God send me good news of your health, of your ability to write; and then I will chide you—­indeed I will—­as I never yet did chide you.

I suppose your excuse will be, that the subject required consideration—­ Lord! my dear, so it might; but you have so right a mind, and the matter in question is so obvious, that you could not want half an hour to determine.—­Then you intended, probably, to wait Collins’s call for your letter as on to-morrow!—­Suppose something were to happen, as it did on Friday, that he should not be able to go to town to-morrow?—­How, child, could you serve me so!—­I know not how to leave off scolding you!

Dear, honest Collins, make haste:  he will:  he will.  He sets out, and travels all night:  for I have told him, that the dearest friend I have in the world has it in her own choice to be happy, and to make me so; and that the letter he will bring from her will assure it to me.

I have ordered him to go directly (without stopping at the Saracen’s-head-inn) to you at your lodgings.  Matters are now in so good a way, that he safely may.

Your expected letter is ready written I hope:  if it can be not, he will call for it at your hour.

You can’t be so happy as you deserve to be:  but I doubt not that you will be as happy as you can; that is, that you will choose to put yourself instantly into Lady Betty’s protection.  If you would not have the wretch for your own sake; have him you must, for mine, for your family’s, for your honour’s, sake!—­Dear, honest Collins, make haste! make haste! and relieve the impatient heart of my beloved’s

Ever faithful, ever affectionate,
Anna Howe.

LETTER XI

Miss Howe, to miss Charlotte Montague
Tuesday Morn.  July 18.

MADAM,

I take the liberty to write to you, by this special messenger.  In the phrensy of my soul I write to you, to demand of you, and of any of your family who can tell news of my beloved friend, who, I doubt, has been spirited away by the base arts of one of the blackest—­O help me to a name black enough to call him by!  Her piety is proof against self-attempts.  It must, it must be he, the only wretch, who could injure such an innocent; and now—­who knows what he has done with her!

If I have patience, I will give you the occasion of this distracted vehemence.

I wrote to her the very moment you and your sister left me.  But being unable to procure a special messenger, as I intended, was forced to send by the post.  I urged her, [you know I promised that I would:  I urged her,] with earnestness, to comply with the desires of all your family.  Having no answer, I wrote again on Sunday night; and sent it by a particular hand, who travelled all night; chiding her for keeping a heart so impatient as mine in such cruel suspense, upon a matter of so much importance to her, and therefore to me.  And very angry I was with her in my mind.