not be sent me. But I will still hope. It is yet early days. When their passions subside, they will better consider of the matter, and especially as I have my ever dear and excellent mother for my friend in this request. O the sweet indulgence! How has my heart bled, and how does it still bleed for her!

You advise me not to depend upon a reconciliation. I do not, I cannot depend upon it. But, nevertheless, it is the wish next my heart. And as to this man, what can I do? You see that marriage is not absolutely in my own power, if I were inclined to prefer it to the trial which I think I ought to have principally in view to make for a reconciliation.

You say, he is proud and insolent-indeed he is. But can it be your opinion, that he intends to humble me down to the level of his mean pride?

And what mean you, my dear friend, when you say that I must throw off a little more of the veil? Indeed, I never knew that I wore one. Let me assure you, that if I see anything in Mr Lovelace that looks like a design to humble me, his insolence shall never make me discover a weakness unworthy of a person distinguished by your friendship; that is to say, unworthy either of my sex, or of my former self.

But I hope, as I am out of all other protection, that he is not capable of mean or low resentments. If he has had any extraordinary trouble on my account, may he not thank himself for it? He may, and lay it, if he pleases, to his character, which, as I have told him, gave at least a pretence to my brother against him. And then, did I ever make him any promises? Did I ever profess a love for him? Did I ever wish for the continuance of his address? Had not my brother's violence precipitated matters, would not my indifference to him in all likelihood (as I designed it should) have tired out his proud spirit, and made him set out for London, where he used chiefly to reside? And if he had, would there not have been an end of all his pretensions and hopes? For no encouragement had I given him, nor did I then correspond with him. Nor, believe me, should I have begun to do so-the fatal rencounter not having then happened, which drew me in afterwards for others' sakes, (fool that I was!) and not for my own. And can you think, or can he, that even this but temporarily-intended correspondence, which, by the way, my mothert connived at, would have ended thus, had I not been driven on one hand, and teazed on the other, to continue it, the occasion which had at first induced it continuing? What pretence then has he, were I to be absolutely in his power, to avenge himself on me for the faults of others, and through which I have suffered more than

See Vol. VI. Letter IV.

he?

It cannot, cannot be, that I should have cause to apprehend him to be so ungenerous, so bad a man.

You bid me not be concerned at the bickerings between your mother and you. Can I avoid concern, when those bickerings are on my account? That they are raised (instigated shall I say) by my uncle, and my other relations, surely must add to my concern.

But I must observe, perhaps too critically for the state my mind is in at present, that the very sentences you give from your mother, as so many imperatives, which you take amiss, are very severe reflections upon yourself. For instanceyou shall, I tell you, Nancy, implies that you had disputed her will-and so of the rest.

And further let me observe, with respect to what you say, that there cannot be the same reason for a prohibition of correspondence with me, as there was of mine with Mr Lovelace, that I thought as little of bad consequences from my correspondence with him at the time, as you can do from yours with me now. But, if obedience be a duty, the breach of it is a fault, however circumstances may differ. Surely there is no merit in setting up our own judgment against the judgments of our parents. And if it be punishable so to do, I have been severely punished; and that is what I warned you of from my own dear experience.

Yet, God forgive me! I advise thus against myself with very great reluctance; and, to say truth, have not strength of mind at present to decline it myself. But, if my occasion go not cff, I will take it into further consideration.

You give me very good advice in relation to this man, and I thank you for it. When you bid me be more upon the reserve with him in expressing my displeasure, perhaps I may try for it; but to palliate, as you call it, that, my dearest Miss Howe, cannot be done, by Your own

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER XX.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE.

You may believe, my dear Miss Howe, that the circumstances of the noise and outcry within the garden-door, on Monday last, gave me no small uneasiness, to think that I was in the hands of a man who could, by such vile premeditation, lay a snare to trick me out of myself, as I have so frequently called it.

Whenever he came in my sight, the thought of this gave me an indignation that made his presence disgustful to me; and the more, as I

+ Ibid.

fancied I beheld in his face a triumph which reproached my weakness on that account, although perhaps it was only the same vivacity and placidness that generally sit upon his fea

tures.

