horizon of London now became visible, the road soon became a street, the wilderness of houses closed round them, and the whole party sank into silence. Lady Anne was too cross to talk, Mary was sad with that weight which was perpetual at her heart, and Helen was quite tired. Louisa was secretly the best satisfied of the party, for Louisa was in love; and, though the chances of seeing him were small, yet it was some thing even to be in the same place with the object of her affection.
Tired, cold, and hungry, the whole party arrived in Welbeck Street. Lady Anne at once retired to her bedroom, the only room in the house where a good fire had been kept up all day. The page was sent for some soup to a confectioner's, and, as soon as it could be made ready, some grilled chicken was carried up on a tray. She had a glass of warm sherry and water, and, with her arm-chair, and a large shawl, her ladyship managed to be tolerably comfortable.
The girls, in the meantime, were crowding in the back parlour over a small, smoky grate, where they had some difficulty in getting the fire to burn at all, each having cast a wistful glance at the cheerful-looking windows of their opposite neighbours.
While they are waiting for their small allowance of mutton chops, and making that superfluous exertion which, in common parlance, is called keeping the fire warm, we will go a little back upon our story. The giant laid down one of the first principles of narrative
