imself of Singleton's and my brother's motions; and if on his return he
found no reason for apprehension, he would go directly for Berks, and
endeavour to bring up with him his cousin Charlotte, who, he hoped, would
induce me to give him an earlier day than at present I seemed to think
of.--I seemed to think of, my dear, very acquiescent, as I should
imagine!

I told him, that I should take that young lady's company for a great
favour.

I was the more pleased with this motion, as it came from himself, and
with no ill grace.

He earnestly pressed me to accept of a bank note: but I declined it. And
then he offered me his servant William for my attendant in his absence;
who, he said, might be dispatched to him, if any thing extraordinary fell
out. I consented to that.

He took his leave of me in the most respectful manner, only kissing my
hand. He left the bank note, unobserved by me, upon the table. You may
be sure, I shall give it him back at his return.

I am in a much better humour with him than I was.

Where doubts of any person are removed, a mind not ungenerous is willing,
by way of amends for having conceived those doubts, to construe every
thing that happens, capable of a good instruction, in that person's
favour. Particularly, I cannot but be pleased to observe, that although
he speaks of the ladies of his family with the freedom of relationship,
yet it is always of tenderness. And from a man's kindness to his
relations of the sex, a woman has some reason to expect his good
behaviour to herself, when married, if she be willing to deserve it from
him.

And thus, my dear, am I brought to sit down satisfied with this man,
where I find room to infer that he is not by nature a savage. But how
could a creature who (treating herself unpolitely) gave a man an
opportunity to run away with her, expect to be treated by that man with a
very high degree of politeness?

But why, now, when fairer prospects seem to open, why these melancholy
reflections? will my beloved friend ask of her Clarissa?

Why? Can you ask why, my dearest Miss Howe, of a creature, who, in the
world's eye, had enrolled her name among the giddy and inconsiderate; who
labours under a parent's curse, and the cruel uncertainties, which must
arise from reflecting, that, equally against duty and principle, she has
thrown herself into the power of a man, and that man an immoral one?--
Must not the sense she has of her inconsideration darken h