which, by the way, he is reading in the original. He seems to read
every possible language, although he declares he speaks nothing but
English. We did not talk at all about ourselves, so I know nothing
further about him, save that he lives in a cottage on the heath
towards Miltonhoe, with his father and his aunt.

When we parted company, he asked me if I would mind going to see his
aunt.

"I believe," said he, "that she ought to call first on you,--at
least, she says so,--but that she'll never do. If I landed her at
your very door, she'd never find courage to ring the bell."

"Very well," said I; "I'll come to her instead."

And the sprite vanished.

I think I shall go to-morrow, or perhaps next day.

Good-bye, sweet,
Your EMILIA.




LETTER XIV.


GRAYSMILL, October 23d.