when they will not bear much from other
men.

'He has not mentioned her name. I am sure she has not written.

'Pity him, and pray for him.'

Juliana then makes a communication, which draws forth the following:--

'Mistress of all the Beckley property-dearest, dearest Juliana! Oh! how
sincerely I congratulate you! The black on the letter alarmed me so, I
could hardly open it, my fingers trembled so; for I esteem you all at
Beckley; but when I had opened and read it, I was recompensed. You say
you are sorry for Rose. But surely what your Grandmama has done is quite
right. It is just, in every sense. But why am I not to tell Evan? I am
certain it would make him very happy, and happiness of any kind he needs
so much! I will obey you, of course, but I cannot see why. Do you know,
my dear child, you are extremely mysterious, and puzzle me. Evan takes a
pleasure in speaking of you. You and Lady Jocelyn are his great themes.
Why is he to be kept ignorant of your good fortune? The spitting of
blood is bad. You must winter in a warm climate. I do think that London
is far better for you in the late Autumn than Hampshire. May I ask my
sister Harriet to invite you to reside with her for some weeks? Nothing,
I know, would give her greater pleasure.'

Juliana answers this--

'If you love me--I sometimes hope that you do--but the feeling of being
loved is so strange to me that I can only believe it at times--but,
Caroline--there, I have mustered up courage to call you by your
Christian name at last--Oh, dear Caroline! if you do love me, do not
tell Mr. Harrington. I go on my knees to you to beg you not to tell him
a word. I have no reasons indeed not any; but I implore you again never
even to hint that I am anything but the person he knew at Beckley.

'Rose has gone to Elburne House, where Ferdinand, her friend, is to meet
her. She rides and sings the same, and keeps all her colour.

'She may not, as you imagine, have much sensibility. Perhaps not enough.
I am afraid that Rose is turning into a very worldly woman!

'As to what you kindly say about inviting me to London, I should like
it, and I am my own mistress. Do you know, I think I am older than your
brother! I am twenty-three. Pray, when you write, tell me if he is older
than that. But should I not be a dreadful burden to you? Sometimes I
have to keep to my chamber whole days and days. When that happens now, I
think of you entirely. See how I open my heart to you. You sa