contraire; "Nothing," said he to me the other day, when he was in full
pout, "nothing is so plebeian as good-humour!"

I wish, then, Eleanor, that he could see your governess: she must be
majesty itself in his eyes!

Ah, dearest, how we belie ourselves! At this moment, when you might
think, from the idle, rattling, silly flow of my letter, that my heart
was as light and free as it was when we used to play on the green
lawn, and under the sunny trees, in the merry days of our childhood,
the tears are running down my cheeks; see where they have fallen on
the page, and my head throbs as if my thoughts were too full and heavy
for it to contain. It is past one! I am alone, and in my own room.
Mamma is gone to a rout at H---- House, but I knew I should not meet
Clarence there, and so said I was ill, and remained at home. I have
done so often of late, whenever I have learned from him that he was
not going to the same place as Mamma. Indeed, I love much better to
sit alone and think over his words and looks; and I have drawn, after
repeated attempts, a profile likeness of him; and oh, Eleanor, I
cannot tell you how dear it is to me; and yet there is not a line, not
a look of his countenance which I have not learned by heart, without
such useless aids to my memory. But I am ashamed of telling you all
this, and my eyes ache so, that I can write no more.

Ever, as ever, dearest Eleanor, your affectionate friend. F. A.

LETTER III.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.