Clarissa, Volume 6 - The History Of A Young Lady

Clarissa, Volume 6 - The History Of A Young Lady Clarissa, Volume 6 - The History Of A Young Lady

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Clarissa, Volume 6 − The History Of A Young Lady 66 I am cut to the heart, Madam, with invectives so violent. I am but too sensible of the wrong I have done you, or I could not bear your reproaches. The man who perpetrates a villany, and resolves to go on with it, shows not the compunction I show. Yet, if you think yourself in my power, I would caution you, Madam, not to make me desperate. For you shall be mine, or my life shall be the forfeit! Nor is life worth having without you!−− Be thine!−−I be thine!−−said the passionate beauty. O how lovely in her violence! Yes, Madam, be mine! I repeat you shall be mine! My very crime is your glory. My love, my admiration of you is increased by what has passed−− and so it ought. I am willing, Madam, to court your returning favour; but let me tell you, were the house beset by a thousand armed men, resolved to take you from me, they should not effect their purpose, while I had life. I never, never will be your's, said she, clasping her hands together, and lifting up her eyes!−−I never will be your's! We may yet see many happy years, Madam. All your friends may be reconciled to you. The treaty for that purpose is in greater forwardness than you imagine. You know better than to think the worse of yourself for suffering what you could not help. Enjoin but the terms I can make my peace with you upon, and I will instantly comply. Never, never, repeated she, will I be your's! Only forgive me, my dearest life, this one time!−−A virtue so invincible! what further view can I have against you?−−Have I attempted any further outrage?−−If you will be mine, your injuries will be injuries done to myself. You have too well guessed at the unnatural arts that have been used. But can a greater testimony be given of your virtue?−−And now I have only to hope, that although I cannot make you complete amends, yet you will permit me to make you all the amends that can possibly be made. Here [sic] me out, I beseech you, Madam; for she was going to speak with an aspect unpacifiedly angry: the God, whom you serve, requires but repentance and amendment. Imitate him, my dearest love, and bless me with the means of reforming a course of life that begins to be hateful to me. That was once your favourite point. Resume it, dearest creature, in charity to a soul, as well as body, which once, as I flattered myself, was more than indifferent to you, resume it. And let to−morrow's sun witness to our espousals. I cannot judge thee, said she; but the GOD to whom thou so boldly referrest can, and, assure thyself, He will. But, if compunction has really taken hold of thee−−if, indeed, thou art touched for thy ungrateful baseness, and meanest any thing by this pleading the holy example thou recommendest to my imitation; in this thy pretended repentant moment, let me sift thee thoroughly, and by thy answer I shall judge of the sincerity of thy pretended declarations. Tell me, then, is there any reality in the treaty thou has pretended to be on foot between my uncle and Capt. Tomlinson, and thyself?−−Say, and hesitate not, is there any truth in that story?−−But, remember, if there be not, and thou avowest that there is, what further condemnation attends to thy averment, if it be as solemn as I require it to be! This was a cursed thrust! What could I say!−−Surely this merciless lady is resolved to d−−n me, thought I, and yet accuses me of a design against her soul!−−But was I not obliged to proceed as I had begun? In short, I solemnly averred that there was!−−How one crime, as the good folks say, brings on another! I added, that the Captain had been in town, and would have waited on her, had she not been indisposed; that

Clarissa, Volume 6 − The History Of A Young Lady 67 he went down much afflicted, as well on her account, as on that of her uncle; though I had not acquainted him either with the nature of her disorder, or the ever−to−be−regretted occasion of it, having told him that it was a violent fever; That he had twice since, by her uncle's desire, sent up to inquire after her health; and that I had already dispatched a man and horse with a letter, to acquaint him, (and her uncle through him,) with her recovery; making it my earnest request, that he would renew his application to her uncle for the favour of his presence at the private celebrations of our nuptials; and that I expected an answer, if not this night, as to−morrow. Let me ask thee next, said she, (thou knowest the opinion I have of the women thou broughtest to me at Hampstead; and who have seduced me hither to my ruin; let me ask thee,) If, really and truly, they were Lady Betty Lawrance and thy cousin Montague?−−What sayest thou−−hesitate not−−what sayest thou to this question? Astonishing, my dear, that you should suspect them!−−But, knowing your strange opinion of them, what can I say to be believed? And is this the answer thou returnest me? Dost thou thus evade my question? But let me know, for I am trying thy sincerity now, and all shall judge of thy new professions by thy answer to this question; let me know, I repeat, whether those women be really Lady Betty Lawrance and thy cousin Montague? Let me, my dearest love, be enabled to−morrow to call you lawfully mine, and we will set out the next day, if you please, to Berkshire to my Lord M.'s, where they both are at this time; and you shall convince yourself by your own eyes, and by your own ears; which you will believe sooner than all I can say or swear. Now, Belford, I had really some apprehension of treachery from thee; which made me so miserably evade; for else, I could as safely have sworn to the truth of this, as to that of the former: but she pressing me still for a categorical answer, I ventured plumb; and swore to it, [lover's oaths, Jack!] that they were really and truly Lady Betty Lawrance and my cousin Montague. She lifted up her hands and eyes−−What can I think!−−what can I think! You think me a devil, Madam; a very devil! or you could not after you have put these questions to me, seem to doubt the truth of answers so solemnly sworn to. And if I do think thee so, have I not cause? Is there another man in the world, (I hope for the sake of human nature, there is not,) who could act by any poor friendless creature as thou hast acted by me, whom thou hast made friendless−−and who, before I knew thee, had for a friend every one who knew me? I told you, Madam, before that Lady Betty and my cousin were actually here, in order to take leave of you, before they set out for Berkshire: but the effects of my ungrateful crime, (such, with shame and remorse, I own it to be,) were the reason you could not see them. Nor could I be fond that they should see you; since they never would have forgiven me, had they known what had passed−−and what reason had I to expect your silence on the subject, had you been recovered? It signifies nothing now, that the cause of their appearance has been answered in my ruin, who or what they are: but if thou hast averred thus solemnly to two falsehoods, what a wretch do I see before me! I thought she had now reason to be satisfied; and I begged her to allow me to talk to her of to−morrow, as of the happiest day of my life. We have the license, Madam−−and you must excuse me, that I cannot let you go hence till I have tried every way I can to obtain your forgiveness. And am I then, [with a kind of frantic wildness,] to be detained a prisoner in this horrid house−−am I,

