ow nothing of it before it should be
all over, and we were clever enough to prevent her
having any suspicion of it, though Jenny, who had
been left here by her mistress, was sent for home.

Steventon: Sunday [November 25, 1798].

MY DEAR SISTER,--I expected to have heard from you
this morning, but no letter is come. I shall not
take the trouble of announcing to you any more of
Mary's children, if, instead of thanking me for
the intelligence, you always sit down and write to
James. I am sure nobody can desire your letters
so much as I do, and I don't think anybody
deserves them so well.

Having now relieved my heart of a great deal of
malevolence, I will proceed to tell you that Mary
continues quite well, and my mother tolerably so.
I saw the former on Friday, and though I had seen
her comparatively hearty the Tuesday before, I was
really amazed at the improvement which three days
had made in her. She looked well, her spirits were
perfectly good, and she spoke much more vigorously
than Elizabeth did when we left Godmersham. I had
only a glimpse at the child, who was asleep; but
Miss Debary told me that his eyes were large,
dark, and handsome. _She_ looks much as she used
to do, is netting herself a gown in worsteds, and
wears what Mrs. Birch would call a _pot hat_. A
short and compendious history of Miss Debary!

* * * * *

We have got _Fitz-Albini_;[84] my father has
bought it against my private wishes, for it does
not quite satisfy my feelings that we should
purchase the only one of Egerton's works of which
his family are ashamed. That these scruples,
however, do not at all interfere with my reading
it, you will easily believe. We have neither of us
yet finished the first volume. My father is
disappointed--_I_ am not, for I expected nothing
better. Never did any book carry more internal
evidence of its author. Every sentiment is
completely Egerton's. There is very little story,
and what there is is told in a strange,
unconnected way. There are many character