Clarissa Harlowe Samuel Richardson (most important books to read TXT) 📖

induced, some by motives of compassion, others by persuasion of friends, to change their minds; and had been very happy afterwards: and he hoped this might be the case here.

I have no notion, Sir, of compliment, in an article of such importance as this: yet I am sorry to be obliged to speak my mind so plainly as I am going to do.⁠—Know then, that I have invincible objections, Sir, to your address. I have avowed them with an earnestness that I believe is without example: and why?⁠—because I believe it is without example that any young creature, circumstanced as I am, was ever treated as I have been treated on your account.

It is hoped, Madam, that your consent may in time be obtained⁠—that is the hope; and I shall be a miserable man if it cannot.

Better, Sir, give me leave to say, you were miserable by yourself, than that you should make two so.

You may have heard, Madam, things to my disadvantage. No man is without enemies. Be pleased to let me know what you have heard, and I will either own my faults, and amend; or I will convince you that I am basely bespattered: and once I understand you overheard something that I should say, that gave you offence: unguardedly, perhaps; but nothing but what showed my value, and that I would persist so long as I have hope.

I have indeed heard many things to your disadvantage:⁠—and I was far from being pleased with what I overheard fall from your lips: but as you were not anything to me, and never could be, it was not for me to be concerned about the one or the other.

I am sorry, Madam, to hear this. I am sure you should not tell me of my fault, that I would be unwilling to correct in myself.

Then, Sir, correct this fault⁠—do not wish to have a young creature compelled in the most material article of her life, for the sake of motives she despises; and in behalf of a person she cannot value: one that has, in her own right, sufficient to set her above all your offers, and a spirit that craves no more than what it has, to make itself easy and happy.

I don’t see, Madam, how you would be happy, if I were to discontinue my address: for⁠—

That is nothing to you, Sir, interrupted I: do you but withdraw your pretensions: and if it will be thought fit to start up another man for my punishment, the blame will not lie at your door. You will be entitled to my thanks, and most heartily will I thank you.

He paused, and seemed a little at a loss: and I was going to give him still stronger and more personal instances of my plain-dealing; when in came my uncle Antony.

So, Niece, so!⁠—sitting in state like a queen, giving audience! haughty audience!⁠—Mr. Solmes, why stand you thus humbly?⁠—Why this distance, man? I hope to see you upon a more intimate footing before we part.

I arose, as soon as he entered⁠—and approached him with a bent knee: Let me, Sir, reverence my uncle, whom I have not for so long time seen!⁠—Let me, Sir, bespeak your favour and compassion.

You will have the favour of everybody, Niece, when you know how to deserve it.

If ever I deserved it, I deserve it now.⁠—I have been hardly used!⁠—I have made proposals that ought to be accepted, and such as would not have been asked of me. What have I done, that I must be banished and confined thus disgracefully? that I must not be allowed to have any free-will in an article that concerns my present and future happiness?⁠—

Miss Clary, replied my uncle, you have had your will in everything till now; and this makes your parents’ will sit so heavy upon you.

My will, Sir! be pleased to allow me to ask, what was my will till now, but my father’s will, and yours and my uncle Harlowe’s will?⁠—Has it not been my pride to obey and oblige?⁠—I never asked a favour, that I did not first sit down and consider, if it were fit to be granted. And now, to show my obedience, have I not offered to live single?⁠—Have I not offered to divest myself of my grandfather’s bounty, and to cast myself upon my father’s! and that to be withdrawn, whenever I disoblige him? Why, dear, good Sir, am I to be made unhappy in a point so concerning my happiness?

Your grandfather’s estate is not wished from you. You are not desired to live a single life. You know our motives, and we guess at yours. And, let me tell you, well as we love you, we should much sooner choose to follow you to the grave, than that yours should take place.

I will engage never to marry any man, without my father’s consent, and yours, Sir, and everybody’s. Did I ever give you cause to doubt my word?⁠—And here I will take the solemnest oath that can be offered me⁠—

That is the matrimonial one, interrupted he, with a big voice⁠—and to this gentleman.⁠—It shall, it shall, cousin Clary!⁠—And the more you oppose it, the worse it shall be for you.

This, and before the man, who seemed to assume courage upon it, highly provoked me.

Then, Sir, you shall sooner follow me to the grave indeed.⁠—I will undergo the cruelest death⁠—I will even consent to enter into that awful vault of my ancestors, and have that bricked up upon me, rather than consent to be miserable for life. And, Mr. Solmes, turning to him, take notice of what I say: This or any death, I will sooner undergo (that will quickly be over) than be yours, and forever unhappy!

My uncle was in a terrible rage upon this. He took Mr. Solmes by the hand, shocked as the man seemed to be, and drew him to the window⁠—Don’t be surprised, Mr. Solmes, don’t be concerned at this. We know, and rapt out a sad oath, what women will