Volume IX Part 13 (2/2)

Again she kissed her lips, each cheek, her forehead;--and sighed as if her heart would break--

But why, why, said she, was I withheld from seeing my dearest, dear friend, and too easily persuaded to delay, the friendly visit that my heart panted after; what pain will this reflection give me!--O my blessed Friend! Who knows, who knows, had I come in time, what my cordial comfortings might have done for thee!--But--looking round her, as if she apprehended seeing some of the family--One more kiss, my Angel, my Friend, my ever-to-be-regretted, lost Companion! And let me fly this hated house, which I never loved but for thy sake!--Adieu then, my dearest CLARISSA!--Thou art happy, I doubt not, as thou a.s.suredst me in thy last letter!--O may we meet, and rejoice together, where no villanous Lovelaces, no hard-hearted relations, will ever shock our innocence, or ruffle our felicity!

Again she was silent, unable to go, though seeming to intend it: struggling, as it were, with her grief, and heaving with anguish. At last, happily, a flood of tears gushed from her eyes--Now!--Now!--said she, shall I--shall I--be easier. But for this kindly relief, my heart would have burst asunder--more, many more tears than these are due to my CLARISSA, whose counsel has done for me what mine could not do for her!-- But why, looking earnestly upon her, her hands clasped and lifted up--But why do I thus lament the HAPPY? And that thou art so, is my comfort. It is, it is, my dear creature! kissing her again.

Excuse me, Sir, [turning to me, who was as much moved as herself,] I loved the dear creature, as never woman loved another. Excuse my frantic grief. How has the glory of her s.e.x fallen a victim to villany and to hard-heartedness!

Madam, said I, they all have it!--Now indeed they have it--

And let them have it;--I should belie my love for the friend of my heart, were I to pity them!--But how unhappy am I [looking upon her] that I saw her not before these eyes were shut, before these lips were for ever closed!--O Sir, you know not the wisdom that continually flowed from these lips when she spoke!--Nor what a friend I have lost!

Then surveying the lid, she seemed to take in at once the meaning of the emblems; and this gave her so much fresh grief, that though she several times wipes her eyes, she was unable to read the inscription and texts; turning, therefore, to me, Favour me, Sir, I pray you, by a line, with the description of these emblems, and with these texts; and if I might be allowed a lock of the dear creature's hair----

I told her that her executor would order both; and would also send her a copy of her last will; in which she would find the most grateful remembrances of her love for her, whom she calls The sister of her heart.

Justly, said she, does she call me so; for we had but one heart, but one soul, between us; and now my better half is torn from me--What shall I do?

But looking round her, on a servant's stepping by the door, as if again she had apprehended it was some of the family--Once more, said she, a solemn, an everlasting adieu!--Alas for me! a solemn, an everlasting adieu!

Then again embracing her face with both her hands, and kissing it, and afterwards the hands of the dear deceased, first one, then the other, she gave me her hand, and quitting the room with precipitation, rushed into her chariot; and, when there, with profound sight, and a fresh burst of tears, unable to speak, she bowed her head to me, and was driven away.

The inconsolable company saw how much I had been moved on my return to them. Mr. James Harlowe had been telling them what had pa.s.sed between him and me. And, finding myself unfit for company, and observing, that they broke off talk at my coming in, I thought it proper to leave them to their consultations.

And here I will put an end to this letter, for indeed, Sir, the very recollection of this affecting scene has left me nearly as unable to proceed, as I was, just after it, to converse with my cousins. I am, Sir, with great truth,

Your most obedient humble servant, WILLIAM MORDEN.

LETTER XXIX

COLONEL MORDEN [IN CONTINUATION.]

TUESDAY MORNING, SEPT. 12.

The good Mrs. Norton is arrived, a little amended in her spirits; owing to the very posthumous letters, as I may call them, which you, Mr.

Belford, as well as I, apprehended would have had fatal effects upon her.

I cannot but attribute this to the right turn of her mind. It seems she has been inured to afflictions; and has lived in a constant hope of a better life; and, having no acts of unkindness to the dear deceased to reproach herself with, is most considerately resolved to exert her utmost fort.i.tude in order to comfort the sorrowing mother.

O Mr. Belford, how does the character of my dear departed cousin rise upon me from every mouth!--Had she been my own child, or my sister!--But do you think that the man who occasioned this great, this extended ruin-- But I forbear.

The will is not to be looked into, till the funeral rites are performed.

Preparations are making for the solemnity; and the servants, as well as princ.i.p.als of all the branches of the family, are put into close mourning.

I have seen Mr. Melvill. He is a serious and sensible man. I have given him particulars to go upon in the discourse he is to p.r.o.nounce at the funeral; but had the less need to do this, as I find he is extremely well acquainted with the whole unhappy story; and was a personal admirer of my dear cousin, and a sincere lamenter of her misfortunes and death. The reverend Dr. Lewen, who is but very lately dead, was his particular friend, and had once intended to recommend him to her favour and notice.

<script>