rained from writing by return of
post to desire you instantly to come home. This would,
however, have caused a sort of sensation, which, he felt
himself, was undesirable; but now, he will hear of no delay,
and my maid will arrive at Brandon the day after you receive
this letter, and you will set off with her on the following
morning. I think it right to tell you, dearest child, that Mr.
Middleton, in speaking to me of Henry the other day, expressed
his determination never again to allow him to make up to you,
or you to encourage in him the least hope of a marriage, which
he is perfectly resolved never to give his consent to. He has
desired me to tell you so, and to write to Henry to the same
effect. You know (as we have often said to each other,) your
uncle dislikes Henry, and that makes him, no doubt, more
positive still on the subject than he might otherwise be; but
I must admit myself, that my brother having no fortune
whatever, and not having ever set about in earnest following
up any profession, a marriage with him would be not only
undesirable for you, but, in fact, impossible.

"You may be surprised, my own dearest child, at my speaking to
you in this way of an affair which, perhaps, you yourself have
not taken into consideration. I earnestly wish that Henry may
not have made such an impression upon you, as to make this
warning necessary; but, after what I saw here--though perhaps
too late--and what I have heard goes on at Brandon, I scarcely
venture to hope so.

"I will not talk to you, my own Ellen, of the happiness which
your return will give me: you are the joy of my life; the star
in my dark night; my best beloved, my precious child. If your
tears should flow, if your young heart should ache, come to
me, dearest, and lay your head on my bosom, and find in my
love, which shall know no change, 'a shelter from the storm, a
refuge from the tempest.'"

I pressed to my lips Mrs. Middleton's letter, but remained
agitated by a number of conflicting feelings. She seemed
unhappy, and I could not help thinking, that besides the
anxiety she expressed about the state of my feelings, she was
also grieved at my uncle's harsh decision against her brother.
I was vexed too at being _ordered_ back to Elmsley, I had been
spoiled by unlimited indulgence, and unvarying tenderness, and
though bitter sorrow had come upon me, and I had gone through
severe suffering, it had not come in the form of discipline,
or been turned t