LETTER LVII
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 26.
Your letter, my beloved Miss Howe, gives me great comfort. How sweetlydo I experience the truth of the wise man's observation, That a faithfulfriend is the medicine of life!
Your messenger finds me just setting out for London: the chaise at thedoor. Already I have taken leave of the good widow, who has obligedme with the company of her eldest daughter, at Mr. Lovelace's request,while he rides by us. The young gentlewoman is to return in two or threedays with the chaise, in its way to my Lord M.'s Hertfordshire seat.
I received my sister's dreadful letter on Sunday, when Mr. Lovelace wasout. He saw, on his return, my extreme anguish and dejection; and he wastold how much worse I had been: for I had fainted away more than once.
I think the contents of it have touched my head as well as my heart.
He would fain have seen it. But I would not permit that, because of thethreatenings he would have found in it against himself. As it was, theeffect it had upon me made him break out into execrations and menaces. Iwas so ill that he himself advised me to delay going to town on Monday,as I proposed to do.
He is extremely regardful and tender of me. All that you supposed wouldfollow the violent letter, from him, has followed it. He has offeredhimself to my acceptance in so unreserved a manner, that I am concernedI have written so freely and diffidently of him. Pray, my dearestfriend, keep to yourself every thing that may appear disreputable of himfrom me.
I must acquaint you that his kind behaviour, and my low-spiritedness,co-operating with your former advice, and my unhappy situation, made methat very Sunday evening receive unreservedly his declarations: and nowindeed I am more in his power than ever.
He presses me every hour (indeed as needlessly, as unkindly) for freshtokens of my esteem for him, and confidence in him. And as I have beenbrought to some verbal concessions, if he should prove unworthy, I amsure I shall have great reason to blame this violent letter: for I haveno resolution at all. Abandoned thus of all my natural friends, of whosereturning favour I have now no hopes, and only you to pity me, and yourestrained, as I may say, I have been forced to turn my desolate heartto such protection as I could find.
All my comfort is, that your advice repeatedly given me to the samepurpose, in your kind letter before me, warrants me. I now set out themore cheerfully to London on that account: for, before, a heavy weighthung upon my heart; and although I thought it best and safest to go,yet my spirits sunk, I know not why, at every motion I made towards apreparation for it.
I hope no mischief will happen on the road.--I hope these violentspirits will not meet.
Every one is waiting for me.--Pardon me, my best, my kindest friend,that I return your Norris. In these more promising prospects, I cannothave occasion for your favour. Besides, I have some hope that with myclothes they will send me the money I wrote for, although it is deniedme in the letter. If they do not, and if I should have occasion, I canbut signify my wants to so ready a friend. And I have promised to beobliged only to you. But I had rather methinks you should have it stillto say, if challenged, that nothing of this nature has been eitherrequested or done. I say this with a view entirely to my future hopesof recovering your mother's favour, which, next to that of my own fatherand mother, I am most solicitous to recover.
I must acquaint you wit one thing more, notwithstanding my hurry; andthat is, that Mr. Lovelace offered either to attend me to Lord M.'s, orto send for his chaplain, yesterday. He pressed me to consent to thisproposal most earnestly, and even seemed desirous rather to have theceremony pass here than at London: for when there, I had told him, itwas time enough to consider of so weighty and important a matter. Now,upon the receipt of your kind, your consolatory letter, methinks Icould almost wish it had been in my power to comply with his earnestsolicitations. But this dreadful letter has unhinged my whole frame.Then some little punctilio surely is necessary. No preparation made.No articles drawn. No license ready. Grief so extreme: no pleasure inprospect, nor so much as in wish--O my dear, who could think of enteringinto so solemn an engagement? Who, so unprepared, could seem to be soready?
If I could flatter myself that my indifference to all the joys of thislife proceeded from proper motives, not rather from the disappointmentsand mortifications my pride has met with, how much rather, I think,should I choose to be wedded to my shroud than to any man on earth!
Indeed I have at present no pleasure but in your friendship. Continuethat to me, I beseech you. If my heart rises hereafter to a capacity ofmore, it must be built on that foundation.
My spirits sink again on setting out. Excuse this depth of vapourishdejection, which forbids me even hope, the cordial that keeps lifefrom stagnating, and which never was denied me till within theseeight-and-forty hours.
But 'tis time to relieve you.
Adieu, my best beloved and kindest friend! Pray for your CLARISSA.