But whither, whither, my dearest love, would you go!--Think you not that I will follow you, were it to the world"s end!--Whither would you go?
Well do you ask me, whither I would go, who have been the occasion that I have not a friend left!--But G.o.d, who knows my innocence, and my upright intentions, will not wholly abandon me when I am out of your power; but while I am in it, I cannot expect a gleam of the divine grace or favour to reach me.
How severe is this!--How shockingly severe!--Out of your presence, my angry fair-one, I can neither hope for the one nor the other. As my cousin Montague, in the letter you have read, observes, You are my polar star and my guide, and if ever I am to be happy, either here or hereafter, it must be in and by you.
She would then have opened the door. But I, respectfully opposing her, Begone, man! Begone, Mr. Lovelace! said she, stop not in my way. If you would not that I should attempt the window, give me pa.s.sage by the door; for, once more, you have no right to detain me.
Your resentments, my dearest life, I will own to be well grounded. I will acknowledge that I have been all in fault. On my knee, [and down I dropt,] I ask your pardon. And can you refuse to ratify your own promise? Look forward to the happy prospect before us. See you not my Lord M. and Lady Sarah longing to bless you, for blessing me, and their whole family? Can you take no pleasure in the promised visit of Lady Betty and my cousin Montague? And in the protection they offer you, if you are dissatisfied with mine? Have you no wish to see your uncle"s friend? Stay only till Captain Tomlinson comes. Receive from him the news of your uncle"s compliance with the wishes of both.
She seemed altogether distressed; was ready to sink; and forced to lean against the wainscot, as I kneeled at her feet. A stream of tears at last burst from her less indignant eyes. Good heaven! said she, lifting up her lovely face, and clasped hands, what is at last to be my destiny?
Deliver me from this dangerous man; and direct me--I know not what to do, what I can do, nor what I ought to do!
The women, as I had owned our marriage to be but half completed, heard nothing in this whole scene to contradict (not flagrantly to contradict) what I had a.s.serted. They believed they saw in her returning temper, and staggered resolution, a love for me, which her indignation had before suppressed; and they joined to persuade her to tarry till the Captain came, and to hear his proposals; representing the dangers to which she would be exposed; the fatigues she might endure; a lady of her appearance, unguarded, unprotected. On the other hand they dwelt upon my declared contrition, and on my promises; for the performance of which they offered to be bound. So much had my kneeling humility affected them.
Women, Jack, tacitly acknowledge the inferiority of their s.e.x, in the pride they take to behold a kneeling lover at their feet.
She turned from me, and threw herself into a chair.
I arose and approached her with reverence. My dearest creature, said I, and was proceeding, but, with a face glowing with conscious dignity, she interrupted me--Ungenerous, ungrateful Lovelace! You know not the value of the heart you have insulted! Nor can you conceive how much my soul despises your meanness. But meanness must ever be the portion of the man, who can act vilely!
The women believing we were likely to be on better terms, retired. The dear perverse opposed their going; but they saw I was desirous of their absence; and when they had withdrawn, I once more threw myself at her feet, and acknowledged my offences; implored her forgiveness for this one time, and promised the most exact circ.u.mspection for the future.
It was impossible for her she said to keep her memory and forgive me.
What hadst thou seen in the conduct of Clarissa Harlowe, that should encourage such an insult upon her as thou didst dare to make? How meanly must thou think of her, that thou couldst presume to be so guilty, and expect her to be so weak as to forgive thee?
I besought her to let me read over to her Captain Tomlinson"s letter. I was sure it was impossible she could have given it the requisite attention.
I have given it the requisite attention, said she; and the other letters too. So that what I say is upon deliberation. And what have I to fear from my brother and sister? They can but complete the ruin of my fortunes with my father and uncles. Let them and welcome. You, Sir, I thank you, have lowered my fortunes; but, I bless G.o.d, that my mind is not sunk with my fortunes. It is, on the contrary, raised above fortune, and above you; and for half a word they shall have the estate they envied me for, and an acquittal from me of all the expectations from my family that may make them uneasy.
I lifted up my hands and eyes in silent admiration of her.
My brother, Sir, may think me ruined; to the praise of your character, he may think it impossible to be with you and be innocent. You have but too well justified their harshest censures by every part of your conduct.
But now that I have escaped from you, and that I am out of the reach of your mysterious devices, I will wrap myself up in mine own innocence, [and then the pa.s.sionate beauty folded her arms about herself,] and leave to time, and to my future circ.u.mspection, the re-establishment of my character. Leave me then, Sir, pursue me not!--
Good Heaven! [interrupting her]--and all this, for what?--Had I not yielded to your entreaties, (forgive me, Madam,) you could not have carried farther your resentments--
Wretch! Was it not crime enough to give occasion for those entreaties?
Wouldst thou make a merit to me, that thou didst not utterly ruin her whom thou oughtest to have protected? Begone, man! (turning from me, her face crimsoned over with pa.s.sion.)--See me no more!--I cannot bear thee in my sight!--
Dearest, dearest creature!
If I forgive thee, Lovelace--And there she stopped.--To endeavour, proceeded she, to endeavour by premeditation, by low contrivances, by cries of Fire! to terrify a poor creature who had consented to take a wretched chance with thee for life!
