"A letter, then," replied I, "will do, perhaps, as well. Here are pen and paper. Send to her, by me, a few lines. Defer all circumstance and comment, and merely inform her who the author of this forgery was. Here," continued I, producing the letter which Talbot had shown to Mrs. Fielder,--"here is the letter in which my friend's hand is counterfeited, and she is made to confess a guilt to the very thought of which she has ever been a stranger. Enclose it in a paper, acknowledging the stratagem to be yours. It is done in a few words, and in half a minute." My impetuosity overpowered all opposition and remonstrance. The paper was before her, the pen in her reluctant fingers; but that was all. "There may never be a future opportunity of repairing your misconduct. You are sick, you say; and, indeed, your countenance bespeaks some deeply-rooted malady. You cannot be certain but that this is the last opportunity you may ever enjoy. When sunk upon the bed of death, and unable to articulate your sentiments, you may unavailingly regret the delay of this confession. You may die with the excruciating thought of having blasted the fame of an innocent woman, and of having sown eternal discord between mother and child." I said a good deal more in this strain, by which she was deeply affected; but she demanded time to reflect. She would do nothing then; she would do all I wished to-morrow. She was too unwell to see anybody, to hold a pen, at present. "All I want," said I, "are but few words. You cannot be at a loss for these. I will hold, I will guide your hand; I will write what you dictate. Will you put your hand to something which I will write this moment in your presence and subject to your revision?" I did not stay for her consent, but, seizing the pen, put down hastily these words:-- "Madam: the enclosed letter has led you into mistake. It has persuaded you that your daughter was unfaithful to her vows; but know, madam, that the concluding paragraph was written by me. I found the letter unfinished on Mrs. Talbot's desk. I took it thence without her knowledge, and added the concluding paragraph, in a hand as much resembling hers as possible, and conveyed it to the hands of her husband." This hasty scribble I read to her, and urged her, by every consideration my invention could suggest, to sign it. But no; she did not deny the truth of the statement it contained, but she must have time to recollect herself. Her head was rent to pieces by pain. She was in too much confusion to allow her to do any thing just now deliberately.