Volume II Part 13 (2/2)
Your fine new proposal is thought unworthy of a particular answer. Your uncle Harlowe is ashamed to be so taken in. Have you no new fetch for your uncle Antony? Go round with us, child, now your hand's in. But I was bid to write only one line, that you might not complain, as you did of your worthy sister, for the freedoms you provoked: It is this--Prepare yourself. To-morrow you go to my uncle Antony's. That's all, child.
JAMES HARLOWE.
I was vexed to the heart at this: and immediately, in the warmth of resentment, wrote the enclosed to my uncle Harlowe; who it seems stays here this night.
TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. MONDAY NIGHT.
HONOURED SIR,
I find I am a very sad creature, and did not know it. I wrote not to my brother. To you, Sir, I wrote. From you I hope the honour of an answer.
No one reveres her uncle more than I do. Nevertheless, between uncle and niece, excludes not such a hope: and I think I have not made a proposal that deserves to be treated with scorn.
Forgive me, Sir--my heart is full. Perhaps one day you may think you have been prevailed upon (for that is plainly the case!) to join to treat me--as I do not deserve to be treated. If you are ashamed, as my brother hints, of having expressed any returning tenderness to me, G.o.d help me! I see I have no mercy to expect from any body! But, Sir, from your pen let me have an answer; I humbly implore it of you. Till my brother can recollect what belongs to a sister, I will not take from him no answer to the letter I wrote to you, nor any commands whatever.
I move every body!--This, Sir, is what you are pleased to mention. But whom have I moved?--One person in the family has more moving ways than I have, or he could never so undeservedly have made every body ashamed to show tenderness to a poor distressed child of the same family.
Return me not this with contempt, or torn, or unanswered, I beseech you.
My father has a t.i.tle to do that or any thing by his child: but from no other person in the world of your s.e.x, Sir, ought a young creature of mine (while she preserves a supplicating spirit) to be so treated.
When what I have before written in the humblest strain has met with such strange constructions, I am afraid that this unguarded scrawl will be very ill received. But I beg, Sir, you will oblige me with one line, be it ever so harsh, in answer to my proposal. I still think it ought to be attended to. I will enter into the most solemn engagements to make it valid by a perpetual single life. In a word, any thing I can do, I will do, to be restored to all your favours. More I cannot say, but that I am, very undeservedly,
A most unhappy creature.
Betty scrupled again to carry this letter; and said, she should have anger; and I should have it returned in sc.r.a.ps and bits.
I must take that chance, said I: I only desire that you will deliver it as directed.
Sad doings! very sad! she said, that young ladies should so violently set themselves against their duty.
I told her, she should have the liberty to say what she pleased, so she would but be my messenger that one time: and down she went with it.
I bid her, if she could, slide it into my uncle's hand, unseen; at least unseen by my brother or sister, for fear it should meet, through their good office, with the fate she had bespoken for it.
She would not undertake for that, she said.
I am now in expectation of the result. But having so little ground to hope for their favour or mercy, I opened Mr. Lovelace's letter.
I would send it to you, my dear (as well as those I shall enclose) by this conveyance; but not being able at present to determine in what manner I shall answer it, I will give myself the trouble of abstracting it here, while I am waiting for what may offer from the letter just carried down.
'He laments, as usual, my ill opinion of him, and readiness to believe every thing to his disadvantage. He puts into plain English, as I supposed he would, my hint, that I might be happier, if, by any rashness he might be guilty of to Solmes, he should come to an untimely end himself.'
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