LETTER XLII
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SAT. MORN., EIGHT O'CLOCK, APRIL 8.
Whether you will blame me or not, I cannot tell, but I have depositeda letter confirming my resolution to leave this house on Monday next,within the hour mentioned in my former, if possible. I have not kept acopy of it. But this is the substance:
I tell him, 'That I have no way to avoid the determined resolution ofmy friends in behalf of Mr. Solmes, but by abandoning this house by hisassistance.'
I have not pretended to make a merit with him on this score; for Iplainly tell him, 'That could I, without an unpardonable sin, die when Iwould, I would sooner make death my choice, than take a step, which allthe world, if not my own heart, would condemn me for taking.'
I tell him, 'That I shall not try to bring any other clothes with methan those I shall have on; and those but my common wearing-apparel;lest I should be suspected. That I must expect to be denied thepossession of my estate: but that I am determined never to consent to alitigation with my father, were I to be reduced to ever so low a state:so that the protection I am to be obliged for to any one, must be alonefor the distress sake. That, therefore, he will have nothing to hope forfrom this step that he had not before: and that in ever light Ireserve to myself to accept or refuse his address, as his behaviour andcircumspection shall appear to me to deserve.'
I tell him, 'That I think it best to go into a private lodging in theneighbourhood of Lady Betty Lawrance; and not to her ladyship's house;that it may not appear to the world that I have refuged myself in hisfamily; and that a reconciliation with my friends may not, on thataccount, be made impracticable: that I will send for thither my faithfulHannah; and apprize only Miss Howe where I am: that he shall instantlyleave me, and go to London, or to one of Lord M.'s seats; and as he hadpromised not to come near me, but by my leave; contenting himself with acorrespondence by letter only.
'That if I find myself in danger of being discovered, and carried backby violence, I will then throw myself directly into the protectioneither of Lady Betty or Lady Sarah: but this only in case of absolutenecessity; for that it will be more to my reputation, for me, by thebest means I can, (taking advantage of my privacy,) to enter by a secondor third hand into a treaty of reconciliation with my friends.
'That I must, however, plainly tell him, 'That if, in this treaty, myfriends insist upon my resolving against marrying him, I will engageto comply with them; provided they will allow me to promise him, that Iwill never be the wife of any other man while he remains single, or isliving: that this is a compliment I am willing to pay him, in return forthe trouble and pains he has taken, and the usage he has met with onmy account: although I intimate, that he may, in a great measure, thankhimself (by reason of the little regard he has paid to his reputation)for the slights he has met with.'
I tell him, 'That I may, in this privacy, write to my cousin Morden,and, if possible, interest him in my cause.
'I take some brief notice then of his alternatives.'
You must think, my dear, that this unhappy force upon me, and thisprojected flight, make it necessary for me to account to him much soonerthan I should otherwise choose to do, for every part of my conduct.
'It is not to be expected, I tell him, that your mother will embroilherself, or suffer you or Mr. Hickman to be embroiled, on my account:and as to his proposal of my going to London, I am such an absolutestranger to every body there, and have such a bad opinion of the place,that I cannot by any means think of going thither; except I should beinduced, some time hence, by the ladies of his family to attend them.
'As to the meeting he is desirous of, I think it by no means proper;especially as it is so likely that I may soon see him. But that if anything occurs to induce me to change my mind, as to withdrawing, I willthen take the first opportunity to see him, and give him my reasons forthat change.
This, my dear, I the less scrupled to write, as it might qualify him tobear such a disappointment, should I give it him; he having, besides,behaved so very unexceptionably when he surprised me some time ago inthe lonely wood-house.
Finally, 'I commend myself, as a person in distress, and merely as such,to his honour, and to the protection of the ladies of his family. Irepeat [most cordially, I am sure!] my deep concern for being forced totake a step so disagreeable, and so derogatory to my honour. And havingtold him, that I will endeavour to obtain leave to dine in the IvySummer-house,* and to send Betty of some errand, when there, I leave therest to him; but imagine, that about four o'clock will be a proper timefor him to contrive some signal to let me know he is at hand, and for meto unbolt the garden-door.'
* The Ivy Summer-house (or Ivy Bower, as it was sometimes called in the family) was a place, that from a girl, this young lady delighted in. She used, in the summer months, frequently to sit and work, and read, and write, and draw, and (when permitted) to breakfast, and dine, and sometimes to sup, in it; especially when Miss Howe, who had an equal liking to it, was her visiter and guest.
