nd, by apprehended Murder,
almost robbed her of her Senses, and hurried her away, not knowing what
she did. For the Truth of this, I appeal to that charming painted Scene,
where the Reader's Mind shares _Clarissa's_ Terror, and is kept in one
continued Tumult til.

[A]_The Steeds are smote, the rapid Chariot flies,
The sudden Clouds of circuling Dust arise._

[A] _Pope's Homer._

"She was vexed to her soul afterwards to find she was tricked, as she
calls it, out of herself, when _Lovelace_, instead of comforting and
assuring her Mind, begins such a Train of shufling artful Tricks, as no
one but _Lovelace_ could have thought on: And altho' she did not know
all his Design, for if she had, she would certainly have left him, yet
she sees enough of his _crooked ways_, to be convinced that he acted
ungenerously by her, because she was in _his Power_. Does not
_Lovelace_, in a Letter to _Belford_, writ in four Days after she was
with him, say?

_And do I not see, that I shall want nothing but Patience, in order
to have all Power with me? For what shall we say, if all these
Complaints of a Character Wounded, these Declarations of increasing
Regrets of meeting me, of Resentments never to be got over for my
seducing her away, these angry Commands to leave her,--what shall we
say, if all were to mean nothing but Matrimony?--And what if my
forbearing to enter upon that Subject comes out to be the true Cause of
her Petulance and Uneasiness._

"And then he gives such an Account of his asking her Consent to marry
him, and at the same Time artfully confusing her, so as to prevent her
Consent, as perfectly paints his cunning vile Heart. How is her
Behaviour altered to him from the Time she can write Miss _Howe_ word
that her Prospects are mended, till his returning Shufling convinces her
there is no Confidence to be placed in him! But if, Sir, you cannot
think _Lovelace's_ Usage of _Clarissa_ a full Justification of her in
this Point, I think the Author has a just Right to be heard out before
his Heroine is condemned in so heavy a Charge, as that of being void of
all Affection. You know enough of my Sentiments, Sir, to be convinced
that I do think this the heaviest Charge a Woman can be accused of; for
Love is the only Passion I should wish to be harboured in the gentle
Bosom of a good Woman. Ambition, with all the Train of turbulent
Passions the World is infested with, I would leave to