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diff --git a/old/stdmd10.txt b/old/stdmd10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e4ccaec..0000000 --- a/old/stdmd10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,27774 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eustace Diamonds, by Anthony Trollope -#41 in our series by Anthony Trollope - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: The Eustace Diamonds - -Author: Anthony Trollope - -Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7381] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on April 22, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII, with some ISO-8859-1 characters - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS *** - - - - -Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, -John R. Bilderback and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. - - - - - -THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS - -BY -ANTHONY TROLLOPE - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER - I. LIZZIE GREYSTOCK - II. LADY EUSTACE - III. LUCY MORRIS - IV. FRANK GREYSTOCK - V. THE EUSTACE NECKLACE - VI. LADY LINLITHGOW'S MISSION - VII. MR. BURKE'S SPEECHES - VIII. THE CONQUERING HERO COMES - IX. SHOWING WHAT THE MISS FAWNS SAID, AND WHAT MRS. HITTAWAY THOUGHT - X. LIZZIE AND HER LOVER - XI. LORD FAWN AT HIS OFFICE - XII. I ONLY THOUGHT OF IT - XIII. SHOWING WHAT FRANK GREYSTOCK DID - XIV. "DOAN'T THOU MARRY FOR MUNNY!" - XV. "I'LL GIVE YOU A HUNDRED-GUINEA BROOCH" - XVI. CERTAINLY AN HEIRLOOM - XVII. THE DIAMONDS ARE SEEN IN PUBLIC - XVIII. AND I HAVE NOTHING TO GIVE - XIX. AS MY BROTHER - XX. THE DIAMONDS BECOME TROUBLESOME - XXI. "IANTHE'S SOUL" - XXII. LADY EUSTACE PROCURES A PONY FOR THE USE OF HER COUSIN - XXIII. FRANK GREYSTOCK'S FIRST VISIT TO PORTRAY - XXIV. SHOWING WHAT FRANK GREYSTOCK THOUGHT ABOUT MARRIAGE - XXV. MR. DOVE'S OPINION - XXVI. MR. GOWRAN IS VERY FUNNY - XXVII. LUCY MORRIS MISBEHAVES - XXVIII. MR. DOVE IN HIS CHAMBERS - XXIX. I HAD BETTER GO AWAY - XXX. MR. GREYSTOCK'S TROUBLES - XXXI. FRANK GREYSTOCK'S SECOND VISIT TO PORTRAY - XXXII. MR. AND MRS. HITTAWAY IN SCOTLAND - XXXIII. IT WON'T BE TRUE - XXXIV. LADY LINLITHGOW AT HOME - XXXV. TOO BAD FOR SYMPATHY - XXXVI. LIZZIE'S GUESTS - XXXVII. LIZZIE'S FIRST DAY -XXXVIII. NAPPIE'S GRAY HORSE - XXXIX. SIR GRIFFIN TAKES AN UNFAIR ADVANTAGE - XL. YOU ARE NOT ANGRY - XLI. LIKEWISE THE BEARS IN COUPLES AGREE - XLII. SUNDAY MORNING - XLIII. LIFE AT PORTRAY - XLIV. A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE - XLV. THE JOURNEY TO LONDON - XLVI. LUCY MORRIS IN BROOK STREET - XLVII. MATCHING PRIORY - XLVIII. LIZZIE'S CONDITION - XLIX. BUNFIT AND GAGER - L. IN HERTFORD STREET - LI. CONFIDENCE - LII. MRS. CARBUNCLE GOES TO THE THEATRE - LIII. LIZZIE'S SICK-ROOM - LIV. "I SUPPOSE I MAY SAY A WORD" - LV. QUINTS OR SEMITENTHS - LVI. JOB'S COMFORTERS - LVII. HUMPTY DUMPTY - LVIII. THE "FIDDLE WITH ONE STRING" - LIX. MR. GOWRAN UP IN LONDON - LX. LET IT BE AS THOUGH IT HAD NEVER BEEN - LXI. LIZZIE'S GREAT FRIEND - LXII. "YOU KNOW WHERE MY HEART IS" - LXIII. THE CORSAIR IS AFRAID - LXIV. LIZZIE'S LAST SCHEME - LXV. TRIBUTE - LXVI. THE ASPIRATIONS OF MR. EMILIUS - LXVII. THE EYE OF THE PUBLIC - LXVIII. THE MAJOR - LXIX. "I CANNOT DO IT" - LXX. ALAS! - LXXI. LIZZIE IS THREATENED WITH THE TREADMILL - LXXII. LIZZIE'S TRIUMPHS - LXXIII. LIZZIE'S LAST LOVER - LXXIV. LIZZIE AT THE POLICE-COURT - LXXV. LORD GEORGE GIVES HIS REASONS - LXXVI. LIZZIE RETURNS TO SCOTLAND - LXXVII. THE STORY OF LUCY MORRIS IS CONCLUDED -LXXVIII. THE TRIAL - LXXIX. ONCE MORE AT PORTRAY - LXXX. WHAT WAS SAID ABOUT IT ALL AT MATCHING - - - - -THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS - - - - -CHAPTER I - -LIZZIE GREYSTOCK - - -It was admitted by all her friends, and also by her enemies--who were in -truth the more numerous and active body of the two--that Lizzie Greystock -had done very well with herself. We will tell the story of Lizzie -Greystock from the beginning, but we will not dwell over it at great -length, as we might do if we loved her. She was the only child of old -Admiral Greystock, who in the latter years of his life was much perplexed -by the possession of a daughter. The admiral was a man who liked whist, -wine--and wickedness in general we may perhaps say, and whose ambition it -was to live every day of his life up to the end of it. People say that he -succeeded, and that the whist, wine, and wickedness were there, at the -side even of his dying bed. He had no particular fortune, and yet his -daughter, when she was little more than a child, went about everywhere -with jewels on her fingers, and red gems hanging round her neck, and -yellow gems pendent from her ears, and white gems shining in her black -hair. She was hardly nineteen when her father died and she was taken home -by that dreadful old termagant, her aunt, Lady Linlithgow. Lizzie would -have sooner gone to any other friend or relative, had there been any other -friend or relative to take her possessed of a house in town. Her uncle, -Dean Greystock, of Bobsborough, would have had her--and a more good- -natured old soul than the dean's wife did not exist, and there were three -pleasant, good-tempered girls in the deanery, who had made various little -efforts at friendship with their cousin Lizzie--but Lizzie had higher -ideas for herself than life in the deanery at Bobsborough. She hated Lady -Linlithgow. During her father's lifetime, when she hoped to be able to -settle herself before his death, she was not in the habit of concealing -her hatred for Lady Linlithgow. Lady Linlithgow was not indeed amiable or -easily managed. But when the admiral died, Lizzie did not hesitate for a -moment in going to the old "vulturess," as she was in the habit of calling -the countess in her occasional correspondence with the girls at -Bobsborough. - -The admiral died greatly in debt--so much so that it was a marvel how -tradesmen had trusted him. There was literally nothing left for anybody; -and Messrs. Harter & Benjamin of Old Bond Street condescended to call at -Lady Linlithgow's house in Brook Street, and to beg that the jewels -supplied during the last twelve months might be returned. Lizzie protested -that there were no jewels--nothing to signify, nothing worth restoring. -Lady Linlithgow had seen the diamonds, and demanded an explanation. They -had been "parted with," by the admiral's orders--so said Lizzie--for the -payment of other debts. Of this Lady Linlithgow did not believe a word, -but she could not get at any exact truth. At that moment the jewels were -in very truth pawned for money which had been necessary for Lizzie's -needs. Certain things must be paid for--one's own maid for instance--and -one must have some money in one's pocket for railway-trains and little -knick-knacks which cannot be had on credit. Lizzie when she was nineteen -knew how to do without money as well as most girls; but there were calls -which she could not withstand, debts which even she must pay. - -She did not, however, drop her acquaintance with Messrs. Harter & -Benjamin. Before her father had been dead eight months, she was closeted -with Mr. Benjamin, transacting a little business with him. She had come to -him, she told him, the moment she was of age, and was willing to make -herself responsible for the debt, signing any bill, note, or document -which the firm might demand from her to that effect. Of course she had -nothing of her own, and never would have anything. That Mr. Benjamin knew. -As for payment of the debt by Lady Linlithgow, who for a countess was as -poor as Job, Mr. Benjamin, she was quite sure, did not expect anything of -the kind. But----. Then Lizzie paused, and Mr. Benjamin, with the sweetest -and wittiest of smiles, suggested that perhaps Miss Greystock was going to -be married. Lizzie, with a pretty maiden blush, admitted that such a -catastrophe was probable. She had been asked in marriage by Sir Florian -Eustace. Now Mr. Benjamin knew, as all the world knew, that Sir Florian -Eustace was a very rich man indeed; a man in no degree embarrassed, and -who could pay any amount of jewellers' bills for which claim might be made -upon him. Well, what did Miss Greystock want? Mr. Benjamin did not suppose -that Miss Greystock was actuated simply by a desire to have her old bills -paid by her future husband. Miss Greystock wanted a loan sufficient to -take the jewels out of pawn. She would then make herself responsible for -the full amount due. Mr. Benjamin said that he would make a few inquiries. -"But you won't betray me," said Lizzie, "for the match might be off." Mr. -Benjamin promised to be more than cautious. - -There was not so much of falsehood as might have been expected in the -statement which Lizzie Greystock made to the jeweller. It was not true -that she was of age, and therefore no future husband would be legally -liable for any debt which she might then contract; and it was not true -that Sir Florian Eustace had asked her in marriage. Those two little -blemishes in her statement must be admitted. But it was true that Sir -Florian was at her feet, and that by a proper use of her various charms, -the pawned jewels included, she might bring him to an offer. Mr. Benjamin -made his inquiries, and acceded to the proposal. He did not tell Miss -Greystock that she had lied to him in that matter of her age, though he -had discovered the lie. Sir Florian would no doubt pay the bill for his -wife without any arguments as to the legality of the claim. From such -information as Mr. Benjamin could acquire, he thought that there would be -a marriage, and that the speculation was on the whole in his favour. -Lizzie recovered her jewels and Mr. Benjamin was in possession of a -promissory note purporting to have been executed by a person who was no -longer a minor. The jeweller was ultimately successful in his views, and -so was the lady. - -Lady Linlithgow saw the jewels come back, one by one, ring added to ring -on the little taper fingers, the rubies for the neck and the pendent -yellow earrings. Though Lizzie was in mourning for her father, still these -things were allowed to be visible. The countess was not the woman to see -them without inquiry, and she inquired vigorously. She threatened, -stormed, and protested. She attempted even a raid upon the young lady's -jewel-box. But she was not successful. Lizzie snapped and snarled and held -her own, for at that time the match with Sir Florian was near its -accomplishment, and the countess understood too well the value of such a -disposition of her niece to risk it at the moment by any open rupture. The -little house in Brook Street--for the house was very small and very -comfortless--a house that had been squeezed in, as it were, between two -others without any fitting space for it--did not contain a happy family. -One bedroom, and that the biggest, was appropriated to the Earl of -Linlithgow, the son of the countess, a young man who passed perhaps five -nights in town during the year. Other inmate there was none besides the -aunt and the niece and the four servants, of whom one was Lizzie's own -maid. Why should such a countess have troubled herself with the custody of -such a niece? Simply because the countess regarded it as a duty. Lady -Linlithgow was worldly, stingy, ill-tempered, selfish, and mean. Lady -Linlithgow would cheat a butcher out of a mutton chop, or a cook out of a -month's wages, if she could do so with some slant of legal wind in her -favour. She would tell any number of lies to carry a point in what she -believed to be social success. It was said of her that she cheated at -cards. In back-biting, no venomous old woman between Bond Street and Park -Lane could beat her--or, more wonderful still, no venomous old man at the -clubs. But nevertheless she recognised certain duties, and performed them, -though she hated them. She went to church, not merely that people might -see her there--as to which in truth she cared nothing--but because she -thought it was right. And she took in Lizzie Greystock, whom she hated -almost as much as she did sermons, because the admiral's wife had been her -sister, and she recognised a duty. But, having thus bound herself to -Lizzie--who was a beauty--of course it became the first object of her life -to get rid of Lizzie by a marriage. And though she would have liked to -think that Lizzie would be tormented all her days, though she thoroughly -believed that Lizzie deserved to be tormented, she set her heart upon a -splendid match. She would at any rate be able to throw it daily in her -niece's teeth that the splendour was of her doing. Now a marriage with Sir -Florian Eustace would be very splendid, and therefore she was unable to go -into the matter of the jewels with that rigour which in other -circumstances she would certainly have displayed. - -The match with Sir Florian Eustace--for a match it came to be--was -certainly very splendid. Sir Florian was a young man about eight and -twenty, very handsome, of immense wealth, quite unencumbered, moving in -the best circles, popular, so far prudent that he never risked his fortune -on the turf or in gambling-houses, with the reputation of a gallant -soldier, and a most devoted lover. There were two facts concerning him -which might, or might not, be taken as objections. He was vicious, and--he -was dying. When a friend, intending to be kind, hinted the latter -circumstance to Lady Linlithgow, the countess blinked and winked and -nodded, and then swore that she had procured medical advice on the -subject. Medical advice declared that Sir Florian was not more likely to -die than another man--if only he would get married; all of which statement -on her ladyship's part was a lie. When the same friend hinted the same -thing to Lizzie herself, Lizzie resolved that she would have her revenge -upon that friend. At any rate the courtship went on. - -We have said that Sir Florian was vicious; but he was not altogether a bad -man, nor was he vicious in the common sense of the word. He was one who -denied himself no pleasure let the cost be what it might in health, -pocket, or morals. Of sin or wickedness he had probably no distinct idea. -In virtue, as an attribute of the world around him, he had no belief. Of -honour he thought very much, and had conceived a somewhat noble idea that -because much had been given to him much was demanded of him. He was -haughty, polite, and very generous. There was almost a nobility even about -his vices. And he had a special gallantry of which it is hard to say -whether it is or is not to be admired. They told him that he was like to -die--very like to die, if he did not change his manner of living. Would he -go to Algiers for a period? Certainly not. He would do no such thing. If -he died, there was his brother John left to succeed him. And the fear of -death never cast a cloud over that grandly beautiful brow. They had all -been short-lived--the Eustaces. Consumption had swept a hecatomb of -victims from the family. But still they were grand people, and never were -afraid of death. - -And then Sir Florian fell in love. Discussing this matter with his -brother, who was perhaps his only intimate friend, he declared that if the -girl he loved would give herself to him, he would make what atonement he -could to her for his own early death by a princely settlement. John -Eustace, who was somewhat nearly concerned in the matter, raised no -objection to this proposal. There was ever something grand about these -Eustaces. Sir Florian was a grand gentleman; but surely he must have been -dull of intellect, slow of discernment, blear-eyed in his ways about the -town, when he took Lizzie Greystock--of all the women whom he could find -in the world--to be the purest, the truest, and the noblest. It has been -said of Sir Florian that he did not believe in virtue. He freely expressed -disbelief in the virtue of women around him--in the virtue of women of all -ranks. But he believed in his mother and sisters as though they were -heaven-born; and he was one who could believe in his wife as though she -were the queen of heaven. He did believe in Lizzie Greystock, thinking -that intellect, purity, truth, and beauty, each perfect in its degree, -were combined in her. The intellect and beauty were there; but for the -purity and truth, how could it have been that such a one as Sir Florian -Eustace should have been so blind! - -Sir Florian was not indeed a clever man; but he believed himself to be a -fool, and believing himself to be a fool, he desired, nay, painfully -longed, for some of those results of cleverness which might, he thought, -come to him from contact with a clever woman. Lizzie read poetry well, and -she read verses to him, sitting very near to him, almost in the dark, with -a shaded lamp throwing its light on her book. He was astonished to find -how sweet a thing was poetry. By himself he could never read a line, but -as it came from her lips it seemed to charm him. It was a new pleasure, -and one which, though he had ridiculed it, he had so often coveted! And -then she told him of such wondrous thoughts, such wondrous joys in the -world which would come from thinking! He was proud, I have said, and -haughty; but he was essentially modest and humble in his self-estimation. -How divine was this creature, whose voice to him was that of a goddess! - -Then he spoke out to her with a face a little turned from her. Would she -be his wife? But before she answered him, let her listen to him. They had -told him that an early death must probably be his fate. He did not himself -feel that it must be so. Sometimes he was ill, very ill; but often he was -well. If she would run the risk with him he Would endeavour to make her -such recompense as might come from his wealth. The speech he made was -somewhat long, and as he made it he hardly looked into her face. - -But it was necessary to him that he should be made to know by some signal -from her how it was going with her feelings. As he spoke of his danger, -there came a gurgling little trill of wailing from her throat, a soft, -almost musical, sound of woe, which seemed to add an unaccustomed -eloquence to his words. When he spoke of his own hope the sound was -somewhat, changed, but it was still continued. When he alluded to the -disposition of his fortune, she was at his feet. "Not that," she said, -"not that!" He lifted her, and with his arm round her waist he tried to -tell her what it would be his duty to do for her. She escaped from his arm -and would not listen to him. But--but--! When he began to talk of love -again, she stood with her forehead bowed against his bosom. Of course the -engagement was then a thing accomplished. - -But still the cup might slip from her lips. Her father was now dead but -ten months, and what answer could she make when the common pressing -petition for an early marriage was poured into her ear? This was in July, -and it would never do that he should be left, unmarried, to the rigour of -another winter. She looked into his face and knew that she had cause for -fear. Oh, heavens! if all these golden hopes should fall to the ground, -and she should come to be known only as the girl who had been engaged to -the late Sir Florian! But he himself pressed the marriage on the same -ground. "They tell me," he said, "that I had better get a little south by -the beginning of October. I won't go alone. You know what I mean--eh, -Lizzie?" Of course she married him in September. - -They spent a honeymoon of six weeks at a place he had in Scotland, and the -first blow came upon him as they passed through London, back from -Scotland, on their way to Italy. Messrs. Harter & Benjamin sent in their -little bill, which amounted to something over £400, and other little bills -were sent in. Sir Florian was a man by whom all such bills would certainly -be paid, but by whom they would not be paid without his understanding much -and conceiving more as to their cause and nature. How much he really did -understand she was never quite aware; but she did know that he detected -her in a positive falsehood. She might certainly have managed the matter -better than she did; and had she admitted everything there might probably -have been but few words about it. She did not, however, understand the -nature of the note she had signed, and thought that simply new bills would -be presented by the jewellers to her husband. She gave a false account of -the transaction, and the lie was detected. I do not know that she cared -very much. As she was utterly devoid of true tenderness, so also was she -devoid of conscience. They went abroad, however; and by the time the -winter was half over in Naples, he knew what his wife was; and before the -end of the spring he was dead. - -She had so far played her game well, and had won her stakes. What regrets, -what remorse she suffered when she knew that he was going from her, and -then knew that he was gone, who can say? As man is never strong enough to -take unmixed delight in good, so may we presume also that he cannot be -quite so weak as to find perfect satisfaction in evil. There must have -been qualms as she looked at his dying face, soured with the -disappointment she had brought upon him, and listened to the harsh -querulous voice that was no longer eager in the expressions of love. There -must have been some pang when she reflected that the cruel wrong which she -had inflicted on him had probably hurried him to his grave. As a widow, In -the first solemnity of her widowhood, she was wretched and would see no -one. Then she returned to England and shut herself up in a small house at -Brighton. Lady Linlithgow offered to go to her, but she begged that she -might be left to herself. For a few short months the awe arising from the -rapidity with which it had all occurred did afflict her. Twelve months -since she had hardly known the man who was to be her husband. Now she was -a widow--a widow very richly endowed--and she bore beneath her bosom the -fruit of her husband's love. - -But, even in these early days, friends and enemies did not hesitate to say -that Lizzie Greystock had done very well with herself; for it was known by -all concerned that in the settlements made she had been treated with -unwonted generosity. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -LADY EUSTACE - - -There were circumstances in her position which made it impossible that -Lizzie Greystock, or Lady Eustace, as we must now call her, should be left -altogether to herself in the modest widow's retreat which she had found at -Brighton. It was then April, and it was known that if all things went well -with her she would be a mother before the summer was over. On what the -Fates might ordain in this matter immense interests were dependent. If a -son should be born he would inherit everything, subject, of course, to his -mother's settlement. If a daughter, to her would belong the great personal -wealth which Sir Florian had owned at the time of his death. Should there -be no son, John Eustace, the brother, would inherit the estates in -Yorkshire which had been the backbone of the Eustace wealth. Should no -child be born, John Eustace would inherit everything that had not been -settled upon or left to the widow. Sir Florian had made a settlement -immediately before his marriage, and a will immediately afterwards. Of -what he had done then, nothing had been altered in those sad Italian days. -The settlement had been very generous. The whole property in Scotland was -to belong to Lizzie for her life, and after her death was to go to a -second son, if such second son there should be. By the will money was left -to her--more than would be needed for any possible temporary emergency. -When she knew how it all was arranged, as far as she did know it, she was -aware that she was a rich woman. For so clever a woman she was infinitely -ignorant as to the possession and value of money and land and income, -though, perhaps, not more ignorant than are most young girls under twenty- -one. As for the Scotch property, she thought that it was her own forever, -because there could not now be a second son, and yet was not quite sure -whether it would be her own at all if she had no son. Concerning that sum -of money left to her, she did not know whether it was to come out of the -Scotch property or be given to her separately, and whether it was to come -annually or to come only once. She had received, while still in Naples, a -letter from the family lawyer, giving her such details of the will as it -was necessary that she should know, and now she longed to ask questions, -to have her belongings made plain to her, and to realise her wealth. She -had brilliant prospects; and yet, through it all, there was a sense of -loneliness that nearly killed her. Would it not have been much better if -her husband would have lived, and still worshipped her, and still allowed -her to read poetry to him? But she had read no poetry to him after that -affair of Messrs. Harter & Benjamin. - -This has, or will have, but little to do with these days, and may be -hurried on through the twelve, or even twenty-four, months which followed -the death of poor Sir Florian. The question of the heirship, however, was -very grave; and early in the month of May, Lady Eustace was visited by her -husband's uncle, Bishop Eustace, of Bobsborough. The bishop had been the -younger brother of Sir Florian's father, was at this time about fifty, -very active and very popular, and was one who stood high in the world, -even among bishops. He suggested to his niece-in-law that it was very -expedient that, during her coming hour of trial, she should not absent -herself from her husband's family, and at last persuaded her to take up -her residence at the palace at Bobsborough till such time as the event -should be over. Lady Eustace was taken to the palace, and in due time a -son was born. John, who was now the uncle of the heir, came down, and, -with the frankest good-humour, declared that he would devote himself to -the little head of the family. He had been left as guardian, and the -management of the great family estates was to be in his hands. Lizzie had -read no poetry to him, and he had never liked her, and the bishop did not -like her, and the ladies of the bishop's family disliked her very much, -and it was thought by them that the dean's people--the Dean of Bobsborough -was Lizzie's uncle--were not very fond of Lizzie since Lizzie had so -raised herself in the world as to want no assistance from them. But still -they were bound to do their duty by her as the widow of the late and the -mother of the present baronet. And they did not find much cause of -complaining as to Lizzie's conduct in these days. In that matter of the -great family diamond necklace, which certainly should not have been taken -to Naples at all, and as to which the jeweller had told the lawyer and the -lawyer had told John Eustace that it certainly should not now be detained -among the widow's own private property, the bishop strongly recommended -that nothing should be said at present. The mistake, if there was a -mistake, could be remedied at any time. And nothing in those very early -days was said about the great Eustace necklace which afterwards became so -famous. - -Why Lizzie should have been so generally disliked by the Eustaces it might -be hard to explain. While she remained at the palace she was very -discreet, and perhaps demure. It may be said they disliked her expressed -determination to cut her aunt, Lady Linlithgow; for they knew that Lady -Linlithgow had been, at any rate, a friend to Lizzie Greystock. There are -people who can be wise within a certain margin, but beyond that commit -great imprudences. Lady Eustace submitted herself to the palace people for -that period of her prostration, but she could not hold her tongue as to -her future intentions. She would, too, now and then ask of Mrs. Eustace -and even of her daughter an eager, anxious question about her own -property. "She is dying to handle her money," said Mrs. Eustace to the -bishop. "She is only like the rest of the world in that," said the bishop. -"If she would be really open, I wouldn't mind it," said Mrs. Eustace. None -of them liked her, and she did not like them. - -She remained at the palace for six months, and at the end of that time she -went to her own place in Scotland. Mrs. Eustace had strongly advised her -to ask her aunt, Lady Linlithgow, to accompany her, but in refusing to do -this Lizzie was quite firm. She had endured Lady Linlithgow for that year -between her father's death and her marriage; she was now beginning to dare -to hope for the enjoyment of the good things which she had won, and the -presence of the dowager countess, "the vulturess," was certainly not one -of these good things. In what her enjoyment was to consist, she had not as -yet quite formed a definite conclusion. She liked jewels. She liked -admiration. She liked the power of being arrogant to those around her. And -she liked good things to eat. But there were other matters that were also -dear to her. She did like music, though it may be doubted whether she -would ever play it or even listen to it alone. She did like reading, and -especially the reading of poetry, though even in this she was false and -pretentious, skipping, pretending to have read, lying about books, and -making up her market of literature for outside admiration at the easiest -possible cost of trouble. And she had some dream of being in love, and -would take delight even in building castles in the air, which she would -people with friends and lovers whom she would make happy with the most -open-hearted benevolence. She had theoretical ideas of life which were not -bad, but in practice she had gained her objects, and she was in a hurry to -have liberty to enjoy them. - -There was considerable anxiety in the palace in reference to the future -mode of life of Lady Eustace. Had it not been for that baby-heir, of -course there would have been no cause for interference; but the rights of -that baby were so serious and important that it was almost impossible not -to interfere. The mother, however, gave some little signs that she did not -intend to submit to much interference, and there was no real reason why -she should not be as free as air. But did she really intend to go down to -Portray Castle all alone--that is, with her baby and nurses? This was -ended by an arrangement in accordance with which she was accompanied by -her eldest cousin, Ellinor Greystock, a lady who was just ten years her -senior. There could hardly be a better woman than Ellinor Greystock, or a -more good-humoured, kindly being. After many debates in the deanery and in -the palace, for there was much friendship between the two ecclesiastical -establishments, the offer was made and the advice given. Ellinor had -accepted the martyrdom on the understanding that if the advice were -accepted she was to remain at Portray Castle for three months. After a -long discussion between Lady Eustace and the bishop's wife the offer was -accepted, and the two ladies went to Scotland together. - -During those three months the widow still bided her time. Of her future -ideas of life she said not a word to her companion. Of her infant she said -very little. She would talk of books, choosing such books as her cousin -did not read; and she would interlard her conversation with much Italian, -because her cousin did not know the language. There was a carriage kept by -the widow, and they had themselves driven out together. Of real -companionship there was none. Lizzie was biding her time, and at the end -of the three months Miss Greystock thankfully, and, indeed, of necessity, -returned to Bobsborough. "I've done no good," she said to her mother, "and -have been very uncomfortable." "My dear," said her mother, "we have -disposed of three months out of a two years' period of danger. In two -years from Sir Florian's death she will be married again." - -When this was said Lizzie had been a widow nearly a year, and had bided -her time upon the whole discreetly. Some foolish letters she had written, -chiefly to the lawyer about her money and property; and some foolish -things she had said, as when she told Ellinor Greystock that the Portray -property was her own forever, to do what she liked with it. The sum of -money left to her by her husband had by that time been paid into her own -hands, and she had opened a banker's account. The revenues from the Scotch -estate, some £4,000 a year, were clearly her own for life. The family -diamond necklace was still in her possession, and no answer had been given -by her to a postscript to a lawyer's letter in which a little advice had -been given respecting it. At the end of another year, when she had just -reached the age of twenty-two, and had completed her second year of -widowhood, she was still Lady Eustace, thus contradicting the prophecy -made by the dean's wife. It was then spring, and she had a house of her -own in London. She had broken openly with Lady Linlithgow. She had -opposed, though not absolutely refused, all overtures of brotherly care -from John Eustace. She had declined a further invitation, both for herself -and for her child, to the palace. And she had positively asserted her -intention of keeping the diamonds. Her late husband, she said, had given -the diamonds to her. As they were supposed to be worth £10,000, and were -really family diamonds, the matter was felt by all concerned to be one of -much importance. And she was oppressed by a heavy load of ignorance, which -became serious from the isolation of her position. She had learned to draw -cheques, but she had no other correct notion as to business. She knew -nothing as to spending money, saving it, or investing it. Though she was -clever, sharp, and greedy, she had no idea what her money would do, and -what it would not; and there was no one whom she would trust to tell her. -She had a young cousin, a barrister, a son of the dean's, whom she perhaps -liked better than any other of her relations, but she declined advice even -from her friend the barrister. She would have no dealings on her own -behalf with the old family solicitor of the Eustaces, the gentleman who -had now applied very formally for the restitution of the diamonds, but had -appointed other solicitors to act for her. Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus were of -opinion that as the diamonds had been given into her hands by her husband -without any terms as to their surrender, no one could claim them. Of the -manner in which the diamonds had been placed in her hands no one knew more -than she chose to tell. - -But when she started with her house in town--a modest little house in -Mount Street, near the park--just two years after her husband's death, she -had a large circle of acquaintances. The Eustace people, and the Greystock -people, and even the Linlithgow people, did not entirely turn their backs -upon her. The countess, indeed, was very venomous, as she well might be; -but then the countess was known for her venom. The dean and his family -were still anxious that she should be encouraged to discreet living, and, -though they feared many things, thought that they had no ground for open -complaint. The Eustace people were forbearing, and hoped the best. "D--- -the necklace," John Eustace had said, and the bishop unfortunately had -heard him say it! "John," said the prelate, "whatever is to become of the -bauble you might express your opinion in more sensible language." "I beg -your lordship's pardon," said John, "I only mean to say that I think we -shouldn't trouble ourselves about a few stones." But the family lawyer, -Mr. Camperdown, would by no means take this view of the matter. It was, -however, generally thought that the young widow opened her campaign more -prudently than had been expected. - -And now as so much has been said of the character and fortune and special -circumstances of Lizzie Greystock, who became Lady Eustace as a bride, and -Lady Eustace as a widow and a mother, all within the space of twelve -months, it may be as well to give some description of her person and -habits, such as they were at the period in which our story is supposed to -have its commencement. It must be understood in the first place that she -was very lovely; much more so, indeed, now than when she had fascinated -Sir Florian. She was small, but taller than she looked to be, for her form -was perfectly symmetrical. Her feet and hands might have been taken as -models by a sculptor. Her figure was lithe, and soft, and slim, and -slender. If it had a fault it was this, that it had in it too much of -movement. There were some who said that she was almost snake-like in her -rapid bendings and the almost too easy gestures of her body; for she was -much given to action and to the expression of her thought by the motion of -her limbs. She might certainly have made her way as an actress, had -fortune called upon her to earn her bread in that fashion. And her voice -would have suited the stage. It was powerful when she called upon it for -power; but, at the same time, flexible and capable of much pretence at -feeling. She could bring it to a whisper that would almost melt your heart -with tenderness, as she had melted Sir Florian's, when she sat near to him -reading poetry; and then she could raise it to a pitch of indignant wrath -befitting a Lady Macbeth when her husband ventured to rebuke her. And her -ear was quite correct in modulating these tones. She knew--and it must -have been by instinct, for her culture in such matters was small--how to -use her voice so that neither its tenderness nor its wrath should be -misapplied. There were pieces in verse that she could read, things not -wondrously good in themselves, so that she would ravish you; and she would -so look at you as she did it that you would hardly dare either to avert -your eyes or to return her gaze. Sir Florian had not known whether to do -the one thing or the other, and had therefore seized her in his arms. Her -face was oval--somewhat longer than an oval--with little in it, perhaps -nothing in it, of that brilliancy of colour which we call complexion. And -yet the shades of her countenance were ever changing between the softest -and most transparent white and the richest, mellowest shades of brown. It -was only when she simulated anger--she was almost incapable of real anger ---that she would succeed in calling the thinnest streak of pink from her -heart, to show that there was blood running in her veins. Her hair, which -was nearly black, but in truth with more of softness and of lustre than -ever belong to hair that is really black, she wore bound tight round her -perfect forehead, with one long lovelock hanging over her shoulder. The -form of her head was so good that she could dare to carry it without a -chignon or any adventitious adjuncts from an artist's shop. Very bitter -was she in consequence when speaking of the head-gear of other women. Her -chin was perfect in its round--not over long, as is the case with so many -such faces, utterly spoiling the symmetry of the countenance. But it -lacked a dimple, and therefore lacked feminine tenderness. Her mouth was -perhaps faulty in being too small, or, at least, her lips were too thin. -There was wanting from the mouth that expression of eager-speaking -truthfulness which full lips will often convey. Her teeth were without -flaw or blemish, even, small, white, and delicate; but perhaps they were -shown too often. Her nose was small, but struck many as the prettiest -feature of her face, so exquisite was the moulding of it, and so eloquent -and so graceful the slight inflations of the transparent nostrils. Her -eyes, in which she herself thought that the lustre of her beauty lay, were -blue and clear, bright as cerulean waters. They were long, large eyes, but -very dangerous. To those who knew how to read a face, there was danger -plainly written in them. Poor Sir Florian had not known. But, in truth, -the charm of her face did not lie in her eyes. This was felt by many even -who could not read the book fluently. They were too expressive, too loud -in their demands for attention, and they lacked tenderness. How few there -are among women, few perhaps also among men, who know that the sweetest, -softest, tenderest, truest eyes which a woman can carry in her head are -green in colour. Lizzie's eyes were not tender, neither were they true. -But they were surmounted by the most wonderfully pencilled eyebrows that -ever nature unassisted planted on a woman's face. - -We have said she was clever. We must add that she had in truth studied -much. She spoke French, understood Italian, and read German. She played -well on the harp, and moderately well on the piano. She sang, at least, in -good taste and good tune. Of things to be learned by reading she knew -much, having really taken diligent trouble with herself. She had learned -much poetry by heart, and could apply it. She forgot nothing, listened to -everything, understood quickly, and was desirous to show not only as a -beauty but as a wit. There were men at this time who declared that she was -simply the cleverest and the handsomest woman in England. As an -independent young woman she was perhaps one of the richest. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -LUCY MORRIS - - -Although the first two chapters of this new history have been devoted to -the fortunes and personal attributes of Lady Eustace, the historian begs -his readers not to believe that that opulent and aristocratic Becky Sharp -is to assume the dignity of heroine in the forthcoming pages. That there -shall be any heroine the historian will not take upon himself to assert; -but if there be a heroine, that heroine shall not be Lady Eustace. - -Poor Lizzie Greystock! as men double her own age, and who had known her as -a forward, capricious, spoiled child in her father's lifetime, would still -call her. She did so many things, made so many efforts, caused so much -suffering to others, and suffered so much herself throughout the scenes -with which we are about to deal, that the story can hardly be told without -giving her that prominence of place which has been assigned to her in the -last two chapters. - -Nor does the chronicler dare to put forward Lucy Morris as a heroine. The -real heroine, if it be found possible to arrange her drapery for her -becomingly, and to put that part which she enacted into properly heroic -words, shall stalk in among us at some considerably later period in the -narrative, when the writer shall have accustomed himself to the flow of -words, and have worked himself up to a state of mind fit for the reception -of noble acting and noble speaking. In the meantime, let it be understood -that poor little Lucy Morris was a governess in the house of old Lady Fawn -when our beautiful young widow established herself in Mount street. - -Lady Eustace and Lucy Morris had known each other for many years--had -indeed been children together, there having been some old family -friendship between the Greystocks and the Morrises. When the admiral's -wife was living, Lucy had, as a little girl of eight or nine, been her -guest. She had often been a guest at the deanery. When Lady Eustace had -gone down to the bishop's palace at Bobsborough, in order that an heir to -the Eustaces might be born under an auspicious roof, Lucy Morris was with -the Greystocks. Lucy, who was a year younger than Lizzie, had at that time -been an orphan for the last four years. She too had been left penniless, -but no such brilliant future awaited her as that which Lizzie had earned -for herself. There was no countess-aunt to take her into her London house. -The dean and the dean's wife and the dean's daughters had been her best -friends, but they were not friends on whom she could be dependent. They -were in no way connected with her by blood. Therefore at the age of -eighteen she had gone out to be a child's governess. Then old Lady Fawn -had heard of her virtues--Lady Fawn who had seven unmarried daughters -running down from seven-and-twenty to thirteen, and Lucy Morris had been -hired to teach English, French, German, and something of music to the two -youngest Misses Fawn. - -During that visit at the deanery, when the heir of the Eustaces was being -born, Lucy was undergoing a sort of probation for the Fawn establishment. -The proposed engagement with Lady Fawn was thought to be a great thing for -her. Lady Fawn was known as a miracle of Virtue, Benevolence, and -Persistency. Every good quality she possessed was so marked as to be -worthy of being expressed with a capital. But her virtues were of that -extraordinary high character that there was no weakness in them; no -getting over them; no perverting them with follies, or even exaggerations. -When she heard of the excellencies of Miss Morris from the dean's wife, -and then, after minutest investigation, learned the exact qualities of the -young lady, she expressed herself willing to take Lucy into her house on -special conditions. She must be able to teach music up to a certain point. - -"Then it's all over," said Lucy to the dean with her pretty smile--that -smile which caused all the old and middle-aged men to fall in love with -her. - -"It's not over at all," said the dean. "You've got four months. Our -organist is about as good a teacher as there is in England. You are clever -and quick, and he shall teach you." - -So Lucy went to Bobsborough and was afterwards accepted by Lady Fawn. - -While she was at the deanery there sprung up a renewed friendship between -her and Lizzie. It was indeed chiefly a one-sided friendship; for Lucy, -who was quick and unconsciously capable of reading that book to which we -alluded in a previous chapter, was somewhat afraid of the rich widow. And -when Lizzie talked to her of their old childish days, and quoted poetry, -and spoke of things romantic--as she was much given to do--Lucy felt that -the metal did not ring true. And then Lizzie had an ugly habit of abusing -all her other friends behind their backs. Now Lucy did not like to hear -the Greystocks abused, and would say so. "That's all very well, you little -minx," Lizzie would say playfully, "but you know they are all asses." Lucy -by no means thought that the Greystocks were asses, and was very strongly -of opinion that one of them was as far removed from being an ass as any -human being she had ever known. This one was Frank Greystock the -barrister. Of Frank Greystock some special--but, let it be hoped, very -short--description must be given by and by. For the present it will be -sufficient to declare that, during that short Easter holiday which he -spent at his father's house in Bobsborough, he found Lucy Morris to be a -most agreeable companion. - -"Remember her position," said Mrs. Dean to her son. - -"Her position! Well, and what is her position, mother?" - -"You know what I mean, Frank. She is as sweet a girl as ever lived, and a -perfect lady. But with a governess, unless you mean to marry her, you -should be more careful than with another girl, because you may do her such -a world of mischief." - -"I don't see that at all." - -"If Lady Fawn knew that she had an admirer, Lady Fawn would not let her -come into her house." - -"Then Lady Fawn is an idiot. If a girl be admirable, of course she will be -admired. Who can hinder it?" - -"You know what I mean, Frank." - -"Yes, I do; well. I don't suppose I can afford to marry Lucy Morris. At -any rate, mother, I will never say a word to raise a hope in her--if it -would be a hope--" - -"Of course it would be a hope." - -"I don't know that at all. But I will never say any such word to her, -unless I make up my mind that I can afford to marry her." - -"Oh, Frank, it would be impossible," said Mrs. Dean. - -Mrs. Dean was a very good woman, but she had aspirations in the direction -of filthy lucre on behalf of her children, or at least on behalf of this -special child, and she did think it would be very nice if Frank would -marry an heiress. This, however, was a long time ago--nearly two years -ago; and many grave things had got themselves transacted since Lucy's -visit to the deanery. She had become quite an old and an accustomed member -of Lady Fawn's family. The youngest Fawn girl was not yet fifteen, and it -was understood that Lucy was to remain with the Fawns for some quite -indefinite time to come. Lady Fawn's eldest daughter, Mrs. Hittaway, had a -family of her own, having been married ten or twelve years, and it was -quite probable that Lucy might be transferred. Lady Fawn fully appreciated -her treasure, and was, and ever had been, conscientiously anxious to make -Lucy's life happy. But she thought that a governess should not be desirous -of marrying, at any rate till a somewhat advanced period of life. A -governess, if she were given to falling in love, could hardly perform her -duties in life. No doubt, not to be a governess, but a young lady free -from the embarrassing necessity of earning bread, free to have a lover and -a husband, would be upon the whole nicer. So it is nicer to be born to -£10,000 a year than to have to wish for £500. Lady Fawn could talk -excellent sense on this subject by the hour, and always admitted that much -was due to a governess who knew her place and did her duty. She was very -fond of Lucy Morris, and treated her dependent with affectionate -consideration; but she did not approve of visits from Mr. Frank Greystock. -Lucy, blushing up to the eyes, had once declared that she desired to have -no personal visitors at Lady Fawn's house; but that, as regarded her own -friendships, the matter was one for her own bosom. "Dear Miss Morris," -Lady Fawn had said, "we understand each other so perfectly, and you are so -good, that I am quite sure everything will be as it ought to be." Lady -Fawn lived down at Richmond, all the year through, in a large old- -fashioned house with a large old-fashioned garden, called Fawn Court. -After that speech of hers to Lucy, Frank Greystock did not call again at -Fawn Court for many months, and it is possible that her ladyship had said -a word also to him. But Lady Eustace, with her pretty little pair of gray -ponies, would sometimes drive down to Richmond to see her "dear little old -friend" Lucy, and her visits were allowed. Lady Fawn had expressed an -opinion among her daughters that she did not see any harm in Lady Eustace. -She thought that she rather liked Lady Eustace. But then Lady Fawn hated -Lady Linlithgow as only two old women can hate each other; and she had not -heard the story of the diamond necklace. - -Lucy Morris certainly was a treasure--a treasure though no heroine. She -was a sweetly social, genial little human being whose presence in the -house was ever felt to be like sunshine. She was never forward, but never -bashful. She was always open to familiar intercourse without ever putting -herself forward. There was no man or woman with whom she would not so talk -as to make the man or woman feel that the conversation was remarkably -pleasant, and she could do the same with any child. She was an active, -mindful, bright, energetic little thing to whom no work ever came amiss. -She had catalogued the library, which had been collected by the late Lord -Fawn with peculiar reference to the Christian theology of the third and -fourth centuries. She had planned the new flower-garden, though Lady Fawn -thought that she had done that herself. She had been invaluable during -Clara Fawn's long illness. She knew every rule at croquet, and could play -piquet. When the girls got up charades they had to acknowledge that -everything depended on Miss Morris. They were good-natured, plain, -unattractive girls, who spoke of her to her face as one who could easily -do anything to which she might put her hand. Lady Fawn did really love -her. Lord Fawn, the eldest son, a young man of about thirty-five, a peer -of Parliament and an Undersecretary of State, very prudent and very -diligent, of whom his mother and sisters stood in great awe, consulted her -frequently and made no secret of his friendship. The mother knew her awful -son well, and was afraid of nothing wrong in that direction. Lord Fawn had -suffered a disappointment in love, but he had consoled himself with blue -books, and mastered his passion by incessant attendance at the India -Board. The lady he had loved had been rich, and Lord Fawn was poor; but -nevertheless he had mastered his passion. There was no fear that his -feelings toward the governess would become too warm; nor was it likely -that Miss Morris should encounter danger in regard to him. It was quite an -understood thing in the family that Lord Fawn must marry money. - -Lucy Morris was indeed a treasure. No brighter face ever looked into -another to seek sympathy there, either in mirth or woe. There was a gleam -in her eyes that was almost magnetic, so sure was she to obtain by it that -community of interest which she desired, though it were but for a moment. -Lord Fawn was pompous, slow, dull, and careful; but even he had given way -to it at once. Lady Fawn, too, was very careful, but she had owned to -herself long since that she could not bear to look forward to any -permanent severance. Of course Lucy would be made over to the Hittaways, -whose mother lived in Warwick Square, and whose father was Chairman of the -Board of Civil Appeals. The Hittaways were the only grandchildren with -whom Lady Fawn had as yet been blessed, and of course Lucy must go the -Hittaways. - -She was but a little thing; and it cannot be said of her, as of Lady -Eustace, that she was a beauty. The charm of her face consisted in the -peculiar, watery brightness of her eyes, in the corners of which it would -always seem that a diamond of a tear was lurking whenever any matter of -excitement was afoot. Her light-brown hair was soft and smooth and pretty. -As hair it was very well, but it had no specialty. Her mouth was somewhat -large, but full of ever-varying expression. Her forehead was low and -broad, with prominent temples, on which it Was her habit to clasp tightly -her little outstretched fingers, as she sat listening to you. Of listeners -she was the very best, for she would always be saying a word or two, just -to help you--the best word that could be spoken--and then again she would -be hanging on your lips. There are listeners who show by their mode of -listening that they listen as a duty, not because they are interested. -Lucy Morris was not such a one. She would take up your subject, whatever -it was, and make it her own. There was forward just then a question as to -whether the Sawab of Mygawb should have twenty millions of rupees paid to -him and be placed upon a throne, or whether he should be kept in prison -all his life. The British world generally could not be made to interest -itself about the Sawab, but Lucy positively mastered the subject, and -almost got Lord Fawn into a difficulty by persuading him to stand up -against his chief on behalf of the injured Prince. - -What else can be said of her face or personal appearance that will -interest a reader? When she smiled there was the daintiest little dimple -on her cheek. And when she laughed, that little nose, which was not as -well-shaped a nose as it might have been, would almost change its shape -and cock itself up in its mirth. Her hands were very thin and long, and so -were her feet--by no means models as were those of her friend Lady -Eustace. She was a little, thin, quick, graceful creature, whom it was -impossible that you should see without wishing to have near you. A most -unselfish little creature she was, but one who had a well-formed idea of -her own identity. She was quite resolved to be somebody among her fellow- -creatures--not somebody in the way of marrying a lord or a rich man, or -somebody in the way of being a beauty, or somebody as a wit, but somebody -as having a purpose and a use in life. She was the humblest little thing -in the world in regard to any possible putting of herself forward or -needful putting of herself back; and yet, to herself; nobody was her -superior. What she had was her own, whether it was the old grey silk dress -which she had bought with the money she had earned, or the wit which -nature had given her. And Lord Fawn's title was his own, and Lady Fawn's -rank her own. She coveted no man's possessions, and no woman's; but she -was minded to hold by her own. Of present advantages or disadvantages-- -whether she had the one or suffered from the other--she thought not at -all. It was her fault that she had nothing of feminine vanity. But no man -or woman was ever more anxious to be effective, to persuade, to obtain -belief, sympathy, and co-operation--not for any result personal to -herself, but because by obtaining these things she could be effective in -the object then before her, be what it might. - -One other thing may be told of her. She had given her heart, for good and -all, as she owned to herself, to Frank Greystock. She had owned to herself -that it was so, and had owned to herself that nothing could come of it. -Frank was becoming a man of mark, but was becoming a man of mark without -much money. Of all men he was the last who could afford to marry a -governess. And then, moreover, he had never said a word to make her think -that he loved her. He had called on her once or twice at Fawn Court, as -why should he not? Seeing that there had been friendship between the -families for so many years, who could complain of that? Lady Fawn, -however, had not complained; but just said a word. A word in season, how -good is it? Lucy did not much regard the word spoken to herself; but when -she reflected that a word must also have been spoken to Mr. Greystock-- -otherwise how should it have been that he never came again--that she did -not like. - -In herself she regarded this passion of hers as a healthy man regards the -loss of a leg or an arm. It is a great nuisance, a loss that maims the -whole life, a misfortune to be much regretted. But because a leg is gone, -everything is not gone. A man with a wooden leg may stump about through -much action, and may enjoy the keenest pleasures of humanity. He has his -eyes left to him, and his ears, and his intellect. He will not break his -heart for the loss of that leg. And so it was with Lucy Morris. She would -still stump about and be very active. Eyes, ears, and intellect were left -to her. Looking at her position, she told herself that a happy love could -hardly have been her lot in life. Lady Fawn, she thought, was right. A -governess should make up her mind to do without a lover. She had given -away her heart, and yet she would do without a lover. When, on one dull, -dark afternoon, as she was thinking of all this, Lord Fawn suddenly put -into her hands a cruelly long printed document respecting the Sawab, she -went to work upon it immediately. As she read it, she could not refrain -from thinking how wonderfully Frank Greystock would plead the cause of the -Indian prince, if the privilege of pleading it could be given to him. - -The spring had come round, with May and the London butterflies, at the -time at which our story begins, and during six months Frank Greystock had -not been at Fawn Court. Then one day Lady Eustace came down with her -ponies, and her footman, and a new dear friend of hers, Miss Macnulty. -While Miss Macnulty was being honoured by Lady Fawn, Lizzie had retreated -to a corner with her old dear friend Lucy Morris. It was pretty to see how -so wealthy and fashionable a woman as Lady Eustace could show so much -friendship to a governess. "Have you seen Frank lately?" said Lady -Eustace, referring to her cousin the barrister. - -"Not for ever so long," said Lucy with her cheeriest smile. - -"He is not going to prove a false knight?" asked Lady Eustace, in her -lowest whisper. - -"I don't know that Mr. Greystock is much given to knighthood at all," said -Lucy, "unless it is to being made Sir Francis by his party." - -"Nonsense, my dear; as if I didn't know. I suppose Lady Fawn has been -interfering, like an old cat as she is." - -"She is not an old cat, Lizzie! and I won't hear her called so. If you -think so, you shouldn't come here. And she hasn't interfered. That is, she -has done nothing that she ought not to have done." - -"Then she has interfered," said Lady Eustace, as she got up and walked -across the room with a sweet smile to the old cat. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -FRANK GREYSTOCK - - -Frank Greystock the barrister was the only son of the Dean of Bobsborough. -Now the dean had a family of daughters--not quite so numerous indeed as -that of Lady Fawn, for there were only three of them--and was by no means -a rich man. Unless a dean have a private fortune, or has chanced to draw -the happy lot of Durham in the lottery of deans, he can hardly be wealthy. -At Bobsborough, the dean was endowed with a large, rambling, picturesque, -uncomfortable house, and with £5,500 a year. In regard to personal -property, it may be asserted of all the Greystocks that they never had -any. They were a family of which the males would surely come to be deans -and admirals, and the females would certainly find husbands. And they -lived on the good things of the world, and mixed with wealthy people. But -they never had any money. The Eustaces always had money and the Bishop of -Bobsborough was wealthy. The dean was a man very different from his -brother, the admiral, who had never paid anybody anything. The dean did -pay; but he was a little slow in his payments, and money with him was -never plentiful. In these circumstances it became very expedient that -Frank Greystock should earn his bread early in life. - -Nevertheless he had chosen a profession which is not often lucrative at -first. He had been called to the bar, and had gone, and was still going, -the circuit in which lies the cathedral city of Bobsborough. Bobsborough -is not much of a town, and was honoured with the judges' visits only every -other circuit. Frank began pretty well; getting some little work in -London, and perhaps nearly enough to pay the cost of the circuit out of -the county in which the cathedral was situated. But he began life after -that impecunious fashion for which the Greystocks have been noted. -Tailors, robemakers, and booksellers gave him trust, and did believe that -they would get their money. And any persistent tradesman did get it. He -did not actually hoist the black flag of impecuniosity, and proclaim his -intention of preying generally upon the retail dealers, as his uncle the -admiral had done. But he became known as a young man with whom money was -"tight." All this had been going on for three or four years before he had -met Lucy Morris at the deanery. He was then eight-and-twenty, and had been -four years called. He was thirty when old Lady Fawn hinted to him that he -had better not pay any more visits at Fawn Court. - -But things had much altered with him of late. At the time of that visit to -the deanery he had made a sudden start in his profession. The corporation -of the city of London had brought an action against the Bank of England -with reference to certain alleged encroachments, of which action, -considerable as it was in all its interests, no further notice need be -taken here than is given by the statement that a great deal of money in -this cause had found its way among the lawyers. Some of it penetrated into -the pocket of Frank Greystock; but he earned more than money, better than -money, out of that affair. It was attributed to him by the attorneys that -the Bank of England was saved from the necessity of reconstructing all its -bullion cellars, and he had made his character for industry. In the year -after that, the Bobsborough people were rather driven into a corner in -search of a clever young Conservative candidate for the borough, and Frank -Greystock was invited to stand. It was not thought that there was much -chance of success, and the dean was against it. But Frank liked the honour -and glory of the contest, and so did Frank's mother. Frank Greystock -stood, and at the time in which he was warned away from Fawn Court had -been nearly a year in Parliament. "Of course it does interfere with one's -business," he had said to his father; "but then it brings one business -also. A man with a seat in Parliament who shows that he means work will -always get nearly as much work as he can do." Such was Frank's exposition -to his father. It may perhaps not be found to hold water in all cases. -Mrs. Dean was of course delighted with her son's success, and so were the -girls. Women like to feel that the young men belonging to them are doing -something in the world, so that a reflected glory may be theirs. It was -pleasant to talk of Frank as member for the City. Brothers do not always -care much for a brother's success, but a sister is generally sympathetic. -If Frank would only marry money, there was nothing he might not achieve. -That he would live to sit on the woolsack was now almost a certainty to -the dear old lady. But in order that he might sit there comfortably it was -necessary that he should at least abstain from marrying a poor wife. For -there was fear at the deanery also in regard to Lucy Morris. - -"That notion, of marrying money, as you call it," Frank said to his second -sister, Margaret, "is the most disgusting idea in the world." - -"It is as easy to love a girl who has something as one who has nothing," -said Margaret. - -"No, it is not; because the girls with money are scarce, and those without -it are plentiful--an argument of which I don't suppose you see the force." -Then Margaret for the moment was snubbed and retired. - -"Indeed, Frank, I think Lady Fawn was right," said the mother. - -"And I think she was quite wrong. If there be anything in it, it won't be -expelled by Lady Fawn's interference. Do you think I should allow Lady -Fawn to tell me not to choose such or such a woman for my wife?" - -"It's the habit of seeing her, my dear. Nobody loves Lucy Morris better -than I do. We all like her. But, dear Frank, would it do for you to make -her your wife?" - -Frank Greystock was silent for a moment, and then he answered his mother's -question. "I am not quite sure whether it would or would not. But I do -think this: that if I were bold enough to marry now, and to trust all to -the future, and could get Lucy to be my wife, I should be doing a great -thing. I doubt, however, whether I have the courage." All of which made -the dean's wife uneasy. - -The reader who has read so far will perhaps think that Frank Greystock was -in love with Lucy as Lucy was in love with him. But such was not exactly -the case. To be in love as an absolute, well-marked, acknowledged fact is -the condition of a woman more frequently and more readily than of a man. -Such is not the common theory on the matter, as it is the man's business -to speak, and the woman's business to be reticent. And the woman is -presumed to have kept her heart free from any load of love till she may -accept the burden with an assurance that it shall become a joy and a -comfort to her. But such presumptions, though they may be very useful for -the regulation of conduct, may not always be true. It comes more within -the scope of a woman's mind than of a man's to think closely and decide -sharply on such a matter. With a man it is often chance that settles the -question for him. He resolves to propose to a woman, or proposes without -resolving, because she is close to him. Frank Greystock ridiculed the idea -of Lady Fawn's interference in so high a matter as his love--or abstinence -from love. Nevertheless, had he been made a welcome guest at Fawn Court, -he would undoubtedly have told his love to Lucy Morris. He was not a -welcome guest, but had been banished; and, as a consequence of that -banishment, he had formed no resolution in regard to Lucy, and did not -absolutely know whether she was necessary to him or not. But Lucy Morris -knew all about it. - -Moreover, it frequently happens with men that they fail to analyse these -things, and do not make out for themselves any clear definition of what -their feelings are or what they mean. We hear that a man has behaved badly -to a girl, when the behaviour of which he has been guilty has resulted -simply from want of thought. He has found a certain companionship to be -agreeable to him, and he has accepted the pleasure without inquiry. Some -vague idea has floated across his brain that the world is wrong in -supposing that such friendship cannot exist without marriage or question -of marriage. It is simply friendship. And yet were his friend to tell him -that she intended to give herself in marriage elsewhere he would suffer -all the pangs of jealousy, and would imagine himself to be horribly ill- -treated. To have such a friend--a friend whom he cannot or will not make -his wife--is no injury to him. To him it is simply a delight, an -excitement in life, a thing to be known to himself only and not talked of -to others, a source of pride and inward exultation. It is a joy to think -of when he wakes, and a consolation in his little troubles. It dispels the -weariness of life, and makes a green spot of holiday within his daily -work. It is indeed death to her; but he does not know it. Frank Greystock -did think that he could not marry Lucy Morris without making an imprudent -plunge into deep water, and yet he felt that Lady Fawn was an ill-natured -old woman for hinting to him that he had better not, for the present, -continue his visits to Fawn Court. "Of course you understand me, Mr. -Greystock," she had said, meaning to be civil. "When Miss Morris has left -us--should she ever leave us--I should be most happy to see you." "What on -earth would take me to Fawn Court if Lucy were not there?" he said to -himself, not choosing to appreciate Lady Fawn's civility. - -Frank Greystock was at this time nearly thirty years old. He was a good- -looking but not a strikingly handsome man, thin, of moderate height, with -sharp grey eyes; a face clean shorn, with the exception of a small -whisker; with wiry, strong dark hair, which was already beginning to show -a tinge of grey--the very opposite in appearance to his late friend, Sir -Florian Eustace. He was quick, ready-witted, self-reliant, and not -overscrupulous in the outward things of the world. He was desirous of -doing his duty to others, but he was specially desirous that others should -do their duty to him. He intended to get on in the world, and believed -that happiness was to be achieved by success. He was certainly made for -the profession which he had adopted. His father, looking to certain -morsels of Church patronage which occasionally came in his way, and to the -fact that he and the bishop were on most friendly terms, had wished his -son to take orders. But Frank had known himself and his own qualities too -well to follow his father's advice. He had chosen to be a barrister, and -now at thirty was in Parliament. - -He had been asked to stand for Bobsborough in the Conservative interest, -and as a Conservative he had been returned. Those who invited him knew -probably but little of his own political beliefs or feelings--did not, -probably, know that he had any. His father was a fine old Tory of the -ancient school, who thought things were going from bad to worse, but was -able to live happily in spite of his anticipations. The dean was one of -those Old-World politicians--we meet them every day, and they are -generally very pleasant people--who enjoy the politics of the side to -which they belong without any special belief in them. If pressed hard, -they will almost own that their so-called convictions are prejudices. But -not for worlds would they be rid of them. When two or three of them meet -together, they are as free-masons, who are bound by a pleasant bond which -separates them from the outer world. They feel among themselves that -everything that is being done is bad, even though that everything is done -by their own party. It was bad to interfere with Charles, bad to endure -Cromwell, bad to banish James, bad to put up with William. The House of -Hanover was bad. All interference with prerogative has been bad. The -Reform bill was very bad. Encroachment on the estates of the bishops was -bad. Emancipation of Roman Catholics was the worst of all. Abolition of -corn-laws, church-rates, and oaths and tests were all bad. The meddling -with the Universities has been grievous. The treatment of the Irish Church -has been Satanic. The overhauling of schools is most injurious to English -education. Education bills and Irish land bills were all bad. Every step -taken has been bad. And yet to them old England is of all countries in the -world the best to live in, and is not at all the less comfortable because -of the changes that have been made. These people are ready to grumble at -every boon conferred on them, and yet to enjoy every boon. They know, too, -their privileges, and, after a fashion, understand their position. It is -picturesque, and it pleases them. To have been always in the right and yet -always on the losing side; always being ruined, always under persecution -from a wild spirit of republican-demagogism, and yet never to lose -anything, not even position or public esteem, is pleasant enough. A huge, -living, daily increasing grievance that does one no palpable harm is the -happiest possession that a man can have. There is a large body of such men -in England, and, personally, they are the very salt of the nation. He who -said that all Conservatives are stupid did not know them. Stupid -Conservatives there may be--and there certainly are very stupid Radicals. -The well-educated, widely-read Conservative, who is well assured that all -good things are gradually being brought to an end by the voice of the -people, is generally the pleasantest man to be met. But he is a Buddhist, -possessing a religious creed which is altogether dark and mysterious to -the outer world. Those who watch the ways of the advanced Buddhist hardly -know whether the man does believe himself in his hidden god, but men -perceive that he is respectable, self-satisfied, and a man of note. It is -of course from the society of such that Conservative candidates are to be -sought; but, alas, it is hard to indoctrinate young minds with the old -belief since new theories of life have become so rife! - -Nevertheless Frank Greystock, when he was invited to stand for Bobsborough -in the Conservative interest, had not for a moment allowed any political -heterodoxy on his own part to stand in the way of his advancement. It may, -perhaps, be the case that a barrister is less likely to be influenced by -personal convictions in taking his side in politics than any other man who -devotes himself to public affairs. No slur on the profession is intended -by this suggestion. A busy, clever, useful man, who has been at work all -his life, finds that his own progress towards success demands from him -that he shall become a politician. The highest work of a lawyer can be -reached only through political struggle. As a large-minded man of the -world, peculiarly conversant with the fact that every question has two -sides, and that as much may often be said on one side as on the other, he -has probably not become violent in his feelings as a political partisan. -Thus he sees that there is an opening here or an opening there, and the -offence in either case is not great to him. With Frank Greystock the -matter was very easy. There certainly was no apostasy. He had now and -again attacked his father's ultra Toryism, and rebuked his mother and -sisters when they spoke of Gladstone as Apollyon, and called John Bright -the Abomination of Desolation. But it was easy for him to fancy himself a -Conservative, and as such he took his seat in the House without any -feeling of discomfort. - -During the first four months of his first session he had not spoken, but -he had made himself useful. He had sat on one or two committees, though as -a barrister he might have excused himself, and had done his best to learn -the forms of the House. But he had already begun to find that the time -which he devoted to Parliament was much wanted for his profession. Money -was very necessary to him. Then a new idea was presented to him. - -John Eustace and Greystock were very intimate, as also had been Sir -Florian and Greystock. "I tell you what I wish you'd do, Greystock," -Eustace said to him one day, as they were standing idle together in the -lobby of the House. For John Eustace was also in Parliament. - -"Anything to oblige you, my friend." - -"It's only a trifle," said Eustace. "Just to marry your cousin, my -brother's widow." - -"By Jove, I wish I had the chance!" - -"I don't see why you shouldn't. She is sure to marry somebody, and at her -age so she ought. She's not twenty-three yet. We could trust you--with the -child and all the rest of it. As it is, she is giving us a deal of -trouble." - -"But, my dear fellow--" - -"I know she's fond of you. You were dining there last Sunday." - -"And so was Fawn. Lord Fawn is the man to marry Lizzie. You see if he -doesn't. He was uncommonly sweet on her the other night, and really -interested her about the Sawab." - -"She'll never be Lady Fawn," said John Eustace. "And to tell the truth, I -shouldn't care to have to deal with Lord Fawn. He would be infinitely -troublesome; and I can hardly wash my hands of her affairs. She's worth -nearly £5,000 a year as long as she lives, and I really don't think that -she's much amiss." - -"Much amiss! I don't know whether she's not the prettiest woman I ever -saw," said Greystock. - -"Yes; but I mean in conduct, and all that. She is making herself queer; -and Camperdown, our lawyer, means to jump upon her; but it's only because -she doesn't know what she ought to be at, and what she ought not. You -could tell her." - -"It wouldn't suit me at all to have to quarrel with Camperdown," said the -barrister, laughing. - -"You and he would settle everything in five minutes, and it would save me -a world of trouble," said Eustace. - -"Fawn is your man; take my word for it," said Greystock, as he walked back -into the House. - - * * * * * - -Dramatists, when they write their plays, have a delightful privilege of -prefixing a list of their personages; and the dramatists of old used to -tell us who was in love with whom, and what were the blood relationships -of all the persons. In such a narrative as this, any proceeding of that -kind would be unusual, and therefore the poor narrator has been driven to -expend his four first chapters in the mere task of introducing his -characters. He regrets the length of these introductions, and will now -begin at once the action of his story. