Then! how the wretch promised!—­How he vowed!—­How he entreated!—­And how the women pleaded!—­And they engaged themselves, and the honour of their whole family, for his just, his kind, his tender behaviour to me.

In short, my dear, I was so hard set, that I was obliged to come to a more favourable compromise with them than I had intended.  I would wait for your answer to my letter, I said:  and if that made doubtful or difficult the change of measures I had resolved upon, and the scheme of life I had formed, I would then consider of the matter; and, if they would permit me, lay all before them, and take their advice upon it, in conjunction with your’s, as if the one were my own aunt, and the other were my own cousin.

They shed tears upon this—­of joy they called them:—­But since, I believe, to their credit, bad as they are, that they were tears of temporary remorse; for, the pretended Miss Montague turned about, and, as I remember, said, There was no standing it.

But Mr. Lovelace was not so easily satisfied.  He was fixed upon his villanous measures perhaps; and so might not be sorry to have a pretence against me.  He bit his lip—­he had been but too much used, he said, to such indifference, such coldness, in the very midst of his happiest prospects.  I had on twenty occasions shown him, to his infinite regret, that any favour I was to confer upon him was to be the result of—­there he stopt—­and not of my choice.

This had like to have set all back again.  I was exceedingly offended.  But the pretended ladies interposed.  The elder severely took him to task.  He ought, she told him, to be satisfied with what I had said.  She desired no other condition.  And what, Sir, said she, with an air of authority, would you commit errors, and expect to be rewarded for them?

They then engaged me in a more agreeable conversation—­the pretended lady declared, that she, Lord M. and Lady Sarah, would directly and personally interest themselves to bring about a general reconciliation between the two families, and this either in open or private concert with my uncle Harlowe, as should be thought fit.  Animosities on one side had been carried a great way, she said; and too little care had been shown on the other to mollify or heal.  My father should see that they could treat him as a brother and a friend; and my brother and sister should be convinced that there was no room either for the jealously [sic] or envy they had conceived from motives too unworthy to be avowed.

Could I help, my dear, being pleased with them?—­

Permit me here to break off.  The task grows too heavy, at present, for the heart of

Your
Clarissa Harlowe.

LETTER LXVIII

Miss Clarissa Harlowe
[in continuation.]

I was very ill, and obliged to lay down my pen.  I thought I should have fainted.  But am better now—­so will proceed.