The Colonel proposes to attend the hearse, if his kindred give him not fresh cause of displeasure; and will take with him a copy of the will.  And being intent to give the family some favourable impressions of me, he desired me to permit him to take with him the copy of the posthumous letter to me; which I readily granted.  He is so kind as to promise me a minute account of all that should pass on the melancholy occasion.  And we have begun a friendship and settled a correspondence, which but one incident can possibly happen to interrupt to the end of our lives.  And that I hope will not happen.

But what must be the grief, the remorse, that will seize upon the hearts of this hitherto-inexorable family, on the receiving of the posthumous letters, and that of the Colonel apprizing them of what has happened?  I have given requisite orders to an undertaker, on the supposition that the body will be permitted to be carried down; and the women intend to fill the coffin with aromatic herbs.

The Colonel has obliged me to take the bills and draughts which he brought up with him, for the considerable sums which accrued since the grandfather’s death from the lady’s estate.

I could have shown to Mrs. Norton the copies of the two letters which she missed by coming up.  But her grief wants not the heightenings which the reading of them would have given her.

***

I have been dipping into the copies of the posthumous letters to the family, which Harry has carried down.  Well may I call this lady divine.  They are all calculated to give comfort rather than reproach, though their cruelty to her merited nothing but reproach.  But were I in any of their places, how much rather had I, that she had quitted scores with me by the most severe recrimination, than that she should thus nobly triumph over me by a generosity that has no example?  I will enclose some of them, which I desire you to return as soon as you can.

LETTER XIV

To the ever-honoured JAS. Harlowe, Sen.  Esq.

MOST DEAR SIR,

With exulting confidence now does your emboldened daughter come into your awful presence by these lines, who dared not, but upon this occasion, to look up to you with hopes of favour and forgiveness; since, when this comes to your hands, it will be out of her power ever to offend you more.

And now let me bless you, my honoured Papa, and bless you, as I write, upon my knees, for all the benefits I have received from your indulgence:  for your fond love to me in the days of my prattling innocence:  for the virtuous education you gave me:  and for, the crown of all, the happy end, which, through divine grace, by means of that virtuous education, I hope, by the time you will receive this, I shall have made.  And let me beg of you, dear, venerable Sir, to blot out from your remembrance, if possible, the last unhappy eight months; and then I shall hope to be remembered with advantage for the pleasure you had the goodness to take in your Clarissa.