exertion, often brings into question) insists, that my next visit
to you must be a congratulatory one as Mrs. Lovelace.

When I know what will be the result of the questions to be put in my name
to that wretch, and what is your mind on my letter of the 13th, I shall
tell you more of mine.

The bearer promises to make so much dispatch as to attend you this very
afternoon. May he return with good tidings to

Your ever affectionate
ANNA HOWE.

LETTER XXV

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
THURSDAY AFTERNOON.

You pain me, Miss Howe, by the ardour of your noble friendship. I will
be brief, because I am not well; yet a good deal better than I was; and
because I am preparing an answer to your's of the 13th. But, before
hand, I must tell you, my dear, I will not have that man--don't be angry
with me. But indeed I won't. So let him be asked no questions about me,
I beseech you.

I do not despond, my dear. I hope I may say, I will not despond. Is not
my condition greatly mended? I thank Heaven it is!

I am no prisoner now in a vile house. I am not now in the power of that
man's devices. I am not now obliged to hide myself in corners for fear
of him. One of his intimate companions is become my warm friend, and
engages to keep him from me, and that by his own consent. I am among
honest people. I have all my clothes and effects restored to me. The
wretch himself bears testimony to my honour.

Indeed I am very weak and ill: but I have an excellent physician, Dr. H.
and as worthy an apothecary, Mr. Goddard.--Their treatment of me, my
dear, is perfectly paternal!--My mind too, I can find, begins to
strengthen: and methinks, at times, I find myself superior to my
calamities.

I shall have sinkings sometimes. I must expect such. And my father's
maledict----But you will chide me for introducing that, now I am
enumerating my comforts.

But I charge you, my dear, that you do not suffer my calamities to sit
too heavily upon your own mind. If you do, that will be to new-point
some of those arrows that have been blunted and lost their sharpness.

If you would contribute to my happiness, give way, my dear, to your own;
and to the cheerful prospects before you!

You will think very meanly of your Clarissa, if you do not believe, that
the greatest pleasure she can receive in this life is in your prosperity
and welfare. Think not of me, my only friend, but as we were in times
past: and suppose me gone a