“In a moment, Emmy, I had seized on dear nurse Mackie!

“Very old, very deaf, very infirm—­she fancied I was driving her away, as many others might have done; and, with a truly piteous face, pleaded—­

“’Gude sir, have mercy on a puir auld soul—­and let her ask for her sweet young mistress, only once, sir—­only once more.’

“‘Emily Warren?’ said I.

“Her wrinkled face brightened over as with glory—­and she answered—­

“’Bless the mouth that spake it, and these ears that hear her name! yes—­yes—­yes—­they call her so; where is she? how is she? have you seen her? is she yet alive?’

“Leading away the affectionate old soul from the crowd that was collecting round us, I left orders about luggage as a traveller should, and then told her all I knew:  and I know you pretty well, I think, my Emmy.

“Her joy was like a mad woman’s:  the dear old Hecate pranced, and danced, and sung, and shouted like nothing but a mother when she finds her long-lost child:  not that she’s your mother, Emmy dear.  No—­no—­matters are better than that:  all she vouchsafes, though, to tell me is, that you are a lady born and bred, and—­for I cannot find the words to inform your pure mind clearer—­that ’you are not what he thinks you.’”

[Here followeth another twinkling universe of stars;

* * * * * * *

and thereafter our cavalier condescendeth again to matters of fact.]

“Nurse Mackie of course comes back with me next packet; this letter goes by the overland mail more quickly than we can; gladly would I go too, but the old woman, whose life is essential to your rights, would die of fatigue by the way; as it is, I am obliged to coddle her, and feed her, and ptisan her, like a sick baby, bless her dear old heart that loves my darling Emmy!  She has a pack of papers with her, which she will not open, till the general is by her side:  if she unfortunately dies before we can return, I am to have them, and all will be right.  But the old soul is so afraid of being left behind (as you throw away the orange-peel after you have squeezed it), that she will not tell me a word about them yet; so, I only gather what I can from her cautious garrulity, hints about a Begum and a captain, and the Stuarts, and a Putty-what-d’ye-call-it.  And it is all in document, as well as viva-voce (this means ‘gossip,’ dear).  So now you may be expecting us, as soon as ever we can get to you.  Tell the general all this, and give him my best love, next after your’s Emmy; for he is my father still, and my very heart yearns after him:  O, that he were kinder with me as I see he is with you, dear, and more open with us all!  Also, kiss, if she will let you, my mother for me, and I hope you will have hinted to her long ago, that I am only playing truant.  How is poor—­poor Julian? he will understand me, if you tell him I forgive him, and will never say one word about our little tiff.  And now dearest Emmy—­”