All that you foresaw, my dear, is come to pass. Last night, about an hour after we got home, my father entered my mother's apartment, his eyes sparkling and his countenance inflamed with anger; in a word, so irritated as I never saw him before. I found immediately that he had either just left a quarrel, or was seeking occasion to begin one; and my guilty conscience made me tremble for the consequence.
He began by exclaiming violently, but in general terms, against such mothers as indiscreetly invite to their houses young fellows without family or fortune, whose acquaintance only brings shame and scandal on those who cultivate it. Finding this not sufficient to draw an answer from an intimidated woman, he brought up particularly, as an example, what had passed in our own house, since she had introduced a pretended wit, an empty chatterer, more fit to debauch the mind of a modest young woman than to instruct her in any thing that is good.
My mother, who now saw she should get little by holding her tongue, took him up at the word debauch, and asked what he had ever seen in the conduct, or knew of the character of the person he spoke of, to authorize such base suspicions. I did not conceive, she added, that genius and merit were to be excluded from society. To whom, pray, would you have your house open, if fine talents and good behaviour have no pretensions to admittance? To our equals, Madam, he replied in a fury; to such as might repair the honour of a daughter if they should injure it. No, sir, said she, but rather to people of virtue who cannot injure it. Know, Madam, that the presumption of soliciting an alliance with my family, without a title to that honour, is highly injurious. So far from thinking it injurious, returned my mother, I think it, on the contrary, the highest mark of esteem: but, I know not that the person you exclaim against has made any such pretensions. He has done it, Madam, and will do worse, if I do not take proper care to prevent him; but, for the future, I shall take upon myself the charge you have executed so ill.
On this began a dangerous altercation between them; by which I found they were both ignorant of those reports, which you say have been spread about the town. During this time your unworthy cousin could, nevertheless, have wished herself buried a hundred feet in the earth. Think of the best and most abused of mothers lavishing encomiums on her guilty daughter, and praising her for all those virtues she has lost, in the most respectful, or rather to me the most mortifying terms. Think of an angry father, profuse of injurious expressions; and yet in the height of his indignation, not letting one escape him in the least reflecting on the prudence of her, who, torn by remorse and humbled with shame, could hardly support his presence.
O the inconceivable torture of a bleeding heart, reproaching itself with unsuspected crimes! How depressing and insupportable is the burthen of unmerited praise, and of an esteem of which the heart is conscious it is unworthy! I was indeed so terribly oppressed, that, in order to free myself from so cruel a situation, I was just going, if the impetuosity of his temper would have given me time, to confess all. But he was so enraged as to repeat over and over a hundred times the same things, and to change the subject every moment. He took notice of my looks, cast down, and affrighted, in consequence of my remorse; and if he did not construe them into those of my guilt he did into looks of my love; but, to shame me the more, he abused the object of it in terms so odious and contemptible that, in spite of all my endeavours, I could not let him proceed without interruption. I know not whence my dear, I had so much courage, or how I came so far to trespass the bounds of modesty and duty: but, if I ventured to break for a moment that respectful silence they dictate, I suffered for it, as you will see, very severely. For Heaven's sake, my dear father, said I, be pacified: never could your daughter be in danger from a man deserving such abuse. I had scarce spoken, when, as if he had felt himself reproved by what I said, or that his passion wanted only a pretext for extremities, he flew upon your poor friend, and for the first time in my life I received from him a box on the ear: nor was this all but, giving himself up entirely to his passion, he proceeded to beat me without mercy, notwithstanding my mother threw herself in between us, to screen me from his blows, and, received many of those which were intended for me. At length, in running back to avoid them, my foot slipt, and I fell down with my face against the foot of a table.
Here ended the triumph of passion, and begun that of nature. My fall, the sight of my blood, my tears, and those of my mother greatly affected him. He raised me up with an air of affliction and solicitude; and, having placed me in a chair, they both eagerly enquired where I was hurt. I had received only a slight bruise on my forehead, and bled only at the nose. I saw nevertheless, by the alteration in the air and voice of my father, that he was displeased at what he had done. He was not, however, immediately reconciled to me; paternal authority did not permit so abrupt a change; but he apologized with many tender excuses to my mother; and I saw plainly, by the looks he cast on me, to whom half of his apologies were indirectly addressed. Surely, my dear, these is no confusion so affecting as that of a tender father, who thinks himself to blame in his treatment of a child.
Supper being ready, it was ordered to be put back that I might have time to compose myself; and my father, unwilling the servants should see any thing of my disorder, went himself for a glass of water; while my mother was bathing the contusion on my forehead. Ah, my dear how I pitied her! already in a very ill and languishing state of health, how gladly would she have been excused from being witness to such a scene! How little less did she stand in need of assistance than I!
At supper my father did not speak to me, but I could see his silence was the effect of shame, and not of disdain: he pretended to find every thing extremely good, in order to bid my mother help me to it; and, what touched me the most sensibly was, that he took all occasions to call me his daughter, and not Eloisa, as is customary with him.
