This was the strange speech he made at his entrance, his eyes flaming with anger; This prating girl, has struck you all dumb, I perceive. Persevere, however, Mr. Solmes. I have heard every word she has said: and I know of no other method of being even with her, than after she is yours, to make her as sensible of your power, as she now makes you of her insolence.
Fie, cousin Harlowe! said my aunt—Could I have thought a brother would have said this, to a gentleman, of a sister?
I must tell you, Madam, said he, that you give the rebel courage. You yourself seem to favour too much the arrogance of her sex in her; otherwise she durst not have thus stopped her uncle’s mouth by reflections upon him; as well as denied to hear a gentleman tell her the danger she is in from a libertine, whose protection, as she plainly hinted, she intends to claim against her family.
Stopped my uncle’s mouth, by reflections upon him, Sir! said I, how can that be! how dare you to make such an application as this!
My aunt wept at his reflection upon her.—Cousin, said she to him, if this be the thanks I have for my trouble, I have done: your father would not treat me thus—and I will say, that the hint you gave was an unbrotherly one.
Not more unbrotherly than all the rest of his conduct to me, of late, Madam, said I. I see by this specimen of his violence, how everybody has been brought into his measures. Had I any the least apprehension of ever being in Mr. Solmes’s power, this might have affected me. But you see, Sir, to Mr. Solmes, what a conduct is thought necessary to enable you to arrive at your ungenerous end. You see how my brother courts for you.
I disclaim Mr. Harlowe’s violence, Madam, with all my soul. I will never remind you—
Silence, worthy Sir, said I; I will take care you never shall have the opportunity.
Less violence, Clary, said my uncle. Cousin James, you are as much to blame as your sister.
In then came my sister. Brother, said she, you kept not your promise. You are thought to be to blame within, as well as here. Were not Mr. Solmes’s generosity and affection to the girl well known, what you said would have been inexcusable. My father desires to speak with you; and with you, Mr. Solmes, if you please.
They all four withdrew into the next apartment.
I stood silent, as not knowing presently how to take this intervention of my sister’s. But she left me not long at a loss—O thou perverse thing, said she (poking out her angry face at me, when they were all gone, but speaking spitefully low)—what trouble do you give to us all!
You and my brother, Bella, said I, give trouble to yourselves; yet neither you nor he have any business to concern yourselves about me.
She threw out some spiteful expressions, still in a low voice, as if she chose not to be heard without; and I thought it best to oblige her to raise her tone a little, if I could. If I could, did I say? It is easy to make a passionate spirit answer all one’s views upon it.
She accordingly flamed out in a raised tone: and this brought my cousin Dolly in to us. Miss Harlowe, your company is desired.
I will come presently, cousin Dolly.
But again provoking a severity from me which she could not bear, and calling me names! in once more come Dolly, with another message, that her company was desired.
Not mine, I doubt, Miss Dolly, said I.
The sweet-tempered girl burst out into tears, and shook her head.
Go in before me, child, said Bella, (vexed to see her concern for me), with thy sharp face like a new moon: What dost thou cry for? is it to make thy keen face look still keener?
I believe Bella was blamed, too, when she went in; for I heard her say, the creature was so provoking, there was no keeping a resolution.
Mr. Solmes, after a little while, came in again by himself, to take leave of me: full of scrapes and compliments; but too well tutored and encouraged, to give me hope of his declining his suit. He begged me not to impute to him any of the severe things to which he had been a sorrowful witness. He besought my compassion, as he called it.
He said, the result was, that he still had hopes given him; and, although discouraged by me, he was resolved to persevere, while I remained single.—And such long and such painful services he talked of, as never before were heard of.
I told him in the strongest manner, what he had to trust to.
Yet still he determined to persist.—While I was no man’s else, he must hope.
What! said I, will you still persist, when I declare, as I do now, that my affections are engaged?—And let my brother make the most of it.
He knew my principles, and adored me for them. He doubted not, that it was in his power to make me happy: and he was sure I would not want the will to be so.
I assured him, that were I to be carried to my uncle’s, it should answer no end; for I would never see him; nor receive a line from him; nor hear a word in his favour, whoever were the person who should mention him to me.
He was sorry for it. He must be miserable, were I to hold in that mind.
