I am afraid I shall not be able to write all that is upon my mind to say
to you upon the subject of your last. Yet I will try.
As to my friends, and as to the sad breakfasting, I cannot help being
afflicted for them. What, alas! has not my mother, in particular,
suffered by my rashness!--Yet to allow so much for a son!--so little for
a daughter!--But all now will soon be over, as to me. I hope they will
bury all their resentments in my grave.
As to your advice, in relation to Mr. Belford, let me only say, that the
unhappy reprobation I have met with, and my short time, must be my
apology now.--I wish I could have written to my mother and my uncles as
you advise. And yet, favours come so slowly from them.
The granting of one request only now remains as a desirable one from
them. Which nevertheless, when granted, I shall not be sensible of. It
is that they will be pleased to permit my remains to be laid with those
of my ancestors--placed at the feet of my dear grandfather, as I have
mentioned in my will. This, however, as they please. For, after all,
this vile body ought not so much to engage my cares. It is a weakness--
but let it be called a natural weakness, and I shall be excused;
especially when a reverential gratitude shall be known to be the
foundation of it. You know, my dear woman, how my grandfather loved me.
And you know how much I honoured him, and that from my very infancy to
the hour of his death. How often since have I wished, that he had not
loved me so well!
I wish not now, at the writing of this, to see even my cousin Morden.
O, my blessed woman! My dear maternal friend! I am entering upon a
better tour than to France or Italy either!--or even than to settle at my
once-beloved Dairy-house!--All these prospects and pleasures, which used
to be so agreeable to me in health, how poor seem they to me now!--
Indeed, indeed, my dear Mamma Norton, I shall be happy! I know I shall!
--I have charming forebodings of happiness already!--Tell all my dear
friends, for their comfort, that I shall!--Who would not bear the
punishments I have borne, to have the prospects and assurances I rejoice
in!--Assurances I might not have had, were my own wishes to have been
granted to me!
Neither do I want to see even you, my dear Mrs. Norton. Nevertheless I
must, in justice to my own gratitude, declare, that there was a time,
could you have been permitted to come, without incurring displeasure from
those whose esteem it is necessary for you to cultivate and preserve,
that your presence and comfortings would have been balm to my wounded
mind. But were you now, even by consent, and with reconciliatory
tidings, to come, it would but add to your grief; and the sight of one I
so dearly love, so happily fraught with good news, might but draw me back
to wishes I have had great struggles to get above. And let me tell you
for your comfort, that I have not left undone any thing that ought to be
done, either respecting mind or person; no, not to the minutest
preparation: so that nothing is left for you to do for me. Every one has
her direction as to the last offices.--And my desk, that I now write upon
--O my dearest Mrs. Norton, all is provided!--All is ready! And all will
be as decent as it should be!
And pray let my Miss Howe know, that by the time you will receive this,
and she your signification of the contents of it, will, in all
probability, be too late for her to do me the inestimable favour, as I
should once have thought it, to see me. God will have no rivals in the
hearts of those he sanctifies. By various methods he deadens all other
sensations, or rather absorbs them all in the love of him.
I shall nevertheless love you, my Mamma Norton, and my Miss Howe, whose
love to me has passed the love of woman, to my latest hour!--But yet, I
am now above the quick sense of those pleasures which once delighted me,
and once more I say, that I do not wish to see objects so dear to me,
which might bring me back again into sense, and rival my supreme love.
***
Twice have I been forced to leave off. I wished, that my last writing
might be to you, or to Miss Howe, if it might not be to my dearest Ma----
Mamma, I would have wrote--is the word distinct?--My eyes are so misty!--
If, when I apply to you, I break off in half-words, do you supply them--
the kindest are your due.--Be sure take the kindest, to fill up chasms
with, if any chasms there be--
***
Another breaking off!--But the new day seems to rise upon me with healing
in its wings. I have gotten, I think, a recruit of strength: spirits, I
bless God, I have not of late wanted.
Let my dearest Miss Howe purchase her wedding-garments--and may all
temporal blessings attend the charming preparation!--Blessings will, I
make no question, notwithstanding the little cloudiness that Mr. Hickman
encounters with now and then, which are but prognostications of a future
golden day to him: for her heart is good, and her head not wrong.--But
great merit is coy, and that coyness had not always its foundation in
pride: but if it should seem to be pride, take off the skin-deep
covering, and, in her, it is noble diffidence, and a love that wants but
to be assured!
Tell Mr. Hickman I write this, and write it, as I believe, with my last
pen; and bid him bear a little at first, and forbear; and all the future
will be crowning gratitude, and rewarding love: for Miss Howe had great
sense, fine judgment, and exalted generosity; and can such a one be
ungrateful or easy under those obligations which his assiduity and
obligingness (when he shall be so happy as to call her his) will lay her
under to him?
As for me, never bride was so ready as I am. My wedding garments are
bought---and though not fine or gawdy to the sight, though not adorned
with jewels, and set off with gold and silver, (for I have no beholders'
eyes to wish to glitter in,) yet will they be the easiest, the happiest
suit, that ever bridal maiden wore--for they are such as carry with them
a security against all those anxieties, pains, and perturbations, which
sometimes succeed to the most promising outsettings.
And now, my dear Mrs. Norton, do I wish for no other.
O hasten, good God, if it be thy blessed will, the happy moment that I am
to be decked out in his all-quieting garb! And sustain, comfort, bless,
and protect with the all-shadowing wing of thy mercy, my dear parents, my
uncles, my brother, my sister, my cousin Morden, my ever-dear and
ever-kind Miss Howe, my good Mrs. Norton, and every deserving person to
whom they wish well! is the ardent prayer, first and last, of every
beginning hour, as the clock tells it me, (hours now are days, nay,
years,) of
Your now not sorrowing or afflicted, but happy,
CLARISSA HARLOWE.