He smiled, and called himself my servant.—The occasion was too fair, he said, for Miss Howe, who never spared him, to let it pass.—But, Lord help the shallow souls of the Harlowes! Would I believe it! they were for turning plotters upon him. They had best take care he did not pay them in their own coin. Their hearts were better turned for such works than their heads.
I asked him, If he valued himself upon having a head better turned than theirs for such works, as he called them?
He drew off: and then ran into the highest professions of reverence and affection for you.
The object so meritorious, who can doubt the reality of his professions?
Adieu, my dearest, my noble friend!—I love and admire you for the generous conclusion of your last more than I can express. Though I began this letter with impertinent raillery, knowing that you always loved to indulge my mad vein; yet never was there a heart that more glowed with friendly love, than that of
Your own ANNA HOWE.
LETTER XIII
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY, MARCH 1.
I now take up my pen to lay before you the inducements and motive which my friends have to espouse so earnestly the address of this Mr. Solmes.