Clarissa Harlowe, or the History of a Young Lady - Volume 3 — Letter I

LETTER I

MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TUESDAY, NINE O'CLOCK.

I write, because you enjoin me to do so.

Love you still!

--How can I help it, if I would?

You may believe how I stand aghast, your letter communicating the first news--Good God of Heaven and Earth!

--But what shall I say?

--I am all impatient for particulars.

Lord have mercy upon me!

--But can it be?

My mother will indeed be astonished!

--How can I tell it her!

--It was but last night (upon some jealousies put into her head by your foolish uncle) that I assured her, and this upon the strength of your own assurances, that neither man nor devil would be able to induce you to take a step that was in the least derogatory to the most punctilious honour.

But, once more, can it be?

What woman at this rate!

--But, God preserve you!

Let nothing escape you in your letters.

Direct them for me, however, to Mrs. Knolly's, till further notice.

***** Observe, my dear, that I don't blame you by all this--Your relations only are in fault!

--Yet how you came to change your mind is the surprising thing.

How to break it to my mother, I know not.

Yet if she hear it first from any other, and find I knew it before, she will believe it to be my connivance!

--Yet, as I hope to live, I know not how to break it to her.

But this is teasing you.

--I am sure, without intention.

Let me now repeat my former advice--If you are not married by this time, be sure delay not the ceremony.

Since things are as they are, I wish it were thought that you were privately married before you went away.

If these men plead AUTHORITY to our pain, when we are theirs--Why should we not, in such a case as this, make some good out of the hated word, for our reputation, when we are induced to violate a more natural one?

Your brother and sister [that vexes me almost as much as any thing!

] have now their ends.

Now, I suppose, will go forward alterations of wills, and such-like spiteful doings.

***** Miss Lloyd and Miss Biddulph this moment send up their names.

They are out of breath, Kitty says, to speak to me--easy to guess their errand;--I must see my mother, before I see them.

I have no way but to shew her your letter to clear myself.

I shall not be able to say a word, till she has run herself out of her first breath.

--Forgive me, my dear--surprise makes me write thus.

If your messenger did not wait, and were not those young ladies below, I could write it over again, for fear of afflicting you.

I send what you write for.

If there be any thing else you want that is in my power, command without reserve Your ever affectionate ANNA HOWE.