'Past redemption,' said I, hiding my face in my hands. 'This will be dreadful news for your poor father,' said he. 'But I beg of you to tell me the particulars.' 'Then to be brief,' answered I, 'the first night I came to Town, a gentleman decoyed me into his house, and treated me extremely ill.' 'The villain!' muttered Stuart. 'Afterwards I left him,' continued I, 'and walked the streets, till I was taken up for a robbery, and put into the watchhouse.' 'Is this fact?' asked Stuart, 'or are you merely sporting with my feelings?' ''Tis fact, on my honour,' said I, 'and to conclude my short, but pathetic tale, a gentleman, a mysterious and amiable youth, met me by mere accident, after my release; and I am, at present, under his protection.' 'A shocking account indeed!' said he. 'But have you never considered the consequences of continuing this abandoned course of life?' 'Now here is a pretty insinuation!' cried I; 'but such is always the fate of us poor heroines. No, never can we get through an innocent adventure in peace and quietness, without having our virtue called in question. 'Tis always our virtue, our virtue. If we are caught coming out of a young man's bed-room,--'tis our virtue. If we remain a whole night in the streets,--'tis our virtue. If we make a nocturnal assignation,--Oh! 'tis our virtue, our virtue. Such a rout as they make.' 'I regret,' said Stuart, 'to see you treat the subject so lightly, but I do beseech of you to recollect, that your wretched parent----' ''Tis a fine night, Sir.' 'That your wretched parent----' 'Sir,' said I, 'when spleen takes the form of remonstrance, a lecture is only a scolding put into good language. This is my house, Sir.' And I stopped at the door. 'At least,' said he, 'will you do me the favour of being at home for me to-morrow morning?' 'Perhaps I may,' replied I. 'So good night, master Bobby!' The poet and the landlady did not return for half an hour. They told me that their delay was occasioned by their search for me; but I refused all explanation as to what happened after I had lost them. Adieu. LETTER XIV Just as I had finished my last letter, his lordship entered my room, but saluted me coldly. 'I am informed,' said he, 'that you strayed from your party last night, and refused, afterwards, to give an account of yourself to the landlady. May I hope, that to me, who feel a personal interest in all your actions, you will be more communicative?' 'I regret,' said I, 'that circumstances put it out of my power to gratify your wishes. I foresee that you, like an Orville, or a Mortimer, will suspect and asperse your mistress. But the Sun shall return, the mist disperse, and the landscape laugh again.'