September 12th.--Is my miserable son-in-law's house under a curse? The yellow-haired woman in the open carriage drove up to the door at half-past ten this morning, in a state of distraction. Felicia and I saw her from the drawing-room balcony--a tall woman in gorgeous garments. She knocked with her own hand at the door--she cried out distractedly, "Where is he? Imust see him!" At the sound of her voice, Marmaduke (playing with his little dog in the drawing-room) rushed downstairs and out into the street. "Hold your tongue!" we heard him say to her.
"What are you here for?"
What she answered we failed to hear; she was certainly crying.
Marmaduke stamped on the pavement like a man beside himself--took her roughly by the arm, and led her into the house.
Before I could utter a word, Felicia left me and flew headlong down the stairs.
