Nevertheless, I must declare, that my Miss Howe’s friendship was all the comfort I had, or expected to have in this world; and a line from her would have been a cordial to my fainting heart.  Judge then, dearest Madam, how reluctantly I must obey your prohibition—­but yet I will endeavour to obey it; although I should have hoped, as well from the tenor of all that has passed between Miss Howe and me, as from her established virtue, that she could not be tainted by evil communication, had one or two letters been permitted.  This, however, I ask not for, since I think I have nothing to do but to beg of God (who, I hope, has not yet withdrawn his grace from me, although he has pleaded to let loose his justice upon my faults) to give me a truly broken spirit, if it be not already broken enough, and then to take to his mercy

The unhappy
Clarissa Harlowe.

Two favours, good Madam, I have to beg of you.—­The first,—­that you will
   not let any of my relations know that you have heard from me.  The
   other,—­that no living creature be apprized where I am to be heard of,
   or directed to.  This is a point that concerns me more than I can
   express.—­In short, my preservation from further evils may depend upon
   it.

LETTER LIII

Miss Clarissa Harlowe, to Hannah Burton
Thursday, June 29.

MY GOOD HANNAH,

Strange things have happened to me, since you were dismissed my service (so sorely against my will) and your pert fellow servant set over me.  But that must all be forgotten now—­

How do you, my Hannah?  Are you recovered of your illness?  If you are, do you choose to come and be with me?  Or can you conveniently?

I am a very unhappy creature, and, being among all strangers, should be very glad to have you with me, of whose fidelity and love I have had so many acceptable instances.

Living or dying, I will endeavour to make it worth your while, my Hannah.

If you are recovered, as I hope, and if you have a good place, it may be they would bear with your absence, and suffer somebody in your room for a month or so:  and, by that time, I hope to be provided for, and you may then return to your place.

Don’t let any of my friends know of this my desire:  whether you can come or not.

I am at Mr. Smith’s, a hosier’s and glove shop, in King-street, Covent-garden.

You must direct to me by the name of Rachel Clark.

Do, my good Hannah, come if you can to your poor young mistress, who always valued you, and always will whether you come or not.

I send this to your mother at St. Alban’s, not knowing where to direct to you.  Return me a line, that I may know what to depend upon:  and I shall see you have not forgotten the pretty hand you were taught, in happy days, by