Why will ye break a leaf driven to and fro?  Why will ye pursue the dry stubble?  Why will ye write bitter words against me, and make me possess the iniquities of my youth?

Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction, as clouds of rain in the time of drought.

Are not my days few?  Cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little—­before I go whence I shall not return; even to the land of darkness, and shadow of death!

Let me add, that the excellent lady is informed, by a letter from Mrs. Norton, that Colonel Morden is just arrived in England.  He is now the only person she wishes to see.

I expressed some jealousy upon it, lest he should have place given over me in the executorship.  She said, That she had no thoughts to do so now; because such a trust, were he to accept of it, (which she doubted,) might, from the nature of some of the papers which in that case would necessarily pass through his hands, occasion mischiefs between my friend and him, that would be worse than death for her to think of.

Poor Belton, I hear, is at death’s door.  A messenger is just come from him, who tells me he cannot die till he sees me.  I hope the poor fellow will not go off yet; since neither his affairs of this world, nor for the other, are in tolerable order.  I cannot avoid going to the poor man.  Yet am unwilling to stir, till I have an assurance from you that you will not disturb the lady:  for I know he will be very loth to part with me, when he gets me to him.

Tourville tells me how fast thou mendest:  let me conjure thee not to think of molesting this incomparable woman.  For thy own sake I request this, as well as for her’s, and for the sake of thy given promise:  for, should she die within a few weeks, as I fear she will, it will be said, and perhaps too justly, that thy visit has hastened her end.

In hopes thou wilt not, I wish thy perfect recovery:  else that thou mayest relapse, and be confined to thy bed.

LETTER XI

Mr. Belford, to miss Clarissa Harlowe
sat.  Morn.  Aug. 19.

MADAM,

I think myself obliged in honour to acquaint you that I am afraid Mr. Lovelace will try his fate by an interview with you.

I wish to Heaven you could prevail upon yourself to receive his visit.  All that is respectful, even to veneration, and all that is penitent, will you see in his behaviour, if you can admit of it.  But as I am obliged to set out directly for Epsom, (to perform, as I apprehend, the last friendly offices for poor Mr. Belton, whom once you saw,) and as I think it more likely that Mr. Lovelace will not be prevailed upon, than that he will, I thought fit to give you this intimation, lest, if he should come, you should be too much surprised.