I consider every thing, my dearest Miss: and, added to what I have said,
do you only consider, that if, by pursuing your own will, and rejecting
theirs, you should be unhappy, you will be deprived of all that
consolation which those have, who have been directed by their parents,
although the event prove not answerable to their wishes.

I must go, repeated she: your brother will say [and she wept] that I
harden you by my whining nonsense. 'Tis indeed hard, that so much
regard should be paid to the humours of one child, and so little to
the inclination of another. But let me repeat, that it is your duty to
acquiesce, if you can acquiesce: your father has given your brother's
schemes his sanction, and they are now his. Mr. Lovelace, I doubt,
is not a man that will justify your choice so much as he will their
dislike. It is easy to see that your brother has a view in discrediting
you with all your friends, with your uncles in particular: but for that
very reason, you should comply, if possible, in order to disconcert his
ungenerous measures. I will pray for you; and that is all I can do for
you. I must now go down, and make a report, that you are resolved never
to have Mr. Solmes--Must I?--Consider, my dear Miss Clary--Must I?

Indeed you must!--But of this I do assure you, that I will do nothing to
disgrace the part you have had in my education. I will bear every thing
that shall be short of forcing my hand into his who never can have any
share in my heart. I will try by patient duty, by humility, to overcome
them. But death will I choose, in any shape, rather than that man.

I dread to go down, said she, with so determined an answer: they will
have no patience with me.--But let me leave you with one observation,
which I beg of you always to bear in mind:--

'That persons of prudence, and distinguished talents, like yours, seem
to be sprinkled through the world, to give credit, by their example, to
religion and virtue. When such persons wilfully err, how great must
be the fault! How ungrateful to that God, who blessed them with such
talents! What a loss likewise to the world! What a wound to virtue!--But
this, I hope, will never be to be said of Miss Clarissa Harlowe!'

I could give her no answer, but by my tears. And I thought, when she
went away, the better half of my heart went with her.

I listened to hear what reception she would meet with below; and found
it was just such a one as she had apprehended.

Will she