Emma looked down, and tried to appear quite careless and unconcerned; but she could not feel quite convinced that she did enjoy the degree of heart's ease, which Mr. Bridge seemed to imagine. An image of Mr. Howard flitted across her mind, and she felt that whilst enumerating her peculiar afflictions, she had omitted one which pressed almost as deeply as any. She blushed deeply, and could not raise her eyes; he watched her countenance, and then added, presently—

"What do you mean to do now—have you formed any plan?"

"None at all," replied she; "I feel I cannot—my head is all in confusion, and I can hardly think connectedly."

She pressed her hand on her forehead as she spoke; he saw she was looking extremely ill, and feared her mind was over excited.

"My first wish," she continued, "the first object of my life would be to get away from Croydon, to see no more of those who slander me, or him who causes the slander to circulate. But this I cannot do; whilst I have no other refuge, and whilst Margaret's marriage is approaching, I suppose I must not go. But if I could but leave them all, and have a little peace and quiet—it is sometimes more than I can bear; the perpetual worry, and the incessant anxiety to please without success—and those thoughts that will come back in spite of all that I can do—thoughts of regret for past happiness, and hopeless pining for what I may never see again."

"And you are quite sincere in wishing to leave Croydon, and go where you will see no more of Mr. Morgan? is it no momentary pique that influences you, no hope of being followed, no expectation of producing some great effect by your disappearance."

"I wish I could convince you, Mr. Bridge, that whatever the world of Croydon may impute to me, whatever it may choose to say for me, Mr. Morgan was never an object of any peculiar interest in my eyes, and since they have associated our names to my discredit, he is become positively disagreeable. To shun him altogether is, just now, my first wish."

"Then, perhaps, I may help you there; I will, at least, try—your desolate situation interests me deeply—poor girl—you look terribly worn and flushed—go home, and lie down to rest; try and compose your mind, and hope for better things. But above all, my child, endeavour to subdue a repining spirit, and remember that there is One above, who is the Father of the fatherless, and who has promised never to forsake those who call upon Him faithfully!"

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