oneself, and that is such a worry.” _“Dec. 19th._--Yes, they have settled it: we are to leave here, and live in lodgings to save servants. How we are to exist even so, mamma cannot see; but Edward can: he says we two have got popular talents, and _he knows the markets_ (what does that mean, I wonder), and the world in general. I asked him wherever he picked it up, his knowledge: he said, 'In the _'Tiser.'_ I asked him would he leave the place where _she_ lives. He looked sad, but said, 'Yes: for the good of us all.' So he is better than I am; but who is not? I wasted an imploring look on him; but not on mamma: she looked back to me, and then said sadly, 'Wait a few days, Edward, for--_my_ sake.' That meant for poor credulous Julia's, who still believes in him. My sweet mother!” _“Dec. 21st._--Told Mamma to-day I would go for a governess, to help her, since we are all ruined. She kissed me and trembled; but she did not say 'No;' so it will come to that. He will be sorry. When I do go, I think I shall find courage to send him a line: just to say I am sure _he_ is not to blame for withdrawing. Indeed how could I ever marry a man whose father I have heard my father call----” (the pen was drawn through the rest). _“Dec. 22nd._--A miserable day: low spirited and hysterical. We are really going away. Edward has begun to make packing-cases: I stood over him and sighed, and asked him questions: he said he was going to take unfurnished rooms in London, send up what furniture is absolutely necessary, and sell the rest by auction, with the lease of our dear, dear house, where we were all so happy once. So, what with his 'knowledge of the markets, and the world,' and his sense, and his strong will, we have only to submit. And then he is so kind, too: 'Don't cry, little girl,' he said. 'Not but what I could turn on the waters myself if there was anything to be gained by it. _Shall_ I cry, Ju,' said he, 'or shall I whistle? I think I'll whistle.' And he whistled a tune right through while he worked with a heart as sick as my own, perhaps. Poor Edward!” _“Dec. 23rd._--My Christian friend has her griefs, too. But then _she_ puts them to profit: she says today, 'We are both tasting the same flesh-crucifying but soul-profiting experience.' Her every word is a rebuke to me: torn at this solemn season of the year with earthly passions. Went down after reading her letter, and played and sang the _Gloria in Excelsis_ of Pergolesi, with all my soul. So then I repeated it, and burst out crying in the middle. Oh shame! shame!”