LETTER XXXV
MR. LOVELACE[IN CONTINUATION.]
The lady staid longer above than we wished; and I hoping that (lady-like)she only waited for an invitation to return to us, desired the widowBevis, in the Captain's name, (who wanted to go to town,) to request thefavour of her company.
I cared not to send up either Miss Rawlins or Mrs. Moore on the errand,lest my beloved should be in a communicative disposition; especially asshe had hinted at an appeal to Miss Rawlins; who, besides, has such anunbounded curiosity.
Mrs. Bevis presently returned with an answer (winking and pinking at me)that the lady would follow her down.
Miss Rawlins could not but offer to retire, as the others did. Her eyes,however, intimated that she had rather stay. But they not being answeredas she seemed to wish, she went with the rest, but with slower feet; andhad hardly left the parlour, when the lady entered it by the other door;a melancholy dignity in her person and air.
She sat down. Pray, Mr. Tomlinson, be seated.
He took his chair over against her. I stood behind her's that I mightgive him agreed-upon signals, should there be occasion for them.
As thus--a wink of the left eye was to signify push that point, Captain.
A wink of the right, and a nod, was to indicate approbation of what hehad said.
My fore-finger held up, and biting my lip, get off of that, as fast aspossible.
A right-forward nod, and a frown, swear to it, Captain.
My whole spread hand, to take care not to say too much on that particularsubject.
A scowling brow, and a positive nod, was to bid him rise in temper.
And these motions I could make, even those with my hand, without holdingup my arm, or moving my wrist, had the women been there; as, when themotions were agreed upon, I knew not but they would.
She hemmed--I was going to speak, to spare her supposed confusion: butthis lady never wants presence of mind, when presence of mind isnecessary either to her honour, or to that conscious dignity whichdistinguishes her from all the women I ever knew.
I have been considering, said she, as well as I was able, of every thingthat has passed; and of all that has been said; and of my unhappysituation. I mean no ill, I wish no ill, to any creature living, Mr.Tomlinson. I have always delighted to draw favourable rather thanunfavourable conclusions; sometimes, as it has proved, for very badhearts. Censoriousness, whatever faults I have, is not naturally myfault.--But, circumstanced as I am, treated as I have been, unworthilytreated, by a man who is full of contrivances, and glories in them--
Lovel. My dearest life!--But I will not interrupt you.
Cl. Thus treated, it becomes me to doubt--it concerns my honour todoubt, to fear, to apprehend--your intervention, Sir, is so seasonable,so kind, for this man--my uncle's expedient, the first of the kind heever, I believe, thought of! a plain, honest, good-minded man, as he is,not affecting such expedients--your report in conformity to it--theconsequences of that report; the alarm taken by my brother; his rashresolution upon it--the alarm taken by Lady Betty, and the rest of Mr.Lovelace's relations--the sudden letters written to him upon it, which,with your's, he showed me--all ceremony, among persons born observers ofceremony, and entitled to value themselves upon their distinction,dispensed with--all these things have happened so quick, and some of themso seasonable--
Lovel. Lady Betty, you see, Madam, in her letter, dispenses withpunctilo, avowedly in compliment to you. Charlotte, in her's, professesto do the same for the same reason. Good Heaven! that the respectintended you by my relations, who, in every other case, are reallypunctilious, should be thus construed! They were glad, Madam, to have anopportunity to compliment you at my expense. Every one of my familytakes delight in rallying me. But their joy on the supposed occasion--
Cl. Do I doubt, Sir, that you have not something to say for any thingyou think fit to do? I am speaking to Captain Tomlinson, Sir. I willyou would be pleased to withdraw--at least to come from behind my chair.
And she looked at the Captain, observing, no doubt, that his eyes seemedto take lessons from mine.
A fair match, by Jupiter!
The Captain was disconcerted. The dog had not had such a blush upon hisface for ten years before. I bit my lip for vexation: walked about theroom; but nevertheless took my post again; and blinked with my eyes tothe Captain, as a caution for him to take more care of his: and thenscouling with my brows, and giving the nod positive, I as good as said,resent that, Captain.