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE EUSTACE NECKLACE - - -John Eustace, Lady Eustace's brother-in-law, had told his friend -Greystock, the lady's cousin, that Mr. Camperdown the lawyer intended to -"jump upon" that lady. Making such allowance and deduction from the force -of these words as the slang expression requires, we may say that John -Eustace was right. Mr. Camperdown was in earnest, and did intend to obtain -the restoration of those jewels. Mr. Camperdown was a gentleman of about -sixty, who had been lawyer to Sir Florian's father, and whose father had -been lawyer to Sir Florian's grandfather. His connection with the property -and with the family was of a nature to allow him to take almost any -liberty with the Eustaces. When therefore John Eustace, in regard to those -diamonds, had pleaded that the heir in his long minority would obtain -ample means of buying more diamonds, and of suggesting that the plunder -for the sake of tranquillity should be allowed, Mr. Camperdown took upon -himself to say that he'd "be ---- if he'd put up with it." - -"I really don't know what you are to do," said John Eustace. - -"I'll file a bill in Chancery, if it's necessary," said the old lawyer. -"Heaven on earth! as trustee how are you to reconcile yourself to such a -robbery? They represent £500 a year forever, and she is to have them -simply because she chooses to take them!" - -"I suppose Florian could have given them away. At any rate, he could have -sold them." - -"I don't know that," said Mr. Camperdown. "I have not looked as yet, but I -think that this necklace has been made an heirloom. At any rate, it -represents an amount of property that shouldn't and couldn't be made over -legally without some visible evidence of transfer. It's as clear a case of -stealing as I ever knew in my life, and as bad a case. She hadn't a -farthing, and she has got the whole of the Ayrshire property for her life. -She goes about and tells everybody that it's hers to sell to-morrow if she -pleases to sell it. No, John"--Mr. Camperdown had known Eustace when he -was a boy, and had watched him become a man, and hadn't yet learned to -drop the name by which he had called the boy--"we mustn't allow it. What -do you think of her applying to me for an income to support her child, a -baby not yet two years old?" Mr. Camperdown had been very adverse to all -the circumstances of Sir Florian's marriage, and had subjected himself to -Sir Florian's displeasure for expressing his opinion. He had tried to -explain that as the lady brought no money into the family she was not -entitled to such a jointure as Sir Florian was determined to lavish upon -her. But Sir Florian had been obstinate, both in regard to the settlement -and the will. It was not till after Sir Florian's death that this terrible -master of the jewels had even suggested itself to Mr. Camperdown. The -jewellers in whose custody the things had been since the death of the late -Lady Eustace had mentioned the affair to him immediately on the young -widow's return from Naples. Sir Florian had withdrawn, not all the jewels, -but by far the most valuable of them, from the jewellers' care on his -return to London from their marriage tour to Scotland, and this was the -result. The jewellers were at that time without any doubt as to the date -at which the necklace was taken from them. - -Mr. Camperdown's first attempt was made by a most courteous and even -complimentary note, in which he suggested to Lady Eustace that it would be -for the advantage of all parties that the family jewels should be kept -together. Lizzie, as she read this note, smiled, and said to herself that -she did not exactly see how her own interests would be best served by such -an arrangement. She made no answer to Mr. Camperdown's note. Some months -after this, when the heir was born, and as Lady Eustace was passing -through London on her journey from Bobsborough to Portray, a meeting had -been arranged between her and Mr. Camperdown. She had endeavoured by all -the wiles she knew to avoid this meeting, but it had been forced upon her. -She had been almost given to understand that unless she submitted to it, -she would not be able to draw her income from the Portray property. -Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus had advised her to submit. "My husband gave me a -necklace, and they want me to give it back," she had said to Mr. Mopus. -"Do nothing of the kind," Mr. Mopus had replied. "If you find it -necessary, refer Mr. Camperdown to us. We will answer him." The interview -had taken place, during which Mr. Camperdown took the trouble to explain -very plainly and more than once that the income from the Portray property -belonged to Lady Eustace for her life only. It would after her death be -rejoined, of necessity, to the rest of the Eustace property. This was -repeated to Lady Eustace in the presence of John Eustace; but she made no -remark on being so informed. "You understand the nature of the settlement, -Lady Eustace?" Mr. Camperdown had said. "I believe I understand -everything," she replied. Then, just at the close of the interview, he -asked a question about the jewels. Lady Eustace at first made no reply. -"They might as well be sent back to Messrs. Garnett," said Mr. Camperdown. -"I don't know that I have any to send back," she answered; and then she -escaped before Mr. Camperdown was able to arrange any further attack. "I -can manage with her better by letter than I can personally," he said to -John Eustace. - -Lawyers such as Mr. Camperdown are slow, and it was three or four months -after that when he wrote a letter in his own name to Lady Eustace, -explaining to her, still courteously, that it was his business to see that -the property of the Eustace family was placed in fit hands, and that a -certain valuable necklace of diamonds, which was an heirloom of the -family, and which was undeniably the property of the heir, was believed to -be in her custody. As such property was peculiarly subject to risks, would -she have the kindness to make arrangements for handing over the necklace -to the custody of the Messrs. Garnett? To this letter Lizzie made no -answer whatever, nor did she to a second note, calling attention to the -first. When John Eustace told Greystock that. Camperdown intended to "jump -upon" Lady Eustace, the following further letter had been written by the -firm, but up to that time Lizzie had not replied to it: - -"62 NEW SQUARE, LINCOLN'S INN, - -"5 MAY, 186-. - -"MADAM: It is our duty as attorneys acting on behalf of the estate of your -late husband, Sir Florian Eustace, and in the interest of your son, his -heir, to ask for restitution of a certain valuable diamond necklace which -is believed to be now in the possession of your ladyship. Our senior -partner, Mr. Camperdown, has written to your ladyship more than once on -the subject, but has not been honoured with any reply. Doubtless had there -been any mistake as to the necklace being in your hands we would have been -so informed. The diamonds were withdrawn from Messrs. Garnett, the -jewellers, by Sir Florian soon after his marriage, and were, no doubt, -intrusted to your keeping. They are appanages of the family which should -not be in your hands as the widow of the late baronet, and they constitute -an amount of property which certainly cannot be alienated from the family -without inquiry or right, as might any trifling article either of use or -ornament. The jewels are valued at over £10,000. - -"We are reluctantly compelled, by the fact of your having left unanswered -three letters from Mr. Camperdown, Senior, on the subject, to explain to -you that if attention be not paid to this letter, we shall be obliged, in -the performance of our duty, to take legal steps for the restitution of -the property. - -"We have the honour to be, Madam, - -"Your ladyship's most obedient servants, - -"CAMPERDOWN & SON. - -"To LADY EUSTACE," etc., etc. - -A few days after it was sent, old Mr. Camperdown got the letter-book of -the office and read the letter to John Eustace. - -"I don't see how you're to get them," said Eustace. - -"We'll throw upon her the burden of showing that they have become legally -her property. She can't do it." - -"Suppose she sold them?" - -"We'll follow them up. Ten thousand pounds, my dear John! God bless my -soul! it's a magnificent dowry for a daughter--an ample provision for a -younger son. And she is to be allowed to filch it, as other widows filch -china cups and a silver teaspoon or two! It's quite a common thing, but I -never heard of such a haul as this." - -"It will be very unpleasant," said Eustace. - -"And then she still goes about everywhere declaring that the Portray -property is her own. She's a bad lot. I knew it from the first. Of course -we shall have trouble." Then Mr. Eustace explained to the lawyer that -their best way out of it all would be to get the widow married to some -respectable husband. She was sure to marry sooner or later, so John -Eustace said, and any "decently decent" fellow would be easier to deal -with than she herself. "He must be very indecently indecent if he is not," -said Mr. Camperdown. But Mr. Eustace did not name Frank Graystock the -barrister as the probable future decent husband. - -When Lizzie first got the letter, which she did on the day after the visit -at Fawn Court of which mention has been made, she put it by unread for a -couple of days. She opened it, not knowing the clerk's handwriting, but -read only the first line and the signature. For two days she went on with -the ordinary affairs and amusements of her life, as though no such letter -had reached her; but was thinking of it all the time. The diamonds were in -her possession, and she had had them valued by her old friend Mr. Benjamin -of the firm of Harter & Benjamin. Mr. Benjamin had suggested that stones -of such a value should not be left to the risk of an ordinary London -house; but Lizzie had felt that if Mr. Benjamin got them into his hands, -Mr. Benjamin might perhaps not return them. Messrs. Camperdown and Garnett -between them might form a league with Mr. Benjamin. Where would she be, -should Mr. Benjamin tell her that under some legal sanction he had given -the jewels up to Mr. Camperdown? She hinted to Mr. Benjamin that she would -perhaps sell them if she got a good offer. Mr. Benjamin, who was very -familiar with her, hinted that there might be a little family difficulty. -"Oh, none in the least," said Lizzie; "but I don't think I shall part with -them." Then she gave Mr. Benjamin an order for a strong box, which was -supplied to her. The strong box, which was so heavy that she could barely -lift it herself, was now in her London bedroom. - -On the morning of the third day she read the letter. Miss Macnulty was -staying with her, but she had not said a word to Miss Macnulty about the -letter. She read it up in her own bedroom and then sat down to think about -it. Sir Florian, as he had handed to her the stones for the purpose of a -special dinner party which had been given to them when passing through -London, had told her that they were family jewels. "That setting was done -for my mother," he said, "but it is already old. When we are at home again -they shall be reset." Then he had added some little husband's joke as to a -future daughter-in-law who should wear them. Nevertheless she was not sure -whether the fact of their being so handed to her did not make them her -own. She had spoken a second time to Mr. Mopus, and Mr. Mopus had asked -her whether there existed any family deed as to the diamonds. She had -heard of no such deed, nor did Mr. Camperdown mention such a deed. After -reading the letter once she read it a dozen times; and then, like a woman, -made up her mind that her safest course would be not to answer it. - -But yet she felt sure that something unpleasant would come of it. Mr. -Camperdown was not a man to take up such a question and let it drop. Legal -steps! What did legal steps mean, and what could they do to her? Would Mr. -Camperdown be able to put her in prison, or to take away from her the -estate of Portray? She could swear that her husband had given them to her, -and could invent any form of words she pleased as accompanying the gift. -No one else had been near them then. But she was, and felt herself to be -absolutely, alarmingly ignorant, not only of the laws but of custom in -such matters. Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus and Mr. Benjamin were the allies to -whom she looked for guidance; but she was wise enough to know that Mowbray -& Mopus and Harter & Benjamin were not trustworthy, whereas Camperdown & -Son and the Messrs. Garnett were all as firm as rocks and as respectable -as the Bank of England. Circumstances--unfortunate circumstances--drove -her to Harter & Benjamin and to Mowbray & Mopus, while she would have -taken so much delight in feeling the strong honesty of the other people to -be on her side! She would have talked to her friends about Mr. Camperdown -and the people at Garnetts' with so much satisfaction! But ease, security, -and even respectability may be bought too dearly. Ten thousand pounds! Was -she prepared to surrender such a sum as that? She had, indeed, already -realized the fact that it might be very difficult to touch the money. When -she had suggested to Mr. Benjamin that he should buy the jewels, that -worthy tradesman had by no means jumped at the offer. Of what use to her -would be a necklace always locked up in an iron box, which box, for aught -she knew, myrmidons from Mr. Camperdown might carry off during her absence -from the house? Would it not be better to come to terms and surrender? But -then what should the terms be? - -If only there had been a friend whom she could consult--a friend whom she -could consult on a really friendly footing!--not a simply respectable, -off-handed, high-minded friend, who would advise her as a matter of course -to make restitution. Her uncle the dean, or her cousin Frank, or old Lady -Fawn, would be sure to give her such advice as that. There are people who -are so very high-minded when they have to deal with the interests of their -friends! What if she were to ask Lord Fawn? - -Thoughts of a second marriage had, of course, crossed Lady Eustace's mind, -and they were by no means the worst thoughts that found a place there. She -had a grand idea--this selfish, hard-fisted little woman, who could not -bring herself to abandon the plunder on which she had laid her hand--a -grand idea of surrendering herself and all her possessions to a great -passion. For Florian Eustace she had never cared. She had sat down by his -side, and looked into his handsome face, and read poetry to him, because -of his wealth, and because it had been indispensable to her to settle -herself well. And he had been all very well--a generous, open-hearted, -chivalrous, irascible, but rather heavy-minded gentleman; but she had -never been in love with him. Now she desired to be so in love that she -could surrender everything to her love. There was as yet nothing of such -love in her bosom. She had seen no one who had so touched her. But she was -alive to the romance of the thing, and was in love with the idea of being -in love. "Ah," she would say to herself in her moments of solitude, "if I -had a Corsair of my own, how I would sit on watch for my lover's boat by -the sea-shore!" And she believed it of herself that she could do so. - -But it would also be very nice to be a peeress--so that she might, without -any doubt, be one of the great ladies of London. As a baronet's widow with -a large income, she was already almost a great lady; but she was quite -alive to a suspicion that she was not altogether strong in her position. -The bishop's people and the dean's people did not quite trust her. The -Camperdowns and Garnetts utterly distrusted her. The Mopuses and Benjamins -were more familiar than they would be with a really great lady. She was -sharp enough to understand all this. Should it be Lord Fawn or should it -be a Corsair? The worst of Lord Fawn was the undoubted fact that he was -not himself a great man. He could, no doubt, make his wife a peeress; but -he was poor, encumbered with a host of sisters, dull as a blue-book, and -possessed of little beyond his peerage to recommend him. If she could only -find a peer, unmarried, with a dash of the Corsair about him! In the -meantime what was she to do about the jewels? - -There was staying with her at this time a certain Miss Macnulty, who was -related, after some distant fashion, to old Lady Linlithgow, and who was -as utterly destitute of possessions or means of existence as any -unfortunate, well-born, and moderately-educated middle-aged woman in -London. To live upon her friends, such as they might be, was the only mode -of life within her reach. It was not that she had chosen such dependence; -nor, indeed, had she endeavoured to reject it. It had come to her as a -matter of course--either that or the poor-house. As to earning her bread, -except by that attendance which a poor friend gives, the idea of any -possibility that way had never entered her head. She could do nothing-- -except dress like a lady with the smallest possible cost, and endeavour to -be obliging. Now, at this moment, her condition was terribly precarious. -She had quarrelled with Lady Linlithgow, and had been taken in by her old -friend Lizzie--her old enemy might, perhaps, be a truer expression-- -because of that quarrel. But a permanent home had not even been promised -to her; and poor Miss Macnulty was aware that even a permanent home with -Lady Eustace would not be an unmixed blessing. In her way, Miss Macnulty -was an honest woman. - -They were sitting together one May afternoon in the little back drawing- -room in Mount Street. They had dined early, were now drinking tea, and -intended to go to the opera. It was six o'clock, and was still broad day, -but the thick coloured blind was kept across the single window, and the -folding doors of the room were nearly closed, and there was a feeling of -evening in the room. The necklace during the whole day had been so heavy -on Lizzie's heart that she had been unable to apply her thoughts to the -building of that castle in the air in which the Corsair was to reign -supreme, but not alone. "My dear," she said--she generally called Miss -Macnulty my dear--"you know that box I had made by the jewellers." - -"You mean the safe." - -"Well--yes; only it isn't a safe. A safe is a great big thing. I had it -made especially for the diamonds Sir Florian gave me." - -"I supposed it was so." - -"I wonder whether there's any danger about it?" - -"If I were you, Lady Eustace, I wouldn't keep them in the house. I should -have them kept where Sir Florian kept them. Suppose anybody should come -and murder you." - -"I'm not a bit afraid of that," said Lizzie. - -"I should be. And what will you do with it when you go to Scotland?" - -"I took them with me before--in my own care. I know that wasn't safe. I -wish I knew what to do with them." - -"There are people who keep such things," said Miss Macnulty. - -Then Lizzie paused a moment. She was dying for counsel and for confidence. -"I cannot trust them anywhere," she said. "It is just possible there may -be a lawsuit about them." - -"How a lawsuit?" - -"I cannot explain it all, but I am very unhappy about it. They want me to -give them up; but my husband gave them to me, and for his sake I will not -do so. When he threw them around my neck he told me that they were my own ---so he did. How can a woman give up such a present--from a husband--who -is dead? As to the value, I care nothing. But I won't do it." By this time -Lady Eustace was in tears, and had so far succeeded as to have produced -some amount of belief in Miss Macnulty's mind. - -"If they are your own, they can't take them from you," said Miss Macnulty. - -"They shan't. They shall find that I've got some spirit left." Then she -reflected that a real Corsair lover would protect her jewels for her-- -would guard them against a score of Camperdowns. But she doubted whether -Lord Fawn would do much in that way. Then the door was opened, and Lord -Fawn was announced. It was not at all unusual with Lord Fawn to call on -the widow at this hour. Mount Street is not exactly in the way from the -India Office to the House of Lords; but a hansom cab can make it almost in -the way. Of neglect of official duty Lord Fawn was never guilty; but a -half hour for private business or for relaxation between one stage of duty -and another--can any Minister grudge so much to an indefatigable follower? -Lady Eustace had been in tears as he was announced, but the light of the -room was so low that the traces of them could hardly be seen. She was in -her Corsair state of mind, divided between her jewels and her poetry, and -caring not very much for the increased rank which Lord Fawn could give -her. "The Sawab's case is coming on in the House of Commons this very -night," he said, in answer to a question from Miss Macnulty. Then he -turned to Lady Eustace. "Your cousin, Mr. Greystock, is going to ask a -question in the House." - -"Shall you be there to answer him?" asked Miss Macnulty innocently. - -"Oh dear, no. But I shall be present. A peer can go, you know." Then Lord -Fawn, at considerable length, explained to the two ladies the nature and -condition of the British Parliament. Miss Macnulty experienced an innocent -pleasure in having such things told to her by a lord. Lady Eustace knew -that this was the way in which Lord Fawn made love, and thought that from -him it was as good as any other way. If she were to marry a second time -simply with a view of being a peeress, of having a respected husband, and -making good her footing in the world, she would as lief listen to -parliamentary details and the prospects of the Sawab as to any other -matters. She knew very well that no Corsair propensities would be -forthcoming from Lord Fawn. Lord Fawn had just worked himself round to the -Sawab again, when Frank Greystock entered the room. "Now we have both the -Houses represented," said Lady Eustace, as she welcomed her cousin. - -"You intend to ask your question about the Sawab tonight?" asked Lord Fawn -with intense interest, feeling that had it been his lot to perform that -task before he went to his couch, he would at this moment have been -preparing his little speech. - -But Frank Greystock had not come to his cousin's house to talk of the -Prince of the Mygawb territory. When his friend Eustace had suggested to -him that he should marry the widow, he had ridiculed the idea. But -nevertheless he had thought of it a good deal. He was struggling hard, -working diligently, making for himself a character in Parliament, -succeeding--so said all his friends--as a barrister. He was a rising young -man, one of those whose names began to be much in the mouths of other men; -but still he was poor. It seemed to himself that among other good gifts -that of economy had not been bestowed upon him. He owed a little money, -and though he owed it, he went on spending his earnings. He wanted just -such a lift in the world as a wife with an income would give him. As for -looking about for a girl whom he could honestly love, and who should have -a fortune of her own, as well as beauty, birth, and all the other things-- -that was out of his reach. If he talked to himself of love, if he were -ever to acknowledge to himself that love was to have sway over him, then -must Lucy Morris be the mistress of his heart. He had come to know enough -about himself to be aware of that; but he knew also that he had said -nothing binding him to walk in that path. It was quite open to him to -indulge a discreet ambition without dishonour. Therefore he also had come -to call upon the beautiful widow. The courtship with her he knew need not -be long. He could ask her to marry him to-morrow--as for that matter, -to-day--without a feeling of hesitation. She might accept him, or might -reject him; but, as he said to himself, in neither case would any harm be -done. - -An idea of the same kind flitted across Lizzie's mind as she sat and -talked to the two gentlemen. She knew that her cousin Frank was poor, but -she thought that she could fall in love with him. He was not exactly a -Corsair, but he was a man who had certain Corsair propensities. He was -bold and dashing, unscrupulous and clever--a man to make a name for -himself, and one to whom a woman could endure to be obedient. There could -be no question as to choice between him and Lord Fawn if she were to allow -herself to choose by liking. And she thought that Frank Greystock would -keep the necklace, if he himself were made to have an interest in the -necklace; whereas Lord Fawn would undoubtedly surrender it at once to Mr. -Camperdown. - -Lord Fawn had some slight idea of waiting to see the cousin go; but as -Greystock had a similar idea, and as he was the stronger of the two, of -course Lord Fawn went. He perhaps remembered that the hansom cab was at -the door, costing sixpence every fifteen minutes, and that he wished to -show himself in the House of Lords before the peers rose. Miss Macnulty -also left the room, and Frank was alone with the widow. - -"Lizzie," said he, "you must be very solitary here." - -"I am solitary." - -"And hardly happy." - -"Anything but happy, Frank. I have things that make me very unhappy; one -thing that I will tell you if you will let me." - -Frank had almost made up his mind to ask her on the spot to give him -permission to console all her sorrows when there came a clattering double -knock at the door. - -"They know I shall be at home to nobody else now," said Lady Eustace. - -But Frank Greystock had hardly regained his self-possession when Miss -Macnulty hurried into the room, and, with a look almost of horror, -declared that Lady Linlithgow was in the parlour. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -LADY LINLITHGOW'S MISSION - - -"Lady Linlithgow," said Frank Greystock, holding up both his hands. - -"Yes, indeed," said Miss Macnulty. "I did not speak to her, but I saw her. -She has sent her ---- love to Lady Eustace, and begs that she will see -her." - -Lady Eustace had been so surprised by the announcement that hitherto she -had not spoken a word. The quarrel between her and her aunt had been of -such a nature that it had seemed to be impossible that the old countess -should come to Mount Street. Lizzie had certainly behaved very badly to -her aunt--about as badly as a young woman could behave to an old woman. -She had accepted bread, and shelter, and the very clothes on her back from -her aunt's bounty, and had rejected even the hand of her benefactress the -first moment that she had bread, and shelter, and clothes of her own. And -here was Lady Linlithgow down-stairs in the parlour, and sending up her -love to her niece! "I won't see her," said Lizzie. - -"You had better see her," said Frank. - -"I can't see her," said Lizzie. "Good gracious, my dear, what has she come -for?" - -"She says it's very important," said Miss Macnulty. - -"Of course you must see her," said Frank. "Let me get out of the house, -and then tell the servant to show her up at once. Don't be weak now, -Lizzie, and I'll come and find out all about it to-morrow." - -"Mind you do," said Lizzie. Then Frank took his departure, and Lizzie did -as she was bidden. "You remain in here, Julia," she said, "so as to be -near if I want you. She shall come into the front room." Then, absolutely -shaking with fear of the approaching evil, she took her seat in the -largest drawing-room. There was still a little delay. Time was given to -Frank Greystock to get away, and to do so without meeting Lady Linlithgow -in the passage. The message was conveyed by Miss Macnulty to the servant, -and the same servant opened the front door for Frank before he delivered -it. Lady Linlithgow, too, though very strong, was old. She was slow, or -perhaps it might more properly be said she was stately in her movements. -She was one of those old women who are undoubtedly old women--who in the -remembrance of younger people seem always to have been old women--but on -whom old age appears to have no debilitating effects. If the hand of Lady -Linlithgow ever trembled, it trembled from anger. If her foot ever -faltered, it faltered for effect. In her way Lady Linlithgow was a very -powerful human being. She knew nothing of fear, nothing of charity, -nothing of mercy, and nothing of the softness of love. She had no -imagination. She was worldly, covetous, and not unfrequently cruel. But -she meant to be true and honest, though she often failed in her meaning, -and she had an idea of her duty in life. She was not self-indulgent. She -was as hard as an oak post, but then she was also as trustworthy. No human -being liked her; but she had the good word of a great many human beings. -At great cost to her own comfort, she had endeavoured to do her duty to -her niece, Lizzie Greystock, when Lizzie was homeless. Undoubtedly -Lizzie's bed, while it had been spread under her aunt's roof, had not been -one of roses; but such as it had been, she had endured to occupy it while -it served her needs. She had constrained herself to bear her aunt; but -from the moment of her escape she had chosen to reject her aunt -altogether. Now her aunt's heavy step was heard upon the stairs! Lizzie -also was a brave woman after a certain fashion. She could dare to incur a -great danger for an adequate object. But she was too young as yet to have -become mistress of that persistent courage which was Lady Linlithgow's -peculiar possession. - -When the countess entered the drawing-room Lizzie rose upon her legs, but -did not come forward from her chair. The old woman was not tall; but her -face was long, and at the same time large, square at the chin and square -at the forehead, and gave her almost an appearance of height. Her nose was -very prominent, not beaked, but straight and strong, and broad at the -bridge, and of a dark-red colour. Her eyes were sharp and grey. Her mouth -was large, and over it there was almost beard enough for a young man's -moustache. Her chin was firm, and large, and solid. Her hair was still -brown, and was only just grizzled in parts. Nothing becomes an old woman -like gray hair, but Lady Linlithgow's hair would never be gray. Her -appearance, on the whole, was not prepossessing, but it gave one an idea -of honest, real strength. What one saw was not buckram, whalebone, paint, -and false hair. It was all human--hardly feminine, certainly not angelic, -with perhaps a hint in the other direction--but a human body, and not a -thing of pads and patches. Lizzie, as she saw her aunt, made up her mind -for the combat. Who is there that has lived to be a man or woman, and has -not experienced a moment in which a combat has impended, and a call for -such sudden courage has been necessary? Alas! sometimes the combat comes, -and the courage is not there. Lady Eustace was not at her ease as she saw -her aunt enter the room. "Oh, come ye in peace, or come ye in war?" she -would have said had she dared. Her aunt had sent up her love, if the -message had been delivered aright; but what of love could there be between -those two? The countess dashed at once to the matter in hand, making no -allusion to Lizzie's ungrateful conduct to herself. "Lizzie," she said, -"I've been asked to come to you by Mr. Camperdown. I'll sit down, if you -please." - -"Oh, certainly, Aunt Penelope. Mr. Camperdown!" - -"Yes; Mr. Camperdown. You know who he is. He has been to me because I am -your nearest relation. So I am, and therefore I have come. I don't like -it, I can tell you." - -"As for that, Aunt Penelope, you've done it to please yourself," said -Lizzie in a tone of insolence with which Lady Linlithgow had been familiar -in former days. - -"No, I haven't, Miss. I haven't come for my own pleasure at all. I have -come for the credit of the family, if any good can be done towards saving -it. You've got your husband's diamonds locked up somewhere, and you must -give them back." - -"My husband's diamonds were my diamonds," said Lizzie stoutly. - -"They were family diamonds, Eustace diamonds, heirlooms--old property -belonging to the Eustaces, just like their estates. Sir Florian didn't -give 'em away, and couldn't, and wouldn't if he could. Such things ain't -given away in that fashion. It's all nonsense, and you must give them up." - -"Who says so?" - -"I say so." - -"That's nothing, Aunt Penelope." - -"Nothing, is it? You'll see. Mr. Camperdown says so. All the world will -say so. If you don't take care, you'll find yourself brought into a court -of law, my dear, and a jury will say so. That's what it will come to. What -good will they do you? You can't sell them; and, as a widow, you can't -wear 'em. If you marry again, you wouldn't disgrace your husband by going -about showing off the Eustace diamonds. But you don't know anything about -'proper feelings.'" - -"I know every bit as much as you do, Aunt Penelope, and I don't want you -to teach me." - -"Will you give up the jewels to Mr. Camperdown?" - -"No, I won't." - -"Or to the jewellers?" - -"No, I won't. I mean to--keep them--for--my child." Then there came forth -a sob and a tear, and Lizzie's handkerchief was held to her eyes. - -"Your child! Wouldn't they be kept properly for him, and for the family, -if the jewellers had them? I don't believe you care about your child." - -"Aunt Penelope, you had better take care." - -"I shall say just what I think, Lizzie. You can't frighten me. The fact -is, you are disgracing the family you have married into, and as you are my -niece----" - -"I'm not disgracing anybody. You are disgracing everybody." - -"As you are my niece, I have undertaken to come to you and to tell you -that if you don't give 'em up within a week from this time they'll proceed -against you for--stealing 'em." Lady Linlithgow, as she uttered this -terrible threat, bobbed her head at her niece in a manner calculated to -add very much to the force of her words. The words, and tone, and gesture -combined were, in truth, awful. - -"I didn't steal them. My husband gave them to me with his own hands." - -"You wouldn't answer Mr. Camperdown's letters, you know. That alone will -condemn you. After that there isn't a word to be said about it--not a -word. Mr. Camperdown is the family lawyer, and when he writes to you -letter after letter you take no more notice of him than a--dog." The old -woman was certainly very powerful. The way in which she pronounced that -last word did make Lady Eustace ashamed of herself. "Why didn't you answer -his letters, unless you knew you were in the wrong? Of course you knew you -were in the wrong." - -"No, I didn't. A woman isn't obliged to answer everything that is written -to her." - -"Very well! You just say that before the Judge! for you'll have to go -before a judge. I tell you, Lizzie Greystock, or Eustace, or whatever your -name is, it's downright picking and stealing. I suppose you want to sell -them." - -"I won't stand this, Aunt Penelope," said Lizzie, rising from her seat. - -"You must stand it, and you'll have to stand worse than that. You don't -suppose Mr. Camperdown got me to come here for nothing. If you don't want -to be made out to be a thief before all the world----" - -"I won't stand it," shrieked Lizzie. "You have no business to come here -and say such things to me. It's my house." - -"I shall say just what I please." - -"Miss Macnulty, come in." And Lizzie threw open the door, hardly knowing -how the very weak ally whom she now invoked could help her, but driven by -the stress of the combat to seek assistance somewhere. Miss Macnulty, who -was seated near the door, and who had necessarily heard every word of the -conversation, had no alternative but to appear. Of all human beings Lady -Linlithgow was to her the most terrible, and yet, after a fashion, she -loved the old woman. Miss Macnulty was humble, cowardly, and subservient; -but she was not a fool, and she understood the difference between truth -and falsehood. - -She had endured fearful things from Lady Linlithgow; but she knew that -there might be more of sound protection in Lady Linlithgow's real wrath -than in Lizzie's pretended affection, - -"So you are there, are you?" said the countess. - -"Yes, I am here, Lady Linlithgow." - -"Listening, I suppose. Well, so much the better. You know well enough, and -you can tell her. You ain't a fool, though I suppose you'll be afraid to -open your mouth." - -"Julia," said Lady Eustace, "will you have the kindness to see that my -aunt is shown to her carriage? I cannot stand her violence, and I will go -up-stairs." So saying she made her way very gracefully into the back -drawing-room, whence she could escape to her bedroom. - -But her aunt fired a last shot at her. "Unless you do as you're bid, -Lizzie, you'll find yourself in prison as sure as eggs." Then, when her -niece was beyond hearing, she turned to Miss Macnulty. "I suppose you've -heard about these diamonds, Macnulty?" - -"I know she's got them, Lady Linlithgow." - -"She has no more right to them than you have. I suppose you're afraid to -tell her so, lest she should turn you out; but it's well she should know -it. I've done my duty. Never mind about the servant. I'll find my way out -of the house." Nevertheless the bell was rung, and the countess was shown -to her carriage with proper consideration. - -The two ladies went to the opera, and it was not till after their return, -and just as they were going to bed, that anything further was said about -either the necklace or the visit. Miss Macnulty would not begin the -subject, and Lizzie purposely postponed it. But not for a moment had it -been off Lady Eustace's mind. She did not care much for music, though she -professed to do so, and thought that she did. But on this night, had she -at other times been a slave to Saint Cecilia, she would have been free -from that thraldom. The old woman's threats had gone into her very heart's -blood. Theft, and prison, and juries, and judges had been thrown at her -head so violently that she was almost stunned. Could it really be the case -that they would prosecute her for stealing? She was Lady Eustace, and who -but Lady Eustace should have those diamonds or be allowed to wear them? -Nobody could say that Sir Florian had not given them to her. It could not, -surely, be brought against her as an actual crime that she had not -answered Mr. Camperdown's letters? And yet she was not sure. Her ideas -about law and judicial proceedings were very vague. Of what was wrong and -what was right she had a distinct notion. She knew well enough that she -was endeavouring to steal the Eustace diamonds; but she did not in the -least know what power there might be in the law to prevent or to punish -her for the intended theft. She knew well that the thing was not really -her own; but there were, as she thought, so many points in her favour, -that she felt it to be a cruelty that any one should grudge her the -plunder. Was not she the only Lady Eustace living? As to these threats -from Mr. Camperdown and Lady Linlithgow, she felt certain they would be -used against her whether they were true or false. She would break her -heart should she abandon her prey and afterwards find that Mr. Camperdown -would have been wholly powerless against her had she held on to it. But -then who would tell her the truth? She was sharp enough to understand, or -at any rate suspicious enough to believe, that Mr. Mopus would be actuated -by no other desire in the matter than that of running up a bill against -her. "My dear," she said to Miss Macnulty, as they went upstairs after the -opera, "come into my room a moment. You heard all that my aunt said." - -"I could not help hearing. You told me to stay there, and the door was -ajar." - -"I wanted you to hear. Of course what she said was the greatest nonsense -in the world." - -"I don't know." - -"When she talked about my being taken to prison for not answering a -lawyer's letter, that must be nonsense." - -"I suppose that was." - -"And then she is such a ferocious old termagant--such an old vulturess. -Now isn't she a ferocious old termagant?" Lizzie paused for an answer, -desirous that her companion should join her in her enmity against her -aunt; but Miss Macnulty was unwilling to say anything against one who had -been her protectress, and might, perhaps, be her protectress again. "You -don't mean to say you don't hate her?" said Lizzie. "If you didn't hate -her after all she has done to you, I should despise you. Don't you hate -her?" - -"I think she's a very upsetting old woman," said Miss Macnulty. - -"Oh, you poor creature! Is that all you dare say about her?" - -"I'm obliged to be a poor creature," said Miss Macnulty, with a red spot -on each of her cheeks. - -Lady Eustace understood this, and relented. "But you needn't be afraid," -she said, "to tell me what you think." - -"About the diamonds, you mean." - -"Yes, about the diamonds." - -"You have enough without them. I'd give 'em up for peace and quiet." That -was Miss Macnulty's advice. - -"No, I haven't enough, or nearly enough. I've had to buy ever so many -things since my husband died. They've done all they could to be hard to -me. They made me pay for the very furniture at Portray." This wasn't true; -but it was true that Lizzie had endeavoured to palm off on the Eustace -estate bills for new things which she had ordered for her own country- -house. "I haven't near enough. I am in debt already. People talked as -though I were the richest woman in the world; but when it comes to be -spent, I ain't rich. Why should I give them up if they're my own?" - -"Not if they're your own." - -"If I give you a present and then die, people can't come and take it away -afterwards because I didn't put it into my will. There'd be no making -presents like that at all." This Lizzie said with an evident conviction in -the strength of her argument. - -"But this necklace is so very valuable." - -"That can't make a difference. If a thing is a man's own he can give it -away; not a house, or a farm, or a wood, or anything like that, but a -thing that he can carry about with him--of course he can give it away." - -"But perhaps Sir Florian didn't mean to give it for always," suggested -Miss Macnulty. - -"But perhaps he did. He told me that they were mine, and I shall keep -them. So that's the end of it. You can go to bed now." And Miss Macnulty -went to bed. - -Lizzie, as she sat thinking of it, owned to herself that no help was to be -expected in that quarter. She was not angry with Miss Macnulty, who was, -almost of necessity, a poor creature. But she was convinced more strongly -than ever that some friend was necessary to her who should not be a poor -creature. Lord Fawn, though a peer, was a poor creature. Frank Greystock -she believed to be as strong as a house. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MR. BURKE'S SPEECHES - - -Lucy Morris had been told by Lady Fawn that--in point of fact, that, being -a governess, she ought to give over falling in love with Frank Greystock, -and she had not liked it. Lady Fawn, no doubt, had used words less abrupt ---had probably used but few words, and had expressed her meaning chiefly -by little winks, and shakings of her head, and small gestures of her -hands, and had ended by a kiss--in all of which she had intended to mingle -mercy with justice, and had, in truth, been full of love. Nevertheless, -Lucy had not liked it. No girl likes to be warned against falling in love, -whether the warning be needed or not needed. In this case Lucy knew very -well that the caution was too late. It might be all very well for Lady -Fawn to decide that her governess should not receive visits from a lover -in her house; and then the governess might decide whether, in those -circumstances, she would remain or go away; but Lady Fawn could have no -right to tell her governess not to be in love. All this Lucy said to -herself over and over again, and yet she knew that Lady Fawn had treated -her well. The old woman had kissed her, and purred over her, and praised -her, and had really loved her. As a matter of course, Lucy was not -entitled to have a lover. Lucy knew that well enough. As she walked alone -among the shrubs she made arguments in defence of Lady Fawn as against -herself. And yet at every other minute she would blaze up into a grand -wrath, and picture to herself a scene in which she would tell Lady Fawn -boldly that as her lover had been banished from Fawn Court, she, Lucy, -would remain there no longer. There were but two objections to this -course. The first was that Frank Greystock was not her lover; and the -second, that on leaving Fawn Court she would not know whither to betake -herself. It was understood by everybody that she was never to leave Fawn -Court till an unexceptionable home should be found for her, either with -the Hittaways or elsewhere. Lady Fawn would no more allow her to go away, -depending for her future on the mere chance of some promiscuous -engagement, than she would have turned one of her own daughters out of the -house in the same forlorn condition. Lady Fawn was a tower of strength to -Lucy. But then a tower of strength may at any moment become a dungeon. - -Frank Greystock was not her lover. Ah, there was the worst of it all! She -had given her heart and had got nothing in return. She conned it all over -in her own mind, striving to ascertain whether there was any real cause -for shame to her in her conduct. Had she been unmaidenly? Had she been too -forward with her heart? Had it been extracted from her, as women's hearts -are extracted, by efforts on the man's part; or had she simply chucked it -away from her to the first comer? Then she remembered certain scenes at -the deanery, words that had been spoken, looks that had been turned upon -her, a pressure of the hand late at night, a little whisper, a ribbon that -had been begged, a flower that had been given; and once, once----; then -there came a burning blush upon her cheek that there should have been so -much, and yet so little that was of avail. She had no right to say to any -one that the man was her lover. She had no right to assure herself that he -was her lover. But she knew that some wrong was done her in that he was -not her lover. - -Of the importance of her own self as a living thing with a heart to suffer -and a soul to endure, she thought enough. She believed in herself, -thinking of herself, that should it ever be her lot to be a man's wife, -she would be to him a true, loving friend and companion, living in his -joys, and fighting, if it were necessary, down to the stumps of her nails -in his interests. But of what she had to give over and above her heart and -intellect she never thought at all. Of personal beauty she had very little -appreciation even in others. The form and face of Lady Eustace, which -indeed were very lovely, were distasteful to her; whereas she delighted to -look upon the broad, plain, colourless countenance of Lydia Fawn, who was -endeared to her by frank good-humour and an unselfish disposition. In -regard to men, she had never asked herself the question whether this man -was handsome or that man ugly. Of Frank Greystock she knew that his face -was full of quick intellect; and of Lord Fawn she knew that he bore no -outward index of mind. One man she not only loved, but could not help -loving. The other man, as regarded that sort of sympathy which marriage -should recognise, must always have been worlds asunder from her. She knew -that men demand that women shall possess beauty, and she certainly had -never thought of herself as beautiful; but it did not occur to her that on -that account she was doomed to fail. She was too strong-hearted for any -such fear. She did not think much of these things, but felt herself to be -so far endowed as to be fit to be the wife of such a man as Frank -Greystock. She was a proud, stout, self-confident, but still modest little -woman, too fond of truth to tell lies of herself even to herself. She was -possessed of a great power of sympathy, genial, very social, greatly given -to the mirth of conversation--though in talking she would listen much and -say but little. She was keenly alive to humour, and had at her command a -great fund of laughter, which would illumine her whole face without -producing a sound from her mouth. She knew herself to be too good to be a -governess for life; and yet how could it be otherwise with her? - -Lady Linlithgow's visit to her niece had been made on a Thursday, and on -that same evening Frank Greystock had asked his question in the House of -Commons--or rather had made his speech about the Sawab of Mygawb. We all -know the meaning of such speeches. Had not Frank belonged to the party -that was out, and had not the resistance to the Sawab's claim come from -the party that was in, Frank would not probably have cared much about the -prince. We may be sure that he would not have troubled himself to read a -line of that very dull and long pamphlet of which he had to make himself -master before he could venture to stir in the matter, had not the road of -Opposition been open to him in that direction. But what exertion will not -a politician make with the view of getting the point of his lance within -the joints of his enemies' harness? Frank made his speech, and made it -very well. It was just the case for a lawyer, admitting that kind of -advocacy which it is a lawyer's business to practise. The Indian minister -of the day, Lord Fawn's chief, had determined, after much anxious -consideration, that it was his duty to resist the claim; and then, for -resisting it, he was attacked. Had he yielded to the claim, the attack -would have been as venomous, and very probably would have come from the -same quarter. No blame by such an assertion is cast upon the young -Conservative aspirant for party honours. It is thus the war is waged. -Frank Greystock took up the Sawab's case, and would have drawn mingled -tears and indignation from his hearers, had not his hearers all known the -conditions of the contest. On neither side did the hearers care much for -the Sawab's claims, but they felt that Greystock was making good his own -claims to some future reward from his party. He was very hard upon the -minister, and he was hard also upon Lord Fawn, stating that the cruelty of -Government ascendancy had never been put forward as a doctrine in plainer -terms than those which had been used in "another place" in reference to -the wrongs of this poor ill-used native chieftain. This was very grievous -to Lord Fawn, who had personally desired to favour the ill-used chieftain; -and harder again because he and Greystock were intimate with each other. -He felt the thing keenly, and was full of his grievance when, in -accordance with his custom, he came down to Fawn Court on the Saturday -evening. - -The Fawn family, which consisted entirely of women, dined early. On -Saturdays, when his lordship would come down, a dinner was prepared for -him alone. On Sundays they all dined together at three o'clock. On Sunday -evening Lord Fawn would return to town to prepare himself for his Monday's -work. Perhaps, also, he disliked the sermon which Lady Fawn always read to -the assembled household at nine o'clock on Sunday evening. On this -Saturday he came out into the grounds after dinner, where the oldest -unmarried daughter, the present Miss Fawn, was walking with Lucy Morris. -It was almost a summer evening; so much so, that some of the party had -been sitting on the garden benches, and four of the girls were still -playing croquet on the lawn, though there was hardly light enough to see -the balls. Miss Fawn had already told Lucy that her brother was very angry -with Mr. Greystock. Now, Lucy's sympathies were all with Frank and the -Sawab. She had endeavoured, indeed, and had partially succeeded, in -perverting the Under-Secretary. Nor did she now intend to change her -opinions, although all the Fawn girls, and Lady Fawn, were against her. -When a brother or a son is an Under-Secretary of State, sisters and -mothers will constantly be on the side of the Government, so far as that -Under-Secretary's office is concerned. - -"Upon my word, Frederic," said Augusta Fawn, "I do think Mr. Greystock was -too bad." - -"There's nothing these fellows won't say or do," exclaimed Lord Fawn. "I -can't understand it myself. When I've been in opposition, I never did that -kind of thing." - -"I wonder whether it was because he is angry with mamma," said Miss Fawn. -Everybody who knew the Fawns knew that Augusta Fawn was not clever, and -that she would occasionally say the very thing that ought not to be said. - -"Oh, dear, no," said the Under-Secretary, who could not endure the idea -that the weak women-mind of his family should have, in any way, an -influence on the august doings of Parliament. - -"You know mamma did----" - -"Nothing of that kind at all," said his lordship, putting down his sister -with great authority. "Mr. Greystock is simply not an honest politician. -That is about the whole of it. He chose to attack me because there was an -opportunity. There isn't a man in either House who cares for such things, -personally, less than I do." Had his lordship said "more than he did," he -might perhaps have been correct. "But I can't bear the feeling. The fact -is, a lawyer never understands what is and what is not fair fighting." - -Lucy felt her face tingling with heat, and was preparing to say a word in -defence of that special lawyer, when Lady Fawn's voice was heard from the -drawing-room window. "Come in, girls. It's nine o'clock." In that house -Lady Fawn reigned supreme, and no one ever doubted for a moment as to her -obedience. The clicking of the balls ceased, and those who were walking -immediately turned their faces to the drawing-room window. But Lord Fawn, -who was not one of the girls, took another turn by himself, thinking of -the wrongs he had endured. - -"Frederic is so angry about Mr. Greystock," said Augusta, as soon as they -were seated. - -"I do feel that it was provoking," said the second sister. - -"And considering that Mr. Greystock has so often been here, I don't think -it was kind," said the third. - -Lydia did not speak, but could not refrain from glancing her eyes at -Lucy's face. "I believe everything is considered fair in Parliament," said -Lady Fawn. - -Then Lord Fawn, who had heard the last words, entered through the window. -"I don't know about that, mother," said he. "Gentlemanlike conduct is the -same everywhere. There are things that may be said and there are things -which may not. Mr. Greystock has altogether gone beyond the usual limits, -and I shall take care that he knows my opinion." - -"You are not going to quarrel with the man?" asked the mother. - -"I am not going to fight him, if you mean that; but I shall let him know -that I think that he has transgressed." This his lordship said with that -haughty superiority which a man may generally display with safety among -the women of his own family. - -Lucy had borne a great deal, knowing well that it was better that she -should bear such injury in silence; but there was a point beyond which she -could not endure it. It was intolerable to her that Mr. Greystock's -character as a gentleman should be impugned before all the ladies of the -family, every one of whom did, in fact, know her liking for the man. And -then it seemed to her that she could rush into the battle, giving a side -blow at his lordship on behalf of his absent antagonist, but appearing to -fight for the Sawab. There had been a time when the poor Sawab was in -favour at Fawn Court. "I think Mr. Greystock was right to say all he could -for the prince. If he took up the cause, he was bound to make the best of -it." She spoke with energy and with a heightened colour; and Lady Fawn, -hearing her, shook her head at her. - -"Did you read Mr. Greystock's speech, Miss Morris?" asked Lord Fawn. - -"Every word of it, in the 'Times.'" - -"And you understood his allusion to what I had been called upon to say in -the House of Lords on behalf of the Government?" - -"I suppose I did. It did not seem to be difficult to understand." - -"I do think Mr. Greystock should have abstained from attacking Frederic," -said Augusta. - -"It was not--not quite the thing that we are accustomed to," said Lord -Fawn. - -"Of course I don't know about that," said Lucy. "I think the prince is -being used very ill, that he is being deprived of his own property, that -he is kept out of his rights, just because he is weak, and I am very glad -that there is some one to speak up for him." - -"My dear Lucy," said Lady Fawn, "if you discuss politics with Lord Fawn, -you'll get the worst of it." - -"I don't at all object to Miss Morris's views about the Sawab," said the -Under-Secretary, generously. "There is a great deal to be said on both -sides. I know of old that Miss Morris is a great friend of the Sawab." - -"You used to be his friend, too," said Lucy. - -"I felt for him, and do feel for him. All that is very well. I ask no one -to agree with me on the question itself. I only say that Mr. Greystock's -mode of treating it was unbecoming." - -"I think it was the very best speech I ever read in my life," said Lucy, -with headlong energy and heightened colour. - -"Then, Miss Morris, you and I have very different opinions about -speeches," said Lord Fawn, with severity. "You have, probably, never read -Burke's speeches." - -"And I don't want to read them," said Lucy. - -"That is another question," said Lord Fawn; and his tone and manner were -very severe indeed. - -"We are talking about speeches in Parliament," said Lucy. Poor Lucy! She -knew quite as well as did Lord Fawn that Burke had been a House of Commons -orator; but in her impatience, and from absence of the habit of argument, -she omitted to explain that she was talking about the speeches of the day. - -Lord Fawn held up his hands, and put his head a little on one side. "My -dear Lucy," said Lady Fawn, "you are showing your ignorance. Where do you -suppose that Mr. Burke's speeches were made?" - -"Of course I know they were made in Parliament," said Lucy, almost in -tears. - -"If Miss Morris means that Burke's greatest efforts were not made in -Parliament, that his speech to the electors of Bristol, for instance, and -his opening address on the trial of Warren Hastings, were, upon the whole, -superior to----" - -"I didn't mean anything at all," said Lucy. - -"Lord Fawn is trying to help you, my dear," said Lady Fawn. - -"I don't want to be helped," said Lucy. "I only mean that I thought Mr. -Greystock's speech as good as it could possibly be. There wasn't a word in -it that didn't seem to me to be just what it ought to be. I do think that -they are ill-treating that poor Indian prince, and I am very glad that -somebody has had the courage to get up and say so." - -No doubt it would have been better that Lucy should have held her tongue. -Had she simply been upholding against an opponent a political speaker -whose speech she had read with pleasure, she might have held her own in -the argument against the whole Fawn family. She was a favourite with them -all, and even the Under-Secretary would not have been hard upon her. But -there had been more than this for poor Lucy to do. Her heart was so truly -concerned in the matter that she could not refrain herself from resenting -an attack on the man she loved. She had allowed herself to be carried into -superlatives, and had almost been uncourteous to Lord Fawn. "My dear," -said Lady Fawn, "we won't say anything more upon the subject." Lord Fawn -took up a book. Lady Fawn busied herself in her knitting. Lydia assumed a -look of unhappiness, as though something very sad had occurred. Augusta -addressed a question to her brother in a tone which plainly indicated a -feeling on her part that her brother had been ill-used and was entitled to -especial consideration. Lucy sat silent and still, and then left the room -with a hurried step. Lydia at once rose to follow her, but was stopped by -her mother. "You had better leave her alone just at present, my dear," -said Lady Fawn. - -"I did not know that Miss Morris was so particularly interested in Mr. -Greystock," said Lord Fawn. - -"She has known him since she was a child," said his mother, About an hour -afterwards Lady Fawn went up-stairs and found Lucy sitting all alone in -the still so-called school-room. She had no candle, and had made no -pretence to do anything since she had left the room down-stairs. In the -interval family prayers had been read, and Lucy's absence was unusual and -contrary to rule. "Lucy, my dear, why are you sitting here?" said Lady -Fawn. - -"Because I am unhappy." - -"What makes you unhappy, Lucy?" - -"I don't know. I would rather you didn't ask me. I suppose I behaved badly -down-stairs." - -"My son would forgive you in a moment if you asked him." - -"No; certainly not. I can beg your pardon, Lady Fawn, but not his. Of -course I had no right to talk about speeches, and politics, and this -prince in your drawing-room." - -"Lucy, you astonish me." - -"But it is so. Dear Lady Fawn, don't look like that. I know how good you -are to me. I know you let me do things which other governesses mayn't do; -and say things; but still I am a governess, and I know I misbehaved--to -you." Then Lucy burst into tears. - -Lady Fawn, in whose bosom there was no stony corner or morsel of hard -iron, was softened at once. "My dear, you are more like another daughter -to me than anything else." - -"Dear Lady Fawn!" - -"But it makes me unhappy when I see your mind engaged about Mr. Greystock. -There is the truth, Lucy. You should not think of Mr. Greystock. Mr. -Greystock is a man who has his way to make in the world, and could not -marry you, even if, under other circumstances, he would wish to do so. You -know how frank I am with you, giving you credit for honest, sound good -sense. To me and to my girls, who know you as a lady, you are as dear a -friend as though you were--anything you may please to think. Lucy Morris -is to us our own dear, dear little friend Lucy. But Mr. Greystock, who is -a member of Parliament, could not marry a governess." - -"But I love him so dearly," said Lucy, getting up from her chair, "that -his slightest word is to me more than all the words of all the world -beside. It is no use, Lady Fawn. I do love him, and I don't mean to try to -give it up." Lady Fawn stood silent for a moment, and then suggested that -it would be better for them both to go to bed. During that minute she had -been unable to decide what she had better say or do in the present -emergency. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE CONQUERING HERO COMES - - -The reader will perhaps remember that when Lizzie Eustace was told that -her aunt was down-stairs Frank Greystock was with her, and that he -promised to return on the following day to hear the result of the -interview. Had Lady Linlithgow not come at that very moment Frank would -probably have asked his rich cousin to be his wife. She had told him that -she was solitary and unhappy; and after that what else could he have done -but ask her to be his wife? The old countess, however, arrived and -interrupted him. He went away abruptly, promising to come on the morrow; -but on the morrow he never came. It was a Friday, and Lizzie remained at -home for him the whole morning. When four o'clock was passed she knew that -he would be at the House. But still she did not stir. And she contrived -that Miss Macnulty should be absent the entire day. Miss Macnulty was even -made to go to the play by herself in the evening. But her absence was of -no service. Frank Greystock came not; and at eleven at night Lizzie swore -to herself that should he ever come again, he should come in vain. -Nevertheless, through the whole of Saturday she expected him with more or -less of confidence, and on the Sunday morning she was still well inclined -toward him. It might be that he would come on that day. She could -understand that a man with his hands so full of business as were those of -her cousin Frank should find himself unable to keep an appointment. Nor -would there be fair ground for permanent anger with such a one, even -should he forget an appointment. But surely he would come on the Sunday! -She had been quite sure that the offer was about to be made when that -odious old harridan had come in and disturbed everything. Indeed, the -offer had been all but made. She had felt the premonitory flutter, had -asked herself the important question, and had answered it. She had told -herself that the thing would do. Frank was not the exact hero that her -fancy had painted, but he was sufficiently heroic. Everybody said that he -would work his way up to the top of the tree, and become a rich man. At -any rate she had resolved; and then Lady Linlithgow had come in! Surely he -would come on the Sunday. - -He did not come on the Sunday, but Lord Fawn did come. Immediately after -morning church Lord Fawn declared his intention of returning at once from -Fawn Court to town. He was very silent at breakfast, and his sisters -surmised that he was still angry with poor Lucy. Lucy, too, was unlike -herself, was silent, sad, and oppressed. Lady Fawn was serious, and almost -solemn; so that there was little even of holy mirth at Fawn Court on that -Sunday morning. The whole family, however, went to church, and immediately -on their return Lord Fawn expressed his intention of returning to town. -All the sisters felt that an injury had been done to them by Lucy. It was -only on Sundays that their dinner-table was graced by the male member of -the family, and now he was driven away. "I am sorry that you are going to -desert us, Frederic," said Lady Fawn. Lord Fawn muttered something as to -absolute necessity, and went. The afternoon was very dreary at Fawn Court. -Nothing was said on the subject; but there was still the feeling that Lncy -had offended. At four o'clock on that Sunday afternoon Lord Fawn was -closeted with Lady Eustace. - -The "closeting" consisted simply in the fact that Miss Macnulty was not -present. Lizzie fully appreciated the pleasure, and utility, and general -convenience of having a companion, but she had no scruple whatever in -obtaining absolute freedom for herself when she desired it. "My dear," she -would say, "the best friends in the world shouldn't always be together; -should they? Wouldn't you like to go to the Horticultural?" Then Miss -Macnulty would go to the Horticultural, or else up into her own bedroom. -When Lizzie was beginning to wax wrathful again because Frank Greystock -did not come, Lord Fawn made his appearance. "How kind this is," said -Lizzie. "I thought you were always at Richmond on Sundays." - -"I have just come up from my mother's," said Lord Fawn, twiddling his hat. -Then Lizzie, with a pretty eagerness, asked after Lady Fawn and the girls, -and her dear little friend Lucy Morris. Lizzie could be very prettily -eager when she pleased. She leaned forward her face as she asked her -questions, and threw back her loose lustrous lock of hair, with her long -lithe fingers covered with diamonds--the diamonds, these, which Sir -Florian had really given her, or which she had procured from Mr. Benjamin -in the clever manner described in the opening chapter. "They are all quite -well, thank you," said Lord Fawn. "I believe Miss Morris is quite well, -though she was a little out of sorts last night." - -"She is not ill, I hope," said Lizzie, bringing the lustrous lock forward -again. - -"In her temper, I mean," said Lord Fawn. - -"Indeed! I hope Miss Lucy is not forgetting herself. That would be very -sad, after the great kindness she has received." Lord Fawn said that it -would be very sad, and then put his hat down upon the floor. It came upon -Lizzie at that moment, as by a flash of lightning--by an electric message -delivered to her intellect by that movement of the hat--that she might be -sure of Lord Fawn if she chose to take him. On Friday she might have been -sure of Frank, only that Lady Linlithgow came in the way. But now she did -not feel at all sure of Frank. Lord Fawn was at any rate a peer. She had -heard that he was a poor peer--but a peer, she thought, can't be -altogether poor. And though he was a stupid owl--she did not hesitate to -acknowledge to herself that he was as stupid as an owl--he had a position. -He was one of the Government, and his wife would, no doubt, be able to go -anywhere. It was becoming essential to her that she should marry. Even -though her husband should give up the diamonds, she would not in such case -incur the disgrace of surrendering them herself. She would have kept them -till she had ceased to be a Eustace. Frank had certainly meant it on that -Thursday afternoon; but surely he would have been in Mount street before -this if he had not changed his mind. We all know that a bird in the hand -is worth two in the bush. "I have been at Fawn Court once or twice," said -Lizzie, with her sweetest grace, "and I always think it a model of a real -family happiness." - -"I hope you may be there very often," said Lord Fawn. - -"Ah, I have no right to intrude myself often on your mother, Lord Fawn." - -There could hardly be a better opening than this for him had he chosen to -accept it. But it was not thus that he had arranged it--for he made his -arrangements. "There would be no feeling of that kind, I am sure," he -said. And then he was silent. How was he to deploy himself on the ground -before him so as to make the strategy which he had prepared answer the -occasion of the day? "Lady Eustace," he said, "I don't know what your -views of life may be." - -"I have a child, you know, to bring up." - -"Ah, yes; that gives a great interest, of course." - -"He will inherit a very large fortune, Lord Fawn; too large, I fear, to be -of service to a youth of one-and-twenty; and I must endeavour to fit him -for the possession of it. That is, and always must be, the chief object of -my existence." Then she felt that she had said too much. He was just the -man who would be fool enough to believe her. "Not but what it is hard to -do it. A mother can of course devote herself to her child; but when a -portion of the devotion must be given to the preservation of material -interests there is less of tenderness in it. Don't you think so?" - -"No doubt," said Lord Fawn; "no doubt." But he had not followed her, and -was still thinking of his own strategy. "It's a comfort, of course, to -know that one's child is provided for." - -"Oh, yes; but they tell me the poor little dear will have forty thousand a -year when he's of age; and when I look at him in his little bed, and press -him in my arms, and think of all that money, I almost wish that his father -had been a poor plain gentleman." Then the handkerchief was put to her -eyes, and Lord Fawn had a moment in which to collect himself. - -"Ah! I myself am a poor man, for my rank, I mean." - -"A man with your position, Lord Fawn, and your talents and genius for -business, can never be poor." - -"My father's property was all Irish, you know." - -"Was it indeed?" - -"And he was an Irish peer till Lord Melbourne gave him an English -peerage." - -"An Irish peer, was he?" Lizzie understood nothing of this, but presumed -that an Irish peer was a peer who had not sufficient money to live upon. -Lord Fawn, however, was endeavouring to describe his own history in as few -words as possible. - -"He was then made Lord Fawn of Richmond, in the peerage of the United -Kingdom. Fawn Court, you know, belonged to my mother's father before my -mother's marriage. The property in Ireland is still mine, but there's no -place on it." - -"Indeed!" - -"There was a house, but my father allowed it to tumble down. It's in -Tipperary; not at all a desirable country to live in." - -"Oh dear, no! Don't they murder the people?" - -"It's about five thousand a year, and out of that my mother has half for -her life." - -"What an excellent family arrangement," said Lizzie. There was so long a -pause made between each statement that she was forced to make some reply. - -"You see, for a peer, the fortune is very small indeed." - -"But then you have a salary, don't you?" - -"At present I have; but no one can tell how long that may last." - -"I'm sure it's for everybody's good that it should go on for ever so many -years," said Lizzie. - -"Thank you," said Lord Fawn. "I'm afraid, however, there are a great many -people who don't think so. Your cousin Greystock would do anything on -earth to turn us out." - -"Luckily my cousin Frank has not much power," said Lizzie. And in saying -it she threw into her tone, and into her countenance, a certain amount of -contempt for Frank as a man and as a politician, which was pleasant to -Lord Fawn. - -"Now," said he, "I have told you everything about myself which I was -bound, as a man of honour, to tell before I--I--I----. In short, you know -what I mean." - -"Oh, Lord Fawn!" - -"I have told you everything. I owe no money, but I could not afford to -marry a wife without an income. I admire you more than any woman I ever -saw. I love you with all my heart." He was now standing upright before -her, with the fingers of his right hand touching his left breast, and -there was something almost of dignity in his gesture and demeanour. "It -may be that you are determined never to marry again. I can only say that -if you will trust yourself to me--yourself and your child--I will do my -duty truly by you both, and will make your happiness the chief object of -my existence." When she had listened to him thus far, of course she must -accept him; but he was by no means aware of that. She sat silent, with her -hands folded on her breast, looking down upon the ground; but he did not -as yet attempt to seat himself by her. "Lady Eustace," he continued, "may -I venture to entertain a hope?" - -"May I not have an hour to think of it," said Lizzie, just venturing to -turn a glance of her eye upon his face. - -"Oh, certainly. I will call again whenever you may bid me." - -Now she was silent for two or three minutes, during which he still stood -over her. But he had dropped his hand from his breast, and had stooped, -and picked up his hat ready for his departure. Was he to come again on -Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday? Let her tell him that and he would go. -He doubtless reflected that Wednesday would suit him best, because there -would be no House. But Lizzie was too magnanimous for this. "Lord Fawn," -she said, rising, "you have paid me the greatest compliment that a man can -pay a woman. Coming from you it is doubly precious; first, because of your -character; and secondly----" - -"Why secondly?" - -"Secondly, because I can love you." This was said in her lowest whisper, -and then she moved toward him gently, and almost laid her head upon his -breast. Of course he put his arm round her waist, but it was first -necessary that he should once more disembarrass himself of his hat, and -then her head was upon his breast. - -"Dearest Lizzie," he said. - -"Dearest Frederic," she murmured. - -"I shall write to my mother to-night," he said. - -"Do, do, dear Frederic." - -"And she will come to you at once, I am sure." - -"I will receive her and love her as a mother," said Lizzie, with all her -energy. Then he kissed her again, her forehead and her lips, and took his -leave, promising to be with her at any rate on Wednesday. - -"Lady Fawn!" she said to herself. The name did not sound so well as that -of Lady Eustace. But it is much to be a wife; and more to be a peeress. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -SHOWING WHAT THE MISS FAWNS SAID, AND WHAT MRS. HITTAWAY THOUGHT - - -In the way of duty Lord Fawn was a Hercules, not, indeed, "climbing trees -in the Hesperides," but achieving enterprises which to other men, if not -impossible, would have been so unpalatable as to have been put aside as -impracticable. On the Monday morning after he was accepted by Lady -Eustace, he was with his mother at Fawn Court before he went down to the -India Office. - -He had at least been very honest in the description he had given of his -own circumstances to the lady whom he intended to marry. He had told her -the exact truth; and though she, with all her cleverness, had not been -able to realise the facts when related to her so suddenly, still enough -had been said to make it quite clear that, when details of business should -hereafter be discussed in a less hurried manner, he would be able to say -that he had explained all his circumstances before he had made his offer. -And he had been careful, too, as to her affairs. He had ascertained that -her late husband had certainly settled upon her for life an estate worth -four thousand a year. He knew, also, that eight thousand pounds had been -left her, but of that he took no account. It might be probable that she -would have spent it. If any of it were left, it would be a godsend. Lord -Fawn thought a great deal about money. Being a poor man, filling a place -fit only for rich men, he had been driven to think of money, and had -become self-denying and parsimonious, perhaps we may say hungry and close- -fisted. Such a condition of character is the natural consequence of such a -position. There is, probably, no man who becomes naturally so hard in -regard to money as he who is bound to live among rich men, who is not rich -himself, and who is yet honest. The weight of the work of life in these -circumstances is so crushing, requires such continued thought, and makes -itself so continually felt, that the mind of the sufferer is never free -from the contamination of sixpences. Of such a one it is not fair to judge -as of other men with similar incomes. Lord Fawn had declared to his future -bride that he had half five thousand a year to spend, or the half, rather, -of such actual income as might be got in from an estate presumed to give -five thousand a year, and it may be said that an unmarried gentleman ought -not to be poor with such an income. But Lord Fawn unfortunately was a -lord, unfortunately was a landlord, unfortunately was an Irish landlord. -Let him be as careful as he might with his sixpences, his pounds would fly -from him, or, as might perhaps be better said, could not be made to fly to -him. He was very careful with his sixpences, and was always thinking, not -exactly how he might make two ends meet, but how to reconcile the -strictest personal economy with the proper bearing of an English nobleman. - -Such a man almost naturally looks to marriage as an assistance in the -dreary fight. It soon becomes clear to him that he cannot marry without -money, and he learns to think that heiresses have been invented exactly to -suit his taste. He is conscious of having been subjected to hardship by -Fortune, and regards female wealth as his legitimate mode of escape from -it. He has got himself, his position, and perhaps his title, to dispose -of, and they are surely worth so much per annum. As for giving anything -away, that is out of the question. He has not been so placed as to be able -to give. But, being an honest man, he will, if possible, make a fair -bargain. Lord Fawn was certainly an honest man, and he had been -endeavouring for the last six or seven years to make a fair bargain. But -then it is so hard to decide what is fair. Who is to tell a Lord Fawn how -much per annum he ought to regard himself as worth? He had, on one or two -occasions, asked a high price, but no previous bargain had been made. No -doubt he had come down a little in his demand in suggesting a matrimonial -arrangement to a widow with a child, and with only four thousand a year. -Whether or no that income was hers in perpetuity, or only for life, he had -not positively known when he made his offer. The will made by Sir Florian -Eustace did not refer to the property at all. In the natural course of -things, the widow would only have a life-interest in the income. Why -should Sir Florian make away, in perpetuity, with his family property? -Nevertheless, there had been a rumour abroad that Sir Florian had been -very generous; that the Scotch estate was to go to a second son in the -event of there being a second son; but that otherwise it was to be at the -widow's own disposal. No doubt, had Lord Fawn been persistent, he might -have found out the exact truth. He had, however, calculated that he could -afford to accept even the life-income. If more should come of it, so much -the better for him. He might, at any rate, so arrange the family matters -that his heir, should he have one, should not at his death be called upon -to pay something more than half the proceeds of the family property to his -mother, as was now done by himself. - -Lord Fawn breakfasted at Fawn Court on the Monday, and his mother sat at -the table with him, pouring out his tea. "Oh, Frederic," she said, "it is -so important!" - -"Just so; very important indeed. I should like you to call and see her -either to-day or to-morrow." - -"That's of course." - -"And you had better get her down here." - -"I don't know that she'll come. Ought I to ask the little boy?" - -"Certainly," said Lord Fawn, as he put a spoonful of egg into his mouth; -"certainly." - -"And Miss Macnulty?" - -"No; I don't see that at all. I'm not going to marry Miss Macnulty. The -child, of course, must be one of us." - -"And what is the income, Frederic?" - -"Four thousand a year. Something more nominally, but four thousand to -spend." - -"You are sure about that?" - -"Quite sure." - -"And for ever?" - -"I believe so. Of that I am not sure." - -"It makes a great difference, Frederic." - -"A very great difference indeed. I think it is her own. But at any rate -she is much younger than I am, and there need be no settlement out of my -property. That is the great thing. Don't you think she's--nice?" - -"She is very lovely." - -"And clever?" - -"Certainly very clever. I hope she is not self-willed, Frederic." - -"If she is, we must try and balance it," said Lord Fawn, with a little -smile. But in truth, he had thought nothing about any such quality as that -to which his mother now referred. The lady had an income. That was the -first and most indispensable consideration. She was fairly well-born, was -a lady, and was beautiful. In doing Lord Fawn justice, we must allow that, -in all his attempted matrimonial speculations, some amount of feminine -loveliness had been combined with feminine wealth. He had for two years -been a suitor of Violet Effingham, who was the acknowledged beauty of the -day--of Violet Effingham, who at the present time was the wife of Lord -Chiltern; and he had offered himself thrice to Madame Max Goesler, who was -reputed to be as rich as she was beautiful. In either case, the fortune -would have been greater than that which he would now win, and the money -would certainly have been for ever. But in these attempts he had failed; -and Lord Fawn was not a man to think himself ill-used because he did not -get the first good thing for which he asked. - -"I suppose I may tell the girls?" said Lady Fawn. - -"Yes, when I am gone. I must be off now, only I could not bear not to come -and see you." - -"It was so like you, Frederic." - -"And you'll go to-day?" - -"Yes, if you wish it--certainly." - -"Go up in the carriage, you know, and take one of the girls with you. I -would not take more than one. Augusta will be the best. You'll see Clara, -I suppose." Clara was the married sister, Mrs. Hittaway. - -"If you wish it." - -"She had better call too--say on Thursday. It's quite as well that it -should be known. I sha'n't choose to have more delay than can be avoided. -Well, I believe that's all." - -"I hope she'll be a good wife to you, Frederic." - -"I don't see why she shouldn't. Good-by, mother. Tell the girls I will see -them next Saturday." He didn't see why this woman he was about to marry -should not be a good wife to him! And yet he knew nothing about her, and -had not taken the slightest trouble to make inquiry. That she was pretty -he could see; that she was clever he could understand; that she lived in -Mount street was a fact; her parentage was known to him; that she was the -undoubted mistress of a large income was beyond dispute. But, for aught he -knew, she might be afflicted by every vice to which a woman can be -subject. In truth, she was afflicted by so many, that the addition of all -the others could hardly have made her worse than she was. She had never -sacrificed her beauty to a lover--she had never sacrificed anything to -anybody--nor did she drink. It would be difficult, perhaps, to say -anything else in her favour; and yet Lord Fawn was quite content to marry -her, not having seen any reason why she should not make a good wife! Nor -had Sir Florian seen any reason; but she had broken Sir Florian's heart. - -When the girls heard the news they were half frightened and half -delighted. Lady Fawn and her daughters lived very much out of the world. -They also were poor rich people--if such a term may be used--and did not -go much into society. There was a butler kept at Fawn Court, and a boy in -buttons, and two gardeners, and a man to look after the cows, and a -carriage and horses, and a fat coachman. There was a cook and a scullery -maid, and two lady's maids--who had to make the dresses--and two -housemaids and a dairy-maid. There was a large old brick house to be kept -in order, and handsome grounds with old trees. There was, as we know, a -governess, and there were seven unmarried daughters. With such -incumbrances, and an income altogether not exceeding three thousand pounds -per annum, Lady Fawn could not be rich. And yet who would say that an old -lady and her daughters could be poor with three thousand pounds a year to -spend? It may be taken almost as a rule by the unennobled ones of this -country, that the sudden possession of a title would at once raise the -price of every article consumed twenty per cent. Mutton that before cost -ninepence would cost tenpence a pound, and the mouths to be fed would -demand more meat. The chest of tea would run out quicker. The labourer's -work, which for the farmer is ten hours a day, for the squire nine, is for -the peer only eight. Miss Jones, when she becomes Lady de Jongh, does not -pay less than threepence apiece for each "my lady" with which her ear is -tickled. Even the baronet when he becomes a lord has to curtail his -purchases because of increased price, unless he be very wide awake to the -affairs of the world. Old Lady Fawn, who would not on any account have -owed a shilling which she could not pay, and who, in the midst of her -economies, was not close-fisted, knew very well what she could do and what -she could not. The old family carriage and the two lady's maids were -there, as necessaries of life; but London society was not within her -reach. It was, therefore, the case that they had not heard very much about -Lizzie Eustace. But they had heard something. "I hope she won't be too -fond of going out," said Amelia, the second girl. - -"Or extravagant," said Georgiana, the third. - -"There was some story of her being terribly in debt when she married Sir -Florian Eustace," said Diana, the fourth. - -"Frederic will be sure to see to that," said Augusta, the eldest. - -"She is very beautiful," said Lydia, the fifth. - -"And clever," said Cecilia, the sixth. - -"Beauty and cleverness won't made a good wife," said Amelia, who was the -wise one of the family. - -"Frederic will be sure to see that she doesn't go wrong," said Augusta, -who was not wise. - -Then Lucy Morris entered the room with Nina, the cadette of the family. -"Oh, Nina, what do you think?" said Lydia. - -"My dear!" said Lady Fawn, putting up her hand and stopping further -indiscreet speech. - -"Oh, mamma, what is it?" asked the cadette. - -"Surely Lucy may be told," said Lydia. - -"Well, yes; Lucy may be told certainly. There can be no reason why Lucy -should not know all that concerns our family; and the more so as she has -been for many years intimate with the lady. My dear, my son is going to be -married to Lady Eustace." - -"Lord Fawn going to marry Lizzie!" said Lucy Morris, in a tone which -certainly did not express unmingled satisfaction. - -"Unless you forbid the banns," said Diana. - -"Is there any reason why he should not?" said Lady Fawn. - -"Oh, no; only it seems so odd. I didn't know that they knew each other; -not well, that is. And then----" - -"Then what, my dear?" - -"It seems odd; that's all. It's all very nice, I dare say, and I'm sure I -hope they will be happy." Lady Fawn, however, was displeased, and did not -speak to Lucy again before she started with Augusta on the journey to -London. - -The carriage first stopped at the door of the married daughter in Warwick -Square. Now Mrs. Hittaway, whose husband was chairman of the Board of -Civil Appeals, and who was very well known at all Boards and among -official men generally, heard much more about things that were going on -than did her mother. And, having been emancipated from maternal control -for the last ten or twelve years, she could express herself before her -mother with more confidence than would have become the other girls. -"Mamma," she said, "you don't mean it!" - -"I do mean it, Clara. Why should I not mean it?" - -"She is the greatest vixen in all London." - -"Oh, Clara!" said Augusta. - -"And such a liar," said Mrs. Hittaway. - -There came a look of pain across Lady Fawn's face, for Lady Fawn believed -in her eldest daughter. But yet she intended to fight her ground on a -matter so important to her as was this. "There is no word in the English -language," she said, "which conveys to me so little of defined meaning as -that word vixen. If you can, tell me what you mean, Clara." - -"Stop it, mamma." - -"But why should I stop it, even if I could?" - -"You don't know her, mamma." - -"She has visited at Fawn Court more than once. She is a friend of Lucy's." - -"If she is a friend of Lucy Morris, mamma, Lucy Morris shall never come -here." - -"But what has she done? I have never heard that she has behaved -improperly. What does it all mean? She goes out everywhere. I don't think -she has had any lovers. Frederic would be the last man in the world to -throw himself away upon an ill-conditioned young woman." - -"Frederic can see just as far as some other men, and not a bit further. Of -course she has an income--for her life." - -"I believe it is her own altogether, Clara." - -"She says so, I don't doubt. I believe she is the greatest liar about -London. You find out about her jewels before she married poor Sir Florian, -and how much he had to pay for her. Or rather, I'll find out. If you want -to know, mamma, you just ask her own aunt, Lady Linlithgow." - -"We all know, my dear, that Lady Linlithgow quarrelled with her." - -"It's my belief that she is over head and ears in debt again. But I'll -learn. And when I have found out, I shall not scruple to tell Frederic. -Orlando will find out all about it." Orlando was the Christian name of -Mrs. Hittaway's husband. "Mr. Camperdown, I have no doubt, knows all the -ins and outs of her story. The long and the short of it is this, mamma, -that I've heard quite enough about Lady Eustace to feel certain that -Frederic would live to repent it." - -"But what can we do?" said Lady Fawn. - -"Break it off," said Mrs. Hittaway. - -Her daughter's violence of speech had a most depressing effect upon poor -Lady Fawn. As has been said, she did believe in Mrs. Hittaway. She knew -that Mrs. Hittaway was conversant with the things of the world, and heard -tidings daily which never found their way down to Fawn Court. And yet her -son went about quite as much as did her daughter. If Lady Eustace was such -a reprobate as was now represented, why had not Lord Fawn heard the truth? -And then she had already given in her own adhesion, and had promised to -call. "Do you mean that you won't go to her?" said Lady Fawn. - -"As Lady Eustace? certainly not. If Frederic does marry her, of course I -must know her. That's a different thing. One has to make the best one can -of a bad bargain. I don't doubt they'd be separated before two years were -over." - -"Oh, dear, how dreadful!" exclaimed Augusta. Lady Fawn, after much -consideration, was of opinion that she must carry out her intention of -calling upon her son's intended bride in spite of all the evil things that -had been said. Lord Fawn had undertaken to send a message to Mount street, -informing the lady of the honour intended for her. And in truth Lady Fawn -was somewhat curious now to see the household of the woman who might -perhaps do her the irreparable injury of ruining the happiness of her only -son. Perhaps she might learn something by looking at the woman in her own -drawing-room. At any rate she would go. But Mrs. Hittaway's words had the -effect of inducing her to leave Augusta where she was. If there were -contamination, why should Augusta be contaminated? Poor Augusta! She had -looked forward to the delight of embracing her future sister-in-law; and -would not have enjoyed it the less, perhaps, because she had been told -that the lady was false, profligate, and a vixen. As, however, her -position was that of a girl, she was bound to be obedient, though over -thirty years old, and she obeyed. - -Lizzie was of course at home, and Miss Macnulty was of course visiting the -Horticultural gardens or otherwise engaged. On such an occasion Lizzie -would certainly be alone. She had taken great pains with her dress, -studying not so much her own appearance as the character of her visitor. -She was very anxious, at any rate for the present, to win golden opinions -from Lady Fawn. She was dressed richly, but very simply. Everything about -her room betokened wealth; but she had put away the French novels, and had -placed a Bible on a little table, not quite hidden, behind her own seat. -The long lustrous lock was tucked up, but the diamonds were still upon her -fingers. She fully intended to make a conquest of her future mother-in-law -and sister-in-law; for the note which had come up to her from the India -Office had told her that Augusta would accompany Lady Fawn. "Augusta is my -favourite sister," said the enamoured lover, "and I hope that you two will -always be friends." Lizzie, when she had read this, had declared to -herself that of all the female oafs she had ever seen, Augusta Fawn was -the greatest oaf. When she found that Lady Fawn was alone, she did not -betray herself, or ask for the beloved friend of the future. "Dear, dear -Lady Fawn," she said, throwing herself into the arms and nestling herself -against the bosom of the old lady, "this makes my happiness perfect." Then -she retreated a little, still holding the hand she had grasped between her -own, and looking up into the face of her future mother-in-law. "When he -asked me to be his wife, the first thing I thought of was whether you -would come to me at once." Her voice as she thus spoke was perfect. Her -manner was almost perfect. Perhaps there was a little too much of gesture, -too much gliding motion, too violent an appeal with the eyes, too close a -pressure of the hand. No suspicion, however, of all this would have -touched Lady Fawn had she come to Mount street without calling in Warwick -Square on the way. But those horrible words of her daughter were ringing -in her ears, and she did not know how to conduct herself. - -"Of course I came as soon as he told me," she said. - -"And you will be a mother to me?" demanded Lizzie. - -Poor Lady Fawn! There was enough of maternity about her to have enabled -her to undertake the duty for a dozen sons' wives--if the wives were women -with whom she could feel sympathy. And she could feel sympathy very -easily, and she was a woman not at all prone to inquire too curiously as -to the merits of a son's wife. But what was she to do after the caution -she had received from Mrs. Hittaway? How was she to promise maternal -tenderness to a vixen and a liar? By nature she was not a deceitful woman. -"My dear," she said, "I hope you will make him a good wife." - -It was not very encouraging, but Lizzie made the best of it. It was her -desire to cheat Lady Fawn into a good opinion, and she was not -disappointed when no good opinion was expressed at once. It is seldom that -a bad person expects to be accounted good. It is the general desire of -such a one to conquer the existing evil impression; but it is generally -presumed that the evil impression is there. "Oh, Lady Fawn!" she said, "I -will so strive to make him happy. What is it that he likes? What would he -wish me to do and to be? You know his noble nature, and I must look to you -for guidance." - -Lady Fawn was embarrassed. She had now seated herself on the sofa, and -Lizzie was close to her, almost enveloped within her mantle. "My dear," -said Lady Fawn, "if you will endeavour to do your duty by him, I am sure -he will do his by you." - -"I know it. I am sure of it. And I will; I will. You will let me love you, -and call you mother?" A peculiar perfume came up from Lizzie's hair which -Lady Fawn did not like. Her own girls, perhaps, were not given to the use -of much perfumery. She shifted her seat a little, and Lizzie was compelled -to sit upright, and without support. Hitherto Lady Fawn had said very -little, and Lizzie's part was one difficult to play. She had heard of that -sermon read every Sunday evening at Fawn Court, and she believed that Lady -Fawn was peculiarly religious. "There," she said, stretching out her hand -backwards and clasping the book which lay upon the small table; "there, -that shall be my guide. That will teach me how to do my duty by my noble -husband." - -Lady Fawn in some surprise took the book from Lizzie's hand, and found -that it was the Bible. "You certainly can't do better, my dear, than read -your Bible," said Lady Fawn; but there was more of censure than of eulogy -in the tone of her voice. She put the Bible down very quietly, and asked -Lady Eustace when it would suit her to come down to Fawn Court. Lady Fawn -had promised her son to give the invitation, and could not now, she -thought, avoid giving it. - -"Oh, I should like it so much!" said Lizzie. "Whenever it will suit you, I -will be there at a minute's notice." It was then arranged that she should -be at Fawn Court on that day week, and stay for a fortnight. "Of all -things that which I most desire now," said Lizzie, "is to know you and the -dear girls, and to be loved by you all." - -Lady Eustace, as soon as she was alone in the room, stood in the middle of -it, scowling--for she could scowl. "I'll not go near them," she said to -herself; "nasty, stupid, dull, puritanical drones. If he don't like it, he -may lump it. After all, it's no such great catch." Then she sat down to -reflect whether it was or was not a catch. As soon as ever Lord Fawn had -left her after the engagement was made, she had begun to tell herself that -he was a poor creature, and that she had done wrong. "Only five thousand a -year!" she said to herself; for she had not perfectly understood that -little explanation which he had given respecting his income. "It's nothing -for a lord." And now again she murmured to herself, "It's my money he's -after. He'll find out that I know how to keep what I have got in my own -hands." - -Now that Lady Fawn had been cold to her, she thought still less of the -proposed marriage. But there was this inducement for her to go on with it. -If they, the Fawn women, thought that they could break it off, she would -let them know that they had no such power. - -"Well, mamma, you've seen her?" said Mrs. Hittaway. - -"Yes, my dear; I've seen her. I had seen her two or three times before, -you know." - -"And you are still in love with her?" - -"I never said that I was in love with her, Clara." - -"And what has been fixed?" - -"She is to come down to Fawn Court next week, and stay a fortnight with -us. Then we shall find out what she is." - -"That will be best, mamma," said Augusta. - -"Mind, mamma; you understand me. I shall tell Frederic plainly just what I -think. Of course he will be offended, and if the marriage goes on, the -offence will remain--till he finds out the truth." - -"I hope he'll find out no such truth," said Lady Fawn. She was, however, -quite unable to say a word in behalf of her future daughter-in-law. She -said nothing as to that little scene with the Bible, but she never forgot -it. