But here, having tired myself, and I dare say you, I will lay down my pen.
Mr. Solmes is almost continually here: so is my aunt Hervey: so are my two uncles. Something is working against me, I doubt. What an uneasy state is suspense!—When a naked sword, too, seems hanging over one's head!
I hear nothing but what this confident creature Betty throws out in the wantonness of office. Now it is, Why, Miss, don't you look up your things? You'll be called upon, depend upon it, before you are aware. Another time she intimates darkly, and in broken sentences, (as if on purpose to tease me,) what one says, what another; with their inquiries how I dispose of my time? And my brother's insolent question comes frequently in, Whether I am not writing a history of my sufferings?
But I am now used to her pertness: and as it is only through that that I can hear of any thing intended against me, before it is to be put in execution; and as, when she is most impertinent, she pleads a commission for it; I bear with her: yet, now-and-then, not without a little of the heart-burn.
I will deposit thus far. Adieu, my dear. CL. HARLOWE.
Written on the cover, after she went down, with a pencil:
On coming down, I found your second letter of yesterday's date.* I have read it; and am in hopes that the enclosed will in a great measure answer your mother's expectations of me.
* See the next letter.
My most respectful acknowledgements to her for it, and for her very kind admonitions.