LETTER LXXIV.

MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE.

Thursday Morn. June 20.

WHAT, my dearest creature, have been your sufferings! -What must have been your anguish on so disgraceful an insult, commited in the open streets, and in the broad day!

No end, I think, of the undeserved calamities of a dear soul, who has been so unhappily driven and betrayed into the hands of a vile libertine !-How was I shocked at the receiving of your letter written by another hand, and only dictated by you!-You must be very ill. Nor is it to be wondered at. But I hope it is rather from hurry, and surprise, and lowness, which may be overcome, than from a grief given way to, which may be attended with effects I cannot bear to think of.

But whatever you do, my dear, you must not despond! Indeed you must not despond! Hitherto you have been in no fault but despair would be all your own: and the worst fault you can be guilty of.

I cannot bear to look upon another hand instead of your's. My dear creature, send me a few lines, though ever so few, in your own hand, if possible.-For they will revive my heart; especially if they can acquaint me of your amended health.

I expect your answer to my letter of the 13th. We all expect it with impatience.

His relations are persons of so much honour-they are so very earnest to rank you among them-the wretch is so very penitent: every one of his family says he is

your own are so implacable-your last distress, though the consequence of his former villany, yet neither brought on by his direction nor with his knowledge; and so much resented by him-that my mother is absolutely of opinion that you should be his-especially if, yielding to my wishes, as expressed in my letter, and those of all his friends, you would have complied, had it not been for this horrid arrest.

I will enclose the copy of the letter I wrote to Miss Montague last Tuesday, on hearing that nobody knew what was become of you; and the answer to it, underwritten and signed by Lord M., Lady Sarah Sadleir, and Lady Betty Lawrance, as well as by the young Ladies; and also by the wretch himself.

I own, that I like not the turn of what he has written to me; and, before I will further interest myself in his favour, I have determined to inform myself, by a friend, from his own mouth, of his sincerity, and whether his whole inclination be, in his request to me, exclusive of the wishes of his relations. Yet my heart rises against him, on the supposition that there is the shadow of a reason for such a question, the woman Miss Clarissa Harlowe. But I think, with my mother, that marriage is now the only means left to make your future life tolerably easy-happy there is no saying.-His disgraces, in that case, in the eye of the world itself, will be more than your's: and, to those who know you, glorious will be your triumph.

I am obliged to accompany my mother soon to the Isle of Wight. My aunt Harman is in a declining way, and insists upon seeing us both-and Mr. Hickman too, I think.

His sister, of whom we had heard so much, with her

lord, were brought t'other day to visit us. likes me, or says she does.

She strangely

I can't say but that I think she answers the excellent character we heard of her.

It would be death to me to set out for the little island, and not see you first; and yet my mother (fond of exert ing an authority that she herself, by that exertion, often brings into question) insists, that my next visit to you must be a congratulatory one as Mrs. Lovelace.

When I know what will be the result of the questions to be put in my name to that wretch, and what is your mind on my letter of the 13th, I shall tell you more of mine.

The bearer promises to make so much dispatch as to attend you this very afternoon. May he return with good tidings to

Your ever affectionate

ANNA HOWE.

LETTER LXXV.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE.

Thursday Afternoon.

You pain me, my dearest Miss Howe, by the ardour of your noble friendship. I will be very brief, because I am not well; yet a good deal better than I was; and because I am preparing an answer to your's of the 13th. But, be. fore hand, I must tell you, my dear, I will not have that man-don't be angry with me. But indeed I won't. So let him be asked no questions about me, I beseech you.

I do not despond, my dear. I hope I may say, I will not despond. Is not my condition greatly mended? I thank Heaven it is!

4

I am no prisoner now in a vile house. I am not now in the power of that man's devices. I am not now obliged to hide myself in corners for fear of him. One of his intimate companions is become my warm friend, and engages to keep him from me, and that by his own consent. I am among honest people. I have all my clothes and effects restored to me. The wretch himself bears testimony to my honour.

Indeed I am very weak and ill: but I have an excellent physician, Dr. H. and as worthy an apothecary, Mr. Goddard. Their treatment of me, my dear, is perfectly paternal!-My mind too, I can find, begins to strengthen : and methinks, at times, I find myself superior to my cala. mities.

I shall have sinkings sometimes. I must expect such. And father's maledictmy will chide me for

But

you

introducing that, now I am enumerating my comforts.

But I charge you, my dear, that you do not suffer my calamities to sit too heavy upon your own mind. If you do, that will be to new-point some of those arrows that have been blunted and lost their sharpness.

If you would contribute to my happiness, give way, my dear, to your own; and to the cheerful prospects before you!

You will think very meanly of your Clarissa, if you do not believe, that the greatest pleasure she can receive in this life is in your prosperity and welfare. Think not of me, my only friend, but as we were in times past: and suppose me gone a great, great way off!-A long journey!

How often are the dearest of friends, at their country's

call, thus parted-with a certainty for years with a pro

bability for ever.

Love me still, however.

But let it be with a weaning

when we were inseparable

love. I am not what I was, lovers, as I may say.-Our views must now be different.Resolve, my dear, to make a worthy man happy, because a worthy man must make you so.-And so, my dearest love, for the present adieu !-adieu, my dearest love!—but I shall soon write again, I hope!

I

LETTER LXXVI.

MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

[In answer to Letter LXXIII. of this volume.]

Thursday, July 20.

READ that part of your conclusion to poor Belton, where you inquire after him, and mention how merrily you and the rest pass your time at M. Hall. He fetched a deep sigh: You are all very happy! were his words.I am sorry they were his words; for, poor fellow, he is going very fast. Change of air, he hopes, will mend him, joined to the cheerful company I have left him in. But nothing, I dare say, will.

A consuming malady, and a consuming mistress, to an indulgent keeper, are dreadful things to struggle with both together violence must be used to get rid of the latter; and yet he has not spirit left him to exert himself. His house is Thomasine's house; not his. He has not

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