pity Emily's situation very sincerely. She foresaw all the disagreeables of her foolish aunt's still more foolish marriage, to one especially who was so friendless and whose beauty and fortune seemed to be so singularly without their usual advantages.
Lady Mandeville was, like most affectionate tempers, hasty in her attachments. The person to whom she could be kind was always the person she liked, and was, moreover, the most perfect person possible. Perhaps there was a little authority in her affection—certainly it was a very creative faculty; and long before Emily came, her new friend had sketched out for her a most promising futurity—a brilliant marriage, &c. &c. &c.; nay, had communicated a portion to her husband, who, as usual, smiled, and said, "Very well, my dear; we shall see."
Whatever the future might be, the present was most delightful. It had been so long since Emily had spoken to any one capable of even comprehending a single idea, much less of entering into a single feeling, that conversation was like a new sense of existence.
How irksome, how wearying, to be doomed always to the society of those who are like people speaking different languages! It re-
