At length, dearest Mary, I may write to you; at length indulge my long-controlled wishes.  My conscience has given me permission now, though I once thought I never could again.  We parted in August, and it is now January; and except during our little tour, you have not had one line from me, but very many more than one from Caroline and Ellen.  I used to wrong them, but I am glad I adhered to mamma’s advice and my resolution, painful as it has been; for it did seem hard that I, who consider myself even more my dear Mary’s own friend, should not address you when my sister and cousin did.  And now to explain this riddle, for though mamma has excused my silence to you, I am quite sure she has not told you the real truth.  She would not expose my silly weakness, and therefore prepare yourself for a most humiliating confession, which will, in all probability, lower me ten degrees in your estimation.  However, truth must he told, and so it shall be with all the necessary regularity and precision. You know, almost better than any one else, how very much I disliked the thought of leaving dear happy Oakwood, and residing any part of the year in London.  You often used to warn me, when I have thus spoken, against permitting such fancies to obtain too much dominion; but I did not follow your advice, dear Mary, but indulged them till, of course, they became so heightened that the last month of our sojourn at Oakwood was embittered by the anticipation.  I saw you thought me foolish, and I knew that mamma and papa’s plans could not be altered to please my fancy, and that my confessed distaste to them would give pain to both:  therefore, I concealed my dislike, but instead of doing all I could to conquer it, encouraged every gloomy anticipation to the very utmost.  I found, during our delightful tour through the south of England, I could enjoy myself, but still the thoughts of London, and masters, and strangers, and the fancy our style of living would be so different in the metropolis to what it was in Oakwood, and that I should not see nearly as much of mamma, all chose to come, like terrifying spectres, to scare away the present pleasure.

We visited Oxford, although completely out of our way, in order that we might see the residence of my brothers.  There Percy’s wild mirth and eloquent descriptions partly banished my ill-humour, but as I neared London all my fancied evils returned to me again.  When we first arrived, which was in September, this huge city was, comparatively speaking, a desert; for all the fashionables were out ruralizing.  Mamma was not, I believe, sorry for this, for she wished us to have full six or seven months’ hard study before she entered at all into society.  Ellen and I, of course, will have more, but Caroline is to make her regular entree in March or April, and therefore must be drilled accordingly.  First-rate masters were instantly engaged; indeed, papa had written to many before we arrived, that no time should be