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Updated: June 1, 2025
Granger, there was a faint rustling of silk behind the portiere dividing Lady Laura's room from the next apartment; but Clarissa was too agitated to notice this. Laura Armstrong received her with effusion. "My dearest girl," she exclaimed, rising, and grasping both Clarissa's hands, as the man closed the door, "how glad I am to see you! Do you know, something told me you would come to me?
You will the less wonder at my being so very solemn, when, added to the above, and to my uncertain situation, I tell you, that they have sent me with these books a letter form my cousin Morden. It has set my heart against Mr. Lovelace. Against myself too. I send it enclosed. If you please, my dear, you may read it here: COL. MORDEN, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE Florence, April 13.
You know the uncontroulableness of the man. He loves his own humour better than he loves you though so fine a creature as you are! I warned you over and over: no young lady was ever more warned! Miss Clarissa Harlowe to do such a thing! You might have given your friends the meeting. If you had held your aversion, it would have been complied with.
But girls are so foolish; they never know what is really for their happiness; and if by any chance there should happen to be some passing folly, some fancy of the moment, to come between them and good fortune, everything is lost." She looked at Clarissa closely as she said this. The girl's face had been changing from red to pale throughout the interview.
'The light for I call them, in comparison with such sentiments, the light inclinations of very young people, pursued Miss Lavinia, 'are dust, compared to rocks. It is owing to the difficulty of knowing whether they are likely to endure or have any real foundation, that my sister Clarissa and myself have been very undecided how to act, Mr. Copperfield, and Mr.
Will she be as unfortunate as the rest of her race, I wonder? God forbid!" Clarissa was sitting by the fire in the dingy little waiting-room, with one elbow resting on the arm of her chair, her chin leaning on her hand, and her eyes fixed thoughtfully upon a dull red chasm in the coals.
Further, there would be more excuse for the most offensive part of Peregrine if it were not half plagiarism of the main situations of Pamela and Clarissa: if Smollett had not deprived his hero of all the excuses which, even in the view of some of the most respectable characters of Pamela, attached to the conduct of Mr.
"Never mind my hands; soap and water will cleanse them. Clarissa wants a 'real English Christmas, she said, and poor dear! she shall have it. It does my heart good to see her brighten and glow like her old pretty self." "You can thank Captain Yorke for putting the 'real English Christmas' into her head; there's a fine Tory for you, Betty.
And I swan to man if it didn't look as if she had! "Drive on!" says Clarissa, pretty average vinegary. "Haven't you made trouble enough for us already, you dreadful man? Drive on!" Hadn't I made trouble enough! What do you think of that? "You want to drown us!" says Miss Todd, continuing her chatty remarks. "I see it all! It's a plot between you and that murderer.
Fairfax's cold manner, and understood the reason of that tacit avoidance which had wounded her so deeply. She too, no doubt, was hateful; as hateful to the injured wife of Colonel Fairfax as his son could be to her father. "And now, Clarissa," said Mr. Lovel, "remember that any acquaintance between you and George Fairfax is most repugnant to me.
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