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -LIZZIE AND HER LOVER - - -During the remainder of that Monday and all the Tuesday, Lizzie's mind -was, upon the whole, averse to matrimony. She had told Miss Macnulty of -her prospects, with some amount of exultation; and the poor dependent, -though she knew that she must be turned out into the street, had -congratulated her patroness. "The vulturess will take you in again, when -she knows you've nowhere else to go to," Lizzie had said, displaying -indeed some accurate discernment of her aunt's character. But after Lady -Fawn's visit she spoke of the marriage in a different tone. "Of course, my -dear, I shall have to look very close after the settlement." - -"I suppose the lawyers will do that," said Miss Macnulty. - -"Yes; lawyers! That's all very well. I know what lawyers are. I'm not -going to trust any lawyer to give away my property. Of course we shall -live at Portray, because his place is in Ireland, and nothing shall take -me to Ireland. I told him that from the very first. But I don't mean to -give up my own income. I don't suppose he'll venture to suggest such a -thing." And then again she grumbled. "It's all very well being in the -Cabinet----!" - -"Is Lord Fawn in the Cabinet?" asked Miss Macnulty, who in such matters -was not altogether ignorant. - -"Of course he is," said Lizzie, with an angry gesture. It may seem unjust -to accuse her of being stupidly unacquainted with circumstances, and a -liar at the same time; but she was both. She said that Lord Fawn was in -the Cabinet because she had heard some one speak of him as not being a -Cabinet Minister, and in so speaking appear to slight his political -position. Lizzie did not know how much her companion knew, and Miss -Macnulty did not comprehend the depth of the ignorance of her patroness. -Thus the lies which Lizzie told were amazing to Miss Macnulty. To say that -Lord Fawn was in the Cabinet, when all the world knew that he was an -Under-Secretary! What good could a woman get from an assertion so plainly, -so manifestly false? But Lizzie knew nothing of Under-Secretaries. Lord -Fawn was a lord, and even commoners were in the Cabinet. "Of course he -is," said Lizzie; "but I sha'n't have my drawing-room made a Cabinet. They -sha'n't come here." And then again on the Tuesday evening she displayed -her independence. "As for those women down at Richmond, I don't mean to be -overrun by them, I can tell you. I said I would go there, and of course I -shall keep my word." - -"I think you had better go," said Miss Macnulty. - -"Of course, I shall go. I don't want anybody to tell me where I'm to go, -my dear, and where I'm not. But it'll be about the first and the last. And -as for bringing those dowdy girls out in London, it's the last thing I -shall think of doing. Indeed, I doubt whether they can afford to dress -themselves." As she went up to bed on the Tuesday evening, Miss Macnulty -doubted whether the match would go on. She never believed her friend's -statements; but if spoken words might be supposed to mean anything, Lady -Eustace's words on that Tuesday betokened a strong dislike to everything -appertaining to the Fawn family. She had even ridiculed Lord Fawn himself, -declaring that he understood nothing about anything beyond his office. - -And, in truth, Lizzie had almost made up her mind to break it off. All -that she would gain did not seem to weigh down with sufficient -preponderance all that she would lose. Such were her feelings on the -Tuesday night. But on the Wednesday morning she received a note which -threw her back violently upon the Fawn interest. The note was as follows: - -"Messrs. Camperdown and Son present their compliments to Lady Eustace. -They have received instructions to proceed by law for the recovery of the -Eustace diamonds, now in Lady Eustace's hands, and will feel obliged to -Lady Eustace if she will communicate to them the name and address of her -attorney. - -"62 NEW SQUARE, 30 MAY, 186-." - -The effect of this note was to drive Lizzie back upon the Fawn interest. -She was frightened about the diamonds, and was, nevertheless, almost -determined not to surrender them. At any rate, in such a strait she would -want assistance, either in keeping them or in giving them up. The lawyer's -letter afflicted her with a sense of weakness, and there was strength in -the Fawn connection. As Lord Fawn was so poor, perhaps he would adhere to -the jewels. She knew that she could not fight Mr. Camperdown with no other -assistance than what Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus might give her, and therefore -her heart softened toward her betrothed. "I suppose Frederic will be here -to-day," she said to Miss Macnulty, as they sat at breakfast together -about noon. Miss Macnulty nodded. "You can have a cab, you know, if you -like to go anywhere." Miss Macnulty said she thought she would go to the -National Gallery. "And you can walk back, you know," said Lizzie. - -"I can walk there and back, too," said Miss Macnulty, in regard to whom it -may be said that the last ounce would sometimes almost break the horse's -back. - -"Frederic" came, and was received very graciously. Lizzie had placed Mr. -Camperdown's note on the little table behind her, beneath the Bible, so -that she might put her hand upon it at once if she could make an -opportunity of showing it to her future husband. "Frederic" sat himself -beside her, and the intercourse for a while was such as might be looked -for between two lovers of whom one was a widow and the other an -Undersecretary of State from the India Office. They were loving, but -discreetly amatory, talking chiefly of things material, each flattering -the other, and each hinting now and again at certain little circumstances -of which a more accurate knowledge seemed to be desirable. The one was -conversant with things in general, but was slow; the other was quick as a -lizard in turning hither and thither, but knew almost nothing. When she -told Lord Fawn that the Ayrshire estate was "her own, to do what she liked -with," she did not know that he would certainly find out the truth from -other sources before he married her. Indeed, she was not quite sure -herself whether the statement was true or false, though she would not have -made it so frequently had her idea of the truth been a fixed idea. It had -all been explained to her; but there had been something about a second -son, and there was no second son. Perhaps she might have a second son yet, -a future little Lord Fawn, and he might inherit it. In regard to honesty, -the man was superior to the woman, because his purpose was declared, and -he told no lies; but the one was as mercenary as the other. It was not -love that had brought Lord Fawn to Mount Street. - -"What is the name of your place in Ireland?" she asked. - -"There is no house, you know." - -"But there was one, Frederic?" - -"The town-land where the house used to be is called Killeagent. The old -demesne is called Killaud." - -"What pretty names! and--and--does it go a great many miles?" Lord Fawn -explained that it did run a good many miles up into the mountains. "How -beautifully romantic!" said Lizzie. "But the people live on the mountain -and pay rent?" - -Lord Fawn asked no such inept questions respecting the Ayrshire property, -but he did inquire who was Lizzie's solicitor. "Of course there will be -things to be settled," he said, "and my lawyer had better see yours. Mr. -Camperdown is a----" - -"Mr. Camperdown!" almost shrieked Lizzie. Lord Fawn then explained, with -some amazement, that Mr. Camperdown was his lawyer. As far as his belief -went, there was not a more respectable gentleman in the profession. Then -he inquired whether Lizzie had any objection to Mr. Camperdown. "Mr. -Camperdown was Sir Florian's lawyer," said Lizzie. - -"That will make it all the easier, I should think," said Lord Fawn. - -"I don't know how that may be," said Lizzie, trying to bring her mind to -work upon the subject steadily. "Mr. Camperdown has been very uncourteous -to me; I must say that; and, as I think, unfair. He wishes to rob me now -of a thing that is quite my own." - -"What sort of a thing?" asked Lord Fawn slowly. - -"A very valuable thing. I'll tell you all about it, Frederic. Of course -I'll tell you everything now. I never could keep back anything from one -that I loved. It's not my nature. There; you might as well read that -note." Then she put her hand back and brought Mr. Camperdown's letter from -under the Bible. Lord Fawn read it very attentively, and as he read it -there came upon him a great doubt. What sort of woman was this to whom he -had engaged himself because she was possessed of an income? That Mr. -Camperdown should be in the wrong in such a matter was an idea which never -occurred to Lord Fawn. There is no form of belief stronger than that which -the ordinary English gentleman has in the discretion and honesty of his -own family lawyer. What his lawyer tells him to do he does. What his -lawyer tells him to sign he signs. He buys and sells in obedience to the -same direction, and feels perfectly comfortable in the possession of a -guide who is responsible and all but divine. - -"What diamonds are they?" asked Lord Fawn in a very low voice. - -"They are my own--altogether my own. Sir Florian gave them to me. When he -put them into my hands he said that they were to be my own for ever and -ever. 'There,' said he, 'those are yours to do what you choose with them.' -After that they oughtn't to ask me to give them back, ought they? If you -had been married before, and your wife had given you a keepsake, to keep -for ever and ever, would you give it up to a lawyer? You would not like -it, would you, Frederic?" She had put her hand on his and was looking up -into his face as she asked the question. Again, perhaps, the acting was a -little overdone; but there were the tears in her eyes, and the tone of her -voice was perfect. - -"Mr. Camperdown calls them Eustace diamonds--family diamonds," said Lord -Fawn. "What do they consist of? What are they worth?" - -"I'll show them to you," said Lizzie, jumping up and hurrying out of the -room. Lord Fawn, when he was alone, rubbed his hands over his eyes and -thought about it all. It would be a very harsh measure on the part of the -Eustace family and of Mr. Camperdown to demand from her the surrender of -any trinket which her late husband might have given her in the manner she -had described. But it was, to his thinking, most improbable that the -Eustace people or the lawyer should be harsh to a widow bearing the -Eustace name. The Eustaces were by disposition lavish, and old Mr. -Camperdown was not one who would be strict in claiming little things for -rich clients. And yet here was his letter, threatening the widow of the -late baronet with legal proceedings for the recovery of jewels which had -been given by Sir Florian himself to his wife as a keepsake! Perhaps Sir -Florian had made some mistake, and had caused to be set in a ring or -brooch for his bride some jewel which he had thought to be his own, but -which had, in truth, been an heirloom. If so, the jewel should, of course, -be surrendered, or replaced by one of equal value. He was making out some -such solution, when Lizzie returned with the morocco case in her hand. "It -was the manner in which he gave it to me," said Lizzie, as she opened the -clasp, "which makes its value to me." - -Lord Fawn knew nothing about jewels, but even he knew that if the circle -of stones which he saw, with a Maltese cross appended to it, was -constituted of real diamonds, the thing must be of great value. And it -occurred to him at once that such a necklace is not given by a husband -even to a bride in the manner described by Lizzie. A ring, or brooch, or -perhaps a bracelet, a lover or a loving lord may bring in his pocket. But -such an ornament as this on which Lord Fawn was now looking is given in -another sort of way. He felt sure that it was so, even though he was -entirely ignorant of the value of the stones. "Do you know what it is -worth?" he asked. - -Lizzie hesitated a moment and then remembered that "Frederic," in his -present position in regard to herself, might be glad to assist her in -maintaining the possession of a substantial property. "I think they say -its value is about--ten thousand pounds," she replied. - -"Ten--thousand--pounds!" Lord Fawn riveted his eyes upon them. - -"That's what I am told--by a jeweller." - -"By what jeweller?" - -"A man had to come and see them, about some repairs, or something of that -kind. Poor Sir Florian wished it. And he said so." - -"What was the man's name?" - -"I forget his name," said Lizzie, who was not quite sure whether her -acquaintance with Mr. Benjamin would be considered respectable. - -"Ten thousand pounds! You don't keep them in the house, do you?" - -"I have an iron case up-stairs for them, ever so heavy." - -"And did Sir Florian give you the iron case?" Lizzie hesitated for a -moment. "Yes," said she. "That is--no. But he ordered it to be made; and -then it came, after he was--dead." - -"He knew their value, then." - -"Oh dear, yes. Though he never named any sum. He told me, however, that -they were very--very valuable." - -Lord Fawn did not immediately recognise the falseness of every word that -the woman said to him, because he was slow and could not think and hear at -the same time. But he was at once involved in a painful maze of doubt and -almost of dismay. An action for the recovery of jewels brought against the -lady whom he was engaged to marry, on behalf of the family of her late -husband, would not suit him at all. To have his hands quite clean, to be -above all evil report, to be respectable, as it were, all round, was Lord -Fawn's special ambition. He was a poor man, and a greedy man, but he would -have abandoned his official salary at a moment's notice, rather than there -should have fallen on him a breath of public opinion hinting that it ought -to be abandoned. He was especially timid, and lived in a perpetual fear -least the newspapers should say something hard of him. In that matter of -the Sawab he had been very wretched, because Frank Greystock had accused -him of being an administrator of tyranny. He would have liked his wife to -have ten thousand pounds' worth of diamonds very well; but he would rather -go without a wife forever--and without a wife's fortune--than marry a -woman subject to an action for claiming diamonds not her own. "I think," -said he at last, "that if you were to put them into Mr. Camperdown's -hands--" - -"Into Mr. Camperdown's hands!" - -"And then let the matter be settled by arbitration----" - -"Arbitration? That means going to law?" - -"No, dearest; that means not going to law. The diamonds would be intrusted -to Mr. Camperdown; and then some one would be appointed to decide whose -property they were." - -"They're my property," said Lizzie. - -"But he says they belong to the family." - -"He'll say anything," said Lizzie. - -"My dearest girl, there can't be a more respectable man than Mr. -Camperdown. You must do something of the kind, you know." - -"I sha'n't do anything of the kind," said Lizzie. "Sir Florian Eustace -gave them to me, and I shall keep them." She did not look at her lover as -she spoke; but he looked at her, and did not like the change which he saw -on her countenance. And he did not like the circumstances in which he -found himself placed. "Why should Mr. Camperdown interfere?" continued -Lizzie. "If they don't belong to me, they belong to my son; and who has so -good a right to keep them for him as I have? But they belong to me." - -"They should not be kept in a private house like this at all, if they are -worth all that money." - -"If I were to let them go, Mr. Camperdown would get them. There's nothing -he wouldn't do to get them. Oh, Frederic, I hope you'll stand to me, and -not see me injured. Of course I only want them for my darling child." - -Frederic's face had become very long, and he was much disturbed in his -mind. He could only suggest that he himself would go and see Mr. -Camperdown and ascertain what ought to be done. To the last he adhered to -his assurance that Mr. Camperdown could do no evil; till Lizzie, in her -wrath, asked him whether he believed Mr. Camperdown's word before hers. "I -think he would understand a matter of business better than you," said the -prudent lover. - -"He wants to rob me," said Lizzie, "and I shall look to you to prevent -it." - -When Lord Fawn took his leave, which he did not do till he had counselled -her again and again to leave the matter in Mr. Camperdown's hands, the two -were not in good accord together. It was his fixed purpose, as he declared -to her, to see Mr. Camperdown; and it was her fixed purpose, so at least -she declared to him, to keep the diamonds, in spite of Mr. Camperdown. -"But, my dear, if it's decided against you," said Lord Fawn gravely. - -"It can't be decided against me, if you stand by me as you ought to do." - -"I can do nothing," said Lord Fawn, in a tremor. Then Lizzie looked at -him, and her look, which was very eloquent, called him a poltroon as plain -as a look could speak. Then they parted, and the signs of affection -between them were not satisfactory. - -The door was hardly closed behind him before Lizzie began to declare to -herself that he shouldn't escape her. It was not yet twenty-four hours -since she had been telling herself that she did not like the engagement -and would break it off; and now she was stamping her little feet, and -clenching her little hands, and swearing to herself by all her gods that -this wretched, timid lordling should not get out of her net. She did, in -truth, despise him because he would not clutch the jewels. She looked upon -him as mean and paltry because he was willing to submit to Mr. Camperdown. -But, yet, she was prompted to demand all that could be demanded from her -engagement, because she thought that she perceived a something in him -which might produce in him a desire to be relieved from it. No! He should -not be relieved. He should marry her. And she would keep the key of that -iron box with the diamonds, and he should find what sort of a noise she -would make if he attempted to take it from her. She closed the morocco -case, ascended with it to her bedroom, locked it up in the iron safe, -deposited the little patent key in its usual place round her neck, and -then seated herself at her desk, and wrote letters to her various friends, -making known to them her engagement. Hitherto she had told no one but Miss -Macnulty, and, in her doubts, had gone so far as to desire Miss Macnulty -not to mention it. Now she was resolved to blazon forth her engagement -before all the world. - -The first "friend" to whom she wrote was Lady Linlithgow. The reader shall -see two or three of her letters, and that to the countess shall be the -first: - -"MY DEAR AUNT: When you came to see me the other day, I cannot say that -you were very kind to me, and I don't suppose you care very much what -becomes of me. But I think it right to let you know that I am going to be -married. I am engaged to Lord Fawn, who, as you know, is a peer, and a -member of Her Majesty's Government, and a nobleman of great influence. I -do not suppose that even you can say anything against such an alliance. - -"I am your affectionate niece, - -"ELI. EUSTACE." - -Then she wrote to Mrs. Eustace, the wife of the Bishop of Bobsborough. -Mrs. Eustace had been very kind to her in the first days of her widowhood, -and had fully recognised her as the widow of the head of her husband's -family. Lizzie had liked none of the Bobsborough people. They were, -according to her ideas, slow, respectable, and dull. But they had not -found much open fault with her, and she was aware that it was for her -interest to remain on good terms with them. Her letter, therefore, to Mrs. -Eustace was somewhat less acrid than that written to her Aunt Linlithgow: - -"MY DEAR MRS. EUSTACE: I hope you will be glad to hear from me, and will -not be sorry to hear my news. I am going to be married again. Of course I -am not about to take a step which is in every way so very important -without thinking about it a great deal. But I am sure it will be better -for my darling little Florian in every way; and as for myself, I have felt -for the last two years how unfitted I have been to manage everything -myself. I have therefore accepted an offer made to me by Lord Fawn, who -is, as you know, a peer of Parliament, and a most distinguished member of -Her Majesty's Government; and he is, too, a nobleman of very great -influence in every respect, and has a property in Ireland, extending over -ever so many miles, and running up into the mountains. His mansion there -is called Killmage, but I am not sure that I remember the name quite -rightly. I hope I may see you there some day, and the dear bishop. I look -forward with delight to doing something to make those dear Irish happier. -The idea of rambling up into our own mountains charms me, for nothing -suits my disposition so well as that kind of solitude. - -"Of course Lord Fawn is not so rich a man as Sir Florian, but I have never -looked to riches for my happiness. Not but what Lord Fawn has a good -income from his Irish estates; and then, of course, he is paid for doing -Her Majesty's Government; so there is no fear that he will have to live -upon my jointure, which, of course, would not be right. Pray tell the dear -bishop and dear Margaretta all this, with my love. You will be happy, I -know, to hear that my little Flo is quite well. He is already so fond of -his new papa!" [Lizzie's turn for lying was exemplified in this last -statement, for, as it happened, Lord Fawn had never yet seen the child.] - -"Believe me to be always - -"Your most affectionate niece, - -"ELI. EUSTACE." - -There were two other letters--one to her uncle, the dean, and the other to -her cousin Frank. There was great doubt in her mind as to the expediency -of writing to Frank Greystock; but at last she decided that she would do -it. The letter to the dean need not be given in full, as it was very -similar to that written to the bishop's wife. The same mention was made of -her intended husband's peerage, and the same allusion to Her Majesty's -Government--a phrase which she had heard from Lord Fawn himself. She spoke -of the Irish property, but in terms less glowing than she had used in -writing to the lady, and ended by asking for her uncle's congratulation-- -and blessing. Her letter to Frank was as follows, and, doubtless, as she -wrote it, there was present to her mind a remembrance of the fact that he -himself might have offered to her, and have had her if he would: - -"MY DEAR COUSIN: As I would rather that you should hear my news from -myself than from any one else, I write to tell you that I am going to be -married to Lord Fawn. Of course I know that there are certain matters as -to which you and Lord Fawn do not agree--in politics, I mean; but still I -do not doubt but you will think that he is quite able to take care of your -poor little cousin. It was only settled a day or two since, but it has -been coming on ever so long. You understand all about that, don't you? Of -course you must come to my wedding, and be very good to me--a kind of -brother, you know; for we have always been friends, haven't we? And if the -dean doesn't come up to town, you must give me away. And you must come and -see me ever so often; for I have a sort of feeling that I have no one else -belonging to me that I can call really my own, except you. And you must be -great friends with Lord Fawn, and must give up saying that he doesn't do -his work properly. Of course he does everything better than anybody else -could possibly do it, except Cousin Frank. - -"I am going down next week to Richmond. Lady Fawn has insisted on my -staying there for a fortnight. Oh dear, what shall I do all the time? You -must positively come down and see me, and see somebody else too. Only you, -naughty coz, you mustn't break a poor girl's heart. - -"Your affectionate cousin, - -"ELI. EUSTACE." - -Somebody, in speaking on Lady Eustace's behalf, and making the best of her -virtues, had declared that she did not have lovers. Hitherto that had been -true of her; but her mind had not the less dwelt on the delight of a -lover. She still thought of a possible Corsair who would be willing to -give up all but his vices for her love, and for whose sake she would be -willing to share even them. It was but a dream, but nevertheless it -pervaded her fancy constantly. Lord Fawn, peer of Parliament, and member -of Her Majesty's Government, as he was, could not have been such a lover -to her. Might it not be possible that there should exist something of -romance between her and her cousin Frank? She was the last woman in the -world to run away with a man, or to endanger her position by a serious -indiscretion; but there might perhaps be a something between her and her -cousin, a liaison quite correct in its facts, a secret understanding, if -nothing more, a mutual sympathy, which should be chiefly shown in the -abuse of all their friends; and in this she could indulge her passion for -romance and poetry. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -LORD FAWN AT HIS OFFICE - - -The news was soon all about London, as Lizzie had intended. She had made a -sudden resolve that Lord Fawn should not escape her, and she had gone to -work after the fashion we have seen. Frank Greystock had told John -Eustace, and John Eustace had told Mr. Camperdown before Lord Fawn -himself, in the slow prosecution of his purpose, had consulted the lawyer -about the necklace. "God bless my soul; Lord Fawn!" the old lawyer had -said when the news was communicated to him. "Well, yes; he wants money. I -don't envy him; that's all. We shall get the diamonds now, John. Lord Fawn -isn't the man to let his wife keep what doesn't belong to her." Then, -after a day or two, Lord Fawn had himself gone to Mr. Camperdown's -chambers. "I believe I am to congratulate you, my lord," said the lawyer. -"I'm told you are going to marry--well, I mustn't really say another of my -clients, but the widow of one of them. Lady Eustace is a very beautiful -woman, and she has a very pretty income too. She has the whole of the -Scotch property for her life." - -"It's only for her life, I suppose?" said Lord Fawn. - -"Oh, no, no; of course not. There's been some mistake on her part; at -least, so I've been told. Women never understand. It's all as clear as -daylight. Had there been a second son, the second son would have had it. -As it is, it goes with the rest of the property, just as it ought to do, -you know. Four thousand a year isn't so bad, you know, considering that -she isn't more than a girl yet, and that she hadn't sixpence of her own. -When the admiral died, there wasn't sixpence, Lord Fawn." - -"So I have heard." - -"Not sixpence. It's all Eustace money. She had six or eight thousand -pounds, or something like that, besides. She's as lovely a young widow as -I ever saw, and very clever." - -"Yes, she is clever." - -"By-the-by, Lord Fawn, as you have done me the honour of calling, there's -a stupid mistake about some family diamonds." - -"It is in respect to them that I've come," said Lord Fawn. Then Mr. -Camperdown, in his easy, off-hand way, imputing no blame to the lady in -the hearing of her future husband, and declaring his opinion that she was -doubtless unaware of its value, explained the matter of the necklace. Lord -Fawn listened, but said very little. He especially did not say that Lady -Eustace had had the stones valued. "They're real, I suppose?" he asked. -Mr. Camperdown assured him that no diamonds more real had ever come from -Golconda, or passed through Mr. Garnett's hands. - -"They are as well known as any family diamonds in England," said Mr. -Camperdown. "She has got into bad hands," continued Mr. Camperdown. -"Mowbray & Mopus; horrible people; sharks, that make one blush for one's -profession, and I was really afraid there would have been trouble. But, of -course, it'll be all right now; and if she'll only come to me, tell her -I'll do everything I can to make things straight and comfortable for her. -If she likes to have another lawyer, of course, that's all right. Only -make her understand who Mowbray & Mopus are. It's quite out of the -question, Lord Fawn, that your wife should have anything to do with -Mowbray & Mopus." Every word that Mr. Camperdown said was gospel to Lord -Fawn. - -And yet, as the reader will understand, Mr. Camperdown had by no means -expressed his real opinion in this interview. He had spoken of the widow -in friendly terms, declaring that she was simply mistaken in her ideas as -to the duration of her interest in the Scotch property, and mistaken again -about the diamonds; whereas in truth he regarded her as a dishonest, -lying, evil-minded harpy. Had Lord Fawn consulted him simply as a client, -and not have come to him an engaged lover, he would have expressed his -opinion quite frankly; but it is not the business of a lawyer to tell his -client evil things of the lady whom that client is engaged to marry. In -regard to the property he spoke the truth, and he spoke what he believed -to be the truth when he said that the whole thing would no doubt now be -easily arranged. When Lord Fawn took his leave, Mr. Camperdown again -declared to himself that as regarded money the match was very well for his -lordship; but that, as regarded the woman, Lizzie was dear at the price. -"Perhaps he doesn't mind it," said Mr. Camperdown to himself, "but I -wouldn't marry such a woman myself, though she owned all Scotland." - -There had been much in the interview to make Lord Fawn unhappy. In the -first place, that golden hope as to the perpetuity of the property was at -an end. He had never believed that it was so; but a man may hope without -believing. And he was quite sure that Lizzie was bound to give up the -diamonds, and would ultimately be made to give them up. Of any property in -them, as possibly accruing to himself, he had not thought much; but he -could not abstain from thinking of the woman's grasp upon them. Mr. -Camperdown's plain statement, which was gospel to him, was directly at -variance with Lizzie's story. Sir Florian certainly would not have given -such diamonds in such a way. Sir Florian would not have ordered a separate -iron safe for them, with a view that they might be secure in his wife's -bedroom. And then she had had them valued, and manifestly was always -thinking of her treasure. It was very well for a poor, careful peer to be -always thinking of his money, but Lord Fawn was well aware that a young -woman such as Lady Eustace should have her thoughts elsewhere. As he sat -signing letters at the India Board, relieving himself when he was left -alone between each batch by standing up with his back to the fireplace, -his mind was full of all this. He could not unravel truth quickly, but he -could grasp it when it came to him. She was certainly greedy, false, and -dishonest. And--worse than all this--she had dared to tell him to his face -that he was a poor creature because he would not support her in her greed, -and falsehood, and dishonesty! Nevertheless, he was engaged to marry her! -Then he thought of one Violet Effingham whom he had loved, and then came -over him some suspicion of a fear that he himself was hard and selfish. -And yet what was such a one as he to do? It was of course necessary for -the maintenance of the very constitution of his country that there should -be future Lord Fawns. There could be no future Lord Fawns unless he -married; and how could he marry without money? "A peasant can marry whom -he pleases," said Lord Fawn, pressing his hand to his brow, and dropping -one flap of his coat, as he thought of his own high and perilous destiny, -standing with his back to the fireplace, while a huge pile of letters lay -there before him waiting to be signed. - -It was a Saturday evening, and as there was no House there was nothing to -hurry him away from the office. He was the occupier for the time of a -large, well-furnished official room, looking out into St. James's Park; -and as he glanced round it he told himself that his own happiness must be -there, and not in the domesticity of a quiet home. The House of Lords, out -of which nobody could turn him, and official life--as long as he could -hold to it--must be all in all to him. He had engaged himself to this -woman, and he must--marry her. He did not think that he could now see any -way of avoiding that event. Her income would supply the needs of her home, -and then there might probably be a continuation of Lord Fawns. The world -might have done better for him--had he been able to find favour in Violet -Effingham's sight. He was a man capable of love, and very capable of -constancy to a woman true to him. Then he wiped away a tear as he sat down -to sign the huge batch of letters. As he read some special letter in which -instructions were conveyed as to the insufficiency of the Sawab's claims, -he thought of Frank Greystock's attack upon him, and of Frank Greystock's -cousin. There had been a time in which he had feared that the two cousins -would become man and wife. At this moment he uttered a malediction against -the member for Bobsborough, which might perhaps have been spared had the -member been now willing to take the lady off his hands. Then the door was -opened, and the messenger told him that Mrs. Hittaway was in the waiting- -room. Mrs. Hittaway was, of course, at once made welcome to the Under- -Secretary's own apartment. - -Mrs. Hittaway was a strong-minded woman--the strongest-minded probably of -the Fawn family--but she had now come upon a task which taxed all her -strength to the utmost. She had told her mother that she would tell -"Frederic" what she thought about his proposed bride, and she had now come -to carry out her threat. She had asked her brother to come and dine with -her, but he had declined. His engagements hardly admitted of his dining -with his relatives. She had called upon him at the rooms he occupied in -Victoria Street, but of course she had not found him. She could not very -well go to his club; so now she had hunted him down at his office. From -the very commencement of the interview Mrs. Hittaway was strong-minded. -She began the subject of the marriage, and did so without a word of -congratulation. "Dear Frederic," she said, "you know that we have all got -to look up to you." - -"Well, Clara, what does that mean?" - -"It means this--that you must bear with me, if I am more anxious as to -your future career than another sister might be." - -"Now I know you are going to say something unpleasant." - -"Yes, I am, Frederic. I have heard so many bad things about Lady Eustace!" - -The Under-Secretary sat silent for a while in his great armchair. "What -sort of evil things do you mean, Clara?" he asked at last. "Evil things -are said of a great many people--as you know. I am sure you would not wish -to repeat slanders." - -Mrs. Hittaway was not to be silenced after this fashion. "Not slanders, -certainly, Frederic. But when I hear that you intend to raise this lady to -the rank and position of your wife, then of course the truth or falsehood -of these reports becomes a matter of great moment to us all. Don't you -think you had better see Mr. Camperdown?" - -"I have seen him." - -"And what does he say?" - -"What should he say? Lady Eustace has, I believe, made some mistake about -the condition of her property, and people who have heard it have been -good-natured enough to say that the error has been wilful. That is what I -call slander, Clara." - -"And you have heard about her jewels?" Mrs. Hittaway was alluding here to -the report which had reached her as to Lizzie's debt to Harter & Benjamin -when she married Sir Florian; but Lord Fawn of course thought of the -diamond necklace. - -"Yes," said he, "I have heard all about them. Who told you?" - -"I have known it ever so long. Sir Florian never got over it." Lord Fawn -was again in the dark, but he did not choose to commit himself by asking -further questions. "And then her treatment of Lady Linlithgow, who was her -only friend before she married, was something quite unnatural. Ask the -dean's people what they think of her. I believe even they would tell you." - -"Frank Greystock desired to marry her himself." - -"Yes, for her money, perhaps; because he has not got a farthing in the -world. Dear Frederic, I only wish to put you on your guard. Of course this -is very unpleasant, and I shouldn't do it if I didn't think it my duty. I -believe she is artful and very false. She certainly deceived Sir Florian -Eustace about her debts; and he never held up his head after he found out -what she was. If she told you falsehoods, of course you can break it off. -Dear Frederic, I hope you won't be angry with me." - -"Is that all?" he asked. - -"Yes, that is all." - -"I'll bear it in mind," he said. "Of course it isn't very pleasant." - -"No, I know it is not pleasant," said Mrs. Hittaway, rising, and taking -her departure with an offer of affectionate sisterly greeting, which was -not accepted with cordiality. - -It was very unpleasant. That very morning Lord Fawn had received letters -from the Dean and the Bishop of Bobsborough congratulating him on his -intended marriage, both those worthy dignitaries of the Church having -thought it expedient to verify Lizzie's statements. Lord Fawn was, -therefore, well aware that Lady Eustace had published the engagement. It -was known to everybody, and could not be broken off without public -scandal. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -I ONLY THOUGHT OF IT - - -There was great perturbation down at Fawn Court. On the day fixed, Monday, -June 5, Lizzie arrived. Nothing further had been said by Lady Fawn to urge -the invitation; but, in accordance with the arrangement already made, Lady -Eustace, with her child, her nurse, and her own maid, was at Fawn Court by -four o'clock. A very long letter had been received from Mrs. Hittaway that -morning, the writing of which must have seriously interfered with the -tranquillity of her Sunday afternoon. Lord Fawn did not make his -appearance at Richmond on the Saturday evening, nor was he seen on the -Sunday. That Sunday was, we may presume, chiefly devoted to reflection. He -certainly did not call upon his future wife. His omission to do so, no -doubt, increased Lizzie's urgency in the matter of her visit to Richmond. -Frank Greystock had written to congratulate her. "Dear Frank," she had -said in reply, "a woman situated as I am has so many things to think of. -Lord Fawn's position will be of service to my child. Mind you come and see -me at Fawn Court. I count so, much on your friendship and assistance." - -Of course she was expected at Richmond, although throughout the morning -Lady Fawn had entertained almost a hope that she wouldn't come. "He was -only lukewarm in defending her," Mrs. Hittaway had said in her letter, -"and I still think that there may be an escape." Not even a note had come -from Lord Fawn himself, nor from Lady Eustace. Possibly something violent -might have been done, and Lady Eustace would not appear. But Lady Eustace -did appear, and, after a fashion, was made welcome at Fawn Court. - -The Fawn ladies were not good hypocrites. Lady Fawn had said almost -nothing to her daughters of her visit to Mount Street, but Augusta had -heard the discussion in Mrs. Hittaway's drawing-room as to the character -of the future bride. The coming visit had been spoken of almost with awe, -and there was a general conviction in the dovecote that an evil thing had -fallen upon them. Consequently, their affection to the newcomer, though -spoken in words, was not made evident by signs and manners. Lizzie herself -took care that the position in which she was received should be -sufficiently declared. "It seems so odd that I am to come among you as a -sister," she said. The girls were forced to assent to the claim, but they -assented coldly. "He has told me to attach myself especially to you," she -whispered to Augusta. The unfortunate chosen one, who had but little -strength of her own, accepted the position, and then, as the only means of -escaping the embraces of her newly-found sister, pleaded the violence of a -headache. "My mother," said Lizzie to Lady Fawn. - -"Yes, my dear," said Lady Fawn. "One of the girls had perhaps better go up -and show you your room.--I am very much afraid about it," said Lady Fawn -to her daughter Amelia. Amelia replied only by shaking her head. - -On the Tuesday morning there came a note from Lord Fawn to his lady love. -Of course the letter was not shown, but Lizzie received it at the -breakfast table, and read it with many little smiles and signs of -satisfaction. And then she gave out various little statements as having -been made in that letter. He says this, and he says that, and he is coming -here, and going there, and he will do one thing, and he won't do the -other. We have often seen young ladies crowing over their lovers' letters, -and it was pleasant to see Lizzie crowing over hers. And yet there was but -very little in the letter. Lord Fawn told her that what with the House and -what with the Office, he could not get down to Richmond before Saturday; -but that on Saturday he would come. Then he signed himself "Yours -affectionately, Fawn." Lizzie did her crowing very prettily. The outward -show of it was there to perfection, so that the Fawn girls really believed -that their brother had written an affectionate lover's letter. Inwardly -Lizzie swore to herself, as she read the cold words with indignation, that -the man should not escape her. - -The days went by very tediously. On the Wednesday and the Friday Lady -Eustace made an excuse of going up to town, and insisted on taking the -unfortunate Augusta with her. There was no real reason for these journeys -to London, unless that glance which on each occasion was given to the -contents of the iron case was a real reason. The diamonds were safe, and -Miss Macnulty was enjoying herself. On the Friday Lizzie proposed to -Augusta that they should jointly make a raid upon the member of Her -Majesty's Government at his office; but Augusta positively refused to take -such a step. "I know he would be angry," pleaded Augusta. - -"Pshaw! who cares for his anger?" said Lizzie. But the visit was not made. - -On the Saturday--the Saturday which was to bring Lord Fawn down to dinner ---another most unexpected visitor made his appearance. At about three -o'clock Frank Greystock was at Fawn Court. Now it was certainly understood -that Mr. Greystock had been told not to come to Fawn Court as long as Lucy -Morris was there. "Dear Mr. Greystock, I'm sure you will take what I say -as I mean it," Lady Fawn had whispered to him. "You know how attached we -all are to our dear little Lucy. Perhaps you know----." There had been -more of it; but the meaning of it all was undoubtedly this, that Frank was -not to pay visits to Lucy Morris at Fawn Court. Now he had come to see his -cousin Lizzie Eustace. - -On this occasion Lady Fawn, with Amelia and two of the other girls, were -out in the carriage. The unfortunate Augusta had been left at home with -her bosom friend; while Cecilia and Nina were supposed to be talking -French with Lucy Morris. They were all out in the grounds, sitting upon -the benches, and rambling among the shrubberies, when of a sudden Frank -Greystock was in the midst of them. Lizzie's expression of joy at seeing -her cousin was almost as great as though he had been in fact a brother. -She ran up to him and grasped his hand, and hung on his arm, and looked up -into his face, and then burst into tears. But the tears were not violent -tears. There were just three sobs, and two bright eyes full of water, and -a lace handkerchief, and then a smile. "Oh, Frank," she said, "it does -make one think so of old times." Augusta had by this time been almost -persuaded to believe in her--though the belief by no means made the poor -young woman happy. Frank thought that his cousin looked very well, and -said something as to Lord Fawn being "the happiest fellow going." "I hope -I shall make him happy," said Lizzie, clasping her hands together. - -Lucy meanwhile was standing in the circle with the others. It never -occurred to her that it was her duty to run away from the man she loved. -She had shaken hands with him, and felt something of affection in his -pressure. She did not believe that his visit was made entirely to his -cousin, and had no idea at the moment of disobeying Lady Fawn. During the -last few days she had been thrown very much with her old friend Lizzie, -and had been treated by the future peeress with many signs of almost -sisterly affection. "Dear Lucy," Lizzie had said, "you can understand me. -These people--oh, they are so good, but they can't understand me." Lucy -had expressed a hope that Lord Fawn understood her. "Oh, Lord Fawn--well, -yes; perhaps--I don't know. It so often happens that one's husband is the -last person to understand one." - -"If I thought so, I wouldn't marry him," said Lucy. - -"Frank Greystock will understand you," said Lizzie. It was indeed true -that Lucy did understand something of her wealthy friend's character, and -was almost ashamed of the friendship. With Lizzie Greystock she had never -sympathised, and Lizzie Eustace had always been distasteful to her. She -already felt that the less she should see of Lizzie Fawn the better she -should like it. - -Before an hour was over Frank Greystock was walking round the shrubberies -with Lucy--and was walking with Lucy alone. It was undoubtedly the fact -that Lady Eustace had contrived that it should be so. The unfitness of the -thing recommended it to her. Frank could hardly marry a wife without a -shilling. Lucy would certainly not think at all of shillings. Frank, as -Lizzie knew, had been almost at her feet within the last fortnight, and -might, in some possible emergency, be there again. In the midst of such -circumstances nothing could be better than that Frank and Lucy should be -thrown together. Lizzie regarded all this as romance. Poor Lady Fawn, had -she known it all, would have called it diabolical wickedness and inhuman -cruelty. - -"Well, Lucy, what do you think of it?" Frank Greystock said to her. - -"Think of what, Mr. Greystock?" - -"You know what I mean--this marriage?" - -"How should I be able to think? I have never seen them together. I suppose -Lord Fawn isn't very rich. She is rich. And then she is very beautiful. -Don't you think her very beautiful?" - -"Sometimes exquisitely lovely." - -"Everybody says so, and I am sure it is the fact. Do you know--but perhaps -you'll think I am envious." - -"If I thought you envious of Lizzie, I should have to think you very -foolish at the same time." - -"I don't know what that means"--she did know well enough what it meant-- -"but sometimes to me she is almost frightful to look at." - -"In what way?" - -"Oh, I can't tell you. She looks like a beautiful animal that you are -afraid to caress for fear it should bite you--an animal that would be -beautiful if its eyes were not so restless and its teeth so sharp and so -white." - -"How very odd." - -"Why odd, Mr. Greystock?" - -"Because I feel exactly in the same way about her. I am not in the least -afraid that she'll bite me; and as for caressing the animal--that kind of -caressing which you mean--it seems to me to be just what she's made for. -But I do feel sometimes that she is like a cat." - -"Something not quite so tame as a cat," said Lucy. - -"Nevertheless she is very lovely, and very clever. Sometimes I think her -the most beautiful woman I ever saw in the world." - -"Do you, indeed?" - -"She will be immensely run after as Lady Fawn. When she pleases she can -make her own house quite charming. I never knew a woman who could say -pretty things to so many people at once." - -"You are making her out to be a paragon of perfection, Mr. Greystock." - -"And when you add to all the rest that she has four thousand a year, you -must admit that Lord Fawn is a lucky man." - -"I have said nothing against it." - -"Four thousand a year is a very great consideration, Lucy." - -Lucy for a while said nothing. She was making up her mind that she would -say nothing--that she would make no reply indicative of any feeling on her -part. But she was not sufficiently strong to keep her resolution. "I -wonder, Mr. Greystock," she said, "that you did not attempt to win the -great prize yourself. Cousins do marry." - -He had thought of attempting it, and at this moment he would not lie to -her. "The cousinship had nothing to do with it," he said. - -"Perhaps you did think of it." - -"I did, Lucy. Yes, I did. Thank God, I only thought of it." She could not -refrain herself from looking up into his face and clasping her hands -together. A woman never so dearly loves a man as when he confesses that he -has been on the brink of a great crime, but has refrained and has not -committed it. "I did think of it. I am not telling you that she would have -taken me. I have no reason whatever for thinking so." - -"I am sure she would," said Lucy, who did not in the least know what words -she was uttering. - -"It would have been simply for her money--her money and her beauty. It -would not have been because I love her." - -"Never--never ask a girl to marry you unless you love her, Mr. Greystock." - -"Then there is only one that I can ever ask," said he. There was nothing, -of course, that she could say to this. If he did not choose to go further, -she was not bound to understand him. But would he go further? She felt at -the moment that an open declaration of his love to herself would make her -happy forever, even though it should be accompanied by an assurance that -he could not marry her. If they only knew each other--that it was so -between them--that, she thought, would be enough for her. And as for him-- -if a woman could bear such a position, surely he might bear it. "Do you -know who that one is?" he asked. - -"No," she said, shaking her head. - -"Lucy, is that true?" - -"What does it matter?" - -"Lucy; look at me, Lucy," and he put his hand upon her arm. - -"No, no, no," she said. - -"I love you so well, Lucy, that I never can love another. I have thought -of many women, but could never even think of one as a woman to love except -you. I have sometimes fancied I could marry for money and position, to -help myself on in the world by means of a wife; but when my mind has run -away with me, to revel amidst ideas of feminine sweetness, you have -always--always been the heroine of the tale, as the mistress of the happy -castle in the air." - -"Have I?" she asked. - -"Always, always. As regards this," and he struck himself on the breast, -"no man was ever more constant. Though I don't think much of myself as a -man, I know a woman when I see her." But he did not ask her to be his -wife; nor did he wait at Fawn Court till Lady Fawn had come back with the -carriage. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -SHOWING WHAT FRANK GREYSTOCK DID - - -Frank Greystock escaped from the dovecote before Lady Fawn had returned. -He had not made his visit to Richmond with any purpose of seeing Lucy -Morris, or of saying to her when he did see her anything special--of -saying anything that should, or anything that should not, have been said. -He had gone there, in truth, simply because his cousin had asked him, and -because it was almost a duty on his part to see his cousin on the -momentous occasion of this new engagement. But he had declared to himself -that old Lady Fawn was a fool, and that to see Lucy again would be very -pleasant. "See her; of course I'll see her," he had said. "Why should I be -prevented from seeing her?" Now he had seen her, and as he returned by the -train to London, he acknowledged to himself that it was no longer in his -power to promote his fortune by marriage. He had at last said that to Lucy -which made it impossible for him to offer his hand to any other woman. He -had not, in truth, asked her to be his wife; but he had told her that he -loved her, and could never love any other woman. He had asked for no -answer to this assurance, and then he had left her. - -In the course of that afternoon he did question himself as to his conduct -to this girl, and subjected himself to some of the rigours of a cross- -examination. He was not a man who could think of a girl as the one human -being whom he loved above all others, and yet look forward with equanimity -to the idea of doing her an injury. He could understand that a man unable -to marry should be reticent as to his feelings, supposing him to have been -weak enough to have succumbed to a passion which could only mar his own -prospects. He was frank enough in owning to himself that he had been thus -weak. The weakness had come upon himself early in life, and was there, an -established fact. The girl was to him unlike any other girl, or any man. -There was to him a sweetness in her companionship which he could not -analyse. She was not beautiful. She had none of the charms of fashion. He -had never seen her well dressed, according to the ideas of dress which he -found to be prevailing in the world. She was a little thing, who, as a -man's wife, could attract no attention by figure, form, or outward manner; -one who had quietly submitted herself to the position of a governess, and -who did not seem to think that in doing so she obtained less than her due. -But yet he knew her to be better than all the rest. For him, at any rate, -she was better than all the rest. Her little hand was cool and sweet to -him. Sometimes, when he was heated and hard at work, he would fancy how it -would be with him if she were by him, and would lay it on his brow. There -was a sparkle in her eye that had to him more of sympathy in it than could -be conveyed by all the other eyes in the world. There was an expression in -her mouth when she smiled which was more eloquent to him than any sound. -There was a reality and a truth about her which came home to him, and made -themselves known to him as firm rocks which could not be shaken. He had -never declared to himself that deceit or hypocrisy in a woman was -especially abominable. As a rule he looked for it in women, and would say -that some amount of affectation was necessary to a woman's character. He -knew that his cousin Lizzie was a little liar--that she was, as Lucy had -said, a pretty animal that would turn and bite; and yet he liked his -cousin Lizzie. He did not want women to be perfect, so he would say. But -Lucy Morris, in his eyes, was perfect, and when he told her that she was -ever the queen who reigned in those castles in the air which he built, as -others build them, he told her no more than the truth. - -He had fallen into these feelings, and could not now avoid them, or be -quit of them; but he could have been silent respecting them. He knew that -in former days, down at Bobsborough, he had not been altogether silent. -When he had first seen her at Fawn Court he had not been altogether -silent. But he had been warned away from Fawn Court, and in that very -warning there was conveyed, as it were, an absolution from the effect of -words hitherto spoken. Though he had called Lady Fawn an old fool, he had -known that it was so--had, after a fashion, perceived her wisdom--and had -regarded himself as a man free to decide, without disgrace, that he might -abandon ideas of ecstatic love and look out for a rich wife. Presuming -himself to be reticent for the future in reference to his darling Lucy, he -might do as he pleased with himself. Thus there had come a moment in which -he had determined that he would ask his rich cousin to marry him. In that -little project he had been interrupted, and the reader knows what had come -of it. Lord Fawn's success had not in the least annoyed him. He had only -half resolved in regard to his cousin. She was very beautiful no doubt, -and there was her income; but he also knew that those teeth would bite and -that those claws would scratch. But Lord Fawn's success had given a turn -to his thoughts, and had made him think, for a moment, that if a man -loved, he should be true to his love. The reader also knows what had come -of that--how at last he had not been reticent. He had not asked Lucy to be -his wife; but he had said that which made it impossible that he should -marry any other woman without dishonour. - -As he thought of what he had done himself, he tried to remember whether -Lucy had said a word expressive of affection for himself. She had in truth -spoken very few words, and he could remember almost every one of them. -"Have I?" she had asked, when he told her that she had ever been the -princess reigning in his castles. And there had been a joy in the question -which she had not attempted to conceal. She had hesitated not at all. She -had not told him that she loved him. But there had been something sweeter -than such protestation in the question she had asked him. "Is it indeed -true," she had said, "that I have been placed there where all my joy and -all my glory lies?" It was not in her to tell a lie to him, even by a -tone. She had intended to say nothing of her love, but he knew that it had -all been told. "Have I?" he repeated the words to himself a dozen times, -and as he did so, he could hear her voice. Certainly there never was a -voice that brought home to the hearer so strong a sense of its own truth! - -Why should he not at once make up his mind to marry her? He could do it. -There was no doubt of that. It was possible for him to alter the whole -manner of his life, to give up his clubs, to give up even Parliament, if -the need to do so was there, and to live as a married man on the earnings -of his profession. There was no need why he should regard himself as a -poor man. Two things, no doubt, were against his regarding himself as a -rich man. Ever since he had commenced life in London he had been more or -less in debt; and then, unfortunately, he had acquired a seat in -Parliament at a period of his career in which the dangers of such a -position were greater than the advantages. Nevertheless he could earn an -income on which he and his wife, were he to marry, could live in all -comfort; and as to his debts, if he would set his shoulder to the work -they might be paid off in a twelvemonth. There was nothing in the prospect -which would frighten Lucy, though there might be a question whether he -possessed the courage needed for so violent a change. - -He had chambers in the Temple; he lived in rooms which he hired from month -to month in one of the big hotels at the West End; and he dined at his -club, or at the House, when he was not dining with a friend. It was an -expensive and a luxurious mode of life, and one from the effects of which -a man is prone to drift very quickly into selfishness. He was by no means -given to drinking, but he was already learning to like good wine. Small -economies in reference to cab-hire, gloves, umbrellas, and railway fares, -were unknown to him. Sixpences and shillings were things with which, in -his mind, it was grievous to have to burden the thoughts. The Greystocks -had all lived after that fashion. Even the dean himself was not free from -the charge of extravagance. All this Frank knew, and he did not hesitate -to tell himself that he must make a great change if he meant to marry Lucy -Morris. And he was wise enough to know that the change would become more -difficult every day that it was postponed. Hitherto the question had been -an open question with him. Could it now be an open question any longer? As -a man of honour, was he not bound to share his lot with Lucy Morris? - -That evening--that Saturday evening--it so happened that he met John -Eustace at a club to which they both belonged, and they dined together. -They had long known each other, and had been thrown into closer intimacy -by the marriage between Sir Florian and Lizzie. John Eustace had never -been fond of Lizzie, and now, in truth, liked her less than ever; but he -did like Lizzie's cousin, and felt that possibly Frank might be of use to -him in the growing difficulty of managing the heir's property and looking -after the heir's interests. - -"You've let the widow slip through your fingers," he said to Frank, as -they sat together at the table. - -"I told you Lord Fawn was to be the lucky man," said Frank. - -"I know you did. I hadn't seen it. I can only say I wish it had been the -other way." - -"Why so? Fawn isn't a bad fellow." - -"No, not exactly a bad fellow. He isn't, you know, what I call a good -fellow. In the first place, he is marrying her altogether for her money." - -"Which is just what you advised me to do." - -"I thought you really liked her. And then Fawn will be always afraid of -her, and won't be in the least afraid of us. We shall have to fight him, -and he won't fight her. He's a cantankerous fellow--is Fawn--when he's not -afraid of his adversary." - -"But why should there be any fighting?" - -Eustace paused a minute, and rubbed his face and considered the matter -before he answered. "She is troublesome, you know," he said. - -"What, Lizzie?" - -"Yes; and I begin to be afraid she'll give us as much as we know how to -do. I was with Camperdown to-day. I'm blessed if she hasn't begun to cut -down a whole side of a forest at Portray. She has no more right to touch -the timber, except for repairs about the place, than you have." - -"And if she lives for fifty years," asked Greystock, "is none to be cut?" - -"Yes--by consent. Of course, the regular cutting for the year is done, -year by year. That's as regular as the rents, and the produce is sold by -the acre. But she is marking the old oaks. What the deuce can she want -money for?" - -"Fawn will put all that right." - -"He'll have to do it," said Eustace. "Since she has been down with old -Lady Fawn, she has written a note to Camperdown--after leaving all his -letters unanswered for the last twelve-month--to tell him that Lord Fawn -is to have nothing to do with her property, and that certain people, -called Mowbray & Mopus, are her lawyers. Camperdown is in an awful way -about it." - -"Lord Fawn will put it all right," said Frank. - -"Camperdown is afraid that he won't. They've met twice since the -engagement was made, and Camperdown says that, at the last meeting, Fawn -gave himself airs, or was, at any rate, unpleasant. There were words about -those diamonds." - -"You don't mean to say that Lord Fawn wants to keep your brother's family -jewels?" - -"Camperdown didn't say that exactly; but Fawn made no offer of giving them -up. I wasn't there, and only heard what Camperdown told me. Camperdown -thinks he's afraid of her." - -"I shouldn't wonder at that in the least," said Frank. - -"I know there'll be trouble," continued Eustace, "and Fawn won't be able -to help us through it. She's a strong-willed, cunning, obstinate, clever -little creature. Camperdown swears he'll be too many for her, but I almost -doubt it." - -"And therefore you wish I were going to marry her?" - -"Yes, I do. You might manage her. The money comes from the Eustace -property, and I'd sooner it should go to you than a half-hearted, numb- -fingered, cold-blooded Whig like Fawn." - -"I don't like cunning women," said Frank. - -"As bargains go, it wouldn't be a bad one," said Eustace. "She's very -young, has a noble jointure, and is as handsome as she can stand. It's too -good a thing for Fawn; too good for any Whig." - -When Eustace left him, Greystock lit his cigar and walked with it in his -mouth from Pall Mall to the Temple. He often worked there at night when he -was not bound to be in the House, or when the House was not sitting; and -he was now intent on mastering the mysteries of some much-complicated -legal case which had been confided to him, in order that he might present -it to a jury enveloped in increased mystery. But, as he went, he thought -rather of matrimony than of law; and he thought especially of matrimony as -it was about to affect Lord Fawn. Could a man be justified in marrying for -money, or have rational ground for expecting that he might make himself -happy by doing so? He kept muttering to himself as he went the Quaker's -advice to the old farmer, "Doan't thou marry for munny, but goa where -munny is!" But he muttered it as condemning the advice rather than -accepting it. - -He could look out and see two altogether different kinds of life before -him, both of which had their allurements. There was the Belgravia-cum- -Pimlico life, the scene of which might extend itself to South Kensington, -enveloping the parks and coming round over Park Lane, and through -Grosvenor Square and Berkeley Square back to Piccadilly. Within this he -might live with lords and countesses and rich folk generally, going out to -the very best dinner parties, avoiding stupid people, having everything -the world could give, except a wife and family and home of his own. All -this he could achieve by the work which would certainly fall in his way, -and by means of that position in the world which he had already attained -by his wits. And the wife, with the family and house of his own, might be -forthcoming, should it ever come in his way to form an attachment with a -wealthy woman. He knew how dangerous were the charms of such a life as -this to a man growing old among the flesh-pots, without any one to depend -upon him. He had seen what becomes of the man who is always dining out at -sixty. But he might avoid that. "Doan't thou marry for munny, but goa -where munny is." And then there was that other outlook, the scene of which -was laid somewhere north of Oxford Street, and the glory of which -consisted in Lucy's smile, and Lucy's hand, and Lucy's kiss, as he -returned home weary from his work. - -There are many men, and some women, who pass their lives without knowing -what it is to be or to have been in love. They not improbably marry--the -men do, at least, and make good average husbands. Their wives are useful -to them, and they learn to feel that a woman, being a wife, is entitled to -all the respect, protection, and honour which a man can give, or procure -for her. Such men, no doubt, often live honest lives, are good Christians, -and depart hence with hopes as justifiable as though they had loved as -well as Romeo. But yet, as men, they have lacked a something, the want of -which has made them small, and poor, and dry. It has never been felt by -such a one that there would be triumph in giving away everything belonging -to him for one little whispered, yielding word, in which there should be -acknowledgment that he had succeeded in making himself master of a human -heart. And there are other men, very many men, who have felt this love, -and have resisted it, feeling it to be unfit that Love should be lord of -all. Frank Greystock had told himself, a score of times, that it would be -unbecoming in him to allow a passion to obtain such mastery of him as to -interfere with his ambition. Could it be right that he who, as a young -man, had already done so much, who might possibly have before him so high -and great a career, should miss that, because he could not resist a -feeling which a little chit of a girl had created in his bosom--a girl -without money, without position, without even beauty; a girl as to whom, -were he to marry her, the world would say, "Oh, heaven! there has Frank -Greystock gone and married a little governess out of old Lady Fawn's -nursery"? And yet he loved her with all his heart, and to-day he had told -her of his love. What should he do next? - -The complicated legal case received neither much ravelling nor unravelling -from his brains that night; but before he left his chambers he wrote the -following letter: - -"MIDNIGHT, Saturday, - -"All among my books and papers, - -"2 Bolt Court, Middle Temple. - -"DEAR, DEAR LUCY: I told you to-day that you ever had been the queen who -reigned in those palaces which I have built in Spain. You did not make me -much of an answer; but such as it was, only just one muttered doubtful- -sounding word, it has made me hope that I may be justified in asking you -to share with me a home which will not be palatial. If I am wrong--? But -no; I will not think I am wrong, or that I can be wrong. No sound coming -from you is really doubtful. You are truth itself, and the muttered word -would have been other than it was, if you had not----! may I say, had you -not already learned to love me? - -"You will feel, perhaps, that I ought to have said all this to you then, -and that a letter in such a matter is but a poor substitute for a spoken -assurance of affection. You shall have the whole truth. Though I have long -loved you, I did not go down to Fawn Court with the purpose of declaring -to you my love. What I said to you was God's truth; but it was spoken -without thought at the moment. I have thought of it much since; and now I -write to you to ask you to be my wife. I have lived for the last year or -two with this hope before me; and now--. Dear, dear Lucy, I will not write -in too great confidence; but I will tell you that all my happiness is in -your hands. - -"If your answer is what I hope it may be, tell Lady Fawn at once. I shall -immediately write to Bobsborough, as I hate secrets in such matters. And -if it is to be so, then I shall claim the privilege of going to Fawn Court -as soon and as often as I please. - -"Yours ever and always, if you will have me, - -"F. G." - -He sat for an hour at his desk, with his letter lying on the table, before -he left his chambers, looking at it. If he should decide on posting it, -then would that life in Belgravia-cum-Pimlico, of which in truth he was -very fond, be almost closed for him. The lords and countesses, and rich -county members, and leading politicians, who were delighted to welcome -him, would not care for his wife; nor could he very well take his wife -among them. To live with them as a married man, he must live as they -lived, and must have his own house in their precincts. Later in life, he -might possibly work up to this; but for the present he must retire into -dim domestic security and the neighbourhood of Regent's Park. He sat -looking at the letter, telling himself that he was now, at this moment, -deciding his own fate in life. And he again muttered the Quaker's advice, -"Doan't thou marry for munny, but goa where munny is!" It may be said, -however, that no man ever writes such a letter, and then omits to send it. -He walked out of the Temple with it in his hand, and dropped it into a -pillar letter-box just outside the gate. As the envelope slipped through -his fingers, he felt that he had now bound himself to his fate. