Martha, under a mistaken impression that I am what she is pleased to term "poorly," pours out some eau-de-Cologne and proceeds to bathe my forehead with vigorous concern; and such is the forlornness of my state that I cannot bring myself to bid her begone. When she has put me through the various stages of undressing, has left me ready for bed, and insisted on hearing me say I am immensely better, she departs, to my infinite relief. I turn dismally in my chair, and begin to wonder what I am to do next. Every minute my crime appears more hideous; I feel more positive he will never forgive me. Strangely enough, as my own misdemeanors grow in size and importance, his decrease, until at length they sink into utter insignificance. The remembrance of that pink note alone rankles, and perhaps even that could be explained. The hours slip by. 'Duke's foot is to be heard slowly pacing his own floor. I must and will compel him to make friends with me. How can I face a long sleepless night such as I know will be mine if I go to bed unpardoned? I will make one more effort, and this time I will not be unsuccessful, As I have not now, and never have had, a particle of pride in my composition, it takes me very little thinking to decide on this course. I am sitting before my fire as I develop this idea, toasting my bare toes in a rather purposeless manner, preparatory to jumping into bed. Unlike most people, I can endure any amount of heat to the soles of my feet. Mechanically I slip into my blue slippers, and, rising, go to the glass. Yet, what I see pleases me: I certainly do look nice in my dressing-gown. No other style of garment, no matter how bewitching or elaborate, suits me half as well. This particular gown at which I am now gazing profoundly is of white cashmere, lined and wadded, and trimmed profusely with pale blue. There is a dear little frill round the neck that almost makes me love myself. It is a gift of Marmaduke's. Walking one day in Paris, during our honeymoon, it had attracted our attention in a shop-window, and he had insisted on my going into the shop then and there and making myself the owner of it. Surely when he sees me now he will remember the circumstance, and it will soften him. Ah! he was very fond of me then, I recollect, with a sigh. My hair is streaming down my back, far below my waist; I am looking well, but young very young; indeed, I am painfully conscious that, now my high-heeled shoes are lying under a chair, I might easily be mistaken for a child of fourteen. The thought is distasteful. Hastily putting up my hands, I wind my hair round and round my head until I have reduced it to its everyday decorous fashion; only to find that rolls and smoothness do not accord well with a _negligee_ costume.