Just before they took their leave a most awkward incident occurred. Mr. B., in answer to some question from Morris, took out his tablets to look over his engagements for the next day: "Ah! by the way," said he, "that must not be forgotten. There is a certain scampish relative of Lord Dare-wood, for whom I have been entrusted with a somewhat disagreeable commission. This hopeful young gentleman has at last discovered that his wits, when exercised within legal limits, will not support him, and though he has contrived to palm himself off as a man of fashion on some second-rate folks who know no better, his skill at _écarté_ and lansquenet fails to meet his requirements. He has, accordingly, taken a higher flight, and actually committed a forgery. The Earl whose name was counterfeited has paid the bill, but charged me with the task of acquainting his nephew with his knowledge of the fraud, and as frankly assuring him that, if the offence be repeated, he shall pay its penalty. I assure you I wish the duty had devolved upon any other, though, from all I have heard, anything like feelings of respect or compassion would be utterly thrown away if bestowed on such an object as Lord George Tiverton." Oh, Kitty, the last words were not needed to make the cup of my anguish run over. At every syllable he uttered, the conviction of what was coming grew stronger; and though I maintained consciousness to the end, it was by a struggle that almost convulsed me. As for mamma, she flew out in a violent passion, called Lord Darewood some very hard names, and did not spare his emissary; fortunately, her feelings so far overcame her that she became totally unintelligible, and was carried away to her room in hysterics. As I was obliged to follow her, I was unable to hear more. But to what end should I desire it? Is not this last disappointment more than enough to discourage all hope and trustfulness forever? Shall my heart ever open again to a sense of confidence in any? When I sat down to write, I had firmly resolved not to reveal this disgraceful event to you; but somehow, Kitty, in the overflowing of a heart that has no recesses against you, it has come forth, and I leave it so. James came to my room later on, and told me such dreadful stories--he had heard them from Morris--of Lord G. that I really felt my brain turning as I listened to him; that the separation from his wife was all a pretence,--part of a plot arranged between them; that she, under the semblance of desertion, attracted to her the compassion--in some cases the affection--of young men of fortune, from whom her husband exacted the most enormous sums; that James himself had been marked out for a victim in this way; in fact, Kitty, I cannot go on: a web of such infamy was exposed as I firmly believed, till then, impossible to exist, and a degree of baseness laid bare that, for the sake of human nature, I trust has not its parallel.