I was resolved to task him upon this subject, the first time I could have patience to enter upon it with him. For, besides that it piqued me excessively from the nature of the artifice, I expected shuffling and evasion, if he were guilty, that would have incensed me: and, if not confessedly guilty, such unsatisfactory declarations as still would have kept my mind doubtful and uneasy, and would, upon every new offence that he might give me, sharpen my disgust to him.

I have had the opportunity I waited for, and will lay before you the result.

He was making his court to my good opinion in very polite terms, and with great seriousness lamenting that he had lost it, declaring, that he knew not how he had deserved to do so, attributing to me an indifference to him that seem ed, to his infinite concern, hourly to increase. And he besought me to let him know my whole mind, that he might have an opportunity either to confess his faults and amend them, or clear his conduct to my satisfaction, and thereby entitle himself to a greater share of my confidence. I answered him with quickness. Then, Mr Lovelace, I will tell you one thing with a frankness, that is, perhaps, more suitable to my character than to yours, he hoped not, he said, which gives me a very bad opinion of you as a designing, artful man.

I am all attention, madam.

I never can think tolerably of you, while the noise and voice I heard at the garden-door, which put me into the terror you took so much advantage of, remains unaccounted for. Tell me fairly, tell me candidly, the whole of that circumstance, and of your dealings with that wicked Joseph Leman; and, according to your explicitness in this particular, I shall form a judgment of your future professions.

I will, without reserve, my dearest life, said he, tell you the whole, and hope that my sincerity in the relation will atone for anything you may think wrong in the fact.

"I knew nothing, said he, of this man, this Leman, and should have scorned a resort to so low a method as bribing the servant of any family to let me into the secrets of that family, if I had not detected him in attempting to corrupt a servant of mine, to inform him of all my motions, of all my supposed intrigues, and, in short, of every action of my private life, as well as of my circumstances and engagements, and this for motives too obvious to be dwelt upon. "My servant told me of his offers, and I or

dered him, unknown to the fellow, to let me hear a conversation that was to pass between them.

"In the midst of it, and just as he had made an offer of money for a particular piece of intelligence, promising more when procured, I broke in upon them, and by bluster, calling for a knife to cut off his ears (one of which I took hold of,) in order to make a present of it, as I said, to his employers, I obliged him to tell me who they were.

"Your brother, madam, and your uncle Antony, he named.

"It was not difficult, when I had given him my pardon on naming them, (after I had set before him the enormity of the task he had undertaken, and the honourableness of my intentions to your dear self,) to prevail upon him, by a larger reward, to serve me, since, at the same time, he might preserve the favour of your uncle and brother, as I desired to know nothing but what related to myself and to you, in order to guard us both against the effects of an illwill which all his fellow-servants, as well as himself, as he acknowledged, thought undeserved.

"By this means, I own to you, madam, I frequently turned his principals upon a pivot of my own, unknown to themselves; and the fellow, who is always calling himself a plain man, and boasting of his conscience, was the easier, as I condescended frequently to assure him of my honourable views, and as he knew that the use I made of his intelligence, in all likelihood, prevented fatal mischiefs.

"I was the more pleased with his services, as (let me acknowledge to you, madam) they procured to you, unknown to yourself, a safe and uninterrupted egress (which perhaps would not otherwise have been continued to you so long as it was) to the garden and wood-house; for he undertook to them to watch all your motions, and the more cheerfully (for the fellow loves you) as it kept off the curiosity of others."*

So, my dear, it comes out, that I myself was obliged to this deep contriver.

I sat in silent astonishment; and thus he went on:

"As to the circumstance for which you think so hardly of me, I do freely confess, that having a suspicion that you would revoke your inten-, tion of getting away, and in that case apprehending that we should not have the time together that was necessary for that purpose, I had ordered him to keep off everybody he could keep off, and to be himself within view of the garden-door, for I was determined, if possible, to induce you to adhere to resolution." your

But pray, sir, interrupting him, how came you to apprehend that I should revoke my in

tention? I had indeed deposited a letter to that purpose, but you had it not: and how, as I had reserved to myself the privilege of a revocation, did you know, but I might have prevailed upon my friends, and so have revoked upon good grounds?

