ng lady's fashion to imagine the defect anywhere but in her
own judgment, there were symptoms of the mischief having been by her
attributed to the Church of England. As if to console herself for the
shock she had sustained, she was turning to a new fancy, for when
a woman once begins to live upon excitement, she will seek for the
intoxication anywhere.

This perception made Lady Elizabeth resolve that as long as she was
mistress of Rickworth, she would not again invite Miss Marstone thither;
while Emma was equally determined not to go home without her only
friend. Thus the mother and daughter lingered on in London, Theresa
often coming to spend the day with Emma, and Lady Elizabeth having
recourse to the Martindale family, and trying to make herself of use by
amusing the children, sitting in Arthur's room, or taking Theodora for a
walk or drive.

One morning she came in to say that Emma was going to drive to Islington
to call upon Miss Marstone, who had gone two days previously to stay
with some friends there, and to beg that Theodora would accompany
her. Aware that it would be as great a penance to Emma as to herself,
Theodora would fain have been excused, but let herself be overruled on
Lady Elizabeth's promise to supply her place at home, and assurance that
it would be a positive relief that she should be of the party, even if
she did not get out of the carriage, as a check upon the length of time
Emma would spend with her friend.

The two unwilling companions set forth, each in her own comer of the
carriage, Emma leaning back, her thick blue veil hiding her face;
Theodora, who always repudiated veils, sitting upright, her face turned,
so as to catch the breeze on her hot temples, wishing she could turn
herself into Violet, and possess her power of sweet persuasion and
consolation. She could think of nothing to say, and began at last to
fear that her silence might appear unkind. She tried to interest Emma
by speaking of Johnnie, but she only obtained brief replies, and the
conversation had dropped before they left the streets and entered on
suburban scenery. Theodora exclaimed at a gorgeous Virginian creeper--

'Almost as fine as the one at the Priory,' said she.

Emma looked and sighed.

'Rickworth must be in high glory. I know nothing prettier than the
many-coloured woods sloping into the meadow, with the soft mist rising.
You will find home beautiful.'

'I cannot bear the thought of it,' said Emma, in an u