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -"DOAN'T THOU MARRY FOR MUNNY" - - -As that Saturday afternoon wore itself away, there was much excitement at -Fawn Court. When Lady Fawn returned with the carriage, she heard that -Frank Greystock had been at Fawn Court; and she heard also, from Augusta, -that he had been rambling about the grounds alone with Lucy Morris. At any -exhibition of old ladies, held before a competent jury, Lady Fawn would -have taken a prize on the score of good-humour. No mother of daughters was -ever less addicted to scold and to be fretful. But just now she was a -little unhappy. Lizzie's visit had not been a success, and she looked -forward to her son's marriage with almost unmixed dismay. Mrs. Hittaway -had written daily, and in all Mrs. Hittaway's letters some addition was -made to the evil things already known. In her last letter Mrs. Hittaway -had expressed her opinion that even yet "Frederic" would escape. All this -Lady Fawn had, of course, not told to her daughters generally. To the -eldest, Augusta, it was thought expedient to say nothing, because Augusta -had been selected as the companion of the, alas, too probable future Lady -Fawn. But to Amelia something did leak out, and it became apparent that -the household was uneasy. Now, as an evil added to this, Frank Greystock -had been there in Lady Fawn's absence, walking about the grounds alone -with Lucy Morris. Lady Fawn could hardly restrain herself. "How could Lucy -be so very wrong?" she said, in the hearing both of Augusta and Amelia. - -Lizzie Eustace did not hear this; but knowing very well that a governess -should not receive a lover in the absence of the lady of the house, she -made her little speech about it. "Dear Lady Fawn," she said, "my cousin -Frank came to see me while you were out." - -"So I hear," said Lady Fawn. - -"Frank and I are more like brother and sister than anything else. I had so -much to say to him; so much to ask him to do! I have no one else, you -know, and I had especially told him to come here." - -"Of course he was welcome to come." - -"Only I was afraid you might think that there was some little lover's -trick--on dear Lucy's part, you know." - -"I never suspect anything of that kind," said Lady Fawn, bridling up. -"Lucy Morris is above any sort of trick. We don't have any tricks here, -Lady Eustace." Lady Fawn herself might say that Lucy was "wrong," but no -one else in that house should even suggest evil of Lucy. Lizzie retreated -smiling. To have "put Lady Fawn's back up," as she called it, was to her -an achievement and a pleasure. - -But the great excitement of the evening consisted in the expected coming -of Lord Fawn. Of what nature would be the meeting between Lord Fawn and -his promised bride? Was there anything of truth in the opinion expressed -by Mrs. Hittaway that her brother was beginning to become tired of his -bargain? That Lady Fawn was tired of it herself--that she disliked Lizzie -and was afraid of her, and averse to the idea of regarding her as a -daughter-in-law-she did not now attempt to hide from herself. But there -was the engagement, known to all the world, and how could its fulfilment -now be avoided? The poor dear old woman began to repeat to herself the -first half of the Quaker's advice, "Doan't thou marry for munny." - -Lord Fawn was to come down only in time for a late dinner. An ardent -lover, one would have thought, might have left his work somewhat earlier -on a Saturday, so as to have enjoyed with his sweetheart something of the -sweetness of the Saturday summer afternoon; but it was seven before he -reached Fawn Court, and the ladies were at that time in their rooms -dressing. Lizzie had affected to understand all his reasons for being so -late, and had expressed herself as perfectly satisfied. "He has more to do -than any of the others," she had said to Augusta. "Indeed the whole of our -vast Indian empire may be said to hang upon him just at present;" which -was not complimentary to Lord Fawn's chief, the Right Honourable Legge -Wilson, who at the present time represented the interests of India in the -Cabinet. "He is terribly overworked, and it is a shame; but what can one -do?" - -"I think he likes work," Augusta had replied. - -"But I don't like it, not so much of it; and so I shall make him -understand, my dear. But I don't complain. As long as he tells me -everything, I will never really complain." Perhaps it might some day be as -she desired; perhaps as a husband he would be thoroughly confidential and -communicative; perhaps when they two were one flesh he would tell her -everything about India; but as yet he certainly had not told her much. - -"How had they better meet?" Amelia asked her mother. - -"Oh, I don't know; anyhow; just as they like. We can't arrange anything -for her. If she had chosen to dress herself early, she might have seen him -as he came in; but it was impossible to tell her so." No arrangement was -therefore made, and as all the other ladies were in the drawing-room -before Lizzie came down, she had to give him his welcome in the midst of -the family circle. She did it very well. Perhaps she had thought of it, -and made her arrangements. When he came forward to greet her, she put her -cheek up, just a little, so that he might see that he was expected to kiss -it; but so little that should he omit to do so, there might be no visible -awkwardness. It must be acknowledged on Lizzie's behalf, that she could -always avoid awkwardness. He did touch her cheek with his lips, blushing -as he did so. She had her ungloved hand in his, and, still holding him, -returned into the circle. She said not a word; and what he said was of no -moment; but they had met as lovers, and any of the family who had allowed -themselves to imagine that even yet the match might be broken, now -unconsciously abandoned that hope. - -"Was he always such a truant, Lady Fawn?" Lizzie asked, when it seemed to -her that no one else would speak a word. - -"I don't know that there is much difference," said Lady Fawn. "Here is -dinner. Frederic, will you give--Lady Eustace your arm?" Poor Lady Fawn! -It often came to pass that she was awkward. - -There were no less than ten females sitting round the board at the bottom -of which Lord Fawn took his place. Lady Fawn had especially asked Lucy to -come in to dinner, and with Lucy had come the two younger girls. At Lord -Fawn's right hand sat Lizzie, and Augusta at his left. Lady Fawn had -Amelia on one side and Lucy on the other. "So Mr. Greystock was here to- -day," Lady Fawn whispered into Lucy's ear. - -"Yes; he was here." - -"Oh, Lucy." - -"I did not bid him come, Lady Fawn." - -"I am sure of that, my dear; but--but----" Then there was no more said on -that subject on that occasion. - -During the whole of the dinner the conversation was kept up at the other -end of the table by Lizzie talking to Augusta across her lover. This was -done in such a manner as to seem to include Lord Fawn in every topic -discussed. Parliament, India, the Sawab, Ireland, the special privileges -of the House of Lords, the ease of a bachelor life, and the delight of -having at his elbow just such a rural retreat as Fawn Court--these were -the fruitful themes of Lizzie's eloquence. Augusta did her part at any -rate with patience; and as for Lizzie herself, she worked with that -superhuman energy which women can so often display in making conversation -under unfavourable circumstances. The circumstances were unfavourable, for -Lord Fawn himself would hardly open his mouth; but Lizzie persevered, and -the hour of dinner passed over without any show of ill-humour or of sullen -silence. When the hour was over, Lord Fawn left the room with the ladies, -and was soon closeted with his mother, while the girls strolled out upon -the lawn. Would Lizzie play croquet? No; Lizzie would not play croquet. -She thought it probable that she might catch her lover and force him to -walk with her through the shrubberies; but Lord Fawn was not seen upon the -lawn that evening, and Lizzie was forced to content herself with Augusta -as a companion. In the course of the evening, however, her lover did say a -word to her in private. "Give me ten minutes to-morrow between breakfast -and church, Lizzie." Lizzie promised that she would do so, smiling -sweetly. Then there was a little music, and then Lord Fawn retired to his -studies. - -"What is he going to say to me?" Lizzie asked Augusta the next morning. -There existed in her bosom a sort of craving after confidential -friendship, but with it there existed something that was altogether -incompatible with confidence. She thoroughly despised Augusta Fawn, and -yet would have been willing--in want of a better friend--to press Augusta -to her bosom and swear that there should ever be between them the -tenderest friendship. She desired to be the possessor of the outward shows -of all those things of which the inward facts are valued by the good and -steadfast ones of the earth. She knew what were the aspirations, what the -ambition, of an honest woman; and she knew, too, how rich were the -probable rewards of such honesty. True love, true friendship, true -benevolence, true tenderness, were beautiful to her, qualities on which -she could descant almost with eloquence; and therefore she was always -shamming love and friendship and benevolence and tenderness. She could -tell you, with words most appropriate to the subject, how horrible were -all shams, and in saying so would be not altogether insincere. Yet she -knew that she herself was ever shamming, and she satisfied herself with -shams. "What is he going to say to me?" she asked Augusta, with her hands -clasped, when she went up to put her bonnet on after breakfast. - -"To fix the day, I suppose," said Augusta. - -"If I thought so, I would endeavour to please him. But it isn't that. I -know his manner so well! I am sure it is not that. Perhaps it is something -about my boy. He will not wish to separate a mother from her child." - -"Oh dear, no," said Augusta. "I am sure Frederic will not want to do -that." - -"In anything else I will obey him," said Lizzie, again clasping her hands. -"But I must not keep him waiting, must I? I fear my future lord is -somewhat impatient." Now, if among Lord Fawn's merits one merit was more -conspicuous than another, it was that of patience. When Lizzie descended, -he was waiting for her in the hall without a thought that he was being -kept too long. "Now, Frederic! I should have been with you two whole -minutes since, if I had not had just a word to say to Augusta. I do so -love Augusta." - -"She is a very good girl," said Lord Fawn. - -"So true and genuine, and so full of spirit. I will come on the other side -because of my parasol and the sun. There, that will do. We have an hour -nearly before going to church; haven't we? I suppose you will go to -church." - -"I intend it," said Lord Fawn. - -"It is so nice to go to church," said Lizzie. Since her widowhood had -commenced she had compromised matters with the world. One Sunday she would -go to church and the next she would have a headache and a French novel and -stay in bed. But she was prepared for stricter conduct during at least the -first months of her newly-married life. - -"My dear Lizzie," began Lord Fawn, "since I last saw you I have been twice -with Mr. Camperdown." - -"You are not going to talk about Mr. Camperdown today?" - -"Well; yes. I could not do so last night, and I shall be back in London -either to-night or before you are up tomorrow morning." - -"I hate the very name of Mr. Camperdown," said Lizzie. - -"I am sorry for that, because I am sure you could not find an honester -lawyer to manage your affairs for you. He does everything for me, and so -he did for Sir Florian Eustace." - -"That is just the reason why I employ some one else," she answered. - -"Very well. I am not going to say a word about that. I may regret it, but -I am, just at present, the last person in the world to urge you upon that -subject. What I want to say is this. You must restore those diamonds." - -"To whom shall I restore them?" - -"To Mr. Garnett the silversmith, if you please, or to Mr. Camperdown; or, -if you like it better, to your brother-in-law, Mr. John Eustace." - -"And why am I to give up my own property?" - -Lord Fawn paused for some seconds before he replied. "To satisfy my -honour," he then said. As she made him no immediate answer he continued. -"It would not suit my views that my wife should be seen wearing the jewels -of the Eustace family." - -"I don't want to wear them," said Lizzie. - -"Then why should you desire to keep them?" - -"Because they are my own. Because I do not choose to be put upon. Because -I will not allow such a cunning old snake as Mr. Camperdown to rob me of -my property. They are my own, and you should defend my right to them." - -"Do you mean to say that you will not oblige me by doing what I ask you?" - -"I will not be robbed of what is my own," said Lizzie. - -"Then I must declare"--and now Lord Fawn spoke very slowly--"then I must -declare that under these circumstances, let the consequences be what they -may, I must retreat from the enviable position which your favour has given -me." The words were cold and solemn, and were ill-spoken; but they were -deliberate, and had been indeed actually learned by heart. - -"What do you mean?" said Lizzie, flashing round upon him. - -"I mean what I say, exactly. But perhaps it may be well that I should -explain my motives more clearly." - -"I don't know anything about motives, and I don't care anything about -motives. Do you mean to tell me that you have come here to threaten me -with deserting me?" - -"You had better hear me." - -"I don't choose to hear a word more after what you have said, unless it be -in the way of an apology, or retracting your most injurious accusation." - -"I have said nothing to retract," said Lord Fawn solemnly. - -"Then I will not hear another word from you. I have friends and you shall -see them." - -Lord Fawn, who had thought a great deal upon the subject and had well -understood that this interview would be for him one of great difficulty, -was very anxious to induce her to listen to a few further words of -explanation. "Dear Lizzie," he began. - -"I will not be addressed, sir, in that way by a man who is treating me as -you are doing," she said. - -"But I want you to understand me." - -"Understand you! You understand nothing yourself that a man ought to -understand. I wonder that you have the courage to be so insolent. If you -knew what you were doing, you would not have the spirit to do it." - -Her words did not quite come home to him, and much of her scorn was lost -upon him. He was now chiefly anxious to explain to her that though he must -abide by the threat he had made, he was quite willing to go on with his -engagement if she would oblige him in the matter of the diamonds. "It was -necessary that I should explain to you that I could not allow that -necklace to be brought into my house." - -"No one thought of taking it to your house." - -"What were you to do with it, then?" - -"Keep it in my own," said Lizzie stoutly. They were still walking -together, and were now altogether out of sight of the house. Lizzie in her -excitement had forgotten church, had forgotten the Fawn women--had -forgotten everything except the battle which it was necessary that she -should fight for herself. She did not mean to allow the marriage to be -broken off, but she meant to retain the necklace. The manner in which Lord -Fawn had demanded its restitution--in which there had been none of that -mock tenderness by which she might have permitted herself to be persuaded ---had made her, at any rate for the moment, as firm as steel on this -point. It was inconceivable to her that he should think himself at liberty -to go back from his promise because she would not render up property -which was in her possession, and which no one could prove not to be -legally her own! She walked on full of fierce courage, despising him, but -determined that she would marry him. - -"I am afraid we do not understand each other," he said at last. - -"Certainly I do not understand you, sir." - -"Will you allow my mother to speak to you on the subject?" - -"No. If I told your mother to give up her diamonds, what would she say?" - -"But they are not yours, Lady Eustace, unless you will submit that -question to an arbitrator." - -"I will submit nothing to anybody. You have no right to speak on such a -subject till after we are married." - -"I must have it settled first, Lady Eustace." - -"Then, Lord Fawn, you won't have it settled first. Or rather it is settled -already. I shall keep my own necklace, and Mr. Camperdown may do anything -he pleases. As for you, if you ill-treat me, I shall know where to go to." - -They had now come out from the shrubbery upon the lawn, and there was the -carriage at the door, ready to take the elders of the family to church. Of -course in such a condition of affairs it would be understood that Lizzie -was one of the elders. - -"I shall not go to church now," she said, as she advanced across the lawn -toward the hall door. "You will be pleased, Lord Fawn, to let your mother -know that I am detained. I do not suppose that you will dare to tell her -why." Then she sailed round at the back of the carriage and entered the -hall, in which several of the girls were standing. Among them was Augusta, -waiting to take her seat among the elders; but Lizzie passed on through -them all, without a word, and marched up to her bedroom. - -"Oh, Frederic, what is the matter?" said Augusta, as soon as her brother -entered the house. - -"Never mind. Nothing is the matter. You had better go to church. Where is -my mother?" - -At this moment Lady Fawn appeared at the bottom of the stairs, having -passed Lizzie as she was coming down. Not a syllable had then been spoken, -but Lady Fawn at once knew that much was wrong. Her son went up to her and -whispered a word in her ear. "Oh, certainly," she said, desisting from the -operation of pulling on her gloves. "Augusta, neither your brother nor I -will go to church." - -"Nor--Lady Eustace?" - -"It seems not," said Lady Fawn. - -"Lady Eustace will not go to church," said Lord Fawn. - -"And where is Lucy?" asked Lydia. - -"She will not go to church either," said Lady Fawn. "I have just been with -her." - -"Nobody is going to church," said Nina. "All the same, I shall go myself." - -"Augusta, my dear, you and the girls had better go. You can take the -carriage of course." But Augusta and the girls chose to walk, and the -carriage was sent round into the yard. - -"There's a rumpus already between my lord and the young missus," said the -coachman to the groom; for the coachman had seen the way in which Lady -Eustace had returned to the house. And there certainly was a rumpus. -During the whole morning Lord Fawn was closeted with his mother, and then -he went away to London without saying a word to any one of the family. But -he left this note for Lady Eustace: - -"DEAREST LIZZIE: Think well of what I have said to you. It is not that I -desire to break off our engagement; but that I cannot allow my wife to -keep the diamonds which belong of right to her late husband's family. You -may be sure that I should not be thus urgent had I not taken steps to -ascertain that I am right in my judgment. In the mean time you had better -consult my mother. - -"Yours affectionately, - -"FAWN." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -"I'LL GIVE YOU A HUNDRED-GUINEA BROOCH" - - -There had been another "affair" in the house that morning, though of a -nature very different to the "rumpus" which had occurred between Lord Fawn -and Lady Eustace. Lady Fawn had been closeted with Lucy, and had expressed -her opinion of the impropriety of Frank Greystock's visit. "I suppose he -came to see his cousin," said Lady Fawn, anxious to begin with some -apology for such conduct. - -"I cannot tell," said Lucy. "Perhaps he did. I think he said so. I think -he cared more to see me." Then Lady Fawn was obliged to express her -opinion, and she did so, uttering many words of wisdom. Frank Greystock, -had he intended to sacrifice his prospects by a disinterested marriage, -would have spoken out before now. He was old enough to have made up his -mind on such a subject, and he had not spoken out. He did not mean -marriage. That was quite evident to Lady Fawn; and her dear Lucy was -revelling in hopes which would make her miserable. If Lucy could only have -known of the letter, which was already her own property though lying in -the pillar letter-box in Fleet Street, and which had not already been sent -down and delivered simply because it was Sunday morning! But she was very -brave. "He does love me," she said. "He told me so." - -"Oh, Lucy, that is worse and worse. A man to tell you that he loves you, -and yet not ask you to be his wife!" - -"I am contented," said Lucy. That assertion, however, could hardly have -been true. - -"Contented! And did you tell him that you returned his love?" - -"He knew it without my telling him," said Lucy. It was so hard upon her -that she should be so interrogated while that letter was lying in the iron -box! - -"Dear Lucy, this must not be," said Lady Fawn. "You are preparing for -yourself inexpressible misery." - -"I have done nothing wrong, Lady Fawn." - -"No, my dear--no. I do not say you have been wrong. But I think he is -wrong--so wrong! I call it wicked. I do indeed. For your own sake you -should endeavour to forget him." - -"I will never forget him," said Lucy. "To think of him is everything to -me. He told me I was his Queen, and he shall be my King. I will be loyal -to him always." To poor Lady Fawn this was very dreadful. The girl -persisted in declaring her love for the man, and yet did not even pretend -to think that the man meant to marry her! And this, too, was Lucy Morris-- -of whom Lady Fawn was accustomed to say to her intimate friends that she -had altogether ceased to look upon her as a governess. "Just one of -ourselves, Mrs. Winslow, and almost as dear as one of my own girls!" Thus, -in the warmth of her heart, she had described Lucy to a neighbour within -the last week. Many more words of wisdom she spoke, and then she left poor -Lucy in no mood for church. Would she have been in a better mood for the -morning service had she known of the letter in the iron post? - -Then Lady Fawn had put on her bonnet and gone down into the hall, and the -"rumpus" had come. After that, everybody in the house knew that all things -were astray. When the girls came home from church their brother was gone. -Half an hour before dinner Lady Fawn sent the note up to Lizzie, with a -message to say that they would dine at three--it being Sunday. Lizzie sent -down word that as she was unwell she would ask to have just a cup of tea -and "something" sent to her own room. If Lady Fawn would allow her, she -would remain up-stairs with her child. She always made use of her child -when troubles came. - -The afternoon was very sad and dreary. Lady Fawn had an interview with -Lady Eustace, but Lizzie altogether refused to listen to any advice on the -subject of the necklace. "It is an affair," she said haughtily, "in which -I must judge for myself--or with the advice of my own particular friends. -Had Lord Fawn waited until we were married; then indeed--!" - -"But that would have been too late," said Lady Fawn severely. - -"He is, at any rate, premature now in laying his commands upon me," said -Lizzie. Lady Fawn, who was perhaps more anxious that the marriage should -be broken off than that the jewels should be restored, then withdrew; and -as she left the room Lizzie clasped her boy to her bosom. "He, at any -rate, is left to me," she said. Lucy and the Fawn girls went to evening -church, and afterwards Lizzie came down among them when they were at tea. -Before she went to bed Lizzie declared her intention of returning to her -own house in Mount Street on the following day. To this Lady Fawn of -course made no objection. - -On the next morning there came an event which robbed Lizzie's departure of -some of the importance which might otherwise have been attached to it. The -post-office, with that accuracy in the performance of its duties for which -it is conspicuous among all offices, caused Lucy's letter to be delivered -to her while the members of the family were sitting round the breakfast -table. Lizzie, indeed, was not there. She had expressed her intention of -breakfasting in her own room, and had requested that a conveyance might be -ready to take her to the 11:30 train. Augusta had been with her, asking -whether anything could be done for her. "I care for nothing now, except my -child," Lizzie had replied. As the nurse and the lady's maid were both in -the room, Augusta, of course, could say nothing further. That occurred -after prayers, and while the tea was being made. When Augusta reached the -breakfast-room Lucy was cutting up the loaf of bread, and at the same -moment the old butler was placing a letter immediately under her eyes. She -saw the handwriting and recognised it, but yet she finished cutting the -bread. "Lucy, do give me that hunchy bit," said Nina. - -"Hunchy is not in the dictionary," said Cecilia. - -"I want it in my plate, and not in the dictionary," said Nina. - -Lucy did as she was asked, but her hand trembled as she gave the hunch, -and Lady Fawn saw that her face was crimson. She took the letter and broke -the envelope, and as she drew out the sheet of paper she looked up at Lady -Fawn. The fate of her whole life was in her hands, and there she was -standing with all their eyes fixed upon her. She did not even know how to -sit down, but, still standing, she read the first and last words, "Dear, -dear Lucy,"--"Yours ever and always, if you will have me, F. G." She did -not want to read any more of it then. She sat down slowly, put the -precious paper back into its envelope, looked round upon them all, and -knew that she was crimson to the roots of her hair, blushing like a guilty -thing. - -"Lucy, my dear," said Lady Fawn--and Lucy at once turned her face full -upon her old friend--"you have got a letter that agitates you." - -"Yes, I have," she said. - -"Go into the book-room. You can come back to breakfast when you have read -it, you know." Thereupon Lucy rose from her seat, and retired with her -treasure into the book-room. But even when she was there she could not at -once read her letter. When the door was closed and she knew that she was -alone she looked at it, and then clasped it tight between her hands. She -was almost afraid to read it least the letter itself should contradict the -promise which the last words of it had seemed to convey to her. She went -up to the window and stood there gazing out upon the gravel road, with her -hand containing the letter pressed upon her heart. Lady Fawn had told her -that she was preparing for herself inexpressible misery; and now there had -come to her joy so absolutely inexpressible! "A man to tell you that he -loves you, and yet not ask you to be his wife!" She repeated to herself -Lady Fawn's words, and then those other words, "Yours ever and always, if -you will have me!" Have him, indeed! She threw from her, at once, as vain -and wicked and false, all idea of coying her love. She would leap at his -neck if he were there, and tell him that for years he had been almost her -god. And of course he knew it. "If I will have him! Traitor!" she said to -herself, smiling through her tears. Then she reflected that after all it -would be well that she should read the letter. There might be conditions; -though what conditions could he propose with which she would not comply? -However, she seated herself in a corner of the room and did read the -letter. As she read it, she hardly understood it all; but she understood -what she wanted to understand. He asked her to share with him his home. He -had spoken to her that day without forethought; but mustn't such speech be -the truest and the sweetest of all speeches? "And now I write to you to -ask you to be my wife." Oh, how wrong some people can be in their -judgments! How wrong Lady Fawn had been in hers about Frank Greystock! -"For the last year or two I have lived with this hope before me." "And so -have I," said Lucy. "And so have I; with that and no other." "Too great -confidence! Traitor," she said again, smiling and weeping, "yes, traitor; -when of course you knew it." "Is his happiness in my hands? Oh, then he -shall be happy." "Of course I will tell Lady Fawn at once--instantly. Dear -Lady Fawn! But yet she has been so wrong. I suppose she will let him come -here. But what does it matter, now that I know it? "Yours ever and always, -if you will have me. F. G." Traitor, traitor, traitor!" Then she got up -and walked about the room, not knowing what she did, holding the letter -now between her hands, and then pressing it to her lips. - -She was still walking about the room when there came a low tap at the -door, and Lady Fawn entered. "There is nothing the matter, Lucy?" Lucy -stood stock still, with her treasure still clasped, smiling, almost -laughing, while the tears ran down her cheeks. "Won't you eat your -breakfast, my dear?" said Lady Fawn. - -"Oh, Lady Fawn! Oh, Lady Fawn!" said Lucy, rushing into her friend's arms. - -"What is it, Lucy? I think our little wise one has lost her wits." - -"Oh, Lady Fawn, he has asked me!" - -"Is it Mr. Greystock?" - -"Yes; Mr. Greystock. He has asked me. He has asked me to be his wife. I -thought he loved me. I hoped he did at least. Oh dear, I did so hope it. -And he does." - -"Has he proposed to you?" - -"Yes, Lady Fawn. I told you what he said to me. And then he went and wrote -this. Is he not noble and good, and so kind? You shall read it, but you'll -give it me back, Lady Fawn?" - -"Certainly I'll give it you back. You don't think I'd rob you of your -lover's letter?" - -"Perhaps you might think it right." - -"If it is really an offer of marriage----," said Lady Fawn very seriously. - -"It couldn't be more of an offer if he had sat writing it for ever," said -Lucy as she gave up her letter with confidence. Lady Fawn read it with -leisurely attention, and smiled as she put the paper back into the -envelope. "All the men in the world couldn't say it more plainly," said -Lucy, nodding her head forward. - -"I don't think they could," said Lady Fawn. "I never read anything plainer -in my life. I wish you joy with all my heart, Lucy. There is not a word to -be said against him." - -"Against him!" said Lucy, who thought that this was very insufficient -praise. - -"What I mean is that when I objected to his coming here I was only afraid -that he couldn't afford, or would think, you know, that in his position he -couldn't afford to marry a wife without a fortune." - -"He may come now, Lady Fawn?" - -"Well, yes; I think so. I shall be glad just to say a word to him. Of -course you are in my hands, and I do love you so dearly, Lucy! I could not -bear that anything but good should happen to you." - -"This is good," said Lucy. - -"It won't be good, and Mr. Greystock won't think you good, if you don't -come and eat your breakfast." So Lucy was led back into the parlour, and -sipped her tea and crunched her toast, while Lydia came and stood over -her. - -"Of course it is from him," whispered Lydia. Lucy again nodded her head -while she was crunching her toast. - -The fact that Mr. Greystock had proposed in form to Lucy Morris was soon -known to all the family, and the news certainly did take away something -from the importance which would otherwise have been attached to Lizzie's -departure. There was not the same awe of the ceremony, the same dread of -some scene, which, but for Frank Greystock's letter, would have existed. -Of course Lord Fawn's future matrimonial prospects were to them all an -affair of more moment than those of Lucy; but Lord Fawn himself had gone, -and had already quarrelled with the lady before he went. There was at -present nothing more to be done by them in regard to Lizzie than just to -get rid of her. But Lucy's good fortune, so unexpected, and by her so -frankly owned as the very best fortune in the world that could have -befallen her, gave an excitement to them all. There could be no lessons -that morning for Nina, and the usual studies of the family were altogether -interrupted. Lady Fawn purred, and congratulated, and gave good advice, -and declared that any other home for Lucy before her marriage would now be -quite out of the question. "Of course it wouldn't do for you to go, even -to Clara," said Lady Fawn, who seemed to think that there still might be -some delay before Frank Greystock would be ready for his wife. "You know, -my dear, that he isn't rich; not for a member of Parliament. I suppose he -makes a good income, but I have always heard that he was a little backward -when he began. Of course, you know, nobody need be in a hurry." Then Lucy -began to think that if Frank should wish to postpone his marriage, say for -three or four years, she might even yet become a burden on her friend. -"But don't you be frightened," continued Lady Fawn; "you shall never want -a home as long as I have one to give you. We shall soon find out what are -Mr. Greystock's ideas; and unless he is very unreasonable we'll make -things fit." - -Then there came a message to Lucy from Lady Eustace. "If you please, Miss, -Lady Eustace will be glad to see you for a minute up in her room before -she starts." So Lucy was torn away from the thoughts of her own happiness, -and taken upstairs to Lady Eustace. "You have heard that I am going?" said -Lizzie. - -"Yes; I heard you were to go this morning." - -"And you have heard why? I'm sure you will not deceive me, Lucy. Where am -I to look for truth, if not to an old, old friend like you?" - -"Why should I deceive you, Lizzie?" - -"Why, indeed? Only that all people do. The world is so false, so material, -so worldly! One gives out one's heart and gets in return nothing but dust -and ashes--nothing but ashes and dust. Oh, I have been so disappointed in -Lady Fawn." - -"You know she is my dearest friend," said Lucy. - -"Pshaw! I know that you have worked for her like a slave, and that she has -paid you a bare pittance." - -"She has been more like a mother to me than anything else," said Lucy -angrily. - -"Because you have been tame. It does not suit me to be tame. It is not my -plan to be tame. Have you heard the cause of the disagreement between Lord -Fawn and me?" - -"Well--no." - -"Tell the truth, Lucy." - -"How dare you tell me to tell the truth? Of course I tell the truth. I -believe it is something about some property which he wants you to give -back to somebody; but I don't know any more." - -"Yes, my dear husband, Sir Florian, who understood me--whom I idolised-- -who seemed to have been made for me--gave me a present. Lord Fawn is -pleased to say that he does not approve of my keeping any gift from my -late lord. Considering that he intends to live upon the wealth which Sir -Florian was generous enough to bestow upon me, this does seem to be -strange! Of course I resented such interference. Would not you have -resented it?" - -"I don't know," said Lucy, who thought that she could bring herself to -comply with any request made to her by Frank Greystock. - -"Any woman who had a spark of spirit would resent it, and I have resented -it. I have told Lord Fawn that I will on no account part with the rich -presents which my adored Florian showered upon me in his generosity. It is -not for their richness that I keep them, but because they are, for his -sake, so inexpressively dear to me. If Lord Fawn chooses to be jealous of -a necklace, he must be jealous." Lucy, who had in truth heard but a small -fragment of the story--just so much of it as Lydia had learned from the -discreet Amelia, who herself had but a very hazy idea of the facts--did -not quite know how much of the tale, as it was now told to her, might be -true and how much false. After a certain fashion she and Lizzie Eustace -called themselves friends. But she did not believe her friend to be -honest, and was aware that in some matters her friend would condescend--to -fib. Lizzie's poetry, and romance, and high feelings had never had the -ring of true soundness in Lucy's ears. But her imagination was not strong -enough to soar to the altitude of the lies which Lizzie was now telling. -She did believe that the property which Lizzie was called upon to restore -was held to be objectionable by Lord Fawn simply because it had reached -Lizzie from the hands of her late husband. "What do you think of such -conduct as that?" asked Lady Eustace. - -"Won't it do if you lock them up instead of wearing them?" asked Lucy. - -"I have never dreamed of wearing them." - -"I don't understand about such things," said Lucy, determined not to -impute any blame to one of the Fawn family. - -"It is tyranny, sheer tyranny," continued the other, "and he will find -that I am not the woman to yield to it. No. For love I could give up -everything--but nothing from fear. He has told me in so many words that he -does not intend to go on with his engagement!" - -"Has he indeed?" - -"But I intend that he shall. If he thinks that I am going to be thrown -over because he takes ideas of that kind into his head, he's mistaken. He -shall know that I'm not to be made a plaything of like that. I'll tell you -what you can do for me, Lucy." - -"What can I do for you?" - -"There is no one in the world I trust more thoroughly than I do you," said -Lizzie, "and hardly any one that I love so well. Think how long we have -known each other! And you may be sure of this: I always have been, and -always will be, your friend with my cousin Frank." - -"I don't want anything of that kind," said Lucy, "and never did." - -"Nobody has so much influence with Frank as I. Just do you write to me to- -morrow, and the next day, and the day after, a mere line, you know, to -tell me how the land lies here." - -"There will be nothing to tell." - -"Yes, there will--ever so much. They will be talking about me every hour. -If you'll be true to me, Lucy, in this business, I'll make you the -handsomest present you ever saw in your life. I'll give you a hundred- -guinea brooch; I will, indeed. You shall have the money and buy it -yourself." - -"A what!" said Lucy. - -"A hundred guineas to do what you please with!" - -"You mean thing!" said Lucy. "I didn't think there was a woman so mean as -that in the world. I'm not surprised now at Lord Fawn. Pick up what I hear -and send it you in letters, and then be paid money for it!" - -"Why not? It's all to do good." - -"How can you have thought to ask me to do such a thing? How can you bring -yourself to think so badly of people? I'd sooner cut my hand off; and as -for you, Lizzie, I think you are mean and wicked to conceive such a thing. -And now good-by." So saying, she left the room, giving her dear friend no -time for further argument. - -Lady Eustace got away that morning, not in time, indeed, for the 11:30 -train, but at such an hour as to make it unnecessary that she should -appear at the early dinner. The saying of farewell was very cold and -ceremonious. Of course there was no word as to any future visit--no word -as to any future events whatever. They all shook hands with her, and -special injunctions were given to the coachman to drive her safely to the -station. At this ceremony Lucy was not present. Lydia had asked her to -come down and say good-by; but Lucy refused. "I saw her in her own room," -said Lucy. - -"And was it all very affectionate?" Lydia asked. - -"Well, no; it was not affectionate at all." This was all that Lucy said, -and thus Lady Eustace completed her visit to Fawn Court. - -The letters were taken away for the post at eight o'clock in the evening, -and before that time it was necessary that Lucy should write to her lover. -"Lady Fawn," she said in a whisper, "may I tell him to come here?" - -"Certainly, my dear. You had better tell him to call on me. Of course -he'll see you, too, when he comes," - -"I think he'd want to see me," said Lucy, "and I'm sure I should want to -see him." Then she wrote her answer to Frank's letter. She allowed herself -an hour for the happy task; but, though the letter when written was short, -the hour hardly sufficed for the writing of it. - -"DEAR MR. GREYSTOCK:"--There was matter for her of great consideration -before she could get even so far as this; but after biting her pen for ten -minutes, during which she pictured to herself how pleasant it would be to -call him Frank when he should have told her to do so, and had found, upon -repeated whispered trials, that of all names it was the pleasantest to -pronounce, she decided upon refraining from writing it now--"Lady Fawn has -seen your letter to me--the dearest letter that ever was written--and she -says that you may call upon _her_. But you mustn't go away without seeing -_me too_." Then there was great difficulty as to the words to be used by -her for the actual rendering herself up to him as his future wife. At last -the somewhat too Spartan simplicity of her nature prevailed, and the words -were written very plain, and very short. "I love you better than all the -world, and I will be your wife. It shall be the happiness of my life to -try to deserve you. - -"I am, with all my heart, - -"Most affectionately your own - -"LUCY." - -When it was written it did not content her. But the hour was over, and the -letters must go. "I suppose it'll do," she said to herself. "He'll know -what it means." And so the letter was sent. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -CERTAINLY AN HEIRLOOM - - -The burden of his position was so heavy on Lord Fawn's mind that, on the -Monday morning after leaving Fawn Court, he was hardly as true to the -affairs of India as he himself would have wished. He was resolved to do -what was right--if only he could find out what would be the right thing in -his present difficulty. Not to break his word, not to be unjust, not to -deviate by a hair's breadth from that line of conduct which would be -described as "honourable" in the circle to which he belonged; not to give -his political enemies an opportunity for calumny--this was all in all to -him. The young widow was very lovely and very rich, and it would have -suited him well to marry her. It would still suit him well to do so, if -she would make herself amenable to reason and the laws. He had assured -himself that he was very much in love with her, and had already, in his -imagination, received the distinguished heads of his party at Portray -Castle. But he would give all this up--love, income, beauty, and castle-- -without a doubt, rather than find himself in the mess of having married a -wife who had stolen a necklace, and who would not make restitution. He -might marry her, and insist on giving it up afterwards; but he foresaw -terrible difficulties in the way of such an arrangement. Lady Eustace was -self-willed, and had already told him that she did not intend to keep the -jewels in his house--but in her own! What should he do, so that no human -being--not the most bigoted Tory that ever expressed scorn for a Whig -lord--should be able to say that he had done wrong? He was engaged to the -lady, and could not simply change his mind and give no reason. He believed -in Mr. Camperdown; but he could hardly plead that belief, should he -hereafter be accused of heartless misconduct. For aught he knew Lady -Eustace might bring an action against him for breach of promise, and -obtain a verdict and damages, and annihilate him as an Under-Secretary. -How should he keep his hands quite clean? - -Frank Greystock was, as far as he knew, Lizzie's nearest relative in -London. The dean was her uncle, but then the dean was down at Bobsborough. -It might be necessary for him to go down to Bobsborough; but in the mean -time he would see Frank Greystock. Greystock was as bitter a Tory as any -in England. Greystock was the very man who had attacked him, Lord Fawn, in -the House of Commons respecting the Sawab--making the attack quite -personal--and that without a shadow of a cause! Within the short straight -grooves of Lord Fawn's intellect the remembrance of this supposed wrong -was always running up and down, renewing its own soreness. He regarded -Greystock as an enemy who would lose no opportunity of injuring him. In -his weakness and littleness he was quite unable to judge of other men by -himself. He would not go a hair's breadth astray, if he knew it; but -because Greystock had, in debate, called him timid and tyrannical, he -believed that Greystock would stop short of nothing that might injure him. -And yet he must appeal to Greystock. He did appeal, and in answer to his -appeal Frank came to him at the India House. But Frank, before he saw Lord -Fawn, had, as was fitting, been with his cousin. - -Nothing was decided at this interview. Lord Fawn became more than ever -convinced that the member for Bobsborough was his determined enemy, and -Frank was more convinced than ever that Lord Fawn was an empty, stiff- -necked, self-sufficient prig. - -Greystock, of course, took his cousin's part. He was there to do so; and -he himself did not really know whether Lizzie was or was not entitled to -the diamonds. The lie which she had first fabricated for the benefit of -Mr. Benjamin when she had the jewels valued, and which she had since told -with different degrees of precision to various people--to Lady Linlithgow, -to Mr. Camperdown, to Lucy, and to Lord Fawn--she now repeated with -increased precision to her cousin. Sir Florian, in putting the trinket -into her hands, had explained to her that it was very valuable, and that -she was to regard it as her own peculiar property. "If it was an heirloom -he couldn't do it," Frank had said, with all the confidence of a -practising barrister. - -"He made it over as an heirloom to me," said Lizzie, with plaintive -tenderness. - -"That's nonsense, dear Lizzie." Then she smiled sweetly on him, and patted -the back of his hand with hers. She was very gentle with him, and bore his -assumed superiority with pretty meekness. "He could not make it over as an -heirloom to you. If it was his to give, he could give it to you." - -"It was his--certainly." - -"That is just what I cannot tell as yet, and what must be found out. If -the diamonds formed part of an heirloom--and there is evidence that it is -so--you must give them up. Sir Florian could only give away what was his -own to give." - -"But Lord Fawn had no right to dictate." - -"Certainly not," said Frank; and then he made a promise, which he knew to -be rash, that he would stand by his pretty cousin in this affair. "I don't -see why you should assume that Lady Eustace is keeping property that -doesn't belong to her," he said to Lord Fawn. - -"I go by what Camperdown tells me," said Lord Fawn. - -"Mr. Camperdown is a very excellent attorney, and a most respectable man," -said Greystock. "I have nothing on earth to say against Mr. Camperdown. -But Mr. Camperdown isn't the law and the prophets, nor yet can we allow -him to be judge and jury in such a case as this." - -"Surely, Mr. Greystock, you wouldn't wish it to go before a jury." - -"You don't understand me, Lord Fawn. If any claim be really made for these -jewels by Mr. John Eustace on the part of the heir, or on behalf of the -estate, a statement had better be submitted to counsel. The family deeds -must be inspected, and no doubt counsel would agree in telling my cousin, -Lady Eustace, what she should or what she should not do. In the mean time, -I understand that you are engaged to marry her." - -"I was engaged to her, certainly," said Lord Fawn. - -"You can hardly mean to assert, my lord, that you intend to be untrue to -your promise, and to throw over your own engagement because my cousin has -expressed her wish to retain property which she believes to be her own!" -This was said in a tone which made Lord Fawn surer than ever that -Greystock was his enemy to the knife. Personally, he was not a coward; and -he knew enough of the world to be quite sure that Greystock would not -attempt any personal encounter. But morally, Lord Fawn was a coward, and -he did fear that the man before him would work him some bitter injury. -"You cannot mean that," continued Frank, "and you will probably allow me -to assure my cousin that she misunderstood you in the matter." - -"I'd sooner see Mr. Camperdown again before I say anything." - -"I cannot understand, Lord Fawn, that a gentleman should require an -attorney to tell him what to do in such a case as this." They were -standing now, and Lord Fawn's countenance was heavy, troubled, and full of -doubt. He said nothing, and was probably altogether unaware how eloquent -was his face. "My cousin, Lady Eustace," continued Frank, "must not be -kept in this suspense. I agree on her behalf that her title to these -trinkets must be made the subject of inquiry by persons adequate to form a -judgment. Of course, I, as her relative, shall take no part in that -inquiry. But as her relative, I must demand from you an admission that -your engagement with her cannot in any way be allowed to depend on the -fate of those jewels. She has chosen to accept you as her future husband, -and I am bound to see that she is treated with good faith, honour, and -fair observance." - -Frank made his demand very well, while Lord Fawn was looking like a -whipped dog. "Of course," said his lordship, "all I want is, that the -right thing should be done." - -"The right thing will be done. My cousin wishes to keep nothing that is -not her own. I may tell her, then, that she will receive from you an -assurance that you have had no intention of departing from your word." -After this, Lord Fawn made some attempt at a stipulation that this -assurance to Lizzie was to be founded on the counter-assurance given to -him that the matter of the diamonds should be decided by proper legal -authority; but Frank would not submit to this, and at last the Under- -Secretary yielded. The engagement was to remain in force. Counsel were to -be employed. The two lovers were not to see each other just at present. -And when the matter had been decided by the lawyers, Lord Fawn was to -express his regret for having suspected his lady-love! That was the verbal -agreement, according to Frank Greystock's view of it. Lord Fawn, no doubt, -would have declared that he had never consented to the latter stipulation. - -About a week after this there was a meeting at Mr. Camperdown's chambers. -Greystock, as his cousin's friend, attended to hear what Mr. Camperdown -had to say in the presence of Lord Fawn and John Eustace. He, Frank, had -in the mean time been down to Richmond, had taken Lucy to his arms as his -future bride, and had been closeted with Lady Fawn. As a man who was doing -his duty by Lucy Morris, he was welcomed and made much of by her ladyship; -but it had been impossible to leave Lizzie's name altogether unmentioned, -and Frank had spoken as the champion of his cousin. Of course there had -arisen something of ill-feeling between the two. Lady Fawn had taught -herself to hate Lizzie, and was desirous that the match should be over, -diamonds or no diamonds. She could not quite say this to her visitor, but -she showed her feeling very plainly. Frank was courteous, cold, and -resolute in presuming, or pretending to presume, that as a matter of -course the marriage would take place. Lady Fawn intended to be civil, but -she could not restrain her feeling; and though she did not dare to say -that her son would have nothing more to do with Lizzie Eustace, she showed -very plainly that she intended to work with that object. Of course the two -did not part as cordial friends, and of course poor Lucy perceived that it -was so. Before the meeting took place, Mr. Camperdown had been at work -looking over old deeds. It is undoubtedly the case that things often -become complicated which, from the greatness of their importance, should -have been kept clear as running water. The diamonds in question had been -bought, with other jewels, by Sir Florian's grandfather, on the occasion -of his marriage with the daughter of a certain duke, on which occasion old -family jewels, which were said to have been heirlooms, were sold or given -in exchange as part value for those then purchased. This grandfather, who -had also been Sir Florian in his time, had expressly stated in his will -that these jewels were to be regarded as an heirloom in the family, and -had as such left them to his eldest son, and to that son's eldest son, -should such a child be born. His eldest son had possessed them, but not -that son's son. There was such a Eustace born, but he had died before his -father. The younger son of that old Sir Florian had then succeeded as Sir -Thomas, and he was the father of that Florian who had married Lizzie -Eustace. That last Sir Florian had therefore been the fourth in succession -from the old Sir Florian by whom the will had been made, and who had -directed that these jewels should be regarded as heirlooms in the family. -The two intermediate baronets had made no allusion to the diamonds in any -deeds executed by them. Indeed, Sir Florian's father had died without a -will. There were other jewels, larger but much less valuable than the -diamonds, still in the hands of the Messrs. Garnett, as to which no -question was raised. The late Sir Florian had, by his will, left all the -property in his house at Portray to his widow, but all property elsewhere -to his heir. This was what Mr. Camperdown had at last learned, but he had -been forced to admit to himself, while learning this, that there was -confusion. - -He was confident enough, however, that there was no difficulty in the -matter. The Messrs. Garnett were able to say that the necklace had been in -their keeping, with various other jewels still in their possession, from -the time of the death of the late Lady Eustace, up to the marriage of the -late Sir Florian, her son. They stated the date on which the jewels were -given up to be the 24th of September, which was the day after Sir -Florian's return from Scotland with his bride. Lizzie's first statement -had coincided with this entry in the Messrs. Garnett's books; but latterly -she had asserted that the necklace had been given to her in Scotland. When -Mr. Camperdown examined the entry himself in the jeweller's book, he found -the figures to be so blotted that they might represent either the 4th or -24th September. Now, the 4th September had been the day preceding Sir -Florian's marriage. John Eustace only knew that he had seen the necklace -worn in Scotland by his mother. The bishop only knew that he had often -seen them on the neck of his sister-in-law when, as was very often the -case, she appeared in full-blown society. Mr. Camperdown believed that he -had traced two stories to Lizzie--one, repeated more than once, that the -diamonds had been given to her in London, and a second, made to himself, -that they had been given to her at Portray. He himself believed that they -had never been in Scotland since the death of the former Lady Eustace; but -he was quite confident that he could trust altogether to the disposition -made of them by the old Sir Florian. There could be no doubt as to these -being the diamonds there described, although the setting had been altered. -Old Mr. Garnett stated that he would swear to them if he saw the necklace. - -"You cannot suppose that Lady Eustace wishes to keep anything that is not -her own," said Frank Greystock. - -"Of course not," said John Eustace. - -"Nobody imagines it," said Mr. Camperdown. Lord Fawn, who felt that he -ought not to be there, and who did not know whether he might with a better -grace take Lizzie's part or a part against her, said nothing. "But," -continued Mr. Camperdown, "there is luckily no doubt as to the facts. The -diamonds in question formed a part of a set of most valuable ornaments -settled in the family by Sir Florian Eustace in 1799. The deed was drawn -up by my grandfather, and is now here. I do not know how we are to have -further proof. Will you look at the deed, Mr. Greystock, and at the will?" -Frank suggested that as it might probably be expedient to take advice on -the subject professionally, he had rather not look at the deed. Anything -which he might say, on looking at the document now, could have no weight. -"But why should any advice be necessary," said Mr. Camperdown, "when the -matter is so clear?" - -"My dear sir," said Frank, "my cousin, Lady Eustace, is strong in her -confidence that her late husband intended to give them to her as her own, -and that he would not have done this without the power of doing so." Now -Mr. Camperdown was quite sure that Lizzie was lying in this, and could -therefore make no adequate answer. "Your experience must probably have -told you," continued Frank, "that there is considerable difficulty in -dealing with the matter of heirlooms." - -"I never heard of any such difficulty," said Mr. Camperdown. - -"People generally understand it all so clearly," said Lord Fawn. - -"The late Sir Florian does not appear to have understood it very clearly," -said Frank. - -"Let her put them into the hands of any indifferent person or firm till -the matter is decided," said Mr. Camperdown. "They will be much safer so -than in her keeping." - -"I think they are quite safe," said Frank. - -And this was all that took place at that meeting. As Mr. Camperdown said -to John Eustace, it was manifest enough that she meant "to hang on to -them." "I only hope Lord Fawn will not be fool enough to marry her," said -Mr. Camperdown. Lord Fawn himself was of the same way of thinking; but -then how was he to clear his character of the charge which would be -brought against him; and how was he to stand his ground before Frank -Greystock? - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE DIAMONDS ARE SEEN IN PUBLIC - - -Let it not be supposed that Lady Eustace during these summer weeks was -living the life of a recluse. The London season was in its full splendour, -and she was by no means a recluse. During the first year of her widowhood -she had been every inch a widow, as far as crape would go, and a quiet -life either at Bobsborough or Portray Castle. During this year her child -was born, and she was in every way thrown upon her good behaviour, living -with bishops' wives and deans' daughters. Two years of retreat from the -world is generally thought to be the proper thing for a widow. Lizzie had -not quite accomplished her two years before she reopened the campaign in -Mount Street with very small remnants of weeds, and with her crape brought -down to a minimum; but she was young and rich, and the world is aware that -a woman of twenty-two can hardly afford to sacrifice two whole years. In -the matter of her widowhood Lizzie did not encounter very much reproach. -She was not shunned, or so ill spoken of as to have a widely-spread bad -name among the streets and squares in which her carriage-wheels rolled. -People called her a flirt, held up their hands in surprise at Sir -Florian's foolish generosity--for the accounts of Lizzie's wealth were -greatly exaggerated--and said that of course she would marry again. - -The general belief which often seizes upon the world in regard to some -special falsehood is very surprising. Everybody on a sudden adopts an idea -that some particular man is over head and ears in debt, so that he can -hardly leave his house for fear of the bailiffs; or that some ill-fated -woman is cruelly ill-used by her husband; or that some eldest son has -ruined his father; whereas the man doesn't owe a shilling, the woman never -hears a harsh word from her lord, and the eldest son in question has never -succeeded in obtaining a shilling beyond his allowance. One of the lies -about London this season was founded on the extent of Lady Eustace's -jointure. Indeed the lie went to state that the jointure was more than a -jointure. It was believed that the property in Ayrshire was her own, to do -what she pleased with it. That the property in Ayrshire was taken at -double its value was a matter of course. It had been declared, at the time -of his marriage, that Sir Florian had been especially generous to his -penniless wife, and the generosity was magnified in the ordinary way. No -doubt Lizzie's own diligence had done much to propagate the story as to -her positive ownership of Portray. Mr. Camperdown had been very busy -denying this. John Eustace had denied it whenever occasion offered. The -bishop in his quiet way had denied it. Lady Linlithgow had denied it. But -the lie had been set on foot and had thriven, and there was hardly a man -about town who didn't know that Lady Eustace had eight or nine thousand a -year, altogether at her own disposal, down in Scotland. Of course a woman -so endowed, so rich, so beautiful, so clever, so young, would marry again, -and would marry well. No doubt, added to this there was a feeling that -"Lizzie," as she was not uncommonly called by people who had hardly ever -seen her, had something amiss with it all. "I don't know where it is she's -lame," said that very clever man, Captain Boodle, who had lately -reappeared among his military friends at his club, "but she don't go flat -all round." - -"She has the devil of a temper, no doubt," said Lieutenant Griggs. - -"No mouth, I should say," said Boodle. It was thus that Lizzie was talked -about at the clubs; but she was asked to dinners and balls, and gave -little dinners herself, and to a certain extent was the fashion. Everybody -had declared that of course she would marry again, and now it was known -everywhere that she was engaged to Lord Fawn. - -"Poor dear Lord Fawn!" said Lady Glencora Palliser to her dear friend -Madame Max Goesler; "do you remember how violently he was in love with -Violet Effingham two years ago?" - -"Two years is a long time, Lady Glencora; and Violet Effingham has chosen -another husband." - -"But isn't this a fall for him? Violet was the sweetest girl out, and at -one time I really thought she meant to take him." - -"I thought she meant to take another man whom she did not take," said Mme. -Goesler, who had her own recollections, who was a widow herself, and who, -at the period to which Lady Glencora was referring, had thought that -perhaps she might cease to be a widow. Not that she had ever suggested to -herself that Lord Fawn might be her second husband. - -"Poor Lord Fawn!" continued Lady Glencora. "I suppose he is terribly in -want of money." - -"But surely Lady Eustace is very pretty." - -"Yes; she is very pretty; nay more, she is quite lovely to look at. And -she is clever, very. And she is rich, very. But----" - -"Well, Lady Glencora. What does your 'but' mean?" - -"Who ever explains a 'but'? You're a great deal too clever, Mme. Goesler, -to want any explanation. And I couldn't explain it. I can only say I'm -sorry for poor Lord Fawn, who is a gentleman, but will never set the -Thames on fire." - -"No, indeed. All the same, I like Lord Fawn extremely," said Mme. Goesler, -"and I think he's just the man to marry Lady Eustace. He's always at his -office or at the House." - -"A man may be a great deal at his office, and a great deal more at the -House than Lord Fawn," said Lady Glencora laughing, "and yet think about -his wife, my dear." For of all men known, no man spent more hours at the -House or in his office than did Lady Glencora's husband, Mr. Palliser, who -at this time, and had now for more than two years, filled the high place -of Chancellor of the Exchequer. - -This conversation took place in Mme. Goesler's little drawing-room in Park -Lane; but, three days after this, the same two ladies met again at the -house then occupied by Lady Chiltern in Portman Square--Lady Chiltern, -with whom, as Violet Effingham, poor Lord Fawn had been much in love. "I -think it the nicest match in the world for him," Lady Chiltern had said to -Mme. Goesler. - -"But have you heard of the diamonds?" asked Lady Glencora. - -"What diamonds?" "Whose diamonds?" Neither of the others had heard of the -diamonds, and Lady Glencora was able to tell her story. Lady Eustace had -found all the family jewels belonging to the Eustace family in the strong -plate-room at Portray Castle, and had taken possession of them as property -found in her own house. John Eustace and the bishop had combined in -demanding them on behalf of the heir, and a lawsuit had been commenced! -The diamonds were the most costly belonging to any commoner in England, -and had been valued at twenty-four thousand pounds! Lord Fawn had -retreated from his engagement the moment he heard that any doubt was -thrown on Lady Eustace's right to their possession! Lady Eustace had -declared her intention of bringing an action against Lord Fawn, and had -also secreted the diamonds! The reader will be aware that this statement -was by no means an accurate history of the difficulty as far as it had as -yet progressed. It was, indeed, absolutely false in every detail; but it -sufficed to show that the matter was becoming public. - -"You don't mean to say that Lord Fawn is off?" asked Mme. Goesler. - -"I do," said Lady Glencora. - -"Poor Lord Fawn!" exclaimed Lady Chiltern. "It really seems as though he -never would be settled." - -"I don't think he has courage enough for such conduct as that," said Mme. -Goesler. - -"And besides, Lady Eustace's income is quite certain," said Lady Chiltern, -"and poor dear Lord Fawn does want money so badly." - -"But it is very disagreeable," said Lady Glencora, "to believe that your -wife has got the finest diamonds in England, and then to find that she has -only--stolen them. I think Lord Fawn is right. If a man does marry for -money, he should have the money. I wonder she ever took him. There is no -doubt about her beauty, and she might have done better." - -"I won't hear Lord Fawn belittled," said Lady Chiltern. - -"Done better!" said Mme. Goesler. "How could she have done better? He is a -peer, and her son would be a peer. I don't think she could have done -better." Lady Glencora in her time had wished to marry a man who had -sought her for her money. Lady Chiltern in her time had refused to be Lady -Fawn. Mme. Goesler in her time had declined to marry an English peer. -There was, therefore, something more of interest in the conversation to -each of them than was quite expressed in the words spoken. "Is she to be -at your party on Friday, Lady Glencora?" asked Mme. Goesler. - -"She has said she would come, and so has Lord Fawn; for that matter, Lord -Fawn dines with us. She'll find that out, and then she'll stay away." - -"Not she," said Lady Chiltern. "She'll come for the sake of the bravado. -She's not the woman to show the white feather." - -"If he's ill-using her she's quite right," said Mme. Goesler. - -"And wear the very diamonds in dispute," said Lady Chiltern. It was thus -that the matter was discussed among ladies in the town. - -"Is Fawn's marriage going on?" This question was asked of Mr. Legge Wilson -by Barrington Erle. Mr. Legge Wilson was the Secretary of State for India, -and Barrington Erle was in the Government. - -"Upon my word I don't know," said Mr. Wilson. "The work goes on at the -office; that's all I know about Fawn. He hasn't told me of his marriage, -and therefore I haven't spoken to him about it." - -"He hasn't made it official?" - -"The papers haven't come before me yet," said Mr. Wilson. - -"When they do they'll be very awkward papers, as far as I hear," said -Barrington Erle. "There is no doubt they were engaged, and I believe there -is no doubt that he has declared off, and refused to give any reason." - -"I suppose the money is not all there," suggested Mr. Wilson. - -"There's a queer story going about as to some diamonds. No one knows whom -they belong to, and they say that Fawn has accused her of stealing them. -He wants to get hold of them, and she won't give them up. I believe the -lawyers are to have a shy at it. I'm sorry for Fawn. It'll do him a deal -of mischief." - -"You'll find he won't come out much amiss," said Mr. Legge Wilson. "He's -as cautious a man as there is in London. If there is anything wrong----" - -"There's a great deal wrong," said Barrington Erle. - -"You'll find it will be on her side." - -"And you'll find also that she'll contrive that all the blame shall lie -upon him. She's clever enough for anything! Who's to be the new bishop?" - -"I have not heard Gresham say as yet; Jones, I should think," said Mr. -Wilson. - -"And who is Jones?" - -"A clergyman, I suppose, of the safe sort. I don't know that anything else -is necessary." From which it will be seen that Mr. Wilson had his own -opinion about church matters, and also that people very high up in the -world were concerning themselves about poor Lizzie's affairs. - -Lady Eustace did go to Lady Glencora's evening party, in spite of Mr. -Camperdown and all her difficulties. Lady Chiltern had been quite right in -saying that Lizzie was not the woman to show the white feather. She went, -knowing that she would meet Lord Fawn, and she did wear the diamonds. It -was the first time that they had been round her neck since the occasion in -respect to which Sir Florian had placed them in her hands, and it had not -been without much screwing up of her courage that she had resolved to -appear on this occasion with the much talked-of ornament upon her person. -It was now something over a fortnight since she had parted with Lord Fawn -at Fawn Court; and, although they were still presumed to be engaged to -marry each other, and were both living in London, she had not seen him -since. A sort of message had reached her, through Frank Greystock, to the -effect that Lord Fawn thought it as well that they should not meet till -the matter was settled. Stipulations had been made by Frank on her behalf, -and this had been inserted among them. She had received the message with -scorn--with a mixture of scorn and gratitude--of scorn in regard to the -man who had promised to marry her, and of affectionate gratitude to the -cousin who had made the arrangement. "Of course I shall not wish to see -him while he chooses to entertain such an idea," she had said, "but I -shall not keep out of his way. You would not wish me to keep out of his -way, Frank?" When she received a card for Lady Glencora's party, very soon -after this, she was careful to answer it in such a manner as to impress -Lady Glencora with a remembrance of her assent. Lord Fawn would probably -be there, unless he remained away in order to avoid her. Then she had ten -days in which to make up her mind as to wearing the diamonds. Her courage -was good; but then her ignorance was so great! She did not know whether -Mr. Camperdown might not contrive to have them taken by violence from her -neck, even on Lady Glencora's stairs. Her best security, so she thought, -would be in the fact that Mr. Camperdown would not know of her purpose. -She told no one, not even Miss Macnulty, but she appeared before that -lady, arrayed in all her beauty, just as she was about to descend to her -carriage. - -"You've got the necklace on!" said Miss Macnulty. - -"Why should I not wear my own necklace?" she asked, with assumed anger. - -Lady Glencora's rooms were already very full when Lizzie entered them, but -she was without a gentleman, and room was made for her to pass quickly up -the stairs. The diamonds had been recognised by many before she had -reached the drawing-room; not that these very diamonds were known, or that -there was a special memory for that necklace; but the subject had been so -generally discussed, that the blaze of the stones immediately brought it -to the minds of men and women. "There she is, with poor Eustace's twenty -thousand pounds round her neck," said Laurence Fitzgibbon to his friend -Barrington Erle. "And there is Lord Fawn going to look after them," -replied the other. - -Lord Fawn thought it right, at any rate, to look after his bride. Lady -Glencora had whispered into his ear before they went down to dinner that -Lady Eustace would be there in the evening, so that he might have the -option of escaping or remaining. Could he have escaped without any one -knowing that he had escaped, he would not have gone up-stairs after -dinner; but he knew that he was observed; he knew that people were talking -about him; and he did not like it to be said that he had run away. He went -up, thinking much of it all, and as soon as he saw Lady Eustace he made -his way to her and accosted her. Many eyes were upon them, but no ear -probably heard how infinitely unimportant were the words which they spoke -to each other. Her manner was excellent. She smiled and gave him her hand ---just her hand without the slightest pressure--and spoke a half-whispered -word, looking into his face, but betraying nothing by her look. Then he -asked her whether she would dance. Yes; she would stand up for a -quadrille; and they did stand up for a quadrille. As she danced with no -one else, it was clear that she treated Lord Fawn as her lover. As soon as -the dance was done she took his arm and moved for a few minutes about the -room with him. She was very conscious of the diamonds, but she did not -show the feeling in her face. He also was conscious of them, and he did -show it. He did not recognise the necklace, but he knew well that this was -the very bone of contention. They were very beautiful, and seemed to him -to outshine all other jewelry in the room. And Lady Eustace was a woman of -whom it might almost be said that she ought to wear diamonds. She was made -to sparkle, to be bright with outside garniture--to shine and glitter, and -be rich in apparel. The only doubt might be whether paste diamonds might -not better suit her character. But these were not paste, and she did shine -and glitter and was very rich. It must not be brought as an accusation -against Lady Glencora's guests that they pressed round to look at the -necklace. Lady Glencora's guests knew better than to do that. But there -was some slight ferment--slight, but still felt both by Lord Fawn and by -Lady Eustace. Eyes were turned upon the diamonds, and there were whispers -here and there. Lizzie bore it very well; but Lord Fawn was uncomfortable. - -"I like her for wearing them," said Lady Glencora to Lady Chiltern. - -"Yes--if she means to keep them. I don't pretend, however, to know -anything about it. You see the match isn't off." - -"I suppose not. What do you think I did? He dined here, you know, and, -before going down-stairs, I told him that she was coming. I thought it -only fair." - -"And what did he say?" - -"I took care that he shouldn't have to say anything; but, to tell the -truth, I didn't expect him to come up." - -"There can't be any quarrel at all," said Lady Chiltern. - -"I'm not sure of that," said Lady Glencora. "They are not so very loving." - -Lady Eustace made the most of her opportunity. Soon after the quadrille -was over she asked Lord Fawn to get her carriage for her. Of course he got -it, and of course he put her into it, passing up and down stairs twice in -his efforts on her behalf. And of course all the world saw what he was -doing. Up to the last moment not a word had been spoken between them that -might not have passed between the most ordinary acquaintance; but, as she -took her seat, she put her face forward and did say a word. "You had -better come to me soon," she said. - -"I will," said Lord Fawn. - -"Yes; you had better come soon. All this is wearing me--perhaps more than -you think." - -"I will come soon," said Lord Fawn, and then he returned among Lady -Glencora's guests, very uncomfortable. Lizzie got home in safety and -locked up her diamonds in the iron box. