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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 315 pages of information about Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady Volume 7.

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Anna Howe.

LETTER II

Miss Clarissa Harlowe, to miss Howe
Thursday, July 13.

I am extremely concerned, my dear Miss Howe, for being primarily the occasion of the apprehensions you have of this wicked man’s vindictive attempts.  What a wide-spreading error is mine!——­

If I find that he has set foot on any machination against you, or against Mr. Hickman, I do assure you I will consent to prosecute him, although I were sure I could not survive my first appearance at the bar he should be arraigned at.

I own the justice of your mother’s arguments on that subject; but must say, that I think there are circumstances in my particular case, which will excuse me, although on a slighter occasion than that you are apprehensive of I should decline to appear against him.  I have said, that I may one day enter more particularly into this argument.

Your messenger has now indeed seen me.  I talked with him on the cheat put upon him at Hampstead:  and am sorry to have reason to say, that had not the poor young man been very simple, and very self-sufficient, he had not been so grossly deluded.  Mrs. Bevis has the same plea to make for herself.  A good-natured, thoughtless woman; not used to converse with so vile and so specious a deceiver as him, who made his advantage of both these shallow creatures.

I think I cannot be more private than where I am.  I hope I am safe.  All the risque I run, is in going out, and returning from morning-prayers; which I have two or three times ventured to do; once at Lincoln’s-inn chapel, at eleven; once at St. Dunstan’s, Fleet-street, at seven in the morning,* in a chair both times; and twice, at six in the morning, at the neighbouring church in Covent-garden.  The wicked wretches I have escaped from, will not, I hope, come to church to look for me; especially at so early prayers; and I have fixed upon the privatest pew in the latter church to hide myself in; and perhaps I may lay out a little matter in an ordinary gown, by way of disguise; my face half hid by my mob.—­I am very careless, my dear, of my appearance now.  Neat and clean takes up the whole of my attention.

* The seven-o’clock prayers at St. Dunstan’s have been since discontinued.

The man’s name at whose house I belong, is Smith—­a glove maker, as well as seller.  His wife is the shop-keeper.  A dealer also in stockings, ribbands, snuff, and perfumes.  A matron-like woman, plain-hearted, and prudent.  The husband an honest, industrious man.  And they live in good understanding with each other:  a proof with me that their hearts are right; for where a married couple live together upon ill terms, it is a sign, I think, that each knows something amiss of the other, either with regard to temper or morals, which if the world knew as well as themselves, it would perhaps as little like them as such people like each other.  Happy the marriage, where neither man nor wife has any wilful or premeditated evil in their general conduct to reproach the other with!—­ for even persons who have bad hearts will have a veneration for those who have good ones.

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