to direct for Rachel Clark, at Mr. Smith's, in King-street,
Covent-garden. But keep the direction an absolute secret.

LETTER LVI

MRS. NORTON
[IN ANSWER.]
SATURDAY, JULY 1.

Your letter, my dearest young lady, cuts me to the heart! Why will you
not let me know all your distresses?--Yet you have said enough!

My son is very good to me. A few hours ago he was taken with a feverish
disorder. But I hope it will go off happily, if his ardour for business
will give him the recess from it which his good master is willing to
allow him. He presents his duty to you, and shed tears at hearing your
sad letter read.

You have been misinformed as to your family's being at your uncle
Harlowe's. They did not intend to be there. Nor was the day kept at
all. Indeed, they have not stirred out, but to church (and that but
three times) ever since the day you went away.--Unhappy day for them, and
for all who know you!--To me, I am sure, most particularly so!--My heart
now bleeds more and more for you.

I have not heard a syllable of such a journey as you mentioned of your
brother, Captain Singleton, and Mr. Solmes. There has been some talk
indeed of your brother's setting out for his northern estates: but I have
not heard of it lately.

I am afraid no letter will be received from you. It grieves me to tell
you so, my dearest young lady. No evil can have happened to you, which
they do not expect to hear of; so great is their antipathy to the wicked
man, and so bad is his character.

I cannot but think hardly of their unforgiveness: but there is no judging
for others by one's self. Nevertheless I will add, that, if you had had
as gentle spirits as mine, these evils had never happened either to them
or to you. I knew your virtue, and your love of virtue, from your very
cradle; and I doubted not but that, with God's grace, would always be
your guard. But you could never be driven; nor was there occasion to
drive you--so generous, so noble, so discreet.--But how does my love of
your amiable qualities increase my affliction; as these recollections
must do your's!

You are escaped, my dearest Miss--happily, I hope--that is to say, with
your honour--else, how great must be your distress!--Yet, from your
letter, I dread the worst.

I am very seldom at Harlowe-place. The house is not the house it used to
be, since you went from it. Then they are so relentless! And, as I
cannot say harsh things of the beloved ch