mind, all remaining doubt as to the issue of the affair.

Mary was now aware that every demand of forbearance towards him, of duty
to her child, and even of indulgence to her own deep-rooted
predilection, was discharged. She determined to rouse herself, and cast
off for ever an attachment, which to her had been a spring of
inexhaustible bitterness. Her present residence among the scenes of
nature, was favourable to this purpose. She was at the house of an old
and intimate friend, a lady of the name of Cotton, whose partiality for
her was strong and sincere. Mrs. Cotton's nearest neighbour was Sir
William East, baronet; and, from the joint effect of the kindness of her
friend, and the hospitable and distinguishing attentions of this
respectable family, she derived considerable benefit. She had been
amused and interested in her journey to Norway; but with this
difference, that, at that time, her mind perpetually returned with
trembling anxiety to conjectures respecting Mr. Imlay's future conduct,
whereas now, with a lofty and undaunted spirit, she threw aside every
thought that recurred to him, while she felt herself called upon to make
one more effort for life and happiness.

Once after this, to my knowledge, she saw Mr. Imlay; probably, not long
after her return to town. They met by accident upon the New Road; he
alighted from his horse, and walked with her for some time; and the
rencounter passed, as she assured me, without producing in her any
oppressive emotion.

Be it observed, by the way, and I may be supposed best to have known the
real state of the case, she never spoke of Mr. Imlay with acrimony, and
was displeased when any person, in her hearing, expressed contempt of
him. She was characterised by a strong sense of indignation; but her