LETTER XXX
MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SATURDAY, APRIL 2.
I ought yesterday to have acknowledged the receipt of your parcel. Robintells me, that the Joseph Leman, whom you mention as the traitor, sawhim. He was in the poultry-yard, and spoke to Robin over the bankwhich divides that from the green-lane. 'What brings you hither, Mr.Robert?--But I can tell. Hie away, as fast as you can.'
No doubt but their dependence upon this fellow's vigilance, and uponBetty's, leaves you more at liberty in your airings, than you wouldotherwise be. But you are the only person I ever heard of, who in suchcircumstances had not some faithful servant to trust little offices to.A poet, my dear, would not have gone to work for an Angelica, withoutgiving her her Violetta, her Cleante, her Clelia, or some suchpretty-named confidant--an old nurse at the least.
I read to my mother several passages of your letters. But your lastparagraph, in your yesterday's quite charmed her. You have won her heartby it, she told me. And while her fit of gratitude for it lasted, I wasthinking to make my proposal, and to press it with all the earnestnessI could give it, when Hickman came in, making his legs, and stroking hiscravat and ruffles.
I could most freely have ruffled him for it. As it was--Sir, said I, sawyou not some of the servants?--Could not one of them have come in beforeyou?
He begged pardon: looked as if he knew not whether he had best keep hisground, or withdraw:--Till my mother, his fast friend, interposed--Why,Nancy, we are not upon particulars.--Pray, Mr. Hickman, sit down.
By your le--ave, good Madam, to me. You know his drawl, when his musclesgive him the respectful hesitation.--
Ay, ay, pray sit down, honest man, if you are weary--but by mamma,if you please. I desire my hoop may have its full circumference. Allthey're good for, that I know, is to clean dirty shoes, and to keepfellows at a distance.
Strange girl! cried my mother, displeased; but with a milder turn, ay,ay, Mr. Hickman, sit down by me: I have no such forbidding folly in mydress.
I looked serious; and in my heart was glad this speech of hers was notmade to your uncle Antony.
My mother, with the true widow's freedom, would mighty prudently haveled into the subject we had been upon; and would have had read to him, Iquestion not, that very paragraph in your letter which is so much inhis favour. He was highly obliged to dear Miss Harlowe, she would assurehim; that she did say--
But I asked him, if he had any news by his last letters from London?--Aquestion which he always understands to be a subject changer; forotherwise I never put it. And so if he be but silent, I am not angrywith him that he answers it not.
I choose not to mention my proposal before him, till I know how it willbe relished by my mother. If it be not well received, perhaps I mayemploy him on the occasion. Yet I don't like to owe him an obligation,if I could help it. For men who have his views in their heads, do soparade it, so strut about, if a woman condescend to employ them in heraffairs, that one has no patience with them.
However, if I find not an opportunity this day, I will make oneto-morrow.
I shall not open either of your sealed-up parcels, but in your presence.There is no need. Your conduct is out of all question with me: and bythe extracts you have given me from his letters and your own, I know allthat relates to the present situation of things between you.
I was going to give you a little flippant hint or two. But since youwish to be thought superior to all our sex in the command of yourself;and since indeed you deserve to be thought so; I will spare you. Youare, however, at times, more than half inclined to speak out. Thatyou do not, is only owing to a little bashful struggle between you andyourself, as I may say. When that is quite got over, I know you willfavour me undisguisedly with the result.
I cannot forgive your taking upon me (at so extravagant a rate too) topay my mother's servants. Indeed I am, and I will be, angry with you forit. A year's wages at once well nigh! only as, unknown to my mother, Imake it better for the servants according to their merits--how it madethe man stare!--And it may be his ruin too, as far as I know. If heshould buy a ring, and marry a sorry body in the neighbourhood with themoney, one would be loth, a twelvemonth hence, that the poor old fellowshould think he had reason to wish the bounty never conferred.
I MUST give you your way in these things, you say.--And I know there isno contradicting you: for you were ever putting too great a value uponlittle offices done for you, and too little upon the great ones you dofor others. The satisfaction you have in doing so, I grant it, repaysyou. But why should you, by the nobleness of your mind, throw reproachesupon the rest of the world? particularly, upon your own family--and uponours too?
If, as I have heard you say, it is a good rule to give WORDS thehearing, but to form our judgment of men and things by DEEDS ONLY;what shall we think of one, who seeks to find palliatives in words, fornarrowness of heart in the very persons her deeds so silently, yet soforcibly, reflect upon? Why blush you not, my dear friend, to be thussingular?--When you meet with another person whose mind is like yourown, then display your excellencies as you please: but till then,for pity's sake, let your heart and your spirit suffer a littlecontradiction.
I intended to write but a few lines; chiefly to let you know yourparcels are come safe. And accordingly I began in a large hand; and Iam already come to the end of my second sheet. But I could write a quirewithout hesitation upon a subject so copious and so beloved as is yourpraise. Not for this single instance of your generosity; since I amreally angry with you for it; but for the benevolence exemplified inthe whole tenor of your life and action; of which this is but a commoninstance. Heaven direct you, in your own arduous trials, is all I haveroom to add; and make you as happy, as you think to be
Your own ANNA HOWE.