MINERVA

ere interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother’s tea. “This is a parade,” cried he, “which does one good; it gives such an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as I can,--or perhaps I may defer it till Kitty runs away.” “I am not going to run away, papa,” said Kitty, fretfully. “If _I_ should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia.” “_You_ go to Brighton! I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne, for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at least learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are never to stir out of doors, till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner.” Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry. “Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of them.” [Illustration] CHAPTER XLIX. [Illustration] Two days after Mr. Bennet’s return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper coming towards them, and concluding that she came to call them to their mother, went forward to meet her; but instead of the expected summons, when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, “I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask.” “What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town.” “Dear madam,” cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, “don’t you know there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here this half hour, and master has had a letter.” Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the library;--their father was in neither; and they were on the point of seeking him upstairs with their mother, when they were met by the butler, who said,-- “If you are looking for my master, ma’am, he is walking towards the little copse.” Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock. Jane, who was not so light, nor so much in the habit of running as Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath, came up with him, and eagerly cried out,-- “Oh, papa, what news? what news? have you heard from my uncle?” “Yes, I have had a letter from him by express.” “Well, and what news does it bring--good or bad?” “What is there of good to be expected?” said he, taking the letter from his pocket; “but perhaps you would like to read it.” Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up. “Read it aloud,” said their father, “for I hardly know myself what it is about.” /* RIGHT “Gracechurch Street, _Monday, August 2_. */ “My dear Brother, “At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as, upon the whole, I hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after you left me on Saturday, I wa