As we drew near Lady Gwyn's, he represented the propriety of my restoring her portrait, lest she should have recourse to an arrest. Disheartened by the past, and terrified for the future, I soon consented; and on our arriving at the avenue of the gentleman who had the portrait in his possession, Stuart, by my desire, went to the house without me. He was absent some time, but at last came back with it in his hand. We then drove to Lady Gwyn's; and while I remained at the gate, he proceeded to execute the commission for me. Presently, however, I saw him return accompanied by Lady Gwyn herself, who welcomed me with much kindness, begged I would forget the past, and prevailed on me to go into the house. But it was only to suffer new mortifications. For now, at the instance of Stuart, she began to relate all the pranks which she had practised upon me while I was with her. She confessed that the crowning ceremony was merely to amuse her guests at my expence; and that my great mother was her own nephew! Think of that, Biddy! She said that Stuart, who had known her for some years, begged of her when I paid her my first visit to let me remain under her care, till his return from Town; and to humour my pretty caprices, as she called them. But he did not desire her to go so far with the jest; and she had now just begun an apology for her conduct, when I rose, overwhelmed with shame and indignation, dropped a hasty courtesy, and fairly ran out of the house. We proceeded some miles silent and uncomfortable. My heart was bursting, and my head felt as if billows were tossing through it. At last I found myself in sight of the village where William, whom I had separated from his mistress a few weeks before, used to live. As this was a favourable opportunity for reconciling the lovers, I now made Stuart acquainted with the real origin of their quarrel, which I had concealed from him at the time it happened, lest he should mar it. He shook his head at the recital, and desired the driver to find out William's house, and stop there. This was done, and in a few moments William made his appearance. He betrayed some agitation at seeing me, but saluted me with respect. 'Well, William,' said I, sportively, 'how goes on your little quarrel with Mary? Is it made up?' 'No, Ma'am,' answered he, with a doleful look, 'and I fear never will.' 'Yes, William,' cried I, with an assuring nod, 'I have the happiness to tell you that it will.' 'Ah, Ma'am,' said he, 'I suppose you do not know what a sad calamity has fallen upon her since you were here. The poor creature has quite lost her senses.' 'For shame!' cried I, 'What are you saying? Lost her senses! Well, I am sure it was not my fault, however.' 'Your's?' said he. 'Oh, no, Ma'am. But she has never been in her reason since the day you left her.' 'Let us be gone,' whispered I to Stuart, as I sank back in the carriage. 'Surely not,' said he. 'Tis at least your duty to repair the mischief you have done.'