But a new subject of uneasiness arose for Fanny: day after day past by, and she heard nothing of Miss Elphinstone. Was it possible that all she had said was but the hasty impulse of the moment—could she have forgotten her?
A fortnight had elapsed, a fortnight of constant suffering.
Suspense was too painful to bear, and Fanny, for the first time, began to fear the approach of illness. She was sitting with a feverish head-ache, when a letter was brought: her hand trembled to such a degree that she could scarcely open it, at length she read as follows:
"Dearest Fanny,
"You never can forgive me—the enclosed letter ought to have been sent the very day after I left Harley Street. I found it in my desk when I arrived from a journey into the country which we have been taking. What you have thought I cannot bear to fancy—I come for you to-morrow at one o'clock. I am
