ee that I could hardly bear
to be spoken to, or noticed in any way. Each time the
house-bell rang I gave a start and a rapid glance towards the
door; and each time a servant came in, my heart beat with
intense excitement, which each time subsided into that moody
heaviness which disappointment brings on. On the third evening
since the one I had spent with Edward, I was allowed to go to
him for a few minutes; he was much better, but forbidden to
exert himself. I found him pale but very calm; he seemed
touched with the alternation in my countenance, and implored
me not to worry myself, assuring me that he now felt almost
quite well, and the day after to-morrow he hoped we should all
return to London, announce our marriage, and begin all the
preparations for its celebration. This assurance drove me
almost frantic, for if, during the next twenty-four hours, I
did not hear from Henry, such a proceeding was like plunging
blindfold down a precipice. The only resource I could think of
was to persuade Mr. Middleton to go to London ourselves on the
next day, and as it would be natural that after this week's
absence I should visit Alice, thus to contrive to speak to
Henry. When I went back into the drawing-room I was assailed
by pressing entreaties to sing; and Mr. Middleton's "Come,
Ellen, nonsense!" rendered all excuses or refusals on my part
quite unavailing. I went to the pianoforte, envying the woman
who said to the King of Prussia, when he had put her in prison
for breach of engagement, "You can make me cry, but you can't
make me sing;" for I was assuredly made to sing, while my heart
was quivering with anxiety, and my mind haunted with fears,
which would have made solitude and tears bliss in comparison to
what I had to go through. I had just begun, at Rosa's request,
a French romance, in fourteen stanzas, when the door opened and
a servant walked in with a letter in his hand, which he put
down on a little table where I had laid my work. To this
letter my eyes and all my thoughts were directed; but the
excess of impatience made me afraid of interrupting myself and
asking for it. I sang on, and each time that I attempted to
skip a verse and arrive at the conclusion, Mr. Manby, civilly
and assiduously, reminded me of the omission. At last I
arrived at the fourteenth stanza, and then positively refusing
to sing any more, I gave up my place to Rosa. At that moment
Mr. Middleton, who was walking up and down the room, went up
t