“No. Your daughter Bella,” said Mrs. Wilfer, with a lofty air of never having had the least copartnership in that young lady: of whom she now made reproachful mention as an article of luxury which her husband had set up entirely on his own account, and in direct opposition to her advice: “⁠—your daughter Bella has bestowed herself upon a Mendicant.”

“Good gracious, my dear!”

“Show your father his daughter Bella’s letter, Lavinia,” said Mrs. Wilfer, in her monotonous Act of Parliament tone, and waving her hand. “I think your father will admit it to be documentary proof of what I tell him. I believe your father is acquainted with his daughter Bella’s writing. But I do not know. He may tell you he is not. Nothing will surprise me.”