And Agnes then sat down to muse again. But what a change had now come o'er the spirit of her dream!... Where was her abject misery? Where the desolation that had made her almost fear to look around and see how frightfully alone she was? Her bell was rung, her candles brought her, tea was served; and though there was a fulness and palpitation at the heart which prevented her taking it, or eating the bread and butter good-naturedly intended to atone for her untasted dinner, quite in the tranquil, satisfactory, and persevering manner that might have been wished, everything seemed to dance before her eyes en coleur de rose, till at last, giving up the attempt to sit soberly at the tea-table, she rose from her chair, clasped her hands with a look of grateful ecstasy to heaven, and exclaimed aloud, "He loves me! Hubert loves me!... Oh, happy, happy Agnes!"
"Did you call, miss?" said the maid entering, from having heard her voice as she passed up the stairs.
Agnes looked at her and laughed. "No, Susan," she replied; "I believe I was talking to myself."
"Well, that is funny," said the girl; "and I'm sure it is a pity such a young lady as you should have no one else to talk to. Shall I take the things away, miss?"
Once more left to herself, Agnes set about reading the letter, which hitherto had lain untouched upon the table, blushing as she opened it now, because it had not been opened before.
The first page was from Lady Elizabeth, and only expressed her commands, given in her usual peremptory tone, but nevertheless mixed with much kindness, that Agnes should leave London with as little delay as possible, and consider her house as her home till such time as an eligible situation could be found, in which her own excellent talents might furnish her with a safer and more desirable manner of existence than any her aunt Barnaby could offer. The remainder of the letter was filled by Lady Stephenson, and expressed the most affectionate anxiety for her welfare; but she too referred to the hope of being able to find some situation that should render her independent; so that it was sufficiently evident that neither of them as yet had any idea that this independence might be the gift of Colonel Hubert.
"It is nonsense to suppose they will ever consent to it," thought Agnes; and this time her spirits were not so exalted as to make her breathe her thoughts aloud; "but I never can be so miserable again as I have been ... it is enough happiness for any one person in this life ... that everybody says is not a happy one ... it is quite enough to know that Hubert loves me ... Oh Hubert!... noble Hubert! how did I dare to fix my fancy on thee?... Presumptuous!... But yet he loves me!"
And with this balm, acting like a gentle opiate upon her exhausted spirits, she slept all night, and dreamed of Hubert.
The four o'clock delivery of the post on the following day brought her this letter from her aunt Barnaby.
"Dear Agnes,
"The brutality of these Cheltenham people is perfectly inconceivable. Mr. Crayton my broker, and my poor father's broker before me, came to me as early as it was possible last night; and I explained to him fully, and without a shadow of reserve, the foolish scrape I had got into, which would have been no scrape at all if I had not happened to fall into the hands of a parcel of rascals. He undertook to get the sum necessary to release me by eleven o'clock this morning, which he did, good man, with the greatest punctuality ... paid that villanous Simmons, got his receipt, and my discharge, when, just at the very moment when I was stepping into the coach that was to take me from this hateful place, up come the same two identical fellows that insulted us in Half-Moon Street, and arrest me again at the suit of Wright.... Such nonsense!... As if I could not pay them all ten times over, as easy as buy a pot of porter. But they care no more for reason than a pig in a sty; so here I am, shut up again till that dear old man Crayton can come, and get through all the same tedious work again. You can't conceive how miserably dull I am; and what's particularly provoking, I gave over trying to have you in with me as soon as old Crayton told me I should be out by noon to-day; and therefore, Agnes, I want you to set off the very minute you receive this, and come to me for a visit. You may come to me for a visit, though I can't have you in without special leave. Mind not to lose your way; but it's uncommonly easy if you will only go by what I say. Set out the same way that we went to the church, you know, and keep on till you get to the Haymarket, which you will know by its being written up. Then, when you've got down to the bottom of it, turn sharp round to your left, and just ask your way to the Strand; and when you have got there, which you will in a minute, walk on, on, on, till you come to the bottom of a steep hill, and then stop and ask some one to shew you the way to the Fleet Prison. When you get there, any of the turnkeys will be able to shew you to my room; and a comfort I'm sure it will be to see you in such a place as this.... And do, Agnes, buy as you come along half a dozen cheesecakes and half a dozen queen-cakes, and a small jar, for about four or five shillings, of brandy cherries.... And what's a great comfort, I may keep you till it's dark, which is what they call shutting-up time, and then you can easy enough find your way back again by the gaslight, which is ten times more beautiful than day, all along the streets from one end of the town to the other.... Only think of that dirty scoundrel Morrison never coming near me ... after all that passed too, and all the wine he drank, shabby fellow!... There is one very elegant-looking man here that I meet in the passage every time I go to my bed-room. He always bows, but we have not spoken yet. Bring five sovereigns with you, and be sure set off the moment you get this.
"Your affectionate aunt,
"Martha Barnaby."