Clarissa, Volume 6 - The History Of A Young Lady

Clarissa, Volume 6 − The History Of A Young Lady 139
I have been misinformed, you say, as to my principal relations being at my uncle Harlowe's. The day, you say,
was not kept. Nor have my brother and Mr. Solmes−−Astonishing!−−What complicated wickedness has this
wretched man to answer for!−−Were I to tell you, you would hardly believe that there could have been such a
heart in man.−−
But one day you may know the whole story!−−At present I have neither inclination nor words−−O my
bursting heart!−−Yet a happy, a wished relief!−−Were you present my tears would supply the rest!
***
I resume my pen!
And so you fear no letter will be received from me. But DON'T grieve to tell me so! I expect every thing
bad−−and such is my distress, that had you not bid me hope for mercy from the throne of mercy, I should
have been afraid that my father's dreadful curse would be completed with regard to both worlds.
For here, an additional misfortune!−−In a fit of phrensical heedlessness, I sent a letter to my beloved Miss
Howe, without recollecting her private address; and it has fallen into her angry mother's hands: and so that
dear friend perhaps has anew incurred displeasure on my account. And here too your worthy son is ill; and my
poor Hannah, you think, cannot come to me−−O my dear Mrs. Norton, will you, can you censure those whose
resentments against me Heaven seems to approve of? and will you acquit her whom that condemns?
Yet you bid me not despond.−−I will not, if I can help it. And, indeed, most seasonable consolation has your
kind letter afforded me.−−Yet to God Almighty do I appeal, to avenge my wrongs, and vindicate my
inno−−−−
But hushed be my stormy passions!−−Have I not but this moment said that your letter gave me
consolation?−−May those be forgiven who hinder my father from forgiving me!−−and this, as to them, shall
be the harshest thing that shall drop from my pen.
But although your son should recover, I charge you, my dear Mrs. Norton, that you do not think of coming to
me. I don't know still but your mediation with my mother (although at present your interposition would be so
little attended to) may be of use to procure me the revocation of that most dreadful part of my father's curse,
which only remains to be fulfilled. The voice of Nature must at last be heard in my favour, surely. It will only
plead at first to my friends in the still conscious plaintiveness of a young and unhardened beggar. But it will
grow more clamorous when I have the courage to be so, and shall demand, perhaps, the paternal protection
from farther ruin; and that forgiveness, which those will be little entitled to expect, for their own faults, who
shall interpose to have it refused to me, for an accidental, not a premeditated error: and which, but for them, I
had never fallen into.
But again, impatiency, founded perhaps on self−partiality, that strange misleader! prevails.
Let me briefly say, that it is necessary to my present and future hopes that you keep well with my family. And
moreover, should you come, I may be traced out by that means by the most abandoned of men. Say not then
that you think you ought to come up to me, let it be taken as it will:−− For my sake, let me repeat, (were my
foster−brother recovered, as I hope he is,) you must not come. Nor can I want your advice, while I can write,
and you can answer me. And write I will as often as I stand in need of your counsel.
Then the people I am now with seem to be both honest and humane: and there is in the same house a
widow−lodger, of low fortunes, but of great merit:−−almost such another serious and good woman as the dear
one to whom I am now writing; who has, as she says, given over all other thoughts of the world but such as
should assist her to leave it happily. −−How suitable to my own views!−−There seems to be a comfortable