sake, that you would rein in a vivacity, which, on most other occasions, so charmingly becomes you. This was her sense. You know that I am warranted to speak and write freer to my Anna Howe, than Mrs. Norton would do. I durst not mention it to you at that time, because appearances were so strong against me, on Mr. Lovelace's getting me again into his powers (after my escape to Hampstead) as made you very angry with me when you answered mine on my second escape. And, soon afterwards, I was put under that barbarous arrest: so that I could not well touch upon that subject till now. Now, therefore, my dearest Miss Howe, let me repeat my earnest request (for this is not the first time by several that I have been obliged to chide you on this occasion), that you will spare my parents, and other relations, in all your conversations about me. Indeed, I wish they had thought fit to take other measures with me: but who shall judge for them?-The event has justified them, and condemned me. They expected nothing good of this vile man; he has not, therefore, deceived them; but they expected other things from me; and I have. And they have the more reason to be set against me, if (as my aunt Hervey wrote formerly) they intended not to force my inclinations, in favour of Mr. Solmes; and if they believe, that my going off was the effect of choice and premeditation. * I have no desire to be received to favour by them: for why should I wish for what I have no reason to expect?-Besides, I could not look them in the face, if they would receive me. Indeed I could not. All I have to hope for, is, first, that my father will absolve me from his heavy malediction: and next, for a last blessing. The obtaining of these favours are needful to my peace of mind. I have written to my sister; but have only mentioned the absolution. I am afraid, I shall receive a very harsh answer from her: my fault, in the eyes of my family, is of so enormous a nature, that my first application will hardly be encouraged. Then they know not (nor perhaps will believe) that I am so very ill as I am. So that, were I actually to die before they could have time to take the necessary informations, you must not blame them too severely. You must call it a fatality. I know not what you must call it: for, alas! I have made them as miserable as I am myself. And yet sometimes I think, that, were they cheerfully to pronounce me forgiven, I know not whether my concern for having offended them would not be augmented: since I imagine, that nothing can be more wounding to a spirit not ungenerous, than a generous forgiveness. I hope your mother will permit our correspondence for one month more, although I do not take her advice as to having this man. Only for one month. I will not desire it longer. When catastrophes are winding up, what changes (changes that make one's heart shudder to think of) may one short month produce!-But if she will not-why then, my dear, it becomes us both to acquiesce. You can't think what my apprehensions would have been, had I known Mr. Hickman was to have had a meeting (on such a questioning occasion as must have been his errand from you) with that haughty and uncontrolable man. You give me hope of a visit from Mr. Hickman: let him expect to see me greatly altered. I know he loves me: for he loves every one whom you love. A painful interview, I doubt! But I shall be glad to see a man, whom you will one day, and that on an early day, I hope, make happy; and whose gentle manners, and unbounded love for you, will make you so, if it be not your own fault. I am, my dearest, kindest friend, the sweet companion of my happy hours, the friend ever dearest and nearest to my fond heart, Your equally obliged and faithful CLARISSA HARLOWE. LETTER XCIII. MRS. NORTON TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE. Monday, July 24. EXCUSE, my dearest young lady, my long silence, I have been extremely ill. My poor boy has also been at death's door; and, when I hoped that he was better, he has relapsed. Alas! my dear, he is very dangerously ill. Let us both have your prayers! Very angry letters have passed between your sister and Miss Howe. Every one of your family is incensed against that young lady. I wish you would remonstrate against her warmth; since it can do no good; for they will not believe, but that her interposition has your connivance; nor that you are so ill as Miss Howe assures them you are. Before she wrote, they were going to send up young Mr. Brand, the clergyman, to make private inquiries of your health, and way of life.-But now they are so exasperated, that they have laid aside their intention. We have flying reports here, and at Harlowe Place, of some fresh insults which you have undergone: and that you are about to put yourself into Lady Betty Lawrance's protection. I believe they would now be glad (as I should be) that you would do so; and this, perhaps, will make them suspend, for the present, any determination in your favour. How unhappy am I, that the dangerous way my son is in prevents my attendance on you! Let me beg of you to write me word how you are, both as to person and mind. A servant of Sir Robert Beachcroft, who rides post on his master's business to town, will present you with this: and, perhaps, will bring me the favour of a few lines in return. He will be obliged to stay in town several hours, for an answer to his dispatches. This is the anniversary, that used to give joy to as many as had the pleasure and honour of knowing you. May the Almighty bless you, and grant, that it may be the only unhappy one that may be ever known by you, my dearest young lady; and by Your ever affectionate JUDITH NORTON. END OF VOL. VI. G. WOODFALL, PRINTER, |