Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady is a Webnovel created by Samuel Richardson.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
And will you be so good as to allow of this, Mr. Lovelace?
There, Belford! We were once the quarrelsome, but now we are the polite, lovers.
Indeed, my dear creature, I will, if you desire it, and if Captain Tomlinson will engage that Mr. Harlowe shall keep them absolutely a secret; that I may not be subjected to the cavil and controul of any others of a family that have used me so very ill.
Now, indeed, Sir, you are very obliging.
Dost think, Jack, that my face did not now also shine?
I held out my hand, (first consecrating it with a kiss,) for her’s. She condescended to give it me. I pressed it to my lips: You know not Captain Tomlinson, (with an air,) all storms overblown, what a happy man–
Charming couple! [his hands lifted up,] how will my good friend rejoice!
O that he were present! You know not, Madam, how dear you still are to your uncle Harlowe!
I am still unhappy ever to have disobliged him!
Not too much of that, however, fairest, thought I!
The Captain repeated his resolution of service, and that in so acceptable a manner, that the dear creature wished that neither he, nor any of his, might ever want a friend of equal benevolence.
Nor any of this, she said; for the Captain brought it in, that he had five children living, by one of the best wives and mothers, whose excellent management made him as happy as if his eight hundred pounds a year (which was all he had to boast of) were two thousand.
Without economy, the oracular lady said, no estate was large enough.
With it, the least was not too small.
Lie still, teasing villain! lie still.–I was only speaking to my conscience, Jack.
And let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, said the Captain; yet not so much from doubt, as that I may proceed upon sure grounds–You are willing to co-operate with my dear friend in a general reconciliation?
Let me tell you, Mr. Tomlinson, that if it can be distinguished, that my readiness to make up with a family, of whose generosity I have not had reason to think highly, is entirely owing to the value I have for this angel of a woman, I will not only co-operate with Mr. John Harlowe, as you ask; but I will meet with Mr. James Harlowe senior, and his lady, all the way. And furthermore, to make the son James and his sister Arabella quite easy, I will absolutely disclaim any further interest, whether living or dying, in any of the three brothers’ estates; contenting myself with what my beloved’s grandfather had bequeathed to her: for I have reason to be abundantly satisfied with my own circ.u.mstances and prospects–enough rewarded, were she not to bring a shilling in dowry, in a woman who has a merit superior to all the goods of fortune.–True as the Gospel, Belford!–Why had not this scene a real foundation?
The dear creature, by her eyes, expressed her grat.i.tude, before her lips could utter it. O Mr. Lovelace, said she–you have infinitely–And there she stopt.
The Captain run over in my praise. He was really affected.
O that I had not such a mixture of revenge and pride in my love, thought I!–But, (my old plea,) cannot I make her amends at any time? And is not her virtue now in the height of its probation?–Would she lay aside, like the friends of my uncontending Rosebud, all thoughts of defiance–Would she throw herself upon my mercy, and try me but one fortnight in the life of honour–What then?–I cannot say, What then–
Do not despise me, Jack, for my inconsistency–in no two letters perhaps agreeing with myself–Who expects consistency in men of our character?–But I am mad with love–fired by revenge–puzzled with my own devices–my invention is my curse–my pride my punishment–drawn five or six ways at once, can she possibly be so unhappy as I?–O why, why, was this woman so divinely excellent!–Yet how know I that she is? What have been her trials? Have I had the courage to make a single one upon her person, though a thousand upon her temper?–Enow, I hope, to make her afraid of ever more disobliging me more!–
I must banish reflection, or I am a lost man. For these two hours past have I hated myself for my own contrivances. And this not only from what I have related to thee; but for what I have further to relate. But I have now once more steeled my heart. My vengeance is uppermost; for I have been reperusing some of Miss Howe’s virulence. The contempt they have both held me in I cannot bear.
The happiest breakfast-time, my beloved owned, that she had ever known since she had left her father’s house. [She might have let this alone.]
The Captain renewed all his protestations of service. He would write me word how his dear friend received the account he should give him of the happy situation of our affairs, and what he thought of the settlements, as soon as I should send him the draughts so kindly promised. And we parted with great professions of mutual esteem; my beloved putting up vows for the success of his generous mediation.
When I returned from attending the Captain down stairs, which I did to the outward door, my beloved met me as I entered the dining-room; complacency reigning in every lovely feature.
‘You see me already,’ said she, ‘another creature. You know not, Mr.
Lovelace, how near my heart this hoped-for reconciliation is. I am now willing to banish every disagreeable remembrance. You know not, Sir, how much you have obliged me. And O Mr. Lovelace, how happy I shall be, when my heart is lightened from the all-sinking weight of a father’s curse!
When my dear mamma–You don’t know, Sir, half the excellencies of my dear mamma! and what a kind heart she has, when it is left to follow its own impulses–When this blessed mamma shall once more fold me to her indulgent bosom! When I shall again have uncles and aunts, and a brother and sister, all striving who shall show most kindness and favour to the poor outcast, then no more an outcast–And you, Mr. Lovelace, to behold all this, with welcome–What though a little cold at first? when they come to know you better, and to see you oftener, no fresh causes of disgust occurring, and you, as I hope, having entered upon a new course, all will be warmer and warmer love on both sides, till every one will perhaps wonder, how they came to set themselves against you.’
Then drying her tears with her handkerchief, after a few moments pausing, on a sudden, as if recollecting that she had been led by her joy to an expression of it which she had not intended I should see, she retired to her chamber with precipitation; leaving me almost as unable to stand it as herself.
