'Hear me but out, dearest Madam!—My heart is full—I must speak what I have to say—To be told (for your words are yet in my ears, and at my heart!) that you would give the world, and all your hopes in it, to have been still in your cruel and gloomy father's house'—
Not a word, Sir, against my father!—I will not bear that—
'Whatever had been your usage:—and you have a credulity, Madam, against all probability, if you believe you should have avoided being Solmes's wife: That I have put you upon sacrificing your duty and conscience—yet, dearest creature! see you not the contradiction that your warmth of temper has surprised you into, when the reluctance you shewed to the last to leave your persecutors, has cleared your conscience from the least reproach of this sort?'—
O Sir! Sir! are you so critical then? Are you so light in your anger as to dwell upon words?—
Indeed, my dear, I have since thought that his anger was not owing to that sudden impetus, which cannot be easily bridled; but rather was a sort of manageable anger let loose to intimidate me.
'Forgive me, Madam—I have just done—Have I not, in your opinion, hazarded my life to redeem you from oppression? Yet is not my reward, after all, precarious?—For, Madam, have you not conditioned with me (and, hard as the condition is, most sacredly will I observe it) that all my hope must be remote? That you are determined to have it in your power to favour or reject me totally, as you please?'
See, my dear! in every respect my condition changed for the worse! Is it in my power to take your advice, if I should think it ever so right to take it?*
* Clarissa had been censured as behaving to Mr. Lovelace, in their first
conversation at St. Alban's, and afterwards, with too much reserve, and
even with haughtiness. Surely those, who have thought her to blame on
this account, have not paid a due attention to the story. How early, as
above, and in what immediately follows, does he remind her of the terms
of distance which she had prescribed to him, before she was in his
power, in hopes to leave the door open for a reconciliation with
her friends, which her heart was set upon? And how artfully does he
(unrequired) promise to observe the conditions in which she in her
present circumstances and situation (in pursuance of Miss Howe's advice)
would gladly have dispensed with?—To say nothing of the resentment she
was under a necessity to shew, at the manner of his getting her away, in
order to justify to him the sincerity of her refusal to go off with him.
See, in her subsequent Letter to Miss Howe, No. IX., her own sense upon
the subject.
'And have you not furthermore declared,' proceeded he 'that you will engage to renounce me for ever, if your friends insist upon that cruel renunciation, as the terms of being reconciled to you?
'But nevertheless, Madam, all the merit of having saved you from an odious compulsion, shall be mine. I glory in it, though I were to lose you for ever. As I see I am but too likely to do, from your present displeasure; and especially, if your friends insist upon the terms you are ready to comply with.