ABSTRACT
‘My Dear Caroline,’ ‘I am going to surprise you — I know it is the most imprudent thing a story-teller can do, to give notice, or promise of a surprise — but you see, I have such confidence at this moment in my fact, that I hazard this imprudence — Who do you think I have seen? Guess — guess all round the breakfast table — father, mother, Caroline, Rosamond — I defy you all — Ay, Rosamond, even you, with all your capacity for romance; the romance of real life is beyond all other romances; it’s coincidences beyond the combinations of the most inventive fancy — even of yours, Rosamond — Granted — go on — Patience, ladies, if you please, and / don’t turn over the page, or glance to the end of my letter to satisfy your curiosity, but read fairly on, says my father.
