The letter, as she could perceive by feeling it, was long; there was no necessity to open it until she reached home.  But the note she must write at once.  In agitation which would scarcely allow her to reflect, she left the office and sought a small shop where she could procure note-paper.  On her way she devised a plan for meeting.  In the shop where she made her purchase, she was permitted also to write the note.  Having stamped the envelope, she returned to the post-office, and, to make sure that no delay might disappoint Wilfrid, gave the letter into the hands of a clerk, who promised, with a smile, that it should at once be put into the right place.  Emily found the smile hard to bear, but fortunately she was unknown.

Then she set forth homewards.  Such news as this, that she would see and speak with Wilfrid in a few hours, set self-command at defiance.  Between joy at the thought that even now he was nearing her, and fear of the events which might have led him to such a step, she was swayed in a tumult of emotion.  She longed to open the letter, yet felt she could not do so in the public roads.  She tried to think whether any ill chance could possibly interpose to prevent her being at the place of meeting; none was to be anticipated, unless, what was very unlikely, her mother should propose to join her afternoon walk.  But what could his coming mean?  She feared that she understood too well.

Often she had to check the over-haste of her pace, and the way seemed terribly long, but at length she was at home and close shut in her bedroom.  The letter did not aid her to account for his coming; it had been written late on Friday night, but made absolutely no reference to what had passed between Wilfrid and his relations.  It was a long and passionate poem of his love, concerned not with outward facts, but with states of feeling.  Only at the end he had added a postscript, saying that he should write again on Monday.

It was difficult to live through the morning.  She felt that she must be busy with her hands, and, her mother’s objections notwithstanding, set herself resolutely to active housework.  Her anxious feelings in this way toned themselves to mere cheerfulness.  She listened with unfailing patience to the lengthily described details of domestic annoyances of which Mrs. Hood’s conversation chiefly consisted, and did her best to infuse into her replies a tone of hopefulness, which might animate without betraying too much.  The hours passed over, and at length it was time to set forth.  Mrs. Hood showed no desire to leave home.  Emily, though foreseeing that she might again be late for tea, did not venture to hint at such a possibility, but started as if for a short walk.