Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady Volume II Part 33

How can I consent to see him again, when yesterday's interview was interpreted by you, Madam, as well as by every other, as an encouragement to him? when I myself declared, that if I saw him a second time by my own consent, it might be so taken? and when I am determined never to encourage him?

You might spare your reflections upon me, Miss. I have no thanks either from one side or the other.

And away she flung.

Dearest Madam! said I, following her to the door--

But she would not hear me further; and her sudden breaking from me occasioned a hurry to some mean listener; as the slipping of a foot from the landing-place on the stairs discovered to me.

I had scarcely recovered myself from this attack, when up came Betty--Miss, said she, your company is desired below-stairs in your own parlour.

By whom, Betty?

How can I tell, Miss?--perhaps by your sister, perhaps by your brother--I know they wont' come up stairs to your apartment again.

Is Mr. Solmes gone, Betty?

I believe he is, Miss--Would you have him sent for back? said the bold creature.

Down I went: and to whom should I be sent for, but to my brother and Mr.

Solmes! the latter standing sneaking behind the door, so that I saw him not, till I was mockingly led by the hand into the room by my brother.

And then I started as if I had beheld a ghost.

You are to sit down, Clary.

And what then, Brother?

Why then, you are to put off that scornful look, and hear what Mr.

Solmes has to say to you.

Sent down for to be baited again, thought I!

Madam, said Mr. Solmes, as if in haste to speak, lest he should not have an opportunity given him, [and indeed he judged right,] Mr. Lovelace is a declared marriage hater, and has a design upon your honour, if ever--

Base accuser! said I, in a pa.s.sion, s.n.a.t.c.hing my hand from my brother, who was insolently motioning to give it to Mr. Solmes; he has not!--he dares not!--But you have, if endeavouring to force a free mind be to dishonour it!

O thou violent creature! said my brother--but not gone yet--for I was rus.h.i.+ng away.

What mean you, Sir, [struggling vehemently to get away,] to detain me thus against my will?

You shall not go, Violence; clasping his unbrotherly arms about me.

Then let not Mr. Solmes stay.--Why hold you me thus? he shall not for your own sake, if I can help it, see how barbarously a brother can treat a sister who deserves not evil treatment.

And I struggled so vehemently to get from him, that he was forced to quit my hand; which he did with these words--Begone then, Fury!--how strong is will!--there is no holding her.

And up I flew to my chamber, and locked myself in, trembling and out of breath.

In less than a quarter of an hour, up came Betty. I let her in upon her tapping, and asking (half out of breath too) for admittance.

The Lord have mercy upon us! said she.--What a confusion of a house is this! [hurrying up and down, fanning herself with her handkerchief,]

Such angry masters and mistresses!--such an obstinate young lady!--such a humble lover!--such enraged uncles!--such--O dear!--dear! what a topsy-turvy house is this!--And all for what, trow?--only because a young lady may be happy, and will not?--only because a young lady will have a husband, and will not have a husband? What hurlyburlies are here, where all used to be peace and quietness!

Thus she ran on to herself; while I sat as patiently as I could (being a.s.sured that her errand was not designed to be a welcome one to me) to observe when her soliloquy would end.

At last, turning to me--I must do as I am bid. I can't help it--don't be angry with me, Miss. But I must carry down your pen and ink: and that this moment.

By whose order?

By your papa's and mamma's.

How shall I know that?

She offered to go to my closet: I stept in before her: touch it, if you dare.

Up came my cousin Dolly--Madam!--Madam! said the poor weeping, good natured creature, in broken sentences--you must--indeed you must--deliver to Betty--or to me--your pen and ink.

Must I, my sweet Cousin? then I will to you; but not to this bold body.

And so I gave my standish to her.

I am sorry, very sorry, said she, Miss, to be the messenger: but your papa will not have you in the same house with him: he is resolved you shall be carried away to-morrow, or Sat.u.r.day at farthest. And therefore your pen and ink are taken away, that you may give n.o.body notice of it.

And away went the dear girl, very sorrowful, carrying down with her my standish, and all its furniture, and a little parcel of pens beside, which having been seen when the great search was made, she was bid to ask for.

As it happened, I had not diminished it, having hid half a dozen crow quills in as many different places. It was lucky; for I doubt not they had numbered how many were in the parcel.

Betty ran on, telling me, that my mother was now as much incensed against me as any body--that my doom was fixed--that my violent behaviour had not left one to plead for me--that Mr. Solmes bit his lip, and muttered, and seemed to have more in his head, than could come out at his mouth; that was her phrase.

And yet she also hinted to me, that the cruel wretch took pleasure in seeing me; although so much to my disgust--and so wanted to see me again.--Must he not be a savage, my dear?

The wench went on--that my uncle Harlowe said, That now he gave me up--that he pitied Mr. Solmes--yet hoped he would not think of this to my detriment hereafter: that my uncle Antony was of opinion, that I ought to smart for it: and, for her part--and then, as one of the family, she gave her opinion of the same side.

As I have no other way of hearing any thing that is said or intended below, I bear sometimes more patiently than I otherwise should do with her impertinence. And indeed she seems to be in all my brother's and sister's counsels.

Miss Hervey came up again, and demanded an half-pint ink-bottle which they had seen in my closet.

I gave it her without hesitation.

If they have no suspicion of my being able to write, they will perhaps let me stay longer than otherwise they would.

This, my dear, is now my situation.

All my dependence, all my hopes, are in your mother's favour. But for that, I know not what I might do: For who can tell what will come next?

LETTER x.x.xVI