Clarissa, Volume 6 | Page 8

such a passive sweetness of a
will-less mother, to produce a constancy, an equanimity, a steadiness,
in the daughter, which never woman before could boast of? If so, she is
more obliged to that despotic father than I could have imagined a
creature to be, who gave distinction to every one related to her beyond
what the crown itself can confer.
* See Vol. I. Letters IX. XIV. and XIX. for what she herself says on
that steadiness which Mr. Lovelace, though a deserved sufferer by it,
cannot help admiring.
I hoped, I said, that she would admit of the intended visit, which I had
so often mentioned, of the two ladies.
She was here. She had seen me. She could not help herself at present.
She even had the highest regard for the ladies of my family, because of
their worthy characters. There she turned away her sweet face, and
vanquished an half-risen sigh.

I kneeled to her then. It was upon a verdant cushion; for we were upon
the grass walk. I caught her hand. I besought her with an earnestness
that called up, as I could feel, my heart to my eyes, to make me, by her
forgiveness and example, more worthy of them, and of her own kind
and generous wishes. By my soul, Madam, said I, you stab me with
your goodness--your undeserved goodness! and I cannot bear it!
Why, why, thought I, as I did several times in this conversation, will
she not generously forgive me? Why will she make it necessary for me
to bring Lady Betty and my cousin to my assistance? Can the fortress
expect the same advantageous capitulation, which yields not to the
summons of a resistless conqueror, as if it gave not the trouble of
bringing up and raising its heavy artillery against it?
What sensibilities, said the divine creature, withdrawing her hand, must
thou have suppressed! What a dreadful, what a judicial hardness of
heart must thine be! who canst be capable of such emotions, as
sometimes thou hast shown; and of such sentiments, as sometimes have
flowed from thy lips; yet canst have so far overcome them all as to be
able to act as thou hast acted, and that from settled purpose and
premeditation; and this, as it is said, throughout the whole of thy life,
from infancy to this time!
I told her, that I had hoped, from the generous concern she had
expressed for me, when I was so suddenly and dangerously taken
ill--[the ipecacuanha experiment, Jack!]
She interrupted me--Well have you rewarded me for the concern you
speak of!--However, I will frankly own, now that I am determined to
think no more of you, that you might, (unsatisfied as I nevertheless was
with you,) have made an interest--
She paused. I besought her to proceed.
Do you suppose, Sir, and turned away her sweet face as we
walked,--Do you suppose that I had not thought of laying down a plan
to govern myself by, when I found myself so unhappily over-reached
and cheated, as I may say, out of myself--When I found, that I could
not be, and do, what I wished to be, and to do, do you imagine that I
had not cast about, what was the next proper course to take?--And do
you believe that this next course has not caused me some pain to be
obliged to--
There again she stopt.

But let us break off discourse, resumed she. The subject grows too--She
sighed--Let us break off discourse--I will go in--I will prepare for
church--[The devil! thought I.] Well, as I can appear in those
every-day-worn clothes--looking upon herself--I will go to church.
She then turned from me to go into the house.
Bless me, my beloved creature, bless me with the continuance of this
affecting conversation.--Remorse has seized my heart!--I have been
excessively wrong--give me farther cause to curse my heedless folly,
by the continuance of this calm but soul-penetrating conversation.
No, no, Mr. Lovelace: I have said too much. Impatience begins to break
in upon me. If you can excuse me to the ladies, it will be better for my
mind's sake, and for your credit's sake, that I do not see them. Call me
to them over-nice, petulant, prudish--what you please call me to them.
Nobody but Miss Howe, to whom, next to the Almighty, and my own
mother, I wish to stand acquitted of wilful error, shall know the whole
of what has passed. Be happy, as you may!--Deserve to be happy, and
happy you will be, in your own reflection at least, were you to be ever
so unhappy in other respects. For myself, if I ever shall be enabled, on
due reflection, to look back upon my own conduct, without the great
reproach of having