considering what were the best means, if there were any, of inducing
Sir Arthur to abandon projects so foolish, and so fatal, Laura came
running with the news that our journey to France was all over, that
orders to that effect had been given, and that a chaise was to be at
the door in an hour, to take Sir Arthur back to Wenbourne-Hill.

[Footnote 1: This and other letters are occasionally omitted, as not
containing any new information.]

This incident, in my then temper of mind, produced its full effect. I
knew Sir Arthur's way: I knew he would not willingly see me himself;
and, immediately suspecting that his letter was from honest Aby, I
determined if possible he should not escape me. He was in his own room;
and how to draw him out? An hour would soon be gone! I therefore
employed an artifice, which, on after recollection, I am convinced was
wrong; very wrong! I went into the drawing-room, and bade the footman
go to him and announce Miss Wenbourne. I have a maiden aunt of that
name, whom I was christened after, who lives in London, and whom I
believe you never saw. The trick succeeded, and Sir Arthur came into
the drawing-room. He looked disconcerted at seeing me, and the
following dialogue began.

Heydey, Anna! Where is your aunt?

Sir, I am afraid I have done an unjustifiable thing. [My conscience
then first smote me, with a conviction that what I had persuaded myself
was a defensible artifice was neither more nor less than a direct
falsehood; which of all crimes, you know, I think one of the most mean,
hateful, and pernicious. The just confusion I felt had nearly ruined my
cause.]