ABSTRACT
I never told you, my dear Rosamond, that the beautiful Constance was Mr Gresham’s daughter; I told you only that I saw her at his house. To the best of my belief, she is no relation to him. She is daughter to Mr Gresham’s sick partner. — And this partner, — now Rosamond, here is coincidence, if not romance, enough to please you — this partner is Mr Panton, the London correspondent of the shipwrecked Dutch merchants, the very Panton and Co., to whom my father lately wrote to recommend Godfrey’s friend, young Captain Henry — captain no more. — I have not seen him yet, he is invisible in the counting-house, / in the remote city, in ultimate Broad-Street, far as pole from pole, from me at Mrs Panton’s fine house in Grosvenor Square.
