Although she was stolid over it last night, the letter has warmed Susan into a remarkable state of expansion this morning, and she was sadly crestfallen when I showed no sign of going through the document chapter and verse. I took care that she should find me deep in my own correspondence, so that my inattention was less pointed. I simply told her that it would be a good thing if she were able to take over the Ruddington correspondence herself immediately, as Lord Ruddington had already been seriously misled. Failing this, I gave her the following note, and told her to post it or not as she pleased:-- DEAR LORD RUDDINGTON,--I am grateful for your letter. And I am grateful to you for consenting to what you call my "retreat." When the retreat is over I shall not forget that I have a long letter of yours to answer. Meanwhile I will only beg, both for your sake and my own, that you will not form too high an opinion of--Yours very sincerely, SUSAN BRIGGS. Susan did not read the note in my presence. I have no idea what she will do. _Sunday: before church_. Half my month is gone. This makes the fifteenth morning since I landed in France, yet I don’t remember waking up once with a completely easy mind. From Mr. John Lamb onwards, I have dwelt in the midst of alarms. To-day shall prove whether I have any will-power or not. Sunday is a day of rest, and I am determined to have twenty-four hours’ rest from Ruddington. Susan is very commendably docile. She sees I have had enough of it, and she hasn’t even told me whether she posted my note or not. Fortunately she is making much more of a pal of Georgette. Georgette progresses with her English marvellously. She adores Susan because Susan never tries to utter a single syllable of French. I mean to hear Mass this morning at Bérigny. Georgette is taking Susan to bewail once more the lack of "a nice service" at Sainte Véronique. _Sunday afternoon_. I like the Bérigny papists better than the papists at Sainte Véronique. Barely sixty people assisted at the Mass; but the faith of these few twentieth-century men and women was as solid as the fifteenth-century piers and vaults that rose above our heads.