"The proper time will be, my child, immediately before we get into the carriage," said Miss Emmerson, with a sigh of regret at the determination of her niece; "it will then be more pointed, and call for an immediate answer." This satisfied Julia, who knew that it would be accepted by her friend, and she soon fell asleep, to dream a little of Anna, and a great deal of Antonio. The following morning Julia arose with the sun, and her first employment was to seek her friend. Anna had also risen, and was waiting impatiently for the other's appearance, in the vacant parlour. "Ah! dear Julia," said she, catching her arm and dragging her to a window, "I thought you would never come.--Well, are we to spend the winter together--have you spoken to your dear, dear aunt, about it?" "You shall know in good time, my Anna," said Julia, mindful of the wishes of her aunt, and speaking with a smile that gave Anna an assurance of her success. "Oh! what a delightful winter we will have!" cried Anna, in rapture. "I am tongue-tied at present," said Julia, laughing; "but not on every subject," she continued, blushing to the eyes; "do tell me of St. Albans--of Regulus--who is he?" "Who is he?" echoed Anna--"why, nobody!--one must have something to write about, you know, to a friend." Julia felt sick and faint--her colour left her cheeks as she forced a smile, and uttered, in a low voice--"But Antonio--Stanley?" "A man of straw," cried Anna, with unfeeling levity; "no such creature in the world, I do assure you!" Julia made a mighty effort to conquer her emotions, and wildly seizing Anna by the arm, she pointed to her aunt's coachman, who was at work on his carriage at no great distance, and uttered-- "For God's sake, who is _he_?" "He!" cried Anna, in surprise, "why, your driver--and an ugly wretch he is!--don't you know your own driver yet?" Julia burst from her treacherous friend--rushed into the room of her aunt--and throwing herself into the arms of Miss Emmerson, wept for an hour as if her heart would break. Miss Emmerson saw that something had hurt her feelings excessively, and that it was something she would not reveal. Believing that it was a quarrel with her friend, and hoping at all events that it would interrupt their intercourse, Miss Emmerson, instead of trying to discover her niece's secret, employed herself in persuading her to appear before the family with composure, and to take leave of them with decency and respect. In this she succeeded, and the happy moment arrived. Anna in vain pressed near her friend to receive the invitation--and her mother more than once hinted at the thousand pities it was to separate two that loved one another so fondly. No invitation was given--and although Anna spent half a day in searching for a letter, that she insisted must be left in some romantic place, none was ever found, nor did any ever arrive.