Clarissa, Volume 5 | Page 4

thinking so hardly of me as
sometimes she had seemed to do, if she were to see the letters which
generally passed between Mr. Belford and me [I hope, Jack, thou hast
more manners, than to give me the lie, though but in thy heart].
She then spoke: after declining my compliment in such a manner, as

only a person can do, who deserved it, she said, For her part, she had
always thought me a man of sense [a man of sense, Jack! What a
niggardly praise!],--and should therefore hope, that, when I wrote, it
exceeded even my speech: for that it was impossible, be the letters
written in as easy and familiar a style as they would, but that they must
have that advantage from sitting down to write them which prompt
speech could not always have. She should think it very strange
therefore, if my letters were barren of sentiment; and as strange, if I
gave myself liberties upon premeditation, which could have no excuse
at all, but from a thoughtlessness, which itself wanted excuse.--But if
Mr. Belford's letters and mine were upon subjects so general, and some
of them equally (she presumed) instructive and entertaining, she could
not but say, that she should be glad to see any of them; and particularly
those which Miss Martin had seen and praised.
This was put close.
I looked at her, to see if I could discover any tincture of jealousy in this
hint; that Miss Martin had seen what I had not shown to her. But she
did not look it: so I only said, I should be very proud to show her not
only those, but all that passed between Mr. Belford and me; but I must
remind her, that she knew the condition.
No, indeed! with a sweet lip pouted out, as saucy as pretty; implying a
lovely scorn, that yet can only be lovely in youth so blooming, and
beauty so divinely distinguished.
How I long to see such a motion again! Her mouth only can give it.
But I am mad with love--yet eternal will be the distance, at the rate I go
on: now fire, now ice, my soul is continually upon the hiss, as I may
say. In vain, however, is the trial to quench--what, after all, is
unquenchable.
Pr'ythee, Belford, forgive my nonsense, and my Vulcan-like
metaphors--Did I not tell thee, not that I am sick of love, but that I am
mad with it? Why brought I such an angel into such a house? into such
company?--And why do I not stop my ears to the sirens, who, knowing
my aversion to wedlock, are perpetually touching that string?
I was not willing to be answered so easily: I was sure, that what passed
between two such young ladies (friends so dear) might be seen by
every body: I had more reason than any body to wish to see the letters
that passed between her and Miss Howe; because I was sure they must

be full of admirable instruction, and one of the dear correspondents had
deigned to wish my entire reformation.
She looked at me as if she would look me through: I thought I felt eye-
beam, after eye-beam, penetrate my shivering reins.--But she was silent.
Nor needed her eyes the assistance of speech.
Nevertheless, a little recovering myself, I hoped that nothing unhappy
had befallen either Miss Howe or her mother. The letter of yesterday
sent by a particular hand: she opening it with great emotion--seeming
to have expected it sooner--were the reasons for my apprehensions.
We were then at Muswell-hill: a pretty country within the eye, to Polly,
was the remark, instead of replying to me.
But I was not so to be answered--I should expect some charming
subjects and characters from two such pens: I hoped every thing went
on well between Mr. Hickman and Miss Howe. Her mother's heart, I
said, was set upon that match: Mr. Hickman was not without his merits:
he was what the ladies called a SOBER man: but I must needs say, that
I thought Miss Howe deserved a husband of a very different cast!
This, I supposed, would have engaged her into a subject from which I
could have wiredrawn something:--for Hickman is one of her
favourites-- why, I can't divine, except for the sake of opposition of
character to that of thy honest friend.
But she cut me short by a look of disapprobation, and another cool
remark upon a distant view; and, How far off, Miss Horton, do you
think that clump of trees may be? pointing out of the coach.--So I had
done.
Here endeth all I have to write concerning our conversation on this our
agreeable airing.
We have both been writing ever since we came home.