I live for
nothing, only to take my chance everywhere with my friend. I want to
smell powder. My father says it is like salt, the taste of blood, and is
like wine when you smell it. I have heard him shout for it. I will go to
Italy, if I may go where my friend Merthyr goes; but nothing can keep me
shut up now. My head's a wilderness when I'm in houses. I can scarcely
bear to hear this London noise, without going out and walking till I
drop."

Coming to a knot in her meditation, Georgiana concluded that Emilia's
heart was warming to Merthyr. She was speedily doubtful again.

These two delicate Welsh natures, as exacting as they were delicate,
were little pleased with Emilia's silence concerning her intercourse
with Wilfrid. Merthyr, who had expressed in her defence what could be
said for her, was unwittingly cherishing what could be thought in
her disfavour. Neither of them hit on the true cause, which lay in
Georgiana's coldness to her. One little pressure of her hand, carelessly
given, made Merthyr better aware of the nature he was dealing with. He
was telling her that a further delay might keep them in London for a
week; and that he had sent for her mother to come to her.

"I must see my mother," she had said, excitedly. The extension of
the period named for quitting England made it more imminent m her
imagination than when it was a matter of hours. "I must see her."

"I have sent for her," said Merthyr, and then pressed Emilia's hand. But
she who, without having brooded on complaints of its absence, thirsted
for demonstrative kindness, clung to the hand, drawing it, doubled,
against her chin.

"That is not the reason," she said, raising her full eyes up at him over
the unrelinquished hand. "I love the poor Madre; let her come; but I
have no heart for her just now. I have seen Wilfrid."

She took a tighter hold of his fingers, as fearing he might shrink from
her. Merthyr hated mysteries, so he said, "I supposed it must have been
so--that night of our return from Penarvon?"

"Yes," she murmured, while she read his face for a shadow of a
repulsion; "and, my friend, I cannot go to Italy now!"

Merthyr immediately drew a seat beside her. He perceived that there
would be no access to her reason, even as he was on the point of
addressing it.

"Then all my care and trouble are to be thrown away?" he said, taking
the short road to her feelings.

She put the hand that was disengaged softly on his shoulder. "No; no