I am sure she would not have turned me over for an answer to a letter written with so contrite and fervent a spirit, as was mine to her, to a masculine spirit, had she

been left to herself.

But, my dear Mrs. Norton, might not, think you, the revered lady have favoured me with one private line?— if not, might not you have written by her order, or connivance, one softening, one motherly line, when she saw her poor girl, whom once she dearly loved, borne so hard upon?

O no, she might not !-because her heart, to be sure, is in their measures!--and if she think them right, perhaps they must be right!—at least knowing only what they know, they must!—and yet they might know all, if they would!—and possibly, in their own good time, they think to make proper inquiry. My application was made to them but lately. Yet how deeply will it afflict them, if their time should be out of time!

When you have before you the letters I have sent to Miss Howe, you will see, that Lord M. and the ladies of his family, jealous as they are of the honour of their house (to express myself in their language) think better of me than my own relations do. You will see an instance of their generosity to me which at the time extremely affected me, and indeed still affects me. Unhappy man! gay, inconsiderate, and cruel! What has been his gain by making unhappy a creature who hoped to make him happy! And who was determined to deserve the love of all to whom he is related!-Poor man!-But you will mistake a compassionate and placable nature for love!-He took care, great care, that I should rein-in betimes any passion that I might have had for him, had he known how to be but commonly grateful or generous !-But the Almighty knows what is best for his poor creatures.

you

Some of the letters in the same packet will also let into the knowledge of a strange step which I have taken

(strange you will think it); and, at the same time, give you my reasons for taking it.

I am glad to hear of my cousin Morden's safe arrival. I should wish to see him methinks: but I am afraid, that he will sail with the stream; as it must be expected, that he will hear what they have to say first.-But what I most fear, is, that he will take upon himself to avenge me— rather than he should do so, I would have him look upon me as a creature utterly unworthy of his concern ; at least of his vindictive concern.

How soothing to the wounded heart of your Clarissa, how balmy, are the assurances of your continued love and favour!—Love me, my dear mamma Norton, continue to love me, to the end!-I now think, that I may, without presumption, promise to deserve your love to the end. And when I am gone, cherish my memory in your worthy heart; for in so doing you will cherish the memory of one who loves and honours you more than she can express. Your ever dutiful and affectionate CLARISSA HARLOWE.

MR. LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

Sunday, August 13.

DON'T know what a devil ails me; but I never

was so much indisposed in my life. At first, I thought some of my blessed relations here had got a dose administered to me, in order to get the whole house to themselves. But, as I am the hopes of the family, I believe they would not be so wicked.

I must lay down my pen. I cannot write with any spirit at all. What a plague can be the matter with me!

Lord M. paid me just now a cursed gloomy visit, to ask how I do after bleeding. His sisters both drove away yesterday, God be thanked. But they asked not my leave; and hardly bid me good-bye. My lord was

more tender, and more dutiful, than I expected. Men are less unforgiving than women. I have reason to say so, I am sure. For, besides implacable Miss Harlowe, and the old ladies, the two Montague apes han't been near me yet.

Neither eat, drink, nor sleep!-a piteous case, Jack! If I should die like a fool now, people would say Miss Harlowe had broken my heart. That she vexes me to the heart, is certain.

Confounded squeamish! I would fain write it off. But must lay down my pen again. It won't do. Poor Lovelace! What a devil ails thee?

Well, but now let's try for't-hoy-hoy-hoy! Confound me for a gaping puppy, how I yawn!-Where shall I begin? At thy executorship?-Thou shalt have a double office of it: for I really think thou mayst send me a coffin and a shroud. I shall be ready for them by the time they can come down.

They would not have me write, Belford.-I must be ill indeed, when I can't write.

But thou seemest nettled, Jack! Is it because I was stung? It is not for two friends, any more than for man and wife, to be out of patience at one time.-What must be the consequence if they are ?-I am in no fighting mood just now: but as patient and passive as the chickens that are brought me in broth-for I am come to that already.

But I can tell thee, for all this, be thy own man, if thou wilt, as to the executorship, I will never suffer thee to expose my letters. They are too ingenuous by half to be seen. And I absolutely insist upon it, that, on receipt of this, thou burn them all.

But write on, however; and send me copies, if thou canst, of all that passes between our Charlotte and Miss Harlowe. I'll take no notice of what thou communicatest of that sort. I like not the people here the worse for their

generous offer to the lady. But you see she is as proud as implacable. There's no obliging her. She'd rather sell her clothes, than be beholden to anybody, although she would oblige by permitting the obligation.

Oh Lord! Oh Lord!-mortal ill-adieu, Jack!

I was forced to leave off, I was so ill, at this place. And what dost think? Why Lord M. brought the parson of the parish to pray by me; for his chaplain is at Oxford. I was lain down in my night-gown over my waistcoat, and in a doze and, when I opened my eyes, who should I see, but the parson kneeling on one side the bed; Lord M. on the other; Mrs. Greme, who had been sent for to tend me, as they call it, at the feet! God be thanked, my lord, said I, in an ecstasy-Where's Miss ?-for I supposed they were going to marry me.

They thought me delirious at first; and prayed louder and louder.

This roused me: off the bed I started; slid my feet into my slippers; put my hand in my waistcoat pocket, and pulled out thy letter with my beloved's meditation in it: my lord, Dr. Wright, Mrs. Greme, you have thought me a very wicked fellow : but, see! I can read you as good as you can read me.

They stared at one another. I gaped, and read, Poor mo-or-tals the cau-o-ause of their own-their own mis-ser-ry.

It is as suitable to my case, as to the lady's, as thou❜lt observe, if thou readest it again. At the passage where it is said, that when a man is chastened for sin, his beauty consumes away, I stepped to the glass: a poor figure, by Jupiter, cried I!—and they all praised and admired me; lifted up their hands and their eyes; and the doctor said, he always thought it impossible, that a man of my sense could be so wild as the world said I was. My lord chuckled for joy; congratulated me; and, thank my dear Miss Harlowe, I got high reputation among good, bad, and

indifferent. In short, I have established myself for ever with all here. But, O Belford, even this will not do! -I must leave off again.

A visit from the Montague sisters, led in by the hobbling peer, to congratulate my amendment and reformation both in one. What a lucky event this illness with this meditation in my pocket; for we were all to pieces before! Thus, when a boy, have I joined with a crowd coming out of church, and have been thought to have been there myself.

I am incensed at the insolence of the young Levite. Thou wilt highly oblige me, if thou'lt find him out, and send me his ears in thy next letter.

My beloved mistakes me, if she thinks I proposed her writing to me, as an alternative that should dispense with my attendance upon her. That it shall not do, nor did I intend it should, unless she had pleased me better in the contents of her letter than she has done. Bid her read again. I gave no such hopes. I would have been with her in spite of you both, by to-morrow, at farthest, had I not been laid by the heels thus, like a helpless mis

creant.

But I grow better and better every hour, I say: the doctor says not: but I am sure I know best: and I will soon be in London, depend on't. But say nothing of this to my dear, cruel, and implacable Miss Harlowe.

A-dieu-u, Ja-aack-what a gaping puppy (yawn! yaw-n! yaw-n!)

Thy

LOVELACE!

MR. BELFORD TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

Monday, August 14. AM extremely concerned for thy illness. I should be very sorry to lose thee. Yet, if thou diest so soon, I could wish, from my soul, it had been before the beginning of last April: and this as well for