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -AND I HAVE NOTHING TO GIVE - - -It was now the end of June, and Frank Greystock had been as yet but once -at Fawn Court since he had written to Lucy Morris asking her to be his -wife. That was three weeks since, and as the barrier against him at Fawn -Court had been removed by Lady Fawn herself, the Fawn girls thought that -as a lover he was very slack; but Lucy was not in the least annoyed. Lucy -knew that it was all right; for Frank, as he took his last walk round the -shrubbery with her during that visit, had given her to understand that -there was a little difference between him and Lady Fawn in regard to -Lizzie Eustace. "I am her only relative in London," Frank had said. - -"Lady Linlithgow," suggested Lucy. - -"They have quarrelled, and the old woman is as bitter as gall. There is no -one else to stand up for her, and I must see that she isn't ill-used. -Women do hate each other so virulently, and Lady Fawn hates her future -daughter-in-law." Lucy did not in the least grudge her lover's assistance -to his cousin. There was nothing of jealousy in her feeling. She thought -that Lizzie was unworthy of Frank's goodness, but on such an occasion as -this she would not say so. She told him nothing of the bribe that had been -offered her, nor on that subject had she said a word to any of the Fawns. -She understood, too, that as Frank had declared his purpose of supporting -Lizzie, it might be as well that he should see just at present as little -of Lady Fawn as possible. Not a word, however, had Lady Fawn said to Lucy -disparaging her lover for his conduct. It was quite understood now at Fawn -Court, by all the girls, and no doubt by the whole establishment, that -Lizzie Eustace was to be regarded as an enemy. It was believed by them all -that Lord Fawn had broken off the match--or, at least, that he was -resolved to break it; but various stratagems were to be used, and terrible -engines of war were to be brought up if necessary, to prevent an alliance -which was now thought to be disreputable. Mrs. Hittaway had been hard at -work, and had found out something very like truth in regard to the whole -transaction with Mr. Benjamin. Perhaps Mrs. Hittaway had found out more -than was quite true as to poor Lizzie's former sins; but what she did find -out she used with all her skill, communicating her facts to her mother, to -Mr. Camperdown, and to her brother. Her brother had almost quarrelled with -her, but still she continued to communicate her facts. - -At this period Frank Greystock was certainly somewhat unreasonable in -reference to his cousin. At one time, as the reader will remember, he had -thought of asking her to be his wife--because she was rich; but even then -he had not thought well of her, had hardly believed her to be honest, and -had rejoiced when he found that circumstances rather than his own judgment -had rescued him from that evil. He had professed to be delighted when Lord -Fawn was accepted--as being happy to think that his somewhat dangerous -cousin was provided with so safe a husband; and, when he had first heard -of the necklace, he had expressed an opinion that of course it would be -given up. In all this then he had shown no strong loyalty to his cousin, -no very dear friendship, nothing to make those who knew him feel that he -would buckle on armour in her cause. But of late--and that, too, since his -engagement with Lucy--he had stood up very stoutly as her friend, and the -armour was being buckled on. He had not scrupled to say that he meant to -see her through this business with Lord Fawn, and had somewhat astonished -Mr. Camperdown by raising a doubt on the question of the necklace. - -"He can't but know that she has no more right to it than I have," Mr. -Camperdown had said to his son with indignation. Mr. Camperdown was -becoming unhappy about the necklace, not quite knowing how to proceed in -the matter. - -In the mean time Frank had obeyed his better instincts, and had asked Lucy -Morris to be his wife. He had gone to Fawn Court in compliance with a -promise to Lizzie Eustace that he would call upon her there. He had walked -with Lucy because he was at Fawn Court. And he had written to Lucy because -of the words he had spoken during the walk. In all this the matter had -arranged itself as such matters do, and there was nothing, in truth, to be -regretted. He really did love the girl with all his heart. It may, -perhaps, be said that he had never in truth loved any other woman. In the -best humours of his mind he would tell himself--had from old times told -himself often--that unless he married Lucy Morris he could never marry at -all. When his mother, knowing that poor Lucy was penniless, had, as -mothers will do, begged him to beware, he had spoken up for his love -honestly, declaring to her that in his eyes there was no woman living -equal to Lucy Morris. The reader has seen him with the words almost on his -tongue with which to offer his hand to his cousin, Lizzie Eustace, knowing -as he did so that his heart had been given to Lucy--knowing also that -Lucy's heart had been given to him! But he had not done it, and the better -humour had prevailed. - -Within the figure and frame and clothes and cuticle, within the bones and -flesh of many of us, there is but one person, a man or woman, with a -preponderance either of good or evil, whose conduct in any emergency may -be predicted with some assurance of accuracy by any one knowing the man or -woman. Such persons are simple, single, and perhaps generally safe. They -walk along lines in accordance with certain fixed instincts or principles, -and are to-day as they were yesterday, and will be to-morrow as they are -to-day. Lady Eustace was such a person, and so was Lucy Morris. Opposite -in their characters as the two poles, they were each of them a simple -entity; and any doubt or error in judging of the future conduct of either -of them would come from insufficient knowledge of the woman. But there are -human beings who, though of necessity single in body, are dual in -character; in whose breasts not only is evil always fighting against good, -but to whom evil is sometimes horribly, hideously evil, but is sometimes -also not hideous at all. Of such men it may be said that Satan obtains an -intermittent grasp, from which, when it is released, the rebound carries -them high amid virtuous resolutions and a thorough love of things good and -noble. Such men or women may hardly perhaps debase themselves with the -more vulgar vices. They will not be rogues, or thieves, or drunkards, or -perhaps liars; but ambition, luxury, self-indulgence, pride, and -covetousness will get a hold of them, and in various moods will be to them -virtues in lieu of vices. Such a man was Frank Greystock, who could walk -along the banks of the quiet, trout-giving Bob, at Bobsborough, whipping -the river with his rod, telling himself that the world lost for love would -be a bad thing well lost for a fine purpose; and who could also stand, -with his hands in his trousers pockets, looking down upon the pavement, in -the purlieus of the courts at Westminster, and swear to himself that he -would win the game, let the cost to his heart be what it might. What must -a man be who would allow some undefined feeling, some inward ache which he -calls a passion and cannot analyse, some desire which has come of instinct -and not of judgment, to interfere with all the projects of his intellect, -with all the work which he has laid out for his accomplishment? -Circumstances had thrown him into a path of life for which, indeed, his -means were insufficient, but which he regarded as of all paths the noblest -and the manliest. If he could be true to himself--with such truth as at -these moments would seem to him to be the truest truth--there was nothing -in rank, nothing in ambition, which might not be within his reach. He -might live with the highest, and best-educated, and the most beautiful; he -might assist in directing national councils by his intelligence; and might -make a name for himself which should be remembered in his country, and of -which men would read the records in the histories written in after ages. -But to do this he must walk warily. He, an embarrassed man, a man already -in debt, a man with no realised property coming to him in reversion, was -called upon to live, and to live as though at his ease, among those who -had been born to wealth. And, indeed, he had so cleverly learned the ways -of the wealthy that he hardly knew any longer how to live at his ease -among the poor. - -But had he walked warily when he went down to Richmond, and afterward, -sitting alone in the obscurity of his chamber, wrote the letter which had -made Lucy Morris so happy? It must be acknowledged that he did in truth -love the girl--that he was capable of a strong feeling. She was not -beautiful, hardly even pretty, small, in appearance almost insignificant, -quite penniless, a governess! He had often asked himself what it was that -had so vanquished him. She always wore a pale grey frock, with perhaps a -grey ribbon, never running into any bright form of clothing. She was -educated, very well educated; but she owned no great accomplishment. She -had not sung his heart away or ravished him with the harp. Even of her -words she was sparing, seeming to care more to listen than to speak; a -humble little thing to look at--one of whom you might say that she -regarded herself as well-placed if left in the background. Yet he had -found her out and knew her. He had recognised the treasure, and had -greatly desired to possess it. He had confessed to himself that, could -splendour and ambition be laid aside, that little thing would be all the -world to him. As he sat in court or in the House, patient from practice as -he half-listened to the ponderous speeches of advocates or politicians, he -would think of the sparkle in her eye, of the dimple in her chin, or the -lines of the mouth which could plead so eloquently, though with few words. -To sit on some high seat among his countrymen and also to marry Lucy -Morris, that would be a high ambition. He had chosen his way now, and she -was engaged to be his wife. - -As he thought of it after he had done it, it was not all happiness, all -contentment with him. He did feel that he had crippled himself--impeded -himself in running the race, as it were with a log round his leg. He had -offered to marry her, and he must do so at once, or almost at once, -because she could now find no other home but his. He knew, as well as did -Lady Fawn, that she could not go into another family as governess; and he -knew also that she ought not to remain in Lady Fawn's house an hour longer -than she should be wanted there. He must alter his plan of living at once, -give up the luxury of his rooms at the Grosvenor, take a small house -somewhere, probably near the Swiss Cottage, come up and down to his -chambers by the underground railway, and in all probability abandon -Parliament altogether. He was not sure whether in good faith he should not -at once give notice of his intended acceptance of the Chiltern Hundreds to -the electors of Bobsborough. Thus meditating, under the influence of that -intermittent evil grasp, almost angry with himself for the open truth -which he had spoken, or rather written, and perhaps thinking more of -Lizzie and her beauty than he should have done, in the course of three -weeks he had paid but one visit to Fawn Court. Then, of a sudden, finding -himself one afternoon relieved from work, he resolved to go there. The -days were still almost at their longest, and he did not scruple to present -himself before Lady Fawn between eight and nine in the evening. They were -all at tea, and he was welcomed kindly. Lucy, when he was announced, at -once got up and met him almost at the doorway, sparkling with just a tear -of joy in her eye, with a look in her face and a loving manner which for -the moment made him sure that the little house near the Swiss Cottage -would, after all, be the only Elysium upon earth. If she spoke a word he -hardly heard it, but her hand was in his, so cool and soft, almost -trembling in its grasp, with no attempt to withdraw itself, frank, loving, -and honest. There was a perfect satisfaction in her greeting which at once -told him that she had no discontented thoughts--had had no such thoughts-- -because he had been so long without coming. To see him was a great joy. -But every hour of her life was a joy to her, knowing, as she did know, -that he loved her. - -Lady Fawn was gracious, the girls were hospitable, and he found himself -made very welcome amidst all the women at the tea-table. Not a word was -said about Lizzie Eustace. Lady Fawn talked about Parliament, and -professed to pity a poor lover who was so bound to his country that he -could not see his mistress above once a fortnight. "But there'll be a good -time coming next month," she said; for it was now July. "Though the girls -can't make their claims felt, the grouse can." - -"It isn't the House altogether that rules me with a rod of iron, Lady -Fawn," said Frank, "but the necessity of earning daily bread by the sweat -of my brow. A man who has to sit in court all day must take the night--or, -indeed, any time that he can get--to read up his cases." - -"But the grouse put a stop to all work," said Lady Fawn. "My gardener told -me just now that he wanted a day or two in August. I don't doubt but that -he is going to the moors. Are you going to the moors, Mr. Greystock?" - -As it happened, Frank Greystock did not quite know whether he was going to -the moors or not. The Ayrshire grouse-shooting is not the best in -Scotland; but there is grouse-shooting in Ayrshire; and the shooting on -the Portray mountains is not the worst shooting in the county. The castle -at Portray overhangs the sea, but there is a wild district attached to it -stretching far back inland, in regard to which Lizzie Eustace was very -proud of talking of "her shooting." Early in the spring of the present -year she had asked her cousin Frank to accept the shooting for the coming -season, and he had accepted it. "I shall probably be abroad," she said, -"but there is the old castle." She had offered it as though he had been -her brother, and he had said that he would go down for a couple of weeks-- -not to the castle, but to a little lodge some miles up from the sea, of -which she told him when he declined the castle. When this invitation was -given there was no engagement between her and Lord Fawn. Since that date, -within the last day or two, she had reminded him of it. - -"Won't his lordship be there?" he had said laughingly. - -"Certainly not," she had answered with serious earnestness. Then she had -explained that her plan of going abroad had been set aside by -circumstances. She did mean to go down to Portray. "I couldn't have you at -the castle," she said, smiling; "but even an Othello couldn't object to a -first cousin at a little cottage ever so many miles off." It wasn't for -him to suggest what objections might rise to the brain of a modern -Othello; but after some hesitation he said that he would be there. He had -promised the trip to a friend, and would like to keep his promise. But, -nevertheless, he almost thought that he ought to avoid Portray. He -intended to support his cousin as far as he might do so honestly; but he -was not quite minded to stand by her through good report and evil report. -He did not desire to be specially known as her champion, and yet he felt -that that position would be almost forced upon him. He foresaw danger, and -consequently he was doubting about his journey to Scotland. - -"I hardly know whether I am or not," said Frank, and he almost felt that -he was blushing. - -"I hope you are," said Lucy. "When a man has to work all day and nearly -all night, he should go where he may get fresh air." - -"There's very good air without going to Scotland for it," said Lady Fawn, -who kept up an excellent house at Richmond, but who, with all her -daughters, could not afford autumn trips. The Fawns lived at Fawn Court -all the year round, and consequently Lady Fawn thought that air was to be -found in England sufficiently good for all purposes of vitality and -recreation. - -"It's not quite the same thing," said Lucy; "at least, not for a man." - -After that she was allowed to escape into the grounds with her lover, and -was made happy with half an hour of unalloyed bliss. To be alone with the -girl to whom he is not engaged is a man's delight; to be alone with the -man to whom she is engaged is the woman's. When the thing is settled there -is always present to the man something of a feeling of clipped wings; -whereas the woman is conscious of a new power of expanding her pinions. -The certainty of the thing is to him repressive. He has done his work, and -gained his victory, and by conquering has become a slave. To her the -certainty of the thing is the removal of a restraint which has hitherto -always been on her. She can tell him everything, and be told everything, -whereas her previous confidences, made with those of her own sex, have -been tame and by comparison valueless. He has no new confidence to make, -unless when he comes to tell her he likes his meat well done, and wants -his breakfast to be punctual. Lucy now not only promised herself, but did -actually realise, a great joy. He seemed to be to her all that her heart -desired. He was a man whose manner was naturally caressing and -demonstrative, and she was to him, of all women, the sweetest, the -dearest, the most perfect, and all his own. "But, Frank"--she had already -been taught to call him Frank when they were alone together--"what will -come of all this about Lizzie Eustace?" - -"They will be married, of course." - -"Do you think so? I am sure Lady Fawn doesn't think so." - -"What Lady Fawn thinks on such a matter cannot be helped. When a man asks -a woman to marry him, and she accepts, the natural consequence is that -they will be married. Don't you think so?" - -"I hope so, sometimes," said Lucy, with her two hands joined upon his arm, -and hanging to it with all her little weight. - -"You really do hope it?" he said. - -"Oh, I do; you know I do. Hope it! I should die if I didn't hope it." - -"Then why shouldn't she?" He asked his question with a quick, sharp voice, -and then turned upon her for an answer. - -"I don't know," she said, very softly, and still clinging to him. "I -sometimes think there is a difference in people." - -"There is a difference; but, still, we hardly judge of people sufficiently -by our own feelings. As she accepted him, you may be sure that she wishes -to marry him. She has more to give than he has." - -"And I have nothing to give," she said. - -"If I thought so, I'd go back even now," he answered. "It is because you -have so much to give--so much more than most others--that I have thought -of you, dreamed of you as my wife, almost ever since I first knew you." - -"I have nothing left to give," she said. "What I ever had is all given. -People call it the heart. I think it is heart, and brain, and mind, and -body, and almost soul. But, Frank, though Lizzie Eustace is your cousin, I -don't want to be likened to her. She is very clever, and beautiful, and -has a way with her that I know is charming--" - -"But what, Lucy?" - -"I don't think she cares so much as some people. I dare say she likes Lord -Fawn very well, but I do not believe she loves him as I love you." - -"They're engaged," said Frank, "and the best thing they can do is to marry -each other. I can tell you this at any rate,"--and his manner again became -serious--"if Lord Fawn behaves ill to her, I, as her cousin, shall take -her part." - -"You don't mean that you'll--fight him!" - -"No, my darling. Men don't fight each other nowadays--not often, at least ---and Fawn and I are not of the fighting sort. I can make him understand -what I mean and what others will mean without fighting him. He is making a -paltry excuse." - -"But why should he want to excuse himself--without reason?" - -"Because he is afraid. People have got hold of him and told him lies, and -he thinks there will be a scrape about this necklace, and he hates a -scrape. He'll marry her at last, without a doubt, and Lady Fawn is only -making trouble for herself by trying to prevent it. You can't do -anything." - -"Oh no--I can't do anything. When she was here it became at last quite -disagreeable. She hardly spoke to them, and I'm sure that even the -servants understood that there was a quarrel." She did not say a word of -Lizzie's offer of the brooch to herself, nor of the stories which by -degrees were reaching her ears as to the old debts, and the diamonds, and -the young bride's conduct to Lady Linlithgow as soon as she married her -grand husband, Sir Florian. She did think badly of Lizzie, and could not -but regret that her own noble, generous Frank should have to expend his -time and labour on a friend unworthy of his friendship; but there was no -shade of jealousy in her feeling, and she uttered no word against Lizzie -more bitter than that in which she declared that there was a difference -between people. - -And then there was something said as to their own prospects in life. Lucy -at once and with vehemence declared that she did not look for or expect an -immediate marriage. She did not scruple to tell him that she knew well how -difficult was the task before him, and that it might be essential for his -interest that he should remain as he was for a year or two. He was -astonished to find how completely she understood his position, and how -thoroughly she sympathised with his interests. "There is only one thing I -couldn't do for you," she said. - -"And what is the one thing?" - -"I couldn't give you up. I almost thought that I ought to refuse you -because I can do nothing--nothing to help you. But there will always come -a limit to self-denial. I couldn't do that! Could I?" - -The reader will know how this question was answered, and will not want to -be told of the long, close, clinging, praiseworthy kiss with which the -young barrister assured her that would have been on her part an act of -self-denial which would to him have been absolutely ruinous. It was -agreed, however, between them, that Lady Fawn should be told that they did -not propose to marry till some time in the following year, and that she -should be formally asked to allow Lucy to have a home at Fawn Court in the -interval. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -AS MY BROTHER - - -Lord Fawn had promised, as he put Lizzie into her carriage, that he would -come to her soon--but he did not come soon. A fortnight passed and he did -not show himself. Nothing further had been done in the matter of the -diamonds, except that Mr. Camperdown had written to Frank Greystock, -explaining how impossible it was that the question of their possession -should be referred to arbitration. According to him they belonged to the -heir, as did the estate; and no one would have the power of accepting an -arbitration respecting them--an arbitration which might separate them from -the estate of which an infant was the owner for his life--any more than -such arbitration could be accepted as to the property of the estate -itself. "Possession is nine points of the law," said Frank to himself, as -he put the letter aside--thinking at the same time that possession in the -hands of Lizzie Eustace included certainly every one of those nine points. -Lizzie wore her diamonds again and then again. There may be a question -whether the possession of the necklace and the publicity of its history-- -which, however, like many other histories, was most inaccurately told--did -not add something to her reputation as a lady of fashion. In the mean time -Lord Fawn did not come to see her. So she wrote to him. "My dear Frederic: -Had you not better come to me? Yours affectionately, L. I go to the North -at the end of this month." - -But Frank Greystock did visit her, more than once. On the day after the -above letter was written he came to her. It was on Sunday afternoon, when -July was more than half over, and he found her alone. Miss Macnulty had -gone to church, and Lizzie was lying listlessly on a sofa with a volume of -poetry in her hand. She had, in truth, been reading the book, and in her -way enjoying it. It told her the story of certain knights of old, who had -gone forth in quest of a sign from heaven, which sign, if verily seen by -them, might be taken to signify that they themselves were esteemed holy, -and fit for heavenly joy. One would have thought that no theme could have -been less palatable to such a one as Lizzie Eustace; but the melody of the -lines had pleased her ear, and she was always able to arouse for herself a -false enthusiasm on things which were utterly outside herself in life. She -thought she too could have travelled in search of that holy sign, and have -borne all things, and abandoned all things, and have persevered, and of a -certainty have been rewarded. But as for giving up a string of diamonds, -in common honesty, that was beyond her. - -"I wonder whether men ever were like that?" she said, as she allowed her -cousin to take the book from her hands. - -"Let us hope not." - -"Oh, Frank!" - -"They were, no doubt, as fanatic and foolish as you please. If you will -read to the end----" - -"I have read it all, every word of it," said Lizzie, enthusiastically. - -"Then you know that Arthur did not go on the search, because he had a job -of work to do, by the doing of which the people around him might perhaps -be somewhat benefited." - -"I like Launcelot better than Arthur," said Lizzie. - -"So did the Queen," replied Frank. - -"Your useful, practical man, who attends vestries and sits at boards, and -measures out his gifts to others by the ounce, never has any heart. Has -he, Frank?" - -"I don't know what heart means. I sometimes fancy that it is a talent for -getting into debt, and running away with other men's wives." - -"You say that on purpose to make me quarrel with you. You don't run away -with other men's wives, and you have heart." - -"But I get into debt, unfortunately; and as for other men's wives, I am -not sure that I may not do even that some day. Has Lord Fawn been here?" -She shook her head. "Or written?" Again she shook her head. As she did so -the long curl waved and was very near to him, for he was sitting close to -the sofa, and she had raised herself so that she might look into his face -and speak to him almost in a whisper. "Something should be settled, -Lizzie, before you leave town." - -"I wrote to him yesterday, one line, and desired him to come. I expected -him here to-day, but you have come instead. Shall I say that I am -disappointed?" - -"No doubt you are so." - -"Oh, Frank, how vain you men are! You want me to swear to you that I would -sooner have you with me than him. You are not content with--thinking it, -unless I tell you that it is so. You know that it is so. Though he is to -be my husband--I suppose he will be my husband--his spirit is not -congenial to mine, as is yours." - -"Had you not loved him you would not have accepted him." - -"What was I to do, Frank? What am I to do? Think how desolate I am, how -unfriended, how much in want of some one whom I can call a protector! I -cannot have you always with me. You care more for the little finger of -that prim piece of propriety down at the old dowager's than you do for me -and all my sorrows." This was true, but Frank did not say that it was -true. "Lord Fawn is at any rate respectable. At least I thought he was so -when I accepted his offer." - -"He is respectable enough." - -"Just that--isn't it?--and nothing more You do not blame me for saying -that I would be his wife? If you do, I will unsay it, let it cost me what -it may. He is treating me so badly that I need not go far for an excuse." -Then she looked into his face with all the eagerness of her gaze, clearly -implying that she expected a serious answer. "Why do you not answer me, -Frank?" - -"What am I to say? He is a timid, cautious man. They have frightened him -about this trumpery necklace, and he is behaving badly. But he will make a -good husband. He is not a spendthrift. He has rank. All his people are -respectable. As Lady Fawn any house in England will be open to you. He is -not rich, but together you will be rich." - -"What is all that without love?" - -"I do not doubt his love. And when you are his own he will love you -dearly." - -"Ah, yes; as he would a horse or a picture. Is there anything of the -rapture of love in that? Is that your idea of love? Is it so you love your -Miss Demure?" - -"Don't call names, Lizzie." - -"I shall say what I please of her. You and I are to be friends, and I may -not speak? No; I will have no such friendship! She is demure. If you like -it, what harm is there in my saying it? I am not demure. I know that. I do -not, at least, pretend to be other than I am. When she becomes your wife, -I wonder whether you will like her ways?" He had not yet told her that she -was to be his wife, nor did he so tell her now. He thought for a moment -the he had better tell her, but he did not do so. It would, he said to -himself, add an embarrassment to his present position. And as the marriage -was to be postponed for a year, it might be better, perhaps, for Lucy that -it should not be declared openly. It was thus he argued with himself, but -yet, no doubt, he knew well that he did not declare the truth because it -would take away something of its sweetness from this friendship with his -cousin Lizzie. - -"If I ever do marry," he said, "I hope I shall like my wife's ways." - -"Of course you will not tell me anything. I do not expect confidence from -you. I do not think a man is ever able to work himself up to the mark of -true confidence with his friend. Men together, when they like each other, -talk of politics, or perhaps of money; but I doubt whether they ever -really tell their thoughts and longings to each other." - -"Are women more communicative?" - -"Yes; certainly. What is there I would not tell you if you. cared to hear -it? Every thought I have is open to you if you choose to read it. I have -that feeling regarding you that I would keep nothing back from you. Oh, -Frank, if you understood me, you could save me--I was going to say--from -all unhappiness." - -She did it so well that he would have been more than man had he not -believed some of it. She was sitting almost upright now, though her feet -were still on the sofa, and was leaning over towards him, as though -imploring him for his aid, and her eyes were full of tears, and her lips -were apart as though still eager with the energy of expression, and her -hands were clasped together. She was very lovely, very attractive, almost -invincible. For such a one as Frank Greystock opposition to her in her -present mood was impossible. There are men by whom a woman, if she have -wit, beauty, and no conscience, cannot be withstood. Arms may be used -against them, and a sort of battle waged, against which they can raise no -shield--from which they can retire into no fortress--in which they can -parry no blow. A man so weak and so attacked may sometimes run; but even -the poor chance of running is often cut off from him. How unlike she was -to Lucy! He believed her--in part; and yet that was the idea that occurred -to him. When Lucy was much in earnest, in her eye, too, a tear would -sparkle, the smallest drop, a bright liquid diamond that never fell; and -all her face would be bright and eloquent with feeling; but how unlike -were the two! He knew that the difference was that between truth and -falsehood; and yet he partly believed the falsehood. "If I knew how to -save you from an hour's uneasiness, I would do it," he said. - -"No--no--no!" she murmured. - -"Would I not? You do not know me then." He had nothing further to say, and -it suited her to remain silent for the moment, while she dried her eyes -and recovered her composure, and prepared herself to carry on the battle -with a smile. She would carry on the battle, using every wile she knew, -straining every nerve to be victorious, encountering any and all dangers, -and yet she had no definite aim before her. She herself did not know what -she would be at. At this period of her career she did not want to marry -her cousin--having resolved that she would be Lady Fawn. Nor did she -intend that her cousin should be her lover--in the ordinary sense of love. -She was far too wary in the pursuit of the world's goods to sacrifice -herself to any such wish as that. She did want him to help her about the -diamonds; but such help as that she might have, as she knew well, on much -easier terms. There was probably an anxiety in her bosom to cause him to -be untrue to Lucy Morris; but the guiding motive of her conduct was the -desire to make things seem to be other than they were. To be always acting -a part rather than living her own life was to her everything. "After all -we must come to facts," he said, after a while. "I suppose it will be -better that you should marry Lord Fawn." - -"If you wish it." - -"Nay; I cannot have that said. In this matter you must rule yourself by -your own judgment. If you are averse to it----" She shook her head. "Then -you will own that it had better be so." Again she shook her head. "Lizzie, -for your sake and my own, I must declare that if you have no opinion in -this matter, neither will I have any. You shall never have to say that I -pressed you into this marriage or debarred you from marrying. I could not -bear such an accusation." - -"But you might tell me what I ought to do." - -"No; certainly not." - -"Think how young I am, and--by comparison--how old you are. You are eight -years older than I am. Remember, after all that I have gone through, I am -but twenty-two. At my age other girls have their friends to tell them. I -have no one, unless you will tell me." - -"You have accepted him?" - -"Yes." - -"I suppose he is not altogether indifferent to you?" - -She paused, and again shook her head. "Indeed I do not know. If you mean, -do I love him, as I could love some man whose heart was quite congenial to -my own, certainly I do not." She continued to shake her head very sadly. -"I esteemed him--when he asked me." - -"Say at once that, having made up your mind, you will go through with it." - -"You think that I ought?" - -"You think so--yourself." - -"So be it, Frank. I will. But, Frank, I will not give up my property. You -do not wish me to do that. It would be weak now--would it not? I am sure -that it is my own." - -"His faith to you should not depend on that." - -"No, of course not; that is just what I mean. He can have no right to -interfere. When he asked me to be his wife, he said nothing about that. -But if he does not come to me, what shall I do?" - -"I suppose I had better see him," said Frank slowly. - -"Will you? That will be so good of you. I feel that I can leave it all -safely in your hands. I shall go out of town, you know, on the 30th. I -feel that I shall be better away, and I am sick of all the noise, and -glitter, and worldliness of London. You will come on the 12th?" - -"Not quite so soon as that," he said, after a pause. - -"But you will come?" - -"Yes; about the 20th." - -"And of course, I shall see you?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"So that I may have some one to guide me that I can trust. I have no -brother, Frank; do you ever think of that?" She put out her hand to him, -and he clasped it, and held it tight in his own; and then, after a while, -he pulled her towards him. In a moment she was on the ground, kneeling at -his feet, and his arm was round her shoulder, and his hand was on her -back, and he was embracing her. Her face was turned up to him, and he -pressed his lips upon her forehead. "As my brother," she said, stretching -back her head and looking up into his face. - -"Yes; as your brother." - -They were sitting, or rather acting their little play together, in the -back drawing-room, and the ordinary entrance to the two rooms was from the -landing-place into the larger apartment; of which fact Lizzie was probably -aware, when she permitted herself to fall into a position as to which a -moment or two might be wanted for recovery. When, therefore, the servant -in livery opened the door, which he did as Frank thought somewhat -suddenly, she was able to be standing on her legs before she was caught. -The quickness with which she sprung from her position, and the facility -with which she composed not her face only, but the loose lock of her hair -and all her person, for the reception of the coming visitor, was quite -marvellous. About her there was none of the look of having been found out, -which is so very disagreeable to the wearer of it; whereas Frank, when -Lord Fawn was announced, was aware that his manner was awkward, and his -general appearance flurried. Lizzie was no more flurried than if she had -stepped that moment from out of the hands of her tirewoman. She greeted -Lord Fawn very prettily, holding him by the hand long enough to show that -she had more claim to do so than could any other woman, and then she just -murmured her cousin's name. The two men shook hands, and looked at each -other as men who know they are not friends, and think that they may live -to be enemies. Lord Fawn, who rarely forgot anything, had certainly not -forgotten the Sawab; and Frank was aware that he might soon be called on -to address his lordship in anything but friendly terms. They said, -however, a few words about Parliament and the weather, and the -desirability of escaping from London. - -"Frank," said Lady Eustace, "is coming down in August to shoot my three -annual grouse at Portray. He would keep one for you, my lord, if he -thought you would come for it." - -"I'll promise Lord Fawn a fair third at any rate," said Frank. - -"I cannot visit Portray this August, I'm afraid," said his lordship, "much -as I might wish to do so. One of us must remain at the India Office----" - -"Oh, that weary India Office!" exclaimed "Lizzie. - -"I almost think that you official men are worse off than we barristers," -said Frank. "Well, Lizzie, good-by. I dare say I shall see you again -before you start." - -"Of course you will," said Lizzie. And then the two lovers were left -together. They had met once, at Lady Glencora's ball, since the quarrel at -Fawn Court, and there, as though by mutual forbearance, had not alluded to -their troubles. Now he had come especially to speak of the matter that -concerned them both so deeply. As long as Frank Greystock was in the room -his work was comparatively easy, but he had known beforehand that he would -not find it all easy should he be left alone with her. Lizzie began. "My -lord," she said, "considering all that has passed between us you have been -a truant." - -"Yes; I admit it--but----" - -"With me, my lord, a fault admitted is a fault forgiven." Then she took -her old seat on the sofa, and he placed himself on the chair which Frank -Greystock had occupied. He had not intended to own a fault, and certainly -not to accept forgiveness; but she had been too quick for him; and now he -could not find words by which to express himself. "In truth," she -continued, "I would always rather remember one kindness than a dozen -omissions on the part of a friend." - -"Lady Eustace, I have not willingly omitted anything." - -"So be it. I will not give you the slightest excuse for saying that you -have heard a reproach from me. You have come at last, and you are welcome. -Is that enough for you?" - -He had much to say to her about the diamonds, and when he was entering the -room he had not a word to say to her about anything else. Since that -another subject had sprung up before him. Whether he was or was not to -regard himself as being at this moment engaged to marry Lady Eustace, was -a matter to him of much doubt; but of this he was sure, that if she were -engaged to him as his wife, she ought not to be entertaining her cousin -Frank Greystock down at Portray Castle unless she had some old lady, not -only respectable in life but high in rank also, to see that everything was -right. It was almost an insult to him that such a visit should have been -arranged without his sanction or cognisance. Of course, if he were bound -by no engagement--and he had been persuaded by his mother and sister to -wish that he were not bound--then the matter would be no affair of his. -If, however, the diamonds were abandoned, then the engagement was to be -continued: and in that case it was out of the question that his elected -bride should entertain another young man, even though she was a widow and -the young man was her cousin. Of course he should have spoken of the -diamonds first; but the other matter had obtruded itself upon him, and he -was puzzled. "Is Mr. Greystock to accompany you into Scotland?" he asked. - -"Oh dear, no. I go on the 30th of this month. I hardly know when he means -to be there." - -"He follows you to Portray?" - -"Yes; he follows me of course. 'The king himself has followed her, when -she has gone before.'" Lord Fawn did not remember the quotation, and was -more puzzled than ever. "Frank will follow me, just as the other shooting -men will follow me." - -"He goes direct to Portray Castle?" - -"Neither directly nor indirectly. Just at present, Lord Fawn I am in no -mood to entertain guests--not even one that I love so well as my cousin -Frank. The Portray mountains are somewhat extensive, and at the back of -them there is a little shooting-lodge." - -"Oh, indeed," said Lord Fawn, feeling that he had better dash at once at -the diamonds. - -"If you, my lord, could manage to join us for a day, my cousin and his -friend would, I am sure, come over to the castle, so that you should not -suffer from being left alone with me and Miss Macnulty." - -"At present it is impossible," said Lord Fawn; and then he paused. "Lady -Eustace, the position in which you and I stand to each other is one not -altogether free from trouble." - -"You cannot say that it is of my making," she said with a smile. "You once -asked--what men think a favour from me--and I granted it, perhaps too -easily." - -"I know how greatly I am indebted to your goodness, Lady Eustace----" And -then again he paused. - -"Lord Fawn!" - -"I trust you will believe that nothing can be further from me than that -you should be harassed by any conduct of mine." - -"I am harassed, my lord." - -"And so am I. I have learned that you are in possession of certain jewels -which I cannot allow to be held by my wife." - -"I am not your wife, Lord Fawn." As she said this she rose from her -reclining posture and sat erect. - -"That is true. You are not. But you said you would be." - -"Go on, sir." - -"It was the pride of my life to think that I had attained to so much -happiness. Then came this matter of the diamonds." - -"What business have you with my diamonds more than any other man?" - -"Simply that I am told that they are not yours." - -"Who tells you so?" - -"Various people. Mr. Camperdown." - -"If you, my lord, intend to take an attorney's word against mine, and that -on a matter as to which no one but myself can know the truth, then you are -not fit to be my husband. The diamonds are my own, and should you and I -become man and wife, they must remain so by special settlement. While I -choose to keep them they will be mine, to do with them as I please. It -will be my pleasure, when my boy marries, to hang them round his bride's -neck." She carried herself well, and spoke her words with dignity. - -"What I have got to say is this," began Lord Fawn. "I must consider our -engagement as at an end unless you will give them up to Mr. Camperdown." - -"I will not give them up to Mr. Camperdown." - -"Then--then--then----" - -"And I make bold to tell you, Lord Fawn, that you are not behaving to me -like a man of honour. I shall now leave the matter in the hands of my -cousin, Mr. Greystock." Then she sailed out of the room, and Lord Fawn was -driven to escape from the house as he might. He stood about the room for -five minutes with his hat in his hand, and then walked down and let -himself out of the front door. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE DIAMONDS BECOME TROUBLESOME - - -The 30th of July came round, and Lizzie was prepared for her journey down -to Scotland. She was to be accompanied by Miss Macnulty and her own maid -and her own servants, and to travel of course like a grand lady. She had -not seen Lord Fawn since the meeting recorded in the last chapter, but had -seen her cousin Frank nearly every other day. He, after much -consideration, had written a long letter to Lord Fawn, in which he had -given that nobleman to understand that some explanation was required as to -conduct which Frank described as being to him "at present unintelligible." -He then went at considerable length into the matter of the diamonds, with -the object of proving that Lord Fawn could have no possible right to -interfere in the matter. And though he had from the first wished that -Lizzie would give up the trinket, he made various points in her favour. -Not only had they been given to his cousin by her late husband; but even -had they not been so given, they would have been hers by will. Sir Florian -had left her everything that was within the walls of Portray Castle, and -the diamonds had been at Portray at the time of Sir Florian's death. Such -was Frank's statement--untrue indeed, but believed by him to be true. This -was one of Lizzie's lies, forged as soon as she understood that some -subsidiary claim might be made upon them on the ground that they formed a -portion of property left by will away from her; some claim subsidiary to -the grand claim, that the necklace was a family heirloom. Lord Fawn was -not in the least shaken in his conviction that Lizzie had behaved, and was -behaving, badly, and that, therefore, he had better get rid of her; but he -knew that he must be very wary in the reasons he would give for jilting -her. He wrote, therefore, a very short note to Greystock, promising that -any explanation needed should be given as soon as circumstances should -admit of his forming a decision. In the mean time the 30th of July came, -and Lady Eustace was ready for her journey. - -There is, or there was, a train leaving London for Carlisle at eleven A. -M., by which Lizzie purposed to travel, so that she might sleep in that -city and go on through Dumfries to Portray the next morning. This was her -scheme; but there was another part of her scheme as to which she had felt -much doubt. Should she leave the diamonds, or should she take them with -her? The iron box in which they were kept was small, and so far portable -that a strong man might carry it without much trouble. Indeed, Lizzie -could move it from one part of the room to the other, and she had often -done so. But it was so heavy that it could not be taken with her without -attracting attention. The servant would know what it was, and the porter -would know, and Miss Macnulty would know. That her own maid should know -was a matter of course; but even to her own maid the journey of the jewels -would be remarkable because of the weight of the box, whereas if they went -with her other jewels in her dressing-case, there would be nothing -remarkable. She might even have taken them in her pocket, had she dared. -But she did not dare. Though she was intelligent and courageous, she was -wonderfully ignorant as to what might and what might not be done for the -recovery of the necklace by Mr. Camperdown. She did not dare to take them -without the iron box, and at last she decided that the box should go. At a -little after ten, her own carriage--the job-carriage, which was now about -to perform its last journey in her service--was at the door, and a cab was -there for the servants. The luggage was brought down, and with the larger -boxes was brought the iron case with the necklace. The servant, certainly -making more of the weight than he need have done, deposited it as a -footstool for Lizzie, who then seated herself, and was followed by Miss -Macnulty. She would have it placed in the same way beneath her feet in the -railway carriage, and again brought into her room at the Carlisle Hotel. -What though the porter did know! There was nothing illegal in travelling -about with a heavy iron box full of diamonds, and the risk would be less -this way, she thought, than were she to leave them behind her in London. -The house in Mount Street, which she had taken for the season, was to be -given up; and whom could she trust in London? Her very bankers, she -feared, would have betrayed her, and given up her treasure to Mr. -Camperdown. As for Messrs. Harter & Benjamin, she felt sure that they -would be bribed by Mr. Camperdown. She once thought of asking her cousin -to take the charge of them, but she could not bring herself to let them -out of her own hands. Ten thousand pounds! If she could only sell them and -get the money, from what a world of trouble would she be relieved. And the -sale, for another reason, would have been convenient; for Lady Eustace was -already a little in debt. But she could not sell them, and therefore when -she got into the carriage there was the box under her feet. - -At that very moment who should appear on the pavement, standing between -the carriage and the house-door, but Mr. Camperdown? And with Mr. -Camperdown there was another man--a very suspicious-looking man, whom -Lizzie at once took to be a detective officer of police. "Lady Eustace!" -said Mr. Camperdown, taking off his hat. Lizzie bowed across Miss -Macnulty, and endeavoured to restrain the telltale blood from flying to -her cheeks. "I believe," said Mr. Camperdown, "that you are now starting -for Scotland." - -"We are, Mr. Camperdown; and we are very late." - -"Could you allow me two minutes' conversation with you in the house?" - -"Oh dear, no. We are late, I tell you. What a time you have chosen for -coming, Mr. Camperdown!" - -"It is an awkward hour, Lady Eustace. I only heard this morning that you -were going so soon, and it is imperative that I should see you." - -"Had you not better write, Mr. Camperdown?" - -"You will never answer my letters, Madam." - -"I--I--I really cannot see you now. William, the coachman must drive on. -We cannot allow ourselves to lose the train. I am really very sorry, Mr. -Camperdown, but we must not lose the train." - -"Lady Eustace," said Mr. Camperdown, putting his hand on the carriage- -door, and so demeaning himself that the coachman did not dare to drive on, -"I must ask you a question." He spoke in a low voice, but he was speaking -across Miss Macnulty. That lady, therefore, heard him, and so did William, -the servant, who was standing close to the door. "I must insist on knowing -where are the Eustace diamonds." Lizzie felt the box beneath her feet, -and, without showing that she did so, somewhat widened her drapery. - -"I can tell you nothing now. William, make the coachman drive on." - -"If you will not answer me, I must tell you that I shall be driven in the -execution of my duty to obtain a search-warrant, in order that they may be -placed in proper custody. They are not your property, and must be taken -out of your hands." - -Lizzie looked at the suspicious man with a frightened gaze. The suspicious -man was, in fact, a very respectable clerk in Mr. Camperdown's employment, -but Lizzie for a moment felt that the search was about to begin at once. -She had hardly understood the threat, and thought that the attorney was -already armed with the powers of which he spoke. She glanced for a moment -at Miss Macnulty, and then at the servant. Would they betray her? If they -chose to use force to her, the box certainly might be taken from her. "I -know I shall lose the train," she said. "I know I shall. I must insist -that you let my servant drive on." There was now a little crowd of a dozen -persons on the pavement, and there was nothing to cover her diamonds but -the skirt of her travelling-dress. - -"Are they in this house, Lady Eustace?" - -"Why doesn't he go on?" shouted Lizzie. "You have no right, sir, to stop -me. I won't be stopped." - -"Or have you got them with you?" - -"I shall answer no questions. You have no right to treat me in this way." - -"Then I shall be forced, on behalf of the family, to obtain a search- -warrant, both here and in Ayrshire, and proceedings will be taken also -against your ladyship personally." - -So saying, Mr. Camperdown withdrew, and at last the carriage was driven -on. - -As it happened, there was time enough for catching the train, and to -spare. The whole affair in Mount Street had taken less than ten minutes. -But the effect upon Lizzie was very severe. For a while she could not -speak, and at last she burst out into hysteric tears--not a sham fit, but -a true convulsive agony of sobbing. All the world of Mount Street, -including her own servants, had heard the accusation against her. During -the whole morning she had been wishing that she had never seen the -diamonds; but now it was almost impossible that she should part with them. -And yet they were like a load upon her chest, a load as heavy as though -she was compelled to sit with the iron box on her lap day and night. In -her sobbing she felt the thing under her feet and knew that she could not -get rid of it. She hated the box, and yet she must cling to it now. She -was thoroughly ashamed of the box, and yet she must seem to take a pride -in it. She was horribly afraid of the box, and yet she must keep it in her -own very bedroom. And what should she say about the box now to Miss -Macnulty, who sat by her side, stiff and scornful, offering her smelling- -bottles, but not offering her sympathy? "My dear," she said at last, "that -horrid man has quite upset me." - -"I don't wonder that you should be upset," said Miss Macnulty. - -"And so unjust, too--so false--so--so--so---They are my own as much as -that umbrella is yours, Miss Macnulty." - -"I don't know," said Miss Macnulty. - -"But I tell you," said Lizzie. - -"What I mean is, that it is such a pity there should be a doubt." - -"There is no doubt," said Lizzie; "how dare you say there is a doubt? My -cousin, Mr. Greystock, says that there is not the slightest doubt. He is a -barrister, and must know better than an attorney like that Mr. -Camperdown." By this time they were at the Euston Square station, and then -there was more trouble with the box. The footman struggled with it into -the waiting-room, and the porter struggled with it from the waiting-room -to the carriage. Lizzie could not but look at the porter as he carried it, -and she felt sure that the man had been told of its contents and was -struggling with the express view of adding to her annoyance. The same -thing happened at Carlisle, where the box was carried up into Lizzie's -bedroom by the footman, and where she was convinced that her treasure had -become the subject of conversation for the whole house. In the morning -people looked at her as she walked down the long platform with the box -still struggling before her. She almost wished that she had undertaken its -carriage herself, as she thought that even she could have managed with -less outward show of effort. Her own servants seemed to be in league -against her, and Miss Macnulty had never before been so generally -unpleasant. Poor Miss Macnulty, who had a conscientious idea of doing her -duty, and who always attempted to give an adequate return for the bread -she ate, could not so far overcome the effect of Mr. Camperdown's visit as -to speak on any subject without being stiff and hard. And she suffered, -too, from the box, to such a degree that she turned over in her mind the -thought of leaving Lizzie if any other possible home might be found for -her. Who would willingly live with a woman who always travelled about with -a diamond necklace worth ten thousand pounds, locked up in an iron safe-- -and that necklace not her own property? - -But at last Lady Eustace, and Miss Macnulty, and the servants--and the -iron box--reached Portray Castle in safety. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -"IANTHE'S SOUL" - - -Lady Eustace had been rather cross on the journey down to Scotland, and -had almost driven the unfortunate Macnulty to think that Lady Linlithgow -or the workhouse would be better than this young tyrant; but on her -arrival at her own house she was for a while all smiles and kindness. -During the journey she had been angry without thought, but was almost -entitled to be excused for her anger. Could Miss Macnulty have realised -the amount of oppression inflicted on her patroness by the box of -diamonds, she would have forgiven anything. Hitherto there had been some -secrecy, or at any rate some privacy, attached to the matter; but now that -odious lawyer had discussed the matter aloud, in the very streets, in the -presence of servants, and Lady Eustace had felt that it was discussed also -by every porter on the railway from London down to Troon, the station in -Scotland at which her own carriage met her to take her to her own castle. -The night at Carlisle had been terrible to her, and the diamonds had never -been for a moment off her mind. Perhaps the worst of it all was that her -own man-servant and maid-servant had heard the claim which had been so -violently made by Mr. Camperdown. There are people in that respect very -fortunately circumstanced, whose servants, as a matter of course, know all -their affairs, have an interest in their concerns, sympathise with their -demands, feel their wants, and are absolutely at one with them. But in -such cases the servants are really known, and are almost as completely a -part of the family as the sons and daughters. There may be disruptions and -quarrels; causes may arise for ending the existing condition of things; -but while this condition lasts the servants in such households are for the -most part only too well inclined to fight the battles of their employers. -Mr. Binns, the butler, would almost foam at the mouth if it were suggested -to him that the plate at Silvercup Hall was not the undoubted property of -the old squire; and Mrs. Pouncebox could not be made to believe, by any -amount of human evidence, that the jewels which her lady has worn for the -last fifteen years are not her ladyship's very own. Binns would fight for -the plate, and so would Pouncebox for the jewels, almost till they were -cut to pieces. The preservation of these treasures on behalf of those who -paid them their wages and fed them, who occasionally scolded them, but -always succoured them, would be their point of honour. No torture would -get the key of the cellar from Binns; no threats extract from Pouncebox a -secret of the toilet. But poor Lizzie Eustace had no Binns and no -Pouncebox. They are plants that grow slowly. There was still too much of -the mushroom about Lady Eustace to permit of her possessing such -treasures. Her footman was six feet high, was not bad-looking, and was -called Thomas. She knew no more about him, and was far too wise to expect -sympathy from him, or other aid than the work for which she paid him. Her -own maid was somewhat nearer to her; but not much nearer. The girl's name -was Patience Crabstick, and she could do hair well. Lizzie knew but little -more of her than that. - -Lizzie considered herself to be still engaged to be married to Lord Fawn, -but there was no sympathy to be had in that quarter. Frank Greystock might -be induced to sympathise with her, but hardly after the fashion which -Lizzie desired. And then sympathy in that direction would be so dangerous -should she decide upon going on with the Fawn marriage. For the present -she had quarrelled with Lord Fawn; but the very bitterness of that -quarrel, and the decision with which her betrothed had declared his -intention of breaking off the match, made her the more resolute that she -would marry him. During her journey to Portray she had again determined -that he should be her husband; and, if so, advanced sympathy--sympathy -that would be pleasantly tender with her cousin Frank--would be dangerous. -She would be quite willing to accept even Miss Macnulty's sympathy if that -humble lady would give it to her of the kind she wanted. She declared to -herself that she could pour herself out on Miss Macnulty's bosom, and -mingle her tears even with Miss Macnulty's if only Miss Macnulty would -believe in her. If Miss Macnulty would be enthusiastic about the jewels, -enthusiastic as to the wickedness of Lord Fawn, enthusiastic in praising -Lizzie herself, Lizzie--so she told herself--would have showered all the -sweets of female friendship even on Miss Macnulty's head. But Miss -Macnulty was as hard as a deal board. She did as she was bidden, thereby -earning her bread. But there was no tenderness in her; no delicacy; no -feeling; no comprehension. It was thus that Lady Eustace judged her humble -companion; and in one respect she judged her rightly. Miss Macnulty did -not believe in Lady Eustace, and was not sufficiently gifted to act up to -a belief which she did not entertain. - -Poor Lizzie! The world, in judging of people who are false, and bad, and -selfish, and prosperous to outward appearances, is apt to be hard upon -them, and to forget the punishments which generally accompany such faults. -Lizzie Eustace was very false, and bad, and selfish, and, we may say, very -prosperous also; but in the midst of all she was thoroughly uncomfortable. -She was never at ease. There was no green spot in her life with which she -could be contented. And though, after a fashion, she knew herself to be -false and bad, she was thoroughly convinced that she was ill-used by -everybody about her. She was being very badly treated by Lord Fawn; but -she flattered herself that she would be able to make Lord Fawn know more -of her character before she had done with him. - -Portray Castle was really a castle, not simply a country mansion so -called, but a stone edifice with battlements and a round tower at one -corner, and a gate which looked as if it might have had a portcullis, and -narrow windows in a portion of it, and a cannon mounted upon a low roof, -and an excavation called the moat, but which was now a fantastic and -somewhat picturesque garden, running round two sides of it. In very truth, -though a portion of the castle was undoubtedly old and had been built when -strength was needed for defence and probably for the custody of booty, the -battlements, and the round tower, and the awe-inspiring gateway had all -been added by one of the late Sir Florians. But the castle looked like a -castle, and was interesting. As a house it was not particularly eligible, -the castle form of domestic architecture being exigent in its nature, and -demanding that space, which in less ambitious houses can be applied to -comfort, shall be surrendered to magnificence. There was a great hall, and -a fine dining-room, with plate-glass windows looking out upon the sea; but -the other sitting-rooms were insignificant, and the bedrooms were here and -there, and were for the most part small and dark. That, however, which -Lizzie had appropriated to her own use was a grand chamber, looking also -out upon the open sea. - -The castle stood upon a bluff of land, with a fine prospect of the Firth -of Clyde, and with a distant view of the Isle of Arran. When the air was -clear, as it often is clear there, the Arran hills could be seen from -Lizzie's window, and she was proud of talking of the prospect. In other -respects, perhaps, the castle was somewhat desolate. There were a few -stunted trees around it, but timber had not prospered there. There was a -grand kitchen garden, or rather a kitchen garden which had been intended -to be grand; but since Lizzie's reign had been commenced, the grandeur had -been neglected. Grand kitchen gardens are expensive, and Lizzie had at -once been firm in reducing the under-gardeners from five men to one and a -boy. The head gardener had of course left her at once; but that had not -broken her heart, and she had hired a modest man at a guinea a week -instead of a scientific artist, who was by no means modest, with a hundred -and twenty pounds a year, and coals, house, milk, and all other -horticultural luxuries. Though Lizzie was prosperous and had a fine -income, she was already aware that she could not keep up a town and -country establishment and be a rich woman on four thousand a year. There -was a flower garden and small shrubbery within the so-called moat; but, -otherwise, the grounds of Portray Castle were not alluring. The place was -sombre, exposed, and in winter very cold; and except that the expanse of -sea beneath the hill on which stood the castle was fine and open, it had -no great claim to praise on the score of scenery. Behind the castle, and -away from the sea, the low mountains belonging to the estate stretched for -some eight or ten miles; and toward the further end of them, where stood a -shooting-lodge, called always The Cottage, the landscape became rough and -grand. It was in this cottage that Frank Greystock was to be sheltered -with his friend, when he came down to shoot what Lady Eustace had called -her three annual grouse. - -She ought to have been happy and comfortable. There will, of course, be -some to say that a young widow should not be happy and comfortable--that -she should be weeping her lost lord, and subject to the desolation of -bereavement. But as the world goes now, young widows are not miserable; -and there is, perhaps, a growing tendency in society to claim from them -year by year still less of any misery that may be avoidable. Suttee -propensities of all sorts, from burning alive down to bombazine and -hideous forms of clothing, are becoming less and less popular among the -nations, and women are beginning to learn that, let what misfortunes will -come upon them, it is well for them to be as happy as their nature will -allow them to be. A woman may thoroughly respect her husband, and mourn -him truly, honestly, with her whole heart, and yet enjoy thoroughly the -good things which he has left behind for her use. It was not, at any rate, -sorrow for the lost Sir Florian that made Lady Eustace uncomfortable. She -had her child. She had her income. She had her youth and beauty. She had -Portray Castle. She had a new lover, and, if she chose to be quit of him, -not liking him well enough for the purpose, she might undoubtedly have -another whom she would like better. She had hitherto been thoroughly -successful in her life. And yet she was unhappy. What was it that she -wanted? - -She had been a very clever child--a clever, crafty child; and now she was -becoming a clever woman. Her craft remained with her; but so keen was her -outlook upon the world, that she was beginning to perceive that craft, let -it be never so crafty, will in the long run miss its own object. She -actually envied the simplicity of Lucy Morris, for whom she delighted to -find evil names, calling her demure, a prig, a sly puss, and so on. But -she could see--or half see--that Lucy with her simplicity was stronger -than was she with her craft. She had nearly captivated Frank Greystock -with her wiles, but without any wiles Lucy had captivated him altogether. -And a man captivated by wiles was only captivated for a time, whereas a -man won by simplicity would be won for ever--if he himself were worth the -winning. And this too she felt--that let her success be what it might, she -could not be happy unless she could win a man's heart. She had won Sir -Florian's, but that had been but for an hour--for a month or two. And then -Sir Florian had never really won hers. Could not she be simple? Could not -she act simplicity so well that the thing acted should be as powerful as -the thing itself; perhaps even more powerful? Poor Lizzie Eustace! In -thinking over all this she saw a great deal. It was wonderful that she -should see so much and tell herself so many home truths. But there was one -truth she could not see, and therefore could not tell it to herself. She -had not a heart to give. It had become petrified during those lessons of -early craft in which she had taught herself how to get the better of -Messrs. Harter & Benjamin, of Sir Florian Eustace, of Lady Linlithgow, and -of Mr. Camperdown. - -Her ladyship had now come down to her country house, leaving London and -all its charms before the end of the season, actuated by various motives. -In the first place, the house in Mount Street was taken furnished, by the -month, and the servants were hired after the same fashion, and the horses -jobbed. Lady Eustace was already sufficiently intimate with her accounts -to know that she would save two hundred pounds by not remaining another -month or three weeks in London, and sufficiently observant of her own -affairs to have perceived that such saving was needed. And then it -appeared to her that her battle with Lord Fawn could be better fought from -a distance than at close quarters. London, too, was becoming absolutely -distasteful to her. There were many things there that tended to make her -unhappy, and so few that she could enjoy. She was afraid of Mr. -Camperdown, and ever on the rack lest some dreadful thing should come upon -her in respect of the necklace, some horrible paper served upon her from a -magistrate, ordering her appearance at Newgate, or perhaps before the Lord -Chancellor, or a visit from policemen who would be empowered to search for -and carry off the iron box. And then there was so little in her London -life to gratify her! It is pleasant to win in a fight; but to be always -fighting is not pleasant. Except in those moments, few and far between, in -which she was alone with her cousin Frank--and perhaps in those other -moments in which she wore her diamonds--she had but little in London that -she enjoyed. She still thought that a time would come when it would be -otherwise. Under these influences she had actually made herself believe -that she was sighing for the country, and for solitude; for the wide -expanse of her own bright waves--as she had called them--and for the rocks -of dear Portray. She had told Miss Macnulty and Augusta Fawn that she -thirsted for the breezes of Ayrshire, so that she might return to her -books and her thoughts. Amid the whirl of London it was impossible either -to read or to think. And she believed it too herself. She so believed it -that on the first morning of her arrival she took a little volume in her -pocket, containing Shelley's "Queen Mab," and essayed to go down upon the -rocks. She had actually breakfasted at nine, and was out on the sloping -grounds below the castle before ten, having made some boast to Miss -Macnulty about the morning air. - -She scrambled down, not very far down, but a little way beneath the garden -gate, to a spot on which a knob of rock cropped out from the scanty -herbage of the incipient cliff. Fifty yards lower the real rocks began; -and, though the real rocks were not very rocky, not precipitous or even -bold, and were partially covered with salt-fed mosses down almost to the -sea, nevertheless they justified her in talking about her rock-bound -shore. The shore was hers, for her life, and it was rock-bound, This knob -she had espied from her windows; and, indeed, had been thinking of it for -the last week, as a place appropriate to solitude and Shelley. She had -stood on it before, and had stretched her arms with enthusiasm toward the -just-visible mountains of Arran. On that occasion the weather, perhaps, -had been cool; but now a blazing sun was overhead, and when she had been -seated half a minute, and "Queen Mab" had been withdrawn from her pocket, -she found that it would not do. It would not do even with the canopy she -could make for herself with her parasol. So she stood up and looked about -herself for shade; for shade in some spot in which she could still look -out upon "her dear wide ocean with its glittering smile." For it was thus -that she would talk about the mouth of the Clyde. Shelter near her there -was none. The scrubby trees lay nearly half a mile to the right, and up -the hill too. She had once clambered down to the actual shore, and might -do so again. But she doubted that there would be shelter even there; and -the clambering up on that former occasion had been a nuisance, and would -be a worse nuisance now. Thinking of all this, and feeling the sun keenly, -she gradually retraced her steps to the garden within the moat, and seated -herself, Shelley in hand, within the summer-house. The bench was narrow, -hard, and broken; and there were some snails which discomposed her; but, -nevertheless, she would make the best of it. Her darling "Queen Mab" must -be read without the coarse, inappropriate, every-day surroundings of a -drawing-room; and it was now manifest to her that unless she could get up -much earlier in the morning, or come out to her reading after sunset, the -knob of rock would not avail her. - -She began her reading, resolved that she would enjoy her poetry in spite -of the narrow seat. She had often talked of "Queen Mab," and perhaps she -thought she had read it. This, however, was in truth her first attempt at -that work. "How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep." Then she -half-closed the volume, and thought that she enjoyed the idea. Death-and -his brother Sleep! She did not know why they should be more wonderful than -Action, or Life, or Thought; but the words were of a nature which would -enable her to remember them, and they would be good for quoting. "Sudden -arose Ianthe's soul; it stood All beautiful in naked purity." The name of -Ianthe suited her exactly. And the antithesis conveyed to her mind by -naked purity struck her strongly, and she determined to learn the passage -by heart. Eight or nine lines were printed separately, like a stanza, and -the labour would not be great, and the task, when done, would be complete. -"Instinct with inexpressible beauty and grace, Each stain of earthliness -Had passed away, it reassumed Its native dignity, and stood Immortal amid -ruin." Which was instinct with beauty, the stain or the soul, she did not -stop to inquire, and may be excused for not understanding. "Ah," she -exclaimed to herself, "how true it is; how one feels it; how it comes home -to one!--Sudden arose Ianthe's soul.'" And then she walked about the -garden, repeating the words to herself, and almost forgetting the heat. -"'Each stain of earthliness had passed away.' Ha; yes. They will pass away -and become instinct with beauty and grace." A dim idea came upon her that -when this happy time should arrive, no one would claim her necklace from -her, and that the man at the stables would not be so disagreeably punctual -in sending in his bill. "'All beautiful in naked purity!'" What a tawdry -world was this in which clothes and food and houses are necessary! How -perfectly that boy poet had understood it all. "'Immortal amid ruin'!" She -liked the idea of the ruin almost as well as that of the immortality, and -the stains quite as well as the purity. As immortality must come, and as -stains were instinct with grace, why be afraid of ruin? But then, if -people go wrong--at least women--they are not asked out anywhere! "'Sudden -arose Ianthe's soul; it stood all beautiful----.'" And so the piece was -learned, and Lizzie felt that she had devoted her hour to poetry in a -quite rapturous manner. At any rate she had a bit to quote; and though in -truth she did not understand the exact bearing of the image, she had so -studied her gestures and so modulated her voice, that she knew that she -could be effective. She did not then care to carry her reading further, -but returned with the volume into the house. Though the passage about -Ianthe's soul comes very early in the work, she was now quite familiar -with the poem, and when in after days she spoke of it as a thing of beauty -that she had made her own by long study, she actually did not know that -she was lying. As she grew older, however, she quickly became wiser, and -was aware that in learning one passage of a poem it is expedient to select -one in the middle or at the end. The world is so cruelly observant -nowadays that even men and women who have not themselves read their "Queen -Mab" will know from what part of the poem a morsel is extracted, and will -not give you credit for a page beyond that from which your passage comes. - -After lunch Lizzie invited Miss Macnulty to sit at the open window of the -drawing-room and look out upon the "glittering waves." In giving Miss -Macnulty her due we must acknowledge that, though she owned no actual -cleverness herself, had no cultivated tastes, read but little, and that -little of a colourless kind, and thought nothing of her hours but that she -might get rid of them and live, yet she had a certain power of insight, -and could see a thing. Lizzie Eustace was utterly powerless to impose upon -her. Such as Lizzie was, Miss Macnulty was willing to put up with her and -accept her bread. The people whom she had known had been either worthless ---as had been her own father, or cruel--like Lady Linlithgow, or false--as -was Lady Eustace. Miss Macnulty knew that worthlessness, cruelty, and -falseness had to be endured by such as she. And she could bear them -without caring much about them; not condemning them, even within her own -heart, very heavily. But she was strangely deficient in this, that she -could not call these qualities by other names, even to the owners of them. -She was unable to pretend to believe Lizzie's rhapsodies. It was hardly -conscience or a grand spirit of truth that actuated her, as much as a want -of the courage needed for lying. She had not had the face to call old Lady -Linlithgow kind, and therefore old Lady Linlithgow had turned her out of -the house. When Lady Eustace called on her for sympathy, she had not -courage enough to dare to attempt the bit of acting which would be -necessary for sympathetic expression. She was like a dog or a child, and -was unable not to be true. Lizzie was longing for a little mock sympathy-- -was longing to show off her Shelley, and was very kind to Miss Macnulty -when she got the poor lady into the recess of the window. "This is nice; -is it not?" she said, as she spread her hand out through the open space -toward the "wide expanse of glittering waves." - -"Very nice, only it glares so," said Miss Macnulty. - -"Ah, I love the full warmth of the real summer. With me it always seems -that the sun is needed to bring to true ripeness the fruit of the heart." -Nevertheless she had been much troubled both by the heat and by the midges -when she tried to sit on the stone. "I always think of those few glorious -days which I passed with my darling Florian at Naples; days too glorious -because they were so few." Now Miss Macnulty knew some of the history of -those days and of their glory, and knew also how the widow had borne her -loss. - -"I suppose the bay of Naples is fine," she said. - -"It is not only the bay. There are scenes there which ravish you, only it -is necessary that there should be some one with you that can understand -you. 'Soul of Ianthe!'" she said, meaning to apostrophise that of the -deceased Sir Florian. "You have read 'Queen Mab'?" - -"I don't know that I ever did. If I have, I have forgotten it." - -"Ah, you should read it. I know nothing in the English language that -brings home to one so often one's own best feelings and aspirations. 'It -stands all beautiful in naked purity,'" she continued, still alluding to -poor Sir Florian's soul. "'Instinct with inexpressible beauty and grace, -each stain of earthliness had passed away.' I can see him now in all his -manly beauty, as we used to sit together by the hour, looking over the -waters. Oh, Julia, the thing itself has gone, the earthly reality; but the -memory of it will live forever." - -"He was a very handsome man certainly," said Miss Macnulty, finding -herself forced to say something. - -"I see him now," she went on, still gazing out upon the shining water. -"'It reassumed its native dignity and stood primeval amid ruin.' Is not -that a glorious idea, gloriously worded?" She had forgotten one word and -used a wrong epithet; but it sounded just as well. Primeval seemed to her -to be a very poetical word. - -"To tell the truth," said Miss Macnulty, "I never understand poetry when -it is quoted unless I happen to know the passage beforehand. I think I'll -go away from this, for the light is too much for my poor old eyes." -Certainly Miss Macnulty had fallen into a profession for which she was not -suited. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -LADY EUSTACE PROCURES A PONY FOR THE USE OF HER COUSIN - - -Lady Eustace could make nothing of Miss Macnulty in the way of sympathy, -and could not bear her disappointment with patience. It was hardly to be -expected that she should do so. She paid a great deal for Miss Macnulty. -In a moment of rash generosity, and at a time when she hardly knew what -money meant, she had promised Miss Macnulty seventy pounds for the first -year and seventy for the second, should the arrangement last longer than a -twelvemonth. The second year had been now commenced, and Lady Eustace was -beginning to think that seventy pounds was a great deal of money when so -very little was given in return. Lady Linlithgow had paid her dependent no -fixed salary. And then there was the lady's "keep" and first-class -travelling when they went up and down to Scotland, and cab-fares in London -when it was desirable that Miss Macnulty should absent herself. Lizzie, -reckoning all up, and thinking that for so much her friend ought to be -ready to discuss Ianthe's soul, or any other kindred subject, at a -moment's warning, would become angry and would tell herself that she was -being swindled out of her money. She knew how necessary it was that she -should have some companion at the present emergency of her life, and -therefore could not at once send Miss Macnulty away; but she would -sometimes become very cross and would tell poor Macnulty that she was--a -fool. Upon the whole, however, to be called a fool was less objectionable -to Miss Macnulty than were demands for sympathy which she did not know how -to give. - -Those first ten days of August went very slowly with Lady Eustace. "Queen -Mab" got itself poked away, and was heard of no more. But there were other -books. A huge box full of novels had come down, and Miss Macnulty was a -great devourer of novels. If Lady Eustace would talk to her about the -sorrows of the poorest heroine that ever saw her lover murdered before her -eyes, and then come to life again with ten thousand pounds a year, for a -period of three weeks--or till another heroine, who had herself been -murdered, obliterated the former horrors from her plastic mind--Miss -Macnulty could discuss the catastrophe with the keenest interest. And -Lizzie, finding herself to be, as she told herself, unstrung, fell also -into novel-reading. She had intended during this vacant time to master the -"Faery Queen"; but the "Faery Queen" fared even worse than "Queen Mab"; -and the studies of Portray Castle were confined to novels. For poor -Macnulty, if she could only be left alone, this was well enough. To have -her meals, and her daily walk, and her fill of novels, and to be left -alone, was all that she asked of the gods. But it was not so with Lady -Eustace, She asked much more than that, and was now thoroughly -discontented with her own idleness. She was sure that she could have read -Spenser from sunrise to sundown, with no other break than an hour or two -given to Shelley, if only there had been some one to sympathise with her -in her readings. But there was no one, and she was very cross. Then there -came a letter to her from her cousin, which for that morning brought some -life back to the castle. "I have seen Lord Fawn," said the letter, "and I -have also seen Mr. Camperdown. As it would be very hard to explain what -took place at these interviews by letter, and as I shall be at Portray -Castle on the 20th, I will not make the attempt. We shall go down by the -night train, and I will get over to you as soon as I have dressed and had -my breakfast. I suppose I can find some kind of a pony for the journey. -The 'we' consists of myself and my friend Mr. Herriot, a man whom I think -you will like, if you will condescend to see him, though he is a barrister -like myself. You need express no immediate condescension in his favour, as -I shall of course come over alone on Wednesday morning. Yours always -affectionately, F. G." - -The letter she received on the Sunday morning, and as the Wednesday named -for Frank's coming was the next Wednesday, and was close at hand, she was -in rather a better humour than she had displayed since the poets had -failed her. "What a blessing it will be," she said, "to have somebody to -speak to." - -This was not complimentary, but Miss Macnulty did not want compliments. -"Yes, indeed," she said. "Of course you will be glad to see your cousin." - -"I shall be glad to see anything in the shape of a man. I declare I have -felt almost inclined to ask the minister from Craigie to elope with me." - -"He has got seven children," said Miss Macnulty. - -"Yes, poor man, and a wife, and not more than enough to live upon. I -daresay he would have come. By the by, I wonder whether there's a pony -about the place." - -"A pony!" Miss Macnulty of course supposed that it was needed for the -purpose of the suggested elopement. - -"Yes; I suppose you know what a pony is? Of course there ought to be a -shooting pony at the cottage for these men. My poor head has so many -things to work upon that I had forgotten it; and you're never any good at -thinking of things." - -"I didn't know that gentlemen wanted ponies for shooting." - -"I wonder what you do know? Of course there must be a pony." - -"I suppose you'll want two?" - -"No, I sha'n't. You don't suppose that men always go riding about. But I -want one. What had I better do?" Miss Macnulty suggested that Gowran -should be consulted. Now Gowran was the steward, and bailiff, and manager, -and factotum about the place, who bought a cow or sold one if occasion -required, and saw that nobody stole anything, and who knew the boundaries -of the farms, and all about the tenants, and looked after the pipes when -frost came, and was an honest, domineering, hard-working, intelligent -Scotchman, who had been brought up to love the Eustaces, and who hated his -present mistress with all his heart. He did not leave her service, having -an idea in his mind that it was now the great duty of his life to save -Portray from her ravages. Lizzie fully returned the compliment of the -hatred, and was determined to rid herself of Andy Gowran's services as -soon as possible. He had been called Andy by the late Sir Florian, and, -though every one else about the place called him Mr. Gowran, Lady Eustace -thought it became her, as the man's mistress, to treat him as he had been -treated by the late master. So she called him Andy. But she was resolved -to get rid of him, as soon as she should dare. There were things which it -was essential that somebody about the place should know, and no one knew -them but Mr. Gowran. Every servant in the castle might rob her, were it -not for the protection afforded by Mr. Gowran. In that affair of the -garden it was Mr. Gowran who had enabled her to conquer the horticultural -Leviathan who had oppressed her, and who, in point of wages, had been a -much bigger man than Mr. Gowran himself. She trusted Mr. Gowran and hated -him, whereas Mr. Gowran hated her, and did not trust her. - -"I believe you think that nothing can be done at Portray except by that -man," said Lady Eustace. - -"He'll know how much you ought to pay for the pony." - -"Yes, and get some brute not fit for my cousin to ride, on purpose, -perhaps, to break his neck." - -"Then I should ask Mr. Macallum, the postmaster of Troon, for I have seen -three or four very quiet-looking ponies standing in the carts at his -door." - -"Macnulty, if there ever was an idiot you are one," said Lady Eustace, -throwing up her hands. "To think that I should get a pony for my cousin -Frank out of one of the mail carts." - -"I daresay I am an idiot," said Miss Macnulty, resuming her novel. - -Lady Eustace was, of course, obliged to have recourse to Gowran, to whom -she applied on the Monday morning. Not even Lizzie Eustace, on behalf of -her cousin Frank, would have dared to disturb Mr. Gowran with -considerations respecting a pony on the Sabbath. On the Monday morning she -found Mr. Gowran superintending four boys and three old women, who were -making a bit of her ladyship's hay on the ground above the castle. The -ground about the castle was poor and exposed, and her ladyship's hay was -apt to be late. - -"Andy," she said, "I shall want to get a pony for the gentlemen who are -coming to the cottage. It must be there by Tuesday evening." - -"A pownie, my leddie?" - -"Yes; a pony. I suppose a pony may be purchased in Ayrshire, though of all -places in the world it seems to have the fewest of the comforts of life." - -"Them as find it like that, my leddie, needn't bide there." - -"Never mind. You will have the kindness to have a pony purchased and put -into the stables of the cottage on Tuesday afternoon. There are stables, -no doubt." - -"Oh, ay, there's shelter, nae doot, for mair pownies than they's ride. -When the cottage was biggit, my leddie, there was nae cause for sparing -nowt." Andy Gowran was continually throwing her comparative poverty in -poor Lizzie's teeth, and there was nothing he could do which displeased -her more. - -"And I needn't spare my cousin the use of a pony," she said -grandiloquently, but feeling as she did so that she was exposing herself -before the man. "You'll have the goodness to procure one for him on -Tuesday." - -"But there ain't aits nor yet fother, nor nowt for bedding down. And wha's -to tent the pownie? There's mair in keeping a pownie than your leddyship -thinks. It'll be a matter of auchten and saxpence a week, will a pownie." -Mr. Gowran, as he expressed his prudential scruples, put a very strong -emphasis indeed on the sixpence. - -"Very well. Let it be so." - -"And there'll be the beastie to buy, my leddie. He'll be--a lump of money, -my leddie. Pownies ain't to be had for nowt in Ayrshire, as was ance, my -leddie." - -"Of course, I must pay for him." - -"He'll be a matter of--ten pound, my leddie." - -"Very well." - -"Or may be twal; just as likely." And Mr. Gowran shook his head at his -mistress in a most uncomfortable way. It was not strange that she should -hate him. - -"You must give the proper price--of course." - -"There ain't no proper prices for pownies--as there is for jew'ls and sich -like." If this was intended for sarcasm upon Lady Eustace in regard to her -diamonds, Mr. Gowran ought to have been dismissed on the spot. In such a -case no English jury would have given him his current wages. "And he'll be -to sell again, my leddie?" - -"We shall see about that afterwards." - -"Ye'll never let him eat his head off there a' the winter! He'll be to -sell. And the gentles'll ride him, may be, ance across the hillside, out -and back. As to the grouse, they can't cotch them with the pownie, for -there ain't none to cotch." There had been two keepers on the mountains-- -men who were paid five or six shillings a week to look after the game in -addition to their other callings, and one of these had been sent away, -actually in obedience to Gowran's advice; so that this blow was cruel and -unmanly. He made it, too, as severe as he could by another shake of his -head. - -"Do you mean to tell me that my cousin cannot be supplied with an animal -to ride upon?" - -"My leddie, I've said nowt o' the kind. There ain't no useful animal as I -kens the name and nature of as he can't have in Ayrshire--for paying for -it, my leddie; horse, pownie, or ass, just whichever you please, my -leddie. But there'll be a seddle--" - -"A what?" - -There can be no doubt that Gowran purposely slurred the word so that his -mistress should not understand him. "Seddles don't come for nowt, my -leddie, though it be Ayrshire." - -"I don't understand what it is that you say, Andy." - -"A seddle, my leddie," said he, shouting the word at her at the top of his -voice--"and a briddle. I suppose as your leddy-ship's cousin don't ride -bareback up in Lunnon?" - -"Of course there must be the necessary horse-furniture," said Lady -Eustace, retiring to the castle. Andy Gowran had certainly ill-used her, -and she swore that she would have revenge. Nor when, she was informed on -the Tuesday that an adequate pony had been hired for eighteen pence a day, -saddle, bridle, groom, and all included, was her heart at all softened -towards Mr. Gowran. