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110 few lines, however, had extended to the second sheet of paper. Oh! if it be delightful to receive a letter, it is as delightful to answer it. At first there is the timidity which trembles to express what yet it is so sweet to acknowledge—gradually the words fall, for the. heart is too full for silence, and it is easier to write than to speak; one gentle assurance strengthens the other, and the close of the letter is always more tender than the beginning. Louisa had just sealed her note, and was indulging herself in a last glance at that of her lover's, when a light tap was heard at the door. To hide the letter, blush deeply, and say "come in," were the work of a moment; but the rosy colour was yet warm when Isabella entered. "Do not mind me," said Isabella, smiling. "I shall not tell any body that you are writing to Charles Penrhyn." Louisa stood, the image of confusion, and it was some minutes before she recovered breath to say—"However did you find out my secret?" "Not so difficult as you may imagine, my dear sister," replied the other; "it is my nature to observe. If I had not seen the note Charles Penrhyn placed for you the other morning, mamma would have had it instead of yourself." "I fear I am very wrong," whispered Louisa. "I do not think so," replied Isabella. "If we were treated with only half the kindness that Mrs. Palmer shows to her husband's children, such an