 marriage which was thus intended to be forced upon him, dissatisfied with every idea that occurred to him, and having no friend in London to whom he could open his oppressed heart, he determined at length to procure a direction to Celestina, and returning immediately to Cambridge himself, consult a friend he had there, on whose judgment and attachment he had an equal reliance, how he should avoid an alliance with the woman he detested and the hazard he now incurred of losing the woman he adored.
He sent therefore a servant, as soon as he returned to his lodgings, to procure from the servants of Molyneux a copy of the direction that had been put on the

trunks sent to Celestina. This being obtained, he ordered a post chaise, and late as it was, and without giving any account of himself either to his sister or the Castlenorths, he set out for Cambridge, and arrived at his college about four in the morning of the next day.


CELESTINA in the mean time became better reconciled to the plan of life she had adopted; and after being near a week at her new abode, during which time she heard nothing either of Willoughby or his sister, she wrote to the latter as follows:
My dear Mrs. Molyneux will be glad to hear that her wandering friend is settled contentedly, if not happily, in her new abode, and has already subdued her mind to her fortune so much as to regret only the society of those she has been so long accustomed to love, and by no means the scenes in which she has left them. My habitation is in the

house of a man who was formerly master of a coasting vessel, in which occupation having made money enough to support himself and his wife in their old age, and all his children being married and provided for, he built this house a few miles from the port where he used to trade: their only servant is a mere West country paisanne, who does the business which the good old woman herself is unequal to; whose not frequent, but somewhat loud and shrill remonstrances to Jenny, when she is careless or neglectful, are the only sounds I ever hear to remind me that there are such things as anger or contention in the world. The scene around me is now dreary enough; but in a few weeks spring will produce new pleasures for me; and I shall hail the first primrose with as much delight as I can feel from any thing, but from that most welcome sight, the face of an old friend. My dear Matilda, you pity, I know, the

merely negative life