I will be very ingenuous, madam-you had made me hope, that if you changed your mind, you would give me a meeting to apprize me of the reasons for it. I went to the loose bricks, and I saw the letter there, and as I knew your friends were immovably fixed in their schemes, I doubted not but the letter was to revoke or suspend your resolution, and probably to serve instead of a meeting, too. I therefore let it lie, that if you did revoke, you might be under the necessity of meeting me for the sake of the expectation you had given me; and as I came prepared, I was resolved, pardon me, madam, whatever were your intentions, that you should not go back. Had I taken your letter, I must have been determined by the contents of it, for the present at least; but not having received it, and you having reason to think I wanted not resolution in a situation so desperate, to make your friends a personal visit, I depended upon the interview you had bid me hope for.

Wicked wretch, said I, it is my grief that I gave you opportunity to take so exact a measure of my weakness! But would you have presumed to visit the family, had I not met you?

Indeed I would. I had some friends in readiness, who were to have accompanied me to them. And had your father refused to give me audience, I would have taken my friends with me to Solmes.

And what did you intend to do to Mr Solmes? Not the least hurt, had the man been passive.

But had he not been passive, as you call it, what would you have done to Mr Solmes? He was loath, he said, to tell me—yet not the least hurt to his person.

I repeated my question.

If he must tell me, he only proposed to carry off the poor fellow, and to hide him for a month or two. And this he would have done, let what would have been the consequence.

Was ever such a wretch heard of!-I sighed from the bottom of my heart; but bid him proceed from the part I had interrupted him at.

"I ordered the fellow, as I told you, madam," said he, "to keep within view of the gardendoor; and if he found any parley between us, and anybody coming (before you could retreat undiscovered) whose coming might be attended with violent effects, he should cry out; and this not only in order to save himself from their suspicions of him, but to give me warning to make

off, and, if possible, to induce you (I own it, madam) to go off with me, according to your own appointment. And I hope, all circumstances considered, and the danger I was in of losing you for ever, that the acknowledgment of that contrivance, or if you had not met me, that upon Solmes, will not procure me your hatred ; for, had they come as I expected, as well as you, what a despicable wretch had I been, could I have left you to the insults of a brother and others of your family, whose mercy was cruelty, when they had not the pretence with which this detected interview would have furnished them!" What a wretch! said I. But if, sir, taking your own account of this strange matter to be fact, anybody were coming, how happened it, that I saw only that man Leman (I thought it was he) out at the door, and at a distance look after us?

Very lucky! said he, putting his hand first in one pocket, then in another-I hope I have not thrown it away-it is, perhaps, in the coat I had on yesterday-little did I think it would be necessary to be produced-but I love to come to a demonstration whenever I can-I may be giddy

I may be heedless. I am indeed-but no man, as to you, madam, ever had a sincerer heart.

He then, stepping to the parlour-door, called his servant to bring him the coat he had on yesterday.

The servant did, and in the pocket, rumpled up as a paper he regarded not, he pulled out a letter, written by that Joseph, dated Monday night, in which "he begs pardon for crying out so soon-says, that his fears of being discovered to act on both sides, had made him take the rushing of a little dog (that always follows him) through the phyllirea-hedge, for Betty's being at hand, or some of his masters; and that when he found his mistake, he opened the door by his own key, (which the contriving wretch confessed he had furnished him with) and inconsiderately ran out in a hurry, to have apprized him that his crying out was owing to his fright only;" and he added, "that they were upon the hunt for me, by the time he returned."

I shook my head-Deep! deep! deep! said I, at the best!-O, Mr Lovelace! God forgive and reform you!-But you are, I see plainly, (upon the whole of your own account,) a very artful, a very designing man.

Love, my dearest life, is ingenious. Night and day have I racked my stupid brain [O, sir, thought I, not stupid! 'Twere well, perhaps, if it were to contrive methods to prevent the sacrifice designed to be made of you, and the mischief that must have ensued upon it; so little hold in your affections; such undeserved antipathy from your friends; so much danger of

losing you for ever from both causes. I have not had for the whole fortnight, before last Monday, half an hour's rest at a time. And I own to you, madam, that I should never have forgiven myself, had I omitted any contrivance or forethought that would have prevented your return without me.

