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

the door.⁠—We will all go to town together, said she, and return together. Morrison shall stay here, and see everything as I am used to have it, in relation to my apartment, and my bed; for I am very particular in some respects. My cousin Leeson’s servants can do all I want to be done with regard to my nightdresses, and the like. And it will be a little airing for you, my dear, and a want of your apparel to be sent from your former lodgings to Mrs. Leeson’s; and we can bring it up with us from thence.

I had no intention to comply. But as I did not imagine that she would insist upon my going to town with them, I made no answer to that part of her speech.

I must here lay down my tired pen!

Recollection! heart-affecting recollection! how it pains me!

Letter 314 Miss Clarissa Harlowe, to Miss Howe

In the midst of this agreeableness, the coach came to the door. The pretended Lady Betty besought me to give them my company to their cousin Leeson’s. I desired to be excused: yet suspected nothing. She would not be denied. How happy would a visit so condescending make her cousin Leeson!⁠—Her cousin Leeson was not unworthy of my acquaintance: and would take it for the greatest favour in the world.

I objected my dress. But the objection was not admitted. She bespoke a supper of Mrs. Moore to be ready at nine.

Mr. Lovelace, vile hypocrite, and wicked deceiver! seeing, as he said, my dislike to go, desired his Ladyship not to insist upon it.

Fondness for my company was pleaded. She begged me to oblige her: made a motion to help me to my fan herself: and, in short, was so very urgent, that my feet complied against my speech and my mind: and being, in a manner, led to the coach by her, and made to step in first, she followed me: and her pretended niece, and the wretch, followed her: and away it drove.

Nothing but the height of affectionate complaisance passed all the way: over and over, what a joy would this unexpected visit give her cousin Leeson! What a pleasure must it be to such a mind as mine, to be able to give so much joy to everybody I came near!

The cruel, the savage seducer (as I have since recollected) was in a rapture all the way; but yet such a sort of rapture, as he took visible pains to check.

Hateful villain! how I abhor him!⁠—What mischief must be then in his plotting heart!⁠—What a devoted victim must I be in all their eyes!

Though not pleased, I was nevertheless just then thoughtless of danger; they endeavouring thus to lift me up above all apprehensions of that, and above myself too.

But think, my dear, what a dreadful turn all had upon me, when, through several streets and ways I knew nothing of, the coach slackening its pace, came within sight of the dreadful house of the dreadfullest woman in the world; as she proved to me.

Lord be good unto me! cried the poor fool, looking out of the coach⁠—Mr. Lovelace!⁠—Madam! turning to the pretended Lady Betty!⁠—Madam! turning to the niece, my hands and eyes lifted up⁠—Lord be good unto me!

What! What! What! my dear.

He pulled the string⁠—What need to have come this way? said he⁠—But since we are, I will but ask a question⁠—My dearest life, why this apprehension?

The coachman stopped: his servant, who, with one of hers was behind, alighted⁠—Ask, said he, if I have any letters? Who knows, my dearest creature, turning to me, but we may already have one from the Captain?⁠—We will not go out of the coach!⁠—Fear nothing⁠—Why so apprehensive?⁠—Oh! these fine spirits!⁠—cried the execrable insulter.

Dreadfully did my heart then misgive me: I was ready to faint. Why this terror, my life? you shall not stir out of the coach but one question, now the fellow has drove us this way.

Your lady will faint, cried the execrable Lady Betty, turning to him⁠—My dearest Niece! (niece I will call you, taking my hand)⁠—we must alight, if you are so ill.⁠—Let us alight⁠—only for a glass of water and hartshorn⁠—indeed we must alight.

No, no, no⁠—I am well⁠—quite well⁠—Won’t the man drive on?⁠—I am well⁠—quite well⁠—indeed I am.⁠—Man, drive on, putting my head out of the coach⁠—Man, drive on!⁠—though my voice was too low to be heard.

The coach stopped at the door. How I trembled!

Dorcas came to the door, on its stopping.

My dearest creature, said the vile man, gasping, as it were for breath, you shall not alight⁠—Any letters for me, Dorcas?

There are two, Sir. And here is a gentleman, Mr. Belton, Sir, waits for your honour; and has done so above an hour.

I’ll just speak to him. Open the door⁠—You shan’t step out, my dear⁠—A letter perhaps from Captain already!⁠—You shan’t step out, my dear.

I sighed as if my heart would burst.

But we must step out, Nephew: your lady will faint. Maid, a glass of hartshorn and water!⁠—My dear you must step out⁠—You will faint, child⁠—We must cut your laces.⁠—(I believe my complexion was all manner of colours by turns)⁠—Indeed, you must step out, my dear.

He knew, said I, I should be well, the moment the coach drove from the door. I should not alight. By his soul, I should not.

Lord, Lord, Nephew, Lord, Lord, Cousin, both women in a breath, what ado you make about nothing! You persuade your lady to be afraid of alighting.⁠—See you not that she is just fainting?

Indeed, Madam, said the vile seducer, my dearest love must not be moved in this point against her will. I beg it may not be insisted upon.

Fiddle-faddle, foolish man⁠—What a pother is here! I guess how it is: you are ashamed to let us see what sort of people you carried your lady among⁠—but do you go out, and speak to your friend, and take your letters.

He stepped out; but shut the coach-door after him, to oblige me.

The coach may go on,