Capt. I hope, Madam, you have no suspicion that I am capable--
Cl. Be not displeased with me, Captain Tomlinson. I have told you thatI am not of a suspicious temper. Excuse me for the sake of my sincerity.There is not, I will be bold to say, a sincerer heart in the world thanher's before you.
She took out her handkerchief, and put it to her eyes.
I was going, at that instant, after her example, to vouch for the honestyof my heart; but my conscience Mennelled upon me; and would not sufferthe meditated vow to pass my lips.--A devilish thing, thought I, for aman to be so little himself, when he has most occasion for himself!
The villain Tomlinson looked at me with a rueful face, as if he beggedleave to cry for company. It might have been as well, if he had cried.A feeling heart, or the tokens of it given by a sensible eye, are veryreputable things, when kept in countenance by the occasion.
And here let me fairly own to thee, that twenty times in this tryingconversation I said to myself, that could I have thought that I shouldhave had all this trouble, and incurred all this guilt, I would have beenhonest at first. But why, Jack, is this dear creature so lovely, yet soinvincible?--Ever heardst thou before that the sweets of May blossomed inDecember?
Capt. Be pleased--be pleased, Madam--if you have any doubts of myhonour--
A whining varlet! He should have been quite angry--For what gave I himthe nod positive? He should have stalked again to the window, as for hiswhip and hat.
Cl. I am only making such observations as my youth, my inexperience,and my present unhappy circumstances, suggest to me--a worthy heart(such, I hope, as Captain Tomlinson's) need not fear an examination--need not fear being looked into--whatever doubts that man, who has beenthe cause of my errors, and, as my severe father imprecated, the punisherof the errors he has caused, might have had of me, or of my honour, Iwould have forgiven him for them, if he had fairly proposed them to me:for some doubts perhaps such a man might have of the future conduct of acreature whom he could induce to correspond with him against parentalprohibition, and against the lights which her own judgment threw in uponher: and if he had propounded them to me like a man and a gentleman, Iwould have been glad of the opportunity given me to clear my intentions,and to have shown myself entitled to his good opinion--and I hope you,Sir--
Capt. I am ready to hear all your doubts, Madam, and to clear them up--
Cl. I will only put it, Sir, to your conscience and honour--
The dog sat uneasy--he shuffled with his feet--her eye was upon him--hewas, therefore, after the rebuff he had met with, afraid to look at mefor my motions; and now turned his eyes towards me, then from me, as ifhe would unlook his own looks.
Cl. That all is true, that you have written, and that you have told me.
I gave him a right forward nod, and a frown--as much as to say, swear toit, Captain. But the varlet did not round it off as I would have hadhim. However, he averred that it was.
He had hoped, he said, that the circumstances with which his commissionwas attended, and what he had communicated to her, which he could notknow but from his dear friend, her uncle, might have shielded him evenfrom the shadow of suspicion. But I am contented, said he, stammering,to be thought--to be thought--what--what you please to think of me--till,till, you are satisfied--
A whore's-bird!
Cl. The circumstances you refer to, I must own ought to shield you,Sir, from suspicion; but the man before you is a man that would make anangel suspected, sho
uld that angel plead for him.
I came forward,--traversed the room,--was indeed in a bl--dy passion.--Ihave no patience, Madam!--and again I bit my unpersuasive lips.
Cl. No man ought to be impatient at imputations he is not ashamed todeserve. An innocent man will not be outrageous upon such imputations.A guilty man ought not. [Most excellently would this charming creaturecap sentences with Lord M.!] But I am not now trying you, Sir, [to me,]on the foot of your merits. I am only sorry that I am constrained to putquestions to this worthier gentleman, [worthier gentleman, Jack!] which,perhaps, I ought not to put, so far as they regard himself. And I hope,Captain Tomlinson, that you, who know not Mr. Lovelace so well, as, to myunhappiness, I do, and who have children of your own, will excuse a pooryoung creature, who is deprived of all worldly protection, and who hasbeen insulted and endangered by the most designing man in the world, and,perhaps, by a confederacy of his creatures.
