What can I do? She says truly: conquest over her, by any but brutal means, is impossible—Shall I be brutal?—And more brutal even than my own ruffian agents?
She has magnanimity—But what have those cyphers of beings who call themselves her relations? Shall they mount the dunghill of their vanity, clap their wings, and exult, as if they too had conquered a Clifton? Even the villain Mac Fane would not fail to scout at me! Nay the very go-between, the convenient chamber-maid herself, forgetting the lightness of her own heels, would bless herself and claim her share in the miraculous virtue of the sex! What! Become the scoff of the tea-table, the bugbear of the bed-chamber, and the standing jest of the tavern?—I will return this instant, Fairfax, and put her boasted strength and courage to the proof—Madness!—I forget that nothing less than depriving her of sense can be effectual. She knows her strong hold: victory never yet was gained by man, singly, over woman, who was not willing to be vanquished.
I will not yield her up, Fairfax!—She never shall be Henley's!—Again and again she never shall!—I dared not meet him!—So she told me!—Ha!—Dare not?—I will still devise a means—I will have my revenge!—This vaunted Henley then shall know how much I dare!—I will conquer!—Should I be obliged to come like Jove to Semele, in flames, and should we both be reduced to ashes in the conflict, I will enjoy her!—Let one urn hold our dust; and when the fire has purified it of its angry and opposing particles, perhaps it may mingle in peace.
C. CLIFTON
LETTER CXX
Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax
London, Dover Street
It shall not be!—She shall not escape me thus!—I will not endure this insufferable, this contemptible recantation of my wrongs! Fear is beneath me, and what have I to hope? I have made misery certain! I have paid the price of destruction, and will hug it to my heart! I know how often I have prevaricated, and have loitered with revenge; but I have not lost the flame: it burns still, and never shall expire!
The night at Brompton, though a night of storms and evil augury, was heaven to the one I have just passed. Sleep and rest have forsaken me. 'Tis long since I closed my eyes; I know not indeed when; but last night I did not attempt it. I traversed my room, opened my windows, shut them again, listened to the discontented monotony of the watchman without hearing him, thought over my never-forgotten injuries, my vengeance, and all the desolation that is to follow, and having ended began again!
There were shrieks and cries of murder in the street, about midnight; and this was the only music by which I remember to have been roused. But it was momentary. My reveries returned, and scenes of horror rose, more swarming, dun, and ghastly!