had two earls at her feet; and, if the object of this reverie had not destroyed her own good fortune by speaking, she was in a fair way of becoming a duchess.
But, though to Emily London was as much an El Dorado as novels and novelty could make it; yet if her first exclamation was delight, her second was, "But, my dear uncle, you will miss me so;" and a long array of solitary walks and lonely rides rose almost reproachfully to her mind. This, however, the uncle would not admit; and youth, if not selfish, is at least thoughtless; so a few minutes saw Emily bounding up stairs, with spirits even lighter than her steps, to answer the important billet, which she had already conned over till she could have repeated it from the "Dear Miss Arundel" at the beginning to the "Alicia C. F. G. Delawarr" of the signature. Many a sheet of paper was thrown aside in various stages, from two to ten lines—twice was the ink changed, and twenty times the pen, before a note worthy of either writer or reader could be effected: but time and the post wait for no man, and necessity was in this case, as in most others, the mother of invention.
The next week passed, as such weeks always
