 the day before they set out; that some business, as to his estates, detained him afterwards five or six days in London; but that he was now gone to the Castlenorth family at Paris, and was to proceed with them to pass the summer in Italy. The same account found its way into the

public prints, and was received without any doubt.—Celestina shed many tears over the first information she received, and then accusing herself of folly, tried to dry them, and to detach her mind from thinking of Willoughby—but this no effort enabled her to do; and though all anxiety was now lost in the most painful certainty, she sunk from fruitless solicitude into hopeless dejection.
In such a frame of mind Lady Horatia found her—when after a separation of about three weeks, she rejoined her at Cheltenham. With her arrived Montague Thorold, quite recovered of his wound, deriving from it, and from thus being allowed to attend Celestina, more hope than ever; while his love seemed to have increased, if to increase were possible; and while his sufferings and his merit certainly rendered him interesting to Celestina, and combined to entitle him to her friendship, her pity, and esteem; she felt, and felt with regret, that, decided as she believed her fate now to be in regard to Willoughby—friendship, esteem, and pity, were yet all she could give to Montague Thorold.


WlLLOUGHBY, with every sensation that could render such a journey unpleasant, proceeded to Paris, where he learned that his uncle impatiently waited for him;—had he gone immediately to him, he must have crush'd at once, all the expectations his appearance raifed: and the shock must have been too great and too cruel. He determined at first, therefore, to write to Lady Castlenorth—yet after some reflection, doubted whether it would not be better to give the letter he had received to Miss Fitz-Hayman; and leave it to her to find the means of dismissing him, without his being compelled to assign the true reason. It was still possible that the charges against her might be unfounded or exaggerated.

It is possible, that were they neither, he might rescue her from the abyss to which she seemeed to be devoting herself.—But, from the pride and violence of her temper, and from that imperious spirit, which had never yet borne to be told of an error, he not only felt great uneasiness from the idea of the scene that was before him, but doubted whether the person for whose sake he was willing to encounter it, would not baffle all his endeavours to rescue her