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -FRANK GREYSTOCK'S FIRST VISIT TO PORTRAY - - -Had Frank Greystock known all that his cousin endured for his comfort, -would he have been grateful? Women, when they are fond of men, do think -much of men's comfort in small matters, and men are apt to take the good -things provided almost as a matter of course. When Frank Greystock and -Herriot reached the cottage about nine o'clock in the morning, having left -London over night by the limited mail train, the pony at once presented -itself to them. It was a little shaggy, black beast, with a boy almost as -shaggy as itself, but they were both good of their kind. "Oh, you're the -laddie with the pownie, are you?" said Frank, in answer to an announcement -made to him by the boy. He did at once perceive that Lizzie had taken -notice of the word in his note in which he had suggested that some means -of getting over to Portray would be needed, and he learned from the fact -that she was thinking of him and anxious to see him. - -His friend was a man a couple of years younger than himself, who had -hitherto achieved no success at the bar, but who was nevertheless a -clever, diligent, well-instructed man. He was what the world calls -penniless, having an income from his father just sufficient to keep him -like a gentleman. He was not much known as a sportsman, his opportunities -for shooting not having been great; but he dearly loved the hills and -fresh air, and the few grouse which were--or were not--on Lady Eustace's -mountains would go as far with him as they would with any man. Before he -had consented to come with Frank, he had specially inquired whether there -was a game-keeper, and it was not till he had been assured that there was -no officer attached to the estate worthy of such a name, that he had -consented to come upon his present expedition. "I don't clearly know what -a gillie is," he said in answer to one of Frank's explanations. "If a -gillie means a lad without any breeches on, I don't mind; but I couldn't -stand a severe man got up in well-made velveteens, who would see through -my ignorance in a moment, and make known by comment the fact that he had -done so." Greystock had promised that there should be, no severity, and -Herriot had come. Greystock brought with him two guns, two fishing-rods, a -man-servant, and a huge hamper from Fortnum and Mason's. Arthur Herriot, -whom the attorneys had not yet loved, brought some very thick boots, a -pair of knickerbockers, together with Stone and Toddy's "Digest of the -Common Law." The best of the legal profession consists in this--that when -you get fairly at work you may give over working. An aspirant must learn -everything; but a man may make his fortune at it, and know almost nothing. -He may examine a witness with judgment, see through a case with precision, -address a jury with eloquence, and yet be altogether ignorant of law. But -he must be believed to be a very pundit before he will get a chance of -exercising his judgment, his precision, or his eloquence. The men whose -names are always in the newspapers never look at their Stone and Toddy-- -care for it not at all--have their Stone and Toddy got up for them by -their juniors when cases require that reference shall be made to -precedents. But till that blessed time has come, a barrister who means -success should carry his Stone and Toddy with him everywhere. Greystock -never thought of the law now, unless he had some special case in hand; but -Herriot could not afford to go out on a holiday without two volumes of -Stone and Toddy's Digest in his portmanteau. - -"You won't mind being left alone for the first morning?" said Frank, as -soon as they had finished the contents of one of the pots from Fortnum and -Mason. - -"Not in the least. Stone and Toddy will carry me through." - -"I'd go on the mountain if I were you, and get into a habit of steady -loading." - -"Perhaps I will take a turn--just to find out how I feel in the -knickerbockers. At what time shall I dine if you don't come back?" - -"I shall certainly be here to dinner," said Frank, "unless the pony fails -me or I get lost on the mountain." Then he started, and Herriot at once -went to work on Stone and Toddy, with a pipe in his mouth. He had -travelled all night, and it is hardly necessary to say that in five -minutes he was fast asleep. - -So also had Frank travelled all night, but the pony and the fresh air kept -him awake. The boy had offered to go with him, but that he had altogether -refused; and, therefore, to his other cares was that of finding his way. -The sweep of the valleys, however, is long and not abrupt, and he could -hardly miss his road if he would only make one judicious turn through a -gap in a certain wall which lay half way between the cottage and the -castle. He was thinking of the work in hand, and he found the gap without -difficulty. When through that he ascended the hill for two miles, and then -the sea was before him, and Portray Castle, lying, as it seemed to him at -that distance, close upon the seashore. "Upon my word, Lizzie has not done -badly with herself," he said almost aloud, as he looked down upon the fair -sight beneath him, and round upon the mountains, and remembered that, for -her life at least, it was all hers, and after her death would belong to -her son. What more does any human being desire of such a property than -that? - -He rode down to the great doorway--the mountain track, which fell on to -the road about half a mile from the castle, having been plain enough--and -there he gave up the pony into the hands of no less a man that Mr. Gowran -himself. Gowran had watched the pony coming down the mountain side, and -had desired to see of what like was "her leddyship's" cousin. In telling -the whole truth of Mr. Gowran it must be acknowledged that he thought that -his late master had made a very great mistake in the matter of his -marriage. He could not imagine bad things enough of Lady Eustace, and -almost believed that she was not now, and hadn't been before her marriage, -any better than she should be. The name of Admiral Greystock, as having -been the father of his mistress, had indeed reached his ears, but Andy -Gowran was a suspicious man and felt no confidence even in an admiral--in -regard to whom he heard nothing of his having, or having had, a wife. - -"It's my fer-rm opeenion she's jist naebody--and waur," he had said more -than once to his own wife, nodding his head with great emphasis at the -last word. He was very anxious, therefore, to see "her leddyship's" -cousin. Mr. Gowran thought that he knew a gentleman when he saw one. He -thought, also, that he knew a lady, and that he didn't see one when he was -engaged with his mistress. Cousin, indeed! "For the matter o' that, ony -man that comes the way may be ca'ed a coosin." So Mr. Gowran was on the -grand sweep before the garden gate and took the pony from Frank's hand. - -"Is Lady Eustace at home?" Frank asked. Mr. Gowran perceived that Frank -was a gentleman, and was disappointed. And Frank didn't come as a man -comes who calls himself by a false name, and pretends to be an honest -cousin, when in fact he is something--oh, ever so wicked! Mr. Gowran, who -was a stern moralist, was certainly disappointed at Frank's appearance. - -Lizzie was in a little sitting-room, reached by a long passage with steps -in the middle, at some corner of the castle which seemed a long way from -the great door. It was a cheerful little room, with chintz curtains, and a -few shelves laden with brightly-bound books, which had been prepared for -Lizzie immediately on her marriage. It looked out upon the sea, and she -had almost taught herself to think that here she had sat with her adored -Florian gazing in mutual ecstasy upon the "wide expanse of glittering -waves." She was lying back in a low armchair as her cousin entered, and -she did not rise to receive him. Of course she was alone, Miss Macnulty -having received a suggestion that it would be well that she should do a -little gardening in the moat. "Well, Frank," she said, with her sweetest -smile, as she gave him her hand. She felt and understood the extreme -intimacy which would be implied by her not rising to receive him. As she -could not rush into his arms, there was no device by which she could more -clearly show to him how close she regarded his friendship. - -"So I am at Portray Castle at last," he said, still holding her hand. - -"Yes--at the dullest, dreariest, deadliest spot in all Christendom, I -think--if Ayrshire be Christendom. But never mind about that now. -Perhaps, as you are at the other side of the mountain at the cottage, we -shall find it less dull here at the castle." - -"I thought you were to be so happy here!" - -"Sit down and we'll talk it all over by degrees. What will you have-- -breakfast or lunch?" - -"Neither, thank you." - -"Of course you'll stay to dinner?" - -"No, indeed. I've a man there at the cottage with me who would cut his -throat in his solitude." - -"Let him cut his throat; but never mind now. As for being happy, women are -never happy without men. I needn't tell any lies to you, you know. What -makes me sure that this fuss about making men and women all the same must -be wrong is just the fact that men can get along without women, and women -can't without men. My life has been a burden to me. But never mind. Tell -me about my lord--my lord and master." - -"Lord Fawn?" - -"Who else? What other lord and master? My bosom's own; my heart's best -hope; my spot of terra firma; my cool running brook of fresh water; my -rock; my love; my lord; my all. Is he always thinking of his absent -Lizzie? Does he still toil at Downing Street? Oh, dear; do you remember, -Frank, when he told us that 'one of us must remain in town'?" - -"I have seen him." - -"So you wrote me word." - -"And I have seen a very obstinate, pig-headed, but nevertheless honest and -truth-speaking gentleman." - -"Frank, I don't care twopence for his honesty and truth. If he ill-treats -me----." Then she paused; looking into his face, she had seen at once by -the manner in which he had taken her badinage, without a smile, that it -was necessary that she should be serious as to her matrimonial prospects. -"I suppose I had better let you tell your story," she said, "and I will -sit still and listen." - -"He means to ill-treat you." - -"And you will let him?" - -"You had better listen, as you promised, Lizzie. He declares that the -marriage must be off at once unless you will send those diamonds to Mr. -Camperdown or to the jewellers." - -"And by what law or rule does he justify himself in a decision so -monstrous? Is he prepared to prove that the property is not my own?" - -"If you ask me my opinion as a lawyer, I doubt whether any such proof can -be shown. But as a man and a friend I do advise you to give them up." - -"Never." - -"You must, of course, judge for yourself, but that is my advice. You had -better, however, hear my whole story." - -"Certainly," said Lizzie. Her whole manner was now changed. She had -extricated herself from the crouching position in which her feet, her -curl, her arms, her whole body had been so arranged as to combine the -charm of her beauty with the charm of proffered intimacy. Her dress was -such as a woman would wear to receive her brother, and yet it had been -studied. She had no gems about her but what she might well wear in her -ordinary life, and yet the very rings on her fingers had not been put on -without reference to her cousin Frank. Her position had been one of -lounging ease, such as a woman might adopt when all alone, giving herself -all the luxuries of solitude; but she had adopted it in special reference -to cousin Frank. Now she was in earnest, with business before her; and -though it may be said of her that she could never forget her appearance in -presence of a man whom she desired to please, her curl and rings, and -attitude were for the moment in the background. She had seated herself on -a common chair, with her hands upon the table, and was looking into -Frank's face with eager, eloquent, and combative eyes. She would take his -law, because she believed in it; but, as far as she could see as yet, she -would not take his advice unless it were backed by his law. - -"Mr. Camperdown," continued Greystock, "has consented to prepare a case -for opinion, though he will not agree that the Eustace estate shall be -bound by that opinion." - -"Then what's the good of it?" - -"We shall at least know, all of us, what is the opinion of some lawyer -qualified to understand the circumstances of the case." - -"Why isn't your opinion as good as that of any lawyer?" - -"I couldn't give an opinion; not otherwise than as a private friend to -you, which is worth nothing unless for your private guidance. Mr. -Camperdown----" - -"I don't care one straw for Mr. Camperdown." - -"Just let me finish." - -"Oh, certainly; and you mustn't be angry with me, Frank. The matter is so -much to me; isn't it?" - -"I won't be angry. Do I look as if I were angry? Mr. Camperdown is right." - -"I dare say he may be what you call right. But I don't care about Mr. -Camperdown a bit." - -"He has no power, nor has John Eustace any power, to decide that the -property which may belong to a third person shall be jeopardised by any -arbitration. The third person could not be made to lose his legal right by -any such arbitration, and his claim, if made, would still have to be -tried." - -"Who is the third person, Frank?" - -"Your own child at present." - -"And will not he have it any way?" - -"Camperdown and John Eustace say that it belongs to him at present. It is -a point that, no doubt, should be settled." - -"To whom do you say that it belongs?" - -"That is a question I am not prepared to answer." - -"To whom do you think that it belongs?" - -"I have refused to look at a single paper on the subject, and my opinion -is worth nothing. From what I have heard in conversation with Mr. -Camperdown and John Eustace, I cannot find that they make their case -good." - -"Nor can I," said Lizzie., - -"A case is to be prepared for Mr. Dove." - -"Who is Mr. Dove?" - -"Mr. Dove is a barrister, and no doubt a very clever fellow. If his -opinion be such as Mr. Camperdown expects, he will at once proceed against -you at law for the immediate recovery of the necklace." - -"I shall be ready for him," said Lizzie, and as she spoke all her little -feminine softnesses were for the moment laid aside. - -"If Mr. Dove's opinion be in your favour----" - -"Well," said Lizzie, "what then?" - -"In that case Mr. Camperdown, acting on behalf of John Eustace and young -Florian----" - -"How dreadful it is to hear of my bitterest enemy acting on behalf of my -own child!" said Lizzie, holding up her hands piteously. "Well?" - -"In that case Mr. Camperdown will serve you with some notice that the -jewels are not yours, to part with them as you may please." - -"But they will be mine." - -"He says not; but in such case he will content himself with taking steps -which may prevent you from selling them." - -"Who says that I want to sell them?" demanded Lizzie indignantly. - -"Or from giving them away, say to a second husband." - -"How little they know me!" - -"Now I have told you all about Mr. Camperdown." - -"Yes." - -"And the next thing is to tell you about Lord Fawn." - -"That is everything. I care nothing for Mr. Camperdown; nor yet for Mr. -Dove--if that is his absurd name. Lord Fawn is of more moment to me, -though, indeed, he has given me but little cause to say so." - -"In the first place, I must explain to you that Lord Fawn is very -unhappy." - -"He may thank himself for it." - -"He is pulled this way and that, and is half distraught; but he has stated -with as much positive assurance as such a man can assume, that the match -must be regarded as broken off unless you will at once restore the -necklace." - -"He does?" - -"He has commissioned me to give you that message; and it is my duty, -Lizzie, as your friend, to tell you my conviction that he repents his -engagement." - -She now rose from her chair and began to walk about the room. "He shall -not go back from it. He shall learn that I am not a creature at his own -disposal in that way. He shall find that I have some strength if you have -none." - -"What would you have had me do?" - -"Taken him by the throat," said Lizzie. - -"Taking by the throat in these days seldom forwards any object, unless the -taken one be known to the police. I think Lord Fawn is behaving very -badly, and I have told him so. No doubt he is under the influence of -others--mother and sisters--who are not friendly to you." - -"False-faced idiots!" said Lizzie. - -"He himself is somewhat afraid of me--is much afraid of you--is afraid of -what people will say of him; and, to give him his due, is afraid also of -doing what is wrong. He is timid, weak, conscientious, and wretched. If -you have set your heart upon marrying him----" - -"My heart!" said Lizzie scornfully. - -"Or your mind, you can have him by simply sending the diamonds to the -jewellers. Whatever may be his wishes, in that case he will redeem his -word." - -"Not for him or all that belongs to him! It wouldn't be much. He's just a -pauper with a name." - -"Then your loss will be so much the less." - -"But what right has he to treat me so? Did you ever before hear of such a -thing? Why is he to be allowed to go back, without punishment, more than -another?" - -"What punishment would you wish?" - -"That he should be beaten within an inch of his life; and if the inch were -not there, I should not complain." - -"And I am to do it, to my absolute ruin and to your great injury?" - -"I think I could almost do it myself." And Lizzie raised her hand as -though there were some weapon in it. "But, Frank, there must be something. -You wouldn't have me sit down and bear it. All the world has been told of -the engagement. There must be some punishment." - -"You would not wish to have an action brought for breach of promise?" - -"I would wish to do whatever would hurt him most without hurting myself," -said Lizzie. - -"You won't give up the necklace?" said Frank. - -"Certainly not," said Lizzie. "Give it up for his sake--a man that I have -always despised?" - -"Then you had better let him go." - -"I will not let him go. What, to be pointed at as the woman that Lord Fawn -had jilted? Never! My necklace should be nothing more to him than this -ring." And she drew from her finger a little circlet of gold with a stone, -for which she had owed Messrs. Harter & Benjamin five-and-thirty pounds -till Sir Florian had settled that account for her. "What cause can he give -for such treatment?" - -"He acknowledges that there is no cause which he can state openly." - -"And I am to bear it? And it is you that tell me so? Oh, Frank!" - -"Let us understand each other, Lizzie. I will not fight him, that is, with -pistols; nor will I attempt to thrash him. It would be useless to argue -whether public opinion is right or wrong; but public opinion is now so -much opposed to that kind of thing that it is out of the question. I -should injure your position and destroy my own. If you mean to quarrel -with me on that score, you had better say so." - -Perhaps at that moment he almost wished that she would quarrel with him, -but she was otherwise disposed. "Oh, Frank," she said, "do not desert me." - -"I will not desert you." - -"You feel that I am ill-used, Frank." - -"I do. I think that his conduct is inexcusable." - -"And there is to be no punishment?" she asked, with that strong -indignation at injustice which the unjust always feel when they are -injured. - -"If you carry yourself well, quietly and with dignity, the world will -punish him." - -"I don't believe a bit of it. I am not a Patient Grizel who can content -myself with heaping benefits on those who injure me, and then thinking -that they are coals of fire. Lucy Morris is one of that sort." Frank ought -to have resented the attack, but he did not. "I have no such tame virtues. -I'll tell him to his face what he is. I'll lead him such a life that he -shall be sick of the very name of a necklace." - -"You cannot ask him to marry you." - -"I will. What, not ask a man to keep his promise when you are engaged to -him? I am not going to be such a girl as that." - -"Do you love him, then?" - -"Love him! I hate him. I always despised him, and now I hate him." - -"And yet you would marry him?" - -"Not for worlds, Frank. No. Because you advised me I thought that I would -do so. Yes, you did, Frank. But for you I would never have dreamed of -taking him. You know, Frank, how it was, when you told me of him and -wouldn't come to me yourself." Now again she was sitting close to him and -had her hand upon his arm. "No, Frank; even to please you I could not -marry him now. But I'll tell you what I'll do. He shall ask me again. In -spite of those idiots at Richmond he shall kneel at my feet, necklace or -no necklace; and then--then I'll tell him what I think of him. Marry him! -I would not touch him with a pair of tongs." As she said this she was -holding her cousin fast by the hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -SHOWING WHAT FRANK GREYSTOCK THOUGHT ABOUT MARRIAGE - - -It had not been much after noon when Frank Greystock reached Portray -Castle, and it was very nearly five when he left it. Of course he had -lunched with the two ladies, and as the conversation before lunch had been -long and interesting, they did not sit down till near three. Then Lizzie -had taken him out to show him the grounds and garden, and they had -clambered together down to the sea-beach. "Leave me here," she had said -when he insisted on going because of his friend at the cottage. When he -suggested that she would want help to climb back up the rocks to the -castle, she shook her head as though her heart was too full to admit of a -consideration so trifling. "My thoughts flow more freely here with the -surge of the water in my ears than they will with that old woman droning -to me. I come here often, and know every rock and every stone." That was -not exactly true, as she had never been down but once before. "You mean to -come again." He told her that of course he should come again. "I will name -neither day nor hour. I have nothing to take me away. If I am not at the -castle, I shall be at this spot. Good-by, Frank." He took her in his arm? -and kissed her, of course as a brother; and then he clambered up, got on -his pony, and rode away. - -"I dinna ken just what to mak' o' him," said Gowran to his wife. "May be -he is her coosin; but coosins are nae that sib that a weeder is to be -hailed aboot jist ane as though she were ony quean at a fair." From which -it may be inferred that Mr. Gowran had watched the pair as they were -descending together toward the shore. - -Frank had so much to think of, riding back to the cottage, that when he -came to the gap, instead of turning round along the wall down the valley, -he took the track right on across the mountain and lost his way. He had -meant to be back at the cottage by three or four, and yet had made his -visit to the castle so long that without any losing of his way he could -not have been there before seven. As it was, when that hour arrived, he -was up on the top of a hill and could again see Portray Castle clustering -down close upon the sea, and the thin belt of trees and the shining water -beyond; but of the road to the cottage he knew nothing. For a moment he -thought of returning to Portray, till he had taught himself to perceive -that the distance was much greater than it had been from the spot at which -he had first seen the castle in the morning; and then he turned his pony -round and descended on the other side. - -His mind was very full of Lizzie Eustace, and full also of Lucy Morris. If -it were to be asserted here that a young man may be perfectly true to a -first young woman while he is falling n love with a second, the readers of -this story would probably be offended. But undoubtedly many men believe -themselves to be quite true while undergoing this process, and many young -women expect nothing else from their lovers. If only he will come right at -last, they are contented. And if he don't come right at all, it is the way -of the world, and the game has to be played over again. Lucy Morris, no -doubt, had lived a life too retired for the learning of such useful -forbearance, but Frank Greystock was quite a proficient. He still -considered himself to be true to Lucy Morris, with a truth seldom found in -this degenerate age--with a truth to which he intended to sacrifice some -of the brightest hopes of his life--with a truth which, after much -thought, he had generously preferred to his ambition. Perhaps there was -found some shade of regret to tinge the merit which he assumed on this -head, in respect of the bright things which it would be necessary that he -should abandon; but if so, the feeling only assisted him in defending his -present conduct from any aspersions his conscience might bring against it. -He intended to marry Lucy Morris, without a shilling, without position, a -girl who had earned her bread as a governess, simply because he loved her. -It was a wonder to himself that he, a lawyer, a man of the world, a member -of Parliament, one who had been steeped up to his shoulders in the ways of -the world, should still be so pure as to be capable of such, a sacrifice. -But it was so; and the sacrifice would undoubtedly be made some day. It -would be absurd in one conscious of such high merit to be afraid of the -ordinary social incidents of life. It is the debauched broken drunkard who -should become a teetotaller, and not the healthy, hard-working father of a -family who never drinks a drop of wine till dinner-time. He need not be -afraid of a glass of champagne when, on a chance occasion, he goes to a -picnic. Frank Greystock was now going to his picnic; and, though he meant -to be true to Lucy Morris, he had enjoyed his glass of champagne with -Lizzie Eustace under the rocks. He was thinking a good deal of his -champagne when he lost his way. - -What a wonderful woman was his cousin Lizzie, and so unlike any other girl -he had ever seen! How full she was of energy, how courageous, and, then, -how beautiful! No doubt her special treatment of him was sheer flattery. -He told himself that it was so. But, after all, flattery is agreeable. -That she did like him better than anybody else was probable. He could have -no feeling of the injustice he might do to the heart of a woman who at the -very moment that she was expressing her partiality for him was also -expressing her anger that another man would not consent to marry her. And -then women who have had one husband already are not like young girls in -respect to their hearts. So at least thought Frank Greystock. Then he -remembered the time at which he had intended to ask Lizzie to be his wife ---the very day on which he would have done so had he been able to get away -from that early division at the House--and he asked himself whether he -felt any regret on that score. It would have been very nice to come down -to Portray Castle as to his own mansion after the work of the courts and -of the session. Had Lizzie become his wife, her fortune would have helped -him to the very highest steps beneath the throne. At present he was almost -nobody--because he was so poor, and in debt. It was so, undoubtedly; but -what did all that matter in comparison with the love of Lucy Morris? A man -is bound to be true. And he would be true. Only, as a matter of course, -Lucy must wait. - -When he had first kissed his cousin up in London, she suggested that the -kiss was given as by a brother, and asserted that it was accepted as by a -sister. He had not demurred, having been allowed the kiss. Nothing of the -kind had been said under the rocks to-day; but then that fraternal -arrangement, when once made and accepted, remains, no doubt, in force for -a long time. He did like his cousin Lizzie. He liked to feel that he could -be her friend, with the power of domineering over her. She, also, was fond -of her own way, and loved to domineer herself; but the moment that he -suggested to her that there might be a quarrel, she was reduced to a -prayer that he would not desert her. Such a friendship has charms for a -young man, especially if the lady be pretty. As to Lizzie's prettiness, no -man or woman could entertain a doubt. And she had a way of making the most -of herself which it was very hard to resist. Some young women, when they -clamber over rocks, are awkward, heavy, unattractive, and troublesome. But -Lizzie had at one moment touched him as a fairy might have done; had -sprung at another from stone to stone, requiring no help; and then, on a -sudden, had become so powerless that he had been forced almost to carry -her in his arms. That, probably, must have been the moment which induced -Mr. Gowran to liken her to a quean at a fair. - -But, undoubtedly, there might be trouble. Frank was sufficiently -experienced in the ways of the world to know that trouble would sometimes -come from young ladies who treat young men like their brothers, when those -young men are engaged to other young ladies. The other young ladies are -apt to disapprove of brothers who are not brothers by absolute right of -birth. He knew also that all the circumstances of his cousin's position -would make it expedient that she should marry a second husband. As he -could not be that second husband--that matter was settled, whether for -good or bad--was he not creating trouble, both for her and for himself? -Then there arose in his mind a feeling, very strange, but by no means -uncommon, that prudence on his part would be mean, because by such -prudence he would be securing safety for himself as well as for her. What -he was doing was not only imprudent, but wrong also, He knew that it was -so. But Lizzie Eustace was a pretty young woman; and when a pretty young -woman is in the case, a man is bound to think neither of what is prudent -nor of what is right. Such was--perhaps his instinct rather than his -theory. For her sake, if not for his own, he should have abstained. She -was his cousin, and was so placed in the world as specially to require -some strong hand to help her. He knew her to be, in truth, heartless, -false, and greedy; but she had so lived that even yet her future life -might be successful. He had called himself her friend as well as cousin, -and was bound to protect her from evil, if protection were possible. But -he was adding to all her difficulties, because she pretended to be in love -with him. He knew that it was pretence; and yet, because she was pretty, -and because he was a man, he could not save her from herself. "It doesn't -do to be wiser than other men," he said to himself as he looked round -about on the bare hill-side. In the mean time he had altogether lost his -way. - -It was between nine and ten when he reached the cottage. "Of course you -have dined?" said Herriot. - -"Not a bit of it. I left before five, being sure that I could get here in -an hour and a half. I have been riding up and down these dreary hills for -nearly five hours. You have dined?" - -"There was a neck of mutton and a chicken. She said the neck of mutton -would keep hot best, so I took the chicken. I hope you like lukewarm neck -of mutton?" - -"I am hungry enough to eat anything; not but what I had a first-rate -luncheon. What have you done all day?" - -"Stone and Toddy," said Herriot. - -"Stick to that. If anything can pull you through, Stone and Toddy will. I -lived upon them for two years." - -"Stone and Toddy, with a little tobacco, have been all my comfort. I -began, however, by sleeping for a few hours. Then I went upon the -mountains." - -"Did you take a gun?" - -"I took it out of the case, but it didn't come right, and so I left it. A -man came to me and said that he was the keeper." - -"He'd have put the gun right for you." - -"I was too bashful for that. I persuaded him that I wanted to go out alone -and see what birds there were, and at last I induced him to stay here with -the old woman. He's to be at the cottage at nine to-morrow. I hope that is -all right." - -In the evening, as they smoked and drank whiskey and water--probably -supposing that to be correct in Ayrshire--they were led on by the combined -warmth of the spirit, the tobacco, and their friendship, to talk about -women. Frank, some month or six weeks since, in a moment of soft -confidence, had told his friend of his engagement with Lucy Morris. Of -Lizzie Eustace he had spoken only as of a cousin whose interests were dear -to him. Her engagement with Lord Fawn was known to all London, and was, -therefore, known to Arthur Herriot. Some distant rumour, however, had -reached him that the course of true love was not running quite smooth, and -therefore on that subject he would not speak, at any rate till Greystock -should first mention it. "How odd it is to find two women living all alone -in a great house like that," Frank had said. - -"Because so few women have the means to live in large houses, unless they -live with fathers or husbands." - -"The truth is," said Frank, "that women don't do well alone. There is -always a savour of misfortune--or, at least, of melancholy--about a -household which has no man to look after it. With us, generally, old maids -don't keep houses, and widows marry again. No doubt it was an unconscious -appreciation of this feeling which brought about the burning of Indian -widows. There is an unfitness in women for solitude. A female Prometheus, -even without a vulture, would indicate cruelty worse even than Jove's. A -woman should marry--once, twice, and thrice if necessary." - -"Women can't marry without men to marry them." - -Frank Greystock filled his pipe as he went on with his lecture. "That idea -as to the greater number of women is all nonsense. Of course we are -speaking of our own kind of men and women, and the disproportion of the -numbers in so small a division of the population amounts to nothing. We -have no statistics to tell us whether there be any such disproportion in -classes where men do not die early from overwork." - -"More females are born than males." - -"That's more than I know. As one of the legislators of the country I am -prepared to state that statistics are always false. What we have to do is -to induce men to marry. We can't do it by statute." - -"No, thank God." - -"Nor yet by fashion." - -"Fashion seems to be going the other way," said Herriot. - -"It can be only done by education and conscience. Take men of forty all -round--men of our own class--you believe that the married men are happier -than the unmarried? I want an answer, you know, just for the sake of the -argument." - -"I think the married men are the happier. But you speak as the fox who had -lost his tail; or, at any rate, as a fox in the act of losing it." - -"Never mind my tail. If morality in life and enlarged affections are -conducive to happiness, it must be so." - -"Short commons and unpaid bills are conducive to misery. That's what I -should say if I wanted to oppose you." - -"I never came across a man willing to speak the truth who did not admit -that, in the long run, married men are the happier. As regards women, -there isn't even ground for an argument. And yet men don't marry." - -"They can't." - -"You mean there isn't food enough in the world." - -"The man fears that he won't get enough of what there is. for his wife and -family." - -"The labourer with twelve shillings a week has no such fear. And if he did -marry, the food would come. It isn't that. The man is unconscientious and -ignorant as to the sources of true happiness, and won't submit himself to -cold mutton and three clean shirts a week--not because he dislikes mutton -and dirty linen himself, but because the world says they are vulgar. -That's the feeling that keeps you from marrying, Herriot." - -"As for me," said Herriot, "I regard myself as so placed that I do not -dare to think of a young woman of my own rank except as a creature that -must be foreign to me. I cannot make such a one my friend as I would a -man, because I should be in love with her at once. And I do not dare to be -in love because I would not see a wife and children starve. I regard my -position as one of enforced monasticism, and myself as a monk under the -cruellest compulsion. I often wish that I had been brought up as a -journeyman hatter." - -"Why a hatter?" - -"I'm told it's an active sort of life. You're fast asleep, and I was just -now, when you were preaching. We'd better go to bed. Nine o'clock for -breakfast, I suppose?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -MR. DOVE'S OPINION - - -Mr. Thomas Dove, familiarly known among clubmen, attorney's clerks, and, -perhaps, even among judges when very far from their seats of judgment, as -Turtle Dove, was a counsel learned in the law. He was a counsel so learned -in the law, that there was no question within the limits of an attorney's -capability of putting to him that he could not answer with the aid of his -books. And when he had once given an opinion, all Westminster could not -move him from it--nor could Chancery Lane and Lincoln's Inn and the Temple -added to Westminster. When Mr. Dove had once been positive, no man on -earth was more positive. It behooved him, therefore, to be right when he -was positive; and though, whether wrong or right, he was equally stubborn, -it must be acknowledged that he was seldom proved to be wrong. -Consequently the attorneys believed in him, and he prospered. He was a -thin man, over fifty years of age, very full of scorn and wrath, impatient -of a fool, and thinking most men to be fools; afraid of nothing on earth-- -and, so his enemies said, of nothing elsewhere; eaten up by conceit; fond -of law, but fonder, perhaps, of dominion; soft as milk to those who -acknowledged his power, but a tyrant to all who contested it; -conscientious, thoughtful, sarcastic, bright-witted, and laborious. He was -a man who never spared himself. If he had a case in hand, though the -interest to himself in it was almost nothing, he would rob himself of rest -for a week, should a point arise which required such labour. It was the -theory of Mr. Dove's life that he would never be beaten. Perhaps it was -some fear in this respect that had kept him from Parliament and confined -him to the courts and the company of attorneys. He was, in truth, a -married man with a family; but they who knew him as the terror of -opponents and as the divulger of legal opinions heard nothing of his wife -and children. He kept all such matters quite to himself, and was not given -to much social intercourse with those among whom his work lay. Out at -Streatham, where he lived, Mrs. Dove probably had her circle of -acquaintance; but Mr. Dove's domestic life and his forensic life were kept -quite separate. - -At the present moment Mr. Dove is interesting to us solely as being the -learned counsel in whom Mr. Camperdown trusted--to whom Mr. Camperdown was -willing to trust for an opinion in so grave a matter as that of the -Eustace diamonds. A case was made out and submitted to Mr. Dove -immediately after that scene on the pavement in Mount Street at which Mr. -Camperdown had endeavoured to induce Lizzie to give up the necklace; and -the following is the opinion which Mr. Dove gave: - -"There is much error about heirlooms. Many think that any chattel may be -made an heirloom by any owner of it. This is not the case. The law, -however, does recognise heirlooms; as to which the Exors. or Admors. are -excluded in favour of the successor; and when there are such heirlooms -they go to the heir by special custom. Any devise of an heirloom is -necessarily void, for the will takes place after death, and the heirloom -is already vested in the heir by custom. We have it from Littleton that -law prefers custom to devise. - -"Brooke says that the best thing of every sort may be an heirloom--such as -the best bed, the best table, the best pot or pan. - -"Coke says that heirlooms are so by custom, and not by law. - -"Spelman says, in denning an heirloom, that it may be 'Omne utensil -robustius;' which would exclude a necklace. - -"In the 'Termes de Ley,' it is denned as, 'Ascun parcel des utensils.' - -"We are told in 'Coke upon Littleton' that crown jewels are heirlooms, -which decision--as far as it goes--denies the right to other jewels. - -"Certain chattels may undoubtedly be held and claimed as being in the -nature of heirlooms--as swords, pennons of honour, garter and collar of -S.S. See case of the Earl of Northumberland; and that of the Pusey horn-- -Pusey v. Pusey. The journals of the House of Lords, delivered officially -to peers, may be so claimed. See Upton v. Lord Ferrers. - -"A devisor may clearly devise or limit the possession of chattels, making -them inalienable by devisees in succession. But in such cases they will -become the absolute possession of the first person seized in tail, even -though an infant, and in case of death without will would go to the Exors. -Such arrangement, therefore, can only hold good for lives in existence and -for 21 years afterwards. Chattels so secured would not be heirlooms. See -Carr v. Lord Errol, 14 Vesey, and Rowland v. Morgan. - -"Lord Eldon remarks that such chattels held in families are 'rather -favourites of the court.' This was in the Ormonde case. Executors, -therefore, even when setting aside any claim as for heirlooms, ought not -to apply such property in payment of debts unless obliged. - -"The law allows of claims for paraphernalia for widows, and, having -adjusted such claims, seems to show that the claim may be limited. - -"If a man deliver cloth to his wife, and die, she shall have it, though -she had not fashioned it into the garment intended. - -"Pearls and jewels, even though only worn on state occasions, may go to -the widow as paraphernalia, but with a limit. In the case of Lady Douglas, -she being the daughter of an Irish Earl and widow of the King's sergeant -(temp. Car. I.), it was held that £370 was not too much, and she was -allowed a diamond and a pearl chain to that value. - -"In 1674 Lord Keeper Finch declared that he would never allow -paraphernalia, except to the widow of a nobleman. - -"But in 1721 Lord Macclesfield gave Mistress Tipping paraphernalia to the -value or £200--whether so persuaded by law and precedent, or otherwise, -may be uncertain. - -"Lord Talbot allowed a gold watch as paraphernalia. - -"Lord Hardwicke went much further, and decided that Mrs. Northey was -entitled to wear jewels to the value of £3,000, saying that value made no -difference; but seems to have limited the nature of her possession in the -jewels by declaring her to be entitled to wear them only when full- -dressed. - -"It is, I think, clear that the Eustace estate cannot claim the jewels as -an heirloom. They are last mentioned, and, so far as I know, only -mentioned as an heirloom in the will of the great-grandfather of the -present baronet, if these be the diamonds then named by him. As such he -could not have devised them to the present claimant, as he died in 1820, -and the present claimant is not yet two years old. - -"Whether the widow could claim them as paraphernalia is more doubtful. I -do not know that Lord Hardwicke's ruling would decide the case; but if so, -she would, I think, be debarred from selling, as he limits the use of -jewels of lesser value than these to the wearing of them when full- -dressed. The use being limited, possession with power of alienation cannot -be intended. - -"The lady's claim to them as a gift from her husband amounts to nothing. -If they are not hers by will, and it seems that they are not so, she can -only hold them as paraphernalia belonging to her station. - -"I presume it to be capable of proof that the diamonds were not in -Scotland when Sir Florian made his will or when he died. The former fact -might be used as tending to show his intention when the will was made. I -understand that he did leave to his widow by will all the chattels in -Portray Castle. J. D. - -"15 August, 18--." - -When Mr. Camperdown had twice read this opinion, he sat in his chair an -unhappy old man. It was undoubtedly the case that he had been a lawyer for -upward of forty years, and had always believed that any gentleman could -make any article of value an heirloom in his family. The title-deeds of -vast estates had been confided to his keeping, and he had had much to do -with property of every kind; and now he was told that in reference to -property of a certain description--property which by its nature could -belong only to such as they who were his clients--he had been long without -any knowledge whatsoever. He had called this necklace an heirloom to John -Eustace above a score of times; and now he was told by Mr. Dove not only -that the necklace was not an heirloom, but that it couldn't have been an -heirloom. He was a man who trusted much in a barrister, as was natural -with an attorney; but he was now almost inclined to doubt Mr. Dove. And he -was hardly more at ease in regard to the other clauses of the opinion. Not -only could not the estate claim the necklace as an heirloom, but that -greedy siren, that heartless snake, that harpy of a widow--for it was thus -that Mr. Camperdown in his solitude spoke to himself of poor Lizzie, -perhaps throwing in a harder word or two--that female swindler could claim -it as--paraphernalia! - -There was a crumb of comfort for him in the thought that he could force -her to claim that privilege from a decision of the Court of Queen's Bench, -and that her greed would be exposed should she do so. And she could be -prevented from selling the diamonds. Mr. Dove seemed to make that quite -clear. But then there came that other question as to the inheritance of -the property under the husband's will. That Sir Florian had not intended -that she should inherit the necklace, Mr. Camperdown was quite certain. On -that point he suffered no doubt. But would he be able to prove that the -diamonds had never been in Scotland since Sir Florian's marriage? He had -traced their history from that date with all the diligence he could use, -and he thought that he knew it. But it might be doubtful whether he could -prove it. Lady Eustace had first stated--had so stated before she had -learned the importance of any other statement--that Sir Florian had given -her the diamonds in London as they passed through London from Scotland to -Italy, and that she had carried them thence to Naples, where Sir Florian -had died. If this were so, they could not have been at Portray Castle till -she took them there as a widow, and they would undoubtedly be regarded as -a portion of that property which Sir Florian habitually kept in London. -That this was so Mr. Camperdown. entertained no doubt. But now the widow -alleged that Sir Florian had given the necklace to her in Scotland, -whither they had gone immediately after their marriage, and that she -herself had brought them up to London. They had been married on the 5th of -September; and by the jewellers' books it was hard to tell whether the -trinket had been given up to Sir Florian on the 4th or 24th of September. -On the 24th Sir Florian and his young bride had undoubtedly been in -London. Mr. Camperdown anathematised the carelessness of everybody -connected with Messrs. Garnett's establishment. "Those sort of people have -no more idea of accuracy than--than--;" than he had had of heirlooms, his -conscience whispered to him, filling up the blank. - -Nevertheless he thought he could prove that the necklace was first put -into Lizzie's hands in London. The middle-aged and very discreet man at -Messrs. Garnett's, who had given up the jewel-case to Sir Florian, was -sure that he had known Sir Florian to be a married man when he did so. The -lady's maid who had been in Scotland with Lady Eustace, and who was now -living in Turin, having married a courier, had given evidence before an -Italian man of law, stating that she had never seen the necklace till she -came to London. There were, moreover, the probabilities of the case. Was -it likely that Sir Florian should take such a thing down in his pocket to -Scotland? And there was the statement as first made by Lady Eustace -herself to her cousin Frank, repeated by him to John Eustace, and not to -be denied by any one. It was all very well for her now to say that she had -forgotten; but would any one believe that on such a subject she could -forget? - -But still the whole thing was very uncomfortable. Mr. Dove's opinion, if -seen by Lady Eustace and her friends, would rather fortify them than -frighten them. Were she once to get hold of that word paraphernalia, it -would be as a tower of strength to her. Mr. Camperdown specially felt -this, that whereas he had hitherto believed that no respectable attorney -would take up such a case as that of Lady Eustace, he could not now but -confess to himself that any lawyer seeing Mr. Dove's opinion would be -justified in taking it up. And yet he was as certain as ever that the -woman was robbing the estate which it was his duty to guard, and that -should he cease to be active in the matter the necklace would be broken up -and the property sold and scattered before a year was out, and then the -woman would have got the better of him! "She shall find that we have not -done with her yet," he said to himself, as he wrote a line to John -Eustace. - -But John Eustace was out of town, as a matter of course; and on the next -day Mr. Camperdown himself went down and joined his wife and family at a -little cottage which he had at Dawlish. The necklace, however, interfered -much with his holiday. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -MR. GOWRAN IS VERY FUNNY - - -Frank Greystock certainly went over to Portray too often--so often that -the pony was proved to be quite necessary. Miss Macnulty held her tongue -and was gloomy, believing that Lady Eustace was still engaged to Lord -Fawn, and feeling that in that case there should not be so many visits to -the rocks. Mr. Gowran was very attentive, and could tell on any day, to -five minutes, how long the two cousins were sitting together on the -seashore. Arthur Herriot, who cared nothing for Lady Eustace, but who knew -that his friend had promised to marry Lucy Morris, was inclined to be -serious on the subject; but--as is always the case with men--was not -willing to speak about it. - -Once, and once only, the two men dined together at the castle, for the -doing of which it was necessary that a gig should be hired all the way -from Prestwick. Herriot had not been anxious to go over, alleging various -excuses--the absence of dress clothes, the calls of Stone and Toddy, his -bashfulness, and the absurdity of paying fifteen shillings for a gig. But -he went at last, constrained by his friend, and a very dull evening he -passed. Lizzie was quite unlike her usual self, was silent, grave, and -solemnly courteous; Miss Macnulty had not a word to say for herself; and -even Frank was dull. Arthur Herriot had not tried to exert himself, and -the dinner had been a failure. - -"You don't think much of my cousin, I dare say," said Frank, as they were -driving back. - -"She is a very pretty woman." - -"And I should say that she does not think much of you." - -"Probably not." - -"Why on earth wouldn't you speak to her? I went on making speeches to Miss -Macnulty on purpose to give you a chance. Lizzie generally talks about as -well--as any young woman I know; but you had not a word to say to her, nor -she to you." - -"Because you devoted yourself to Miss Mac---- whatever her name is." - -"That's nonsense," said Frank; "Lizzie and I are more like brother and -sister than anything else. She has no one else belonging to her, and she -has to come to me for advice, and all that sort of thing. I wanted you to -like her." - -"I never like people and people never like me. There is an old saying that -you should know a man seven years before you poke his fire. I want to know -persons seven years before I can ask them how they do. To take me out to -dine in this way was of all things the most hopeless." - -"But you do dine out in London." - -"That's different. There's a certain routine of conversation going, and -one falls into it. At such affairs as that this evening one has to be -intimate or it is a bore. I don't mean to say anything against Lady -Eustace. Her beauty is undeniable, and I don't doubt her cleverness." - -"She is sometimes too clever," said Frank. - -"I hope she is not becoming too clever for you. You've got to remember -that you're due elsewhere; eh, old fellow?" This was the first word that -Herriot had said on the subject, and to that word Frank Greystock made no -answer. But it had its effect, as also did the gloomy looks of Miss -Macnulty, and the not unobserved presence of Mr. Andy Gowran on various -occasions. - -Between them they shot more grouse--so the keeper swore--than had ever -been shot on these mountains before. Herriot absolutely killed one or two -himself, to his own great delight, and Frank, who was fairly skilful, -would get four or five in a day. There were excursions to be made, and the -air of the hills was in itself a treat to both of them. Though Greystock -was so often away at the castle, Herriot did not find the time hang -heavily on his hands, and was sorry when his fortnight was over. "I think -I shall stay a couple of days longer," Frank said, when Herriot spoke of -their return. "The truth is, I must see Lizzie again. She is bothered by -business, and I have to see her about a letter that came this morning. You -needn't pull such a long face. There's nothing of the kind you're thinking -of." - -"I thought so much of what you once said to me about another girl that I -hope she at any rate may never be in trouble." - -"I hope she never may, on my account," said Frank. "And what troubles she -may have, as life will be troublesome, I trust that I may share and -lessen." - -On that evening Herriot went, and on the next morning Frank Greystock -again rode over to Portray Castle; but when he was alone after Herriot's -departure he wrote a letter to Lucy Morris. He had expressed a hope that -he might never be a cause of trouble to Lucy Morris, and he knew that his -silence would trouble her. There could be no human being less inclined to -be suspicious than Lucy Morris. Of that Frank was sure. But there had been -an express stipulation with Lady Fawn that she should be allowed to -receive letters from him, and she would naturally be vexed when he did not -write to her. So he wrote. - -"PORTRAY COTTAGE, September 3, 18--. - -"DEAREST LUCY: We have been here for a fortnight, shooting grouse, -wandering about the mountains, and going to sleep on the hillsides. You -will say that there never was a time so fit for the writing of letters, -but that will be because you have not learned yet that the idler people -are the more inclined they are to be idle. We hear of lord chancellors -writing letters to their mothers every day of their lives; but men who -have nothing on earth to do cannot bring themselves to face a sheet of -paper. I would promise that when I am lord chancellor I would write to you -every day were it not that when that time comes I shall hope to be always -with you. - -"And, in truth, I have had to pay constant visits to my cousin, who lives -in a big castle on the seaside, ten miles from here, over the mountains, -and who is in a peck of troubles; in spite of her prosperity one of the -unhappiest women, I should say, that you could meet anywhere. You know so -much of her affairs that without breach of trust I may say so much. I Wish -she had a father or a brother to manage her matters for her; but she has -none, and I cannot desert her. Your Lord Fawn is behaving badly to her; -and so, as far as I can see, are the people who manage the Eustace -property. Lizzie, as you know, is not the most tractable of women, and -altogether I have more to do in the matter than I like. Riding ten times -backwards and forwards so often over the same route on a little pony is -not good fun, but I am almost glad the distance is not less. Otherwise I -might have been always there. I know you don't quite like Lizzie, but she -is to be pitied. - -"I go up to London on Friday, but shall only be there for one or two days, -that is, for one night. I go almost entirely on her business, and must, I -fear, be here again, or at the castle, before I can settle myself either -for work or happiness. On Sunday night I go down to Bobsborough, where, -indeed, I ought to have been earlier. I fear I cannot go to Richmond on -the Saturday, and on the Sunday Lady Fawn would hardly make me welcome. I -shall be at Bobsborough for about three weeks, and there, if you have -commands to give, I will obey them. - -"I may, however, tell you the truth at once--though it is a truth you must -keep very much to yourself. In the position in which I now stand as to -Lord Fawn--being absolutely forced to quarrel with him on Lizzie's behalf ---Lady Fawn could hardly receive me with comfort to herself. She is the -best of women; and, as she is your dear friend, nothing is further from me -than any idea of quarrelling with her; but of course she takes her son's -part, and I hardly know how all allusion to the subject could be avoided. - -"This, however, dearest, need ruffle no feather between you and me, who -love each other better than we love either the Fawns or the Lizzies. Let -me find a line at my chambers to say that it is so and always shall be so. - -"God bless my own darling. - -"Ever and always your own, - -"F. G." - -On the following day he rode over to the castle. He had received a letter -from John Eustace, who had found himself forced to run up to London to -meet Mr. Camperdown. The lawyer had thought to postpone further -consideration of the whole matter till he and everybody else would be -naturally in London--till November that might be, or perhaps even till -after Christmas. But his mind was ill at ease; and he knew that so much -might be done with the diamonds in four months! They might even now be in -the hands of some Benjamin or of some Harter, and it might soon be beyond -the power either of lawyers or of policemen to trace them. He therefore -went up from Dawlish and persuaded John Eustace to come from Yorkshire. It -was a great nuisance, and Eustace freely anathematised the necklace. "If -only some one would steal it, so that we might hear no more of the thing," -he said. But, as Mr. Camperdown had frequently remarked, the value was too -great for trifling, and Eustace went up to London. Mr. Camperdown put into -his hands the Turtle Dove's opinion, explaining that it was by no means -expedient that it should be shown to the other party. Eustace thought that -the opinion should be common to them all. "We pay for it," said Mr. -Camperdown, "and they can get their opinion from any other barrister if -they please." But what was to be done? Eustace declared that as to the -present whereabouts of the necklace he did not in the least doubt that he -could get the truth from Frank Greystock. He therefore wrote to Greystock, -and with that letter in his pocket Frank rode over to the castle for the -last time. - -He, too, was heartily sick of the necklace; but unfortunately he was not -equally sick of her who held it in possession. And he was, too, better -alive to the importance of the value of the trinket than John Eustace, -though not so keenly as was Mr. Camperdown. Lady Eustace was out somewhere -among the cliffs, the servant said. He regretted this as he followed her, -but he was obliged to follow her. Half-way down to the seashore, much -below the knob on which she had attempted to sit with her Shelley, but yet -not below the need of assistance, he found her seated in a little ravine. -"I knew you would come," she said. Of course she had known that he would -come. She did not rise, or even give him her hand, but there was a spot -close beside her on which it was to be presumed that he would seat -himself. She had a volume of Byron in her hand--the "Corsair," "Lara," and -the "Giaour"--a kind of poetry which was in truth more intelligible to her -than "Queen Mab." "You go to-morrow?" - -"Yes; I go to-morrow." - -"And Lubin has gone?" Arthur Herriot was Lubin. - -"Lubin has gone. Though why Lubin I cannot guess. The normal Lubin to me -is a stupid fellow always in love. Herriot is not stupid and is never in -love." - -"Nevertheless, he is Lubin if I choose to call him so. Why did he twiddle -his thumbs instead of talking? Have you heard anything of Lord Fawn?" - -"I have had a letter from your brother-in-law." - -"And what is John the Just pleased to say?" - -"John the Just, which is a better name for the man than the other, has -been called up to London, much against his will, by Mr. Camperdown." - -"Who is Samuel the Unjust." Mr. Camperdown's name was Samuel. - -"And now wants to know where this terrible necklace is at this present -moment." He paused a moment, but Lizzie did not answer him. "I suppose you -have no objection to telling me where it is." - -"None in the least, or to giving it you to keep for me, only that I would -not so far trouble you. But I have an objection to telling them. They are -my enemies. Let them find out." - -"You are wrong, Lizzie. You do not want, or at any rate should not want, -to have any secret in the matter." - -"They are here, in the castle; in the very place in which Sir Florian kept -them when he gave them to me. Where should my own jewels be but in my own -house? What does that Mr. Dove say who was to be asked about them? No -doubt they can pay a barrister to say anything." - -"Lizzie, you think too hardly of people." - -"And do not people think too hardly of me? Does not all this amount to an -accusation against me that I am a thief? Am I not persecuted among them? -Did not this impudent attorney stop me in the public street and accuse me -of theft before my very servants? Have they not so far succeeded in -misrepresenting me that the very man who is engaged to be my husband -betrays me? And now you are turning against me? Can you wonder that I am -hard?" - -"I am not turning against you." - -"Yes; you are. You take their part and not mine in everything. I tell you -what, Frank, I would go out in that boat that you see yonder and drop the -bauble into the sea did I not know that they'd drag it up again with their -devilish ingenuity. If the stones would burn I would burn them. But the -worst of it all is that you are becoming my enemy." Then she burst into -violent and almost hysteric tears. - -"It will be better that you should give them into the keeping of some one -whom you can both trust, till the law has decided to whom they belong." - -"I will never give them up. What does Mr. Dove say?" - -"I have not seen what Mr. Dove says. It is clear that the necklace is not -an heirloom." - -"Then how dare Mr. Camperdown say so often that it was?" - -"He said what he thought," pleaded Frank. - -"And he is a lawyer!" - -"I am a lawyer, and I did not know what is or what is not an heirloom. But -Mr. Dove is clearly of opinion that such a property could not have been -given away simply by a word of mouth." John Eustace in his letter had made -no allusion to that complicated question of paraphernalia. - -"But it was," said Lizzie. "Who can know but myself, when no one else was -present?" - -"The jewels are here now?" - -"Not in my pocket. I do not carry them about with me. They are in the -castle." - -"And will they go back with you to London?" - -"Was ever lady so interrogated? I do not know yet that I shall go back to -London. Why am I asked such questions? As to you, Frank, I would tell you -everything, my whole heart, if only you cared to know it. But why is John -Eustace to make inquiry as to personal ornaments which are my own -property? If I go to London I will take them there, and wear them at every -house I enter. I will do so in defiance of Mr. Camperdown and Lord Fawn. I -think, Frank, that no woman was ever so ill-treated as I am." - -He himself thought that she was ill-treated. She had so pleaded her case, -and had been so lovely in her tears and her indignation, that he began to -feel something like true sympathy for her cause. What right had he, or had -Mr. Camperdown, or any one, to say that the jewels did not belong to her? -And if her claim to them was just, why should she be persuaded to give up -the possession of them? He knew well that were she to surrender them with -the idea that they should be restored to her if her claim were found to be -just, she would not get them back very soon. If once the jewels were safe, -locked up in Mr. Garnett's strong box, Mr. Camperdown would not care how -long it might be before a jury or a judge should have decided on the case. -The burden of proof would then be thrown upon Lady Eustace. In order that -she might recover her own property she would have to thrust herself -forward as a witness, and appear before the world a claimant, greedy for -rich ornaments. Why should he advise her to give them up? "I am only -thinking," said he, "what may be the best for your own peace." - -"Peace!" she exclaimed. "How am I to have peace? Remember the condition in -which I find myself! Remember the manner in which that man is treating me, -when all the world has been told of my engagement to him! When I think of -it my heart is so bitter that I am inclined to throw, not the diamonds, -but myself, from off the rocks. All that remains to me is the triumph of -getting the better of my enemies. Mr. Camperdown shall never have the -diamonds. Even if they could prove that they did not belong to me they -should find them--gone." - -"I don't think they can prove it." - -"I'll flaunt them in the eyes of all of them till they do; and then--they -shall be gone. And I'll have such revenge on Lord Fawn before I have done -with him that he shall know that it may be worse to have to fight a woman -than a man. Oh, Frank, I do not think that I am hard by nature, but these -things make a woman hard." As she spoke she took his hand in hers, and -looked up into his eyes through her tears. "I know that you do not care -for me and you know how much I care for you." - -"Not care for you, Lizzie?" - -"No; that little thing at Richmond is everything to you. She is tame and -quiet, a cat that will sleep on the rug before the fire, and you think -that she will never scratch. Do not suppose that I mean to abuse her. She -was my dear friend before you had ever seen her. And men, I know, have -tastes which women do not understand. You want what you call--repose." - -"We seldom know what we want, I fancy. We take what the gods send us." -Frank's words were perhaps more true than wise. At the present moment the -gods had clearly sent Lizzie Eustace to him, and unless he could call up -some increased strength of his own, quite independent of the gods, or of -what we may perhaps call chance, he would have to put up with the article -sent. - -Lizzie had declared that she would not touch Lord Fawn with a pair of -tongs, and in saying so had resolved that she could not and would not now -marry his lordship, even were his lordship in her power. It had been -decided by her as quickly as thoughts flash, but it was decided. She would -torture the unfortunate lord, but not torture him by becoming his wife. -And, so much being fixed as the stars in heaven, might it be possible that -she should even yet induce her cousin to take the place that had been -intended for Lord Fawn? After all that had passed between them she need -hardly hesitate to tell him of her love. And with the same flashing -thoughts she declared to herself that she did love him, and that therefore -this arrangement would be so much better than that other one which she had -proposed to herself. The reader, perhaps, by this time, has not a high -opinion of Lady Eustace, and may believe that among other drawbacks on her -character there is especially this, that she was heartless. But that was -by no means her own opinion of herself. She would have described herself-- -and would have meant to do so with truth--as being all heart. She probably -thought that an over--amount of heart was the malady under which she -specially suffered. Her heart was overflowing now toward the man who was -sitting by her side. And then it would be so pleasant to punish that -little chit who had spurned her gift and had dared to call her mean! This -man, too, was needy, and she was wealthy. Surely were she to offer herself -to him the generosity of the thing would make it noble. She was still -dissolved in tears and was still hysteric. "Oh, Frank!" she said, and -threw herself upon his breast. - -Frank Greystock felt his position to be one of intense difficulty, but -whether this difficulty was increased or diminished by the appearance of -Mr. Andy Gowran's head over a rock at the entrance of the little cave in -which they were sitting it might be difficult to determine. But there was -the head. And it was not a head that just popped itself up and then -retreated, as a head would do that was discovered doing that which made it -ashamed of itself. The head, with its eyes wide open, held its own, and -seemed to say, "Ay, I've caught you, have I?" And the head did speak, -though not exactly in those words. "Coosins!" said the head; and then the -head was wagged. In the meantime Lizzie Eustace, whose back was turned to -the head, raised her own, and looked up into Greystock's eyes for love. -She perceived at once that something was amiss, and, starting to her feet, -turned quickly round. - -"How dare you intrude here?" she said to the head. - -"Coosins!" replied the head, wagging itself. - -It was clearly necessary that Greystock should take some steps, if only -with the object of proving to the impudent factotum that he was not -altogether overcome by the awkwardness of his position. That he was a good -deal annoyed, and that he felt not altogether quite equal to the occasion, -must be acknowledged. "What is it that the man wants?" he said, glaring at -the head. - -"Coosins!" said the head, wagging itself again. - -"If you don't take yourself off, I shall have to thrash you," said Frank. - -"Coosins!" said Andy Gowran, stepping from behind the rock and showing his -full figure. Andy was a man on the wrong side of fifty, and therefore, on -the score of age, hardly fit for thrashing. And he was compact, short, -broad, and as hard as flint; a man bad to thrash, look at it from what -side you would. "Coosins!" he said yet again. "Ye're mair couthie than -coosinly, I'm thinking." - -"Andy Gowran, I dismiss you from my service for your impertinence," said -Lady Eustace. - -"It's ae one to Andy Gowran for that, my leddie. There's timber and a -world o' things aboot the place as wants proteection on behalf o' the -heir. If your leddieship is minded to be quit o' my services, I'll find a -maister in Mr. Camperdoon, as'll nae allow me to be thrown out o' employ. -Coosins!" - -"Walk off from this," said Frank Greystock, coming forward and putting his -hand upon the man's breast. Mr. Gowran repeated the objectionable word yet -once again, and then retired. - -Frank Greystock immediately felt how very bad for him was his position. -For the lady, if only she could succeed in her object, the annoyance of -the interruption would not matter much after its first absurdity had been -endured. When she had become the wife of Frank Greystock there would be -nothing remarkable in the fact that she had been found sitting with him in -a cavern by the seashore. But for Frank the difficulty of extricating -himself from his dilemma was great, not in regard to Mr. Gowran, but in -reference to his cousin Lizzie. He might, it was true, tell her that he -was engaged to Lucy Morris; but then why had he not told her so before? He -had not told her so; nor did he tell her on this occasion. When he -attempted to lead her away up the cliff she insisted on being left where -she was. "I can find my way alone," she said, endeavouring to smile -through her tears. "The man has annoyed me by his impudence, that is all. -Go, if you are going." - -Of course he was going; but he could not go without a word of tenderness. -"Dear, dear Lizzie," he said, embracing her. - -"Frank, you'll be true to me?" - -"I will be true to you." - -"Then go now," she said. And he went his way up the cliff, and got his -pony, and rode back to the cottage, very uneasy in his mind. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -LUCY MORRIS MISBEHAVES - - -Lucy Morris got her letter and was contented. She wanted some -demonstration of love from her lover, but very little sufficed for her -comfort. With her it was almost impossible that a man should be loved and -suspected at the same time. She could not have loved the man, or at any -rate confessed her love, without thinking well of him; and she could not -think good and evil at the same time. She had longed for some word from -him since she last saw him; and now she had got a word. She had known that -he was close to his fair cousin--the cousin whom she despised, and whom, -with womanly instinct, she had almost regarded as a rival. But to her the -man had spoken out; and though he was far away from her, living close to -the fair cousin, she would not allow a thought of trouble on that score to -annoy her. He was her own, and let Lizzie Eustace do her worst, he would -remain her own. But she had longed to be told that he was thinking of her, -and at last the letter had come. She answered it that same night with the -sweetest, prettiest little letter, very short, full of love and full of -confidence. Lady Fawn, she said, was the dearest of women; but what was -Lady Fawn to her, or all the Fawns, compared with her lover? If he could -come to Richmond without disturbance to himself, let him come; but if he -felt that, in the present unhappy condition of affairs between him and -Lord Fawn, it was better that he should stay away, she had not a word to -say in the way of urging him. To see him would be a great delight. But had -she not the greater delight of knowing that he loved her? That was quite -enough to make her happy. Then there was a little prayer that God might -bless him, and an assurance that she was in all things his own, own Lucy. -When she was writing her letter she was in all respects a happy girl. - -But on the very next day there came a cloud upon her happiness, not in the -least, however, affecting her full confidence in her lover. It was a -Saturday, and Lord Fawn came down to Richmond. Lord Fawn had seen Mr. -Greystock in London on that day, and the interview had been by no means -pleasant to him. The Under-Secretary of State for India was as dark as a -November day when he reached his mother's house, and there fell upon every -one the unintermittent cold drizzling shower of his displeasure from the -moment in which he entered the house. There was never much reticence among -the ladies at Richmond in Lucy's presence, and since the completion of -Lizzie's unfortunate visit to Fawn Court they had not hesitated to express -open opinions adverse to the prospects of the proposed bride. Lucy herself -could say but little in defence of her old friend, who had lost all claim -upon that friendship since the offer of the bribe had been made, so that -it was understood among them all that Lizzie was to be regarded as a black -sheep; but hitherto Lord Fawn himself had concealed his feelings before -Lucy. Now unfortunately he spoke out, and in speaking was especially -bitter against Frank. "Mr. Greystock has been most insolent," he said as -they were all sitting together in the library after dinner. Lady Fawn made -a sign to him and shook her head. Lucy felt the hot blood fly into both -her cheeks, but at the moment she did not speak. Lydia Fawn put out her -hand beneath the table and took hold of Lucy's. - -"We must all remember that he is her cousin," said Augusta, - -"His relationship to Lady Eustace cannot justify ungentlemanlike -impertinence to me," said Lord Fawn. "He has dared to use words to me -which would make it necessary that I should call him out, only--" - -"Frederic, you shall do nothing of the kind," said Lady Fawn, jumping up -from her chair. - -"Oh, Frederic, pray, pray don't," said Augusta, springing on to her -brother's shoulder. - -"I am sure Frederic does not mean that," said Amelia. - -"Only that nobody does call anybody out now," added the pacific lord. "But -nothing on earth shall ever induce me to speak again to a man who is so -little like a gentleman." Lydia now held Lucy's hand still tighter, as -though to prevent her rising. "He has never forgiven me," continued Lord -Fawn, "because he was so ridiculously wrong about the Sawab." - -"I am sure that had nothing to do with it," said Lucy. - -"Miss Morris, I shall venture to hold my own opinion," said Lord Fawn. - -"And I shall hold mine," said Lucy bravely. "The Sawab of Mygawb had -nothing to do with what Mr. Greystock may have said or done about his -cousin. I am quite sure of it." - -"Lucy, you are forgetting yourself," said Lady Fawn. - -"Lucy, dear, you shouldn't contradict my brother," said Augusta. - -"Take my advice, Lucy, and let it pass by," said Amelia. - -"How can I hear such things said and not notice them?" demanded Lucy. "Why -does Lord Fawn say them when I am by?" - -Lord Fawn had now condescended to be full of wrath against his mother's -governess. "I suppose I may express my own opinion, Miss Morris, in my -mother's house." - -"And I shall express mine," said Lucy. "Mr. Greystock is a gentleman. If -you say that he is not a gentleman, it is not true." Upon hearing these -terrible words spoken, Lord Fawn rose from his seat and slowly left the -room. Augusta followed him with both her arms stretched out. Lady Fawn -covered her face with her hands, and even Amelia was dismayed. - -"Oh, Lucy! why could you not hold your tongue?" said Lydia. - -"I won't hold my tongue," said Lucy, bursting out into tears. "He is a -gentleman." - -Then there was great commotion at Fawn Court. After a few moments Lady -Fawn followed her son without having said a word to Lucy, and Amelia went -with her. Poor Lucy was left with the younger girls, and was no doubt very -unhappy. But she was still indignant and would yield nothing. When -Georgina, the fourth daughter, pointed out to her that, in accordance with -all rules of good breeding, she should have abstained from asserting that -her brother had spoken an untruth, she blazed up again. "It was untrue," -she said. - -"But, Lucy, people never accuse each other of untruth. No lady should use -such a word to a gentleman." - -"He should not have said so. He knows that Mr. Greystock is more to me -than all the world." - -"If I had a lover," said Nina, "and anybody were to say a word against -him, I know I'd fly at them. I don't know why Frederic is to have it all -his own way." - -"Nina, you're a fool," said Diana. - -"I do think it was very hard for Lucy to bear," said Lydia. "And I won't -bear it," exclaimed Lucy. "To think that Mr. Greystock should be so mean -as to bear malice about a thing like that wild Indian because he takes his -own cousin's part! Of course I'd better go away. You all think that Mr. -Greystock is an enemy now; but he never can be an enemy to me." - -"We think that Lady Eustace is an enemy," said Cecilia, "and a very nasty -enemy, too." - -"I did not say a word about Lady Eustace," said Lucy. "But Mr. Greystock -is a gentleman." - -About an hour after this Lady Fawn sent for Lucy, and the two were -closeted together for a long time. Lord Fawn was very angry, and had -hitherto altogether declined to overlook the insult offered. "I am bound -to tell you," declared Lady Fawn, with much emphasis, "that nothing can -justify you in having accused Lord Fawn of telling an untruth. Of course, -I was sorry that Mr. Greystock's name should have been mentioned in your -presence; but as it was mentioned, you should have borne what was said -with patience." - -"I couldn't be patient, Lady Fawn." - -"That is what wicked people say when they commit murder, and then they are -hung for it." - -"I'll go away, Lady Fawn--" - -"That is ungrateful, my dear. You know that I don't wish you to go away. -But if you behave badly, of course I must tell you of it." - -"I'd sooner go away. Everybody here thinks ill of Mr. Greystock. But I -don't think ill of Mr. Greystock, and I never shall. Why did Lord Fawn say -such very hard things about him?" - -It was suggested to her that she should be down-stairs early the next -morning, and apologise to Lord Fawn for her rudeness; but she would not, -on that night, undertake to do any such thing. Let Lady Fawn say what she -might, Lucy thought that the injury had been done to her, and not to his -lordship. And so they parted hardly friends. Lady Fawn gave her no kiss as -she went, and Lucy, with obstinate pride, altogether refused to own her -fault. She would only say that she had better go, and when Lady Fawn over -and over again pointed out to her that the last thing that such a one as -Lord Fawn could bear was to be accused of an untruth, she would continue -to say that in that case he should be careful to say nothing that was -untrue. All this was very dreadful, and created great confusion and -unhappiness at Fawn Court. Lydia came into her room that night, and the -two girls talked the matter over for hours. In the morning Lucy was up -early, and found Lord Fawn walking in the grounds. She had been told that -he would probably be found walking in the grounds, if she were willing to -tender to him any apology. - -Her mind had been very full of the subject--not only in reference to her -lover, but as it regarded her own conduct. One of the elder Fawn girls had -assured her that under no circumstances could a lady be justified in -telling a gentleman that he had spoken an untruth, and she was not quite -sure but that the law so laid down was right. And then she could not but -remember that the gentleman in question was Lord Fawn, and that she was -Lady Fawn's governess. But Mr. Greystock was her affianced lover, and her -first duty was to him. And then, granting that she herself had been wrong -in accusing Lord Fawn of untruth, she could not refrain from asking -herself whether he had not been much more wrong in saying in her hearing -that Mr. Greystock was not a gentleman? And his offence had preceded her -offence, and had caused it! She hardly knew whether she did or did not owe -an apology to Lord Fawn, but she was quite sure that Lord Fawn owed an -apology to her. - -She walked straight up to Lord Fawn, and met him beneath the trees. He was -still black and solemn, and was evidently brooding over his grievance; but -he bowed to her, and stood still as she approached him. "My lord," said -she, "I am very sorry for what happened last night." - -"And so was I, very sorry, Miss Morris." - -"I think you know that I am engaged to marry Mr. Greystock?" - -"I cannot allow that that has anything to do with it." - -"When you think that he must be dearer to me than all the world, you will -acknowledge that I couldn't hear hard things said of him without -speaking." His face became blacker than ever, but he made no reply. He -wanted an abject begging of unconditional pardon from the little girl who -loved his enemy. If that were done, he would vouchsafe his forgiveness; -but he was too small by nature to grant it on other terms. "Of course," -continued Lucy, "I am bound to treat you with special respect in Lady -Fawn's house." She looked almost beseechingly into his face as she paused -for a moment. - -"But you treated me with especial disrespect," said Lord Fawn. - -"And how did you treat me, Lord Fawn?" - -"Miss Morris, I must be allowed, in discussing matters with my mother, to -express my own opinions in such language as I may think fit to use. Mr. -Greystock's conduct to me was--was--was altogether most ungentlemanlike." - -"Mr. Greystock is a gentleman." - -"His conduct was most offensive, and most ungentlemanlike. Mr. Greystock -disgraced himself." - -"It isn't true," said Lucy. Lord Fawn gave one start, and then walked off -to the house as quick as his legs could carry him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -MR. DOVE IN HIS CHAMBERS - - -The scene between Lord Fawn and Greystock had taken place in Mr. -Camperdown's chambers, and John Eustace had also been present. The lawyer -had suffered considerable annoyance, before the arrival of the two first- -named gentlemen, from reiterated assertions made by Eustace that he would -take no further trouble whatsoever about the jewels. Mr. Camperdown had in -vain pointed out to him that a plain duty lay upon him as executor and -guardian to protect the property on behalf of his nephew; but Eustace had -asserted that, though he himself was comparatively a poor man, he would -sooner replace the necklace out of his own property than be subject to the -nuisance of such a continued quarrel. "My dear John; ten thousand pounds!" -Mr. Camperdown had said. "It is a fortune for a younger son." - -"The boy is only two years old, and will have time enough to make fortunes -for his own younger sons, if he does not squander everything. If he does, -ten thousand pounds will make no difference." - -"But the justice of the thing, John!" - -"Justice may be purchased too dearly." - -"Such a harpy as she is, too!" pleaded the lawyer. Then Lord Fawn had come -in, and Greystock had followed immediately afterwards. - -"I may as well say at once," said Greystock, "that Lady Eustace is -determined to maintain her right to the property; and that she will not -give up the diamonds till some adequate court of law shall have decided -that she is mistaken in her views. Stop one moment, Mr. Camperdown. I feel -myself bound to go further than that, and express my own opinion that she -is right." - -"I can hardly understand such an opinion as coming from you," said Mr. -Camperdown. - -"You have changed your mind, at any rate," said John Eustace. - -"Not so, Eustace. Mr. Camperdown, you'll be good enough to understand that -my opinion expressed here is that of a friend, and not that of a lawyer. -And you must understand, Eustace," continued Greystock, "that I am -speaking now of my cousin's right to the property. Though the value be -great, I have advised her to give up the custody of it for a while, till -the matter shall be clearly decided. That has still been my advice to her, -and I have in no respect changed my mind. But she feels that she is being -cruelly used, and with a woman's spirit will not, in such circumstances, -yield anything. Mr. Camperdown actually stopped her carriage in the -street." - -"She would not answer a line that anybody wrote to her," said the lawyer. - -"And I may say plainly--for all here know the circumstances--that Lady -Eustace feels the strongest possible indignation at the manner in which -she is being treated by Lord Fawn." - -"I have only asked her to give up the diamonds till the question should be -settled," said Lord Fawn. - -"And you backed your request, my lord, by a threat! My cousin is naturally -most indignant; and, my lord, you must allow me to tell you that I fully -share the feeling." - -"There is no use in making a quarrel about it," said Eustace. - -"The quarrel is already made," replied Greystock. "I am here to tell Lord -Fawn in your presence, and in the presence of Mr. Camperdown, that he is -behaving to a lady with ill-usage, which he would not dare to exercise did -he not know that her position saves him from legal punishment, as do the -present usages of society from other consequences." - -"I have behaved to her with every possible consideration," said Lord Fawn. - -"That is a simple assertion," said the other. "I have made one assertion, -and you have made another. The world will have to judge between us. What -right have you to take upon yourself to decide whether this thing or that -belongs to Lady Eustace or to any one else?" - -"When the thing was talked about I was obliged to have an opinion," said -Lord Fawn, who was still thinking of words in which to reply to the insult -offered him by Greystock without injury to his dignity as an Under- -Secretary of State. - -"Your conduct, sir, has been altogether inexcusable." Then Frank turned to -the attorney. "I have been given to understand that you are desirous of -knowing where this diamond necklace is at present. It is at Lady Eustace's -house in Scotland; at Portray Castle." Then he shook hands with John -Eustace, bowed to Mr. Camperdown, and succeeded in leaving the room before -Lord Fawn had so far collected his senses as to be able to frame his anger -into definite words. - -"I will never willingly speak to that man again," said Lord Fawn. But as -it was not probable that Greystock would greatly desire any further -conversation with Lord Fawn, this threat did not carry with it any -powerful feeling of severity. - -Mr. Camperdown groaned over the matter with thorough vexation of spirit. -It seemed to him as though the harpy, as he called her, would really make -good her case against him, at any rate would make it seem to be good for -so long a time that all the triumph of success would be hers. He knew that -she was already in debt, and gave her credit for a propensity to fast -living, which almost did her an injustice. Of course the jewels would be -sold for half their value, and the harpy would triumph. Of what use to him -or to the estate would be a decision of the courts in his favour when the -diamonds should have been broken up and scattered to the winds of heaven? -Ten thousand pounds! It was, to Mr. Camperdown's mind, a thing quite -terrible that, in a country which boasts of its laws and of the execution -of its laws, such an impostor as was this widow should be able to lay her -dirty, grasping fingers on so great an amount of property, and that there -should be no means of punishing her. That Lizzie Eustace had stolen the -diamonds, as a pickpocket steals a watch, was a fact as to which Mr. -Camperdown had in his mind no shadow of a doubt. And, as the reader knows, -he was right. She had stolen them. Mr. Camperdown knew that she had stolen -them, and was a wretched man. From the first moment of the late Sir -Florian's infatuation about this woman, she had worked woe for Mr. -Camperdown. Mr. Camperdown had striven hard, to the great and almost -permanent offence of Sir Florian, to save Portray from its present -condition of degradation; but he had striven in vain. Portray belonged to -the harpy for her life; and moreover, he himself had been forced to be -instrumental in paying over to the harpy a large sum of Eustace money -almost immediately on her becoming a widow. Then had come the affair of -the diamonds--an affair of ten thousand pounds!