I am just returned from visiting the lady, and thanking her in person for
the honour she has done me; and assuring her, if called to the sacred
trust, of the utmost fidelity and exactness.
I found her very ill. I took notice of it. She said, she had received a
second hard-hearted letter from her sister; and she had been writing a
letter (and that on her knees) directly to her mother; which, before, she
had not had the courage to do. It was for a last blessing and
forgiveness. No wonder, she said, that I saw her affected. Now that I
had accepted of the last charitable office for her, (for which, as well
as for complying with her other request, she thanked me,) I should one
day have all these letters before me: and could she have a kind one in
return to that she had been now writing, to counterbalance the unkind one
she had from her sister, she might be induced to show me both together--
otherwise, for her sister's sake, it were no matter how few saw the poor
Bella's letter.
I knew she would be displeased if I had censured the cruelty of her
relations: I therefore only said, that surely she must have enemies, who
hoped to find their account in keeping up the resentments of her friends
against her.
It may be so, Mr. Belford, said she: the unhappy never want enemies. One
fault, wilfully committed, authorizes the imputation of many more. Where
the ear is opened to accusations, accusers will not be wanting; and every
one will officiously come with stories against a disgraced child, where
nothing dare be said in her favour. I should have been wise in time, and
not have needed to be convinced, by my own misfortunes, of the truth of
what common experience daily demonstrates. Mr. Lovelace's baseness, my
father's inflexibility, my sister's reproaches, are the natural
consequences of my own rashness; so I must make the best of my hard lot.
Only, as these consequences follow one another so closely, while they are
new, how can I help being anew affected?
I asked, if a letter written by myself, by her doctor or apothecary, to
any of her friends, representing her low state of health, and great
humility, would be acceptable? or if a journey to any of them would be of
service, I would gladly undertake it in person, and strictly conform to
her orders, to whomsoever she should direct me to apply.
She earnestly desired that nothing of this sort might be attempted,
especially without her knowledge and consent. Miss Howe, she said, had
done harm by her kindly-intended zeal; and if there were room to expect
favour by mediation, she had ready at hand a kind friend, Mrs. Norton,
who for piety and prudence had few equals; and who would let slip no
opportunity to endeavour to do her service.
I let her know that I was going out of town till Monday: she wished me
pleasure; and said she should be glad to see me on my return.
Adieu!