At last came an evening which she had all to herself.

Miss Laetitia was going over to Norwood to look after matters there, and would remain the night.
Stephen saw in her absence an opportunity for thought and action, and said that, having a headache, she would remain at home.

Her aunt offered to postpone her visit.

But she would not hear of it; and so she had the evening to herself.
After dinner in her boudoir she set herself to the composition of a letter to Leonard which would convey at least something of her feelings and wishes towards him.

In the depths of her heart, which now and again beat furiously, she had a secret hope that when once the idea was broached Leonard would do the rest.