, 'To unbolt the door, as that very night;
or, if I receive not this time enough, this night;--and he will, in a
disguise that shall not give suspicion who he is, if he should be seen,
come to the garden door, in hopes to open it with his key; nor will he
have any other lodging than in the coppice both nights; watching every
wakeful hour for the propitious unbolting, unless he has a letter with
my orders to the contrary, or to make some other appointment.'

This letter was dated yesterday: so he was there last night, I suppose;
and will be there this night; and I have not written a line to him: and
now it is too late, were I determined what to write.

I hope he will not go to Mr. Solmes.--I hope he will not come
hither.--If he do either, I will break with him for ever.

What have I to do with these headstrong spirits? I wish I had never--but
what signifies wishing?--I am strangely perplexed: but I need not have
told you this, after such a representation of my situation.

LETTER XVII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY MORNING, 7 O'CLOCK

My uncle has vouchsafed to answer me. These that follow are the
contents of his letter; but just now brought me, although written last
night--late I suppose.

MONDAY NIGHT.

MISS CLARY,

Since you are grown such a bold challenger, and teach us all our duty,
though you will not practise your own, I must answer you. Nobody
wants you estate from you. Are you, who refuse ever body's advice,
to prescribe a husband to your sister? Your letter to Mr. Solmes is
inexcusable. I blamed you for it before. Your parents will be obeyed. It
is fit they should. Your mother has nevertheless prevailed to have your
going to your uncle Antony's put off till Thursday: yet owns you deserve
not that, or any other favour from her. I will receive no more of
your letters. You are too artful for me. You are an ungrateful and
unreasonable child: Must you have your way paramount to every body's?
How are you altered.

Your displeased uncle, JOHN HARLOWE.

*****

To be carried away on Thursday--To the moated house--To the chapel--To
Solmes! How can I think of this!--They will make me desperate.

TUESDAY MORNING, 8 O'CLOCK.

I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace. I opened it with the
expectation of its being filled with bold and free complaints, on my
not writing to prevent his two nights watching, in weather not extremely
agreeable. But, instead of complaints, he is 'full of