At length, both the sisters’ heads were laid on their downy pillows, and Alice had left the room. Still Julia had not determined in what precise words to put her important question; besides, though the candles had been extinguished, there happened to be an impertinent bit of trundling coal among the embers of the fire, which sent from its side a bright flickering blaze, and caused a most obtrusive light to enter the bed, by means of a small, neglected opening between the foot curtains; and, until it should be quite dark, Julia did not wish to speak. Frances put her arms about her sister’s neck, kissed her, and bade her good night. Julia returned the good night with equal kindness, as was their custom. She was again silent. At last the blaze went out, and the room became nearly dark. “What—was that—you were saying—to me—when we were dressing for dinner, Frances—about—about Edmund, you know?” “What!—What?”—said Frances, with a start, for she had just dropped asleep. “What—was it you were saying—I say—before dinner, you know?” “Saying! About what?” “About—about Edmund, you know.” “What about Edmund?” “Oh, you know, about him and Lady Susan, you know.” “Oh, about their going to be married!” said Frances, rousing herself to enter fully, as it were, into the amusing subject; then, with animation, and a voice of confidence, she continued, “I really think it will take place; and he is certainly very fortunate; for she has a cheerful, happy temper, and her affection for him is truly generous and disinterested!” The darkness covered Julia’s changing colour, and her starting tears, also, which she now gulped down, as she replied, “Her affection indeed! What can her affection be, in comparison of those who have loved him always!” “Do you mean any one in particular?” asked Frances. “No—” replied Julia, “that is—yes. I mean, you and I, you know.” “Certainly,” said Frances, “we have loved him always; but then, you know, we are not going to marry him.” “No, I suppose papa would not think it right, if we were,” said Julia. “You may be sure of that!” replied Frances. “It is very plain, from his letters, and from what grandmamma and Mr. Jackson said the other day, about Henry’s nonsense, what sort of people papa intends us to marry.” “I shall never marry any one while I live!” said Julia, with great earnestness. “You can’t tell, you know, Julia,” replied Frances; “you may happen to fall in love; and if you do, it will be desperately! for you know how enthusiastic you always are, about any one you care for!” “Fall in love with a stranger, indeed!” exclaimed Julia. Then, after a momentary pause, she added, “do you think yourself, Frances, that Lady Susan can possibly love him as well as—as we do?”