I will see him in the morning, because I promised I would. But I will go
out, and that without him, or any attendant. If he account not tolerably
for his sudden change of behaviour, and a proper opportunity offer of a
private lodging in some creditable house, I will not any more return to
this:--at present I think so.--And there will I either attend the
perfecting of your scheme; or, by your epistolary mediation, make my own
terms with the wretch; since it is your opinion, that I must be his, and
cannot help myself: or, perhaps, take a resolution to throw myself at
once into Lady Betty's protection; and this will hinder him from making
his insolently-threatened visit to Harlowe-place.

[The Lady writes again on Monday evening; and gives her friend an account
of all that passed between herself and Mr. Lovelace that day; and of
her being terrified out of her purpose, of going out: but Mr.
Lovelace's next letters giving a more ample account of all, hers are
omitted.

It is proper, however, to mention, that she re-urges Miss Howe (from the
dissatisfaction she has reason for from what passed between Mr.
Lovelace and herself) to perfect her scheme in relation to Mrs.
Townsend. She concludes this letter in these words:]

I should say something of your last favour (but a few hours ago received)
and of your dialogue with your mother--Are you not very whimsical, my
dear? I have but two things to wish for on this occasion.--The one, that
your charming pleasantry had a better subject than that you find for it
in this dialogue--the other, that my situation were not such, as must too
often damp that pleasantry in you, and will not permit me to enjoy it, as
I used to do. Be, however, happy in yourself, though you cannot in

Your
CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER XLVII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
MONDAY MORNING, MAY 22.

No generosity in this lady. None at all. Wouldst thou not have thought,
that after I had permitted her to withdraw, primed for mischief as I was,
she would meet me next morning early; and that with a smile; making me
one of her best courtesies?

I was in the dining-room before six, expecting her. She opened not her
door. I went up stairs and down; and hemm'd; and called Will.; called
Dorcas; threw the doors hard to; but still she opened not her door. Thus
till half an hour after eight, fooled I away my time; and then (breakfast
ready) I sent Dorcas to request her co