Poor Louisa writes in sad spirits, and entreats her brother to lose as little time as possible in setting out for Selby. Mr Annesley’s letter brings the painful tidings that Lord Crayton has had a quarrel with an officer, to whom he had lost a large sum of money. They fought; Lord C. killed his antagonist, and then absconded: Lady Crayton accompanied his flight. They left Milan deeply in debt, and no one is able to trace the fugitives. At this moment the family are in consultation respecting what is to be done; and before I close this, you shall hear the result of the council. Well, our much loved Arthur, who is greatly depressed, sets out for Calais to-morrow; and Mr. Falkland, who gives your friend Stanley a seat in his carriage, has resolved on accompanying us. We have outstayed the time allotted to Paris, and are to commence our journey in three or four days. Adieu, dearest Julia! Your affectionate EMILY DOUGLAS. LETTER XLII. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. _Turin._ My dearest Julia, Though it is not above a fortnight since I closed my last letter, my life has latterly become _so full_, that days, happily as they glide away, seem to occupy years in their passage, when I count the measure of their duration by the variety of scene, the stimulus of movement, and the excitement of mind, which I have to remember. We left Paris on Thursday, and did not enter the Forest of Fontainebleau till its majestic shades were involved in twilight. No, never while I have life, can I forget the emotions which this scene, so noble in its solitude--so melancholy--yet so romantic, excited in my soul! The pensive drapery which approaching night cast over the venerable woods before us! the magnificence of the single trees, which stood out every now and then from the masses of mingled rock and foliage, as if to exhibit all the pride of individuality! the fantastic shapes of hill and crag--the silence only broken by a stream which murmured to the right of us as we moved slowly forwards: and all this, contrasted with the din of that noisy, vicious, and idle multitude that we had left behind, struck upon my heart an impression which, while “memory holds her seat,” can never be obliterated.