ed unopened, and the torn
unopened one sent to my father; having first hurried off a transcript
for you.

My uncle was going home, and it was delivered to him just as he stepped
into his chariot. What may be the fate of it therefore I cannot know
till to-morrow.

The following is a copy of it:

TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ.

MY DEAR AND EVER-HONOURED UNCLE,

I have nobody now but you, to whom I can apply, with hope, so much as
to have my humble addresses opened and read. My aunt Hervey has given me
commands which I want to have explained; but she has forbid me writing
to her. Hereupon I took the liberty to write to my father and mother.
You will see, Sir, by the torn one, and by the other, (both unopened,)
what has been the result. This, Sir, perhaps you already know: but, as
you know not the contents of the disgraced letters, I beseech you to
read them both, that you may be a witness for me, that they are not
filled with either complaints or expostulations, nor contain any thing
undutiful. Give me leave to say, Sir, that if deaf-eared anger will
neither grant me a hearing, nor, what I write a perusal, some time hence
the hard-heartedness may be regretted. I beseech you, dear, good Sir,
to let me know what is meant by sending me to my uncle Antony's house,
rather than to yours, or to my aunt Hervey's, or else-where? If it be
for what I apprehend it to be, life will not be supportable upon the
terms. I beg also to know, WHEN I am to be turned out of doors!--My
heart strongly gives me, that if once I am compelled to leave this
house, I never shall see it more.

It becomes me, however, to declare, that I write not this through
perverseness, or in resentment. God knows my heart, I do not! But the
treatment I apprehend I shall meet with, if carried to my other uncle's,
will, in all probability, give the finishing stroke to the distresses,
the undeserved distresses I will be bold to call them, of

Your once highly-favoured, but now unhappy, CL. HARLOWE.

LETTER XVI

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY MORNING, MARCH 27.

This morning early my uncle Harlowe came hither. He sent up the enclosed
very tender letter. It has made me wish I could oblige him. You will see
how Mr. Solmes's ill qualities are glossed over in it. What blemishes
dies affection hide!--But perhaps they may say to me, What faults does
antipathy bring to light!

Be pleased to send me back this letter of my uncle by the first return.