But if it shall come out, that the person within the garden was his corrupted implement, employed to frighten me away with him, do you think, my dear, that I shall not have reason to hate him and myself still more? I hope his heart cannot be so deep and so vile a one: I hope it cannot! But how came it to pass, that one man could get out of the garden-door, and no more? How, that that man kept aloof, as it were, and pursued us not; nor ran back to alarm the house? My fright, and my distance, would not let me be certain; but really this man, as I now recollect, had the air of that vile Joseph Leman.

Tell me, my dear Miss Howe, tell me truly, if your unbiassed heart does not despise me ?-it must! for your mind and mine were ever one; and I despise myself!— and well I may: for could the giddiest and most inconsiderate girl in England have done worse than I shall appear to have done in the eye of the world? Since my crime will be known without the provocations, and without the artifices of the betrayer too; while it will be a high aggravation, that better things were expected from me, than from many others.

You charge me to marry the first opportunity-ah! my dear! another of the blessed effects of my folly-that's as much in my power now as-as I am myself!—and can I besides give a sanction immediately to his deluding arts? ---can I avoid being angry with him for tricking me thus, as I may say (and as I have called it to him) out of myself?-for compelling me to take a step so contrary to all my resolutions and assurances given to you; a step so dreadfully inconvenient to myself; so disgraceful and so grievous (as it must be) to my dear mother, were I to be less regardful of any other of my family of friends—you don't know, nor can you imagine, my dear, how I am mortified how much I am sunk in my own opinion !—I, that was proposed for an example, truly, to others!—oh, that I were again in my father's house, stealing down

with a letter to you; my heart beating with expectation of finding one from you!

This is the Wednesday morning I dreaded so much, that I once thought of it as the day of my doom: but of the Monday, it is plain, I ought to have been most apprehensive. Had I stayed, and had the worst I dreaded happened, my friends would then have been answerable for the consequences, if any bad ones had followed :-but now, I have this only consolation left me (a very poor one, you'll say !) that I have cleared them of blame, and taken it all upon myself!

The lodgings I am in, are inconvenient. I shall not stay in them: so it signifies nothing to tell you how to direct to me hither. And where my next may be, as yet I know not.

He knows that I am writing to you; and has offered to send my letter, when finished, by a servant of his. But I thought I could not be too cautious, as I am now situated, in baving a letter of this importance conveyed to you. Who knows what such a man may do? So very wicked a contriver! The contrivance, if a contrivance, to get me away, so insolently mean!-but I hope it is not a contrivance neither!-yet, be that as it will, I must say, that the best of him, and of my prospects with him, are bad: and yet, having enrolled myself among the too late repenters, who shall pity me?

Nevertheless, I will dare to hope for a continued interest in your affections (I shall be miserable indeed if I may not!) and to be remembered in your daily prayers. For neither time nor accident shall ever make me cease

to be

Your faithful and affectionate

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

VOL. I.

B

润

MR. LOVELACE TO JOSEPH LEMAN.

Saturday, April 8.

ONEST JOSEPH,-At length your beloved young lady has consented to free herself from the cruel

treatment she has so long borne. She is to meet me without the garden-door at about four o'clock on Monday afternoon. I told you she had promised to do

So.

She has confirmed her promise. Thank heaven, she has confirmed her promise.

I shall have a chariot-and-six ready in the bye-road fronting the private path to Harlowe Paddock; and several of my friends and servants not far off, armed to protect her, if there be occasion: but every one charged to avoid mischief. That, you know, has always been my principal care.

All my fear is, that when she comes to the point, the over-niceness of her principles will make her waver, and want to go back : although her honour is my honour, you know, and mine is hers. If she should, and I should be unable to prevail upon her, all your past services will avail nothing, and she will be lost to me for ever: the prey then of that cursed Solmes, whose vile stinginess will never permit him to do good to any of the servants of the family.

Contrive to be in the garden, in disguise if possible, and unseen by your young lady. If you find the garden-door unbolted, you will know that she and I are together, although you should not see her go out at it. It will be locked, but my key shall be on the ground just without the door, that you may open it with yours, as it may be needful.

If you hear our voices parleying, keep at the door till I cry Hem, hem, twice: but be watchful for this signal; for I must not hem very loud, lest she should take it for a

signal. Perhaps, in struggling to prevail upon the dear creature, I may have an opportunity to strike the door hard with my elbow, or heel, to confirm you; then you are to make a violent burst against the door, as if you would break it open, drawing backward and forward the bolt in a hurry then, with another push, but with more noise than strength, lest the lock give way, cry out (as if you saw some of the family), Come up, come up, instantly! Here they are! Here they are! Hasten! This instant hasten ! And mention swords, pistols, guns, with as terrible a voice as you can cry out with. Then shall I prevail upon her, no doubt, if loth before, to fly. If I cannot, I will enter the garden with her, and the house too, be the consequence what it will. But so affrighted, there is no question but she will fly.

When you think us at a sufficient distance (and I shall raise my voice urging her swifter flight, that you may guess at that) then open the door with your key: but you must be sure to open it very cautiously, lest we should not be far enough off. I would not have her know you have a hand in this matter, out of my great regard to

you.

When you have opened the door, take your key out of the lock, and put it in your pocket: then, stooping for mine, put it in the lock on the inside, that it may appear as if the door was opened by herself, with a key, which they will suppose of my procuring (it being new) and left open by us.

They should conclude she is gone off by her own consent, that they may not pursue us that they may see no hopes of tempting her back again. In either case, mischief might happen, you know.

But you must take notice, that you are only to open the door with your key, in case none of the family come up to interrupt us, and before we are quite gone: for, if they do, you'll find by what follows, that you must not

open the door at all. Let them, on breaking it open, or by getting over the wall, find my key on the ground, if they will.

If they do not come to interrupt us, and if you, by help of your key, come out, follow us at a distance; and, with uplifted hands, and wild and impatient gestures (running backward and forward, for fear you should come too near us; and as if you saw somebody coming to your assistance) cry out for help, help, and to hasten. Then shall we be soon at the chariot.

Tell the family, that you saw me enter a chariot with her a dozen, or more, men on horseback, attending us; all armed; some with blunderbusses, as you believe; and that we took the quite contrary way to that we shall take.

But, if our parley should last longer than I wish; and if any of her friends miss her before I cry, Hem, hem, twice; then in order to save yourself (which is a very great point with me, I assure you) make the same noise as above: but as I directed before, open not the door with your key. On the contrary, wish for a key with all your heart; but for fear any of them should by accident have a key about them, keep in readiness half a dozen little gravel stones, no bigger than peas, and thrust two or three slily into the keyhole; which will hinder their key from turning round. It is good, you know, Joseph, to provide against every accident in such an important case as this. And let this be your cry, instead of the other, if any of my enemies come in your sight, as you seem to be trying to burst the door open, Sir! sir! or madam madam! O Lord, hasten! O Lord, hasten! Mr. Lovelace !-Mr. Lovelace! And very loud-and that shall quicken me more than it shall those you call to.—If it be Betty, and only Betty, I shall think worse of your art of making love, than of your fidelity, if you can't find a way to amuse her, and put her upon a false scent.