to any man’s judgment, whether I carry my resentment beyond fit bounds, when I resolve⁠—

Capt. Forgive, Madam, the interruption⁠—but I think there can be no reason for this. You ought, as you said, to be the sole judge of indignities offered you. The gentlewomen here are strangers to you. You will perhaps stay but a little while among them. If you lay the state of your case before any of them, and your brother come to inquire of them, your uncle’s intended mediation will be discovered, and rendered abortive⁠—I shall appear in a light that I never appeared in, in my life⁠—for these women may not think themselves obliged to keep the secret.

Charming fellow!

Cl. O what difficulties has one fatal step involved me in⁠—but there is no necessity for such an appeal to anybody. I am resolved on my measures.

Capt. Absolutely resolved, Madam?

Cl. I am.

Capt. What shall I say to your uncle Harlowe, Madam?⁠—Poor gentleman! how will he be surprised!⁠—You see, Mr. Lovelace⁠—you see, Sir⁠—turning to me with a flourishing hand⁠—but you may thank yourself⁠—and admirably stalked he from us.

True, by my soul, thought I. I traversed the room, and bit my unpersuasive lips, now upper, now under, for vexation.

He made a profound reverence to her⁠—and went to the window, where lay his hat and whip; and, taking them up, opened the door. Child, said he, to some body he saw, pray order my servant to bring my horse to the door⁠—

Lovel. You won’t go, Sir⁠—I hope you won’t!⁠—I am the unhappiest man in the world!⁠—You won’t go⁠—yet, alas!⁠—But you won’t go, Sir!⁠—there may be yet hopes