And so, my dear, I am sure had you.

And now for the most concerning part of your letter.

You think I must of necessity be Mr Solmes’s wife, as matters are circumstanced. I will not be very rash, my dear, in protesting to the contrary. But I think it never, never can, nor ought to be! My temper, I know, is depended upon; but I have heretofore said that I have something in me of my father’s family, as well as of my mother’s. And have I any encouragement to follow too implicitly the example which my mamma sets of meekness and resignedness to the wills of others? Is she not for ever obliged to be, as she was pleased to hint to me, of the forbearing side? In my mamma’s case, your observation is verified, that those who will bear much shall have much to bear. What is it, as she says, that she has not sacrificed to peace? Yet, has she by her sacrifices always found the peace she has deserved to find? Indeed No! I am afraid the very contrary.

I have said that I never can be, that I never ought to be, Mrs Solmes. I repeat, that I ought not; for surely, my dear, I should not give up to my brother’s ambition the happiness of my future life. Surely I ought not to be the instrument to deprive Mr Solmes’s relations of their natural rights and reversionary prospects, for the sake of further aggrandizing a family (although that I am of) which already lives in great affluence and splendour; and who might be as justly dissatisfied were what some of them aim at to be obtained, that they were not princes, as now they are that they are not peers (for when ever was an ambitious mind, as you observe in the case of avarice, satisfied by acquisition?). The less, surely, ought I to give into these grasping views of my brother, as I myself heartily despise the end aimed at; as I wish not either to change my state, or better my fortunes; and as I am fully persuaded that happiness and riches are two things, and very seldom meet together.

So, my dear, were we perfect, which no one can be, we could not be happy in this life, unless those with whom we have to deal (those, more especially, who have any control upon us) were governed by the same principles. What have we then to do but, as I have hinted above, to choose right, and pursue it steadily, and leave the issue to Providence?

•   •   •

I am stopped. Hannah shall deposit this. She was ordered by my mamma, who asked where I was, to tell me that she would come up and talk with me in my own closet. She is coming! Adieu, my dear.

Letter 20: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

Sat. p.m.

The expected conference is over; but my difficulties are increased. This, as my mamma was pleased to tell me, being the last persuasory effort that will be attempted, I will be as particular in the account of it as my head and my heart will allow me to be.

I have made, said she, as she entered my room, a short as well as early dinner, on purpose to confer with you. And I do assure you, that it will be the last conference I shall either be permitted or inclined to hold with you on the subject, if you should prove as refractory as some, whom I hope you’ll disappoint, imagine you will; and thereby demonstrate that I have not the weight with you that my indulgence to you deserves.

Who at the long run must submit—all of us to you; or you to all of us?

I wept. I knew not what to say; or rather how to express what I had to say.

Take notice that there are flaws in your grandfather’s will; not a shilling of that estate will be yours, if you do not yield. Your grandfather left it to you as a reward of your duty to him and to us. You will justly forfeit it, if—

Permit me, good madam, to say that, if it were unjustly bequeathed me, I ought not to wish to have it. But I hope Mr Solmes will be apprised of these flaws.

This was very pertly said, she was pleased to tell me; but bid me reflect, that the forfeiture of that estate, through my opposition, would be attended with the total loss of my papa’s favour; and then how destitute I must be; how unable to support myself; and how many benevolent designs and good actions must I give up!

I must accommodate myself, I said, in the latter case, to my circumstances.

What perverseness! said my mamma. But if you depend upon the favour of either or both your uncles, vain will be that dependence. They will give you up, I do assure you, if your papa does, and absolutely renounce you.

I told her, I was sorry that I had had so little merit as to have made no deeper impressions of favour for me in their hearts; but that I would love and honour them as long as I lived.

All this, she was pleased to say, made my prepossession in a certain man’s favour the more evident. Indeed my brother and sister could not go anywhither, but they heard of these prepossessions.

I received her rebukes in silence.

You are sullen, Clarissa! I see you are sullen! And she walked about the room in anger. Then turning to me. You can bear the imputation, I see! You have no concern to clear yourself of it. I was afraid of telling you all I was enjoined to tell you in case you were to be unpersuadeable. But I find that I had a greater opinion of your delicacy and gentleness than I needed to have. It cannot discompose so steady, so inflexible a young creature, to be told that the [marriage] settlements are actually drawn; and that you will be called down, in a very few days, to hear them read, and to sign them; for it is impossible, if your heart be free, that you can make the least objection to them, except that they are so much in your favour and in all our favour be one.

I was speechless, absolutely speechless; although my heart was ready to burst, yet could I neither weep nor speak.

She folded the warm statue, as she was pleased to call me, in her arms; and entreated me, for God’s sake, and for her sake, to comply.

I would, madam, said I, folding my hands with an earnestness that my whole heart was engaged in, bear the cruellest tortures, bear loss of limb, and even of life, to give you peace. But this man, every moment I would at your command think of him with favour, is the more my aversion. You cannot, indeed you cannot, think, how my whole soul resists him!

I then, half-frantically I believe, laid hold of her gown.