this is to offend Mr. Finch--with what
end in view you will presently see. The rector was the last man in
existence to dispense with the necessary apologies and expressions of
regret from a man engaged to his daughter, who had left her as Oscar had
left her--no matter how the circumstances might appear to excuse him. The
curt, off-hand postscript signed "Oscar" was the very thing to exasperate
the wound already inflicted on Mr. Finch's self-esteem, and to render it
at least probable that he would reconsider his intention of himself
performing the marriage ceremony. In the event of his refusal, what would
happen? A stranger, entirely ignorant of which was Nugent and which was
Oscar, would officiate in his place. Do you see it now?

But even the cleverest people are not always capable of providing for
every emergency. The completest plot generally has its weak place.

The postscript, as you have seen, was a little masterpiece. But it
nevertheless exposed the writer to a danger which (as the Journal will
tell you) he only appreciated at its true value when it was too late to
alter his mind. Finding himself forced, for the sake of appearances, to
permit Lucilla to inform her father of his arrival at Ramsgate, he was
now obliged to run the risk of having that important piece of domestic
news communicated--either by Mr. Finch or by his wife--to no less a
person than myself. You will remember that worthy Mrs. Finch, when we
parted at the rectory, had asked me to write to her while I was
abroad--and you will see, after the hint I have given you, that clever
Mr. Nugent is beginning already to walk upon delicate ground. I say no
more: Lucilla's turn now.--P.]

_September_ 3rd.--Oscar has (I suppose) forgotten something which he
ought to have included in his postscript to my letter.

More than two hours after I had sent it to the post, he asked if the
letter had gone. For the moment, he looked annoyed when I said, Yes. But
he soon recovered himself. It mattered nothing (he said); he could easily
write again. "Talking of letters," he added, "do you expect Madame
Pratolungo to write to you?" (This time it was he who referred to her!) I
told him that there was not much chance, after what had passed on her
side and on mine, of her writing to me--and then tried to put some of
those questions about her which he had once already requested me not to
press yet. For the second time, he entreated me to defer the discussion
of that unpleas