There she stopt; and stood up, and looked at me; fear, nevertheless,apparently mingled with her anger.--And so it ought. I was glad,however, of this poor sign of love; no one fears whom they value not.
Women's tongues were licensed, I was going to say; but my consciencewould not let me call her a woman; nor use to her so vulgar a phrase. Icould only rave by my motions, lift up my eyes, spread my hands, rub myface, pull my wig, and look like a fool. Indeed, I had a great mind torun mad. Had I been alone with her, I would; and she should have takenconsequences.
The Captain interposed in my behalf; gently, however, and as a man notquite sure that he was himself acquitted. Some of the pleas we had bothinsisted on he again enforced; and, speaking low, Poor gentleman! saidhe, who can but pity him? Indeed, Madam, it is easy to see, with all hisfailings, the power you have over him!
Cl. I have no pleasure, Sir, in distressing any one; not even him, whohas so much distressed me. But, Sir, when I THINK, and when I see himbefore me, I cannot command my temper! Indeed, indeed, CaptainTomlinson, Mr. Lovelace has not acted by me either as a grateful or agenerous man, nor even as a prudent one!--He knows not, as I told himyesterday, the value of the heart he has insulted!
There the angel stopt; her handkerchief at her eyes.
O Belford, Belford! that she should so greatly excel, as to make me, attimes, appear as a villain in my own eyes!
I besought her pardon. I promised that it should be the study of mywhole life to deserve it. My faults, I said, whatever they had been,were rather faults in her apprehension than in fact. I besought her togive way to the expedient I had hit upon--I repeated it. The Captainenforced it, for her uncle's sake. I, once more, for the sake of thegeneral reconciliation; for the sake of all my family; for the sake ofpreventing further mischief.
She wept. She seemed staggered in her resolution--she turned from me.I mentioned the letter of Lord M. I besought her to resign to LadyBetty's mediation all our differences, if she would not forgive me beforeshe saw her.
She turned towards me--she was going to speak; but her heart was full,and again she turned away her eyes,--And do you really and indeed expectLady Betty and Miss Montague?--And do you--Again she stopt.
I answered in a solemn manner.
She turned from me her whole face, and paused, and seemed to consider.But, in a passionate accent, again turning towards me, [O how difficult,Jack, for a Harlowe spirit to forgive!] Let her Ladyship come, if shepleases, said she, I cannot, cannot, wish to see her; and if I did seeher, and she were to plead for you, I cannot wish to hear her! The moreI think, the less I can forgive an attempt, that I am convinced wasintended to destroy me. [A plaguy strong word for the occasion,supposing she was right!] What has my conduct been, that an insult ofsuch a nature should be offered to me, and it would be a weakness in meto forgive? I am sunk in my own eyes! And how can I receive a visitthat must depress me more?
The Captain urged her in my favour with greater earnestness than before.We both even clamoured, as I may say, for mercy and forgiveness. [Didstthou never hear the good folks talk of taking Heaven by storm?]--Contrition repeatedly avowed; a total reformation promised; the happyexpedient again urged.
Cl. I have taken my measures. I have gone too far to recede, or towish to recede. My mind is prepared for adversity. That I have notdeserved the evils I have met with is my consolation; I have written toMiss Howe what my intentions are. My heart is not with you--it isagainst you, Mr. Lovelace. I had not written to you as I did in theletter I left behind me, had I not resolved, whatever became of me, torenounce you for ever.
I was full of hope now. Severe as her expressions were, I saw she wasafraid that I should think of what she had written. And, indeed, herletter is violence itself.--Angry people, Jack, should never write whiletheir passion holds.
Lovel. The severity you have shown me, Madam, whether by pen or byspeech, shall never have place in my remembrance, but for your honor. Inthe light you have taken things, all is deserved, and but the naturalresult of virtuous resentment; and I adore you, even for the pangs youhave given me.
She was silent. She had employment enough with her handkerchief at hereyes.
