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LETTER LXXVI.

MR. WYERLEY TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE.

Wednesday, Aug. 23.

DEAREST MADAM, You will be surprised to find renewed, at this distance of time, an address so positively, though so politely discouraged: but, however it be received, I must renew it. Every body has heard, that you have been vilely treated by a man, who, to treat you ill, must be the vilest of men. Every body knows your just resentment of his base treatment: that you are determined never to be reconciled to him: and that you persist in these sentiments against all the entreaties of his noble relations, against all the prayers and repentance of his ignoble self. And all the world that have the honour to know you, or have heard of him, applaud your resolution, as worthy of yourself; worthy of your virtue, and of that strict honour which was always attributed to you by every one who spoke of you.

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But, madam, were all the world to have been of a different opinion, it could never have altered mine. ever loved you: I ever must love you. Yet have I endeavoured to resign to my hard fate. When I had so many ways, in vain, sought to move you in my favour, I sat down seemingly contented. I even wrote to you, that I would sit down contented. And I endeavoured to make all my friends and companions think I was. But nobody knows what pangs this self-denial cost me! In vain did the chase, in vain did travel, in vain did lively company offer themselves, and were embraced in their turn: with redoubled force did my passion for you renew my unhappiness, when I looked into myself, into my own heart; for there did your charming image sit enthroned and you engrossed me all.

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I truly deplore those misfortunes, and those sufferings, for your own sake! which, nevertheless, encourage me to renew my bold hope. I know not particulars. I dare not inquire after them; because my sufferings would be increased with the knowledge of what yours have been. I therefore desire not to know more than what common report wounds my ears with; and what is given me to know, by your absence from your cruel family, and from the sacred place, where I, among numbers of your rejected admirers, used to be twice a week sure to behold you doing credit to that service of which your example gave me the highest notions. But whatever be those misfortunes, of whatsoever nature those sufferings, I shall bless the occasion for my own sake, (though for yours curse the author of them) if they may give me the happiness to know, that this my renewed address may not be absolutely rejected. Only give me hope, that it may one day meet with encouragement, if in the interim nothing happen, either in my morals or behaviour, to give you fresh offence. Give me but hope of this-not absolutely to reject me is all the hope I ask for ; and I will love you, if possible, still more than I ever loved you-and that for your sufferings; for well you deserve to be loved, even to adoration, who can for honour's and for virtue's sake, subdue a passion which common spirits [I speak by cruel experience] find invincible; and this at a time when the black offender kneels and supplicates, as I am well assured he does, (all his friends likewise supplicating for him) to be forgiven.

That you cannot forgive him, not forgive him so as to receive him again into favour, is no wonder. His offence is against virtue: that is a part of your essence. What magnanimity is this! How just to yourself, and to your spotless character! Is it any

merit to admire more than ever a lady who can so exaltedly distinguish? It is not. I cannot plead it.

What hope have I left, may it be said, when my address was before rejected, now, that your sufferings, so nobly borne, have, with all good judges, exalted your character? Yet, madam, I have to pride myself in this, that while your friends (not looking upon you in the just light I do) persecute and banish you, while your estate is withheld from you, and threatened (as I know) to be withheld, as long as the chicaning law, or rather the chicaneries of its practisers, can keep it from you. While you are destitute of protection; every body standing aloof, either through fear of the injurer of one family, or of the hard-hearted of the other; I pride myself, I say, to stand forth, and offer my fortune, and my life, at your devotion. With a selfish hope, indeed: I should be too great an hypocrite not to own this! And I know how much you abhor insincerity.

But, whether you encourage that hope or not, accept my best services, I beseech you, madam : and be pleased to excuse me for a piece of honest art, which the nature of the case (doubting the honour of your notice otherwise) makes me choose to conclude with-it is this:

If I am to be still the most unhappy of men, let your pen by one line tell me so. If I am permitted to indulge a hope, however distant, your silence shall be deemed, by me, the happiest indication of it that you can give-except that still happier-(the happiest that can befal me) a signification that you will accept the tender of that life and fortune, which it would be my pride and my glory to sacrifice in your service, leaving the reward to yourself.

Be your determination as it may, I must for ever admire and love you. Nor will I ever change my condition, while you live, whether you change

yours or not: for, having once had the presumption to address you, I cannot stoop to think of any other woman: and this I solemnly declare in the presence of that God, whom I daily pray to bless and protect you, be your determination what it will with regard to, dearest madam,

You most devoted and ever affectionate
And faithful servant,

ALEXANDER WYERLEY.

SIR,

LETTER LXXVII.

MISS CL. HARLOWE TO ALEX. WYERLEY, ESQ. Saturday, Aug. 26. THE generosity of your purpose would have commanded not only my notice, but my thanks, although you had not given me the alternative you are pleased to call artful. And I do therefore give you my thanks for your kind letter.

At the time you distinguished me by your favourable opinion, I told you, sir, that my choice was the single life. And most truly did I tell you so.

When that was not permitted me, and I looked round upon the several gentlemen who had been proposed to me, and had reason to believe that there was not one of them against whose morals or principles there lay not some exception, it would not have been much to be wondered at, if FANCY had been allowed to give a preference, where JUDGMENT was at a loss to determine.

Far be it from me to say this with a design to upbraid you, sir, or to reflect upon you. I always wished you well. You had reason to think I did. You had the generosity to be pleased with the

frankness of my behaviour to you: as I had with that of yours to me: and I am sorry, very sorry, to be now told, that the acquiescence you obliged me with gave you so much pain.

Had the option I have mentioned been allowed me afterwards (as I not only wished but proposed) things had not happened that did happen. But there was a kind of fatality by which our whole family was impelled, as I may say; and which none of us were permitted to avoid. But this is a subject that cannot be dwelt upon.

As matters are, I have only to wish, for your own sake, that you will encourage and cultivate those good motions in your mind, to which many passages. in your kind and generous letter, now before me, must be owing. Depend upon it, sir, that such motions, wrought into habit, will yield you pleasure at a time when nothing else can. And at present, shining out in your actions and conversation, will commend you to the worthiest of our sex. For, sir, the man who is good upon choice, as well as by education, has that quality in himself, which ennobles the human race, and without which the most dignified by birth or rank are ignoble.

As to the resolution you so solemnly make, not to marry while I live, I should be concerned at it, were I not morally sure, that you may keep it, and yet not be detrimented by it: since a few, a very few days, will convince you, that I am got above all human dependence; and that there is no need of that protection and favour, which you so generously offer to, sir,

Your obliged well-wisher, and humble servant,
CL. HARLOWE.

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