And now, Sir, what is the result of all?—It is this—that you will endeavour, if you have that influence over him which a man of your sense and experience ought to have, to prevail upon him, and that for his own sake, as well as for mine, to leave me free, to pursue my own destiny. And of this you may assure him, that I will never be any other man's.
Impossible, Madam! I know that Mr. Lovelace would not hear me with patience on such a topic. And I do assure you that I have some spirit, and should not care to take an indignity from him or from any man living.
She paused—then resuming—and think you, Sir, that my uncle will refuse to receive a letter from me? [How averse, Jack, to concede a tittle in my favour!]
I know, Madam, as matters are circumstanced, that he would not answer it. If you please I will carry one down from you.
And will he not pursue his intentions in my favour, nor be himself reconciled to me, except I am married?
From what your brother gives out, and effects to believe, on Mr. Lovelace's living with you in the same—
No more, Sir—I am an unhappy creature!
He then re-urged, that it would be in her power instantly, or on the morrow, to put an end to all her difficulties.
How can that be? said she: the license still to be obtained? The settlements still to be signed? Miss Howe's answer to my last unreceived?—And shall I, Sir, be in such a HURRY, as if I thought my honour in danger if I delayed? Yet marry the man from whom only it can be endangered!—Unhappy, thrice unhappy Clarissa Harlowe!—In how many difficulties has one rash step involved thee!—And she turned from him and wept.
The varlet, by way of comfort, wept too: yet her tears, as he might have observed, were tears that indicated rather a yielding than a perverse temper.