***
I am in the right train now. Every hour, I doubt
not, will give me an increasing interest in the affections
of this proud beauty. I have just carried unpoliteness
far enough to make her afraid of me; and to shew her,
that I am no whiner. Every instance of politeness,
now, will give me double credit with her. My
next point will be to make her acknowledge a lambent
flame, a preference of me to all other men, at least:
and then my happy hour is not far off. An acknowledged
reciprocality in love sanctifies every little freedom:
and little freedoms beget greater. And if she
call me ungenerous, I can call her cruel. The
sex love to be called cruel. Many a time have
I complained of cruelty, even in the act of yielding,
because I knew it gratified the fair one’s pride.
Mentioning that he had only hinted at Mr. Belford’s
lodgings as an
instance to confirm what he had
told her, that he knew of none in
London fit for her, he says,
I had a mind to alarm her with something furthest
from my purpose; for (as much as she disliked my motion)
I intend nothing by it: Mrs. Osgood is too pious
a woman; and would have been more her friend than mine.
I had a view, moreover, to give her an high opinion
of her own sagacity. I love, when I dig a put,
to have my prey tumble in with secure feet, and open
eyes: then a man can look down upon her, with
an O-ho, charmer, how came you there?
I have just now received a fresh piece of intelligence
from my agent, honest Joseph Leman. Thou knowest
the history of poor Miss Betterton of Nottingham.
James Harlowe is plotting to revive the resentments
of her family against me. The Harlowes took
great pains, some time ago, to endeavour to get to
the bottom of that story. But now the foolish
devils are resolved to do something in it, if they
can. My head is working to make this booby ’squire
a plotter, and a clever fellow, in order to turn his
plots to my advantage, supposing his sister shall aim
to keep me at arm’s length when in town, and
to send me from her. But I will, in proper time,
let thee see Joseph’s letter, and what I shall
answer to it.* To know in time a designed mischief,
is, with me, to disappoint it, and to turn it upon
the contriver’s head.
* See Letters XLVII., XLVIII. of this volume.
Joseph is plaguy squeamish again; but I know he only
intends by his qualms to swell his merits with me.
O Belford! Belford! what a vile corruptible
rogue, whether in poor or rich, is human nature!
Miss Howe, to miss Clarissa
Harlowe [in answer to letters
XXVIII.—XXXIV. Inclusive.] Tuesday,
April 18.
You have a most implacable family. Another visit
from your uncle Antony has not only confirmed my mother
an enemy to our correspondence, but has almost put
her upon treading in their steps.—
