TO HIS DEAR NIECE, MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE
WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 6.
We were greatly grieved, my beloved Miss Clary, at your fault; but we are
still more, if possible, to hear you are so very ill; and we are sorry
things have been carried so far. We know your talents, my dear, and how
movingly you could write, whenever you pleased; so that nobody could ever
deny you any thing; and, believing you depended on your pen, and little
thinking you were so ill, and that you lived so regular a life, and are
so truly penitent, are most troubled every one of us, your brother and
all, for being so severe. Forgive my part in it, my dearest Clary. I
am your second papa, you know. And you used to love me.
I hope you'll soon be able to come down, and, after a while, when your
indulgent parents can spare you, that you will come to me for a whole
month, and rejoice my heart, as you used to do. But if, through illness,
you cannot so soon come down as we wish, I will go up to you; for I long
to see you. I never more longed to see you in my life; and you was
always the darling of my heart, you know.
My brother Antony desires his hearty commendations to you, and joins with
me in the tenderest assurance, that all shall be well, and, if possible,
better than ever; for we now have been so long without you, that we know
the miss of you, and even hunger and thirst, as I may say, to see you,
and to take you once more to our hearts; whence indeed you was never
banished so far as our concern for the unhappy step made us think and you
believe you were. Your sister and brother both talk of seeing you in
town; so does my dear sister, your indulgent mother.
God restore your health, if it be his will; else, I know not what will
become of
Your truly loving uncle, and second papa,
JOHN HARLOWE.