"Natural," said Ellinor, who now attacked where she before defended—"Natural not to give us one line, to say he is well and safe—natural; I could not have been so remiss!"
"Ay, child, you women are so fond of writing,—'tis not so with us, especially when we are moving about: it is always—' Well, I must write to-morrow—well, I must write when this is settled—well, I must write when I arrive at such a place;'—and, meanwhile, time slips on, till perhaps we get ashamed of writing at all. I heard a great man say once, that 'Men must have something effeminate about them to be good correspondents;' and faith, I think it's true enough on the whole."
"I wonder if Madeline thinks so?" said Ellinor, enviously glancing at her sister's absorption, as, lingering a little behind, she devoured the contents of her letter.
"He is coming home immediately, dear father; perhaps he may be here to-morrow," cried Madeline abruptly; "think of that, Ellinor! Ah! and
