it, is forbidden: And shall I do evil,
yet know not whether good may come of it or not?

Forbid it, heaven! that Clarissa Harlowe should have it in her thought
to serve, or even to save herself at the expense of her sincerity, and
by a studied deceit!

And is there, after all, no way to escape one great evil, but by
plunging myself into another?--What an ill-fated creature am I!--Pray
for me, my dearest Nancy!--my mind is at present so much disturbed, that
I can hardly pray for myself.

LETTER XXXIX

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY NIGHT.

This alarming hurry I mentioned under my date of last night, and Betty's
saucy dark hints, come out to be owing to what I guessed they were; that
is to say, to the private intimation Mr. Lovelace contrived our family
should have of his insolent resolution [insolent I must call it] to
prevent my being carried to my uncle's.

I saw at the time that it was as wrong with respect to answering his own
view, as it was insolent: For, could he think, as Betty (I suppose from
her betters) justly observed, that parents would be insulted out of
their right to dispose of their own child, by a violent man, whom they
hate; and who could have no pretension to dispute that right with them,
unless what he had from her who had none over herself? And how must
this insolence of his, aggravated as my brother is able to aggravate it,
exasperate them against me?

The rash man has indeed so far gained his point, as to intimidate them
from attempting to carry me away: but he has put them upon a surer and
a more desperate measure: and this has driven me also into one as
desperate; the consequence of which, although he could not foresee it,*
may perhaps too well answer his great end, little as he deserves to have
it answered.

* She was mistaken in this. Mr. Lovelace did foresee this
consequence. All his contrivances led to it, and the whole
family, as he boasts, unknown to themselves, were but so
many puppets danced by his wires. See Vol.I. Letter XXXI.

In short, I have done, as far as I know, the most rash thing that ever I
did in my life.

But let me give you the motive, and then the action will follow of
course.

About six o'clock this evening, my aunt (who stays here all night, on my
account, no doubt) came up and tapped at my door; for I was writing;
and had locked myself in. I opened it; and she entering, thus delivered
herself:

I come once