Free Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1 by Samuel Richardson Page A

it.
    Such a solemnity in every body's countenance!--My mother's eyes were fixed upon the tea-cups; and when she looked up, it was heavily, as if her eye-lids had weights upon them; and then not to me. My father sat half-aside in his elbow-chair, that his head might be turned from me: his hands clasped, and waving, as it were, up and down; his fingers, poor dear gentleman! in motion, as if angry to the very ends of them. My sister was swelling. My brother looked at me with scorn, having measured me, as I may say, with his eyes as I entered, from head to foot. My aunt was there, and looked upon me as if with kindness restrained, bending coldly to my compliment to her as she sat; and then cast an eye first on my brother, then on my sister, as if to give the reason [so I am willing to construe it] of her unusual stiffness.- -Bless me, my dear! that they should choose to intimidate rather than invite a mind, till now, not thought either unpersuadable or ungenerous!
    I took my seat. Shall I make tea, Madam, to my mother?--I always used, you know, my dear, to make tea.
    No! a very short sentence, in one very short word, was the expressive answer. And she was pleased to take the canister in her own hand.
    My brother bid the footman, who attended, leave the room--I, he said,
will pour out the water.
    My heart was up in my mouth. I did not know what to do with myself. What is to follow? thought I.
    Just after the second dish, out stept my mother--A word with you, sister Hervey! taking her in her hand. Presently my sister dropt away. Then my brother. So I was left alone with my father.
    He looked so very sternly, that my heart failed me as twice or thrice I would have addressed myself to him: nothing but solemn silence on all hands having passed before.
    At last, I asked, if it were his pleasure that I should pour him out
another dish?
    He answered me with the same angry monosyllable, which I had received from my mother before; and then arose, and walked about the room. I arose too, with intent to throw myself at his feet; but was too much overawed by his sternness, even to make such an expression of my duty to him as my heart overflowed with.
    At last, as he supported himself, because of his gout, on the back of a chair, I took a little more courage; and approaching him, besought him to acquaint me in what I had offended him?
    He turned from me, and in a strong voice, Clarissa Harlowe, said he, know that I will be obeyed.
    God forbid, Sir, that you should not!--I have never yet opposed your
will--
    Nor I your whimsies, Clarissa Harlowe, interrupted he.--Don't let me run the fate of all who shew indulgence to your sex; to be the more contradicted for mine to you.
    My father, you know, my dear, has not (any more than my brother) a kind opinion of our sex; although there is not a more condescending wife in the world than my mother.
    I was going to make protestations of duty--No protestations, girl! No words! I will not be prated to! I will be obeyed! I have no child, I will have no child, but an obedient one.
    Sir, you never had reason, I hope--
    Tell me not what I never had, but what I have, and what I shall have.
    Good Sir, be pleased to hear me--My brother and sister, I fear--
    Your brother and sister shall not be spoken against, girl!--They have a just concern for the honour of my family.
    And I hope, Sir--
    Hope nothing.--Tell me not of hopes, but of facts. I ask nothing of you but what is in your power to comply with, and what it is your duty to comply with.
    Then, Sir, I will comply with it--But yet I hope from your goodness--
    No expostulations! No but's, girl! No qualifyings! I will be obeyed, I tell you; and cheerfully too!--or you are no child of mine!
    I wept.
    Let me beseech you, my dear and ever-honoured Papa, (and I dropt down on my knees,) that I may have only yours and my mamma's will, and not my brother's, to obey.
    I was going on; but he was pleased to withdraw, leaving me on the floor; saying, That he would not hear