The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

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CLARA HOWARD; OR,

and all your friends, the anxieties your present absence
has produced. That rashness may excite remorse, but
it cannot be recalled; let it then be speedily forgotten,
and let this letter put a stop to your flight.
Dear Philip, come back. All the addition of which
my present happiness is capable must come from you.
The heartfelt approbation, the sweet, ineffable complacency, with which my present feelings are attended,
want nothing to merit the name of perfect happiness but
to be witnessed and applauded by you.
Your Clara-that noblest of women-joins me in recalling you, and is as eager to do justice to your passion
as I am to recompense the merits of Sedley: therefore,
my friend, if you value my happiness or Clara's, come
back. Will you not obey the well-known voice, calling
you to virtue and felicity, of
Your sister, MARY WILMOT?
LETTER XXXI.
To Clara Howard.
Wilmington, May 17.
I HAVE received and have read your letter. To say
thus much is enough. From what a depth of humiliation
and horror have I emerged! How quickly was I posting
to my ignominy and my ruin! Your letter overtook me
at this place, where a benignant fate decreed that I
should be detained by sickness. Clara, thou hast judged
truly. My eyes are open to my folly and my infatuation. The mists that obscured my sight are gone; I am
once more a reasonable creature.
How shall I atone for my past misconduct, or compensate thee, my heavenly monitor, for the disquiet
which thou hast endured for my sake? By hastening
to thy feet, and pouring out before thee the tears of
my repentance. Thy forgiveness is all that I dare claim:
thy tenderness I do not merit. Years of service and
self-denial are requisite to qualify me for receiving that
best gift.
Your letter, with one from Mary, was left upon my