with artistic ability, he painted such a sentimental halo
round the 'sacredness of her pledged word,' that Emilia could not resist
a superstitious notion about it, and about what the breaking of it would
imply. Georgiana had removed her down to Monmouth to be out of his way. A
constant flight of letters pursued them both, for Wilfrid was far too
clever to allow letters in his hand-writing to come for one alone of two
women shut up in a country-house together. He saw how the letterless one
would sit speculating shrewdly and spitefully; so he was careful to amuse
his mystified Dragon, while he drew nearer and nearer to his gold apple.
Another object was, that by getting Georgiana to consent to become in
part his confidante, he made it almost a point of honour for her to be
secret with Lady Charlotte.

At last a morning came with no Brookfield letter for either of them. The
letters stopped from that time. It was almost as if a great buzzing had
ceased in Emilia's ears, and she now heard her own sensations clearly. To
Georgiana's surprise, she manifested no apprehension or regret. "Or
else," the lady thought, "she wears a mask to me;" and certainly it was a
pale face that Emilia was beginning to wear. At last came April and its
wild morning. No little female hypocrisies passed between them when they
met; they shook hands at arm's length by the breakfast-table. Then Emilia
said: "I am ready to go to Italy: I will go at once."

Georgiana looked straight at her, thinking: "This is a fit of indignation
with Wilfrid." She answered: "Italy! I fancied you had forgotten there
was such a country."

"I don't forget my country and my friends," said Emilia,

"At least, I must ask the ground of so unexpected a resolution," was
rejoined.

"Do you remember what Merthyr wrote in his letter from Arona? How long it
takes to understand the meaning of some, words! He says that I should not
follow an impulse that is not the impulse of all my nature--myself
altogether. Yes! I know what that means now. And he tells me that my life
is worth more than to be bound to the pledge of a silly moment. It is!
He, Georgey, unkind that you are!--he does not distrust me; but always
advises and helps me: Merthyr waits for me. I cannot be instantly ready
for every meaning in the world. What I want to do, is to see Wilfrid: if
not, I will write to him. I will tell him that I intend to break my
promise."

A light of unaffected pride shone from the girl's