Lovel. You lament, sometimes, that you have no friends of your own sexto consult with. Miss Rawlins, I must confess, is too inquisitive to beconfided in, [I liked not, thou mayest think, her appeal to MissRawlins.] She may mean well. But I never in my life knew a person, whowas fond of prying into the secrets of others, that was fit to betrusted. The curiosity of such is governed by pride, which is notgratified but by whispering about a secret till it becomes public, inorder to show either their consequence, or their sagacity. It is so inevery case. What man or woman, who is covetous of power, or of makinga right use of it? But in the ladies of my family you may confide. Itis their ambition to think of you as one of themselves. Renew but yourconsent to pass to the world, for the sake of your uncle's expedient, andfor the prevention of mischief, as a lady some time married. Lady Bettymay be acquainted with the naked truth; and you may, (as she hopes youwill,) accompany her to her seat; and, if it must be so, consider me asin a state of penitence or probation, to be accepted or rejected, as Imay appear to deserve.
The Captain again clapt his hands on his breast, and declared, upon hishonour, that this was a proposal that, were the case that of his owndaughter, and she were not resolved upon immediate marriage, (which yethe thought by far the more eligible choice,) he should be very muchconcerned were she to refuse it.
Cl. Were I with Mr. Lovelace's relations, and to pass as his wife tothe world, I could not have any choice. And how could he be then in astate of probation?--O Mr. Tomlinson, you are too much his friend to seeinto his drift.
Capt. His friend, Madam, as I said before, as I am your's and youruncle's, for the sake of a general reconciliation, which must begin witha better understanding between yourselves.
Lovel. Only, my dearest life, resolve to attend the arrival and visitof Lady Betty; and permit her to arbitrate between us.
Capt. There can be no harm in that, Madam. You can suffer noinconvenience from that. If Mr. Lovelace's offence be such, that a womanof Lady Betty's character judges it to be unpardonable, why then--
Cl. [Interrupting; and to me,] If I am not invaded by you, Sir; if Iam, (as I ought to be,) my own mistress, I think to stay here, in thishonest house, [and then had I an eye-beam, as the Captain calls it,flashed at me,] till I receive a letter from Miss Howe. That, I hope,will be in a day or two. If in that time the ladies come whom youexpect, and if they are desirous to see the creature whom you have madeunhappy, I shall know whether I can or cannot receive their visit.
She turned short to the door, and, retiring, went up stairs to herchamber.
O Sir, said the Captain, as soon as she was gone, what an angel of awoman is this! I have been, and I am a very wicked man. But if anything should happen amiss to this admirable lady, through my means, Ishall have more cause for self-reproach than for all the bad actionsof my life put together.
And h
is eyes glistened.
Nothing can happen amiss, thou sorrowful dog!--What can happen amiss?Are we to form our opinion of things by the romantic notions of a girl,who supposes that to be the greatest which is the slightest of evils?Have I not told thee our whole story? Has she not broken her promise?Did I not generously spare her, when in my power? I was decent, thoughI had her at such advantage.--Greater liberties have I taken with girlsof character at a common romping 'bout, and all has been laughed off,and handkerchief and head-clothes adjusted, and petticoats shaken torights, in my presence. Never man, in the like circumstances, andresolved as I was resolved, goaded on as I was goaded on, as well by herown sex, as by the impulses of a violent passion, was ever so decent.Yet what mercy does she show me?
Now, Jack, this pitiful dog was such another unfortunate one as thyself--his arguments serving to confirm me in the very purpose he brought themto prevail upon me to give up. Had he left me to myself, to thetenderness of my own nature, moved as I was when the lady withdrew, andhad he set down, and made odious faces, and said nothing--it is verypossible that I should have taken the chair over against him, which shehad quitted, and have cried and blubbered with him for half an hourtogether. But the varlet to argue with me!--to pretend to convince aman, who knows in is heart that he is doing a wrong thing!--He must needsthink that this would put me upon trying what I could say for myself; andwhen the extended compunction can be carried from the heart to the lipsit must evaporate in words.
Thou, perhaps, in this place, wouldst have urged the same pleas that heurged. What I answered to him therefore may do for thee, and spare theethe trouble of writing, and me of reading, a good deal of nonsense.
Capt. You were pleased to tell me, Sir, that you only proposed to tryher virtue; and that you believed you should actually marry her.
