Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) 📕

I knew him; and he would then have less conceit of his abilities: which abilities would, in my opinion, be less thought of, if his power to do ill offices were not much greater than they.

I was vexed. I could not help making this reflection. The dupe the other, too probably, makes of him, through his own spy, deserved it. But I so little approve of this low art in either, that were I but tolerably used, the vileness of that man, that Joseph Leman, should be inquired into.

She was sorry, she said, to find that I thought so disparagingly of my brother. He was a young man both of learning and parts.

Learning enough, I said, to make him vain of it among us women: but not of parts sufficient to make his learning valuable either to himself or to anybody else.

She wished, indeed, that he had more good nature: but she feared that I had too great an opinion of somebody else, to think so well of my brother as a sister ought: since, between the two, there was a sort of rivalry, as to abilities, that made them hate one another.

Rivalry! Madam, said I.⁠—If that be the case, or whether it be or not, I wish they both understood, better than either of them seem to do, what it becomes gentlemen, and men of liberal education, to be, and to do.⁠—Neither of them, then, would glory in what they ought to be ashamed of.

But waving this subject, it was not impossible, I said, that they might find a little of my writing, and a pen or two, and a little ink, (hated art!⁠—or rather, hateful the necessity for it!) as I was not permitted to go up to put them out of the way: but if they did, I must be contented. And I assured her, that, take what time they pleased, I would not go in to disturb them, but would be either in or near the garden, in this summerhouse, or in the cedar one, or about my poultry-yard, or near the great cascade, till I was ordered to return to my prison. With like cunning I said, I supposed the unkind search would not be made till the servants had dined; because I doubted not that the pert Betty Barnes, who knew all the corners of my apartment and closet, would be employed in it.

She hoped, she said, that nothing could be found that would give a handle against me: for, she would assure me, the motives to the search, on my mother’s part especially, were, that she hoped to find reason rather to acquit than to blame me; and that my father might be induced to see my tomorrow night, or Wednesday morning, with temper: with tenderness, I should rather say, said she; for he is resolved to do so, if no new offence be given.

Ah! Madam, said I⁠—

Why that Ah! Madam, and shaking your head so significantly?

I wish, Madam, that I may not have more reason to dread my father’s continued displeasure, than to hope for his returning tenderness.

You don’t know, my dear!⁠—Things may take a turn⁠—things may not be so bad as you fear⁠—

Dearest Madam, have you any consolation to give me?⁠—

Why, my dear, it is possible, that you may be more compliable than you have been.

Why raised you my hopes, Madam?⁠—Don’t let me think my dear aunt Hervey cruel to a niece who truly honours her.

I may tell you more perhaps, said she (but in confidence, absolute confidence) if the inquiry within came out in your favour. Do you know of anything above that can be found to your disadvantage?⁠—

Some papers they will find, I doubt: but I must take consequences. My brother and sister will be at hand with their good-natured constructions. I am made desperate, and care not what is found.

I hope, I earnestly hope, that nothing can be found that will impeach your discretion; and then⁠—but I may say too much⁠—

And away she went, having added to my perplexity.

But I now can think of nothing but this interview.⁠—Would to Heaven it were over!⁠—To meet to quarrel⁠—but, let him take what measures he will, I will not stay a moment with him, if he be not quite calm and resigned.

Don’t you see how crooked some of my lines are? Don’t you see how some of the letters stagger more than others?⁠—That is when this interview is more in my head than in my subject.

But, after all, should I, ought I to meet him? How have I taken it for granted that I should!⁠—I wish there were time to take your advice. Yet you are so loth to speak quite out⁠—but that I owe, as you own, to the difficulty of my situation.

I should have mentioned, that in the course of this conversation I besought my aunt to stand my friend, and to put in a word for me on my approaching trial; and to endeavour to procure me time for consideration, if I could obtain nothing else.

She told me, that, after the ceremony was performed (odious confirmation of a hint in my cousin Dolly’s letter!) I should have what time I pleased to reconcile myself to my lot before cohabitation.

This put me out of all patience.

She requested of me in her turn, she said, that I would resolve to meet them all with cheerful duty, and with a spirit of absolute acquiescence. It was in my power to make them all happy. And how joyful would it be to her, she said, to see my father, my mother, my uncles, my brother, my sister, all embracing me with raptures, and folding me in turns to their fond hearts, and congratulating each other on their restored happiness! Her own joy, she said, would probably make her motionless and speechless for a time: and for her Dolly⁠—the poor girl, who had suffered in the esteem of some, for her grateful attachment to me, would have everybody love her again.

Will you doubt,