I wonder whether Clarence knows that I have been ill? I wish you knew
him. Well, dearest, this letter--a very unhandsome return, I own, for
yours--must content you at present, for they will not let me write
more; though, so far as I am concerned, I am never so weak, in frame I
mean, but what I could scribble to you about him.

Addio, carissima. F. A.

I have prevailed on Mamma, who wished to sit by me and amuse me, to go
to the Opera to-night, the only amusement of which she is particularly
fond. Heaven forgive me for my insincerity, but he always comes into
our box, and I long to hear some news of him.

LETTER II.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

Eleanor, dearest Eleanor, I am again very ill, but not as I was
before, ill from a foolish vexation of mind: no, I am now calm and
even happy. It was from an increase of cold only that I have suffered
a relapse. You may believe this, I assure you, in spite of your well
meant but bitter jests upon my infatuation, as you very rightly call
it, for Mr. Linden. You ask me what news from the Opera? Silly girl
that I was, to lie awake hour after hour, and refuse even to take my
draught, lest I should be surprised into sleep, till Mamma returned.
I sent Jermyn down directly I heard her knock at the door (oh, how
anxiously I had listened for it!) to say that I was still awake and
longed to see her. So, of course, Mamma came up, and felt my pulse,
and said it was very feverish, and wondered the draught had not
composed me; with a great deal more to the same purpose, which I bore