Page:Austen - Sense and Sensibility, vol. III, 1811.djvu/253

 “When do you write to Colonel Brandon, ma’am?” was an enquiry which sprung from the impatience of her mind to have something going on.

“I wrote to him, my love, last week, and rather expect to see, than to hear from him again. I earnestly pressed his coming to us, in my letter, and should not be surprised to see him walk in to-day or to-morrow, or any day.”

This was gaining something, something to look forward to. Colonel Brandon must have some information to give.

Scarcely had she so determined it, when the figure of a man on horseback drew her eyes to the window. He stopt at their gate. It was a gentleman, it was Colonel Brandon himself. Now she could hear more;—and she trembled in expectation of it. But—it was not Colonel Brandon—neither Rh