lation. Emmy was much too sad to answer her, or even to be aware of the attempts the other was making in her favour.
Four hours after the talk between Dobbin and Osborne, this servant-maid came into Amelia's room, where she sate as usual, brooding silently over her letters—her little treasures. The girl, smiling, and looking arch and happy, made many trials to attract poor Emmy's attention, who, however, took no heed of her.
"Miss Emmy!" said the girl.
"I'm coming," Emmy said, not looking round.
"There's a message," the maid went on. "There's something—somebody—sure, here's a new letter for you—don't be reading them old ones any more." And she gave her a letter, which Emmy took, and read.
"I must see you," the letter said. "Dearest Emmy—dearest love—dearest wife, come to me."
George and her mother were outside, waiting until she had read the letter.
