As Emma hastily broke the seal and became absorbed in its contents, Dolly's eyes, by one of those strange accidents for which there is no accounting, wandered to the glass again.

She could not help wondering whether the coach-maker suffered very much, and quite pitied the poor man.
It was a long letter--a very long letter, written close on all four sides of the sheet of paper, and crossed afterwards; but it was not a consolatory letter, for as Emma read it she stopped from time to time to put her handkerchief to her eyes.

To be sure Dolly marvelled greatly to see her in so much distress, for to her thinking a love affair ought to be one of the best jokes, and the slyest, merriest kind of thing in life.

But she set it down in her own mind that all this came from Miss Haredale's being so constant, and that if she would only take on with some other young gentleman--just in the most innocent way possible, to keep her first lover up to the mark--she would find herself inexpressibly comforted.
'I am sure that's what I should do if it was me,' thought Dolly.

'To make one's sweetheart miserable is well enough and quite right, but to be made miserable one's self is a little too much!' However it wouldn't do to say so, and therefore she sat looking on in silence.