en somme she has done herself no good by the whole affair.  But, after all, poor soul, she is disinterested.  She stands to gain nothing, as I understand; and she risks a good deal.  From this comfortable distance, I really find something touching in her behavior.

“She gives her first ‘Wednesday,’ I understand, to-morrow.  ‘Mademoiselle Le Breton at home!’ I confess I am curious.  By all means go, and send me a full report.  Mr. Montresor and his wife will certainly be there.  He and I have been corresponding, of course.  He wishes to persuade me that he feels himself in some way responsible for mademoiselle’s position, and for my dismissal of her; that I ought to allow him in consequence full freedom of action.  I cannot see matters in the same light.  But, as I tell him, the change will be all to his advantage.  He exchanges a fractious old woman, always ready to tell him unpleasant truths, for one who has made flattery her metier.  If he wants quantity she will give it him.  Quality he can dispense with—­as I have seen for some time past.

“Lord Lackington has written me an impertinent letter.  It seems she has revealed herself, and il s’en prend a moi, because I kept the secret from him, and because I have now dared to dismiss his granddaughter.  I am in the midst of a reply which amuses me.  He is to cast off his belongings as he pleases; but when a lady of the Chantrey blood—­no matter how she came by it—­condescends to enter a paid employment, legitimate or illegitimate, she must be treated en reine, or Lord L. will know the reason why.  ’Here is one hundred pounds a year, and let me hear no more of you,’ he says to her at sixteen.  Thirteen years later I take her in, respect his wishes, and keep the secret.  She misbehaves herself, and I dismiss her.  Where is the grievance?  He himself made her a lectrice, and now complains that she is expected to do her duty in that line of life.  He himself banished her from the family, and now grumbles that I did not at once foist her upon him.  He would like to escape the odium of his former action by blaming me; but I am not meek, and I shall make him regret his letter.

“As for Jacob Delafield, don’t trouble yourself to write me any further news of him.  He has insulted me lately in a way I shall not soon forgive—­nothing to do, however, with the lady who says she refused him.  Whether her report be veracious or no matters nothing to me, any more than his chances of succeeding to the Captain’s place.  He is one of the ingenious fools who despise the old ways of ruining themselves, and in the end achieve it as well as the commoner sort.  He owes me a good deal, and at one time it pleased me to imagine that he was capable both of affection and gratitude.  That is the worst of being a woman; we pass from one illusion to another; love is only the beginning; there are a dozen to come after.