`But if I must go, I will go alone: if you must stay, it is needless to waste your time in the journey there and back.'

But he did not like the idea of sending me alone.

`Why, what helpless creature do you take me for,' I replied, `that you cannot trust me to go a hundred miles in our own carriage with our own footman and maid to attend me? If you come with me I shall assuredly keep you. But tell me, Arthur, what is this tiresome business; and why did you never mention it before?'

`It is only a little business with my lawyer,' said he; and he told me something about a piece of property he wanted to sell in order to pay off a part of the encumbrances on his estate; but either the account was a little confused or I was rather dull of comprehension, for I could not clearly understand how that should keep him in town a fortnight after me. Still less can I now comprehend how it should keep him a month-- for it is nearly that time since I left him, and no signs of his return as yet, in every letter he promises to be with me in a few days, and every time deceives me--or deceives himself. His excuses are vague and insufficient. I cannot doubt that he is got among his former companions again--Oh, why did I leave him? I wish--I do intensely wish he would return!

June 29th.--No Arthur yet; and for many days I have been looking and longing in vain for a letter. His letters, when they come, are kind--if fair words and endearing epithets can give them a claim to the title-- but very short, and full of trivial excuses and promises that I cannot trust; and yet how anxiously I look forward to them! how eagerly I open and devour one of those little, hastily-scribbled returns for the three or four long letters, hitherto unanswered, he has had from me!

Oh, it is cruel to leave me so long alone! He knows I have no one but Rachel to speak to, for we have no neighbours here, except the Hargraves, whose residence I can dimly descry from these upper windows embosomed among those low, woody hills beyond the dale. I was glad when I learnt that Milicent was so near us; and her company would be a soothing solace to me now, but she is still in town with her mother: there is no one at the Grove but little Esther and her French governess, for Walter is always away, I saw that paragon of manly perfections in London: he seemed scarcely to merit the eulogiums of his mother and sister, though he certainly appeared more conversable and agreeable than Lord Lowborough, more candid and high-minded than Mr Grimsby, and more polished and gentlemanly than Mr Hattersley, Arthur's only other friend whom he judged fit to introduce to me--Oh, Arthur, why won't you come! why won't you write to me at least! You talked about my health--how can you expect me to gather bloom and vigour here, pining in solitude and restless anxiety from day to day?--It would serve you right to come back and find my good looks entirely wasted away. I would beg my uncle and aunt, or my brother, to come and see me, but I do not like to complain of my loneliness to them,--and indeed, loneliness is the least of my sufferings; but what is he doing?--what is it that keeps him away? It is this ever-recurring question and the horrible suggestions it raises that distract me.

July 3rd.--My last bitter letter has wrung from him an answer at last,--and a rather longer one than usual; but still, I don't know what to make of it, He playfully abuses me for the gall and vinegar of my latest effusion, tells me I can have no conception of the multitudinous engagements that keep him away, but avers that, in spite of them all, he will assuredly be with me before the close of next week; though it is impossible for a man, so circumstanced as he is, to fix the precise day of his return: meantime, he exhorts me to the exercise of patience, `that first of woman's virtues,' and desires me to remember the saying, `Absence makes the heart grow fonder,' and comfort myself with the assurance that the longer he stays away, the better he shall love me when he red and till he does return, he begs I will continue to write to him constantly, for, though he is sometimes too idle and often too busy to answer my letters as they come, he likes to receive them daily, and if I fulfil my threat of punishing his seeming neglect by ceasing to write, he shall be so angry that he will do his utmost to forget me. He adds this piece of intelligence respecting poor Milicent Hargrave:--