MY DEAREST FRIEND,

We are at length returned to our own home. I had intended to wait on you

in London: but my mother is very ill--Alas! my dear, she is very ill

indeed--and you are likewise very ill--I see that by your's of the 25th--

What shall I do, if I lose two such near, and dear, and tender friends?

She was taken ill yesterday at our last stage in our return home--and has

a violent surfeit and fever, and the doctors are doubtful about her.

If she should die, how will all my pertnesses to her fly in my face!--

Why, why, did I ever vex her? She says I have been all duty and

obedience!--She kindly forgets all my faults, and remembers every thing I

have been so happy as to oblige her in. And this cuts me to the heart.

I see, I see, my dear, that you are very bad--and I cannot bear it. Do,

my beloved Miss Harlowe, if you can be better, do, for my sake, be

better; and send me word of it. Let the bearer bring me a line. Be sure

you send me a line. If I lose you, my more than sister, and lose my

mother, I shall distrust my own conduct, and will not marry. And why

should I?--Creeping, cringing in courtship!--O my dear, these men are a

vile race of reptiles in our day, and mere bears in their own. See in

Lovelace all that is desirable in figure, in birth, and in fortune: but

in his heart a devil!--See in Hickman--Indeed, my dear, I cannot tell

what any body can see in Hickman, to be always preaching in his favour.

And is it to be expected that I, who could hardly bear control from a

mother, should take it from a husband?--from one too, who has neither

more wit, nor more understanding, than myself? yet he to be my

instructor!--So he will, I suppose; but more by the insolence of his will

than by the merit of his counsel. It is in vain to think of it. I

cannot be a wife to any man breathing whom I at present know. This I the

rather mention now, because, on my mother's danger, I know you will be

for pressing me the sooner to throw myself into another sort of

protection, should I be deprived of her. But no more of this subject, or

indeed of any other; for I am obliged to attend my mamma, who cannot bear

me out of her sight.

***

Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8 · 第 121 / 168 题