Accordingly, with much trepidation, I began to descend the stairs. Not a soul seemed stirring. But as I passed by the milliner's room, I perceived the door half open, and heard some one humming a tune inside. I peeped through the chink, and saw the pretty milliner again seated there, and still busied about the Tuscan dress. I resolved to make another effort for it; and as I had gained my point with the maid, by having discovered her intrigue, it struck me that I might succeed with the milliner in a similar manner. I therefore glided into the room, and seated myself just opposite to her. 'Your business, Ma'am?' said she, looking surprised. 'To purchase that dress,' answered I. ''Tis already purchased,' said she. 'Do you remember the mad woman with the long hair?' said I, as I took off my bonnet, and let down my tresses, with all the grandeur of virtue victorious over vice. She started and turned pale. 'You are the very person, I believe,' faltered she. 'What upon earth shall I do?' 'Do?' cried I. 'Why, sell me the Tuscan dress of course. The fact is--but let it go no farther--I am a heroine; I am, I give you my word and honour. So, you know, the lady being wronged of the dress, (inasmuch as she is but an individual), is as nothing compared with the wrong that the community will sustain, if they lose the pleasure of finding that I get it from you. Sure the whole scene, since I came to this house, was contrived for the express purpose of my procuring that individual costume; and just conceive what pretty confusion must take place, if, after all, you prevent me! My dear girl, we must do poetical justice. We must not disappoint the reader. 'You will tell me, perhaps, that selling the dress is improper? Granted. But, recollect, what improper things are constantly done, in novels, to bring about a pre-determined event. Your amour with the gentleman, for instance; which I shall certainly tell your employer, if you refuse to sell me the dress. 'As you value your own peace of mind, therefore, and in the name of all that is just, generous, and honourable, I conjure you to reflect for a moment, and you must see the matter in its rational light. What can you answer to these arguments?' 'That the person who could use them,' said she, 'will never listen to reason. I see what is the matter with you, and that I have no resource but to humour you, or be ruined.' And she began crying. To conclude, after a little farther persuasion, I got the dress, gave her ten guineas, and, tripping down stairs, effected a safe escape out of the house. I then called a coach, and drove to Jerry Sullivan's; for I would not return to my lodgings, lest the conspirators there should prevent me from going to the masquerade.