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Dear Emma! I have been secreted in that closet while Sir Cameron, and your aunt, and a crowd of other visiters have been here in succession, which appeared as if it never would end. Now the hurly burly is over, and I am rewarded for my patience.

Ah, George! Why must I chide you for coming?

And do you chide me?

I ought to do it; you know very well that I ought.

Yes, to come here is foolish: to listen to the sound of your voice; to catch a glimpse of your figure through the shrubs as you play with your brother in the garden; to follow your carriage with mine eyes, and feel its very track on the sand like a talisman or charm to the fancy, is all very foolish, but a folly that is incorrigible.