Clarissa, Volume 6 | Page 9

be so, if you had not taken pains to convince me of the inferiority of your's.
How great, how sublimely great, this creature!--By my soul I cannot forgive her for her virtues! There is no bearing the consciousness of the infinite inferiority she charged me with.--But why will she break from me, when good resolutions are taking place? The red-hot iron she refuses to strike--O why will she suffer the yielding wax to harden?
We had gone but a few paces towards the house, when we were met by the impertinent women, with notice, that breakfast was ready. I could only, with uplifted hands, beseech her to give me hope of a renewed conversation after breakfast.
No--she would go to church.
And into the house she went, and up stairs directly. Nor would she oblige me with her company at the tea-table.
I offered, by Mrs. Moore, to quit both the table and the parlour, rather than she should exclude herself, or deprive the two widows of the favour of her company.
That was not all the matter, she told Mrs. Moore. She had been struggling to keep down her temper. It had cost her some pains to do it. She was desirous to compose herself, in hopes to receive benefit by the divine worship she was going to join in.
Mrs. Moore hoped for her presence at dinner.
She had rather be excused. Yet, if she could obtain the frame of mind she hoped for, she might not be averse to show, that she had got above those sensibilities, which gave consideration to a man who deserved not to be to her what he had been.
This said, no doubt, to let Mrs. Moore know, that the garden-conversation had not been a reconciling one.
Mrs. Moore seemed to wonder that we were not upon a better foot of understanding, after so long a conference; and the more, as she believed that the lady had given in to the proposal for the repetition of the ceremony, which I had told them was insisted upon by her uncle Harlowe.-- But I accounted for this, by telling both widows that she was resolved to keep on the reserve till she heard from Captain Tomlinson, whether her uncle would be present in person at the solemnity, or would name that worthy gentleman for his proxy.
Again I enjoined strict secresy, as to this particular; which was promised by the widows, as well as for themselves, as for Miss Rawlins; of whose taciturnity they gave me such an account, as showed me, that she was secret-keeper-general to all the women of fashion at Hampstead.
The Lord, Jack! What a world of mischief, at this rate, must Miss Rawlins know!--What a Pandora's box must her bosom be!--Yet, had I nothing that was more worthy of my attention to regard, I would engage to open it, and make my uses of the discovery.
And now, Belford, thou perceivest, that all my reliance is upon the mediation of Lady Betty and Miss Montague, and upon the hope of intercepting Miss Howe's next letter.

LETTER IV
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
This fair inexorable is actually gone to church with Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Bevis; but Will. closely attends her motions; and I am in the way to receive any occasional intelligence from him.
She did not choose, [a mighty word with the sex! as if they were always to have their own wills!] that I should wait upon her. I did not much press it, that she might not apprehend that I thought I had reason to doubt her voluntary return.
I once had it in my head to have found the widow Bevis other employment. And I believe she would have been as well pleased with my company as to go to church; for she seemed irresolute when I told her that two out of a family were enough to go to church for one day. But having her things on, (as the women call every thing,) and her aunt Moore expecting her company, she thought it best to go--lest it should look oddly, you know, whispered she, to one who was above regarding how it looked.
So here am I in my dining-room; and have nothing to do but to write till they return.
And what will be my subject thinkest thou? Why, the old beaten one to be sure; self-debate--through temporary remorse: for the blow being not struck, her guardian angel is redoubling his efforts to save her.
If it be not that, [and yet what power should her guardian angel have over me?] I don't know what it is that gives a check to my revenge, whenever I meditate treason against so sovereign a virtue. Conscience is dead and gone, as I told thee; so it cannot be that. A young conscience growing up, like the phoenix, from the ashes of the old