Emily, who was always quite as ready to laugh immoderately as to weep bitterly, could not resist any longer. She threw herself into an arm-chair and laughed till her eyes filled with tears. "Baroness Cloten!" said Primula, with dignity, "I must say that your manner has something very offensive for delicately-strung minds like mine;" then turning to Oswald, in the tone of Cæsar dying: "Oswald, I have not deserved this!" and she turned to leave the room. "Dearest, best Mrs. Jager," cried Emily, rising and stepping in her way; "I beg a thousand, thousand pardons; but, pray, see yourself if it is possible for any one to keep from laughing!" And she pushed Primula gently towards the pier-glass, before which the poetess was in the habit of seeking inspiration from her own muse-like appearance. But now it was the work of a moment to look, to utter a piercing cry, as if she had beheld a gorgon-head, and then, without further warning, to fall fainting into Oswald's arms, who was fortunately standing behind her. "Pray ring for the maid," said Oswald, carrying the poor lady to the sofa. Upon Emily's furious ringing Primula's maid appeared at once, but the poetess had recovered so far as to be able to open her eyes partly and to say with feeble voice to Oswald and Emily: "I thank you, my friends! You had a right to laugh, _du sublime au ridicule il n'y a qu'un pas_. But now leave me! Leave an unfortunate being, forced to bear her terrible fate in silence and solitude. Not a word! Not a word! Leave me!" What was to be done? They had to obey a request made in such positive terms. Five minutes afterwards Emily and Oswald had been shown down the stairs by sleepy Lebrecht and were standing in the street. "_Mais, mon Dieu!_" said Emily; "I never thought of it! I have ordered my carriage an hour later!" "Then there will be nothing left for you but to accept my arm and to walk home on foot." Emily gave her arm to Oswald, and thus they walked for some time in silence side by side. It was a very dark, still evening. The autumn winds had bared the trees completely, and were resting now they had done their work. Winter was standing at the gate, but was delaying yet a little while before he knocked with his frozen hand. The streets were exceedingly dark, as the lamps had not been lighted for astronomical reasons. It was, therefore, but natural that Emily was hanging more closely on the arm of Oswald, who seemed to know the way perfectly well. "Do you know where we live?" she asked. "In Southtown, I think?" It was the same suburb in which Miss Bear's boarding-school was situated. "Yes. It is a long way!" "All the better!" A gentle pressure of her round arm rewarded Oswald for the compliment.