However,
you are not to blame . . . and as to disappointment, why, all must
suffer disappointment at some period or other of their lives. But a
hundred things I had to say to you will now be forgotten, and never
said. There is a project hatching in this house, which both Emily and
I anxiously wished to discuss with you. The project is yet in its
infancy, hardly peeping from its shell; and whether it will ever come
out a fine full-fledged chicken, or will turn addle and die before it
cheeps, is one of those considerations that are but dimly revealed by
the oracles of futurity. Now, don't be nonplussed by all this
metaphorical mystery. I talk of a plain and everyday occurrence,
though, in Delphic style, I wrap up the information in figures of
speech concerning eggs, chickens etceatera, etcaeterorum. To come to
the point: Papa and aunt talk, by fits and starts, of our--id est,
Emily, Anne, and myself--commencing a school! I have often, you know,
said how much I wished such a thing; but I never could conceive where
the capital was to come from for making such a speculation. I was
well aware, indeed, that aunt had money, but I always considered that
she was the last person who would offer a loan for the purpose in
question. A loan, however, she _has_ offered, or rather intimates
that she perhaps _will_ offer in case pupils can be secured, an
eligible situation obtained, &c.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266