Volume IX Part 13 (1/2)

Miss Howe, by her messenger, desires she may not be taken any notice of.

She shall not tarry six minutes, was the word. Her desire will be easily granted her.

Her servant, who brought the request, if it were denied, was to return, and meet her; for she was ready to set out in her chariot, when he got on horseback.

If he met her not with the refusal, he was to say here till she came. I am, Sir,

Your faithful, humble servant, WILLIAM MORDEN.

LETTER XXVIII

COLONEL MORDEN [IN CONTINUATION.]

MONDAY AFTERNOON, SEPT. 11.

SIR,

We are such bad company here to one another, that it is some relief to retire and write.

I was summoned to breakfast about half an hour after nine. Slowly did the mournful congress meet. Each, lifelessly and spiritless, took our places, with swoln eyes, inquiring, without expecting any tolerable account, how each had rested.

The sorrowing mother gave for answer, that she should never more know what rest was.

By the time we were well seated, the bell ringing, the outward gate opening, a chariot rattling over the pavement of the court-yard, put them into emotion.

I left them; and was just time enough to give Miss Howe my hand as she alighted: her maid in tears remaining in the chariot.

I think you told me, Sir, you never saw Miss Howe. She is a fine, graceful young lady. A fixed melancholy on her whole aspect, overclouded a vivacity and fire, which, nevertheless, darted now-and-then through the awful gloom. I shall ever respect her for her love to my dear cousin.

Never did I think, said she, as she gave me her hand, to enter more these doors: but, living or dead, Clarissa brings me after her any where!

She entered with me the little parlour; and seeing the coffin, withdrew her hand from mine, and with impatience pushed aside the lid. As impatiently she removed the face-cloth. In a wild air, she clasped her uplifted hands together; and now looked upon the corpse, now up to Heaven, as if appealing to that. Her bosom heaved and fluttered discernible through her handkerchief, and at last she broke silence:--O Sir!--See you not here!--the glory of her s.e.x?--Thus by the most villanous of yours--thus--laid low!

O my blessed Friend!--said she--My sweet Companion!--My lovely Monitress!

--kissing her lips at every tender appellation. And is this all!--Is it all of my CLARISSA'S story!

Then, after a short pause, and a profound sigh, she turned to me, and then to her breathless friend. But is she, can she be, really dead!--O no!--She only sleeps.--Awake, my beloved Friend! My sweet clay-cold Friend, awake: let thy Anna Howe revive thee; by her warm breath revive thee, my dear creature! And, kissing her again, Let my warm lips animate thy cold ones!

Then, sighing again, as from the bottom of her heart, and with an air, as if disappointed that she answered not, And can such perfection end thus!

--And art thou really and indeed flown from thine Anna Howe!--O my unkind CLARISSA!

She was silent a few moments, and then, seeming to recover herself, she turned to me--Forgive, forgive, Mr. Morden, this wild phrensy!--I am myself!--I never shall be!--You knew not the excellence, no, not half the excellence, that is thus laid low!--Repeating, This cannot, surely, be all of my CLARISSA'S story!

Again pausing, One tear, my beloved friend, didst thou allow me!--But this dumb sorrow!--O for a tear to ease my full-swoln heart that is just bursting!--

But why, Sir, why, Mr. Morden, was she sent hither? Why not to me?--She has no father, no mother, no relation; no, not one!--They had all renounced her. I was her sympathizing friend--And had not I the best right to my dear creature's remains?--And must names, without nature, be preferred to such a love as mine?