Clarissa, Volume 7 | Page 7

give me, that neither my will, nor my
inconsiderateness, has contributed to my calamity. But, nevertheless,
the irreconcilableness of my relations, whom I love with an unabated
reverence; my apprehensions of fresh violences, [this wicked man, I
doubt, will not let me rest]; my being destitute of protection; my youth,
my sex, my unacquaintedness with the world, subjecting me to insults;
my reflections on the scandal I have given, added to the sense of the
indignities I have received from a man, of whom I deserved not ill; all
together will undoubtedly bring on the effect that cannot be undesirable
to me.--The situation; and, as I presume to imagine, from principles
which I hope will, in due time, and by due reflection, set me above the
sense of all worldly disappointments.
At present, my head is much disordered. I have not indeed enjoyed it
with any degree of clearness, since the violence done to that, and to my
heart too, by the wicked arts of the abandoned creatures I was cast
among.
I must have more conflicts. At times I find myself not subdued enough
to my condition. I will welcome those conflicts as they come, as
probationary ones.--But yet my father's malediction--the temporary part
so strangely and so literally completed!--I cannot, however, think,
when my mind is strongest--But what is the story of Isaac, and Jacob,
and Esau, and of Rebekah's cheating the latter of the blessing designed
for him, (in favour of Jacob,) given us for in the 27th chapter of
Genesis? My father used, I remember, to enforce the doctrine deducible
from it, on his children, by many arguments. At least, therefore, he
must believe there is great weight in the curse he has announced; and
shall I not be solicitous to get it revoked, that he may not hereafter be
grieved, for my sake, that he did not revoke it?
All I will at present add, are my thanks to your mother for her
indulgence to us; due compliments to Mr. Hickman; and my request,
that you will believe me to be, to my last hour, and beyond it, if
possible, my beloved friend, and my dearer self (for what is now
myself!)
Your obliged and affectionate CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER III
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, JULY 7.

I have three of thy letters at once before me to answer; in each of which
thou complainest of my silence; and in one of them tallest me, that thou
canst not live without I scribble to thee every day, or every other day at
least.
Why, then, die, Jack, if thou wilt. What heart, thinkest thou, can I have
to write, when I have lost the only subject worth writing upon?
Help me again to my angel, to my CLARISSA; and thou shalt have a
letter from me, or writing at least part of a letter, every hour. All that
the charmer of my heart shall say, that will I put down. Every motion,
every air of her beloved person, every look, will I try to describe; and
when she is silent, I will endeavour to tell thee her thoughts, either
what they are, or what I would have them to be--so that, having her, I
shall never want a subject. Having lost her, my whole soul is a blank:
the whole creation round me, the elements above, beneath, and every
thing I behold, (for nothing can I enjoy,) are a blank without her.
Oh! return, return, thou only charmer of my soul! return to thy adoring
Lovelace! What is the light, what the air, what the town, what the
country, what's any thing, without thee? Light, air, joy, harmony, in my
notion, are but parts of thee; and could they be all expressed in one
word, that word would be CLARISSA.
O my beloved CLARISSA, return thou then; once more return to bless
thy LOVELACE, who now, by the loss of thee, knows the value of the
jewel he has slighted; and rises every morning but to curse the sun that
shines upon every body but him!
***
Well, but, Jack, 'tis a surprising thing to me, that the dear fugitive
cannot be met with; cannot be heard of. She is so poor a plotter, (for
plotting is not her talent,) that I am confident, had I been at liberty, I
should have found her out before now; although the different
emissaries I have employed about town, round the adjacent villages,
and in Miss Howe's vicinage, have hitherto failed of success. But my
Lord continues so weak and low-spirited, that there is no getting from
him. I would not disoblige a man whom I think in danger still: for
would his gout, now it has got him down, but give him, like a fair