 of Evil - the Catholics
        again!
            Address. If Lord Lax -'s half-brother. If wrong in noddle. This I
        know you will attend to scrupulously. Ridiculous words are sometimes the
        most expressive. Once more, may Heaven bless you all! I thought of you
        in church last Sunday.
            I may tell you this: young Mr. Laxley is here. He - but it was
        Evan's utter madness was the cause, and I have not ventured a word to
        him. He compelled Evan to assert his rank, and Mr. Forth's face has been
        one concentrated sneer since THEN. He must know the origin of the
        Cogglesbys, or something. Now you will understand the importance. I
        cannot be more explicit. Only - the man must go.
            P.S. I have just ascertained that Lady Jocelyn is quite familiar
        with Andrew's origin!! She must think my poor Harriet an eccentric
        woman. Of course I have not pretended to rank here, merely gentry. It is
        gentry in reality, for had poor Papa been legitimized, he would have
        been a nobleman. You know that; and between the two we may certainly
        claim gentry. I twiddle your little good Andrew to assert it for us
        twenty times a day. Of all the dear little manageable men! It does you
        infinite credit that you respect him as you do. What would have become
        of me I do not know.
            P.S. I said two shawls - a black and a white. The black not so
        costly - very well. And so delicate of him to think of the mourning! But
        the white, my dear, must be family - must! Old English point.
        Exquisitely chaste. So different from that Brussels poor Andrew
        surprised you with. I know it cost money, but this is a question of
        taste. The Duke reconciles me to England and all my troubles! He is more
        like poor Papa than any one of the men I have yet seen. The perfect
        gentleman! I do praise myself for managing an invitation to our Carry.
        She has been a triumph.«
 
Admire the concluding stroke. The Countess calls this letter a purely business
communication. Commercial men might hardly think so; but perhaps ladies will
perceive it. She rambles concentrically, if I may so expound her. Full of
luxurious enjoyment of her position, her mind is active, and you see her at one
moment marking a plot, the next, with a light exclamation, appeasing her
conscience, proud that she has one; again she calls up rival forms of faith,
that
