# The Black Moth/Epilogue

His Grace of Andover sat at the window of his lodgings at Venice, looking down at a letter in his hand. The writing was his sister’s. After a moment he drew a deep breath and broke the seal, spreading the sheets out upon the broad sill.
   “My very dear Tracy,
   “So you have gone again with no Farewell to yr. poor Sister, sir! I am indeed very offended, but I understand yr. Reason. As soon as I sett mine eyes on Diana I knew the Truth and recognised yr. dark Beauty. I am monstrous grieved for you, dear. I quite love her myself, altho’ she is very tiresomely lovely, but perhaps as she is dark and I am fair, we shall not clash.
   “The Home-coming was prodigious exciting. Andrew was present, Dicky, of course, and me. Mrs. Fanshawe, too, was there, for she knew Jack Abroad, and a monstrous queer Old Man, who was vastly fidgetty and overcome to see Jack. Then Sir Miles and his wife came, who I thought quite agreeable nice People, and Diana’s Father and Aunt, rather Bourgeois, but, on the whole, presentable.
   “Everyone knows the Truth now, but most People have been prodigious kind and I scarce notice a difference in our Reception. Dearest Dicky is gayer than he was wont to be and more darling, and I almost enjoy being a Social Outcast.
   “When Diana is properly gowned, as should suit her position (but I grieve to say that she prefers to dress plainly), she will make a prodigious Elegantt Countess. I have promised to connduct her to my own Mantua Maker, which is very sacrificing, as I am sure You will agree. I know London will go Crazy about her, and, indeed, those who have allready seen her, which is Avon and Falmouth, are positively Foolish. I make no doubtt ’twill be very mortifying, but I suppose it must be borne.
   ​“She and Jack are prodigious happy together; it is most Unfashionable, but so am I happy with Dick, so there are a Pair of us, and we had best sett Fashion.
   “Pray, return soon, my dear Tracy, you cannot conceive how I miss you. I was surprised you went away with Mr. Fortescue, I had no Notion you were so friendly.
   With dearest Love, Yr. Sister Lavinia.
   “P.S.—’Twill interest you to hear that Miss Gunning is to marry Coventry. ’Tis all over Town this last Week.”
Slowly his Grace put the sheets together and handed them to Fortescue, who had just come into the room.
“These, from my sister, may possibly interest you, Frank.”
Fortescue read the letter through, and at the end folded it and handed it back in silence. Tracy laid it down on the table at his elbow.
“I began—wrongly,” he said.
“Yes,” assented his friend. “She was not—that kind of girl.”
“But having begun wrongly—I could not undo the wrong.”
“So you made it worse,” said Fortescue gently.
“I would have married her in all honour———”
“In your own arrogant fashion, Tracy.”
“As you say—in my own arrogant fashion, Frank. If I could go back a year—but where’s the use? I am not whining. Presently I shall return to England and make my bow to—the Countess of Wyncham. Possibly, I shall not feel one jealous qualm. One never knows. At all events—I’ll make that bow.”
“You will?” Frank looked sharply down at him. “Nothing more, Tracy! You do not purpose———”
“Nothing more. You see, Frank—I love her.”
“I crave your pardon. Yes—she would not take you, but she has, I think, made you. As I once told ​you, when love came you would count yourself as nought, and her happiness as everything.”
For a moment his Grace was silent, and then back came the old smile, still cynical, yet with less of the sneer in it.
“How very pleasant it must be, Frank, to have one’s prophecies so happily verified!” he purred. “Allow me to felicitate you!”
The End