<strong>Clarissa</strong>, <strong>Volume</strong> 6 − <strong>The</strong> <strong>History</strong> <strong>Of</strong> A <strong>Young</strong> <strong>Lady</strong> 66<br />

I am cut to the heart, Madam, with invectives so violent. I am but too sensible of the wrong I have done you,<br />

or I could not bear your reproaches. <strong>The</strong> man who perpetrates a villany, and resolves to go on with it, shows<br />

not the compunction I show. Yet, if you think yourself in my power, I would caution you, Madam, not to<br />

make me desperate. For you shall be mine, or my life shall be the forfeit! Nor is life worth having without<br />

you!−−<br />

Be thine!−−I be thine!−−said the passionate beauty. O how lovely in her violence!<br />

Yes, Madam, be mine! I repeat you shall be mine! My very crime is your glory. My love, my admiration of<br />

you is increased by what has passed−− and so it ought. I am willing, Madam, to court your returning favour;<br />

but let me tell you, were the house beset by a thousand armed men, resolved to take you from me, they should<br />

not effect their purpose, while I had life.<br />

I never, never will be your's, said she, clasping her hands together, and lifting up her eyes!−−I never will be<br />

your's!<br />

We may yet see many happy years, Madam. All your friends may be reconciled to you. <strong>The</strong> treaty for that<br />

purpose is in greater forwardness than you imagine. You know better than to think the worse of yourself for<br />

suffering what you could not help. Enjoin but the terms I can make my peace with you upon, and I will<br />

instantly comply.<br />

Never, never, repeated she, will I be your's!<br />

Only forgive me, my dearest life, this one time!−−A virtue so invincible! what further view can I have against<br />

you?−−Have I attempted any further outrage?−−If you will be mine, your injuries will be injuries done to<br />

myself. You have too well guessed at the unnatural arts that have been used. But can a greater testimony be<br />

given of your virtue?−−And now I have only to hope, that although I cannot make you complete amends, yet<br />

you will permit me to make you all the amends that can possibly be made.<br />

Here [sic] me out, I beseech you, Madam; for she was going to speak with an aspect unpacifiedly angry: the<br />

God, whom you serve, requires but repentance and amendment. Imitate him, my dearest love, and bless me<br />

with the means of reforming a course of life that begins to be hateful to me. That was once your favourite<br />

point. Resume it, dearest creature, in charity to a soul, as well as body, which once, as I flattered myself, was<br />

more than indifferent to you, resume it. And let to−morrow's sun witness to our espousals.<br />

I cannot judge thee, said she; but the GOD to whom thou so boldly referrest can, and, assure thyself, He will.<br />

But, if compunction has really taken hold of thee−−if, indeed, thou art touched for thy ungrateful baseness,<br />

and meanest any thing by this pleading the holy example thou recommendest to my imitation; in this thy<br />

pretended repentant moment, let me sift thee thoroughly, and by thy answer I shall judge of the sincerity of<br />

thy pretended declarations.<br />

Tell me, then, is there any reality in the treaty thou has pretended to be on foot between my uncle and Capt.<br />

Tomlinson, and thyself?−−Say, and hesitate not, is there any truth in that story?−−But, remember, if there be<br />

not, and thou avowest that there is, what further condemnation attends to thy averment, if it be as solemn as I<br />

require it to be!<br />

This was a cursed thrust! What could I say!−−Surely this merciless lady is resolved to d−−n me, thought I,<br />

and yet accuses me of a design against her soul!−−But was I not obliged to proceed as I had begun?<br />

In short, I solemnly averred that there was!−−How one crime, as the good folks say, brings on another!<br />

I added, that the Captain had been in town, and would have waited on her, had she not been indisposed; that

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