No, dearest Eleanor, you are mistaken; for, were she twice as giddy
and ten times as volatile as she is, your own Flora could never, never
forget you, nor the happy hours we have spent together, nor the pretty
goldfinches we had in common, nor the little Scotch duets we used to
sing together, nor our longings to change them into Italian, nor our
disappointment when we did so, nor our laughter at Signor Shrikalini,
nor our tears when poor darling Bijou died. And do you remember,
dearest, the charming green lawn where we used to play together, and
plan tricks for your governess? She was very, very cross, though, I
think, we were a little to blame too. However, I was much the worst!
And pray, Eleanor, don't you remember how we used to like being called
pretty, and told of the conquests we should make? Do you like all
that now? For my part, I am tired of it, at least from the generality
of one's flatterers.

Ah! Eleanor, or "heigho!" as the young ladies in novels write, do you
remember how jealous I was of you at ----, and how spiteful I was, and
how you were an angel, and bore with me, and kissed me, and told me
that--that I had nothing to fear? Well, Clar--I mean Mr. Linden, is
now in town and so popular, and so admired! I wish we were at ----
again, for there we saw him every day, and now we don't meet more than
three times a week; and though I like hearing him praised above all
things, yet I feel very uncomfortable when that praise comes from
very, very pretty women. I wish we were at ---- again! Mamma, who is
looking more beautiful than ever, is, very kind! she says nothing to
be sure, but she must see how--that is to say--she must know that--
that I--I mean that Clarence is very attentive to me, and that I blush
and look exceedingly silly whenever he is; and therefore I suppose
that whenever Clarence thinks fit to ask me, I shall not be under the