ecall.
As a minister, I ought, under every provocation, to have preserved my
self-control.

The one thing to do next was to drive back to my unhappy daughter.

Her guilty husband was with her. I was too angry to wait for a fit
opportunity of speaking. The Christian humility which I have all my life
cultivated as the first of virtues sank, as it were, from under me. In
terms of burning indignation I told them what had happened. The result
was too distressing to be described. It ended in Felicia giving her
husband back the bracelet. The hardened reprobate laughed at us. "Wait
till I have seen his lordship and Mr. Helmsley," he said, and left the
house.

Does he mean to escape to foreign parts? Felicia, womanlike, believes in
him still; she is quite convinced that there must be some mistake. I am
myself in hourly expectation of the arrival of the police.

With gratitude to Providence, I note before going to bed the harmless
termination of the affair of the bracelet--so far as Marmaduke is
concerned. The agent who sold him the jewel has been forced to come
forward and state the truth. His lordship's wife is the guilty person;
the bracelet was hers--a present from her husband. Harassed by debts
that she dare not acknowledge, she sold it; my lord discovered that it
was gone; and in terror of his anger the wretched woman took refuge in a
lie.

She declared that the bracelet had been stolen from her. Asked for the
name of the thief, the reckless woman (having no other name in her mind
at the moment) mentioned the man who had innocently bought the jewel of
her agent, otherwise my unfortunate son-in-law. Oh, the profligacy of
the modern Babylon! It was well I went to the secretary when I did or we
should really have had the police in the house. Marmaduke found them in
consultation over the supposed robbery, asking for his address.
There was a dreadful exhibition of violence and recrimination at his
lordship's residence: in the end he re-purchased the bracelet. My
son-in-law's money has been returned to him; and Mr. Helmsley has sent
me a written apology.

In a worldly sense, this would, I suppose, be called a satisfactory
ending.

It is not so to my mind. I freely admit that I too hastily distrusted
Marmaduke; but am I, on that account, to give him back immediately
the place which he once occupied in my esteem? Again this evening he
mysteriously quitted the house, leaving me alone with Felicia, and
giving no better