She describes it, in another letter (which appears not) as 'pointing toa pretty variegated landscape of wood, water, and hilly country; whichhad pleased her so much, that she had drawn it; the piece hanging up, inher parlous, among some of her other drawings.'
I added, by way of postscript, 'That their suspicions seeming toincrease, I advise him to contrive to send or some to the usual place,as frequently as possible, in the interval of time till Monday morningten or eleven o'clock; as something may possibly happen to make me altermy mind.'
O my dear Miss Howe!--what a sad, sad thing is the necessity, forcedupon me, for all this preparation and contrivance!--But it is now toolate!--But how!--Too late, did I say?--What a word is that!--What adreadful thing, were I to repent, to find it to be too late to remedythe apprehended evil!
SATURDAY, TEN O'CLOCK.
Mr. Solmes is here. He is to dine with his new relations, as Betty tellsme he already calls them.
He would have thrown himself in my way once more: but I hurried up to myprison, in my return from my garden-walk, to avoid him.
I had, when in the garden, the curiosity to see if my letter were gone:I cannot say with an intention to take it back again if it were not,because I see not how I could do otherwise than I have done; yet, what acaprice! when I found it gone, I began (as yesterday morning) to wish ithad not: for no other reason, I believe, than because it was out of mypower.
A strange diligence in this man!--He says, he almost lives upon theplace; and I think so too.
He mentions, as you will see in his letter, four several disguises,which he puts on in one day. It is a wonder, nevertheless, that he hasnot been seen by some of our tenants: for it is impossible that anydisguise can hide the gracefulness of his figure. But this is to besaid, that the adjoining grounds being all in our own hands, and nocommon foot-paths near that part of the garden, and through the park andcoppice, nothing can be more bye and unfrequented.
Then they are less watchful, I believe, over my garden-walks, and mypoultry-visits, depending, as my aunt hinted, upon the bad characterthey have taken so much pains to fasten upon Mr. Lovelace. This, theythink, (and justly think,) must fill me with doubts. And then the regardI have hitherto had for my reputation is another of their securities.Were it not for these two, they would not surely have used me as theyhave done; and at the same time left me the opportunities which I haveseveral times had, to get away, had I been disposed to do so:* and,indeed, their dependence on both these motives would have been wellfounded, had they kept but tolerable measures with me.
* They might, no doubt, make a dependence upon the reasons she gives: but their chief reliance was upon the vigilance of their Joseph Leman; little imagining what an implement he was of Mr. Lovelace.
Then, perhaps, they have no notion of the back-door; as it is seldomopened, and leads to a place so pathless and lonesome.* If not, therecan be no other way to escape (if one would) unless by the plashy lane,so full of sp
rings, by which your servant reaches the solitary woodhouse; to which lane one must descend from a high bank, that bounds thepoultry yard. For, as to the front-way, you know, one must pass throughthe house to that, and in sight of the parlours, and the servants' hall;and then have the open courtyard to go through, and, by means of theiron-gate, be full in view, as one passes over the lawn, for a quarterof a mile together; the young plantations of elms and limes affordingyet but little shade or covert.
* This, in another of her letters, (which neither is inserted,) is thus described:--'A piece of ruins upon it, the remains of an old chapel, now standing in the midst of the coppice; here and there an over-grown oak, surrounded with ivy and mistletoe, starting up, to sanctify, as it were, the awful solemnness of the place: a spot, too, where a man having been found hanging some years ago, it was used to be thought of by us when children, and by the maid- servants, with a degree of terror, (it being actually the habitation of owls, ravens, and other ominous birds,) as haunted by ghosts, goblins, specters: the genuine result of the country loneliness and ignorance: notions which, early propagated, are apt to leave impressions even upon minds grown strong enough at the same time to despise the like credulous follies in others.'
The Ivy Summer-house is the most convenient for this heart-affectingpurpose of any spot in the garden, as it is not far from the back-door,and yet in another alley, as you may remember. Then it is seldomresorted to by any body else, except in the summer-months, because it iscool. When they loved me, they would often, for this reason, object tomy long continuance in it:--but now, it is no matter what becomes of me.Besides, cold is a bracer, as my brother said yesterday.
Here I will deposit what I have written. Let me have your prayers, mydear; and your approbation, or your censure, of the steps I have taken:for yet it may not be quite too late to revoke the appointment. I am
Your most affectionate and faithful CL. HARLOWE.
Why will you send your servant empty-handed?