overy. I stay within entirely; the season
is over now, and there are no parties: but I tremble at the thought of
meeting him even in the Park or the Gardens. Papa talks of going into
the country next week. I cannot tell you how eagerly I look forward to
it: and you will then come and see me; will you not, dearest Eleanor?

Ah! what happy days we will have yet: we will read Italian together, as
we used to do; you shall teach me your songs, and I will instruct you
in mine; we will keep birds as we did, let me see, eight years ago. You
will never talk to me of my folly: let that be as if it had never been;
but I will wonder with you about your future choice, and grow happy in
anticipating your happiness. Oh, how selfish I was some weeks ago! then
I could only overwhelm you with my egotisms: now, Eleanor, it is your
turn; and you shall see how patiently I will listen to yours. Never fear
that you can be too prolix: the diffuser you are, the easier I shall
forgive myself.

Are you fond of poetry, Eleanor? I used to say so, but I never felt that
I was till lately. I will show you my favourite passages in my favourite
poets when you come to see me. You shall see if yours correspond with
mine. I am so impatient to leave this horrid town, where everything
seems dull, yet feverish,--insipid, yet false. Shall we not be happy
when we meet? If your dear aunt will come with you, she shall see how I
(that is my mind) am improved.

Farewell. Ever your most affectionate,
F. A.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Brave Talbot, we will follow thee.--Henry the Sixth.

"My letter insultingly returned--myself refused admittance; not a
single inquiry made during my illness; indifference joined to positive
contempt. By Heaven, it is insupportable!"

"My dear Clarence," said Talbot to his young friend, who, fretful from
pain and writhing beneath his mortification, walked to and fro his
chamber with an impatient stride; "my dear Clarence, do sit down, and
not irritate your wound by such violent exercise. I am as much enraged
as yourself at the treatment you have received, and no less at a loss to
account for it. Your duel, however unfortunate the event, must have
done you credit, and obtained you a reputation both for generosity
and spirit; so that it cannot be to that occurrence that you are to
attribute the change. Let us rather suppose that Lady Flora's attachment
to you has become evident to her father and mo