Clarissa, Volume 6 | Page 5

blood! her death's wound have I given her!--But she
was a thief, an impostor, as well as a tormentor. She had stolen my pen.
While I was sullenly meditating, doubting, as to my future measures,
she stole it; and thus she wrote with it in a hand exactly like my own;
and would have faced me down, that it was really my own
hand-writing.
'But let me reflect before it is too late. On the manifold perfections of
this ever-amiable creature let me reflect. The hand yet is only held up.

The blow is not struck. Miss Howe's next letter may blow thee up. In
policy thou shouldest be now at least honest. Thou canst not live
without her. Thou wouldest rather marry her than lose her absolutely.
Thou mayest undoubtedly prevail upon her, inflexible as she seems to
be, for marriage. But if now she finds thee a villain, thou mayest never
more engage her attention, and she perhaps will refuse and abhor thee.
'Yet already have I not gone too far? Like a repentant thief, afraid of his
gang, and obliged to go on, in fear of hanging till he comes to be
hanged, I am afraid of the gang of my cursed contrivances.
'As I hope to live, I am sorry, (at the present writing,) that I have been
such a foolish plotter, as to put it, as I fear I have done, out of my own
power to be honest. I hate compulsion in all forms; and cannot bear,
even to be compelled to be the wretch my choice has made me! So now,
Belford, as thou hast said, I am a machine at last, and no free agent.
'Upon my soul, Jack, it is a very foolish thing for a man of spirit to have
brought himself to such a height of iniquity, that he must proceed, and
cannot help himself, and yet to be next to certain, that this very victory
will undo him.
'Why was such a woman as this thrown into my way, whose very fall
will be her glory, and, perhaps, not only my shame but my destruction?
'What a happiness must that man know, who moves regularly to some
laudable end, and has nothing to reproach himself with in his progress
to do it! When, by honest means, he attains his end, how great and
unmixed must be his enjoyments! What a happy man, in this particular
case, had I been, had it been given me to be only what I wished to
appear to be!'
Thus far had my conscience written with my pen; and see what a
recreant she had made of me!--I seized her by the throat--There!--There,
said I, thou vile impertinent!--take that, and that!--How often have I
gave thee warning!--and now, I hope, thou intruding varletess, have I
done thy business!
Puling and low-voiced, rearing up thy detested head, in vain implorest
thou my mercy, who, in thy day hast showed me so little!--Take that,
for a rising blow!--And now will thy pain, and my pain for thee, soon
be over. Lie there!--Welter on!--Had I not given thee thy death's wound,
thou wouldest have robbed me of all my joys. Thou couldest not have
mended me, 'tis plain. Thou couldest only have thrown me into despair.

Didst thou not see, that I had gone too far to recede?--Welter on, once
more I bid thee!--Gasp on!--That thy last gasp, surely!--How hard diest
thou!
ADIEU!--Unhappy man! ADIEU!
'Tis kind in thee, however, to bid me, Adieu!
Adieu, Adieu, Adieu, to thee, O thou inflexible, and, till now,
unconquerable bosom intruder!--Adieu to thee for ever!

LETTER II
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY MORN.
(JUNE 11). FOUR O'CLOCK.
A few words to the verbal information thou sentest me last night
concerning thy poor old man; and then I rise from my seat, shake
myself, refresh, new-dress, and so to my charmer, whom,
notwithstanding her reserves, I hope to prevail upon to walk out with
me on the Heath this warm and fine morning.
The birds must have awakened her before now. They are in full song.
She always gloried in accustoming herself to behold the sun rise--one
of God's natural wonders, as once she called it.
Her window salutes the east. The valleys must be gilded by his rays, by
the time I am with her; for already have they made the up-lands smile,
and the face of nature cheerful.
How unsuitable will thou find this gay preface to a subject so gloomy
as that I am now turning to!
I am glad to hear thy tedious expectations are at last answered.
Thy servant tells me that thou are plaguily grieved at the old fellow's
departure.
I can't say, but thou mayest look as if thou wert; harassed as