Methinks I see the man hesitating, and looking like the fool you paint
him, under your corrective superiority!--But he is not a fool. Don't put
him upon mingling resentment with his love.

You are very serious, my dear, in the first of the two letters before
me, in relation to Mr. Hickman and me; and in relation to my mother and
me. But as to the latter, you must not be too grave. If we are not well
together at one time, we are not ill together at another. And while I am
able to make her smile in the midst of the most angry fit she ever fell
into on the present occasion, (though sometimes she would not if she
could help it,) it is a very good sign; a sign that displeasure can
never go deep, or be lasting. And then a kind word, or kind look, to
her favourite Hickman, sets the one into raptures, and the other in
tolerable humour, at any time.

But your case pains me at heart; and with all my levity, both the good
folks most sometimes partake of that pain; nor will it be over, as long
as you are in a state of uncertainty; and especially as I was not able
to prevail for that protection for you which would have prevented the
unhappy step, the necessity for which we both, with so much reason,
deplore.

I have only to add (and yet it is needless to tell you) that I am, and
will ever be,

Your affectionate friend and servant, ANNA HOWE.

LETTER XX

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE

You tell me, my dear, that my clothes and the little sum of money I left
behind me, will not be sent me.--But I will still hope. It is yet early
days. When their passions subside, they will better consider of the
matter; and especially as I have my ever dear and excellent mother for
my friend in this request! O the sweet indulgence! How has my heart
bled, and how does it still bleed for her!

You advise me not to depend upon a reconciliation. I do not, I cannot
depend upon it. But nevertheless, it is the wish next my heart. And as
to this man, what can I do? You see, that marriage is not absolutely in
my own power, if I were inclined to prefer it to the trial which I think
I ought to have principally in view to make for a reconciliation.

You say, he is proud and insolent--indeed he is. But can it be your
opinion, that he intends to humble me down to the level of his mean
pride?

And what mean you, my dear friend, when you say, that I must throw off
a little more of the veil?--Indeed I never knew that I wore one. Let
me assur