Clarissa, Volume 7 | Page 9

a
heart as I a head. But canst thou suppose that this admirable woman is
not all, is not every thing with me? Yet I dread to think of her too; for
detection of all my contrivances, I doubt, must come next.
The old peer is also full of Miss Harlowe: and so are my cousins. He
hopes I will not be such a dog [there's a specimen of his peer-like

dialect] as to think of doing dishonourably by a woman of so much
merit, beauty, and fortune; and he says of so good a family. But I tell
him, that this is a string he must not touch: that it is a very tender point:
in short, is my sore place; and that I am afraid he would handle it too
roughly, were I to put myself in the power of so ungentle an operator.
He shakes his crazy head. He thinks all is not as it should be between
us; longs to have me present her to him as my wife; and often tells me
what great things he will do, additional to his former proposals; and
what presents he will make on the birth of the first child. But I hope the
whole of his estate will be in my hands before such an event takes place.
No harm in hoping, Jack! Lord M. says, were it not for hope, the heart
would break.
***
Eight o'clock at Midsummer, and these lazy varletesses (in full health)
not come down yet to breakfast!--What a confounded indecency in
young ladies, to let a rake know that they love their beds so dearly, and,
at the same time, where to have them! But I'll punish them--they shall
breakfast with their old uncle, and yawn at one another as if for a wager;
while I drive my phaëton to Colonel Ambroses's, who yesterday gave
me an invitation both to breakfast and dine, on account of two
Yorkshire nieces, celebrated toasts, who have been with him this
fortnight past; and who, he says, want to see me. So, Jack, all women
do not run away from me, thank Heaven!--I wish I could have leave of
my heart, since the dear fugitive is so ungrateful, to drive her out of it
with another beauty. But who can supplant her? Who can be admitted
to a place in it after Miss Clarissa Harlowe?
At my return, if I can find a subject, I will scribble on, to oblige thee.
My phaëton's ready. My cousins send me word they are just coming
down: so in spite I'll be gone.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON.
I did stay to dine with the Colonel, and his lady, and nieces: but I could
not pass the afternoon with them, for the heart of me. There was
enough in the persons and faces of the two young ladies to set me upon
comparisons. Particular features held my attention for a few moments:
but these served but to whet my impatience to find the charmer of my
soul; who, for person, for air, for mind, never had any equal. My heart
recoiled and sickened upon comparing minds and conversation. Pert

wit, a too-studied desire to please; each in high good humour with
herself; an open-mouth affectation in both, to show white teeth, as if
the principal excellence; and to invite amorous familiarity, by the
promise of a sweet breath; at the same time reflecting tacitly upon
breaths arrogantly implied to be less pure.
Once I could have borne them.
They seemed to be disappointed that I was so soon able to leave them.
Yet have I not at present so much vanity [my Clarissa has cured me of
my vanity] as to attribute their disappointment so much to particular
liking of me, as to their own self-admiration. They looked upon me as a
connoisseur in beauty. They would have been proud of engaging my
attention, as such: but so affected, so flimsy-witted, mere skin-deep
beauties!--They had looked no farther into themselves than what their
glasses were flattering-glasses too; for I thought them passive-faced,
and spiritless; with eyes, however, upon the hunt for conquests, and
bespeaking the attention of others, in order to countenance their own.
----I believe I could, with a little pains, have given them life and soul,
and to every feature of their faces sparkling information--but my
Clarissa!--O Belford, my Clarissa has made me eyeless and senseless to
every other beauty!--Do thou find her for me, as a subject worthy of my
pen, or this shall be the last from
Thy LOVELACE.

LETTER V
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY NIGHT,
JULY 9.
Now, Jack, have I a subject with a vengeance. I am in the very height
of my trial for all my sins to my beloved fugitive. For here