his sagacity and learning: but bid her not say any thing to the lady about him, or his inquiries. And I, for very different reasons, enjoined the same thing.

I am glad, however, for her peace of mind's sake, that they begin to think it behoves them to inquire about hér.

LETTER XXXIX.

MR. BELFORD TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

Friday, Aug. 11.

Mr. Belford acquaints his friend with the generosity of Lord M. and the ladies of his family; and with the lady's grateful sentiments upon the occasion. He says, that in hopes to avoid the pain of seeing him [Mr. Lovelace], she intends to answer his letter of the 7th, though much against her inclination. 'She took great notice, says Mr. Belford, of that passage in yours, which makes necessary to the divine pardon, the forgiveness of a person causelessly injured.

'Her grandfather, I find, has enabled her, at eighteen years of age, to make her will, and to devise great part of his estate to whom she pleases of the family, and the rest out of it (if she die single) at her own discretion; and this to create respect to her; as he apprehended that she would be envied; and she now resolves to set about making her will directly.'

Mr. Belford insists upon the promise he had made him, not to molest the lady: and gives him the contents of her answer to Lord M. and the ladies of his lordship's family, declining their generous offers. See Letter xxxvii.

LETTER XL.

MISS CL. HARLOWE TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. Friday, Aug. 11.

It is a cruel alternative, to be either forced to see you, or to write to you. But a will of my own has been long denied me: and to avoid a greater evil, nay, now I may say, the greatest, I write.

Were I capable of disguising or concealing my real sentiments, I might safely, I dare say, give you the remote hope you request, and yet keep all my resolutions. But I must tell you, sir, (it becomes my character to tell you) that, were I to live more years than perhaps I may weeks, and there were not another man in the world, I could not, I would not be yours.

There is no merit in performing a duty.

Religion enjoins me, not only to forgive injuries, but to return good for evil. It is all my consolation, and I bless God for giving me that, that I am now in such a state of mind with regard to you, that I can cheerfully obey its dictates. And accordingly I tell you, that, wherever you go, I wish you happy. And in this I mean to include every good wish.

And now having, with great reluctance I own, complied with one of your compulsatory alternatives, I expect the fruits of it.

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER XLI.

MR. JOHN HARLOWE TO MISS CL. HARLOWE. [In answer to hers to her mother. See No. xxxii.]

Monday, Aug. 7.

POOR UNGRATEFUL NAUGHTY KINSWOMAN,

YOUR mother neither caring, nor being permitted to write, I am desired to set pen to paper, though I had resolved against it.

And so I am to tell you, that your letters, joined to the occasion of them, almost break the hearts of us all.

Were we sure you had seen your folly, and were truly penitent, and, at the same time, that you were so very ill as you pretend, I know not what might be done for you. But we are all acquainted with your moving ways, when you want to carry a point.

Unhappy girl! how miserable have you made us all! We, who used to visit with so much pleasure, now cannot endure to look upon one another.

If you had not known, upon an hundred occasions, how dear you once was to us, you might judge of it now, were you to know how much your. folly has unhinged us all.

Naughty, naughty girl! You see the fruits of preferring a rake and libertine to a man of sobriety and morals. Against full warning, against better knowledge. And such a modest creature too, as you were! How could you think of such an unworthy preference !

Your mother can't ask, and your sister knows not in modesty how to ask; and so I ask you, If you have any reason to think yourself with child by this villain? You must answer this, and answer it truly, before any thing can be resolved upon about you.

VOL. VII.

You may well be touched with a deep remorse for your misdeeds. Could I ever have thought that my doating-piece, as every one called you, would have done thus? To be sure I loved you too well. But that is over now. Yet, though I will not pretend to answer for any body but myself, for my own part I say, God forgive you! And this is all from Your afflicted uncle,

JOHN HARLOWE.

The following MEDITATION was stitched to the bottom of this letter, with black silk.

MEDITATION.

O that thou wouldst hide me in the grave! That thou wouldst keep me secret, till thy wrath be past! My face is foul with weeping; and on my eye-lid is the shadow of death.

My friends scorn me; but mine eye poureth out tears unto God.

A dreadful sound is in my ears: in prosperity the destroyer came upon me!

I have sinned! What shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men! Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee; so that I am a burthen to myself!

When I say, my bed shall comfort me; my couch shall ease my complaint;

Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions;

So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than life.

Ilothe it! I would not live alway!-Let me alone; for my days are vanity!

He hath made me a bye-word of the people; and aforetime I was as a tabret.

My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.

When I looked for good, then evil came unto me; and when I waited for light, then came darkness. And where now is my hope?

Yet all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.

LETTER XLII.

MISS CL. HARLOWE TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ.

HONOURED SIR,

Thursday, Aug. 10.

It was an act of charity I begged: only for a last blessing, that I might die in peace. I ask not to be received again, as my severe sister [O! that I had not written to her!] is pleased to say, is my view. Let that grace be denied me when I do.

I could not look forward to my last scene with comfort, without seeking, at least, to obtain the blessing I petitioned for; and that with a contrition so deep, that I deserved not, were it known, to be turned over from the tender nature of a mother, to the upbraiding pen of an uncle! and to be wounded by a cruel question, put by him in a shocking manner; and which a little, a very little time, will better answer than I can: for I am not either a hardened or shameless creature: if I were, I should not have been so solicitous to obtain the favour I sued for.

And permit me to say, that I asked it as well for my father and mother's sake, as for my own; for I am sure, they at least will be uneasy, after I am gone, that they refused it to me.

I should still be glad to have theirs and yours, sir, and all your blessings, and your prayers: but denied in such a manner, I will not presume again to ask it: relying entirely on the Almighty's; which