Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 7

by Samuel Richardson

  LETTER XI

  MISS HOWE, TO MISS CHARLOTTE MONTAGUETUESDAY MORN. JULY 18.

  MADAM,

  I take the liberty to write to you, by this special messenger. In thephrensy of my soul I write to you, to demand of you, and of any of yourfamily who can tell news of my beloved friend, who, I doubt, has beenspirited away by the base arts of one of the blackest--O help me to aname black enough to call him by! Her piety is proof againstself-attempts. It must, it must be he, the only wretch, who could injuresuch an innocent; and now--who knows what he has done with her!

  If I have patience, I will give you the occasion of this distractedvehemence.

  I wrote to her the very moment you and your sister left me. But beingunable to procure a special messenger, as I intended, was forced to sendby the post. I urged her, [you know I promised that I would: I urgedher,] with earnestness, to comply with the desires of all your family.Having no answer, I wrote again on Sunday night; and sent it by aparticular hand, who travelled all night; chiding her for keeping a heartso impatient as mine in such cruel suspense, upon a matter of so muchimportance to her, and therefore to me. And very angry I was with her inmy mind.

  But, judge my astonishment, my distraction, when last night, themessenger, returning post-haste, brought me word, that she had not beenheard of since Friday morning! and that a letter lay for her at herlodgings, which came by the post; and must be mine!

  She went out about six that morning; only intending, as they believe, togo to morning-prayers at Covent-Garden church, just by her lodgings, asshe had done divers times before--Went on foot!--Left word she should beback in an hour!--Very poorly in health!

  Lord, have mercy upon me! What shall I do!--I was a distracted creatureall last night!

  O Madam! you know not how I love her!--My own soul is not dearer to me,than my Clarissa Harlowe!--Nay! she is my soul--for I now have none--onlya miserable one, however--for she was the joy, the stay, the prop of mylife. Never woman loved woman as we love one another. It is impossibleto tell you half her excellencies. It was my glory and my pride, that Iwas capable of so fervent a love of so pure and matchless a creature.--But now--who knows, whether the dear injured has not all her woes, herundeserved woes, completed in death; or is not reserved for a worse fate!--This I leave to your inquiry--for--your--[shall I call the man----your?] relation I understand is still with you.

  Surely, my good Ladies, you were well authorized in the proposals youmade in presence of my mother!--Surely he dare not abuse your confidence,and the confidence of your noble relations! I make no apology for givingyou this trouble, nor for desiring you to favour with a line, by thismessenger,

  Your almost distractedANNA HOWE.