_Myself_: Did you watch her? _Lord B._: Till she was out of sight--of sight, Viola! _Myself_: I never realised it so clearly before, Lord B. _Lord B._: It is an experience I shall never forget. _Myself_: I should think not, Lord B. Then the excellent old dear said that he trusted he had no unchristian feelings towards Trix; he had been inclined to like her, and so on. But he failed to perceive how they could have treated her differently in any single particular. 'You could not depend on her word, Viola.' I remembered, Sarah, that in early youth, and under circumstances needless to specify exactly, you could not depend on mine--unless the evidence against me was hopelessly clear. I suppose that was Trix's mistake. She fibbed when she was bound to be found out, and saw it herself a minute later. Have you any personal objection to my dropping a tear? I don't pretend to say I should go on writing if there was anything else to do, but it will open your mind to give you one more scrap. _Myself_: What, Audrey dear, come in already? (_It is 9.30 p.m.-- evening fine--moon full._) _Audrey_: Yes, it was rather chilly, Auntie, and there's a heavy dew. _Myself_ (_sweetly_): I thought it such a charming evening for a stroll. _Audrey_: I was afraid of my new frock, Auntie. _Myself_ (_very sweetly_): You're so thoughtful, dear. Has Mortimer come in too? _Audrey_: I knew he was busy, so I told him he mustn't leave his work for me. He went in directly then, Auntie. _Myself_ (_most sweetly_): _How_ thoughtful of you, _darling_! _Audrey_: He did suggest I should stay a little while, but the dew---- _Myself_ (_breaking down_): Good gracious, Audrey, what in the world &c., &c., &c. _Audrey_ (_pathetically_): I'm so sorry, Auntie dear! Now what would you do in such a case, Herr Professor Sarah? No doubt things will turn out for the best in the end, and I suppose I shall be grateful to poor Trix. But for the moment I wish to goodness she'd never run away! Anyhow she has achieved immortality. Barmouths of future ages will hush their sons and daughters into good marriages by threatening them with Trix Trevalla. She stands for ever the Monument of Lawlessness--with locks bedraggled, and skirts high above the ankle! She has made this aristocratic family safe for a hundred years. She has not lived in vain. And tell me any news of her. Have you had the Frickers to dinner since my eye was off you? There, I must have my little joke. Forgive me, Sarah! Affectionately, V. B. 'Tut!' said Mrs. Bonfill, laying down the letter, extracts from which she had been reading to her friend Lord Glentorly. 'She's about right as to Chance, anyhow,' he remarked. 'I was in the House, and you couldn't mistake his venom.'