her sister took her hand, and said, "But we know very well that you did it to let us go—do not be angry"—all unkindly feeling dissolved at the first word, and the two girls kissed each other with an affection, perhaps the more tender for such slight difference.
"We must not," said Isabella, "keep Mrs. Palmer waiting tea for us."
The little party took the hint, and all prepared with shawl and bonnet, excepting Mary and Louisa, both of whom pleaded fatigue. Both wished to be silent, though from different causes. Every day Mary felt more and more disinclined to exertion, and Louisa had a heart filled with those sweet fancies, over which we delight to muse alone. She was expecting just a few lines of welcome—one of those letters which we are fain to read by ourselves, and whose charm belongs to the loveliest dream that haunts even youth.
Helen, Georgiana, and Isabella, soon crossed the street, ran up stairs, without waiting to be announced, and found themselves in Mrs. Palmer's drawing room. It was a complete contrast to the back parlour they had just left. The fire blazed, and the red curtains excluded every breath of the damp night air. Sofa and chairs were drawn towards the fireside, and Mrs. Palmer was already seated at a tea-table loaded with cakes, toast, and preserves. The kettle was singing on the side, and a thin white column of smoke announced, that desideratum of tea-makers, that the water boiled at a gallop.
