The ball day arrived, and it was
marked by a great burst of fretfulness on the part of poor Lilias,
occasioned by so small a matter as the being asked by Emily to write
a letter to Eleanor. Emily was dressing to go to dine at Devereux
Castle when she made the request.
'What have I to say? I never could write a letter in my life, at
least not to the Duenna--there is no news.'
'About the boys going to school,' Emily suggested.
'As if she did not know all about them as well as I can tell her.
She does not care for my news, I see no one to hear gossip from. I
thought you undertook all the formal correspondence, Emily?'
'Do you call a letter to your sister formal correspondence!'
'Everything is formal with her. All I can say is, that you and
William are going to the ball, and she will say that is very silly.'
'Eleanor once went to this Raynham ball; it was her first and last,'
said Emily.
'Yes, not long before they went to Italy; it will only make her
melancholy to speak of it--I declare I cannot write.'
'And I have no time,' said Emily, 'and you know how vexed she is if
she does not get her letter every Saturday.'
'All for the sake of punctuality, nothing else,' said Lily.
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