Could I help, my dear, being pleased with

them?

Permit me here to break off. The task too heavy, at present, for the heart of

Your

grows

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER XLV.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE. IN CONTINUATION.

I was very ill, and obliged to lay down my pen. I thought I should have fainted. But am better now-so will proceed.

The pretended ladies, the more we talked, the fonder they seemed to be of me. And the Lady Betty had Mrs. Moore called up; and asked her if she had accommodations for her niece and self, her woman, and two men servants for three or four days?

Mr. Lovelace answered for her that she had.

She would not ask her dear niece Lovelace [Permit me, my dear, whispered she, this charming style before strangers! I will keep your uncle's secret] whether she should be welcome or not to be so near her. But for the time she should stay in these parts, she would come up every night-what say you, niece Charlotte?

The pretended Charlotte answered, she should like to do so, of all things.

The Lady Betty called her an obliging girl. She liked the place, she said. Her cousin Leeson would excuse her. The air, and my company, would do her good. She never chose to lie in the smoky town, if she could help it. In short, my dear, said she to me, I will stay till you hear from Miss Howe,

and till I have your consent to go with me to Glenham Hall. Not one moment will I be out of your company, when I can have it. Stedman, my solicitor, as the distance from town is so small, may attend me here for instructions. Niece Charlotte,

one word with you, child.

They retired to the further end of the room and talked about their night-dresses.

The Miss Charlotte said, Morrison might be ordered to bring them.

True, said the other-but I have some letters in my private box, which I must have up. And you know, Charlotte, that I trust nobody with the keys of that.

Could not Morrison bring up that box?

No. She thought it safest where it was. She had heard of a robbery committed but two days ago, at the foot of Hampstead Hill; and she should be ruined if she lost her box.

Well then, it was but going to town to undress, and she would leave her jewels behind her, and return; and should be easier a great deal on all accounts.

For my part, I wondered they came up with them. But that was to be taken as a respect paid to me. And then they hinted at another visit of ceremony, which they had thought to make, had they not found me so inexpressibly engaging.

They talked loud enough for me to hear them; on purpose, no doubt, though in affected whispers; and concluded with high praises of me.

I was not fool enough to believe, or to be puffed up with their encomiums; yet not suspecting them I was not displeased at so favourable a beginning of acquaintance with ladies (whether I was to be related to them or not) of whom I had always heard honourable mention. And yet at the time I thought

highly as they exalted me, that in some respects (though I hardly knew in what) they fell short of what I expected them to be.

The grand deluder was at the further end of the room, another way; probably to give me an opportunity to hear the preconcerted praises-looking into a book, which, had there not been a preconcert, would not have taken his attention for one moment. It was Taylor's Holy Living and Dying.

When the pretended ladies joined me, he approached me with it in his hand-A smart book, this, my dear!-This old divine affects, I see, a mighty flowery style upon a very solemn subject. But it puts me in mind of an ordinary country funeral, where the young women, in honour of a defunct companion, especially if she were a virgin, or passed for such, make a flower-bed of her coffin. And then, laying down the book, turning upon his heel, with one of his usual airs of gaiety, Ând are you determined, ladies, to take up your lodgings with my charming creature?

Indeed they were.

Never were there more cunning, more artful impostors, than these women. Practised creatures, to be sure: yet genteel; and they must have been well educated once, perhaps, as much the delight of their parents as I was of mine: and who knows by what arts ruined, body and mind!-O my dear! how pregnant is this reflection!

But the man!-Never was there a man so deep. -Never so consummate a deceiver; except that detested Tomlinson; whose years and seriousness joined with a solidity of sense and judgment that seemed uncommon, gave him, one would have thought, advantages in villany, the other had not time for. Hard, very hard, that I should fall into the

knowledge of two such wretches; when two more such, I hope, are not to be met with in the world! Both so determined to carry on the most barbarous and perfidious projects against a poor young creature, who never did or wished harm to either.

Take the following slight account of these women's and of this man's behaviour to each other before me.

Mr. Lovelace carried himself to his pretended aunt with high respect, and paid a great deference to all she said. He permitted her to have all the advantage over him in the repartees and retorts that passed between them. I could, indeed, easily see, that it was permitted; and that he forbore that acumen, that quickness, which he never spared showing to the pretended Miss Montague: and which a man of wit seldom knows how to spare showing, when an opportunity offers to display his wit.

The pretended Miss Montague was still more respectful in her behaviour to her pretended aunt. While the aunt kept up the dignity of the character she had assumed, rallying both of them with the air of a person who depends upon the superiority which years and fortune give over younger persons, who might have a view to be obliged to her, either in life, or at her death.

The severity of her raillery, however, was turned upon Mr. Lovelace, on occasion of the character of the people who kept the lodgings, which, she said, I had thought myself so well warranted to leave privately.

This startled me. For having then no suspicion of the vile Tomlinson, I concluded (and your letter of the 7th favoured my conclusion) that if the house were notorious, either he, or Mr. Mennell,

*His forged Letter. See Vol. V. p. 166, & seq.

would have given me or him some hints of it.Nor, although I liked not the people, did I observe any thing in them very culpable, 'till the Wednesday night before, that they offered not to come to my assistance, although within hearing of my distress, (as I am sure they were) and having as much reason to be frighted at the fire, had it been real. I looked with indignation upon Mr. Lovelace, at

this hint.

He seemed abashed. I have not patience, but to recollect the specious looks of this vile deceiver. But how was it possible, that even that florid countenance of his should enable him to command a blush at his pleasure? For blush he did, more than once and the blush, on this occasion, was a deep dyed crimson, unstrained for, and natural, as I thought-but he is so much of the actor, that he seems able to enter into any character; and his muscles and features appear entirely under the obedience of his wicked will*.

The pretended lady went on, saying, she had taken upon herself to enquire after the people, on hearing that I had left the house in disgust; and though she heard not any thing much amiss, yet she heard enough to make her wonder that he could carry his lady, a person of so much delicacy to a house, that if it had not a bad fame, had not a good one.

*It is proper to observe, that there was a more natural reason than this that the lady gives for Mr. Lovelace's blushing. It was a blush of indignation, as he owned afterwards to his friend Belford, in conversation; for the pretended Lady Betty had mistaken her cue, in condemning the house; and he had much ado to recover the blunder; being obliged to follow her lead, and vary from his first design; which was to have the people of the house spoken well of, in order to induce her to return to it, were it but on pretence to direct her clothes to be carried to Hampstead,