 former style to Celestina as it was, his sister immediately resolved to suppress. Her hatred to Celestina was increased to a degree of inveterate malignity of which it was difficult to conceive her haughty indolence was capable; and this arose chiesly from the admiration she every where saw her beauty excited, which was a point in which she could not bear to be excelled. Convinced as she internally was, that Celestina was an orphan stranger, brought up on her mother's charity, she chose rather to leave the report of their relationship uncontradicted, than to see her united to her brother, and put on a footing with herself, to which that equivocal relationship could give her no claim: and since the suppression of her letter to Willoughby, which an interview now would explain, she was doubly solicitous to prevent it—Her pride could not bear that her brother should become the humble and reduced country gentleman that he must submit to be if he married a woman without fortune; and her avarice represented the possibility of his being, in such a case, a burthen on his affluent relations.

All these considerations determined her to stifle it, and the sentence with which the letter concluded, assured her she might do it with impunity. She therefore called up Farnham, on whose simplicity it was very easy to impose, and told him that the letter to Mr. Vavasour was very immaterial, and that he might carry that; but that the other to Miss de Mornay, was of a nature to involve his master in great difficulties, and that therefore she would destroy it. She then put it in the fire; and bide him carry the other, which she had carefully re-sealed. This Farnham immediately did; but being unwilling to be guilty of a greater falsehood than there seemed to be occasion for, he actually went to Park-street that he might tell his master he had been there.
On his return, Willoughby questioned him who he saw at Lady Horatia's.—For this question the poor fellow was not prepared.—However he answered—"I saw John, Sir, my Lady's own footman."
"Well—and was Miss de Mornay at home?"

"No, Sir," replied Farnham, who had now acquired courage; "but you know you bade me not wait for an answer."
"Well, but had you not the sense to ask where she was?"
"No, Sir; to be sure I did not think of that: but, however, I fancy she was visiting, Sir, the wounded gentleman in Oxford-street."
Willoughby knew
