As to the Indelicacy of _Clarissa's_ seeking _Lovelace_, said _Bellario_, 'I confess I do not see it; however, I will leave that matter to be decided by the Ladies', who all agreed, that they thought it no Breach of the strictest Modesty to declare it was their Opinion, that the whole Scene, as it now stands, is what it _should be_, and would have admited of no Alteration, but for the worse; that the picturesque Manner in which a young Woman, without Fear or Confusion, beholds the Man who dared imagine his Guilt could baffle all her Resolutions, and sink her Soul to Cowardice, most beautifully displays the Power of conscious Innocence; and, on the other hand, that the confused Mind, the flattering Speech, unavoidable even by a _Lovelace_ when his guilty Soul was awed by the Presence of an Object injured beyond the Power of Reparation, displays the Deformity of Wickedness in all its Force. In short, this Scene was allowed to be Virtue's Triumph, and _Clarissa's_ Conduct to be a direct Opposition to that of all those whining Women, who blubber out an humble Petition to be joined for Life to the Men who have betrayed them. Had not _Clarissa_ seen _Lovelace_, said Miss _Gibson_, her Triumph could never have been so compleat; and as I think the Impossibility of her Escape at that time, from Mrs. _Sinclair's_, is very apparent, had she not sought him, the true Lovers of _Clarissa_ must have mourned the Loss of seeing her Behaviour in such an uncommon Situation. _Bellario_ gave these Sentiments a Sanction by his Approbation, and the rest of the Company either concurr'd with his Opinion, or at least did not contradict him; and the next Day Miss _Gibson_ received the following Letter from _Bellario_. ~_MADAM_~, You seem'd so pleased last Night with my Conversion, if I may be allowed the Expression, to your Favourite _Clarissa_, that I could not seek any Repose till I had thrown together my Thoughts on that Head, in order to address them to you; nor am I ashamed to confess, that the Author's Design is more noble, and his Execution of it much happier, than I even suspected till I had seen the whole. In a Series of familiar Letters to relate a compleat Story, where there is such a Variety of Characters, every one conducing to the forming the necessary Incidents to the Completion of that Story, is a Method so intirely new, so much an Original manner of Writing, that the Author seems to have a Right to make his own Laws; the painting Nature is indeed his Aim, but the Vehicle by which he conveys his lively Portraits to the Mind is so much his own Invention, that he may guide and direct it according to his own Will and Pleasure. _Aristotle_ drew his Rules of Epic Poetry from _Homer_, and not _Homer_ from _Aristotle_; tho' had they been Cotemporaries, perhaps that had been a Point much disputed.