Dr. Bartlett was there, and received them.  My guardian was unexpectedly engaged in answering a letter sent him by Lord W——­, for which a gentleman waited:  but they had not been there a quarter of an hour, when he entered, and made apologies to them in his usual gracious manner.  Never, the doctor says, did any body look so respectful as the major and the captain; and they would have made apologies to my guardian, for their last behaviour to him; but he would not let them.  And my mother, the doctor says, from the very first, behaved prettily.

The moment she asked for me, my guardian himself condescended to come up to me, and took my hand—­Was not that very good of him?—­My dear, said he, as he led me down stairs, (and spoke so kindly,) don’t tremble so:  am I not with you?—­Your mother is very calm and composed:  you must ask her blessing.  I shall ease your tender heart of every pang.  I shall hint to you what to do, and how to behave to the gentlemen, as occasions arise.

He had no sooner said the words, but the drawing-room door gave way to his hand, and I was in the room with him.

Down on my knees dropt I—­as I now do to you:  but I could not speak.  Thus I did. [And she kissed my hand, and bowed her face upon it.] And my mother raised me—­You must raise me, madam—­Yes, just so—­And she kissed me too, and wept on my neck; and called me pretty names; and encouraged me, and said she loved me, as she loved her own soul—­And I was encouraged.

My guardian then, with the air and manner of a gracious prince, took my hand, and presented it first to the major, then to the captain; and they each kissed my hand, and spoke in my praise, I can’t tell how many fine things.

Major, said my guardian, when he presented me to him, you must excuse the dear child’s weakness of spirits:  she wishes you all happiness on your nuptials:  she has let me know, that she is very desirous to do you service for her mother’s sake.

The major swore by his soul, I was an angel!—­Captain Salmonet said, that, by his salvation, I was a charming young lady!

My mother wept—­O, Sir! said she to my guardian:  and dropping down in a chair by the window, not a word more could she speak.

I ran to her, and clasped my arms about her.  She wept the more:  I wiped her eyes with her own handkerchief:  I told her, it went to my heart to see her cry:  I begged she would spare me this grief.

She clasped her arms then about me, and kissed my cheek, and my forehead.  O, thought I, it is very good of you, my dear mother.

Then came my guardian to us, and he kindly took my mother’s hand, and conducted her to the fire-side; and he led me, and placed me by her, at the tea-table; and he made the major and the captain sit down by him:  so much graciousness in his countenance.  O, madam!  I shall be an idolater, I am afraid.  And he said, Emily, my dear, you will make tea for us.  My sister dined abroad, madam, to my mother.—­Yes, sir, I will, said I:  and I was as lively as a bird.