When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected,and always very short.Those to her mother contained little else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as made her quite wild;that she had a new gown,or a new parasol,which she would have described more fully,but was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry,as Mrs.Forster called her,and they were going to the camp;and from her correspondence with her sister,there was still less to be learnt―for her letters to Kitty,though rather longer,were much too full of lines under the words to be made public.
“But it is fortunate,”thought she,“that I have something to wish for.Were the whole arrangement complete,my disappointment would be certain. But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my sister's absence,I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of pleasure realised.A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful;and general disappointment is only warded off by the defence of some little peculiar vexation.”