of her stays, in fury, a poniard, and vowed to plunge it
into his heart. He should never, she said, see his Clementina more. He
went to her. Her heart failed her. Well it might, you know, madam. He
seized her hand. He took it from her. She struggled, and in struggling
her wrist was hurt; that's the meaning of the broad black ribband!--
Wicked creature! to have such a thought in her heart!--He only said, when
he had got it from her, Unhappy, violent woman! I return not this
instrument of mischief! You will have no use for it in England--And
would not let her have it again.

I shuddered. O my dear, said I, he has been a sufferer, we are told, by
good women; but this is not a good woman. But can it be true? Who
informed you of it?

Lady Maffei herself. She thought that Sir Charles must have spoken of
it: and when she found he had not, she was sorry she had, and begged I
would not tell any body: but I could not keep it from you. And she says,
that Lady Olivia is grieved on the remembrance of it; and arraigns
herself and her wicked passion; and the more, for his noble forgiveness
of her on the spot, and recommending her afterwards to the civilities of
his sisters, and their lords. But I hate her, for all that.

Poor unhappy Olivia! said I. But what, my Emily, are we women, who
should be the meekest and tenderest of the whole animal creation, when we
give way to passion! But if she is so penitent, let not the shocking
attempt be known to his sisters, or their lords. I may take the liberty
of mentioning it, in strict confidence, [observe that, Lucy,] to those
from whom I keep not any secret: but let it not be divulged to any of the
relations of Sir Charles. Their detestation of her, which must follow,
would not be concealed; and the unhappy creature, made desperate, might--
Who knows what she might do?

The dear girl ran on upon what might have been the consequence, and what
a loss the world would have had, if the horrid fact had been perpetrated.
Lady Maffei told her, however, that had not her heart relented, she might
have done him mischief; for he was too rash in approaching her. She fell
down on her knees to him, as soon as he had wrested the poniard from her.
I forgive, and pity you, madam, said he, with an air that had, as Olivia
and her aunt have recollected since, both majesty and compassion in it:
but, against her entreaty, he would withdraw: yet, at her request, sent
in Lady L---- to her; and, going into his study