eloved with it
in her hand, in a fit of phrensy!--true, by my soul!

She had indeed complained of her head all the evening.

Dorcas ran to me, out of breath, to tell me, that her lady was coming in
some strange way; but she followed her so quick, that the frighted wench
had not time to say in what way.

It seems, when she read the billet--Now indeed, said she, am I a lost
creature! O the poor Clarissa Harlowe!

She tore off her head-clothes; inquired where I was; and in she came, her
shining tresses flowing about her neck; her ruffles torn, and hanging in
tatters about her snowy hands, with her arms spread out--her eyes wildly
turned, as if starting from their orbits--down sunk she at my feet, as
soon as she approached me; her charming bosom heaving to her uplifted
face; and clasping her arms about my knees, Dear Lovelace, said she, if
ever--if ever--if ever--and, unable to speak another word, quitting her
clasping hold--down--prostrate on the floor sunk she, neither in a fit
nor out of one.

I was quite astonished.--All my purposes suspended for a few moments, I
knew neither what to say, nor what to do. But, recollecting myself, am I
again, thought I, in a way to be overcome, and made a fool of!--If I now
recede, I am gone for ever.

I raised her; but down she sunk, as if quite disjointed--her limbs
failing her--yet not in a fit neither. I never heard of or saw such a
dear unaccountable; almost lifeless, and speechless too for a few
moments; what must her apprehensions be at that moment?--And for what?--
An high-notioned dear soul!--Pretty ignorance!--thought I.

Never having met with so sincere, so unquestionable a repugnance, I was
staggered--I was confounded--yet how should I know that it would be so
till I tried?--And how, having proceeded thus far, could I stop, were I
not to have had the women to goad me on, and to make light of
circumstances, which they pretended to be better judges of than I?

I lifted her, however, into a chair, and in words of disordered passion,
told her, all her fears were needless--wondered at them--begged of her to
be pacified--besought her reliance on my faith and honour--and revowed
all my old vows, and poured forth new ones.

At last, with a heart-breaking sob, I see, I see, Mr. Lovelace, in broken
sentences she spoke--I see, I see--that at last--I am ruined!--Ruined, if
your pity--let me implore your pity!--and down on her bosom, like a
half-broken-stalked lily top-heavy