After supper the evening was so cold that my mother ordered a fire in her chamber; she placing herself on one fire and my father on the other. I went to take a chair, to sit down in the middle; when, laying hold of my gown and drawing me gently to him, he placed me on his knee, without speaking a word. This was done so immediately, and by a sort of involuntarily impulse, that he seemed to be almost sorry for it a moment afterwards. But I was on his knee, and he could not well push me from him again, and, what added to his apparent condescension, he was obliged to support me with his arms in that attitude. All this passion in a kind of reluctant silence; but I perceived him, every now and then, ready to give me an involuntary embrace, which however he resisted, at the same time endeavouring to stifle a sigh, which came from the bottom of his heart. A certain false shame prevented his paternal arms from clasping me with that tenderness he too, plainly felt; a certain gravity, he was ashamed to depart from, a confusion he durst not overcome, occasioned between a father and his daughter the same charming embarrassment, as love and modesty cause between lovers; in the mean while a most affectionate mother, transported with pleasure, secretly enjoyed the delightful sight. I saw, I felt it all, and could no longer support a scene of such melting tenderness. I pretended to slip down; and, to save myself, threw my arm round my father's neck, laying my face close to his venerable cheek, which I pressed with repeated kisses and bathed with my tears. At the same time, by those which flowed plentifully from his eyes, I could perceive him greatly relieved; while my mother, embraced us both and partook of our transports. How sweet; how peaceful is innocence! which alone was wanting to make this the most delightful moment of my life.
This morning, lassitude and the pain I felt from my fall having kept me in bed later than usual, my father came into my chamber before I was up; when, asking kindly after my health, he sat down by the side of my bed; and, taking one of my hands into his, he condescended so far as to kiss it several times, calling me at the same time his dear daughter, and expressing his sorrow for his resentment. I told him I should think myself but too happy to suffer as much every day to have the pleasure he then gave me in return; and that the severest treatment I could receive from him would be fully recompensed, by the smallest instance of his kindness.
Then putting on a more serious air, he resumed the subject of yesterday, and signified his pleasure in civil but positive terms. You know, says he, the husband I designed for you: I intimated to you my intentions concerning him on my arrival, and shall never change them, on that head. As to the man whom Lord B—— spoke of, though I shall not dispute the merit every body allows him, I know not whether he has of himself conceived the ridiculous hopes of being allied to me, or if it has been instilled into him by others; but, be assured, that, had I even no other person in view, and he was in possession of all the guineas in England, I would never accept him for my son-in-law. I forbid you, therefore, either to see or speak to him as long as you live, and that as well for the sake of his honour as your own. I never indeed felt any great regard for him: but I now mortally hate him for the outrages he has been the occasion of my committing, and shall never forgive him the violence I have been guilty of.
Having said this, he rose and left me, without waiting for my answer, and with the same air of severity, which he had just reproached himself for assuming before. Ah, my dear cousin, what an infernal monster is prejudice, that depraves the best hearts, and puts the voice of nature every moment to silence!
Thus ended the explanation you predicted, and of which I could not comprehend the reason till your letter informed me. I cannot well tell what revolution it has occasioned in my mind; but I find myself ever since greatly altered. I seem to look back with more regret to that happy time, when I lived content and tranquil with my family friends around me; and that the sense of my error increases with that of the blessings of which it has deprived me. Tell me, my severe monitor, tell me if you dare be so cruel, are the joyful hours of love all gone and fled? And will they never more return? Do you perceive, alas, how gloomy and horrible is that sad apprehension? And yet my father's commands are positive; the danger of my lover is certain. Think, my dear Clara, on the result of such opposite emotions, destroying the effects of each other in my heart. A kind of stupidity has taken possession of me, which makes me almost insensible, and leaves me neither the use of my passions nor my reason. The present moment, you tell me, is critical; I know, I feel it is: and yet I was never more incapable to conduct myself than now. I have sat down more than twenty times to write to my lover: but I am ready to sink at every line. I have no resource, my dear friend, but in you. Let me prevail on you then to think, to speak, to act, for me. I put myself into your hands: whatever step you think proper to take, I hereby confirm before hand every thing you do; I commit to your friendship that sad authority over a lover which I have bought so dear. Divide me for ever from myself. Kill me, if I must die; but do not force me to plunge the dagger in my own breast. O my good angel! my protectress! what an employment do I engage you in! Can you have the courage to go through it? Can you find means to soften its severity? It is not my heart alone you will rend to pieces. You know, Clara, yes, you know, how sincerely I am beloved; that I have not even the consolation of being the most to be pitied. Let my heart, I beseech you, speak from your lips, and let yours sympathize with the tender compassion of love. Comfort the poor unfortunate youth, tell him, ah, tell him, again and again——do you not think so, my dear friend? Do you not think that, in spite of prepossessions and prejudice, in spite of all obstacles and crosses, Heaven has made us for each other? Yes, tell him so, I am sure of it, we are destined to be happy. It is impossible for me to lose sight of that prospect: it is impossible for me to give up that delightful hope. Tell him, therefore, not to be too much afflicted; not to give way to despair. You need not trouble yourself to exact a promise of eternal love and fidelity; and still less to make him a needless promise of mine. Is not the assurance of both firmly rooted in our hearts? Do we not feel that we are indivisible, and that we have but one mind between us? Tell him only to hope, and that though fortune persecutes us, he may place his confidence in love; which I am certain, my cousin, will in some way or other compensate for the evils it makes us suffer; as I am that, however heaven may dispose of us, we shall not live long from each other.
P.S. After I had written the above, I went into my mother's apartment, but found myself so ill that I was obliged to return, and lie down on the bed. I even perceived——alas, I am afraid——indeed, my dear, I am afraid, the fall I had last night will be of a much worse consequence than I imagined. If so, all is over with me; all my hopes are vanished at once.
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