<h2> LETTER XXVI </h2>
<h3> MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY MORN., MARCH 9. </h3>
<p>I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace, although I had not answered his
former.</p>
<p>This man, somehow or other, knows every thing that passes in our family.
My confinement; Hanna's dismission; and more of the resentments and
resolutions of my father, uncles, and brother, than I can possibly know,
and almost as soon as the things happen, which he tells me of. He cannot
come at these intelligencies fairly.</p>
<p>He is excessively uneasy upon what he hears; and his expressions, both of
love to me, and resentment to them, are very fervent. He solicits me, 'To
engage my honour to him never to have Mr. Solmes.'</p>
<p>I think I may fairly promise him that I will not.</p>
<p>He begs, 'That I will not think he is endeavouring to make to himself a
merit at any man's expense, since he hopes to obtain my favour on the foot
of his own; nor that he seeks to intimidate me into a consideration for
him. But declares, that the treatment he meets with from my family is of
such a nature, that he is perpetually reproached for not resenting it; and
that as well by Lord M. and Lady Sarah, and Lady Betty, as by all his
other friends: and if he must have no hope from me, he cannot answer for
what his despair will make him do.'</p>
<p>Indeed, he says, 'his relations, the ladies particularly, advise him to
have recourse to a legal remedy: But how, he asks, can a man of honour go
to law for verbal abuses given by people entitled to wear swords?'</p>
<p>You see, my dear, that my mother seems as apprehensive of mischief as
myself; and has indirectly offered to let Shorey carry my answer to the
letter he sent me before.</p>
<p>He is full of the favours of the ladies of his family to me: to whom,
nevertheless, I am personally a stranger; except, that I once saw Miss
Patty Montague at Mrs. Knolly's.</p>
<p>It is natural, I believe, for a person to be the more desirous of making
new friends, in proportion as she loses the favour of old ones. Yet had I
rather appear amiable in the eyes of my own relations, and in your eyes,
than in those of all the world besides—but these four ladies of his
family have such excellent characters, that one cannot but wish to be
thought well of by them. Cannot there be a way to find out, by Mrs.
Fortescue's means, or by Mr. Hickman, who has some knowledge of Lord M.
[covertly, however,] what their opinions are of the present situation of
things in our family; and of the little likelihood there is, that ever the
alliance once approved of by them, can take effect?</p>
<p>I cannot, for my own part, think so well of myself, as to imagine, that
they can wish their kinsman to persevere in his views with regard to me,
through such contempts and discouragements.—Not that it would
concern me, should they advise him to the contrary. By my Lord's signing
Mr. Lovelace's former letter; by Mr. Lovelace's assurances of the
continued favour of all his relations; and by the report of others; I seem
still to stand high in their favour. But, methinks, I should be glad to
have this confirmed to me, as from themselves, by the lips of an
indifferent person; and the rather, because of their fortunes and family;
and take it amiss (as they have reason) to be included by ours in the
contempt thrown upon their kinsman.</p>
<p>Curiosity at present is all my motive: nor will there ever, I hope, be a
stronger, notwithstanding your questionable throbs—even were the
merits of Mr. Lovelace much greater than they are.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>I have answered his letters. If he takes me at my word, I shall need to be
less solicitous for the opinions of his relations in my favour: and yet
one would be glad to be well thought of by the worthy.</p>
<p>This is the substance of my letter:</p>
<p>'I express my surprise at his knowing (and so early) all that passes
here.'</p>
<p>I assure him, 'That were there not such a man in the world as himself, I
would not have Mr. Solmes.'</p>
<p>I tell him, 'That to return, as I understand he does, defiances for
defiances, to my relations, is far from being a proof with me, either of
his politeness, or of the consideration he pretends to have for me.</p>
<p>'That the moment I hear he visits any of my friends without their consent,
I will make a resolution never to see him more, if I can help it.'</p>
<p>I apprize him, 'That I am connived at in sending this letter (although no
one has seen the contents) provided it shall be the last I will ever write
to him: that I had more than once told him, that the single life was my
choice; and this before Mr. Solmes was introduced as a visitor in our
family: that Mr. Wyerley, and other gentlemen, knew it to be my choice,
before himself was acquainted with any of us: that I had never been
induced to receive a line from him on the subject, but that I thought he
had not acted ungenerously by my brother; and yet had not been so
handsomely treated by my friends, as he might have expected: but that had
he even my friends on his side, I should have very great objections to
him, were I to get over my choice of a single life, so really preferable
to me as it is; and that I should have declared as much to him, had I not
regarded him as more than a common visiter. On all these accounts, I
desire, that the one more letter, which I will allow him to deposit in the
usual place, may be the very last; and that only, to acquaint me with his
acquiescence that it shall be so; at least till happier times.'</p>
<p>This last I put in that he may not be quite desperate. But, if he take me
at my word, I shall be rid of one of my tormentors.</p>
<p>I have promised to lay before you all his letters, and my answers: I
repeat that promise: and am the less solicitous, for that reason, to
amplify upon the contents of either. But I cannot too often express my
vexation, to be driven to such streights and difficulties, here at home,
as oblige me to answer letters, (from a man I had not absolutely intended
to encourage, and to whom I had really great objections,) filled as his
are with such warm protestations, and written to me with a spirit of
expectation.</p>
<p>For, my dear, you never knew so bold a supposer. As commentators find
beauties in an author, to which the author perhaps was a stranger; so he
sometimes compliments me in high strains of gratitude for favours, and for
a consideration, which I never designed him; insomuch that I am frequently
under a necessity of explaining away the attributed goodness to him,
which, if I shewed, I should have the less opinion of myself.</p>
<p>In short, my dear, like a restiff horse, (as I have heard described by
sportsmen,) he pains one's hands, and half disjoints one's arms, to rein
him in. And, when you see his letters, you must form no judgment upon
them, till you have read my answers. If you do, you will indeed think you
have cause to attribute self-deceit, and throbs, and glows, to your
friend: and yet, at other times, the contradictory nature complains, that
I shew him as little favour, and my friends as much inveteracy, as if, in
the rencontre betwixt my brother and him, he had been the aggressor; and
as if the catastrophe had been as fatal, as it might have been.</p>
<p>If he has a design by this conduct (sometimes complaining of my shyness,
at others exalting in my imaginary favours) to induce me at one time to
acquiesce with his compliments; at another to be more complaisant for his
complaints; and if the contradiction be not the effect of his inattention
and giddiness; I shall think him as deep and as artful (too probably, as
practised) a creature, as ever lived; and were I to be sure of it, should
hate him, if possible, worse than I do Solmes.</p>
<p>But enough for the present of a creature so very various.</p>
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