“I protest, my lord,” her voice trembling, in spite of her utmost efforts to command it, “I don’t know--nor can I conceive--” “Nor can you conceive by whom it was written, madam?” “It appears--it bears a resemblance--some likeness--as far as I recollect--but it is so long since I have seen your lordship’s own hand--and hands are so like--sometimes--and I am so bad a judge--every hand, all fashionable hands, are so like.” “And every seal like every seal?” said Lord Oldborough, placing the counterfeit seal before Mrs. Falconer. “I recommend it to you, madam, to waste no farther time in evasion; but to deliver to me the counterpart of this seal, the impression of my private seal, which you had from Lady Frances Arlington.” “A mere bread-seal! Her ladyship surely has not said--I really have lost it--if I ever had it--I declare your lordship terrifies me so, by this strange mode--” “I recommend it to you once more, madam, and for the last time I earnestly recommend it to you, to deliver up to me that seal, for I have sworn to my belief that it is in your possession; a warrant will in consequence be issued, to seize and search your papers. The purport of my present visit, of which I should gladly have been spared the pain, is to save you, madam, from the public disgrace of having a warrant executed. Do not faint, madam, if you can avoid it, nor go into hysterics; for if you do, I must retire, and the warrant must be executed. Your best course is to open that desk, to give me up the seal, to make to me at this instant a full confession of all you know of this transaction. If you do thus, for your husband’s sake, madam, I will, as far as I can consistently with what is due to myself, spare you the shame of an arrest.” Mrs. Falconer, with trembling hands, unlocked the desk, and delivered the seal. “And a letter which I see in the same hand-writing, madam, if you please.” She gave it; and then, unable to support herself longer, sunk upon a sofa: but she neither fainted nor screamed--she was aware of the consequences. Lord Oldborough opened the window to give her air. She was relieved by a burst of tears, and was silent--and nothing was heard but her sobs, which she endeavoured to suppress in vain. She was more relieved on looking up by one glance at Lord Oldborough’s countenance, where she saw compassion working strongly. But before she could take any advantage of it, the expression was changed, the feeling was controlled: he was conscious of its weakness--he recollected what public justice, and justice to his own character, required--he recollected all the treachery, the criminality, of which she had been guilty.