be
tempted to think by the issue, that Mr. Lovelace was ungenerous enough
to seek the occasion given,* and to improve it. Yet he thought fit to
put the question too:--But, she says, it was not till, by some means
or other (she knew not how) he had wrought her up to such a pitch of
displeasure with him, that it was impossible for her to recover herself
at the instant. Nevertheless he re-urged his question, as expecting
a definitive answer, without waiting for the return of her temper,
or endeavouring to mollify her; so that she was under a necessity of
persisting in her denial: yet gave him reason to think she did not
dislike his address, only the manner of it; his court being rather made
to her mother than to herself, as if he was sure of her consent at any
time.

* See Mr. Lovelace's Letter, No. XXXI, in which he briefly
accounts for his conduct in this affair.

A good encouraging denial, I must own: as was the rest of her plea; to
wit, 'A disinclination to change her state. Exceedingly happy as she
was: she never could be happier!' And such-like consenting negatives,
as I may call them, and yet not intend a reflection upon my sister: for
what can any young creature in the like circumstances say, when she is
not sure but a too-ready consent may subject her to the slights of a sex
that generally values a blessing either more or less as it is obtained
with difficulty or ease? Miss Biddulph's answer to a copy of verse from
a gentleman, reproaching our sex as acting in disguise, is not a bad
one, although you may perhaps think it too acknowledging for the female
character.

Ungen'rous Sex!--To scorn us if we're kind;
And yet upbraid us if we seem severe!
Do you, t' encourage us to tell our mind,
Yourselves put off disguise, and be sincere.
You talk of coquetry!--Your own false hearts
Compel our sex to act dissembling parts.

Here I am obliged to lay down my pen. I will soon resume it.

LETTER III

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE JAN. 13, 14.

And thus, as Mr. Lovelace thought fit to take it, had he his answer from
my sister. It was with very great regret, as he pretended, [I doubt
the man is an hypocrite, my dear] that he acquiesced in it. 'So much
determinedness; such a noble firmness in my sister, that there was no
hope of prevailing upon her to alter sentiments she had adopted on full
consideration.' He sighed, as Bella told us, when he took his leave of
her: 'Profoundly s