Clarissa Harlowe, Samuel Richardson [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

crowding in for the divine lady’s blessing; and she spoke faltering and inwardly⁠—Bless⁠—bless⁠—bless⁠—you all⁠—and⁠—now⁠—and now⁠—(holding up her almost lifeless hands for the last time) come⁠—O come⁠—blessed Lord⁠—Jesus!

And with these words, the last but half-pronounced, expired:⁠—such a smile, such a charming serenity overspreading her sweet face at the instant, as seemed to manifest her eternal happiness already begun.

O Lovelace!⁠—But I can write no more!

I resume my pen to add a few lines.

While warm, though pulseless, we pressed each her hand with our lips; and then retired into the next room.

We looked at each other, with intent to speak: but, as if one motion governed, as one cause affected both, we turned away silent.

The Colonel sighed as if his heart would burst: at last, his face and hands uplifted, his back towards me, Good Heaven! said he to himself, support me!⁠—And is it thus, O flower of nature!⁠—Then pausing⁠—And must we no more⁠—never more!⁠—My blessed, blessed Cousin! uttering some other words, which his sighs made inarticulate.⁠—And then, as if recollecting himself⁠—Forgive me, Sir!⁠—Excuse me, Mr. Belford! And sliding by me, Anon I hope to see you, Sir⁠—And downstairs he went, and out of the house, leaving me a statue.

When I recovered, I was ready to repine at what I then called an unequal dispensation; forgetting her happy preparation, and still happier departure; and that she had but drawn a common lot; triumphing in it, and leaving behind her everyone less assured of happiness, though equally certain that the lot would one day be their own.

She departed exactly at forty minutes after six o’clock, as by her watch on the table.

And thus died Miss Clarissa Harlowe, in the blossom of her youth and beauty: and who, her tender years considered, had not left behind her her superior in extensive knowledge and watchful prudence; nor hardly her equal for unblemished virtue, exemplary piety, sweetness of manners, discreet generosity, and true Christian charity: and these all set off by the most graceful modesty and humility; yet on all proper occasions, manifesting a noble presence of mind, and true magnanimity: so that she may be said to have been not only an ornament to her sex, but to human nature.

A better pen than mine may do her fuller justice. Thine, I mean, O Lovelace! For well dost thou know how much she excelled in the graces of both mind and person, natural and acquired, all that is woman. And thou also can best account for the causes of her immature death, through those calamities which in so short a space of time, from the highest pitch of felicity, (everyone in a manner adoring her), brought her to an exit so happy for herself, but, that it was so early, so much to be deplored by all who had the honour of her acquaintance.

This task, then, I leave to thee: but now I can write no more, only that I am a sympathizer in every part of thy distress, except (and yet it is cruel to say it) in that which arises from thy guilt.

One o’clock, Friday Morning.

Letter 482 Mr. Belford, to Robert Lovelace, Esq.

Nine, Friday Morn

I have no opportunity to write at length, having necessary orders to give on the melancholy occasion. Joel, who got to me by six in the morning, and whom I dispatched instantly back with the letter I had ready from last night, gives me but an indifferent account of the state of your mind. I wonder not at it; but time (and nothing else can) will make it easier to you: if (that is to say) you have compounded with your conscience; else it may be heavier every day than other.

Tourville tells us what a way you are in. I hope you will not think of coming hither. The lady in her will desires you may not see her. Four copies are making of it. It is a long one; for she gives her reasons for all she wills. I will write to you more particularly as soon as possibly I can.

Three letters are just brought by a servant in livery, directed To Miss Clarissa Harlowe. I will send copies of them to you. The contents are enough to make one mad. How would this poor lady have rejoiced to receive them!⁠—And yet, if she had, she would not have been enabled to say, as she nobly did,382 That God would not let her depend for comfort upon any but Himself.⁠—And indeed for some days past she had seemed to have got above all worldly considerations.⁠—Her fervent love, even for her Miss Howe, as she acknowledged, having given way to supremer fervours.383

Letter 483 Mrs. Norton, to Miss Clarissa Harlowe

Wednesday, Sept. 6

At length, my best beloved Miss Clary, everything is in the wished train: for all your relations are unanimous in your favour. Even your brother and your sister are with the foremost to be reconciled to you.

I knew it must end thus! By patience, and persevering sweetness, what a triumph have you gained!

This happy change is owing to letters received from your physician, from your cousin Morden, and from Mr. Brand.

Colonel Morden will be with you, no doubt, before this can reach you, with his pocketbook filled with money-bills, that nothing may be wanting to make you easy.

And now, all our hopes, all our prayers, are, that this good news may restore you to spirits and health; and that (so long withheld) it may not come too late.

I know how much your dutiful heart will be raised with the joyful tidings I write you, and still shall more particularly tell you of, when I have the happiness to see you: which will be by next Sunday, at farthest; perhaps on Friday afternoon, by the time you can receive this.

For this day, being sent for by the general voice, I was received by everyone with great goodness and condescension, and entreated (for that was