Eleanor, it is your turn; and you shall see how patiently I will
listen to yours. Never fear that you can be too prolix: the diffuser
you are, the easier I shall forgive myself.

Are you fond of poetry, Eleanor? I used to say so, but I never felt
that I was till lately. I will show you my favourite passages in my
favourite poets when you come to see me. You shall see if yours
correspond with mine. I am so impatient to leave this horrid town,
where everything seems dull, yet feverish,--insipid, yet false. Shall
we not be happy when we meet? If your dear aunt will come with you,
she shall see how I (that is my mind) am improved.

Farewell.
Ever your most affectionate,
F. A.




CHAPTER XLVII.

Brave Talbot, we will follow thee.--Henry the Sixth.

"My letter insultingly returned--myself refused admittance; not a
single inquiry made during my illness; indifference joined to positive
contempt. By Heaven, it is insupportable!"

"My dear Clarence," said Talbot to his young friend, who, fretful from
pain and writhing beneath his mortification, walked to and fro his
chamber with an impatient stride; "my dear Clarence, do sit down, and