Lady Carbury had been crushed by the "Evening Pulpit." We may fancy that it was easy work, and that Mr. Alf's historical Mr. Jones was not forced to fatigue himself by the handling of many books of reference. The errors did lie a little near the surface; and the whole scheme of the work, with its pandering to bad tastes by pretended revelations of frequently fabulous crime, was reprobated in Mr. Jones's very best manner. But the poor authoress, though utterly crushed, and reduced to little more than literary pulp for an hour or two, was not destroyed. On the following morning she went to her publishers, and was closeted for half an hour with the senior partner, Mr. Leadham. "I've got it all in black and white," she said, full of the wrong which had been done her, "and can prove him to be wrong. It was in 1522 that the man first came to Paris, and he couldn't have been her lover before that. I got it all out of the 'Biographie Universelle.' I'll write to Mr. Alf myself,--a letter to be published, you know."
"Pray don't do anything of the kind, Lady Carbury."

Lady Carbury had been crushed by the Evening Pulpit in Mr. Jones's very best manner. But the poor authoress, though reduced to little more than literary pulp for an hour or two, was not destroyed. On the following morning she went to her publishers, and met the senior partner, Mr. Leadham.
"I've got it all in black and white," she said, "and can prove him to be wrong. It was in 1522 that the man first came to Paris, and he couldn't have been her lover before that. I got it all out of the 'Biographie Universelle.' I'll write to Mr. Alf myself - a letter to be published, you know."
"Pray don't do anything of the kind, Lady Carbury."
