"And tell me, my Araminta--my Angelina I mean--how did you contrive your elopement--and how did you escape from the eye of your aristocratic Argus--how did you escape from all your unfeeling persecutors?--Tell me, tell me all your adventures, my Angelina!--Butter the toast, Nat," said Miss Hodges who was cutting bread and butter, which she did not do with the celebrated grace of Charlotte, in the Sorrows of Werter. "I'll tell you all, my Araminta," whispered Miss Warwick, "when we are by ourselves." "Oh, never mind Nat," whispered Miss Hodges. "Couldn't you tell him," rejoined Miss Warwick, "that he need not wait any longer?" "_Wait_, my dear! why, what do you take him for?" "Why, is not he your footman?" whispered Angelina. "My footman!--Nat!" exclaimed Miss Hodges, bursting out a laughing, "my Angelina took you for my footman." "Good heavens! what is he?" said Angelina, in a low voice. "Verily," said Nat Gazabo, with a sort of bashful simple laugh, "verily, I am the humblest of her servants." "And does my Angelina--spare my delicacy," said Miss Hodges--"does my Angelina not remember, in any of my long letters, the name of--Orlando!--There he stands." "Orlando!--Is this gentleman your Orlando, of whom I have heard so much?" "He! he! he!" simpered Nat. "I am Orlando, of whom you have heard so much; and she--(pointing to Miss Hodges)--she is, to-morrow morning, God willing, to be Mistress Hodges Gazabo." "Mrs. Hodges Gazabo, my Araminta!" said Angelina, with astonishment, which she could not suppress. "Yes, my Angelina: so end 'The Sorrows of Araminta'--Another cup?--do I make the tea too sweet?" said Miss Hodges, whilst Nat handed the bread and butter to the ladies officiously. "The man looks like a fool," thought Miss Warwick. "Set down the bread and butter, and be quiet, Nat--Then, as soon as the wedding is over, we fly, my Angelina, to our charming cottage in Wales:--there may we bid defiance to the storms of fate-- "'The world forgetting, by the world forgot.'" "That," said Angelina, "'is the blameless vestal's lot:'--but you forget that you are to be married, my Araminta; and you forget that, in your letter of three folio sheets, you said not one word to me of this intended marriage." "Nay, my dear, blame me not for a want of confidence, that my heart disclaims," said Miss Hodges: "from the context of my letters, you must have suspected the progress my Orlando had made in my affections; but, indeed, I should not have brought myself to decide apparently so precipitately, had it not been for the opposition, the persecution of my friends--I was determined to show them that I know, and can assert, my right to think and act, upon all occasions, for myself."