grave reflections. This man has vexed me heartily. I see
his gentleness was art: fierceness, and a temper like what I have been
too much used to at home, are Nature in him. Nothing, I think, shall
ever make me forgive him; for, surely, there can be no good reason for
his impatience on an expectation given with reserve, and revocable.--I
so much to suffer through him; yet, to be treated as if I were obliged
to bear insults from him--!

But here you will be pleased to read his letter; which I shall enclose.

TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE

GOOD GOD!

What is now to become of me!--How shall I support this
disappointment!--No new cause!--On one knee, kneeling with the other, I
write!--My feet benumbed with midnight wanderings through the heaviest
dews that ever fell: my wig and my linen dripping with the hoar frost
dissolving on them!--Day but just breaking--Sun not risen to exhale--May
it never rise again!--Unless it bring healing and comfort to a benighted
soul! In proportion to the joy you had inspired (ever lovely promiser!)
in such proportion is my anguish!

O my beloved creature!--But are not your very excuses confessions of
excuses inexcusable? I know not what I write!--That servant in your
way!* By the great God of Heaven, that servant was not, dared not, could
not, be in your way!--Curse upon the cool caution that is pleased to
deprive me of an expectation so transporting!

* See Letter XIX.

And are things drawing towards a crisis between your friends and
you?--Is not this a reason for me to expect, the rather to expect, the
promised interview?

CAN I write all that is in my mind, say you?--Impossible!--Not the
hundredth part of what is in my mind, and in my apprehension, can I
write!

Oh! the wavering, the changeable sex!--But can Miss Clarissa Harlowe--

Forgive me, Madam!--I know not what I write!

Yet, I must, I do, insist upon your promise--or that you will condescend
to find better excuses for the failure--or convince me, that stronger
reasons are imposed upon you, than those you offer.--A promise once
given (upon deliberation given,) the promised only can dispense with;
except in cases of a very apparent necessity imposed upon the promiser,
which leaves no power to perform it.

The first promise you ever made me! Life and death perhaps depending
upon it--my heart desponding from the barbarous methods resolved to be
taken with you in malice to me!

You would sooner choose death than So