Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 6 by Samuel Richardson
page 23 of 403 (05%)
page 23 of 403 (05%)
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She often wept as she talked, and much oftener sighed. She looked at me twice with an eye of undoubted gentleness, and three times with an eye tending to compassion and softness; but its benign rays were as often snatched back, as I may say, and her face averted, as if her sweet eyes were not to be trusted, and could not stand against my eager eyes; seeking, as they did, for a lost heart in her's, and endeavouring to penetrate to her very soul. More than once I took her hand. She struggled not much against the freedom. I pressed it once with my lips--she was not very angry. A frown indeed--but a frown that had more distress in it than indignation. How came the dear soul, (clothed as it is with such a silken vesture,) by all its steadiness?* Was it necessary that the active gloom of such a tyrant of a father, should commix with such a passive sweetness of a will-less mother, to produce a constancy, an equanimity, a steadiness, in the daughter, which never woman before could boast of? If so, she is more obliged to that despotic father than I could have imagined a creature to be, who gave distinction to every one related to her beyond what the crown itself can confer. * See Vol. I. Letters IX. XIV. and XIX. for what she herself says on that steadiness which Mr. Lovelace, though a deserved sufferer by it, cannot help admiring. I hoped, I said, that she would admit of the intended visit, which I had so often mentioned, of the two ladies. |
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