“Madam, you are not now in a condition, I see, to explain yourself farther--I will relieve you from my presence: my reproaches you will never hear; but I shall expect from you, before one hour, such an avowal in writing of this whole transaction, as may, with the written confession of Lady Trant, afford the proofs which are due to my sovereign, and to the public, of my integrity.” Mrs. Falconer bowed her head, covered her face, clasped her hands in agony: as Lord Oldborough retired, she sprang up, followed to throw herself at his feet, yet without knowing what she could say. “The commissioner is innocent!--If you forsake him, he is undone--all, all of us, utterly ruined! Oh! Georgiana! Georgiana! where are you? speak for me!” Georgiana was in an inner apartment, trying on a new robe _à la Georgienne_. “Whatever you may wish farther to say to me, madam,” said Lord Oldborough, disengaging himself from her, and passing decidedly on, before Georgiana appeared, “you will put in writing, and let me have within this hour--or never.” Within that hour, Commissioner Falconer brought, for Lord Oldborough, the paper his wife had drawn up, but which he was obliged to deliver to Mr. Temple; for Lord Oldborough had so ordered, and his lordship persevered in refusing to see him more. Mrs. Falconer’s paper was worded with all the art and address of which she was mistress, and all the pathos she could command--Lord Oldborough looked only for facts--these he marked with his pencil, and observed where they corroborated and where they differed from Lady Trant’s confession, which Mr. Temple had been charged to obtain during his lordship’s visit to Mrs. Falconer. The greater part of the night Lord Oldborough and Mr. Alfred Percy were employed arranging these documents, so as to put the proofs in the clearest and shortest form, to be laid before his majesty the succeeding day.