But from these last conferences am I furnished with one argument in defence of my favourite purpose, which I never yet pleaded.

O Jack! what a difficulty must a man be allowed to have to conquer a predominant passion, be it what it will, when the gratifying of it is in his power, however wrong he knows it to be to resolve to gratify it!  Reflect upon this; and then wilt thou be able to account for, if not to excuse, a projected crime, which has habit to plead for it, in a breast as stormy as uncontroulable!

This that follows is my new argument—­

Should she fail in the trial; should I succeed; and should she refuse to go on with me; and even resolve not to marry me (of which I can have no notion); and should she disdain to be obliged to me for the handsome provision I should be proud to make for her, even to the half of my estate; yet cannot she be altogether unhappy—­Is she not entitled to an independent fortune?  Will not Col.  Morden, as her trustee, put her in possession of it?  And did she not in our former conference point out the way of life, that she always preferred to the married life—­to wit, ’To take her good Norton for her directress and guide, and to live upon her own estate in the manner her grandfather desired she should live?’*

* See Letter III. of this volume.

It is moreover to be considered that she cannot, according to her own notions, recover above one half of her fame, were we not to intermarry; so much does she think she has suffered by her going off with me.  And will she not be always repining and mourning for the loss of the other half?—­And if she must live a life of such uneasiness and regret for half, may she not as well repine and mourn for the whole?

Nor, let me tell thee, will her own scheme or penitence, in this case, be half so perfect, if she do not fall, as if she does:  for what a foolish penitent will she make, who has nothing to repent of!—­She piques herself, thou knowest, and makes it matter of reproach to me, that she went not off with me by her own consent; but was tricked out of herself.

Nor upbraid thou me upon the meditated breach of vows so repeatedly made.  She will not, thou seest, permit me to fulfil them.  And if she would, this I have to say, that, at the time I made the most solemn of them, I was fully determined to keep them.  But what prince thinks himself obliged any longer to observe the articles of treaties, the most sacredly sworn to, than suits with his interest or inclination; although the consequence of the infraction must be, as he knows, the destruction of thousands.

Is not this then the result of all, that Miss Clarissa Harlowe, if it be not her own fault, may be as virtuous after she has lost her honour, as it is called, as she was before?  She may be a more eminent example to her sex; and if she yield (a little yield) in the trial, may be a completer penitent.  Nor can she, but by her own wilfulness, be reduced to low fortunes.