Wednesday, Sept. 6.
At length, my best beloved Miss Clary, every thing is in the wished train—For all your relations are unanimous in your favour—Even your brother and sister are with the foremost to be reconciled to you.
I knew it must end thus! —By patience, and persevering sweetness, what a triumph have you gained!
This happy change is owing to letters received from your physician, from your cousin Morden, and from Mr. Brand.
Colonel Morden will be with you no doubt before this can reach you, with his pocket-book filled with money-bills, that nothing may be wanting to make you easy.
And now, all our hopes, all our prayers are, that this good news may restore you to spirits and health; and that (so long with-held) it may not come too late.
I know how much your dutiful heart will be raised with the joyful tidings I write you, and still shall more particularly tell you of, when I have the happiness to see you: Which will be by next Saturday, at furthest; perhaps on Friday afternoon, by the time you can receive this.
For this day, by the general voice, being sent for, I was received by every one with great goodness and condescension, and intreated (for that was the word they were pleased to use, when I needed no intreaty, I am sure) to hasten up to you, and to assure you of all their affectionate regards to you: And your father bid me say all the kind things that were in my heart to say, in order to comfort and raise you up; and they would hold themselves bound to make them good.
How agreeable is this commission to your Norton! My heart will overflow with kind speeches, never fear! —I am already meditating what I shall say, to chear and raise you up, in the names of every one dear and near to you. And sorry I am, that I cannot this moment set out, as I might, instead of writing, would they favour my eager impatience with their chariot; but as it was not offered, it would be presumption to have asked for it: And tomorrow a hired chaise and pair will be ready; but at what hour I know not.
How I long once more to fold my dear precious young lady to my fond, my more than fond, my maternal bosom!
Your Sister will write to you, and send her letter, with This, by a particular hand.
I must not let them see what I write, because of my wish about the chariot.
Your uncle Harlowe will also write, and (I doubt not) in the kindest terms: For they are all extremely alarmed and troubled at the dangerous way your doctor represents you to be in; as well as delighted with the character he gives you. Would to heaven the good gentleman had written sooner! And yet he writes, that you know not he has now written. But it is all our confidence, and our consolation, that he would not have written at all, had he thought it too late.
They will prescribe no conditions to you, my dear young lady; but will leave all to your own duty and discretion. Only your brother and sister declare, they will never yield to call Mr. Lovelace brother: Nor will your father, I believe, be easily brought to think of him for a son.
I am to bring you down with me as soon as your health and inclination will permit. You will be received with open arms. Every one longs to see you. All the servants please themselves, that they shall be permitted to kiss your hands. The pert Betty’s note is already changed; and she now runs over in your just praises. What friends does prosperity make! What enemies adversity! It always was, and always will be so, in every state of life from the throne to the cottage—But let all be forgotten now on this jubilee change: And may you, my dearest Miss, be capable of rejoicing in this good news; as I know you will rejoice, if capable of any thing.
God preserve you to our happy meeting! And I will, if I may say so, weary Heaven with my incessant prayers to preserve and restore you afterwards!
I need not say how much I am, my dear young lady,
Your ever-affectionate and devoted
Judith Norton .
An unhappy delay as to the chaise, will make it Saturday morning, before I can fold you to my fond heart.