Thursday, Aug. 10.
It was an act of charity I begged: Only for a last blessing, that I might die in peace. I ask not to be received again, as my severe sister (Oh! that I had not written to her!) is pleased to say, is my view. Let that grace be denied me when I do!
I could not look forward to my last scene with comfort, without seeking, at least, to obtain the blessing I petitioned for; and that with a contrition so deep, that I deserved not, were it known, to be turned over from the tender nature of a mother, to the upbraiding pen of an uncle; and to be wounded by a cruel question, put by him in a shocking manner; and which a little, a very little time, will better answer than I can: For I am not either a harden’d or shameless creature: If I were, I should not have been so solicitous to obtain the favour I sued for.
And permit me to say, that I asked it as well for my father and mother’s sake, as for my own; for I am sure, They at least will be uneasy, after I am gone, that they refused it to me.
I should still be glad to have theirs, and yours, Sir, and all your blessings, and your prayers: But, denied in such a manner, I will not presume again to ask it: Relying intirely on the Almighty’s; which is never denied, when supplicated for with such true penitence, as I hope mine is.
God preserve my dear uncle, and all my honoured friends! prays
Your unhappy Clarissa Harlowe .