We are such bad company here to one another, that it is some relief to
retire and write.
I was summoned to breakfast about half an hour after nine. Slowly did
the mournful congress meet. Each, lifelessly and spiritless, took our
places, with swoln eyes, inquiring, without expecting any tolerable
account, how each had rested.
The sorrowing mother gave for answer, that she should never more know
what rest was.
By the time we were well seated, the bell ringing, the outward gate
opening, a chariot rattling over the pavement of the court-yard, put them
into emotion.
I left them; and was just time enough to give Miss Howe my hand as she
alighted: her maid in tears remaining in the chariot.
I think you told me, Sir, you never saw Miss Howe. She is a fine,
graceful young lady. A fixed melancholy on her whole aspect, overclouded
a vivacity and fire, which, nevertheless, darted now-and-then through the
awful gloom. I shall ever respect her for her love to my dear cousin.
Never did I think, said she, as she gave me her hand, to enter more these
doors: but, living or dead, Clarissa brings me after her any where!
She entered with me the little parlour; and seeing the coffin, withdrew
her hand from mine, and with impatience pushed aside the lid. As
impatiently she removed the face-cloth. In a wild air, she clasped her
uplifted hands together; and now looked upon the corpse, now up to
Heaven, as if appealing to that. Her bosom heaved and fluttered
discernible through her handkerchief, and at last she broke silence:--O
Sir!--See you not here!--the glory of her sex?--Thus by the most
villanous of yours--thus--laid low!
O my blessed Friend!--said she--My sweet Companion!--My lovely Monitress!
--kissing her lips at every tender appellation. And is this all!--Is it
all of my CLARISSA'S story!
Then, after a short pause, and a profound sigh, she turned to me, and
then to her breathless friend. But is she, can she be, really dead!--O
no!--She only sleeps.--Awake, my beloved Friend! My sweet clay-cold
Friend, awake: let thy Anna Howe revive thee; by her warm breath revive
thee, my dear creature! And, kissing her again, Let my warm lips animate
thy cold ones!
Then, sighing again, as from the bottom of her heart, and with an air, as
if disappointed that she answered not, And can such perfection end thus!
--And art thou really and indeed flown from thine Anna Howe!--O my unkind
CLARISSA!
She was silent a few moments, and then, seeming to recover herself, she
turned to me--Forgive, forgive, Mr. Morden, this wild phrensy!--I am
myself!--I never shall be!--You knew not the excellence, no, not half the
excellence, that is thus laid low!--Repeating, This cannot, surely, be
all of my CLARISSA'S story!
Again pausing, One tear, my beloved friend, didst thou allow me!--But
this dumb sorrow!--O for a tear to ease my full-swoln heart that is just
bursting!--
But why, Sir, why, Mr. Morden, was she sent hither? Why not to me?--She
has no father, no mother, no relation; no, not one!--They had all
renounced her. I was her sympathizing friend--And had not I the best
right to my dear creature's remains?--And must names, without nature, be
preferred to such a love as mine?
Again she kissed her lips, each cheek, her forehead;--and sighed as if
her heart would break--
But why, why, said she, was I withheld from seeing my dearest, dear
friend, and too easily persuaded to delay, the friendly visit that my
heart panted after; what pain will this reflection give me!--O my blessed
Friend! Who knows, who knows, had I come in time, what my cordial
comfortings might have done for thee!--But--looking round her, as if she
apprehended seeing some of the family--One more kiss, my Angel, my
Friend, my ever-to-be-regretted, lost Companion! And let me fly this
hated house, which I never loved but for thy sake!--Adieu then, my
dearest CLARISSA!--Thou art happy, I doubt not, as thou assuredst me in
thy last letter!--O may we meet, and rejoice together, where no villanous
Lovelaces, no hard-hearted relations, will ever shock our innocence, or
ruffle our felicity!
Again she was silent, unable to go, though seeming to intend it:
struggling, as it were, with her grief, and heaving with anguish. At
last, happily, a flood of tears gushed from her eyes--Now!--Now!--said
she, shall I--shall I--be easier. But for this kindly relief, my heart
would have burst asunder--more, many more tears than these are due to my
CLARISSA, whose counsel has done for me what mine could not do for her!--
But why, looking earnestly upon her, her hands clasped and lifted up--But
why do I thus lament the HAPPY? And that thou art so, is my comfort. It
is, it is, my dear creature! kissing her again.
Excuse me, Sir, [turning to me, who was as much moved as herself,] I
loved the dear creature, as never woman loved another. Excuse my frantic
grief. How has the glory of her sex fallen a victim to villany and to
hard-heartedness!