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Clarissa, Volume 6 - The History Of A Young Lady

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<strong>Clarissa</strong>, <strong>Volume</strong> 6 − <strong>The</strong> <strong>History</strong> <strong>Of</strong> A <strong>Young</strong> <strong>Lady</strong> 118<br />

Honoured Sir, Your most obliged, humble servant, PATRICK M'DONALD.<br />

LETTER XLVII<br />

MR. MOWBRAY, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, TWELVE O'CLOCK.<br />

DEAR LOVELACE,<br />

I have plaguy news to acquaint thee with. Miss Harlowe is gone off!−− Quite gone, by soul!−−I have no time<br />

for particulars, your servant being gone off. But if I had, we are not yet come to the bottom of the matter. <strong>The</strong><br />

ladies here are all blubbering like devills, accusing one another most confoundedly: whilst Belton and I damn<br />

them all together in thy name.<br />

If thou shouldst hear that thy fellow Will. is taken dead out of some horse−pond, and Dorcas cut down from<br />

her bed's teaster, from dangling in her own garters, be not surprised. Here's the devil to pay. Nobody serene<br />

but Jack Belford, who is taking minutes of examinations, accusations, and confessions, with the significant air<br />

of a Middlesex Justice; and intends to write at large all particulars, I suppose.<br />

I heartily condole with thee: so does Belton. But it may turn out for the best: for she is gone away with thy<br />

marks, I understand. A foolish little devill! Where will she mend herself? for nobody will look upon her. And<br />

they tell me that thou wouldst certainly have married her, had she staid. But I know thee better.<br />

Dear Bobby, adieu. If Lord M. will die now, to comfort thee for this loss, what a seasonable exit would he<br />

make! Let's have a letter from thee. Pr'ythee do. Thou can'st write devill−like to Belford, who shews us<br />

nothing at all. Thine heartily,<br />

RD. MOWBRAY.<br />

LETTER XLVIII<br />

MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY, JUNE 29.<br />

Thou hast heard from M'Donald and Mowbray the news. Bad or good, I know not which thou'lt deem it. I<br />

only wish I could have given thee joy upon the same account, before the unhappy lady was seduced from<br />

Hampstead; for then of what an ungrateful villany hadst thou been spared the perpetration, which now thou<br />

hast to answer for!<br />

I came to town purely to serve thee with her, expecting that thy next would satisfy me that I might endeavour<br />

it without dishonour. And at first when I found her gone, I half pitied thee; for now wilt thou be inevitably<br />

blown up: and in what an execrable light wilt thou appear to all the world!−−Poor Lovelace! caught in thy<br />

own snares! thy punishment is but beginning.<br />

But to my narrative: for I suppose thou expectest all particulars from me, since Mowbray has informed thee<br />

that I have been collecting them.<br />

'<strong>The</strong> noble exertion of spirit she has made on Friday night, had, it seems, greatly disordered her; insomuch that<br />

she was not visible till Saturday evening; when Mabell saw her; and she seemed to be very ill: but on Sunday<br />

morning, having dressed herself, as if designing to go to church, she ordered Mabell to get her a coach to the<br />

door.<br />

'<strong>The</strong> wench told her, She was to obey her in every thing but the calling of a coach or chair, or in relation to<br />

letters.

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