Regardless, nevertheless, I shall be in all I write, of connection, accuracy, or of any thing but of my own imperial will and pleasure.
LETTER VIII
MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE WEDNESDAY NIGHT, APRIL 12.
I have your narrative, my dear. You are the same noble creature you ever were. Above disguise, above art, above attempting to extenuate a failing.
The only family in the world, yours, surely, that could have driven such a daughter upon such extremities.
But you must not be so very much too good for them, and for the case.
You lay the blame so properly and so unsparingly upon your meeting him, that nothing can be added to that subject by your worst enemies, were they to see what you have written.
I am not surprised, now I have read your narrative, that so bold and so contriving a man—I am forced to break off——