neither insisted on Catherine's writing by every post, nor exacted
her promise of transmitting the character of every new acquaintance,
nor a detail of every interesting conversation that Bath might
produce. Everything indeed relative to this important journey was
done, on the part of the Morlands, with a degree of moderation and
composure, which seemed rather consistent with the common feelings
of common life, than with the refined susceptibilities, the tender
emotions which the first separation of a heroine from her family
ought always to excite. Her father, instead of giving her an
unlimited order on his banker, or even putting an hundred pounds
bank-bill into her hands, gave her only ten guineas, and promised
her more when she wanted it.

Under these unpromising auspices, the parting took place, and
the journey began. It was performed with suitable quietness and
uneventful safety. Neither robbers nor tempests befriended them,
nor one lucky overturn to introduce them to the hero. Nothing more
alarming occurred than a fear, on Mrs. Allen's side, of having once
left her clogs behind her at an inn, and that fortunately proved
to be groundless.

They arrived at Bath. Catherine was all eager delight -- her eyes were
here, there, everywhere, as they approached its fine and striking
environs, and afterwards drove through those streets which conducted
them to the hotel. She was come to be happy, and she felt happy
already.

They were soon settled in comfortable lodgings in Pulteney Street.

It is now expedient to give some description of Mrs. Allen, that