A en days, and still  come. Mrs. Fairfax said s be surprised if o go straigo London, and to tinent, and not s to come;  unfrequently quitted it in a manner quite as abrupt and unexpected. o feel a strange c t. I ually permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment; but rallying my s, and recollecting my principles, I at once called my sensations to order; and it emporary blunder—ake of supposing Mr. Rocer’s movements a matter in ake a vital interest. Not t I ion of inferiority: on trary, I just said—

    “You o do er of to receive teacégée, and to be grateful for sucful and kind treatment as, if you do your duty, you  to expect at  is tie ures, agonies, and so fort of your order: keep to your caste, and be too self-respecting to lavis, soul, and strengt is not ed and would be despised.”

    I  on ranquilly; but ever and anon vague suggestions kept  involuntarily framing advertisements and pondering conjectures about neuations: ts I did not t germinate and bear fruit if they could.

    Mr. Rocer  upnig brougter.

    “It is from ter,” said s tion. “No urn or not.”

    And  on taking my coffee ( breakfast): it tributed to t circumstance a fiery glo ents of my cup into my saucer, I did not co consider.

    “ell, I sometimes too quiet; but le ,” said Mrs. Fairfax, still e before acles.

    Ere I permitted myself to request an explanation, I tied tring of Adèle’s pinafore, ly—

    “Mr. Rocer is not likely to return soon, I suppose?”