For Heaven"s sake,--offering to take her repulsing hand, as she was flying from me towards the closet.
What hast thou to do to plead for the sake of Heaven in thy favour!--O darkest of human minds!
Then turning from me, wiping her eyes, and again turning towards me, but her sweet face half aside, What difficulties hast thou involved me in!
That thou hadst a plain path before thee, after thou hadst betrayed me into thy power.--At once my mind takes in the whole of thy crooked behaviour; and if thou thinkest of Clarissa Harlowe as her proud heart tells her thou oughtest to think of her, thou wilt seek thy fortunes elsewhere. How often hast thou provoked me to tell thee, that my soul is above thee!
For Heaven"s sake, Madam, for a soul"s sake, which it is in your power to save from perdition, forgive me the past offence. I am the greatest villain on earth if it was a premeditated one; yet I presume not to excuse myself. On your mercy I throw myself. I will not offer at any plea but that of penitence. See but Captain Tomlinson.--See but Lady Betty and my cousin; let them plead for me; let them be guarantees for my honour.
If Captain Tomlinson come while I stay here, I may see him; but as for you, Sir--
Dearest creature! let me beg of you not to aggravate my offence to the Captain when he comes. Let me beg of you--
What askest thou? It is not that I shall be of party against myself?
That I shall palliate--
Do not charge me, Madam, interrupted I, with villainous premeditation!
--Do not give such a construction to my offence as may weaken your uncle"s opinion--as may strengthen your brother"s--
She flung from me to the further end of the room, [she could go no further,] and just then Mrs. Moore came up, and told her that dinner was ready, and that she had prevailed upon Miss Rawlins to give her her company.
You must excuse me, Mrs. Moore, said she. Miss Rawlins I hope also will --but I cannot eat--I cannot go down. As for you, Sir, I suppose you will think it right to depart hence; at least till the gentleman comes whom you expect.
I respectfully withdrew into the next room, that Mrs. Moore might acquaint her, (I durst not myself,) that I was her lodger and boarder, as, whisperingly, I desired that she would; and meeting Miss Rawlins in the pa.s.sage, Dearest Miss Rawlins, said I, stand my friend; join with Mrs.
Moore to pacify my spouse, if she has any new flights upon my having taken lodgings, and intending to board here. I hope she will have more generosity than to think of hindering a gentlewoman from letting her lodgings.
I suppose Mrs. Moore, (whom I left with my fair-one,) had apprized her of this before Miss Rawlins went in; for I heard her say, while I withheld Miss Rawlins,--"No, indeed: he is much mistaken--surely he does not think I will."
They both expostulated with her, as I could gather from bits and sc.r.a.ps of what they said; for they spoke so low, that I could not hear any distinct sentence, but from the fair perverse, whose anger made her louder. And to this purpose I heard her deliver herself in answer to different parts of their talk to her:--"Good Mrs. Moore, dear Miss Rawlins, press me no further:--I cannot sit down at table with him!"
They said something, as I suppose in my behalf--"O the insinuating wretch! What defence have I against a man, who, go where I will, can turn every one, even of the virtuous of my s.e.x, in his favour?"
After something else said, which I heard not distinctly--"This is execrable cunning!--Were you to know his wicked heart, he is not without hope of engaging you two good persons to second him in the vilest of his machinations."
How came she, (thought I, at the instant,) by all this penetration? My devil surely does not play me booty. If I thought he did, I would marry, and live honest, to be even with him.
I suppose then they urged the plea which I hinted to Miss Rawlins at going in, that she would not be Mrs. Moore"s hindrance; for thus she expressed herself--"He will no doubt pay you your own price. You need not question his liberality; but one house cannot hold us.--Why, if it would, did I fly from him, to seek refuge among strangers?"
Then, in answer to somewhat else they pleaded--""Tis a mistake, Madam; I am not reconciled to him, I will believe nothing he says. Has he not given you a flagrant specimen of what a man he is, and of what his is capable, by the disguises you saw him in? My story is too long, and my stay here will be but short; or I could convince you that my resentments against him are but too well founded."
I suppose that they pleaded for her leave for my dining with them; for she said--"I have nothing to say to that: it is your own house, Mrs.
Moore--it is your own table--you may admit whom you please to it, only leave me at my liberty to choose my company."
Then, in answer, as I suppose, to their offer of sending her up a plate-- "A bit of bread, if you please, and a gla.s.s of water; that"s all I can swallow at present. I am really very much discomposed. Saw you not how bad I was? Indignation only could have supported my spirits!--
"I have no objections to his dining with you, Madam;" added she, in reply, I suppose, to a farther question of the same nature--"But I will not stay a night in the same house where he lodges."
I presume Miss Rawlins had told her that she would not stay dinner: for she said,--"Let me not deprive Mrs. Moore of your company, Miss Rawlins.
You will not be displeased with his talk. He can have no design upon you."
Then I suppose they pleaded what I might say behind her back, to make my own story good:--"I care not what he says or what he thinks of me.
Repentance and amendment are all the harm I wish him, whatever becomes of me!"
By her accent she wept when she spoke these last words.