MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.
SAT. NIGHT.
Your servant gives me a dreadful account of your raving unmanageableness.
I wonder not at it. But as nothing violent is lasting, I dare say that
your habitual gaiety of heart will quickly get the better of your
phrensy; and the rather do I judge so, as your fits are of the raving
kind, (suitable to your natural impetuosity,) and not of that melancholy
species which seizes slower souls.
For this reason I will proceed in writing to you, that my narrative may
not be broken by your discomposure; and that the contents of it may find
you, and help you to reflection, when you shall be restored.
Harry is returned from carrying the posthumous letters to the family, and
to Miss Howe; and that of the Colonel, which acquaints James Harlowe with
his sister's death, and with her desire to be interred near her
grandfather.
Harry was not admitted into the presence of any of the family. They were
all assembled together, it seems, at Harlowe-place, on occasion of the
Colonel's letter, which informed them of the lady's dangerous way;* and
were comforting themselves, as Harry was told, with hopes that Mr. Morden
had made the worst of her state, in order to quicken their resolutions.
* See the beginning of Letter II.
It is easy to judge what must be their grief and surprise on receiving
the fatal news which the letters Harry sent in to them communicated.
He staid there long enough to find the whole house in confusion; the
servants running different ways; lamenting and wringing their hands as
they ran; the female servants particularly; as if somebody (poor Mrs.
Harlowe, no doubt; and perhaps Mrs. Hervey too) were in fits.
Every one was in such disorder, that he could get no commands, nor obtain
any notice of himself. The servants seemed more inclined to execrate
than welcome him--O master!--O young man! cried three or four together,
what dismal tidings have you brought?--They helped him, at the very first
word, to his horse; which, with great civility, they had put up on his
arrival; and he went to an inn, and pursued on foot his way to Mrs.
Norton's; and finding her come to town, left the letter he carried down
for her with her son, (a fine youth,) who, when he heard the fatal news,
burst out into a flood of tears--first lamenting the lady's death, and
then crying out, What--what would become of his poor mother!--How would
she support herself, when she should find, on her arrival in town, that
the dear lady, who was so deservedly the darling of her heart, was no
more!
He proceeded to Miss Howe's with the letter for her. That lady, he was
told, had just given orders for a young man, a tenant's son, to post to
London, and bring her news of her dear friend's condition, and whether
she should herself be encouraged, by an account of her being still alive,
to make her a visit; every thing being ordered to be in readiness for her
going up on his return with the news she wished and prayed for with the
utmost impatience. And Harry was just in time to prevent the man's
setting out.
He had the precaution to desire to speak with Miss Howe's woman or maid,
and communicated to her the fatal tidings, that she might break them to
her young lady. The maid herself was so affected, that her old lady
(who, Harry said, seemed to be every where at once) came to see what
ailed her! and was herself so struck with the communication, that she
was forced to sit down in a chair.--O the sweet creature! said she, and
is it come to this?--O my poor Nancy!--How shall I be able to break the
matter to my Nancy?
Mr. Hickman was in the house. He hastened in to comfort the old lady--
but he could not restrain his own tears. He feared, he said, when he was
last in town, that this sad event would soon happen; but little thought
it would be so very soon!--But she is happy, I am sure, said the good
gentleman.
Mrs. Howe, when a little recovered, went up, in order to break the news
to her daughter. She took the letter, and her salts in her hand. And
they had occasion for the latter. For the housekeeper soon came hurrying
down into the kitchen, her face overspread with tears--her young mistress
had fainted away, she said--nor did she wonder at it--never did there
live a lady more deserving of general admiration and lamentation, than
Miss Clarissa Harlowe! and never was there a stronger friendship
dissolved by death than between her young lady and her.
She hurried, with a lighted wax candle, and with feathers, to burn under
the nose of her young mistress; which showed that she continued in fits.
Mr. Hickman, afterwards, with his usual humanity, directed that Harry
should be taken care of all night; it being then the close of day. He
asked him after my health. He expressed himself excessively afflicted,
as well for the death of the most excellent of women, as for the just
grief of the lady whom he so passionately loves. But he called the
departed lady an Angel of Light. We dreaded, said he, (tell your
master,) to read the letter sent--but we needed not--'tis a blessed
letter! written by a blessed hand!--But the consolation she aims to give,
will for the present heighten the sense we all shall have of the loss of
so excellent a creature! Tell Mr. Belford, that I thank God I am not the
man who had the unmerited honour to call himself her brother.
I know how terribly this great catastrophe (as I may call it, since so
many persons are interested in it) affects thee. I should have been glad
to have had particulars of the distress which the first communication of
it must have given to the Harlowes. Yet who but must pity the unhappy
mother?
The answer which James Harlowe returned to Colonel Morden's letter of
notification of his sister's death, and to her request as to her
interment, will give a faint idea of what their concern must be. Here
follows a copy of it:
TO WILLIAM MORDEN, ESQ.
SATURDAY, SEPT. 9.