LETTER LXXIII
MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.FRIDAY NIGHT, AUG. 4.
I have actually delivered to the lady the extracts she requested me togive her from your letters. I do assure you that I have made the verybest of the matter for you, not that conscience, but that friendship,could oblige me to make. I have changed or omitted some free words. Thewarm description of her person in the fire-scene, as I may call it, Ihave omitted. I have told her, that I have done justice to you, in thejustice you have done to her by her unexampled virtue. But take the verywords which I wrote to her immediately following the extracts:
'And now, Madam,'--See the paragraph marked with an inverted comma[thus '], Letter LXX. of this volume.
The lady is extremely uneasy at the thoughts of your attempting to visither. For Heaven's sake, (your word being given,) and for pity's sake,(for she is really in a very weak and languishing way,) let me beg of younot to think of it.
Yesterday afternoon she received a cruel letter (as Mrs. Lovick supposesit to be, by the effect it had upon her) from her sister, in answer toone written last Saturday, entreating a blessing and forgiveness from herparents.
She acknowledges, that if the same decency and justice are observed inall of your letters, as in the extracts I have obliged her with, (as Ihave assured her they are,) she shall think herself freed from thenecessity of writing her own story: and this is an advantage to theewhich thou oughtest to thank me for.
But what thinkest thou is the second request she had to make to me? noother than that I would be her executor!--Her motives will appear beforethee in proper time; and then, I dare to answer, will be satisfactory.
You cannot imagine how proud I am of this trust. I am afraid I shall toosoon come into the execution of it. As she is always writing, what amelancholy pleasure will be the perusal and disposition of her papersafford me! such a sweetness of temper, so much patience and resignation,as she seems to be mistress of; yet writing of and in the midst ofpresent distresses! how much more lively and affecting, for that reason,must her style be; her mind tortured by the pangs of uncertainty, (theevents then hidden in the womb of fate,) than the dry, narrative,unanimated style of persons, relating difficulties and dangerssurmounted; the relater perfectly at ease; and if himself unmoved by hisown story, not likely greatly to affect the reader!
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SATURDAY MORNING, AUG. 5.
I am just returned from visiting the lady, and thanking her in person forthe honour she has done me; and assuring her, if called to the sacredtrust, of the utmost fidelity and exactness.
I found her very ill. I took notice of it. She said, she had received asecond hard-hearted letter from her sister; and she had been writing aletter (and that on her knees) directly to her mother; which, before, shehad not had the courage to do. It was for a last blessing andforgiveness. No wonder, she said, that I saw her affected. Now that Ihad accepted of the last charitable office for her, (for which, as wellas for complying with her other request, she thanked me,) I should oneday have all these letters before me: and could she have a kind one inreturn to that she had been now writing, to counterbalance the unkind oneshe had from her sister, she might be induced to show me both together--otherwise, for her sister's sake, it were no matter how few saw the poorBella's letter.
I knew she would be displeased if I had censured the cruelty of herrelations: I therefore only said, that surely she must have enemies, whohoped to find their account in keeping up the resentments of her friendsagainst her.
It may be so, Mr. Belford, said she: the unhappy never want enemies. Onefault, wilfully committed, authorizes the imputation of many more. Wherethe ear is opened to accusations, accusers will not be wanting; and everyone will officiously come with stories against a disgraced child, wherenothing dare be said in her favour. I should have been wise in time, andnot have needed to be convinced, by my own misfortunes, of the truth ofwhat common experience daily demonstrates. Mr. Lovelace's baseness, myfather's inflexibility, my sister's reproaches, are the naturalconsequences of my own rashness; so I must make the best of my hard lot.Only, as these consequences follow one another so closely, while they arenew, how can I help being anew affected?
I asked, if a letter written by myself, by her doctor or apothecary, toany of her friends, representing her low state of health, and greathumility, would be acceptable? or if a journey to any of them would be ofservice, I would gladly undertake it in person, and strictly conform toher orders, to whomsoever she should direct me to apply.
She earnestly desired that nothing of this sort might be attempted,especially without her knowledge and consent. Miss Howe, she said, haddone harm by her kindly-intended zeal; and if there were room to expectfavour by mediation, she had ready at hand a kind friend, Mrs. Norton,who for piety and prudence had few equals; and who would let slip noopportunity to endeavour to do her service.
I let her know that I was going out of town till Monday: she wished mepleasure; and said she should be glad to see me on my return.
Adieu!