Clarissa, Volume 9 | Page 7

be so
brutish to abuse a friend, and run mad for a woman. And then he said
he was sorry for it; and then Will. ventured in with water and a towel;
and the dog rejoiced, as I could see by his look, that I had it rather than
he.
And so, by degrees, we brought him a little to his reason, and he
promised to behave more like a man. And so I forgave him: and we
rode on in the dark to here at Doleman's. And we all tried to shame him
out of his mad, ungovernable foolishness: for we told him, as how she
was but a woman, and an obstinate perverse woman too; and how could
he help it?
And you know, Jack, (as we told him, moreover,) that it was a shame to
manhood, for a man, who had served twenty and twenty women as bad
or worse, let him have served Miss Harlowe never so bad, should give
himself such obstropulous airs, because she would die: and we advised
him never to attempt a woman proud of her character and virtue, as
they call it, any more: for why? The conquest did not pay trouble; and
what was there in one woman more than another? Hay, you know,
Jack!--And thus we comforted him, and advised him.
But yet his d--d addled pate runs upon this lady as much now she's dead
as it did when she was living. For, I suppose, Jack, it is no joke: she is
certainly and bonâ fide dead: I'n't she? If not, thou deservest to be
doubly d--d for thy fooling, I tell thee that. So he will have me write for
particulars of her departure.
He won't bear the word dead on any account. A squeamish puppy! How
love unmans and softens! And such a noble fellow as this too! Rot him
for an idiot, and an oaf! I have no patience with the foolish duncical
dog --upon my soul, I have not!
So send the account, and let him howl over it, as I suppose he will.

But he must and shall go abroad: and in a month or two Jemmy, and
you, and I, will join him, and he'll soon get the better of this
chicken-hearted folly, never fear; and will then be ashamed of himself:
and then we'll not spare him; though now, poor fellow, it were pity to
lay him on so thick as he deserves. And do thou, till then, spare all
reflections upon him; for, it seems, thou hast worked him unmercifully.
I was willing to give thee some account of the hand we have had with
the tearing fellow, who had certainly been a lost man, had we not been
with him; or he would have killed somebody or other. I have no doubt
of it. And now he is but very middling; sits grinning like a man in straw;
curses and swears, and is confounded gloomy; and creeps into holes
and corners, like an old hedge-hog hunted for his grease.
And so, adieu, Jack. Tourville, and all of us, wish for thee; for no one
has the influence upon him that thou hast.
R. MOWBRAY.
As I promised him that I would write for the particulars abovesaid, I
write this after all are gone to bed; and the fellow is set out with it by
day-break.

LETTER VII
MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY
NIGHT.
I may as well try to write; since, were I to go to bed, I shall not sleep. I
never had such a weight of grief upon my mind in my life, as upon the
demise of this admirable woman; whose soul is now rejoicing in the
regions of light.
You may be glad to know the particulars of her happy exit. I will try to
proceed; for all is hush and still; the family retired; but not one of them,
and least of all her poor cousin, I dare say, to rest.
At four o'clock, as I mentioned in my last, I was sent for down; and, as
thou usedst to like my descriptions, I will give thee the woeful scene
that presented itself to me, as I approached the bed.
The Colonel was the first that took my attention, kneeling on the side of
the bed, the lady's right hand in both his, which his face covered,
bathing it with his tears; although she had been comforting him, as the
women since told me, in elevated strains, but broken accents.
On the other side of the bed sat the good widow; her face overwhelmed

with tears, leaning her head against the bed's head in a most
disconsolate manner; and turning her face to me, as soon as she saw me,
O Mr. Belford,