ess he had been able to inspire. The
consciousness of my own weakness (in that case) might have brought me to
a composition with his wickedness.

I can indeed forgive him. But that is, because I think his crimes have
set me above him. Can I be above the man, Sir, to whom I shall give my
hand and my vows, and with them a sanction to the most premeditated
baseness? No, Sir, let me say, that your cousin Clarissa, were she
likely to live many years, and that (if she married not this man) in
penury or want, despised and forsaken by all her friends, puts not so
high a value upon the conveniencies of life, nor upon life itself, as to
seek to re-obtain the one, or to preserve the other, by giving such a
sanction: a sanction, which (were she to perform her duty,) would reward
the violator.

Nor is it so much from pride as from principle that I say this. What,
Sir! when virtue, when chastity, is the crown of a woman, and
particularly of a wife, shall form an attempt upon her's but upon a
presumption that she was capable of receiving his offered hand when he
had found himself mistaken in the vile opinion he had conceived of her?
Hitherto he has not had reason to think me weak. Nor will I give an
instance so flagrant, that weak I am in a point in which it would be
criminal to be found weak.

One day, Sir, you will perhaps know all my story. But, whenever it is
known, I beg that the author of my calamities may not be vindictively
sought after. He could not have been the author of them, but for a
strange concurrence of unhappy causes. As the law will not be able to
reach him when I am gone, the apprehension of any other sort of vengeance
terrifies me; since, in such a case, should my friends be safe, what
honour would his death bring to my memory?--If any of them should come to
misfortune, how would my fault be aggravated!

God long preserve you, my dearest Cousin, and bless you but in proportion
to the consolation you have given me, in letting me know that you still
love me; and that I have one near and dear relation who can pity and
forgive me; (and then you will be greatly blessed;) is the prayer of

Your ever grateful and affectionate
CL. HARLOWE.

LETTER XLVI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
[IN ANSWER TO HIS LETTERS XXIII. XXXVII. OF THIS VOLUME.]
THURSDAY, AUG. 31.

I cannot but own that I am cut to the heart by this Miss Harlowe's
interpretation of her letter. She ought never to be forgiven. Sh