Mr. Goodman, thus having settled all his affairs in this world, began to make such preparations for another as are necessary for the best of men. In the mean time, as the least noise was disturbing to him, it was judged proper that Miss Betsy, who could not live without company, should remove. No boarding-place to her mind being yet found, and having done with all hopes of living with her brother, (as she was by this time informed of the true reasons he had for her not doing so) took lodgings in Jermyn Street; and finding the interest of her fortune, through the good management of her guardian, would allow it, hired a maid and foot-boy to wait upon her. The adieu she received from Mr. Goodman was the most tender and affectionate that could be; she was very much moved with it, and sincerely lamented the loss she should sustain of so honest and worthy a friend: but her natural sprightliness would not suffer any melancholy reflections to dwell long upon her mind; and the hurry she was in of sending messages to all her acquaintance, with an account of the change of her situation, very much contributed to dissipate them. This important business was scarce over, and she well settled in her new habitation, when one of Mr. Goodman's footmen brought her a letter from her brother Frank, which had been just left for her by the post. It contained these lines. 'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless. My dear sister, I have been snatched from the brink of the grave, by the skill of one of the best physicians in the world, and the tender, and, I may say, maternal care of our most dear, and truly valuable friend, the excellent Lady Trusty. The first use I make of my recovered health, is to give an account of it to those whom, I flatter myself, will be obliged by the intelligence. I thank you for the many kind wishes you have sent me during the course of my illness, but hoped to have seen, before now, another name subscribed to your letters than that you received from your birth; and cannot help saying, I am a little surprized, that in the two last you favoured me with, you have been entirely silent on a subject you know I have always had very much at heart. I have also very lately received a letter from Mr. Trueworth, wherein he tells me, he is going to his country-seat--expresses the most kind concern for me, but mentions not the least syllable of you, or of his passion. I fear, my dear sister, there is some misunderstanding between you, which would very much trouble me, for your sake especially: but I shall defer what I have to say to you till I have the pleasure of seeing you. I am not yet judged fit to sit my horse for so long a journey; and the places in the stagecoach are all taken for to-morrow, but have secured one in Thursday's coach, and expect to be with you on Saturday. I accompany this to you with another one to my brother,