In short, I was–I want words to say how I was–my nose had been made to tingle before; my eyes have before been made to glisten by this soul-moving beauty; but so very much affected, I never was–for, trying to check my sensibility, it was too strong for me, and I even sobbed– Yes, by my soul, I audibly sobbed, and was forced to turn from her before she had well finished her affecting speech.
I want, methinks, now I have owned the odd sensation, to describe it to thee–the thing was so strange to me–something choking, as it were, in my throat–I know not how–yet, I must needs say, though I am out of countenance upon the recollection, that there was something very pretty in it; and I wish I could know it again, that I might have a more perfect idea of it, and be better able to describe it to thee.
But this effect of her joy on such an occasion gives me a high notion of what that virtue must be [What other name can I call it?] which in a mind so capable of delicate transport, should be able to make so charming a creature, in her very bloom, all frost and snow to every advance of love from the man she hates not. This must be all from education too–Must it not, Belford? Can education have stronger force in a woman’s heart than nature?–Sure it cannot. But if it can, how entirely right are parents to cultivate their daughters’ minds, and to inspire them with notions of reserve and distance to our s.e.x: and indeed to make them think highly of their own! for pride is an excellent subst.i.tute, let me tell thee, where virtue shines not out, as the sun, in its own unborrowed l.u.s.tre.
LETTER VIII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
And now it is time to confess (and yet I know that thy conjectures are aforehand with my exposition) that this Captain Tomlinson, who is so great a favourite with my charmer, and who takes so much delight in healing breaches, and reconciling differences, is neither a greater man nor a less than honest Patrick M’Donald, attended by a discarded footman of his own finding out.
Thou knowest what a various-lifed rascal he is; and to what better hopes born and educated. But that ingenious knack of forgery, for which he was expelled the Dublin-University, and a detection since in evidenceship, have been his ruin. For these have thrown him from one country to another; and at last, into the way of life, which would make him a fit husband for Miss Howe’s Townsend with her contrabands. He is, thou knowest, admirably qualified for any enterprize that requires adroitness and solemnity. And can there, after all, be a higher piece of justice, than to keep one smuggler in readiness to play against another?
‘Well, but, Lovelace, (methinks thou questionest,) how camest thou to venture upon such a contrivance as this, when, as thou hast told me, the Lady used to be a month at a time at this uncle’s; and must therefore, in all probability, know, that there was not a Captain Tomlinson in all the neighbourhood, at least no one of the name so intimate with him as this man pretends to be?’
This objection, Jack, is so natural a one, that I could not help observing to my charmer, that she must surely have heard her uncle speak of this gentleman. No, she said, she never had. Besides she had not been at her uncle Harlowe’s for near ten months [this I had heard from her before]: and there were several gentlemen who used the same green, whom she knew not.
We are all very ready, thou knowest, to believe what she likes.
And what was the reason, thinkest thou, that she had not been of so long a time at this uncle’s?–Why, this old sinner, who imagines himself ent.i.tled to call me to account for my freedoms with the s.e.x, has lately fallen into familiarities, as it is suspected, with his housekeeper; who a.s.sumes airs upon it.–A cursed deluding s.e.x!–In youth, middle age, or dotage, they take us all in.
Dost thou not see, however, that this housekeeper knows nothing, nor is to know any thing, of the treaty of reconciliation designed to be set on foot; and therefore the uncle always comes to the Captain, the Captain goes not to the uncle? And this I surmised to the lady. And then it was a natural suggestion, that the Captain was the rather applied to, as he is a stranger to the rest of the family–Need I tell thee the meaning of all this?
But this intrigue of the antient is a piece of private history, the truth of which my beloved cares not to own, and indeed affects to disbelieve: as she does also some puisny gallantries of her foolish brother; which, by way of recrimination, I have hinted at, without naming my informant in their family.
‘Well but, methinks, thou questionest again, Is it not probable that Miss Howe will make inquiry after such a man as Tomlinson?–And when she cannot–‘
I know what thou wouldst say–but I have no doubt, that Wilson will be so good, if I desire it, as to give into my own hands any letter that may be brought by Collins to his house, for a week to come. And now I hope thou art satisfied.
I will conclude with a short story.
‘Two neighbouring sovereigns were at war together, about some pitiful chuck-farthing thing or other; no matter what; for the least trifles will set princes and children at loggerheads. Their armies had been drawn up in battalia some days, and the news of a decisive action was expected every hour to arrive at each court. At last, issue was joined; a b.l.o.o.d.y battle was fought; and a fellow who had been a spectator of it, arriving, with the news of a complete victory, at the capital of one of the princes some time before the appointed couriers, the bells were set a ringing, bonfires and illuminations were made, and the people went to bed intoxicated with joy and good liquor. But the next day all was reversed: The victorious enemy, pursuing his advantage, was expected every hour at the gates of the almost defenceless capital. The first reporter was hereupon sought for, and found; and being questioned, pleaded a great deal of merit, in that he had, in so dismal a situation, taken such a s.p.a.ce of time from the distress of his fellow-citizens, and given it to festivity, as were the hours between the false good news and the real bad.’
Do thou, Belford, make the application. This I know, that I have given greater joy to my beloved, than she had thought would so soon fall to her share. And as the human life is properly said to be chequerwork, no doubt but a person of her prudence will make the best of it, and set off so much good against so much bad, in order to strike as just a balance as possible.
[The Lady, in three several letters, acquaints her friend with the most material pa.s.sages and conversations contained in those of Mr. Lovelace’s preceding. These are her words, on relating what the commission of the pretended Tomlinson was, after the apprehensions that his distant inquiry had given her:]