Wedn morning, Sept. 6.

Dear Sister,
We have just heard that you are exceedingly ill. We all loved you as never young creature was loved: You are sensible of That, Sister Clary. And you have been very naughty—But we could not be angry always.


We are indeed more afflicted with the news of your being so very ill than I can express: For I see not but, after this separation (as we understand that your misfortune has been greater than your fault, and that, however unhappy, you have demeaned yourself like the good young creature you used to be) we shall love you better, if possible, than ever.


Take comfort therefore, Sister Clary; and don’t be too much cast down—Whatever your mortifications may be from such noble prospects over-clouded, and from the reflections you will have from within, on your faulty step, and from the fullying of such a charming character by it, you will receive none from any of us: And, as an earnest of your Papa’s and Mamma’s favour and reconciliation, they assure you by me of their Blessing and hourly prayers.


If it will be any comfort to you, and my mother finds this letter is received as we expect (which we shall know by the good effect it will have upon your health) she will herself go to town to you. Mean time, the good woman you so dearly love will be hastened up to you; and she writes by this opportunity, to acquaint you of it, and of all our returning love.


I hope you’ll rejoice at this good news. Pray let us hear that you do. Your next grateful letter on this occasion, especially if it gives us the pleasure of hearing you are better upon this news, will be received with the same (if not greater) delight, that we used to have in all your prettily-penn’d epistles. Adieu, my dear Clary! I am


Your loving Sister, and true Friend,

Arabella Harlowe .

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