"Your caps are so ugly that no one would _try them on_," replied Mrs. Fitzroy. "Mr. Otway is _my_ milliner, and to prove that I do not wish to hoist false colours, I here pledge myself to let you all see, if you like it, whatever our friend of Lisfarne brings me this day, as answer of a question, which I proposed to him yesterday evening, while we were walking, and talking, on this very subject. I then made a complaint and told him that it has been my fate most unjustly, and most painfully to my feelings, to be thought insincere, though I know to a positive certainty, that I err on the other side and speak the truth with less reserve than is prudent. I told Mr. Otway, for whom I entertain the highest regard and admiration, that his _review_ of my character might be very useful, if, as I am, alas! on the wing, he would give me an explanation of what seems so extra-ordinary to myself, in comparing causes with effects; and though I shall not be paid any compliments, I am so sure of not being made worse than I am, that, as I said before, whatever picture I receive of myself from Lisfarne you shall certainly see." "Come, madam," said old Bentley, "the coroner's inquest will be called immediately to try the matter, and judge whether you are _murdered_ or not, for here is Mr. Otway. I see him through the acacias, walking this way with Mrs. Douglas." "Then I will go and meet them," answered Mrs. Fitzroy. "Frederick, you shall go with me. I will ask for the paper which I expect, and you shall bring it back to be read here before I look at it myself, but I cannot stay like a culprit at the bar, while you are all scanning me according to evidence." So saying, she gaily hastened away, joined my aunt, and sent back with the following account of herself from the pen of Mr. Otway: _Answer to Augusta's Question._