n in what relates to this life!

My heart is too full to touch upon the particulars of my sister's letter.
I can make but one atonement for my fault. May that be accepted! And
may it soon be forgotten, by every dear relation, that there was such an
unhappy daughter, sister, or niece, as Clarissa Harlowe!

My cousin Morden was one of those who was so earnest in prayer for my
recovery, at nine and eleven years of age, as you mention. My sister
thinks he will be one of those who wish I never had had a being. But
pray, when he does come, let me hear of it with the first.

You think that, were it not for that unhappy notion of my moving talent,
my mother would relent. What would I give to see her once more, and,
although unknown to her, to kiss but the hem of her garment!

Could I have thought that the last time I saw her would have been the
last, with what difficulty should I have been torn from her embraced
feet!--And when, screened behind the yew-hedge on the 5th of April last,*
I saw my father, and my uncle Antony, and my brother and sister, how
little did I think that that would be the last time I should ever see
them; and, in so short a space, that so many dreadful evils would befal
me!

* See Vol. II. Letter XXXVI.

But I can write nothing but what must give you trouble. I will
therefore, after repeating my desire that you will not intercede for me
but with my previous consent, conclude with the assurance, that I am, and
ever will be,

Your most affectionate and dutiful
CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER LX

MISS AR. HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE
[IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF FRIDAY, JULY 21, LETTER XLV. OF THIS VOLUME.]
THURSDAY, JULY 27.

O MY UNHAPPY LOST SISTER!

What a miserable hand have you made of your romantic and giddy
expedition!--I pity you at my heart.

You may well grieve and repent!--Lovelace has left you!--In what way or
circumstances you know best.

I wish your conduct had made your case more pitiable. But 'tis your own
seeking!

God help you!--For you have not a friend will look upon you!--Poor,
wicked, undone creature!--Fallen, as you are, against warning, against
expostulation, against duty!

But it signifies nothing to reproach you. I weep over you.

My poor mother!--Your rashness and folly have made her more miserable
than you can be.--Yet she has besought my father to grant your request.

My uncles joined with her: for they thought there was a little more
modesty in your