ject that had a tendency to promote an end I was far from intending to promote.

He represented to me, that my present disgraceful confinement was known to all the world: that neither my sister nor brother scrupled to represent me as an obliged and favoured child in a state of actual rebellion :—that, nevertheless, everybody who knew me was ready to justify me for an aversion to a man whom everybody thought utterly unworthy of me, and more fit for my sister: that unhappy as he was, in not having been able to make any greater impression upon me in his favour, all the world gave me to him :-nor was there but one objection made to him, by his very enemies (his birth, his fortunes, his prospects all unexceptionable, and the latter splendid); and that objection, he thanked God, and my example, was in a fair way of being removed for ever since he had seen his error, and was heartily sick of the courses he had followed; which, however, were far less enormous than malice and envy had represented them to be. But of this he should say the less, as it were much better to justify himself by his actions, than by the most solemn asseverations and promises. And then complimenting my person, he assured me (for that he always loved virtue, although he had not followed its rules as he ought) that he was still more captivated with the graces of my mind: and would frankly own, that till he had the honour to know me, he had never met with an inducement sufficient to enable him to overcome an unhappy kind of prejudice to matrimony; which had made him before impenetrable to the wishes and recommendations of all his relations.

You see, my dear, he scruples not to speak of himself, as his enemies speak of him. I can't say, but his openness in these particulars gives a credit to his other professions. We have heard, that the man's head is better than his heart but do you really think Mr. Lovelace can

have a very bad heart? Why should not there be something in blood in the human creature, as well as in the ignobler animals? None of his family are exceptionable -but himself, indeed. The characters of the ladies are admirable.

He then again pressed me to receive a letter of offered protection from Lady Betty. He said, that people of birth stood a little too much upon punctilio; as people of virtue also did; but indeed birth, worthily lived up to, was virtue virtue, birth; the inducements to a decent punctilio the same; the origin of both, one (how came this notion from him!)—: else, Lady Betty would write to me but she would be willing to be first apprised, that her offer would be well received.

I told him, that, however greatly I thought myself obliged to Lady Betty Lawrence, if this offer came from herself; yet it was easy to see to what it led. It might look like vanity in me perhaps to say, that this urgency in him, on this occasion, wore the face of art, in order to engage me into measures from which I might not easily extricate myself.

I then assured him, that it was with infinite concern, that I had found myself drawn into an epistolary correspondence with him; especially since that correspondence had been prohibited :-and the only agreeable use I could think of making of this unexpected and undesired interview, was, to let him know, that I should from henceforth think myself obliged to discontinue it. And I hoped, that he would not have the thought of engaging me to carry it on by menacing my relations.

There was light enough to distinguish, that he looked very grave upon this. He said, he would leave it to me. to judge, whether it would be reasonable for him, as a man of spirit, to bear insults, if it were not for my sake. I would be pleased to consider, in the next place, whether the situation I was in admitted of delay in the preventive

measures he was desirous to put me upon, in the last resort only. Nor was there a necessity, he said, if I were actually in Lady Betty's protection, that I should be his, if, afterwards, I should see anything objectionable in his conduct.

But what would the world conclude would be the end, I demanded, were I, in the last resort, as he proposed, to throw myself into the protection of his friends, but that it was with such a view?

And what less did the world think now, he asked, than that I was confined that I might not? You are to consider, madam, you have not now an option.

And give me leave to say, proceeded he, that if a correspondence on which I have founded all my hopes, is, at this critical conjuncture, to be broken off; and if you are resolved not to be provided against the worst; it must be plain to me, that you will at last yield to that worstworst to me only-it cannot be to you-and then! (and he put his hand clenched to his forehead) how shall I bear the supposition?-Then will you be that Solmes's!— But, by all that's sacred, neither he, nor your brother, nor your uncles, shall enjoy their triumph-perdition seize my soul, if they shall !

The man's vehemence frightened me: yet, in resentment, I would have left him; but, throwing himself at my feet again, leave me not thus-I beseech you, dearest madam, leave me not thus, in despair.

Would I declare, that I would still honour him with my correspondence?—He could not bear, that, hoping to obtain greater instances of my favour, he should forfeit the only one he had to boast of.

I bid him forbear rashness or resentment to any of my family, and I would, for some time at least, till I saw what issue my present trials were likely to have, proceed with a correspondence, which, nevertheless, my heart condemned-s

I made many efforts to go; and now it was so dark, that I began to have great apprehensions. I cannot say from his behaviour: indeed, he has a good deal raised himself in my opinion by the personal respect, even to reverence, which he paid me during the whole conference : for although he flamed out once, upon a supposition that Solmes might succeed, it was upon a supposition that would excuse passion, if anything could, you know, in a man pretending to love with fervour; although it was so levelled, that I could not avoid resenting it.

He recommended himself to my favour at parting, with great earnestness, yet with as great submission; not offering to condition anything with me; although he hinted his wishes for another meeting: which I forbad him ever attempting again in the same place. And I will own to you, from whom I should be really blameable to conceal anything, that his arguments (drawn from the disgraceful treatment I meet with) of what I am to expect, make me begin to apprehend, that I shall be under an obligation to be either the one man's or the other's-and if so, I fancy I shall not incur your blame, were I to say, which of the two it must be. You have said, which it must not be. But, O my dear, the single life is by far the most eligible to me: indeed it is. And I hope yet to be permitted to make that option.

MISS HOWE TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE.

Sunday, March 19.

S to your change of style to your uncles, and brother and sister, since they were so fond of

attributing to you a regard for Lovelace, and would not be persuaded to the contrary; and since you only strengthened their arguments against yourself by denying it; you did but just as I would have done, in giving way to their suspicions, and trying what that would

do—But if—but if-pray, my dear, indulge me a little— You yourself think it was necessary to apologise to me for that change of style to them-and till you will speak out like a friend to her unquestionable friend, I must tease you a little-Let it run therefore; for it will run—

If, then, there be not a reason for this change of style, which you have not thought fit to give me, be so good as to watch, as I once before advised you, how the cause for it will come on-Why should it be permitted to steal upon you, and you know nothing of the matter?

When we get a great cold, we are apt to puzzle ourselves to find out when it began, or how we got it; and when that is accounted for, down we sit contented, and let it have its course; or, if it be very troublesome, take a sweat, or use other means to get rid of it-So, my dear, before the malady you wot of, yet wot not of, grows so importunate, as that you must be obliged to sweat it out, let me advise you to mind how it comes on. For I am persuaded, as surely as that I am now writing to you, that the indiscreet violence of your friends on one hand, and the insinuating address of Lovelace on the other (if the man be not a greater fool than anybody thinks him) will effectually bring it to this, and do all his work for him.

I wish you are not indeed angry with me for harping so much on one string. I must own, that I should think myself inexcusable so to do, if you would ingeniously

own

Own what? you'll say. Why, my Anna Howe, I hope, you don't think, that I am already in love!—

No, to be sure! How can your Anna Howe have such a thought? What then shall we call it? You have helped me to a phrase.—A conditional kind of liking!—that's it. -O my friend! How much you despise prudery; and that you are too young, and too lovely, to be a prude— Let me add, that if you would clearly and explicitly tell me, how far Lovelace has, or has not, a hold in your