LETTER LV

  TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO BE LEFT AT MR. OSGOOD'S, NEAR SOHO-SQUAREFRIDAY, APRIL 21.

  It was expected you would send again to me, or to my aunt Hervey. Theenclosed has lain ready for you, therefore, by direction. You will haveno answer from any body, write to whom you will, and as often as youwill, and what you will.

  It was designed to bring you back by proper authority, or to send youwhither the disgraces you have brought upon us all should be in thelikeliest way, after a while, to be forgotten. But I believe that designis over: so you may range securely--nobody will think it worth while togive themselves any trouble about you. Yet my mother has obtained leaveto send you your clothes of all sorts: but your clothes only. This isa favour you'll see by the within letter not designed you: and now notgranted for your sake, but because my poor mother cannot bear in hersight any thing you used to wear. Read the enclosed, and tremble.

  ARABELLA HARLOWE.

  TO THE MOST UNGRATEFUL AND UNDUTIFUL OF DAUGHTERS HARLOWE-PLACE, APRIL15.

  SISTER THAT WAS!

  For I know not what name you are permitted, or choose to go by.

  You have filled us all with distraction. My father, in the firstagitations of his mind, on discovering your wicked, your shamefulelopement, imprecated on his knees a fearful curse upon you. Trembleat the recital of it!--No less, than 'that you may meet your punishmentboth here and hereafter, by means of the very wretch in whom you havechosen to place your wicked confidence.'

  Your clothes will not be sent you. You seen, by leaving them behind you,to have been secure of them, whenever you demanded them, but perhaps youcould think of nothing but meeting your fellow:--nothing but how to getoff your forward self!--For every thing seems to have been forgottenbut what was to contribute to your wicked flight.--Yet you judged right,perhaps, that you would have been detected had you endeavoured to getaway with your clothes.--Cunning creature! not to make one step that wewould guess at you by! Cunning to effect your own ruin, and the disgraceof all the family!

  But does the wretch put you upon writing for your things, for fear youshould be too expensive to him?--That's it, I suppose.

  Was there ever a giddier creature?--Yet this is the celebrated, theblazing Clarissa--Clarissa what? Harlowe, no doubt!--And Harlowe it willbe, to the disgrace of us all!

  Your drawings and your pieces are all taken down; as is also yourwhole-length picture, in the Vandyke taste, from your late parlour: theyare taken down, and thrown into your closet, which will be nailed up,as if it were not a part of the house, there to perish together: For whocan bear to see them? Yet, how did they use to be shown to every body:the former, for the magnifying of your dainty finger-works; the latter,for the imputed dignity (dignity now in the dust!) of your boastedfigure; and this by those fond parents from whom you have run away withso much, yet with so little contrivance!

  My brother vows revenge upon your libertine--for the family's sake hevows it--not for yours!--for he will treat you, he declares, like acommon creature, if ever he sees you: and doubts not that this will beyour fate.

  My uncle Harlowe renounces you for ever.

  So does my uncle Antony.

  So does my aunt Hervey.

  So do I, base, unworthy creature! the disgrace of a good family, andthe property of an infamous rake, as questionless you will soon findyourself, if you are not already.

  Your books, since they have not taught you what belongs to your family,to your sex, and to your education, will not be sent to you. Your moneyneither. Nor yet the jewels so undeservedly made yours. For it is wishedyou may be seen a beggar along London-streets.

  If all this is heavy, lay your hand to your heart, and ask yourself, whyyou have deserved it?

  Every man whom your pride taught you to reject with scorn (Mr. Solmesexcepted, who, however, has reason to rejoice that he missed you)triumphs in your shameful elopement, and now knows how to account forhis being refused.

  Your worthy Norton is ashamed of you, and mingles her tears with yourmother's; both reproaching themselves for their shares in you, and in sofruitless an education.

  Every body, in short, is ashamed of you: but none more than

  ARABELLA HARLOWE.