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

that moment, in a manner, deprived them of all motion, and turned their speech into sighs and groans!⁠—How to be pitied, how greatly to be pitied! all of them! But how much to be cursed that abhorred Lovelace, who, as it seems, by arts uncommon, and a villany without example, has been the sole author of a woe so complicated and extensive!⁠—God judge me, as⁠—But I stop⁠—the man (the man can I say?) is your friend!⁠—He already suffers, you tell me, in his intellect.⁠—Restore him, Heaven, to that⁠—If I find the matter come out, as I apprehend it will⁠—indeed her own hint of his usage of her, as in her will, is enough⁠—nor think, my beloved cousin, thou darling of my heart! that thy gentle spirit, breathing charity and forgiveness to the vilest of men, shall avail him!⁠—But once more I stop⁠—forgive me, Sir!⁠—Who could behold such a scene, who could recollect it in order to describe it, (as minutely as you wished me to relate how this unhappy family were affected on this sad occasion), every one of the mourners nearly related to himself, and not to be exasperated against the author of all?

As I was the only person (grieved as I was myself) from whom any of them, at that instant, could derive comfort; Let us not, said I, my dear Cousin, approaching the inconsolable mother, give way to a grief, which, however just, can now avail us nothing. We hurt ourselves, and cannot recall the dear creature for whom we mourn. Nor would you wish it, if you know with what assurance of eternal happiness she left the world⁠—She is happy, Madam!⁠—depend upon it, she is happy! And comfort yourselves with that assurance!

O Cousin, Cousin! cried the unhappy mother, withdrawing her hand from that of her sister Hervey, and pressing mine with it, you know not what a child I have lost!⁠—Then in a low voice, and how lost!⁠—That it is that makes the loss insupportable.

They all joined in a kind of melancholy chorus, and each accused him and herself, and some of them one another. But the eyes of all, in turn, were cast upon my cousin James, as the person who had kept up the general resentment against so sweet a creature. While he was hardly able to bear his own remorse: nor Miss Harlowe hers; she breaking out into words, How tauntingly did I write to her! How barbarously did I insult her! Yet how patiently did she take it!⁠—Who would have thought that she had been so near her end!⁠—O Brother, Brother! but for you!⁠—But for you!⁠—Double not upon me, said he, my own woes! I have everything before me that has passed! I thought only to reclaim a dear creature that had erred! I intended not to break her tender heart! But it was the villanous Lovelace who did that⁠—not any of us!⁠—Yet, Cousin, did she not attribute all to me?⁠—I fear she did!⁠—Tell me only, did she name me, did she speak of me, in her last hours? I hope she, who could forgive the greatest villain on earth, and plead that he may be safe from our vengeance, I hope she could forgive me.

She died blessing you all; and justified rather than condemned your severity to her.

Then they set up another general lamentation. We see, said her father, enough we see, in her heart-piercing letters to us, what a happy frame she was in a few days before her death⁠—But did it hold to the last? Had she no repinings? Had the dear child no heart burnings?

None at all!⁠—I never saw, and never shall see, so blessed a departure: and no wonder; for I never heard of such a preparation. Every hour, for weeks together, were taken up in it. Let this be our comfort: we need only to wish for so happy an end for ourselves, and for those who are nearest to our hearts. We may any of us be grieved for acts of unkindness to her: but had all happened that once she wished for, she could not have made a happier, perhaps not so happy an end.

Dear soul! and Dear sweet soul! the father, uncles, sister, my cousin Hervey, cried out all at once, in accents of anguish inexpressibly affecting.

We must forever be disturbed for those acts of unkindness to so sweet a child, cried the unhappy mother!⁠—Indeed! indeed! (softly to her sister Hervey), I have been too passive, much too passive in this case!⁠—The temporary quiet I have been so studious all my life to preserve, has cost me everlasting disquiet!⁠—There she stopped.

Dear Sister! was all Mrs. Hervey could say.

I have done but half my duty to the dearest and most meritorious of children, resumed the sorrowing mother!⁠—Nay, not half!⁠—How have we hardened our hearts against her!⁠—Again her tears denied passage to her words.

My dearest, dearest Sister!⁠—again was all Mrs. Hervey could say.

Would to Heaven, proceeded, exclaiming, the poor mother, I had but once seen her! Then, turning to my cousin James, and his sister⁠—O my son! O my Arabella! if we were to receive as little mercy⁠—And there again she stopped, her tears interrupting her farther speech; everyone, all the time, remaining silent; their countenances showing a grief in their hearts too big for expression.

Now you see, Mr. Belford, that my dearest cousin could be allowed all her merit!⁠—What a dreadful thing is after-reflection upon a conduct so perverse and unnatural?

O this cursed friend of yours, Mr. Belford! This detested Lovelace!⁠—To him, to him is owing⁠—

Pardon me, Sir. I will lay down my pen till I have recovered my temper.

One in the Morning.

In vain, Sir, have I endeavoured to compose myself to rest. You wished me to be very particular, and I cannot help it. This melancholy subject fills my whole mind. I will proceed, though it be midnight.

About six o’clock the hearse came to the outward gate⁠—the parish church is at some distance; but the wind setting fair, the afflicted family were struck, just before it