Lovel. So I shall, and cannot help it. I have no doubt but I shall.And as to trying her, is she not now in the height of her trial? Have Inot reason to think that she is coming about? Is she not now yielding upher resentment for an attempt which she thinks she ought not to forgive?And if she do, may she not forgive the last attempt?--Can she, in a word,resent that more than she does this? Women often, for their own sakes,will keep the last secret; but will ostentatiously din the ears of godsand men with their clamours upon a successless offer. It was my folly,my weakness, that I gave her not more cause for this her unsparingviolence!
Capt. O Sir, you will never be able to subdue this lady without force.
Lovel. Well, then, puppy, must I not endeavour to find a proper timeand place--
Capt. Forgive me, Sir! but can you think of force to such a finecreature?
Lovel. Force, indeed, I abhor the thought of; and for what, thinkestthou, have I taken all the pains I have taken, and engaged so manypersons in my cause, but to avoid the necessity of violent compulsion?But yet, imaginest thou that I expect direct consent from such a lover offorms as this lady is known to be! Let me tell thee, M'Donald, that thymaster, Belford, has urged on thy side of the question all that thoucanst urge. Must I have every sorry fellow's conscience to pacify, aswell as my own?--By my soul, Patrick, she has a friend here, [clapping myhand on my breast,] that pleads for her with greater and moreirresistible eloquence than all the men in the world can plead for her.And had she not escaped me--And yet how have I answered my first designof trying her,* and in her the virtue of the most virtuous of the sex?--Perseverance, man!--Perseverance!--What! wouldst thou have me decline atrial that they make for the honour of a sex we all so dearly love?
* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII.
Then, Sir, you have no thoughts--no thoughts--[looking still moresorrowfully,] of marrying this wonderful lady?
Yes, yes, Patrick, but I have. But let me, first, to gratify my pride,bring down her's. Let me see, that she loves me well enough to forgiveme for my own sake. Has she not heretofore lamented that she staid notin her father's house, though the consequence must have been, if she had,that she would have been the wife of the odious Solmes? If now she bebrought to consent to be mine, seest thou not that the reconciliationwith her detested relations is the inducement, as it always was, and notlove of me?--Neither her virtue nor her love can be established but uponfull trial; the last trial--but if her resistance and resentment be suchas hitherto I have reason to expect they will be, and if I find in thatresentment less of hatred of me than of the fact, then shall she be minein her own way. Then, hateful as is the life of shackles to me, will Imarry her.
Well, Sir, I can only say, that I am dough in your hands, to be mouldedinto what shape you please. But if, as I said before--
None of thy Said-before's, Patrick. I remember all thou saidst--and Iknow all thou canst farther say--thou art only, Pontius Pilate like,washing thine own hands, (don't I know thee?) that thou mayest havesomething to silence thy conscience with by loading me. But we have gonetoo far to recede. Are not all our engines in readiness? Dry up thysorrowful eyes. Let unconcern and heart's ease once more take possessionof thy solemn features. Thou hast hitherto performed extremely well.--Shame not thy past by thy future behaviour; and a rich reward awaitsthee. If thou art dough be dough; and I slapt him on the shoulder--Resume but thy former shape, and I'll be answerable for the event.
He bowed assent and compliance; went to the glass; and began to untwistand unsadden his features; pulled his wig right, as if that, as well ashis head and heart had been discomposed by his compunction, and once morebecame old Lucifer's and mine.
But didst thou think, Jack, that there was so much--What-shall-I-call-it?--in this Tomlinson? Didst thou imagine that such a fellow as that hadbowels? That nature, so long dead and buried in him, as to all humaneeffects, should thus revive and exert itself?--Yet why do I ask thisquestion of thee, who, to my equal surprise, hast shown, on the sameoccasion, the like compassionate sensibilities?
As to Tomlinson, it looks as if poverty had made him the wicked fellow heis; as plenty and wantonness have made us what we are. Necessity, afterall, is the test of principle. But what is there in this dull word, orthing, called HONESTY, that even I, who cannot in my present views beserved by it, cannot help thinking even the accidental emanations of itamiable in Tomlinson, though demonstrated in a female case; and judgingbetter of him for being capable of such?