“Well, while this was going forward, a violent rapping bespoke, I was sure, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and I ran from the standers, and turning my back against the door, looked over Miss Palmer’s cards; for you may well imagine I was really in a tremor at a meeting which so long has been in agitation, and with the person who, of all persons, has been most warm and enthusiastic for my book.
“She had not, however, been in the room half an instant, ere my father came up to me, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, ‘Fanny, here’s a lady who wishes to speak to you.’
“I curtseyed in silence; she too curtseyed, and fixed her eyes full on my face, and then tapping me with her fan, she cried:
“‘Come, come, you must not look grave upon me.’
“Upon this, I te-he’d; she now looked at me yet more earnestly, and, after an odd silence, said, abruptly:
“‘But is it true?’
“‘What, ma’am?’
“‘It can’t be!—tell me, though, is it true?’
“I could only simper.
“‘Why don’t you tell me?—but it can’t be—I don’t believe it!—no, you are an impostor!’