Again I blamed myself for meeting him, and justly; for there were many chances to one that I had not met him. And if I had not, all his fortnight's contrivances, as to me, would have come to nothing; and perhaps I might, nevertheless, have escaped Solmes.

Yet, had he resolved to come to HarlowePlace with his friends, and been insulted, as he certainly would have been, what mischiefs might have followed!

But his resolutions to run away with, and to hide the poor Solmes for a month or so, O, my dear! what a wretch have I let run away with me, instead of Solmes!

I asked him if he thought such enormities as these, such defiances of the laws of society, would have passed unpunished?

He had the assurance to say, with one of his usual gay airs, that he should by this means have disappointed his enemies, and saved me from a forced marriage. He had no pleasure in such desperate pushes. Solmes he would not have personally hurt. He must have fled his country, for a time at least; and, truly, if he had been obliged to do so, (as all his hopes of my favour must have been at an end,) he would have had a fellow-traveller of his own sex out of our family, whom I little thought of.

Was ever such a wretch!-To be sure, he meant my brother!

And such, sir, said I, in high resentment, are the uses you make of your corrupt intelligencer

My corrupt intelligencer, madam! interrupted he, He is to this hour your brother's as well as mine. By what I have ingenuously told you, you may see who began this corruption. Let me assure you, madam, that there are many free things which I have been guilty of as reprisals, in which I would not have been the aggressor.

All that I shall further say on this head, Mr Lovelace, is this: that as this vile double-faced wretch has probably been the cause of great mischief on both sides, and still continues, as you own, his wicked practices, I think it would be but just to have my friends apprized what a creature he is whom some of them encourage.

What you please, madam, as to that-my service, as well as your brother's, is now almost over for him. The fellow has made a good hand of it. He does not intend to stay long in his place. He is now actually in treaty for an inn, which will do his business for life. I can tell you further, that he makes love to your sister's Betty, and that by my advice. They will be married when he is established. An innkeeper's wife is

every man's mistress; and I have a scheme in my head to set some engines at work, to make her repent her saucy behaviour to you to the last day of her life.

What a wicked schemer are you, sir !—Who shall avenge upon you the still greater evils which you have been guilty of? I forgive Betty with all my heart. She was not my servant ; and but too probably, in what she did, obeyed the commands of her to whom she owed duty, better than I obeyed those to whom I owed more.

No matter for that, the wretch said. [To be sure, my dear, he must design to make me afraid of him. The decree was gone out-Betty must smart-smart, too, by an act of her own choice. He loved, he said, to make bad people their own punishers.-Nay, madam, excuse me; but if the fellow, if this Joseph, in your opinion, deserves punishment, mine is a complicated scheme; a man and his wife cannot well suffer separately, and it may come home to him too.

I had no patience with him. I told him so. I see, sir, said I, I see what a man I am with. Your rattle warns me of the snake.-And away I flung, leaving him seemingly vexed, and in confusion.

LETTER XXI.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE.

My plain-dealing with Mr Lovelace, on seeing him again, and the free dislike I expressed to his ways, his manners, and his contrivances, as well as to his speeches, have obliged him to recollect himself a little. He will have it, that the menaces which he threw out just now against my brother and Mr Solmes, are only the effect of an unmeaning pleasantry. He has too great a stake in his country, he says, to be guilty of such enterprizes as should lay him under a necessity of quitting it for ever. Twenty things, particularly, he says, he has suffered Joseph Leman to tell of him, that were not, and could not be true, in order to make himself formidable in some people's eyes, and this purely with a view to prevent mischief. He is unhappy, as far as he knows, in a quick invention; in hitting readily upon expedients; and many things are reported of him which he never said, and many which he never did, and others which he has only talked of, (as just now,) and which he has forgot as soon as the words have passed his lips.

This may be so in part, my dear. No one man so young could be so wicked as he has been reported to be. But such a man, at the head of such wretches as he is said to have at his beck, all men of fortune and fearlessness, and capable of such enterprizes as I have unhappily found him capable of, what is not to be apprehended from him!

His carelessness about his character is one of his excuses-a very bad one. What hope can a