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

to sit in judgment upon the vile corrupted⁠—the least benefit that must accrue from the accidental discovery, if not a pretence for perpetration, (which, however, may be the case), an excuse for renewing my orders for her detention till my return from M. Hall, (the fault her own), and for keeping a stricter watch over her than before; with direction to send me any letters that may be written by her or to her.⁠—And when I return, the devil’s in it if I find not a way to make her choose lodgings for herself, (since these are so hateful to her), that shall answer all my purposes; and yet I no more appear to direct her choice, than I did before in these.

Thou wilt curse me when thou comest to this place. I know thou wilt. But thinkest thou that, after such a series of contrivance, I will lose this inimitable woman for want of a little more? A rake’s a rake, Jack!⁠—And what rake is withheld by principle from the perpetration of any evil his heart is set upon, and in which he thinks he can succeed?⁠—Besides, am I not in earnest as to marriage?⁠—Will not the generality of the world acquit me, if I do marry? And what is that injury which a church-rite will not at any time repair? Is not the catastrophe of every story that ends in wedlock accounted happy, be the difficulties in the progress of it ever so great.

But here, how am I engrossed by this lady, while poor Lord M. as Simon tells me, lies groaning in the most dreadful agonies!⁠—What must he suffer!⁠—Heaven relieve him!⁠—I have a too compassionate heart. And so would the dear creature have found, could I have thought that the worst of her sufferings is equal to the lightest of his. I mean as to fact; for as to that part of hers, which arises from extreme sensibility, I know nothing of that; and cannot therefore be answerable for it.

Letter 280 Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, Esq.

Just come from my charmer. She will not suffer me to say half the obliging, the tender things, which my honest heart is ready to overflow with. A confounded situation that, when a man finds himself in humour to be eloquent, and pathetic at the same time, yet cannot engage the mistress of his fate to lend an ear to his fine speeches.

I can account now how it comes about that lovers, when their mistresses are cruel, run into solitude, and disburden their minds to stocks and stones: For am I not forced to make my complaints to thee?

She claimed the performance of my promise, the moment she saw me, of permitting her (haughtily she spoke the word) to go to Hampstead as soon as I was gone to Berks.

Most cheerfully I renewed it.

She desired me to give orders in her hearing.

I sent for Dorcas and Will. They came.⁠—Do you both take notice, (but, perhaps, Sir, I may take you with me), that your lady is to be obeyed in all her commands. She purposes to return to Hampstead as soon as I am gone⁠—My dear, will you not have a servant to attend you?

I shall want no servant there.

Will you take Dorcas?

If I should want Dorcas, I can send for her.

Dorcas could not but say, She should be very proud⁠—

Well, well, that may be at my return, if your lady permit.⁠—Shall I, my dear, call up Mrs. Sinclair, and give her orders, to the same effect, in your hearing?

I desire not to see Mrs. Sinclair; nor any that belong to her.

As you please, Madam.

And then (the servants being withdrawn) I urged her again for the assurance, that she would meet me at the altar on Thursday next. But to no purpose.⁠—May she not thank herself for all that may follow?

One favour, however, I would not be denied, to be admitted to pass the evening with her.

All sweetness and obsequiousness will I be on this occasion. My whole soul shall be poured out to move her to forgive me. If she will not, and if the promissory note should fall in my way, my revenge will doubtless take total possession of me.

All the house in my interest, and everyone in it not only engaging to intimidate and assist, as occasion shall offer, but staking all their experience upon my success, if it be not my own fault, what must be the consequence?

This, Jack, however, shall be her last trial; and if she behave as nobly in and after this second attempt (all her senses about her) as she has done after the first, she will come out an angel upon full proof, in spite of man, woman, and devil: then shall there be an end of all her sufferings. I will then renounce that vanquished devil, and reform. And if any vile machination start up, presuming to mislead me, I will sooner stab it in my heart, as it rises, than give way to it.

A few hours will now decide all. But whatever be the event, I shall be too busy to write again, till I get to M. Hall.

Meantime, I am in strange agitations. I must suppress them, if possible, before I venture into her presence.⁠—My heart bounces my bosom from the table. I will lay down my pen, and wholly resign to its impulses.

Letter 281 Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, Esq.

Friday Night, or rather Sat. Morn. One o’clock

I thought I should not have had either time or inclination to write another line before I got to M. Hall. But, having the first, must find the last; since I can neither sleep, nor do anything but write, if I can do that. I am most confoundedly out of humour. The reason let it follow; if it will follow⁠—nor preparation for it from me.

I tried by gentleness and love to soften⁠—What?⁠—Marble. A heart incapable either of