As for myself, my situation was beyond the power of description; pardon the tears which the recollection draws from me: My grief was intense, but not bitter: I admired the man who had inflicted it, if possible, still more than ever; I loved him better for being thus forsaken by him; and I had one satisfaction which accompanied every thought, that he still loved me to excess. Tho’ I had lost his conversation, I preserved his affection: This was a resource, in which my heart found relief from despair, tho’ not from regret.

I had desired Mr. Senwill not to send me the money he insisted on my accepting, till the day after his marriage; that I might have an opportunity of enquiring how he had supported his spirits. Accordingly on the appointed day, the friend, who had before been with me, came and delivered me a pocket book, wherein he said the sum was inclosed.

My thoughts were so much more employed on the giver than on the gift, that, instead of opening it, I enquired after Mr. Senwill's health; and learnt from his friend, that he was not able, till the evening of the day after he was with me, to wait either on his father or his mistress; that the former excused it, knowing the struggle in his heart, and was sufficiently thankful to him for conquering his inclinations at all: The latter knew not the cause of this seeming neglect, which he attributed to illness, and with great truth, for the body cannot be well when the mind is so ill at ease. She had, during the whole negotiation, perceived a melancholy in Mr. Senwill, which had given her some apprehensions: she thought him but little of a lover; but the affection which made her feel it the more sensibly, inclined her to over-look it, and rather to seem ignorant of it, than run the hazard of an explanation, which might be worse than doubt.