LETTER XVII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.THURSDAY MORNING, EIGHT O'CLOCK.
Her chamber-door has not yet been opened. I must not expect she willbreakfast with me. Nor dine with me, I doubt. A little silly soul, whattroubles does she make to herself by her over-niceness!--All I have doneto her, would have been looked upon as a frolic only, a romping bout, andlaughed off by nine parts in ten of the sex accordingly. The more shemakes of it, the more painful to herself, as well as to me.
Why now, Jack, were it not better, upon her own notions, that she seemednot so sensible as she will make herself to be, if she is very angry?
But perhaps I am more afraid than I need. I believe I am. From herover-niceness arises my fear, more than from any extraordinary reason forresentment. Next time, she may count herself very happy, if she come offno worse.
The dear creature was so frightened, and so fatigued, last night, nowonder she lies it out this morning.
I hope she has had more rest than I have had. Soft and balmy, I hope,have been her slumbers, that she may meet me in tolerable temper. Allsweetly blushing and confounded--I know how she will look!--But whyshould she, the sufferer, be ashamed, when I, the trespasser, am not?
But custom is a prodigious thing. The women are told how much theirblushes heighten their graces: they practise for them therefore: blushescome as hastily when they call for them, as their tears: aye, that's it!While we men, taking blushes for a sign of guilt or sheepishness, areequally studious to suppress them.
***
By my troth, Jack, I am half as much ashamed to see the women below, asmy fair-one can be to see me. I have not yet opened my door, that I maynot be obtruded upon my them.
After all, what devils may one make of the sex! To what a height of--what shall I call it?--must those of it be arrived, who once loved a manwith so much distinction, as both Polly and Sally loved me; and yet canhave got so much above the pangs of jealousy, so much above themortifying reflections that arise from dividing and sharing with newobjects the affections of them they prefer to all others, as to wish for,and promote a competitorship in his love, and make their supreme delightconsist in reducing others to their level!--For thou canst not imagine,how even Sally Martin rejoiced last night in the thought that the lady'shour was approaching.
PAST TEN O'CLOCK.
I never longed in my life for any thing with so much impatience as to seemy charmer. She has been stirring, it seems, these two hours.
Dorcas just now tapped at her door, to take her morning commands.
She had none for her, was the answer.
She desired to know, if she would not breakfast?
A sullen and low-voiced negative received Dorcas.
I will go myself.
***
Three different times tapped I at the door, but had no answer.
Permit me, dearest creature, to inquire after your health. As you havenot been seen to-day, I am impatient to know how you do.
Not a word of answer; but a deep sigh, even to sobbing.
Let me beg of you, Madam, to accompany me up another pair of stairs--you'll rejoice to see what a happy escape we have all had.
A happy escape indeed, Jack!--For the fire had scorched the window-board,singed the hangings, and burnt through the slit-deal linings of thewindow-jambs.
No answer, Madam!--Am I not worthy of one word?--Is it thus you keep yourpromise with me?--Shall I not have the favour of your company for twominutes [only for two minutes] in the dining-room?
Hem!--and a deep sigh!--were all the answer.
Answer me but how you do! Answer me but that you are well! Is this theforgiveness that was the condition of my obedience?
Then, with a faintish, but angry voice, begone from my door!--Wretch!inhuman, barbarous, and all that is base and treacherous! begone from mydoor! Nor tease thus a poor creature, entitled to protection, notoutrage.
I see, Madam, how you keep your word with me--if a sudden impulse, theeffects of an unthought-of accident, cannot be forgiven--
O the dreadful weight of a father's curse, thus in the very letter ofit--
And then her voice dying away in murmurs inarticulate, I looked throughthe key-hole, and saw her on her knees, her face, though not towards me,lifted up, as well as hands, and these folded, depreciating, I suppose,that gloomy tyrant's curse.
I could not help being moved.
My dearest life! admit me to your presence but for two minutes, andconfirm your promised pardon; and may lightning blast me on the spot, ifI offer any thing but my penitence, at a shrine so sacred!--I willafterwards leave you for a whole day; till to-morrow morning; and thenattend you with writings, all ready to sign, a license obtained, or if itcannot, a minister without one. This once believe me! When you see thereality of the danger that gave occasion for this your unhappyresentment, you will think less hardly of me. And let me beseech you toperform a promise on which I made a reliance not altogether ungenerous.
I cannot see you! Would to Heaven I never had! If I write, that's all Ican do.
Let your writing then, my dearest life, confirm your promise: and I willwithdraw in expectation of it.
PAST ELEVEN O'CLOCK.
She rung her bell for Dorcas; and, with her door in her hand, only halfopened, gave her a billet for me.
How did the dear creature look, Dorcas?
She was dressed. She turned her face quite from me; and sighed, as ifher heart would break.
Sweet creature:--I kissed the wet wafer, and drew it from the paper withmy breath.
These are the contents.--No inscriptive Sir! No Mr. Lovelace!
I cannot see you: nor will I, if I can help it. Words cannot express theanguish of my soul on your baseness and ingratitude.
If the circumstances of things are such, that I can have no way forreconciliation with those who would have been my natural protectors fromsuch outrages, but through you, [the only inducement I have to stay amoment longer in your knowledge,] pen and ink must be, at present, theonly means of communication between us.
Vilest of men, and most detestable of plotters! how have I deserved fromyou the shocking indignities--but no more--only for your own sake, wishnot, at least for a week to come, to see
The undeservedly injured and insultedCLARISSA HARLOWE
***
So thou seest, nothing could have stood me in stead, but this plot ofTomlinson and her uncle! To what a pretty pass, nevertheless, have Ibrought myself!--Had Caesar been such a fool, he had never passed therubicon. But after he had passed it, had he retreated re infecta,intimidated by a senatorial edict, what a pretty figure would he havemade in history!--I might have known, that to attempt a robbery, and puta person in bodily fear, is as punishable as if the robbery had beenactually committed.
But not to see her for a week!--Dear, pretty soul! how she anticipates mein every thing! The counsellor will have finished the writings to-day orto-morrow, at furthest: the license with the parson, or the parsonwithout the license, must also be procured within the next four-and-twenty hours; Pritchard is as good as ready with his indenturestripartite: Tomlinson is at hand with a favourable answer from her uncle--yet not to see her for a week!----Dear sweet soul;--her good angel isgone a journey: is truanting at least. But nevertheless, in thy week'stime, or in much less, my charmer, I doubt not to complete my triumph!
But what vexes me of all things is, that such an excellent creatureshould break her word:--Fie, fie, upon her!--But nobody is absolutelyperfect! 'Tis human to err, but not to persevere--I hope my charmercannot be inhuman!