--as Mr. Camperdown would -exclaim to himself, throwing his eyes up to the ceiling. And now it seemed -that she was to get the better of him even in that, although there could -not be a shadow of doubt as to her falsehood and fraudulent dishonesty! -His luck in the matter was so bad! John Eustace had no backbone, no -spirit, no proper feeling as to his own family. Lord Fawn was as weak as -water, and almost disgraced the cause by the accident of his adherence to -it. Greystock, who would have been a tower of strength, had turned against -him, and was now prepared to maintain that the harpy was right. Mr. -Camperdown knew that the harpy was wrong, that she was a harpy, and he -would not abandon the cause; but the difficulties in his way were great -and the annoyance to which he was subjected was excessive. His wife and -daughters were still at Dawlish, and he was up in town in September, -simply because the harpy had the present possession of these diamonds. - -Mr. Camperdown was a man turned sixty, handsome, grey-haired, healthy, -somewhat florid, and carrying in his face and person external signs of -prosperity and that kind of self-assertion which prosperity always -produces. But they who knew him best were aware that he did not bear -trouble well. In any trouble, such as was this about the necklace, there -would come over his face a look of weakness which betrayed the want of -real inner strength. How many faces one sees which, in ordinary -circumstances, are comfortable, self-asserting, sufficient, and even bold; -the lines of which, under difficulties, collapse and become mean, -spiritless, and insignificant. There are faces which, in their usual form, -seem to bluster with prosperity, but which the loss of a dozen points at -whist will reduce to that currish aspect which reminds one of a dog-whip. -Mr. Camperdown's countenance, when Lord Fawn and Mr. Eustace left him, had -fallen away into this meanness of appearance. He no longer carried himself -as a man owning a dog-whip, but rather as the hound that feared it. - -A better attorney for the purposes to which his life was devoted did not -exist in London than Mr. Camperdown. To say that he was honest is nothing. -To describe him simply as zealous would be to fall very short of his -merits. The interests of his clients were his own interests, and the legal -rights of the properties of which he had the legal charge were as dear to -him as his own blood. But it could not be said of him that he was a -learned lawyer. Perhaps in that branch of a solicitor's profession in -which he had been called upon to work, experience goes further than -learning. It may be doubted, indeed, whether it is not so in every branch -of every profession. But it might, perhaps, have been better for Mr. -Camperdown had he devoted more hours of his youth to reading books on -conveyancing. He was now too old for such studies, and could trust only to -the reading of other people. The reading, however, of other people was -always at his command, and his clients were rich men who did not mind -paying for an opinion. To have an opinion from Mr. Dove, or some other -learned gentleman, was the every-day practice of his life; and when he -obtained, as he often did, little coigns of legal vantage and subtle -definitions as to property which were comfortable to him, he would rejoice -to think that he could always have a Dove at his hand to tell him exactly -how far he was justified in going in defence of his clients' interests. -But now there had come to him no comfort from his corner of legal -knowledge. Mr. Dove had taken extraordinary pains in the matter, and had -simply succeeded in throwing over his employer. "A necklace can't be an -heirloom!" said Mr. Camperdown to himself, telling off on his fingers half -a dozen instances in which he had either known or had heard that the head -of a family had so arranged the future possession of the family jewels. -Then he again read Mr. Dove's opinion, and actually took a law-book off -his shelves with the view of testing the correctness of the barrister in -reference to some special assertion. A pot or a pan might be an heirloom, -but not a necklace! Mr. Camperdown could hardly bring himself to believe -that this was law. And then as to paraphernalia! Up to this moment, though -he had been called upon to arrange great dealings in reference to widows, -he had never as yet heard of a claim made by a widow for paraphernalia. -But then the widows with whom he had been called upon to deal had been -ladies quite content to accept the good things settled upon them by the -liberal prudence of their friends and husbands, not greedy, blood-sucking -harpies such as this Lady Eustace. It was quite terrible to Mr. Camperdown -that one of his clients should have fallen into such a pit. _Mors omnibus -est communis._ But to have left such a widow behind one! - -"John," he said, opening his door. John was his son and partner, and John -came to him, having been summoned by a clerk from another room. "Just shut -the door. I've had such a scene here; Lord Fawn and Mr. Greystock almost -coming to blows about that horrid woman." - -"The Upper House would have got the worst of it, as it usually does," said -the younger attorney. - -"And there is John Eustace cares no more what becomes of the property than -if he had nothing to do with it; absolutely talks of replacing the -diamonds out of his own pocket; a man whose personal interest in the -estate is by no means equal to her own." - -"He wouldn't do it, you know," said Camperdown Junior, who did not know -the family. - -"It's just what he would do," said the father, who did. "There's nothing -they wouldn't give away when once the idea takes them. Think of that woman -having the whole Portray estate, perhaps for the next sixty years--nearly -the fee-simple of the property--just because she made eyes to Sir -Florian." - -"That's done and gone, father." - -"And here's Dove tells us that a necklace can't be an heirloom unless it -belongs to the Crown." - -"Whatever he says, you'd better take his word for it." - -"I'm not so sure of that! It can't be. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go -over and see him. We can file a bill in Chancery, I don't doubt, and prove -that the property belongs to the family and must go by the will. But -she'll sell them before we can get the custody of them." - -"Perhaps she has done that already." - -"Greystock says they are Portray, and I believe they are. She was wearing -them in London only in July, a day or two before I saw her as she was -leaving town. If anybody like a jeweller had been down at the castle, I -should have heard of it. She hasn't sold 'em yet, but she will." - -"She could do that just the same if they were an heirloom." - -"No, John. I think not. We could have acted much more quickly and have -frightened her." - -"If I were you, father, I'd drop the matter altogether and let John -Eustace replace them if he pleases. We all know that he would never be -called on to do anything of the kind. It isn't our sort of business." - -"Not ten thousand pounds!" said Camperdown Senior, to whom the magnitude -of the larceny almost ennobled the otherwise mean duty of catching the -thief. Then Mr. Camperdown rose, and slowly walked across the New Square, -Lincoln's Inn, under the low archway, by the entrance to the old court in -which Lord Eldon used to sit, to the Old Square, in which the Turtle Dove -had built his legal nest on a first floor, close to the old gateway. - -Mr. Dove was a gentleman who spent a very great portion of his life in -this somewhat gloomy abode of learning. It was not now term time, and most -of his brethren were absent from London, recruiting their strength among -the Alps, or drinking in vigour for fresh campaigns with the salt sea -breezes off Kent and Sussex, or perhaps shooting deer in Scotland, or -catching fish in Connemara. But Mr. Dove was a man of iron, who wanted no -such recreation. To be absent from his law-books and the black, littered, -ink-stained old table on which he was wont to write his opinions, was, to -him, to be wretched. The only exercise necessary to him was that of -putting on his wig and going into one of the courts that were close to his -chambers; but even that was almost distasteful to him. He preferred -sitting in his old arm-chair, turning over his old books in search of old -cases, and producing opinions which he would be prepared to back against -all the world of Lincoln's Inn. He and Mr. Camperdown had known each other -intimately for many years, and though the rank of the two men in their -profession differed much, they were able to discuss questions of law -without any appreciation of that difference between themselves. The one -man knew much, and the other little; the one was not only learned, but -possessed also of great gifts, while the other was simply an ordinary -clear-headed man of business; but they had sympathies in common which made -them friends; they were both honest and unwilling to sell their services -to dishonest customers; and they equally entertained a deep-rooted -contempt for that portion of mankind who thought that property could be -managed and protected without the intervention of lawyers. The outside -world to them was a world of pretty, laughing, ignorant children; and -lawyers were the parents, guardians, pastors, and masters, by whom the -children should be protected from the evils incident to their -childishness. - -"Yes, sir; he's here," said the Turtle Dove's clerk. "He is talking of -going away, but he won't go. He's told me I can have a week, but I don't -know that I like to leave him. Mrs. Dove and the children are down at -Ramsgate, and he's here all night. He hadn't been out for so long that -when he wanted to go as far as the Temple yesterday we couldn't find his -hat." Then the clerk opened the door, and ushered Mr. Camperdown into the -room. Mr. Dove was the younger man by five or six years, and his hair was -still black. Mr. Camperdown's was nearer white than gray; but, -nevertheless, Mr. Camperdown looked as though he were the younger man. Mr. -Dove was a long, thin man, with a stoop in his shoulders, with deep-set, -hollow eyes, and lantern cheeks, and sallow complexion, with long, thin -hands, who seemed to acknowledge by every movement of his body and every -tone of his voice that old age was creeping on him; whereas the attorney's -step was still elastic, and his speech brisk. Mr. Camperdown wore a blue -frock-coat, and a coloured cravat, and a light waist-coat. With Mr. Dove -every visible article of his raiment was black, except his shirt, and he -had that peculiar blackness which a man achieves when he wears a dress- -coat over a high black waistcoat in the morning. - -"You didn't make much, I fear, of what I sent you about heirlooms," said -Mr. Dove, divining the purport of Mr. Camperdown's visit. - -"A great deal more than I wanted, I can assure you, Mr. Dove." - -"There is a common error about heirlooms." - -"Very common, indeed, I should say. God bless my soul! when one knows how -often the word occurs in family deeds, it does startle one to be told that -there isn't any such thing." - -"I don't think I said quite so much as that. Indeed, I was careful to -point out that the law does acknowledge heirlooms." - -"But not diamonds," said the attorney. - -"I doubt whether I went quite so far as that." - -"Only the Crown diamonds." - -"I don't think I even debarred all other diamonds. A diamond in a star of -honour might form a part of an heirloom; but I do not think that a diamond -itself could be an heirloom." - -"If in a star of honour, why not in a necklace?" argued Mr. Camperdown -almost triumphantly. - -"Because a star of honour, unless tampered with by fraud, would naturally -be maintained in its original form. The setting of a necklace will -probably be altered from generation to generation. The one, like a picture -or a precious piece of furniture----" - -"Or a pot or a pan," said Mr. Camperdown, with sarcasm. - -"Pots and pans may be precious, too," replied Mr. Dove. "Such things can -be traced, and can be held as heirlooms without imposing too great -difficulties on their guardians. The Law is generally very wise and -prudent, Mr. Camperdown; much more so often than are they who attempt to -improve it." - -"I quite agree with you there, Mr. Dove." - -"Would the Law do a service, do you think, if it lent its authority to the -special preservation in special hands of trinkets only to be used for -vanity and ornament? Is that a kind of property over which an owner should -have a power of disposition more lasting, more autocratic, than is given -him even in regard to land? The land, at any rate, can be traced. It is a -thing fixed and known. A string of pearls is not only alterable, but -constantly altered, and cannot easily be traced." - -"Property of such enormous value should, at any rate, be protected," said -Mr. Camperdown indignantly. - -"All property is protected, Mr. Camperdown; although, as we know too well, -such protection can never be perfect. But the system of heirlooms, if -there can be said to be such a system, was not devised for what you and I -mean when we talk of protection of property." - -"I should have said that that was just what it was devised for." - -"I think not. It was devised with the more picturesque idea of maintaining -chivalric associations. Heirlooms have become so, not that the future -owners of them may be assured of so much wealth, whatever the value of the -thing so settled may be, but that the son or grandson or descendant may -enjoy the satisfaction which is derived from saying, My father or my -grandfather or my ancestor sat in that chair, or looked as he now looks in -that picture, or was graced by wearing on his breast that very ornament -which you now see lying beneath the glass. Crown jewels are heirlooms in -the same way, as representing not the possession of the sovereign, but the -time-honoured dignity of the Crown. The Law, which, in general, concerns -itself with our property or lives and our liberties, has in this matter -bowed gracefully to the spirit of chivalry and has lent its aid to -romance! but it certainly did not do so to enable the discordant heirs of -a rich man to settle a simple dirty question of money, which, with -ordinary prudence, the rich-man should himself have settled before he -died." - -The Turtle Dove had spoken with emphasis and had spoken well, and Mr. -Camperdown had not ventured to interrupt him while he was speaking. He was -sitting far back on his chair, but with his neck bent and with his head -forward, rubbing his long thin hands slowly over each other, and with his -deep bright eyes firmly fixed on his companion's face. Mr. Camperdown had -not unfrequently heard him speak in the same fashion before, and was -accustomed to his manner of unravelling the mysteries and searching into -the causes of Law with a spirit which almost lent a poetry to the subject. -When Mr. Dove would do so, Mr. Camperdown would not quite understand the -words spoken, but he would listen to them with an undoubting reverence. -And he did understand them in part, and was conscious of an infusion of a -certain amount of poetic spirit into his own bosom. He would think of -these speeches afterwards, and would entertain high but somewhat cloudy -ideas of the beauty and the majesty of Law. Mr. Dove's speeches did Mr. -Camperdown good, and helped to preserve him from that worst of all -diseases, a low idea of humanity. - -"You think, then, we had better not claim them as heirlooms?" he asked. - -"I think you had better not." - -"And you think that she could claim them--as paraphernalia?" - -"That question has hardly been put to me, though I allowed myself to -wander into it. But for my intimacy with you, I should hardly have -ventured to stray so far." - -"I need hardly say how much obliged we are. But we will submit one or two -other cases to you." - -"I am inclined to think the court would not allow them to her as -paraphernalia, seeing that their value is excessive as compared with her -income and degree; but if it did, it would do so in a fashion that would -guard them from alienation." - -"She would sell them--under the rose." - -"Then she would be guilty of stealing them, which she would hardly -attempt, even if not restrained by honesty, knowing, as she would know, -that the greatness of the value would almost assuredly lead to detection. -The same feeling would prevent buyers from purchasing." - -"She says, you know, that they were given to her, absolutely." - -"I should like to know the circumstances." - -"Yes; of course." - -"But I should be disposed to think that in equity no allegation by the -receiver of such a gift, unsubstantiated either by evidence or by deed, -would be allowed to stand. The gentleman left behind him a will, and -regular settlements. I should think that the possession of these diamonds ---not, I presume, touched on in the settlements---" - -"Oh dear no; not a word about them." - -"I should think, then, that, subject to any claim to paraphernalia, the -possession of the diamonds would be ruled by the will." Mr. Camperdown was -rushing into the further difficulty of chattels in Scotland and those in -England, when the Turtle Dove stopped him, declaring that he could not -venture to discuss matters as to which he knew none of the facts. - -"Of course not; of course not," said Mr. Camperdown. "We'll have cases -prepared. I'd apologise for coming at all, only that I get so much from a -few words." - -"I'm always delighted to see you, Mr. Camperdown," said the Turtle Dove, -bowing. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -I HAD BETTER GO AWAY - - -When Lord Fawn gave a sudden jump and stalked away towards the house on -that Sunday morning before breakfast, Lucy Morris was a very unhappy girl. -She had a second time accused Lord Fawn of speaking an untruth. She did -not quite understand the usages of the world in the matter; but she did -know that the one offence which a gentleman is supposed never to commit is -that of speaking an untruth. The offence may be one committed oftener than -any other by gentlemen--as also by all other people; but, nevertheless, it -is regarded by the usages of society as being the one thing which a -gentleman never does. Of all this Lucy understood something. The word -"lie" she knew to be utterly abominable. That Lizzie Eustace was a little -liar had been acknowledged between herself and the Fawn girls very often; -but to have told Lady Eustace that any word spoken by her was a lie would -have been a worse crime than the lie itself. To have brought such an -accusation, in that form, against Lord Fawn, would have been to degrade -herself forever. Was there any difference between a lie and an untruth? -That one must be, and that the other need not be, intentional, she did -feel; but she felt also that the less offensive word had come to mean a -lie--the world having been driven so to use it because the world did not -dare to talk about lies; and this word, bearing such a meaning in common -parlance, she had twice applied to Lord Fawn. And yet, as she was well -aware, Lord Fawn had told no lie. He had himself believed every word that -he had spoken against Frank Greystock. That he had been guilty of unmanly -cruelty in so speaking of her lover in her presence Lucy still thought, -but she should not therefore have accused him of falsehood. "It was untrue -all the same," she said to herself, as she stood still on the gravel walk, -watching the rapid disappearance of Lord Fawn, and endeavouring to think -what she had better now do with herself. Of course Lord Fawn, like a great -child, would at once go and tell his mother what that wicked governess had -said to him. - -In the hall she met her friend Lydia. "Oh, Lucy, what is the matter with -Frederic?" she asked. - -"Lord Fawn is very angry indeed." - -"With you?" - -"Yes; with me. He is so angry that I am sure he would not sit down to -breakfast with me. So I won't come down. Will you tell your mamma? If she -likes to send to me, of course I'll go to her at once." - -"What have you done, Lucy?" - -"I've told him again that what he said wasn't true." - -"But why?" - -"Because--oh, how can I say why? Why does any person do everything that -she ought not to do? It's the fall of Adam, I suppose." - -"You shouldn't make a joke of it, Lucy." - -"You can have no conception how unhappy I am about it. Of course Lady Fawn -will tell me to go away. I went out on purpose to beg his pardon for what -I said last night, and I just said the very same thing again." - -"But why did you say it?" - -"And I should say it again and again and again, if he were to go on -telling me that Mr. Greystock isn't a gentleman. I don't think he ought to -have done it. Of course I have been very wrong; I know that. But I think -he has been wrong too. But I must own it and he needn't. I'll go up now -and stay in my own room till your mamma sends for me." - -"And I'll get Jane to bring you some breakfast." - -"I don't care a bit about breakfast," said Lucy. - -Lord Fawn did tell his mother, and Lady Fawn was perplexed in the extreme. -She was divided in her judgment and feelings between the privilege due to -Lucy as a girl possessed of an authorised lover--a privilege which no -doubt existed, but which was not extensive--and the very much greater -privilege which attached to Lord Fawn as a man, as a peer, as an Under- -Secretary of State, but which attached to him especially as the head and -only man belonging to the Fawn family. Such a one, when, moved by filial -duty, he condescends to come once a week to his mother's house, is -entitled to say whatever he pleases, and should on no account be -contradicted by any one. Lucy no doubt had a lover, an authorised lover; -but perhaps that fact could not be taken as more than a balancing weight -against the inferiority of her position as a governess. Lady Fawn was of -course obliged to take her son's part and would scold Lucy. Lucy must be -scolded very seriously. But it would be a thing so desirable if Lucy could -be induced to accept her scolding and have done with it, and not to make -matters worse by talking of going away! "You don't mean that she came out -into the shrubbery, having made up her mind to be rude to you?" said Lady -Fawn to her son. - -"No; I do not think that. But her temper is so ungovernable, and she has, -if I may say so, been so spoiled among you here--I mean by the girls, of -course--that she does not know how to restrain herself." - -"She is as good as gold, you know, Frederic." He shrugged his shoulders -and declared that he had not a word more to say about it. He could of -course remain in London till it should suit Mr. Greystock to take his -bride. "You'll break my heart if you say that," exclaimed the unhappy -mother. "Of course she shall leave the house if you wish it." - -"I wish nothing," said Lord Fawn. "But I peculiarly object to be told that -I am a--liar." Then he stalked away along the corridor and went down to -breakfast as black as a thundercloud. - - Lady Fawn and Lucy sat opposite to each other in church, but ihey did not -speak till the afternoon. Lady Fawn went to church in the carriage and -Lucy walked, and as Lucy retired to her room immediately on her return to -the house, there had not been an opportunity even for a word. After lunch -Amelia came up to her and sat down for a long discussion. "Now, Lucy, -something must be done, you know," said Amelia. - -"I suppose so." - -"Of course mamma must see you. She can't allow things to go on in this -way. Mamma is very unhappy, and didn't eat a morsel of breakfast." By this -latter assertion Amelia simply intended to imply that her mother had -refused to be helped a second time to fried bacon, as was customary. - -"Of course I shall go to her the moment she sends for me. Oh, I am so -unhappy!" - -"I don't wonder at that, Lucy. So is my brother unhappy. These things make -people unhappy. It is what the world calls temper, you know, Lucy." - -"Why did he tell me that Mr. Greystock isn't a gentleman? Mr. Greystock is -a gentleman. I meant to say nothing more than that." - -"But you did say more, Lucy." - -"When he said that Mr. Greystock wasn't a gentleman I told him it wasn't -true. Why did he say it? He knows all about it. Everybody knows. Would you -think it wise to come and abuse him to me when you know what he is to me? -I can't bear it, and I won't. I'll go away to-morrow if your mamma wishes -it." But that going away was just what Lady Fawn did not wish. - -"I think you know, Lucy, you should express your deep sorrow at what has -passed." - -"To your brother?" - -"Yes." - -"Then he would abuse Mr. Greystock again, and it would all be as bad as -ever. I'll beg Lord Fawn's pardon if he'll promise beforehand not to say a -word about Mr. Greystock." - -"You can't expect him to make a bargain like that, Lucy." - -"I suppose not. I dare say I'm very wicked, and I must be left wicked. -I'm too wicked to stay here. That's the long and the short of it." - -"I'm afraid you're proud, Lucy." - -"I suppose I am. If it wasn't for all that I owe to everybody here, and -that I love you all so much, I should be proud of being proud, because of -Mr. Greystock. Only it kills me to make Lady Fawn unhappy." - -Amelia left the culprit, feeling that no good had been done, and Lady Fawn -did not see the delinquent till late in the afternoon. Lord Fawn had in -the mean time wandered out along the river all alone to brood over the -condition of his affairs. It had been an evil day for him in which he had -first seen Lady Eustace. From the first moment of his engagement to her he -had been an unhappy man. Her treatment of him, the stories which reached -his ears from Mrs. Hittaway and others, Mr. Camperdown's threats of law in -regard to the diamonds, and Frank Greystock's insults, altogether made him -aware that he could not possibly marry Lady Eustace. But yet he had no -proper and becoming way of escaping from the bonds of his engagement. He -was a man with a conscience, and was made miserable by the idea of -behaving badly to a woman. Perhaps it might have been difficult to analyse -his misery and to decide how much arose from the feeling that he was -behaving badly, and how much from the conviction that the world would -accuse him of doing so; but between the two he was wretched enough. The -punishment of the offence had been commenced by Greystock's unavenged -insults, and it now seemed to him that this girl's conduct was a -continuation of it. The world was already beginning to treat him with that -want of respect which he so greatly dreaded. He knew that he was too weak -to stand up against a widely-spread expression of opinion that he had -behaved badly. There are men who can walk about the streets with composed -countenances, take their seats in Parliament if they happened to have -seats, work in their offices or their chambers or their counting-houses -with diligence, and go about the world serenely, even though everybody be -saying evil of them behind their backs. Such men can live down temporary -calumny, and almost take a delight in the isolation which it will produce. -Lord Fawn knew well that he was not such a man. He would have described -his own weakness as caused, perhaps, by a too thin-skinned sensitiveness. -Those who knew him were inclined to say that he lacked strength of -character, and perhaps courage. - -He had certainly engaged himself to marry this widow, and he was most -desirous to do what was right. He had said that he would not marry her -unless she would give up the necklace, and he was most desirous to be true -to his word. He had been twice insulted, and he was anxious to support -these injuries with dignity. Poor Lucy's little offence against him -rankled in his mind with the other great offences. That this humble friend -of his mother's should have been so insolent was a terrible thing to him. -He was not sure even whether his own sisters did not treat him with -scantier reverence than of yore. And yet he was so anxious to do right, -and do his duty in that state of life to which it had pleased God to call -him! As to much he was in doubt; but of two things he was quite sure--that -Frank Greystock was a scoundrel, and that Lucy Morris was the most -impertinent young woman in England. - -"What would you wish to have done, Frederic?" his mother said to him on -his return. - -"In what respect, mother?" - -"About Lucy Morris? I have not seen her yet. I have thought it better that -she should be left to herself for a while before I did so. I suppose she -must come down to dinner. She always does." - -"I do not wish to interfere with the young lady's meals." - -"No; but about meeting her? If there is to be no talking, it will be so -very unpleasant. It will be unpleasant to us all, but I am thinking -chiefly of you." - -"I do not wish anybody to be disturbed for my comfort." A young woman -coming down to dinner as though in disgrace, and not being spoken to by -any one, would in truth have had rather a soothing effect upon Lord Fawn, -who would have felt that the general silence and dullness had been -produced as a sacrifice in his honour. - -"I can, of course, insist that she should apologise; but if she refuses, -what shall I do then?" - -"Let there be no more apologies, if you please, mother." - -"What shall I do then, Frederic?" - -"Miss Morris's idea of an apology is a repetition of her offence with -increased rudeness. It is not for me to say what you should do. If it be -true that she is engaged to that man----" - -"It is true, certainly." - -"No doubt that will make her quite independent of you, and I can -understand that her presence here in such circumstances must be very -uncomfortable to you all. No doubt she feels her power." - -"Indeed, Frederic, you do not know her." - -"I can hardly say that I desire to know her better. You cannot suppose -that I can be anxious for further intimacy with a young lady who has twice -given me the lie in your house. Such conduct is, at least, very unusual; -and as no absolute punishment can be inflicted, the offender can only be -avoided. It is thus, and thus only, that such offences can be punished. I -shall be satisfied if you will give her to understand that I should prefer -that she should not address me again." - -Poor Lady Fawn was beginning to think that Lucy was right in saying that -there was no remedy for all these evils but that she should go away. But -whither was she to go? She had no home but such home as she could earn for -herself by her services as a governess, and in her present position it was -almost out of the question that she should seek another place. Lady Fawn, -too, felt that she had pledged herself to Mr. Greystock that till next -year Lucy should have a home at Fawn Court. Mr. Greystock, indeed, was now -an enemy to the family; but Lucy was not an enemy, and it was out of the -question that she should be treated with real enmity. She might be -scolded, and scowled at, and put into a kind of drawing-room Coventry for -a time, so that all kindly intercourse with her should be confined to -schoolroom work and bedroom conferences. She could be generally "sat -upon," as Nina would call it. But as for quarrelling with her, making a -real enemy of one whom they all loved, one whom Lady Fawn knew to be "as -good as gold," one who had become so dear to the old lady that actual -extrusion from their family affections would be like the cutting off of a -limb, that was simply impossible. "I suppose I had better go and see her," -said Lady Fawn, "and I have got such a headache!" - -"Do not see her on my account," said Lord Fawn. The duty, however, was -obligatory, and Lady Fawn with slow steps sought Lucy in the schoolroom. - -"Lucy," she said, seating herself, "what is to be the end of all this?" - -Lucy came up to her and knelt at her feet. "If you knew how unhappy I am -because I have vexed you." - -"I am unhappy, my dear, because I think you have been betrayed by warm -temper into misbehaviour." - -"I know I have." - -"Then why do you not control your temper?" - -"If anybody were to come to you, Lady Fawn, and make horrible accusations -against Lord Fawn or against Augusta, would not you be angry? Would you be -able to stand it?" - -Lady Fawn was not clear-headed; she was not clever; nor was she even -always rational. But she was essentially honest. She knew that she would -fly at anybody who should in her presence say such bitter things of any of -her children as Lord Fawn had said of Mr. Greystock in Lucy's hearing; and -she knew also that Lucy was entitled to hold Mr. Greystock as dearly as -she held her own son and daughters. Lord Fawn, at Fawn Court, could not do -wrong. That was a tenet by which she was obliged to hold fast. And yet -Lucy had been subjected to great cruelty. She thought awhile for a valid -argument. "My dear," she said, "your youth should make a difference." - -"Of course it should." - -"Though to me and to the girls you are as dear as any friend can be, and -may say just what you please. Indeed, we all live here in such a way that -we all do say just what we please, young and old together. But you ought -to know that Lord Fawn is different." - -"Ought he to say that Mr. Greystock is not a gentleman to me?" - -"We are, of course, very sorry that there should be any quarrel. It is all -the fault of that--nasty, false young woman." - -"So it is, Lady Fawn. Lady Fawn, I have been thinking about it all the -day, and I am quite sure that I had better not stay here while you and the -girls think badly of Mr. Greystock. It is not only about Lord Fawn, but -because of the whole thing. I am always wanting to say something good -about Mr. Greystock, and you are always thinking something bad about him. -You have been to me, oh, the very best friend that a girl ever had. Why -you should have treated me so generously I never could know." - -"Because we have loved you." - -"But when a girl has got a man whom she loves, and has promised to marry, -he must be her best friend of all. Is it not so, Lady Fawn?" The old woman -stooped down and kissed the girl who had got the man. "It is not -ingratitude to you that makes me think most of him; is it?" - -"Certainly not, dear." - -"Then I had better go away." - -"But where will you go, Lucy?" - -"I will consult Mr. Greystock." - -"But what can he do, Lucy? It will only be a trouble to him. He can't find -a home for you." - -"Perhaps they would have me at the deanery," said Lucy slowly. She had -evidently been thinking much of it all. "And, Lady Fawn, I will not go -down-stairs while Lord Fawn is here; and when he comes, if he does come -again while I am here, he shall not be troubled by seeing me. He may be -sure of that. And you may tell him that I don't defend myself, only I -shall always think that he ought not to have said that Mr. Greystock -wasn't a gentleman before me." When Lady Fawn left Lucy the matter was so -far settled that Lucy had neither been asked to come down to dinner, nor -had she been forbidden to seek another home. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -MR. GREYSTOCK'S TROUBLES - - -Frank Greystock stayed the Sunday in London and went down to Bobsborough -on the Monday. His father and mother and sister all knew of his engagement -to Lucy, and they had heard also that Lady Eustace was to become Lady -Fawn. Of the necklace they had hitherto heard very little, and of the -quarrel between the two lovers they had heard nothing. There had been many -misgivings at the deanery, and some regrets, about these marriages. Mrs. -Greystock, Frank's mother, was, as we are so wont to say of many women, -the best woman in the world. She was unselfish, affectionate, charitable, -and thoroughly feminine. But she did think that her son Frank, with all -his advantages, good looks, cleverness, general popularity, and seat in -Parliament, might just as well marry an heiress as a little girl without -twopence in the world. As for herself, who had been born a Jackson, she -could do with very little; but the Greystocks were all people who wanted -money. For them there was never more than ninepence in a shilling, if so -much. They were a race who could not pay their way with moderate incomes. -Even the dear dean, who really had a conscience about money, and who -hardly ever left Bobsborough, could not be kept quite clear of debt, let -her do what she would. As for the admiral, the dean's elder brother, he -had been notorious for insolvency; and Frank was a Greystock all over. He -was the very man to whom money with a wife was almost a necessity of -existence. - -And his pretty cousin, the widow, who was devoted to him, and would have -married him at a word, had ever so many thousands a year! Of course Lizzie -Eustace was not just all that she should be; but then who is? In one -respect, at any rate, her conduct had always been proper. There was no -rumour against her as to lovers or flirtations. She was very young, and -Frank might have moulded her as he pleased. Of course there were regrets. -Poor dear little Lucy Morris was as good as gold. Mrs. Greystock was quite -willing to admit that. She was not good-looking; so at least Mrs. -Greystock said. She never would allow that Lucy was good-looking. And she -didn't see much in Lucy, who, according to her idea, was a little chit of -a thing. Her position was simply that of a governess. Mrs. Greystock -declared to her daughter that no one in the whole world had a higher -respect for governesses than had she. But a governess is a governess; and -for a man in Frank's position such a marriage would be simply suicide. - -"You shouldn't say that, mamma, now; for it's fixed," said Ellinor -Greystock. - -"But I do say it, my dear. Things sometimes are fixed which must be -unfixed. You know your brother." - -"Frank is earning a large income, mamma." - -"Did you ever know a Greystock who didn't want more than his income?" - -"I hope I don't, mamma, and mine is very small." - -"You're a Jackson. Frank is Greystock to the very backbone. If he marries -Lucy Morris he must give up Parliament. That's all." - -The dean himself was more reticent and less given to interference than his -wife; but he felt it also. He would not for the world have hinted to his -son that it might be well to marry money; but he thought that it was a -good thing that his son should go where money was. He knew that Frank was -apt to spend his guineas faster than he got them. All his life long the -dean had seen what came of such spending. Frank had gone out into the -world and had prospered, but he could hardly continue to prosper unless he -married money. Of course there had been regrets when the news came of that -fatal engagement with Lucy Morris. "It can't be for the next ten years, at -any rate," said Mrs. Greystock. - -"I thought at one time that he would have made a match with his cousin," -said the dean. - -"Of course; so did everybody," replied Mrs. Dean. - -Then Frank came among them. He had intended staying some weeks, perhaps -for a month, and great preparations were made for him; but immediately on -his arrival he announced the necessity that was incumbent on him of going -down again to Scotland in ten days. "You've heard about Lizzie, of -course," he said. They had heard that Lizzie was to become Lady Fawn, but -beyond that they had heard nothing. "You know about the necklace?" asked -Frank. Something of a tale of a necklace had made its way even down to -quiet Bobsborough. They had been informed that there was a dispute between -the widow and the executors of the late Sir Florian about some diamonds. -"Lord Fawn is behaving about it in the most atrocious manner," continued -Frank, "and the long and the short of it is that there will be no -marriage!" - -"No marriage!" exclaimed Mrs. Greystock. - -"And what is the truth about the diamonds?" asked the dean. - -"Ah; it will give the lawyers a job before they decide that. They're very -valuable; worth about ten thousand pounds, I'm told; but the most of it -will go among some of my friends at the Chancery bar. It's a pity that I -should be out of the scramble myself." - -"But why should you be out?" asked his mother with tender regrets, not -thinking of the matter as her son was thinking of it, but feeling that -when there was so much wealth so very near him, he ought not to let it all -go past him. - -"As far as I can see," continued Frank, "she has a fair claim to them. I -suppose they'll file a bill in Chancery, and then it will be out of my -line altogether. She says her husband gave them to her, absolutely put -them on her neck himself, and told her that they were hers. As to their -being an heirloom, that turns out to be impossible. I didn't know it, but -it seems you can't make diamonds an heirloom. What astonishes me is, that -Fawn should object to the necklace. However, he has objected, and has -simply told her that he won't marry her unless she gives them up." - -"And what does she say?" - -"Storms and raves, as of course any woman would. I don't think she is -behaving badly. What she wants is, to reduce him to obedience, and then to -dismiss him. I think that is no more than fair. Nothing on earth would -make her marry him now." - -"Did she ever care for him?" - -"I don't think she ever did. She found her position to be troublesome, and -she thought she had better marry. And then he's a lord, which always goes -for something." - -"I am sorry you should have so much trouble," said Mrs. Greystock. But in -truth the mother was not sorry. She did not declare to herself that it -would be a good thing that her son should be false to Lucy Morris in order -that he might marry his rich cousin; but she did feel it to be an -advantage that he should be on terms of intimacy with so large an income -as that belonging to Lady Eustace. "Doan't thou marry for munny, but goa -where munny is." Mrs. Greystock would have repudiated the idea of -mercenary marriages in any ordinary conversation, and would have been -severe on any gentleman who was false to a young lady. But it is so hard -to bring one's general principles to bear on one's own conduct or in one's -own family; and then the Greystocks were so peculiar a people! When her -son told her that he must go down to Scotland again very shortly, she -reconciled herself to his loss. Had he left Bobsborough for the sake of -being near Lucy at Richmond, she would have felt it very keenly. - -Days passed by, and nothing was said about poor Lucy. Mrs. Greystock had -made up her mind that she would say nothing on the subject. Lucy had -behaved badly in allowing herself to be loved by a man who ought to have -loved money, and Mrs. Greystock had resolved that she would show her -feelings by silence. The dean had formed no fixed determination, but he -had thought that it might be, perhaps, as well to drop the subject. Frank -himself was unhappy about it; but from morning to evening, and from day to -day, he allowed it to pass by without a word. He knew that it should not -be so, that silence was in truth treachery to Lucy; but he was silent. -What had he meant when, as he left Lizzie Eustace among the rocks at -Portray, in that last moment, he had assured her that he would be true to -her? And what had been Lizzie's meaning? He was more sure of Lizzie's -meaning than he was of his own. "It's a very rough world to live in," he -said to himself in these days, as he thought of his difficulties. - -But when he had been nearly a week at the deanery, and when the day of his -going was so near as to be a matter of concern, his sister did at last -venture to say a word about Lucy. "I suppose there is nothing settled -about your own marriage, Frank?" - -"Nothing at all." - -"Nor will be for some while?" - -"Nor will be for some while." This he said in a tone which he himself felt -to be ill-humoured and almost petulant. And he felt also that such ill- -humour on such a subject was unkind, not to his sister, but to Lucy. It -seemed to imply that the matter of his marriage was distasteful to him. -"The truth is," he said, "that nothing can be fixed. Lucy understands that -as well as I do. I am not in a position at once to marry a girl who has -nothing. It's a pity, perhaps, that one can't train one's self to like -some girl best that has got money; but as I haven't, there must be some -delay. She is to stay where she is, at any rate for a twelvemonth." - -"But you mean to see her?" - -"Well, yes; I hardly know how I can see her, as I have quarrelled to the -knife with Lord Fawn; and Lord Fawn is recognised by his mother and sister -as the one living Jupiter upon earth." - -"I like them for that," said Ellinor. - -"Only it prevents my going to Richmond; and poor Fawn himself is such an -indifferent Jupiter." - -That was all that was said about Lucy at Bobsborough, till there came a -letter from Lucy to her lover acquainting him with the circumstances of -her unfortunate position at Richmond. She did not tell him quite all the -circumstances. She did not repeat the strong expressions which Lord Fawn -had used, nor did she clearly explain how wrathful she had been herself. -"Lord Fawn has been here," she said, "and there has been ever so much -unpleasantness. He is very angry with you about Lady Eustace, and of -course Lady Fawn takes his part. I need not tell you whose part I take. -And so there have been what the servants call 'just a few words.' It is -very dreadful, isn't it? And, after all, Lady Fawn has been as kind as -possible. But the upshot of it is that I am not to stay here. You mustn't -suppose that I'm to be turned out at twelve hours' notice. I am to stay -till arrangements have been made, and everybody will be kind to me. But -what had I better do? I'll try and get another situation at once if you -think it best, only I suppose I should have to explain how long I could -stay. Lady Fawn knows that I am writing to you to ask you what you think -best." - -On receipt of this Greystock was very much puzzled. What a little fool -Lucy had been, and yet what a dear little fool! Who cared for Lord Fawn -and his hard words? Of course Lord Fawn would say all manner of evil -things of him, and would crow valiantly in his own farmyard; but it would -have been so much wiser on Lucy's part to have put up with the crowing, -and to have disregarded altogether the words of a man so weak and -insignificant! But the evil was done, and he must make some arrangement -for poor Lucy's comfort. Had he known exactly how matters stood, that the -proposition as to Lucy's departure had come wholly from herself, and that -at the present time all the ladies at Fawn Court--of course in the absence -of Lord Fawn--were quite disposed to forgive Lucy if Lucy would only be -forgiven, and hide herself when Lord Fawn should come; had Frank known all -this, he might, perhaps, have counselled her to remain at Richmond. But he -believed that Lady Fawn had insisted on Lucy's departure; and of course, -in such a case, Lucy must depart. He showed the letter to his sister, and -asked for advice. - -"How very unfortunate!" said Ellinor. - -"Yes; is it not?" - -"I wonder what she said to Lord Fawn?" - -"She would speak out very plainly." - -"I suppose she has spoken out plainly, or otherwise they would never have -told her to go away. It seems so unlike what I have always heard of Lady -Fawn." - -"Lucy can be very headstrong if she pleases," said Lucy's lover. "What on -earth had I better do for her? I don't suppose she can get another place -that would suit." - -"If she is to be your wife I don't think she should go into another place. -If it is quite fixed," she said, and then she looked into her brother's -face. - -"Well; what then?" - -"If you are sure you mean it----" - -"Of course I mean it." - -"Then she had better come here. As for her going out as a governess, and -telling the people that she is to be your wife in a few months, that is -out of the question. And it would, I think, be equally so that she should -go into any house and not tell the truth. Of course this would be the -place for her." It was at last decided that Ellinor should discuss the -matter with her mother. - -When the whole matter was unfolded to Mrs. Greystock that lady was more -troubled than ever. If Lucy were to come to the deanery, she must come as -Frank's affianced bride, and must be treated as such by all Bobsborough. -The dean would be giving his express sanction to the marriage, and so -would Mrs. Greystock herself. She knew well that she had no power of -refusing her sanction. Frank must do as he pleased about marrying. Were -Lucy once his wife, of course she would be made welcome to the best the -deanery could give her. There was no doubt about Lucy being as good as -gold; only that real gold, vile as it is, was the one thing that Frank so -much needed. The mother thought that she had discovered in her son -something which seemed to indicate a possibility that this very imprudent -match might at last be abandoned; and if there were such possibility, -surely Lucy ought not now to be brought to the deanery. Nevertheless, if -Frank were to insist upon her coming, she must come. - -But Mrs. Greystock had a plan. "Oh, mamma," said Ellinor, when the plan -was proposed to her, "do not you think that would be cruel?" - -"Cruel, my dear! no; certainly not cruel." - -"She is such a virago." - -"You think that because Lizzie Eustace has said so. I don't know that -she's a virago at all. I believe her to be a very good sort of woman." - -"Do you remember, mamma, what the admiral used to say of her?" - -"The admiral, my dear, tried to borrow her money, as he did everybody's, -and when she wouldn't give him any, then he said severe things. The poor -admiral was never to be trusted in such matters." - -"I don't think Frank would like it," said Ellinor. The plan was this. Lady -Linlithgow, who, through her brother-in-law, the late Admiral Greystock, -was connected with the dean's family, had made known her desire to have a -new companion for six months. The lady was to be treated like a lady, but -was to have no salary. Her travelling expenses were to be paid for her and -no duties were to be expected from her, except that of talking and -listening to the countess. - -"I really think it's the very thing for her," said Mrs. Greystock. "It's -not like being a governess. She's not to have any salary." - -"I don't know whether that makes it better, mamma." - -"It would just be a visit to Lady Linlithgow. It is that which makes the -difference, my dear." - -Ellinor felt sure that her brother would not hear of such an engagement, -but he did hear of it, and, after various objections, gave a sort of -sanction to it. It was not to be pressed upon Lucy if Lucy disliked it. -Lady Linlithgow was to be made to understand that Lucy might leave -whenever she pleased. It was to be an invitation, which Lucy might accept -if she were so minded. Lucy's position as an honourable guest was to be -assured to her. It was thought better that Lady Linlithgow should not be -told of Lucy's engagement unless she asked questions, or unless Lucy -should choose to tell her. Every precaution was to be taken, and then -Frank gave his sanction. He could understand, he said, that it might be -inexpedient that Lucy should come at once to the deanery, as, were she to -do so, she must remain there till her marriage, let the time be ever so -long. "It might be two years," said the mother. - -"Hardly so long as that," said the son. - -"I don't think it would be--quite fair--to papa," said the mother. It was -well that the argument was used behind the dean's back, as, had it been -made in his hearing, the dean would have upset it at once. The dean was so -short-sighted and imprudent that he would have professed delight at the -idea of having Lucy Morris as a resident at the deanery. Frank acceded to -the argument, and was ashamed of himself for acceding. Ellinor did not -accede, nor did her sisters, but it was necessary that they should yield. -Mrs. Greystock at once wrote to Lady Linlithgow, and Frank wrote by the -same post to Lucy Morris. - -"As there must be a year's delay," he wrote, "we all here think it best -that your visit to us should be postponed for a while. But if you object -to the Linlithgow plan, say so at once. You shall be asked to do nothing -disagreeable." He found the letter very difficult to write. He knew that -she ought to have been welcomed at once to Bobsborough. And he knew, too, -the reason on which his mother's objection was founded. But it might be -two years before he could possibly marry Lucy Morris, or it might be -three. Would it be proper that she should be desired to make the deanery -her home for so long and so indefinite a time? And when an engagement was -for so long, could it be well that everybody should know it, as everybody -would if Lucy were to take up her residence permanently at the deanery? -Some consideration, certainly, was due to his father. - -And, moreover, it was absolutely necessary that he and Lizzie Eustace -should understand each other as to that mutual pledge of truth which had -passed between them. - -In the meantime he received the following letter from Messrs. Camperdown: - -"62 NEW SQUARE, LINCOLN'S INN, September 15, 18--. - -"DEAR SIR,--After what passed in our chambers the other day, we think it -best to let you know that we have been instructed by the executor of the -late Sir Florian Eustace to file a bill in Chancery against the widow, -Lady Eustace, for the recovery of valuable diamonds. You will oblige us by -making the necessary communication to her ladyship, and will perhaps tell -us the names of her ladyship's solicitors. - -"We are, dear sir, - -"Your very obedient servants, - -"CAMPERDOWN & SON. - -"F. GREYSTOCK, ESQ., M.P." - -A few days after the receipt of this letter Frank started for Scotland. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -FRANK GREYSTOCK'S SECOND VISIT TO PORTRAY - - -On this occasion Frank Greystock went down to Portray Castle with the -intention of staying at the house during the very short time that he would -remain in Scotland. He was going there solely on his cousin's business, -with no view to grouse-shooting or other pleasure, and he purposed -remaining but a very short time--perhaps only one night. His cousin, -moreover, had spoken of having guests with her, in which case there could -be no tinge of impropriety in his doing so. And whether she had guests, or -whether she had not, what difference could it really make? Mr. Andrew -Gowran had already seen what there was to see, and could do all the evil -that could be done. He could, if he were so minded, spread reports in the -neighbourhood, and might, perhaps, have the power of communicating what he -had discovered to the Eustace faction, John Eustace, Mr. Camperdown, and -Lord Fawn. That evil, if it were an evil, must be encountered with -absolute indifference. So he went direct to the castle, and was received -quietly, but very graciously, by his cousin Lizzie. - -There were no guests then staying at Portray; but that very distinguished -lady, Mrs. Carbuncle, with her niece, Miss Roanoke, had been there; as had -also that very well-known nobleman, Lord George de Bruce Carruthers. Lord -George and Mrs. Carbuncle were in the habit of seeing a good deal of each -other, though, as all the world knew, there was nothing between them but -the simplest friendship. And Sir Griffin Tewett had also been there, a -young baronet who was supposed to be enamoured of that most gorgeous of -beauties, Lucinda Roanoke. Of all these grand friends--friends with whom -Lizzie had become acquainted in London--nothing further need be said here, -as they were not at the castle when Frank arrived. When he came, whether -by premeditated plan or by the chance of circumstances, Lizzie had no one -with her at Portray except the faithful Macnulty. - -"I thought to have found you with all the world here," said Frank, the -faithful Macnulty being then present. - -"Well, we have had people, but only for a couple of days. They are all -coming again, but not till November. You hunt, don't you, Frank?" - -"I have no time for hunting. Why do you ask?" - -"I'm going to hunt. It's a long way to go--ten or twelve miles generally; -but almost everybody hunts here. Mrs. Carbuncle is coming again, and she -is about the best lady in England after hounds; so they tell me. And Lord -George is coming again." - -"Who is Lord George?" - -"You remember Lord George Carruthers, whom we all knew in London?" - -"What, the tall man with the hollow eyes and the big whiskers, whose life -is a mystery to every one? Is he coming?" - -"I like him just because he isn't a ditto to every man one meets. And Sir -Griffin Tewett is coming." - -"Who is a ditto to everybody." - -"Well, yes; poor Sir Griffin! The truth is, he is awfully smitten with -Mrs. Carbuncle's niece." - -"Don't you go match-making, Lizzie," said Frank. "That Sir Griffin is a -fool, we will all allow; but it's my belief he has wit enough to make -himself pass off as a man of fortune, with very little to back it. He's at -law with his mother, at law with his sisters, and at law with his younger -brother." - -"If he were at law with his great-grandmother, it would be nothing to me, -Frank. She has her aunt to take care of her, and Sir Griffin is coming -with Lord George." - -"You don't mean to put up all their horses, Lizzie?" - -"Well, not all. Lord George and Sir Griffin are to keep theirs at Troon, -or Kilmarnock, or somewhere. The ladies will bring two apiece, and I shall -have two of my own." - -"And carriage horses and hacks?" - -"The carriage horses are here, of course." - -"It will cost you a great deal of money, Lizzie." - -"That's just what I tell her," said Miss Macnulty. - -"I've been living here, not spending one shilling, for the last two -months," said Lizzie, "and all for the sake of economy; yet people think -that no woman was ever left so rich. Surely I can afford to see a few -friends for one month in the year. If I can't afford so much as that, I -shall let the place and go and live abroad somewhere. It's too much to -suppose that a woman should shut herself up here for six or eight months -and see nobody all the time." - -On that, the day of Frank's arrival, not a word was said about the -necklace, nor of Lord Fawn, nor of that mutual pledge which had been taken -and given, down among the rocks. Frank, before dinner, went out about the -place that he might see how things were going on, and observe whether the -widow was being ill-treated and unfairly eaten up by her dependents. He -was, too, a little curious as to a matter as to which his curiosity was -soon relieved. He had hardly reached the outbuildings which lay behind the -kitchen gardens on his way to the Portray woods, before he encountered -Andy Gowran. That faithful adherent of the family raised his hand to his -cap and bobbed his head, and then silently, and with renewed diligence, -applied himself to the job which he had in hand. The gate of the little -yard in which the cow-shed stood was off its hinges, and Andy was -resetting the post and making the fence tight and tidy. Frank stood a -moment watching him, and then asked after his health. "'Deed am I nae that -to boost about in the way of bodily heelth, Muster Greystock. I've just -o'er mony things to tent to, to tent to my ain sell as a prudent mon -ought. It's airly an' late wi' me, Muster Greystock; and the lumbagy just -a' o'er a mon isn't the pleasantest freend in the warld." Frank said that -he was sorry to hear so bad an account of Mr. Gowran's health, and passed -on. It was not for him to refer to the little scene in which Mr. Gowran -had behaved so badly and had shaken his head. If the misbehaviour had been -condoned by Lady Eustace, the less that he said about it, the better. Then -he went on through the woods, and was well aware that Mr. Gowran's -fostering care had not been abated by his disapproval of his mistress. The -fences had been repaired since Frank was there, and stones had been laid -on the road or track over which was to be carried away the underwood which -it would be Lady Eustace's privilege to cut during the coming winter. - -Frank was not alone for one moment with his cousin during that evening, -but in the presence of Miss Macnulty all the circumstances of the necklace -were discussed. "Of course it is my own," said Lady Eustace, standing up, -"my own to do just what I please with. If they go on like this with me, -they will almost tempt me to sell it for what it will fetch, just to prove -to them that I can do so. I have half a mind to sell it and then send them -the money and tell them to put it by for my little Flory. Would not that -serve them right, Frank?" - -"I don't think I'd do that, Lizzie." - -"Why not? You always tell me what not to do, but you never say what I -ought!" - -"That is because I am so wise and prudent. If you were to attempt to sell -the diamonds they would stop you, and would not give you credit for the -generous purpose afterward." - -"They wouldn't stop you if you sold the ring you wear." The ring had been -given to him by Lucy after their engagement, and was the only present she -had ever made him. It had been purchased out of her own earnings, and had -been put on his finger by her own hand. Either from accident or craft he -had not worn it when he had been before at Portray, and Lizzie had at once -observed it as a thing she had never seen before. She knew well that he -would not buy such a ring. Who had given him the ring? Frank almost -blushed as he looked down at the trinket, and Lizzie was sure that it had -been given by that sly little creeping thing, Lucy. "Let me look at the -ring," she said. "Nobody could stop you if you chose to sell this to me." - -"Little things are always less troublesome than big things," he said. - -"What is the price?" she asked. - -"It is not in the market, Lizzie. Nor should your diamonds be there. You -must be content to let them take what legal steps they may think fit, and -defend your property. After that you can do as you please; but keep them -safe till the thing is settled. If I were you I would have them at the -bankers." - -"Yes; and then when I asked for them be told that they couldn't be given -up to me because of Mr. Camperdown or the Lord Chancellor. And what's the -good of a thing locked up? You wear your ring; why shouldn't I wear my -necklace?" - -"I have nothing to say against it." - -"It isn't that I care for such things. Do I, Julia?" - -"All ladies like them, I suppose," said that stupidest and most stubborn -of all humble friends, Miss Macnulty. - -"I don't like them at all, and you know I don't. I hate them. They have -been the misery of my life. Oh, how they have tormented me! Even when I am -asleep I dream about them, and think that people steal them. They have -never given me one moment's happiness. When I have them on I am always -fearing that Camperdown & Son are behind me and are going to clutch them. -And I think too well of myself to believe that anybody will care more for -me because of a necklace. The only good they have ever done me has been to -save me from a man who I now know never cared for me. But they are mine; -and therefore I choose to keep them. Though I am only a woman, I have an -idea of my own rights, and will defend them as far as they go. If you say -I ought not to sell them, Frank, I'll keep them; but I'll wear them as -commonly as you do that _gage d'amour_ which you carry on your finger. -Nobody shall ever see me without them. I won't go to any old dowager's -tea-party without them. Mr. John Eustace has chosen to accuse me of -stealing them." - -"I don't think John Eustace has ever said a word about them," said Frank. - -"Mr. Camperdown, then; the people who choose to call themselves the -guardians and protectors of my boy, as if I were not his best guardian and -protector. I'll show them at any rate that I'm not ashamed of my booty. I -don't see why I should lock them up in a musty old bank. Why don't you -send your ring to the bank?" - -Frank could not but feel that she did it all very well. In the first -place, she was very pretty in the display of her half-mock indignation. -Though she used some strong words, she used them with an air that carried -them off and left no impression that she had been either vulgar or -violent. And then, though the indignation was half mock, it was also half -real, and her courage and spirit were attractive. Greystock had at last -taught himself to think that Mr. Camperdown was not justified in the claim -which he made, and that in consequence of that unjust claim Lizzie Eustace -had been subjected to ill-usage. "Did you ever see this bone of -contention," she asked; "this fair Helen for which Greeks and Romans are -to fight?" - -"I never saw the necklace, if you mean that." - -"I'll fetch it. You ought to see it, as you have to talk about it so -often." - -"Can I get it?" asked Miss Macnulty. - -"Heaven and earth! To suppose that I should ever keep them under less than -seven keys, and that there should be any of the locks that anybody should -be able to open except myself!" - -"And where are the seven keys?" asked Frank. - -"Next to my heart," said Lizzie, putting her hand on her left side. "And -when I sleep they are always tied round my neck in a bag, and the bag -never escapes from my grasp. And I have such a knife under my pillow, -ready for Mr. Camperdown should he come to seize them!" Then she ran out -of the room, and in a couple of minutes returned with the necklace hanging -loose in her hand. It was part of her little play to show by her speed -that the close locking of the jewels was a joke, and that the ornament, -precious as it was, received at her hands no other treatment than might -any indifferent feminine bauble. Nevertheless within those two minutes she -had contrived to unlock the heavy iron case which always stood beneath the -foot of her bed. "There," she said, chucking the necklace across the table -to Frank, so that he was barely able to catch it. "There is ten thousand -pounds' worth, as they tell me. Perhaps you will not believe me when I say -that I should have the greatest satisfaction in the world in throwing them -out among those blue waves yonder, did I not think that Camperdown & Son -would fish them up again." - -Frank spread the necklace on the table and stood up to look at it, while -Miss Macnulty came and gazed at the jewels over his shoulder. "And that is -worth ten thousand pounds," said he. - -"So people say." - -"And your husband gave it you just as another man gives a trinket that -costs ten shillings!" - -"Just as Lucy Morris gave you that ring." - -He smiled, but took no other notice of the accusation. "I am so poor a -man," said he, "that this string of stones, which you throw about the room -like a child's toy, would be the making of me." - -"Take it and be made," said Lizzie. - -"It seems an awful thing to me to have so much value in my hands," said -Miss Macnulty, who had lifted the necklace off the table. "It would buy an -estate; wouldn't it?" - -"It would buy the honourable estate of matrimony if it belonged to many -women," said Lizzie, "but it hasn't had just that effect with me; has it, -Frank?" - -"You haven't used it with that view yet." - -"Will you have it, Frank?" she said. "Take it with all its encumbrances -and weight of cares. Take it with all the burden of Messrs. Camperdown's -law-suits upon it. You shall be as welcome to it as flowers were ever -welcomed in May." - -"The encumbrances are too heavy," said Frank. - -"You prefer a little ring." - -"Very much." - -"I don't doubt but you're right," said Lizzie. "Who fears to rise will -hardly get a fall. But there they are for you to look at, and there they -shall remain for the rest of the evening." So saying, she clasped the -string round Miss Macnulty's throat. "How do you feel, Julia, with an -estate upon your neck? Five hundred acres at a pound an acre. That's about -it." Miss Macnulty looked as though she did not like it, but she stood for -a time bearing the precious burden, while Frank explained to his cousin -that she could hardly buy land to pay her five per cent. They were then -taken off and left lying on the table till Lady Eustace took them with her -as she went to bed. "I do feel so like some naughty person in the 'Arabian -Nights,'" she said, "who has got some great treasure that always brings -him into trouble; but he can't get rid of it, because some spirit has -given it to him. At last some morning it turns to slate stones, and then -he has to be a water-carrier, and is happy ever afterwards, and marries -the king's daughter. What sort of a king's son will there be for me when -this turns into slate stones? Good night, Frank." Then she went off with -her diamonds and her bed-candle. - -On the following day Frank suggested that there should be a business -conversation. "That means that I am to sit silent and obedient while you -lecture me," she said. But she submitted, and they went together into the -little sitting-room which looked out over the sea, the room where she kept -her Shelley and her Byron, and practised her music and did water-colours, -and sat, sometimes, dreaming of a Corsair. "And now, my gravest of -Mentors, what must a poor ignorant female Telemachus do, so that the world -may not trample on her too heavily?" He began by telling her what had -happened between himself and Lord Fawn, and recommended her to write to -that unhappy nobleman, returning any present that she might have received -from him, and expressing, with some mild but intelligible sarcasm, her -regret that their paths should have crossed each other. "I've worse in -store for his lordship than that," said Lizzie. - -"Do you mean by any personal interview?" - -"Certainly." - -"I think you are wrong, Lizzie." - -"Of course you do. Men have become so soft themselves, that they no longer -dare to think even of punishing those who behave badly, and they expect -women to be softer and more _fainéant_ than themselves. I have been ill- -used." - -"Certainly you have." - -"And I will be revenged. Look here, Frank; if your view of these things is -altogether different from mine, let us drop the subject. Of all living -human beings you are the one that is most to me now. Perhaps you are more -than any other ever was. But, even for you, I cannot alter my nature. Even -for you I would not alter it if I could. That man has injured me, and all -the world knows it. I will have my revenge, and all the world shall know -that. I did wrong; I am sensible enough of that." - -"What wrong do you mean?" - -"I told a man whom I never loved that I would marry him. God knows that I -have been punished." - -"Perhaps, Lizzie, it is better as it is." - -"A great deal better. I will tell you now that I could never have induced -myself to go into church with that man as his bride. With a man I didn't -love I might have done so, but not with a man I despised." - -"You have been saved, then, from a greater evil." - -"Yes; but not the less is his injury to me. It is not because he despises -me that he rejects me; nor is it because he thought that I had taken -property that was not my own." - -"Why then?" - -"Because he was afraid the world would say that I had done so. Poor -shallow creature! But he shall be punished." - -"I do not know how you can punish him." - -"Leave that to me. I have another thing to do much more difficult." She -paused, looking for a moment up into his face, and then turning her eyes -upon the ground. As he said nothing, she went on. "I have to excuse myself -to you for having accepted him." - -"I have never blamed you." - -"Not in words. How should you? But if you have not blamed me in your -heart, I despise you. I know you have. I have seen it in your eyes when -you have counselled me either to take the poor creature or to leave him. -Speak out, now, like a man. Is it not so?" - -"I never thought you loved him." - -"Loved him! Is there anything in him or about him that a woman could love? -Is he not a poor social stick; a bit of half-dead wood, good to make a -post of if one wants a post? I did want a post so sorely then!" - -"I don't see why." - -"No, indeed. It was natural that you should be inclined to marry again." - -"Natural that I should be inclined to marry again! And is that all? It is -hard sometimes to see whether men are thick-witted, or hypocrites so -perfect that they seem to be so. I cannot bring myself to think you thick- -witted, Frank." - -"Then I must be the perfect hypocrite, of course." - -"You believed I accepted Lord Fawn because it was natural that I should -wish to marry again! Frank, you believed nothing of the kind. I accepted -him in my anger, in my misery, in my despair, because I had expected you -to come to me, and you had not come." She had thrown herself now into a -chair, and sat looking at him. "You had told me you would come, and you -had stayed away. It was you, Frank, that I wanted to punish then; but -there was no punishment in it for you. When is it to be, Frank?" - -"When is what to be?" he asked, in a low voice, all but dumbfounded. How -was he to put an end to this conversation, and what was he to say to her? - -"Your marriage with that little wizened thing who gave you the ring, that -prim morsel of feminine propriety who has been clever enough to make you -believe that her morality would suffice to make you happy." - -"I will not hear Lucy Morris abused, Lizzie." - -"Is that abuse? Is it abuse to say that she is moral and proper? But, sir, -I shall abuse her. I know her for what she is, while your eyes are sealed. -She is wise and moral, and decorous and prim; but she is a hypocrite, and -has no touch of real heart in her composition. Not abuse her when she has -robbed me of all, all, all that I have in the world! Go to her. You had -better go at once. I did not mean to say all this, but it has been said, -and you must leave me. I, at any rate, cannot play the hypocrite. I wish I -could." He rose and came to her, and attempted to take her hand, but she -flung away from him. "No," she said, "never again; never, unless you will -tell me that the promise you made me when we were down on the seashore was -a true promise. Was that truth, sir, or was it a--lie?" - -"Lizzie, do not use such a word as that to me." - -"I cannot stand picking my words when the whole world is going round with -me, and my very brain is on fire. What is it to me what my words are? Say -one syllable to me, and every word I utter again while breath is mine -shall be spoken to do you pleasure. If you cannot say it, it is nothing to -me what you or any one may think of my words. You know my secret, and I -care not who else knows it. At any rate, I can die." Then she paused a -moment, and after that stalked steadily out of the room. - -That afternoon Frank took a long walk by himself over the mountains, -nearly to the cottage and back again; and on his return was informed that -Lady Eustace was ill, and had gone to bed. At any rate, she was too unwell -to come down to dinner. He, therefore, and Miss Macnulty sat down to dine, -and passed the evening together without other companionship. Frank had -resolved during his walk that he would leave Portray the next day; but had -hardly resolved upon anything else. One thing, however, seemed certain to -him. He was engaged to marry Lucy Morris, and to that engagement he must -be true. His cousin was very charming, and had never looked so lovely in -his eyes as when she had been confessing her love for him. And he had -wondered at and admired her courage, her power of language, and her force. -He could not quite forget how useful would be her income to him. And, -added to this, there was present to him an unwholesome feeling, ideas -absolutely at variance with those better ideas which had prompted him when -he was writing his offer to Lucy Morris in his chambers, that a woman such -as was his cousin Lizzie was fitter to be the wife of a man thrown, as he -must be, into the world, than a dear, quiet, domestic little girl such as -Lucy Morris. But to Lucy Morris he was engaged, and therefore there was an -end of it. - -The next morning he sent his love to his cousin, asking whether he should -see her before he went. It was still necessary that he should know what -attorneys to employ on her behalf if the threatened bill were filed by -Messrs. Camperdown. Then he suggested a firm in his note. Might he put the -case into the hands of Mr. Townsend, who was a friend of his own? There -came back to him a scrap of paper, an old envelope, on which were written -the names of Mowbray & Mopus: Mowbray & Mopus in a large scrawling hand, -and with pencil. He put the scrap of paper into his pocket, feeling that -he could not remonstrate with her at this moment, and was prepared to -depart, when there came a message to him. Lady Eustace was still unwell, -but had risen; and if it were not giving him too much trouble, would see -him before he went. He followed the messenger to the same little room, -looking out upon the sea, and then found her, dressed indeed, but with a -white morning wrapper on, and with hair loose over her shoulders. Her eyes -were red with weeping, and her face was pale, and thin, and woebegone. "I -am so sorry that you are ill, Lizzie," he said. - -"Yes, I am ill; sometimes very ill; but what does it matter? I did not -send for you, Frank, to speak of aught so trivial as that. I have a favour -to ask." - -"Of course I will grant it." - -"It is your forgiveness for my conduct yesterday." - -"Oh, Lizzie!" - -"Say that you forgive me. Say it!" - -"How can I forgive where there has been no fault?" - -"There has been fault. Say that you forgive me." And she stamped her foot -as she demanded his pardon. - -"I do forgive you," he said. - -"And now, one farewell." She then threw herself upon his breast and kissed -him. "Now go," she said; "go, and come no more to me, unless you would see -me mad. May God Almighty bless you, and make you happy." As she uttered -this prayer she held the door in her hand, and there was nothing for him -but to leave her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -MR. AND MRS. HITTAWAY IN SCOTLAND - - -A great many people go to Scotland in the autumn. When you have your -autumn holiday in hand to dispose of it, there is nothing more -aristocratic that you can do than go to Scotland. Dukes are more plentiful -there than in Pall Mall, and you will meet an earl or at least a lord on -every mountain. Of course, if you merely travel about from inn to inn, and -neither have a moor of your own nor stay with any great friend, you don't -quite enjoy the cream of it; but to go to Scotland in August and stay -there, perhaps, till the end of September, is about the most certain step -you can take towards autumnal fashion. Switzerland and the Tyrol, and even -Italy, are all redolent of Mr. Cook, and in those beautiful lands you -become subject at least to suspicion. - -By no person was the duty of adhering to the best side of society more -clearly appreciated than by Mr. and Mrs. Hittaway of Warwick Square. Mr. -Hittaway was Chairman of the Board of Civil Appeals, and was a man who -quite understood that there are chairmen and--chairmen. He could name to -you three or four men holding responsible permanent official positions, -quite as good as that he filled in regard to salary--which, as he often -said of his own, was a mere nothing, just a poor two thousand pounds a -year, not as much as a grocer would make in a decent business--but they -were simply head clerks and nothing more. Nobody knew anything of them. -They had no names. You did not meet them anywhere. Cabinet ministers never -heard of them; and nobody out of their own offices ever consulted them. -But there are others, and Mr. Hittaway felt greatly conscious that he was -one of them, who move altogether in a different sphere. One minister of -State would ask another whether Hittaway had been consulted on this or on -that measure--so at least the Hittawayites were in the habit of reporting. -The names of Mr. and Mrs. Hittaway were constantly in the papers. They -were invited to evening gatherings at the houses of both the alternate -Prime Ministers. They were to be seen at fashionable gatherings up the -river. They attended concerts at Buckingham Palace. Once a year they gave -a dinner-party which was inserted in the "Morning Post." On such occasions -at least one Cabinet Minister always graced the board. In fact, Mr. -Hittaway, as Chairman of the Board of Civil Appeals, was somebody; and -Mrs. Hittaway, as his wife, and as sister to a peer, was somebody also. -The reader will remember that Mrs. Hittaway had been a Fawn before she -married. - -There is this drawback upon the happy condition which Mr. Hittaway had -achieved, that it demands a certain expenditure. Let nobody dream that he -can be somebody without having to pay for that honour; unless, indeed, he -be a clergyman. When you go to a concert at Buckingham Palace you pay -nothing, it is true, for your ticket; and a Cabinet Minister dining with -you does not eat or drink more than your old friend Jones the attorney. -But in some insidious, unforeseen manner, in a way that can only be -understood after much experience, these luxuries of fashion do make a -heavy pull on a modest income. Mrs. Hittaway knew this thoroughly, having -much experience, and did make her fight bravely. For Mr. Hittaway's income -was no more than modest. A few thousand pounds he had of his own when he -married, and his Clara had brought to him the unpretending sum of fifteen -hundred. But, beyond that, the poor official salary--which was less than -what a decent grocer would make--was their all. The house in Warwick -Square they had prudently purchased on their marriage--when houses in -Warwick Square were cheaper than they are now--and there they carried on -their battle, certainly with success. But two thousand a year does not go -very far in Warwick Square, even though you sit rent free, if you have a -family and absolutely must keep a carriage. It therefore resulted that -when Mr. and Mrs. Hittaway went to Scotland, which they would endeavour to -do every year, it was very important that they should accomplish their -aristocratic holiday as visitors at the house of some aristocratic friend. -So well had they played their cards in this respect that they seldom -failed altogether. In one year they had been the guests of a great marquis -quite in the north, and that had been a very glorious year. To talk of -Stackallan was indeed a thing of beauty. But in that year Mr. Hittaway had -made himself very useful in London. Since that they had been at delicious -shooting lodges in Ross and Inverness-shire, had visited a millionaire at -his palace amid the Argyle mountains, had been fêted in a western island, -had been bored by a Dundee dowager, and put up with a Lothian laird. But -the thing had been almost always done, and the Hittaways were known as -people that went to Scotland. He could handle a gun, and was clever enough -never to shoot a keeper. She could read aloud, could act a little, could -talk or hold her tongue; and let her hosts be who they would, and as -mighty as you please, never caused them trouble by seeming to be out of -their circle and on that account requiring peculiar attention. - -On this occasion Mr. and Mrs. Hittaway were the guests of old Lady -Pierrepoint in Dumfries. There was nothing special to recommend Lady -Pierrepoint except that she had a large house and a good income, and that -she liked to have people with her of whom everybody knew something. So far -was Lady Pierrepoint from being high in the Hittaway world, that Mrs. -Hittaway felt herself called upon to explain to her friends that she was -forced to go to Dumdum House by the duties of old friendship. Dear old -Lady Pierrepoint had been insisting on it for the last ten years. And -there was this advantage, that Dumfriesshire is next to Ayrshire, that -Dumdum was not very far--some twenty or thirty miles--from Portray, and -that she might learn something about Lizzie Eustace in her country house. - -It was nearly the end of August when the Hittaways left London to stay an -entire month with Lady Pierrepoint. Mr. Hittaway had very frequently -explained his defalcation as to fashion--in that he was remaining in -London for three weeks after Parliament had broken up--by the peculiar -exigencies of the Board of Appeals in that year. To one or two very -intimate friends Mrs. Hittaway had hinted that everything must be made to -give way to this horrid business of Fawn's marriage. "Whatever happens, -and at whatever cost, that must be stopped," she had ventured to say to -Lady Glencora Palliser, who, however, could hardly be called one of her -very intimate friends. - -"I don't see it at all," said Lady Glencora. "I think Lady Eustace is very -nice. And why shouldn't she marry Lord Fawn if she's engaged to him?" - -"But you have heard of the necklace, Lady Glencora?" - -"Yes, I've heard of it. I wish anybody would come to me and try and get my -diamonds! They should hear what I would say." - -Mrs. Hittaway greatly admired Lady Glencora, but not the less was she -determined to persevere. - -Had Lord Fawn been altogether candid and open with his family at this -time, some trouble might have been saved; for he had almost altogether -resolved that let the consequences be what they might, he would not marry -Lizzie Eustace. But he was afraid to say this even to his own sister. He -had promised to marry the woman, and he must walk very warily or the -objurgations of the world would be too many for him. "It must depend -altogether on her conduct, Clara," he had said when last his sister had -persecuted him on the subject. She was not, however, sorry to have an -opportunity of learning something of the lady's doings. Mr. Hittaway had -more than once called on Mr. Camperdown. - -"Yes," Mr. Camperdown had said in answer to a question from Lord Fawn's -brother-in-law, "she would play old gooseberry with the property if we -hadn't some one to look after it. There's a fellow named Gowran who has -lived there all his life, and we depend very much upon him." - -It is certainly true that as to many points of conduct women are less nice -than men. Mr. Hittaway would not probably have condescended himself to -employ espionage, but Mrs. Hittaway was less scrupulous. She actually went -down to Troon and had an interview with Mr. Gowran, using freely the names -of Mr. Camperdown and Lord Fawn; and some ten days afterwards Mr. Gowran -travelled as far as Dumfries and Dumdum, and had an interview with Mrs. -Hittaway. The result of all this, and of further inquiries, will be shown -by the following letter from Mrs. Hittaway to her sister Amelia: - -"DUMDUM, September 9, 18--. - -"MY DEAR AMELIA: Here we are, and here we have to remain to the end of the -month. Of course it suits, and all that; but it is awfully dull. Richmond -for this time of the year is a paradise to it; and as for coming to -Scotland every autumn, I am sick of it. Only what is one to do if one -lives in London? If it wasn't for Orlando and the children I'd brazen it -out, and let people say what they pleased. As for health, I'm never so -well as at home, and I do like having my own things about me. Orlando has -literally nothing to do here. There is no shooting except pheasants, and -that doesn't begin till October. - -"But I'm very glad I've come as to Frederic, and the more so, as I have -learned the truth as to that Mr. Greystock. She, Lady Eustace, is a bad -creature in every way. She still pretends that she is engaged to Frederic, -and tells everybody that the marriage is not broken off, and yet she has -her cousin with her, making love to him in the most indecent way. People -used to say in her favour that at any rate she never flirted. I never -quite know what people mean when they talk of flirting. But you may take -my word for it that she allows her cousin to embrace her, and _embraces -him_. I would not say it if I could not prove it. It is horrible to think -of it, when one remembers that she is almost justified in saying that -Frederic is engaged to her. - -"No doubt he was engaged to her. It was a great misfortune, but, thank -God, is not yet past remedy. He has some foolish feeling of what he calls -honour; as if a man can be bound in honour to marry a woman who has -deceived him in every point! She still sticks to the diamonds, if she has -not sold them, as I believe she has; and Mr. Camperdown is going to bring -an action against her in the High Court of Chancery. But still Frederic -will not absolutely declare the thing off. I feel, therefore, that it is -my duty to let him know what I have learned. I should be the last to stir -in such a matter unless I was sure I could prove it. But I don't quite -like to write to Frederic. Will mamma see him, and tell him what I say? Of -course you will show this letter to mamma. If not, I must postpone it till -I am in town; but I think it would come better from mamma. Mamma may be -sure that she is a bad woman. - -"And now what do you think of your Mr. Greystock? As sure as I am here he -was seen with his arm round his cousin's waist, sitting out of doors, -_kissing her_. I was never taken in by that story of his marrying Lucy -Morris. He is the last man in the world to marry a governess. He is over -head and ears in debt, and if he marries at all, he must marry some one -with money. I really think that mamma and you, and all of you, have been -soft about that girl. I believe she has been a good governess, that is, -good after mamma's easy fashion; and I don't for a moment suppose that she -is doing anything underhand. But a governess with a lover never does suit, -and I'm sure it won't suit in this case. If I were you I would tell her. I -think it would be the best charity. Whether they mean to marry I can't -tell; Mr. Greystock, that is, and this woman; _but they ought to mean it_; -that's all. - -"Let me know at once whether mamma will see Frederic, and speak to him -openly. She is quite at liberty to use my name; only nobody but mamma -should see this letter. - -"Love to them all. - -"Your most affectionate sister, - -"CLARA HITTAWAY." - -In writing to Amelia instead of to her mother, Mrs. Hittaway was sure that -she was communicating her ideas to at least two persons at Fawn Court, and -that therefore there would be discussion. Had she written to her mother, -her mother might probably have held her peace, and done nothing. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -IT WON'T BE TRUE - - -Mrs. Greystock, in making her proposition respecting Lady Linlithgow, -wrote to Lady Fawn, and by the same post Frank wrote to Lucy. But before -those letters reached Fawn Court there had come that other dreadful letter -from Mrs. Hittaway. The consternation caused at Fawn Court in respect to -Mr. Greystock's treachery almost robbed of its importance the suggestion -made as to Lord Fawn. Could it be possible that this man, who had so -openly and in so manly a manner engaged himself to Lucy Morris, should now -be proposing to himself a marriage with his rich cousin? Lady Fawn did not -believe that it was possible. Clara had not seen those horrid things with -her own eyes, and other people might be liars. But Amelia shook her head. -Amelia evidently believed that all manner of iniquities were possible to -man. - -"You see, mamma, the sacrifice he was making was so very great!" - -"But he made it!" pleaded Lady Fawn. - -"No, mamma, he said he would make it. Men do these things. It is very -horrid, but I think they do them more now than they used to. It seems to -me that nobody cares now what he does, if he's not to be put into prison." -It was resolved between these two wise ones that nothing at the present -should be said to Lucy or to any one of the family. They would wait -awhile, and in the meantime they attempted, as far as it was possible to -make the attempt without express words, to let Lucy understand that she -might remain at Fawn Court if she pleased. While this was going on, Lord -Fawn did come down once again, and on that occasion Lucy simply absented -herself from the dinner-table and from the family circle for that evening. - -"He's coming in, and you've got to go to prison again," Nina said to her, -with a kiss. - -The matter to which Mrs. Hittaway's letter more specially alluded was -debated between the mother and daughter at great length. They, indeed, -were less brave and less energetic than was the married daughter of the -family; but as they saw Lord Fawn more frequently, they knew better than -Mrs. Hittaway the real state of the case. They felt sure that he was -already sufficiently embittered against Lady Eustace, and thought that -therefore the peculiarly unpleasant task assigned to Lady Fawn need not be -performed. Lady Fawn had not the advantage of living so much in the world -as her daughter, and was oppressed by, perhaps, a squeamish delicacy. - -"I really could not tell him about her sitting and--and kissing the man. -Could I, my dear?" - -"I couldn't," said Amelia; "but Clara would." - -"And to tell the truth," continued Lady Fawn, "I shouldn't care a bit -about it if it was not for poor Lucy. What will become of her if that man -is untrue to her?" - -"Nothing on earth would make her believe it, unless it came from himself," -said Amelia, who really did know something of Lucy's character. "Till he -tells her, or till she knows that he's married, she'll never believe it." - -Then, after a few days, there came those other letters from Bobsborough, -one from the dean's wife and the other from Frank. The matter there -proposed it was necessary that they should discuss with Lucy, as the -suggestion had reached Lucy as well as themselves. She at once came to -Lady Fawn with her lover's letter, and with a gentle merry laughing face -declared that the thing would do very well. "I am sure I should get on -with her, and I should know that it wouldn't be for long," said Lucy. - -"The truth is, we don't want you to go at all," said Lady Fawn. - -"Oh, but I must," said Lucy in her sharp, decided tone. "I must go. I was -bound to wait till I heard from Mr. Greystock, because it is my first duty -to obey him. But of course I can't stay here after what has passed. As -Nina says, it is simply going to prison when Lord Fawn comes here." - -"Nina is an impertinent little chit," said Amelia. - -"She is the dearest little friend in all the world," said Lucy, "and -always tells the exact truth. I do go to prison, and when he comes I feel -that I ought to go to prison. Of course I must go away. What does it -matter? Lady Linlithgow won't be exactly like you," and she put her little -hand upon Lady Fawn's fat arm caressingly, "and I sha'n't have you all to -spoil me; but I shall be simply waiting till he comes. Everything now must -be no more than waiting till he comes." - -If it was to be that he would never come--this was very dreadful. Amelia -clearly thought that "he" would never come, and Lady Fawn was apt to think -her daughter wiser than herself. And if Mr. Greystock were such as Mrs. -Hittaway had described him to be--if there were to be no such coming as -that for which Lucy fondly waited--then there would be reason tenfold -strong why she should not leave Fawn Court and go to Lady Linlithgow. In -such case, when that blow should fall, Lucy would require very different -treatment than might be expected for her from the hands of Lady -Linlithgow. She would fade and fall to the earth like a flower with an -insect at its root. She would be like a wounded branch into which no sap -would run. With such misfortune and wretchedness possibly before her, Lady -Fawn could not endure the idea that Lucy should be turned out to encounter -it all beneath the cold shade of Lady Linlithgow's indifference. "My -dear," she said, "let bygones be bygones. Come down and meet Lord Fawn. -Nobody will say anything. After all, you were provoked very much, and -there has been quite enough about it." - -This, from Lady Fawn, was almost miraculous--from Lady Fawn, to whom her -son had ever been the highest of human beings! But Lucy had told the tale -to her lover, and her lover approved of her going. Perhaps there was -acting upon her mind some feeling, of which she was hardly conscious, that -as long as she remained at Fawn Court she would not see her lover. She had -told him that she could make herself supremely happy in the simple -knowledge that he loved her. But we all know how few such declarations -should be taken as true. Of course she was longing to see him. "If he -would only pass by the road," she would say to herself, "so that I might -peep at him through the gate!" She had no formed idea in her own mind that -she would be able to see him should she go to Lady Linlithgow, but still -there would be the chances of her altered life! She would tell Lady -Linlithgow the truth, and why should Lady Linlithgow refuse her so -rational a pleasure? There was, of course, a reason why Frank should not -come to Fawn Court; but the house in Bruton Street need not be closed to -him. "I hardly know how to love you enough," she said to Lady Fawn, "but -indeed I must go. I do so hope the time may come when you and Mr. -Greystock may be friends. Of course it will come. Shall it not?" - -"Who can look into the future?" said the wise Amelia. - -"Of course if he is your husband we shall love him," said the less wise -Lady Fawn. - -"He is to be my husband," said Lucy, springing up. "What do you mean? Do -you mean anything?" Lady Fawn, who was not at all wise, protested that she -meant nothing. - -What were they to do? On that special day they merely stipulated that -there should be a day's delay before Lady Fawn answered Mrs. Greystock's -letter, so that she might sleep upon it. The sleeping on it meant that -further discussion which was to take place between Lady Fawn and her -second daughter in her ladyship's bedroom that night. During all this -period the general discomfort of Fawn Court was increased by a certain -sullenness on the part of Augusta, the elder daughter, who knew that -letters had come and that consultations were being held, but who was not -admitted to those consultations. Since the day on which poor Augusta had -been handed over to Lizzie Eustace as her peculiar friend in the family, -there had always existed a feeling that she by her position was debarred -from sympathising in the general desire to be quit of Lizzie; and then, -too, poor Augusta was never thoroughly trusted by that great guide of the -family, Mrs. Hittaway. "She couldn't keep it to herself if you'd give her -gold to do it," Mrs. Hittaway would say. Consequently Augusta was sullen -and conscious of ill-usage. - -"Have you fixed upon anything?" she said to Lucy that evening. - -"Not quite; only I am to go away." - -"I don't see why you should go away at all. Frederic doesn't Come here so -very often, and when he does come he doesn't say much to any one. I -suppose it's all Amelia's doing." - -"Nobody wants me to go, only I feel that I ought. Mr. Greystock thinks it -best." - -"I suppose he's going to quarrel with us all." - -"No, dear. I don't think he wants to quarrel with any one; but above all -he must not quarrel with me. Lord Fawn has quarrelled with him, and that's -a misfortune--just for the present." - -"And where are you going?" - -"Nothing has been settled yet; but we are talking of Lady Linlithgow--if -she will take me." - -"Lady Linlithgow! Oh dear!" - -"Won't it do?" - -"They say she's the most dreadful old woman in London. Lady Eustace told -such stories about her." - -"Do you know, I think I shall rather like it." - -But things were very different with Lucy the next morning. That discussion -in Lady Fawn's room was protracted till midnight, and then it was decided -that just a word should be said to Lucy, so that, if possible, she might -be induced to remain at Fawn Court. Lady Fawn was to say the word, and on -the following morning she was closeted with Lucy. - -"My dear," she began, "we all want you to do us a particular favour." As -she said this, she held Lucy by the hand, and no one looking at them would -have thought that Lucy was a governess and that Lady Fawn was her -employer. - -"Dear Lady Fawn, indeed it is better that I should go." - -"Stay just one month." - -"I couldn't do that, because then this chance of a home would be gone. Of -course we can't wait a month before we let Mrs. Greystock know." - -"We must write to her, of course." - -"And then, you see, Mr. Greystock wishes it." Lady Fawn knew that Lucy -could be very firm, and had hardly hoped that anything could be done by -simple persuasion. They had long been accustomed among themselves to call -her obstinate, and knew that even in her acts of obedience she had a way -of obeying after her own fashion. It was as well, therefore, that the -thing to be said should be said at once. - -"My dear Lucy, has it ever occurred to you that there may be a slip -between the cup and the lip?" - -"What do you mean, Lady Fawn?" - -"That sometimes engagements take place which never become more than -engagements. Look at Lord Fawn and Lady Eustace." - -"Mr. Greystock and I are not like that," said Lucy, proudly. - -"Such things are very dreadful, Lucy, but they do happen." - -"Do you mean anything--anything real, Lady Fawn?" - -"I have so strong a reliance on your good sense, that I will tell you just -what I do mean. A rumour has reached me that Mr. Greystock is--paying more -attention than he ought to do to Lady Eustace." - -"His own cousin!" - -"But people marry their cousins, Lucy." - -"To whom he has always been just like a brother! I do think that is the -cruellest thing. Because he sacrifices his time and his money and all his -holidays to go and look after her affairs, this is to be said of him! She -hasn't another human being to took after her, and therefore he is obliged -to do it. Of course he has told me all about it. I do think, Lady Fawn, I -do think that is the greatest shame I ever heard." - -"But if it should be true----" - -"It isn't true." - -"But just for the sake of showing you, Lucy----; if it was lo be true." - -"It won't be true." - -"Surely I may speak to you as your friend, Lucy. You needn't be so abrupt -with me. Will you listen to me, Lucy?" - -"Of course I will listen; only nothing that anybody on earth could say -about that would make me believe a word of it." - -"Very well! Now just let me go on. If it were to be so----" - -"Oh-h, Lady Fawn!" - -"Don't be foolish, Lucy. I will say what I've got to say. If--if--. Let me -see. Where was I? I mean just this: You had better remain here till things -are a little more settled. Even if it be only a rumour--and I'm sure I -don't believe it's anything more--you had better hear about it with us, -with friends round you, than with a perfect stranger like Lady Linlithgow. -If anything were to go wrong there, you wouldn't know where to come for -comfort. If anything were wrong with you here, you could come to me as -though I were your mother. Couldn't you now?" - -"Indeed, indeed I could. And I will. I always will. Lady Fawn, I love you -and the dear darling girls better than all the world--except Mr. -Greystock. If anything like that were to happen, I think I should creep -here and ask to die in your house. But it won't. And just now it will be -better that I should go away." - -It was found at last that Lucy must have her way, and letters were written -both to Mrs. Greystock and to Frank, requesting that the suggested -overtures might at once be made to Lady Linlithgow. Lucy, in her letter to -her lover, was more than ordinarily cheerful and jocose. She had a good -deal to say about Lady Linlithgow that was really droll, and not a word to -say indicative of the slightest fear in the direction of Lady Eustace. She -spoke of poor Lizzie, and declared her conviction that that marriage never -could come off now. "You mustn't be angry when I say that I can't break my -heart for them, for I never did think that they were very much in love. As -for Lord Fawn, of course he is my--ENEMY." And she wrote the word in big -letters. "And as for Lizzie, she's your cousin, and all that. And she's -ever so pretty, and all that. And she's as rich as Croesus, and all that. -But I don't think she'll break her own heart. I would break mine; only-- -only--only--. You will understand the rest. If it should come to pass, I -wonder whether 'the duchess' would ever let a poor creature see a friend -of hers in Bruton Street." Frank had once called Lady Linlithgow the -duchess after a certain popular picture in a certain popular book, and -Lucy never forgot anything that Frank had said. - -It did come to pass. Mrs. Greystock at once corresponded with Lady -Linlithgow, and Lady Linlithgow, who was at Ramsgate for her autumn -vacation, requested that Lucy Morris might be brought to see her at her -house in London on the second of October. Lady Linlithgow's autumn holiday -always ended on the last day of September. On the second of October Lady -Fawn herself took Lucy up to Bruton Street, and Lady Linlithgow appeared. -"Miss Morris," said Lady Fawn, "thinks it right that you should be told -that she's engaged to be married." - -"Who to?" demanded the Countess. - -Lucy was as red as fire, although she had especially made up her mind that -she would not blush when the communication was made. "I don't know that -she wishes me to mention the gentleman's name, just at present; but I can -assure you that he is all that he ought to be." - -"I hate mysteries," said the Countess. - -"If Lady Linlithgow----" began Lucy. - -"Oh, it's nothing to me," continued the old woman. "It won't come off for -six months, I suppose?" Lucy gave a mute assurance that there would be no -such difficulty as that. "And he can't come here, Miss Morris." To this -Lucy said nothing. Perhaps she might win over even the Countess, and if -not, she must bear her six months of prolonged exclusion from the light of -day. And so the matter was settled. Lucy was to be taken back to Richmond, -and to come again on the following Monday. - -"I don't like this parting at all, Lucy," Lady Fawn said on her way home. - -"It is better so, Lady Fawn." - -"I hate people going away; but, somehow, you don't feel it as we do." - -"You wouldn't say that if you really knew what I do feel." - -"There was no reason why you should go. Frederic was getting not to care -for it at all. What's Nina to do now? I can't get another governess after -you. I hate all these sudden breaks up. And all for such a trumpery thing. -If Frederic hasn't forgotten all about it, he ought." - -"It hasn't come altogether from him, Lady Fawn." - -"How has it come, then?" - -"I suppose it is because of Mr. Greystock. I suppose when a girl has -engaged herself to marry a man, she must think more of him than of -anything else." - -"Why couldn't you think of him at Fawn Court?" - -"Because--because things have been unfortunate. He isn't your friend, not -as yet. Can't you understand, Lady Fawn, that, dear as you all must be to -me, I must live in his friendships, and take his part when there is a -part?" - -"Then I suppose that you mean to hate all of us." Lucy could only cry at -hearing this; whereupon Lady Fawn also burst into tears. - -On the Sunday before Lucy took her departure, Lord Fawn was again at -Richmond. "Of course you'll come down, just as if nothing had happened," -said Lydia. - -"We'll see," said Lucy. - -"Mamma will be very angry, if you don't," said Lydia. - -But Lucy had a little plot in her head, and her appearance at the dinner- -table on that Sunday must depend on the manner in which her plot was -executed. After church, Lord Fawn would always hang about the grounds for -a while before going into the house; and on this morning Lucy also -remained outside. She soon found her opportunity, and walked straight up -to him, following him on the path. "Lord Fawn," she said, "I have come to -beg your pardon." - -He had turned round hearing footsteps behind him, but still was startled -and unready. "It does not matter at all," he said. - -"It matters to me, because I behaved badly." - -"What I said about Mr. Greystock wasn't intended to be said to you, you -know." - -"Even if it was, it would make no matter. I don't mean to think of that -now. I beg your pardon because I said what I ought not to have said." - -"You see, Miss Morris, that as the head of this family----" - -"If I had said it to Juniper, I would have begged his pardon." Now Juniper -was the gardener, and Lord Fawn did not quite like the way in which the -thing was put to him. The cloud came across his brow, and he began to fear -that she would again insult him. "I oughtn't to accuse anybody of an -untruth--not in that way; and I am very sorry for what I did, and I beg -your pardon." Then she turned as though she were going back to the house. - -But he stopped her. "Miss Morris, if it will suit you to stay with my -mother, I will never say a word against it." - -"It is quite settled that I am to go to-morrow, Lord Fawn. Only for that I -would not have troubled you again." - -Then she did turn towards the house, but he recalled her. "We will shake -hands, at any rate," he said, "and not part as enemies." So they shook -hands, and Lucy came down and sat in his company at the dinner-table. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -LADY LINLITHGOW AT HOME - - -Lucy, in her letter to her lover, had distinctly asked whether she might -tell Lady Linlithgow the name of her future husband, but had received no -reply when she was taken to Bruton Street. The parting at Richmond was -very painful, and Lady Fawn had declared herself quite unable to make -another journey up to London with the ungrateful runagate. Though there -was no diminution of affection among the Fawns, there was a general -feeling that Lucy was behaving badly. That obstinacy of hers was getting -the better of her. Why should she have gone? Even Lord Fawn had expressed -his desire that she should remain. And then, in the breasts of the wise -ones, all faith in the Greystock engagement had nearly vanished. Another -letter had come from Mrs. Hittaway, who now declared that it was already -understood about Portray that Lady Eustace intended to marry her cousin. -This was described as a terrible crime on the part of Lizzie, though the -antagonistic crime of a remaining desire to marry Lord Fawn was still -imputed to her. And, of course, the one crime heightened the other. So -that words from the eloquent pen of Mrs. Hittaway failed to make dark -enough the blackness of poor Lizzie's character. As for Mr. Greystock, he -was simply a heartless man of the world, wishing to feather his nest. Mrs. -Hittaway did not for a moment believe that he had ever dreamed of marrying -Lucy Morris. Men always have three or four little excitements of that kind -going on for the amusement of their leisure hours; so, at least, said Mrs. -Hittaway. "The girl had better be told at once." Such was her decision -about poor Lucy. - -"I can't do more than I have done," said Lady Fawn to Augusta. - -"She'll never get over it, mamma; never," said Augusta. - -Nothing more was said, and Lucy was sent off in the family carriage. Lydia -and Nina were sent with her, and though there was some weeping on the -journey, there was also much laughing. The character of the "duchess" was -discussed very much at large, and many promises were made as to long -letters. Lucy, in truth, was not unhappy. She would be nearer to Frank; -and then it had been almost promised her that she should go to the -deanery, after a residence of six months with Lady Linlithgow. At the -deanery of course she would see Frank; and she also understood that a long -visit to the deanery would be the surest prelude to that home of her own -of which she was always dreaming. - -"Dear me; sent you up in a carriage, has she? Why shouldn't you have come -by the railway?" - -"Lady Fawn thought the carriage best. She is so very kind." - -"It's what I call twaddle, you know. I hope you ain't afraid of going in a -cab." - -"Not in the least, Lady Linlithgow." - -"You can't have the carriage to go about here. Indeed, I never have a pair -of horses till after Christmas. I hope you know that I'm as poor as Job." - -"I didn't know." - -"I am, then. You'll get nothing beyond wholesome food with me. And I'm not -sure it is wholesome always. The butchers are scoundrels and the bakers -are worse. What used you to do at Lady Fawn's?" - -"I still did lessons with the two youngest girls." - -"You won't have any lessons to do here unless you do 'em with me. You had -a salary there?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"Fifty pounds a year, I suppose." - -"I had eighty." - -"Had you, indeed. Eighty pounds, and a coach to ride in!" - -"I had a great deal more than that, Lady Linlithgow." - -"How do you mean?" - -"I had downright love and affection. They were just so many dear friends. -I don't suppose any governess was ever so treated before. It was just like -being at home. The more I laughed the better every one liked it." - -"You won't find anything to laugh at here; at least I don't. If you want -to laugh, you can laugh up-stairs or down in the parlour." - -"I can do without laughing for a while." - -"That's lucky, Miss Morris. If they were all so good to you, what made you -come away? They sent you away, didn't they?" - -"Well, I don't know that I can explain it just all. There were a great -many things together. No; they didn't send me away. I came away because it -suited." - -"It was something to do with your having a lover, I suppose." To this Lucy -thought it best to make no answer, and the conversation for a while was -dropped. - -Lucy had arrived at about half-past three, and Lady Linlithgow was then -sitting in the drawing-room. After the first series of questions and -answers Lucy was allowed to go up to her room, and on her return to the -drawing-room found the Countess still sitting upright in her chair. She -was now busy with accounts, and at first took no notice of Lucy's return. -What were to be the companion's duties? What tasks in the house were to be -assigned to her? What hours were to be her own; and what was to be done in -those of which the Countess would demand the use? Up to the present moment -nothing had been said of all this. She had simply been told that she was -to be Lady Linlithgow's companion, without salary, indeed, but receiving -shelter, guardianship, and bread and meat in return for her services. She -took up a book from the table and sat with it for ten minutes. It was -Tupper's great poem, and she attempted to read it. Lady Linlithgow sat -totting up her figures, but said nothing. She had not spoken a word since -Lucy's return to the room; and as the great poem did not at first -fascinate the new companion--whose mind not unnaturally was somewhat -disturbed--Lucy ventured upon a question. "Is there anything I can do for -you, Lady Linlithgow?" - -"Do you know about figures?" - -"Oh, yes. I consider myself quite a ready-reckoner." - -"Can you make two and two come to five on one side of the sheet and only -come to three on the other?" - -"I'm afraid I can't do that and prove it afterwards." - -"Then you ain't worth anything to me." Having so declared, Lady Linlithgow -went on with her accounts and Lucy relapsed into her great poem. - -"No, my dear," said the Countess, when she had completed her work, "there -isn't anything for you to do. I hope you haven't come here with that -mistaken idea. There won't be any sort of work of any kind expected from -you. I poke my own fires and I carve my own bit of mutton. And I haven't -got a nasty little dog to be washed. And I don't care twopence about -worsted work. I have a maid to darn my stockings, and because she has to -work I pay her wages. I don't like being alone, so I get you to come and -live with me. I breakfast at nine, and if you don't manage to be down by -that time I shall be cross." - -"I am always up long before that." - -"There's lunch at two, just bread and butter and cheese, and perhaps a bit -of cold meat. There's dinner at seven; and very bad it is, because they -don't have any good meat in London. Down in Fifeshire the meat's a deal -better than it is here, only I never go there now. At half-past ten I go -to bed. It's a pity you're so young, because I don't know what you'll do -about going out. Perhaps, as you ain't pretty, it won't signify." - -"Not at all--I should think," said Lucy. - -"Perhaps you consider yourself pretty. It's all altered now since I was -young. Girls make monsters of themselves, and I'm told the men like it; -going about with unclean, frowsy structures on their heads, enough to make -a dog sick. They used to be clean and sweet and nice, what one would like -to kiss. How a man can like to kiss a face with a dirty horse's tail all -whizling about it, is what I can't at all understand. I don't think they -do like it, but they have to do it." - -"I haven't even a pony's tail," said Lucy. - -"They do like to kiss you, I dare say." - -"No, they don't," ejaculated Lucy, not knowing what answer to make. - -"I haven't hardly looked at you, but you didn't seem to me to be a -beauty." - -"You are quite right about that, Lady Linlithgow." - -"I hate beauties. My niece, Lizzie Eustace, is a beauty; and I think that, -of all heartless creatures in the world, she is the most heartless." - -"I know Lady Eustace very well." - -"Of course you do. She was a Greystock, and you know the Greystocks. And -she was down staying with old Lady Fawn at Richmond. I should think old -Lady Fawn had a time with her; hadn't she?" - -"It didn't go off very well." - -"Lizzie would be too much for the Fawns, I should think. She was too much -for me, I know. She's about as bad as anybody ever was. She's false, -dishonest, heartless, cruel, irreligious, ungrateful, mean, ignorant, -greedy, and vile." - -"Good gracious, Lady Linlithgow!" - -"She's all that, and a great deal worse. But she is handsome. I don't know -that I ever saw a prettier woman. I generally go out in a cab at three -o'clock, but I sha'n't want you to go with me. I don't know what you can -do. Macnulty used to walk round Grosvenor Square and think that people -mistook her for a lady of quality. You mustn't go and walk round Grosvenor -Square by yourself, you know. Not that I care." - -"I'm not a bit afraid of anybody," said Lucy. - -"Now you know all about it. There isn't anything for you to do. There are -Miss Edgeworth's novels down-stairs, and 'Pride and Prejudice' in my -bedroom. I don't subscribe to Mudie's, because when I asked for 'Adam -Bede,' they always sent me the 'Bandit Chief.' Perhaps you can borrow -books from your friends at Richmond. I dare say Mrs. Greystock has told -you that I'm very cross." - -"I haven't seen Mrs. Greystock for ever so long." - -"Then Lady Fawn has told you--or somebody. When the wind is east, or -northeast, or even north, I am cross, for I have the lumbago. It's all -very well talking about being good-humoured. You can't be good-humoured -with the lumbago. And I have the gout sometimes in my knee. I'm cross -enough, then, and so you'd be. And, among 'em all, I don't get much above -half what I ought to have out of my jointure. That makes me very cross. My -teeth are bad, and I like to have the meat tender. But it's always tough, -and that makes me cross. And when people go against the grain with me, as -Lizzie Eustace always did, then I'm very cross." - -"I hope you won't be very bad with me," said Lucy. - -"I don't bite, if you mean that," said her ladyship. - -"I'd sooner be bitten than barked at--sometimes," said Lucy. - -"Humph!" said the old woman, and then she went back to her accounts. - -Lucy had a few books of her own, and she determined to ask Frank to send -her some. Books are cheap things, and she would not mind asking him for -magazines, and numbers, and perhaps for the loan of a few volumes. In the -mean time she did read Tupper's poem, and "Pride and Prejudice," and one -of Miss Edgeworth's novels--probably for the third time. During the first -week in Bruton Street she would have been comfortable enough, only that -she had not received a line from Frank. That Frank was not specially good -at writing letters, she had already taught herself to understand. She was -inclined to believe that but few men of business do write letters -willingly, but that, of all men, lawyers are the least willing to do so. -How reasonable it was that a man who had to perform a great part of his -daily work with a pen in his hand should loathe a pen when not at work. To -her the writing of letters was perhaps the most delightful occupation of -her life, and the writing of letters to her lover was a foretaste of -heaven; but then men, as she knew, are very different from women. And she -knew this also, that, of all her immediate duties, no duty could be -clearer than that of abstaining from all jealousy, petulance, and -impatient expectation of little attentions. He loved her, and had told her -so, and had promised her that she should be his wife, and that ought to be -enough for her. She was longing for a letter, because she was very anxious -to know whether she might mention his name to Lady Linlithgow; but she -would abstain from any idea of blaming him because the letter did not -come. - -On various occasions the Countess showed some little curiosity about the -lover; and at last, after about ten days, when she found herself beginning -to be intimate with her new companion, she put the question point-blank. -"I hate mysteries," she said. "Who is the young man you are to marry?" - -"He is a gentleman I've known a long time." - -"That's no answer." - -"I don't want to tell his name quite yet, Lady Linlithgow." - -"Why shouldn't you tell his name, unless it's something improper? Is he a -gentleman?" - -"Yes, he is a gentleman." - -"And how old?" - -"Oh, I don't know; perhaps thirty-two." - -"And has he any money?" - -"He has his profession." - -"I don't like these kind of secrets, Miss Morris. If you won't say who he -is, what was the good of telling me that you were engaged at all? How is a -person to believe it?" - -"I don't want you to believe it." - -"Highty, tighty!" - -"I told you my own part of the affair, because I thought you ought to know -it as I was coming into your house. But I don't see that you ought to know -his part of it. As for not believing, I suppose you believed Lady Fawn?" - -"Not a bit better than I believe you. People don't always tell truth -because they have titles, nor yet because they've grown old. He don't live -in London, does he?" - -"He generally lives in London. He is a barrister." - -"Oh, oh! a barrister, is he? They're always making a heap of money, or -else none at all. Which is it with him?" - -"He makes something." - -"As much as you could put in your eye and see none the worse." To see the -old lady, as she made this suggestion, turn sharp round upon Lucy, was as -good as a play. "My sister's nephew, the dean's son, is one of the best of -the rising ones, I'm told." Lucy blushed up to her hair, but the dowager's -back was turned, and she did not see the blushes. "But he's in Parliament, -and they tell me he spends his money faster than he makes it. I suppose -you know him?" - -"Yes; I knew him at Bobsborough." - -"It's my belief that after all this fuss about Lord Fawn, he'll marry his -cousin, Lizzie Eustace. If he's a lawyer, and as sharp as they say, I -suppose he could manage her. I wish he would." - -"And she so bad as you say she is!" - -"She'll be sure to get somebody, and why shouldn't he have her money as -well as another? There never was a Greystock who didn't want money. That's -what it will come to; you'll see." - -"Never," said Lucy decidedly. - -"And why not?" - -"What I mean is that Mr. Greystock is, at least I should think so from -what I hear, the very last man in the world to marry for money." - -"What do you know of what a man would do?" - -"It would be a very mean thing; particularly if he does not love her." - -"Bother!" said the Countess. "They were very near it in town last year -before Lord Fawn came up at all. I knew as much as that. And it's what -they'll come to before they've done." - -"They'll never come to it," said Lucy. - -Then a sudden light flashed across the astute mind of the Countess. She -turned round in her chair, and sat for a while silent, looking at Lucy. -Then she slowly asked another question. "He isn't your young man, is he?" -To this Lucy made no reply. "So that's it, is it?" said the dowager. -"You've done me the honour of making my house your home till my own -sister's nephew shall be ready to marry you?" - -"And why not?" asked Lucy, rather roughly. - -"And Dame Greystock, from Bobsborough, has sent you here to keep you out -of her son's way. I see it all. And that old frump at Richmond has passed -you over to me because she did not choose to have such goings on under her -own eye." - -"There have been no goings on," said Lucy. - -"And he's to come here, I suppose, when my back's turned?" - -"He is not thinking of coming here. I don't know what you mean. Nobody has -done anything wrong to you. I don't know why you say such cruel things." - -"He can't afford to marry you, you know." - -"I don't know anything about it. Perhaps we must wait ever so long; five -years. That's nobody's business but my own." - -"I found it all out, didn't I?" - -"Yes, you found it out." - -"I'm thinking of that sly old Dame Greystock at Bobsborough sending you -here." Neither on that nor on the two following days did Lady Linlithgow -say a word further to Lucy about her engagement. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -TOO BAD FOR SYMPATHY - - -When Frank Greystock left Bobsborough to go to Scotland, he had not said -that he would return, nor had he at that time made up his mind whether he -would do so or no. He had promised to go and shoot in Norfolk, and had -half undertaken to be up in London with Herriot, working. Though it was -holiday-time, still there was plenty of work for him to do, various heavy -cases to get up and papers to be read, if only he could settle himself -down to the doing of it. But the scenes down in Scotland had been of a -nature to make him unfit for steady labour. How was he to sail his bark -through the rocks by which his present voyage was rendered so dangerous? -Of course, to the reader, the way to do so seems to be clear enough. To -work hard at his profession, to explain to his cousin that she had -altogether mistaken his feelings, and to be true to Lucy Morris, was so -manifestly his duty, that to no reader will it appear possible that to any -gentleman there could be a doubt. Instead of the existence of a -difficulty, there was a flood of light upon his path, so the reader will -think; a flood so clear that not to see his way was impossible. A man -carried away by abnormal appetites, and wickedness, and the devil, may of -course commit murder, or forge bills, or become a fraudulent director of a -bankrupt company. And so may a man be untrue to his troth, and leave true -love in pursuit of tinsel, and beauty, and false words, and a large -income. But why should one tell the story of creatures so base? One does -not willingly grovel in gutters, or breathe fetid atmospheres, or live -upon garbage. If we are to deal with heroes and heroines, let us, at any -rate, have heroes and heroines who are above such meanness as falsehood in -love. This Frank Greystock must be little better than a mean villain if he -allows himself to be turned from his allegiance to Lucy Morris for an hour -by the seductions and money of such a one as Lizzie Eustace. - -We know the dear old rhyme: - - It is good to be merry and wise, - It is good to be honest and true; - It is good to be off with the old love - Before you are on with the new. - -There was never better truth spoken than this, and if all men and women -could follow the advice here given, there would be very little sorrow in -the world. But men and women do not follow it. They are no more able to do -so than they are to use a spear, the staff of which is like a weaver's -beam, or to fight with the sword Excalibar. The more they exercise their -arms, the nearer will they get to using the giant's weapon, or even the -weapon that is divine. But as things are at present, their limbs are limp -and their muscles soft, and overfeeding impedes their breath. They attempt -to be merry without being wise, and have themes about truth and honesty -with which they desire to shackle others, thinking that freedom from such -trammels may be good for themselves. And in that matter of love, though -love is very potent, treachery will sometimes seem to be prudence, and a -hankering after new delights will often interfere with real devotion. - -It is very easy to depict a hero, a man absolutely stainless, perfect as -an Arthur, a man honest in all his dealings, equal to all trials, true in -all his speech, indifferent to his own prosperity, struggling for the -general good, and, above all, faithful in love. At any rate, it is as easy -to do that as to tell of the man who is one hour good and the next bad, -who aspires greatly but fails in practice, who sees the higher but too -often follows the lower course. There arose at one time a school of art -which delighted to paint the human face as perfect in beauty; and from -that time to this we are discontented unless every woman is drawn for us -as a Venus, or at least a Madonna. I do not know that we have gained much -by this untrue portraiture, either in beauty or in art. There may be made -for us a pretty thing to look at, no doubt; but we know that that pretty -thing is not really visaged as the mistress whom we serve, and whose -lineaments we desire to perpetuate on the canvas. The winds of heaven, or -the flesh-pots of Egypt, or the midnight gas, passions, pains, and perhaps -rouge and powder, have made her something different. But still there is -the fire of her eye and the eager eloquence of her mouth, and something -too, perhaps, left of the departing innocence of youth, which the painter -might give us without the Venus or the Madonna touches. But the painter -does not dare do it. Indeed, he has painted so long after the other -fashion that he would hate the canvas before him were he to give way to -the rouge-begotten roughness or to the flesh-pots, or even to the winds. -And how, my lord, would you, who are giving hundreds, more than hundreds, -for this portrait of your dear one, like to see it in print from the art -critic of the day, that she is a brazen-faced hoyden who seems to have had -a glass of wine too much, or to have been making hay? - -And so also has the reading world taught itself to like best the -characters of all but divine men and women. Let the man who paints with -pen and ink give the gas-light and the flesh-pots, the passions and pains, -the prurient prudence and the rouge-pots and pounce-boxes of the world as -it is, and he will be told that no one can care a straw for his creations. -With whom are we to sympathise? says the reader, who not unnaturally -imagines that a hero should be heroic. Oh, thou, my reader, whose -sympathies are in truth the great and only aim of my work, when you have -called the dearest of your friends round you to your hospitable table, how -many heroes are there sitting at the board? Your bosom friend, even if he -be a knight without fear, he is a knight without reproach? The Ivanhoe -that you know, did he not press Rebecca's hand? Your Lord Evandale, did he -not bring his coronet into play when he strove to win his Edith Bellenden? -Was your Tresilian still true and still forbearing when truth and -forbearance could avail him nothing? And those sweet girls whom you know, -do they never doubt between the poor man they think they love and the rich -man whose riches they know they covet? - -Go into the market, either to buy or sell, and name the thing you desire -to part with or to get, as it is, and the market is closed against you. -Middling oats are the sweepings of the granaries. A useful horse is a jade -gone at every point. Good sound port is sloe juice. No assurance short of -A 1 betokens even a pretence to merit. And yet in real life we are content -with oats that are really middling, are very glad to have a useful horse, -and know that if we drink port at all we must drink some that is neither -good nor sound. In those delineations of life and character which we call -novels, a similarly superlative vein is desired. Our own friends around us -are not always merry and wise, nor, alas, always honest and true. They are -often cross and foolish, and sometimes treacherous and false. They are so, -and we are angry. Then we forgive them, not without a consciousness of -imperfection on our own part. And we know, or at least believe, that -though they be sometimes treacherous and false, there is a balance of -good. We cannot have heroes to dine with us. There are none. And were -these heroes to be had, we should not like them. But neither are our -friends villains, whose every aspiration is for evil, and whose every -moment is a struggle for some achievement worthy of the devil. - -The persons whom you cannot care for in a novel because they are so bad, -are the very same that you so dearly love in your life because they are so -good. To make them and ourselves somewhat better, not by one spring -heavenward to perfection, because we cannot so use our legs, but by slow -climbing, is, we may presume, the object of all teachers, leaders, -legislators, spiritual pastors, and masters. He who writes tales such as -this probably also has, very humbly, some such object distantly before -him. A picture of surpassing godlike nobleness, a picture of a King Arthur -among men, may perhaps do much. But such pictures cannot do all. When such -a picture is painted, as intending to show what a man should be, it is -true. If painted to show what men are, it is false. The true picture of -life as it is, if it could be adequately painted, would show men what they -are and how they might rise, not indeed to perfection, but one step first, -and then another, on the ladder. - -Our hero, Frank Greystock, falling lamentably short in his heroism, was -not in a happy state of mind when he reached Bobsborough. It may be that -he returned to his own borough and to his mother's arms because he felt -that were he to determine to be false to Lucy he would there receive -sympathy in his treachery. His mother would, at any rate, think that it -was well, and his father would acknowledge that the fault committed was in -the original engagement with poor Lucy, and not in the treachery. He had -written that letter to her in his chambers one night in a fit of ecstasy; -and could it be right that the ruin of a whole life should be the -consequence? - -It can hardly be too strongly asserted that Lizzie Greystock did not -appear to Frank as she has been made to appear to the reader. In all this -affair of the necklace he was beginning to believe that she was really an -ill-used woman; and as to other traits in Lizzie's character, traits which -he had seen, and which were not of a nature to attract, it must be -remembered that beauty reclining in a man's arms does go far toward -washing white the lovely blackamoor. Lady Linlithgow, upon whom Lizzie's -beauty could have no effect of that kind, had nevertheless declared her to -be very beautiful. And this loveliness was of a nature that was altogether -pleasing, if once the beholder of it could get over the idea of falseness -which certainly Lizzie's eye was apt to convey to the beholder. There was -no unclean horse's tail. There was no get-up of flounces, and padding, and -paint, and hair, with a dorsal excrescence appended, with the object -surely of showing in triumph how much absurd ugliness women can force men -to endure. She was lithe, and active, and bright, and was at this moment -of her life at her best. Her growing charms had as yet hardly reached the -limits of full feminine loveliness, which, when reached, have been -surpassed. Luxuriant beauty had with her not as yet become comeliness; nor -had age or the good things of the world added a pound to the fairy -lightness of her footstep. All this had been tendered to Frank, and with -it that worldly wealth which was so absolutely necessary to his career. -For though Greystock would not have said to any man or woman that nature -had intended him to be a spender of much money and a consumer of many good -things, he did undoubtedly so think of himself. He was a Greystock, and to -what miseries would he not reduce his Lucy if, burdened by such -propensities, he were to marry her and then become an aristocratic pauper! - -The offer of herself by a woman to a man is, to us all, a thing so -distasteful that we at once declare that the woman must be abominable. -There shall be no whitewashing of Lizzie Eustace. She was abominable. But -the man to whom the offer is made hardly sees the thing in the same light. -He is disposed to believe that, in his peculiar case, there are -circumstances by which the woman is, if not justified, at least excused. -Frank did put faith in his cousin's love for himself. He did credit her -when she told him that she had accepted Lord Fawn's offer in pique, -because he had not come to her when he had promised that he would come. It -did seem natural to him that she should have desired to adhere to her -engagement when he would not advise her to depart from it. And then her -jealousy about Lucy's ring, and her abuse of Lucy, were proofs to him of -her love. Unless she loved him, why should she care to marry him? What was -his position that she should desire to share it, unless she so desired -because he was dearer to her than aught beside? He had not eyes clear -enough to perceive that his cousin was a witch whistling for a wind, and -ready to take the first blast that would carry her and her broomstick -somewhere into the sky. And then, in that matter of the offer, which in -ordinary circumstances certainly should not have come from her to him, did -not the fact of her wealth and of his comparative poverty cleanse her from -such stain as would, in usual circumstances, attach to a woman who is so -forward? He had not acceded to her proposition. He had not denied his -engagement to Lucy. He had left her presence without a word of -encouragement, because of that engagement. But he believed that Lizzie was -sincere. He believed, now, that she was genuine; though he had previously -been all but sure that falsehood and artifice were second nature to her. - -At Bobsborough he met his constituents, and made them the normal autumn -speech. The men of Bobsborough were well pleased and gave him a vote of -confidence. As none but those of his own party attended the meeting, it -was not wonderful that the vote was unanimous. His father, mother, and -sister all heard his speech, and there was a strong family feeling that -Frank was born to set the Greystocks once more upon their legs. When a man -can say what he likes with the certainty that every word will be reported, -and can speak to those around him as one manifestly their superior, he -always looms large. When the Conservatives should return to their proper -place at the head of affairs, there could be no doubt that Frank Greystock -would be made Solicitor-General. There were not wanting even ardent -admirers who conceived that, with such claims and such talents as his, the -ordinary steps in political promotion would not be needed, and that he -would become Attorney-General at once. All men began to say all good -things to the dean, and to Mrs. Greystock it seemed that the woolsack, or -at least the Queen's Bench with a peerage, was hardly an uncertainty. But -then, there must be no marriage with a penniless governess. If he would -only marry his cousin, one might say that the woolsack was won. - -Then came Lucy's letter; the pretty, dear, joking letter about the -"duchess" and broken hearts. "I would break my heart, only--only--only--." -Yes, he knew very well what she meant. I shall never be called upon to -break my heart, because you are not a false scoundrel. If you were a false -scoundrel--instead of being, as you are, a pearl among men--then I should -break my heart. That was what Lucy meant. She could not have been much -clearer, and he understood it perfectly. It is very nice to walk about -one's own borough and be voted unanimously worthy of confidence, and be a -great man; but if you are a scoundrel, and not used to being a scoundrel, -black care is apt to sit very close behind you as you go caracoling along -the streets. - -Lucy's letter required an answer, and how should he answer it? He -certainly did not wish her to tell Lady Linlithgow of her engagement, but -Lucy clearly wished to be allowed to tell, and on what ground could he -enjoin her to be silent? He knew, or he thought he knew, that till he -answered the letter, she would not tell his secret; and therefore from day -to day he put off the answer. A man does not write a love-letter usually -when he is in doubt himself whether he does or does not mean to be a -scoundrel. - -Then there came a letter to "Dame" Greystock, from Lady Linlithgow, which -filled them all with amazement. - -"MY DEAR MADAM," began the letter: - -"Seeing that your son is engaged to many Miss Morris--at least she says -so--you ought not to have sent her here without telling me all about it. -She says you know of the match, and she says that I can write to you if I -please. Of course I can do that without her leave. But it seems to me that -if you know all about it, and approve the marriage, your house and not -mine would be the proper place for her. - -"I'm told that Mr. Greystock is a great man. Any lady being with me as my -companion can't be a great woman. But perhaps you wanted to break it off; -else you would have told me. She shall stay here six months, but then she -must go. - -"Yours truly, - -"SUSANNA LINLITHGOW." - -It was considered absolutely necessary that this letter should be shown to -Frank. "You see," said his mother, "she told the old lady at once." - -"I don't see why she shouldn't." Nevertheless Frank was annoyed. Having -asked for permission, Lucy should at least have waited for a reply. - -"Well, I don't know," said Mrs. Greystock. "It is generally considered -that young ladies are more reticent about such things. She has blurted it -out and boasted about it at once." - -"I thought girls always told of their engagements," said Frank, "and I -can't for the life of me see that there was any boasting in it." Then he -was silent for a moment. "The truth is, we are all of us treating Lucy -very badly." - -"I cannot say that I see it," said his mother. - -"We ought to have had her here." - -"For how long, Frank?" - -"For as long as a home was needed by her." - -"Had you demanded it, Frank, she should have come, of course. But neither -I nor your father could have had pleasure in receiving her as your future -wife. You yourself say that it cannot be for two years at least." - -"I said one year." - -"I think, Frank, you said two. And we all know that such a marriage would -be ruinous to you. How could we make her welcome? Can you see your way to -having a house for her to live in within twelve months?" - -"Why not a house? I could have a house to-morrow." - -"Such a house as would suit you in your position? And, Frank, would it be -a kindness to marry her and then let her find that you were in debt?" - -"I don't believe she'd care if she had nothing but a crust to eat." - -"She ought to care, Frank." - -"I think," said the dean to his son on the next day, "that in our class of -life an imprudent marriage is the one thing that should be avoided. My -marriage has been very happy, God knows; but I have always been a poor -man, and feel it now when I am quite unable to help you. And yet your -mother had some fortune. Nobody, I think, cares less for wealth than I do. -I am content almost with nothing."--The nothing with which the dean had -hitherto been contented had always included every comfort of life, a well- -kept table, good wine, new books, and canonical habiliments with the gloss -still on; but as the Bobsborough tradesmen had, through the agency of Mrs. -Greystock, always supplied him with these things as though they came from -the clouds, he really did believe that he had never asked for anything.-- -"I am content almost with nothing. But I do feel that marriage cannot be -adopted as the ordinary form of life by men in our class as it can be by -the rich or by the poor. You, for instance, are called upon to live with -the rich, but are not rich. That can only be done by wary walking, and is -hardly consistent with a wife and children." - -"But men in my position do marry, sir." - -"After a certain age; or else they marry ladies with money. You see, -Frank, there are not many men who go into Parliament with means so -moderate as yours; and they who do, perhaps have stricter ideas of -economy." The dean did not say a word about Lucy Morris, and dealt -entirely with generalities. - -In compliance with her son's advice--or almost command--Mrs. Greystock did -not answer Lady Linlithgow's letter. He was going back to London, and -would give personally, or by letter written there, what answer might be -necessary. - -"You will then see Miss Morris?" asked his mother. - -"I shall certainly see Lucy. Something must be settled." There was a tone -in his voice as he said this which gave some comfort to his mother. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -LIZZIE'S GUESTS - - -True to their words, at the end of October, Mrs. Carbuncle and Miss -Roanoke, and Lord George de Bruce Carruthers and Sir Griffin Tewett, -arrived at Portray Castle. And for a couple of days there was a visitor -whom Lizzie was very glad to welcome, but of whose good nature on the -occasion Mr. Camperdown thought very ill indeed. This was John Eustace. -His sister-in-law wrote to him in very pressing language; and as--so he -said to Mr. Camperdown--he did not wish to seem to quarrel with his -brother's widow as long as such seeming might be avoided, he accepted the -invitation. If there was to be a lawsuit about the diamonds, that must be -Mr. Camperdown's affair. Lizzie had never entertained her friends in style -before. She had had a few people to dine with her in London and once or -twice had received company on an evening. But in all her London doings -there had been the trepidation of fear, to be accounted for by her youth -and widowhood; and it was at Portray--her own house at Portray--that it -would best become her to exercise hospitality. She had bided her time even -there, but now she meant to show her friends that she had got a house of -her own. - -She wrote even to her husband's uncle, the bishop, asking him down to -Portray. He could not come, but sent an affectionate answer, and thanked -her for thinking of him. Many people she asked who, she felt sure, would -not come, and one or two of them accepted her invitation. John Eustace -promised to be with her for two days. When Frank had left her, going out -of her presence in the manner that has been described, she actually wrote -to him, begging him to join her party. This was her note: - -"Come to me, just for a week," she said, "when my people are here, so that -I may not seem to be deserted. Sit at the bottom of my table, and be to me -as a brother might. I shall expect you to do so much for me." To this he -replied that he would come during the first week in November. - -And she got a clergyman down from London--the Rev. Joseph Emilius, of whom -it was said that he was born a Jew in Hungary, and that his name in his -own country had been Mealyus. At the present time he was among the most -eloquent of London preachers, and was reputed by some to have reached such -a standard of pulpit oratory as to have had no equal within the memory of -living hearers. In regard to his reading it was acknowledged that no one -since Mrs. Siddons had touched him. But he did not get on very well with -any particular bishop, and there was doubt in the minds of some people -whether there was or was not any--Mrs. Emilius. He had come up quite -suddenly within the last season, and had made church-going quite a -pleasant occupation to Lizzie Eustace. - -On the last day of October Mr. Emilius and Mr. John Eustace came, each -alone. Mrs. Carbuncle and Miss Roanoke came over with post-horses from -Ayr, as also did Lord George and Sir Griffin about an hour after them. -Frank was not yet expected. He had promised to name a day, and had not yet -named it. - -"Varra weel, varra weel," Gowran had said when he was told of what was -about to occur, and was desired to make preparations necessary in regard -to the outside plenishing of the house; "nae doot she'll do with her ain -what pleases her ainself. The mair ye poor out, the less there'll be left -in. Mr. Jo-ohn coming? I'll be glad then to see Mr. Jo-ohn. Oo, ay; aits; -there'll be aits eneuch. And anither coo! You'll want twa ither coos. I'll -see to the coos." And Andy Gowran, in spite of the internecine warfare -which existed between him and his mistress, did see to the hay, and the -cows, and the oats, and the extra servants that were wanted inside and -outside the house. There was enmity between him and Lady Eustace, and he -didn't care who knew it; but he took her wages and he did her work. - -Mrs. Carbuncle was a wonderful woman. She was the wife of a man with whom -she was very rarely seen, whom nobody knew, who was something in the City, -but somebody who never succeeded in making money; and yet she went -everywhere. She had at least the reputation of going everywhere, and did -go to a great many places. Carbuncle had no money--so it was said; and she -had none. She was the daughter of a man who had gone to New York and had -failed there. Of her own parentage no more was known. She had a small -house in one of the very small May Fair streets, to which she was wont to -invite her friends for five o'clock tea. Other receptions she never -attempted. During the London seasons she always kept a carriage, and -during the winters she always had hunters. Who paid for them no one knew -or cared. Her dress was always perfect, as far as fit and performance -went. As to approving Mrs. Carbuncle's manner of dress--that was a -question of taste. Audacity may, perhaps, be said to have been the ruling -principle of her toilet; not the audacity of indecency, which, let the -satirists say what they may, is not efficacious in England, but audacity -in colour, audacity in design, and audacity in construction. She would -ride in the park in a black and yellow habit, and appear at the opera in -white velvet without a speck of colour. Though certainly turned thirty, -and probably nearer to forty, she would wear her jet-black hair streaming -down her back, and when June came would drive about London in a straw hat. -But yet it was always admitted that she was well dressed. And then would -arise that question, Who paid the bills? - -Mrs. Carbuncle was certainly a handsome woman. She was full-faced, with -bold eyes, rather far apart, perfect black eyebrows, a well-formed broad -nose, thick lips, and regular teeth. Her chin was round and short, with -perhaps a little bearing towards a double chin. But though her face was -plump and round, there was a power in it, and a look of command, of which -it was perhaps difficult to say in what features was the seat. But in -truth the mind will lend a tone to every feature, and it was the desire of -Mrs. Carbuncle's heart to command. But perhaps the wonder of her face was -its complexion. People said, before they knew her, that, as a matter of -course, she had been made beautiful forever. But, though that too -brilliant colour was almost always there, covering the cheeks but never -touching the forehead or the neck, it would at certain moments shift, -change, and even depart. When she was angry, it would vanish for a moment -and then return intensified. There was no chemistry on Mrs. Carbuncle's -cheek; and yet it was a tint so brilliant and so little transparent as -almost to justify a conviction that it could not be genuine. There were -those who declared that nothing in the way of complexion so beautiful as -that of Mrs. Carbuncle's had been seen on the face of any other woman in -this age, and there were others who called her an exaggerated milkmaid. -She was tall, too, and had learned so to walk as though half the world -belonged to her. - -Her niece, Miss Roanoke, was a lady of the same stamp, and of similar -beauty, with those additions and also with those drawbacks which belong to -youth. She looked as though she were four-and-twenty, but in truth she was -no more than eighteen. When seen beside her aunt, she seemed to be no more -than half the elder lady's size; and yet her proportions were not -insignificant. She, too, was tall, and was as one used to command, and -walked as though she were a young Juno. Her hair was very dark--almost -black--and very plentiful. Her eyes were large and bright, though too bold -for a girl so young. Her nose and mouth were exactly as her aunt's, but -her chin was somewhat longer, so as to divest her face of that plump -roundness which perhaps took something from the majesty of Mrs. -Carbuncle's appearance. Miss Roanoke's complexion was certainly -marvellous. No one thought that she had been made beautiful forever, for -the colour would go and come and shift and change with every word and -every thought; but still it was there, as deep on her cheeks as on her -aunt's, though somewhat more transparent, and with more delicacy of tint -as the bright hues faded away and became merged in the almost marble -whiteness of her skin. With Mrs. Carbuncle there was no merging and -fading. The red and white bordered one another on her cheek without any -merging, as they do on a flag. - -Lucinda Roanoke was undoubtedly a very handsome woman. It probably never -occurred to man or woman to say that she was lovely. She had sat for her -portrait during the last winter, and her picture had caused much remark in -the Exhibition. Some said that she might be a Brinvilliers, others a -Cleopatra, and others again a Queen of Sheba. In her eyes as they were -limned there had been nothing certainly of love, but they who likened her -to the Egyptian queen believed that Cleopatra's love had always been used -simply to assist her ambition. They who took the Brinvilliers side of the -controversy were men so used to softness and flattery from women as to -have learned to think that a woman silent, arrogant, and hard of approach, -must be always meditating murder. The disciples of the Queen of Sheba -school, who formed perhaps the more numerous party, were led to their -opinion by the majesty of Lucinda's demeanour rather than by any clear -idea in their own minds of the lady who visited Solomon. All men, however, -agreed in this, that Lucinda Roanoke was very handsome, but that she was -not the sort of girl with whom a man would wish to stray away through the -distant beech-trees at a picnic. - -In truth she was silent, grave, and, if not really haughty, subject to all -the signs of haughtiness. She went everywhere with her aunt, and allowed -herself to be walked out at dances, and to be accosted when on horseback, -and to be spoken to at parties; but she seemed hardly to trouble herself -to talk; and as for laughing, flirting, or giggling, one might as well -expect such levity from a marble Minerva. During the last winter she had -taken to hunting with her aunt, and already could ride well to hounds. If -assistance were wanted at a gate, or in the management of a fence, and the -servant who attended the two ladies were not near enough to give it, she -would accept it as her due from the man nearest to her; but she rarely did -more than bow her thanks, and, even by young lords, or hard-riding -handsome colonels, or squires of undoubted thousands, she could hardly -ever be brought to what might be called a proper hunting-field -conversation. All of which things were noted, and spoken of, and admired. -It must be presumed that Lucinda Roanoke was in want of a husband, and yet -no girl seemed to take less pains to get one. A girl ought not to be -always busying herself to bring down a man, but a girl ought to give -herself some charms. A girl so handsome as Lucinda Roanoke, with pluck -enough to ride like a bird, dignity enough for a duchess, and who was -undoubtedly clever, ought to put herself in the way of taking such good -things as her charms and merits would bring her; but Lucinda Roanoke stood -aloof and despised everybody. So it was that Lucinda was spoken of when -her name was mentioned; and her name was mentioned a good deal after the -opening of the exhibition of pictures. - -There was some difficulty about her--as to who she was. That she was an -American was the received opinion. Her mother, as well as Mrs. Carbuncle, -had certainly been in New York. Carbuncle was a London man; but it was -supposed that Mr. Roanoke was, or had been, an American. The received -opinion was correct. Lucinda had been born in New York, had been educated -there till she was sixteen, and then been taken to Paris for nine months, -and from Paris had been brought to London by her aunt. Mrs. Carbuncle -always spoke of Lucinda's education as having been thoroughly Parisian. Of -her own education and antecedents, Lucinda never spoke at all. "I'll tell -you what it is," said a young scamp from Eton to his elder sister, when -her character and position were once being discussed, "she's a heroine, -and would shoot a fellow as soon as look at him." In that scamp's family -Lucinda was ever afterwards called the heroine. - -The manner in which Lord George de Bruce Carruthers had attached himself -to these ladies was a mystery; but then Lord George was always mysterious. -He was a young man--so considered--about forty-five years of age, who had -never done anything in the manner of other people. He hunted a great deal, -but he did not fraternise with hunting men, and would appear now in this -county and now in that, with an utter disregard of grass, fences, -friendships, or foxes. Leicester, Essex, Ayrshire, or the Baron had equal -delights for him; and in all counties he was quite at home. He had never -owned a fortune, and had never been known to earn a shilling. It was said -that early in life he had been apprenticed to an attorney at Aberdeen as -George Carruthers. His third cousin, the Marquis of Killiecrankie, had -been killed out hunting; the second scion of the noble family had fallen -at Balaclava; a third had perished in the Indian Mutiny; and a fourth, who -did reign for a few months, died suddenly, leaving a large family of -daughters. Within three years the four brothers vanished, leaving among -them no male heir, and George's elder brother, who was then in a West -India regiment, was called home from Demerara to be Marquis of -Killiecrankie. By a usual exercise of the courtesy of the Crown, all the -brothers were made lords, and some twelve years before the date of our -story George Carruthers, who had long since left the attorney's office at -Aberdeen, became Lord George de Carruthers. How he lived no one knew. That -his brother did much for him was presumed to be impossible, as the -property entailed on the Killiecrankie title certainly was not large. He -sometimes went into the City, and was supposed to know something about -shares. Perhaps he played a little, and made a few bets. He generally -lived with men of means, or perhaps with one man of means at a time; but -they who knew him well declared that he never borrowed a shilling from a -friend, and never owed a guinea to a tradesman. He always had horses, but -never had a home. When in London he lodged in a single room, and dined at -his club. He was a Colonel of Volunteers, having got up the regiment known -as the Long Shore Riflemen--the roughest regiment of volunteers in all -England--and was reputed to be a bitter Radical. He was suspected even of -republican sentiments, and ignorant young men about London hinted that he -was the grand centre of the British Fenians. He had been invited to stand -for the Tower Hamlets, but had told the deputation which waited upon him -that he knew a thing worth two of that. Would they guarantee his expenses, -and then give him a salary? The deputation doubted its ability to promise -so much. "I more than doubt it," said Lord George; and then the deputation -went away. - -In person he was a long-legged, long-bodied, long-faced man, with rough -whiskers and a rough beard on his upper lip but with a shorn chin. His -eyes were very deep set in his head, and his cheeks were hollow and -sallow; and yet he looked to be and was a powerful, healthy man. He had -large hands, which seemed to be all bone, and long arms, and a neck which -looked to be long, because he so wore his shirt that much of his throat -was always bare. It was manifest enough that he liked to have good-looking -women about him, and yet nobody presumed it probable that he would marry. -For the last two or three years there had been friendship between him and -Mrs. Carbuncle; and during the last season he had become almost intimate -with our Lizzie. Lizzie thought that perhaps he might be the Corsair whom, -sooner or later in her life, she must certainly encounter. - -Sir Griffin Tewett, who at the present period of his existence was being -led about by Lord George, was not exactly an amiable young baronet. Nor -were his circumstances such as make a man amiable. He was nominally not -only the heir to, but actually the possessor of a large property; but he -could not touch the principal, and of the income only so much as certain -legal curmudgeons would allow him. As Greystock had said, everybody was at -law with him, so successful had been his father in mismanaging, and -miscontrolling, and misappropriating the property. Tewett Hall had gone to -rack and ruin for four years, and was now let almost for nothing. He was a -fair, frail young man, with a bad eye, and a weak mouth, and a thin hand, -who was fond of liqueurs, and hated to the death any acquaintance who won -a five-pound note of him, or any tradesman who wished to have his bill -paid. But he had this redeeming quality--that having found Lucinda Roanoke -to be the handsomest woman he had ever seen, he did desire to make her his -wife. - -Such were the friends whom Lizzie Eustace received at Portray Castle on -the first day of her grand hospitality--together with John Eustace and Mr. -Joseph Emilius, the fashionable preacher from May Fair. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -LIZZIE'S FIRST DAY - - -The coming of John Eustace was certainly a great thing for Lizzie, though -it was only for two days. It saved her from that feeling of desertion -before her friends--desertion by those who might naturally belong to her-- -which would otherwise have afflicted her. His presence there for two days -gave her a start. She could call him John, and bring down her boy to him, -and remind him, with the sweetest smile--with almost a tear in her eye-- -that he was the boy's guardian. "Little fellow! So much depends on that -little life, does it not, John?" she said, whispering the words into his -ear. - -"Lucky little dog!" said John, patting the boy's head. "Let me see! of -course he'll go to Eton." - -"Not yet," said Lizzie with a shudder. - -"Well, no, hardly; when he's twelve." And then the boy was done with and -was carried away. She had played that card and had turned her trick. John -Eustace was a thoroughly good-natured man of the world, who could forgive -many faults, not expecting people to be perfect. He did not like Mrs. -Carbuncle; was indifferent to Lucinda's beauty; was afraid of that Tartar, -Lord George; and thoroughly despised Sir Griffin. In his heart he believed -Mr. Emilius to be an impostor, who might, for aught he knew, pick his -pocket: and Miss Macnulty had no attraction for him. But he smiled, and -was gay, and called Lady Eustace by her Christian name, and was content to -be of use to her in showing her friends that she had not been altogether -dropped by the Eustace people. - -"I got such a nice affectionate letter from the dear bishop," said Lizzie, -"but he couldn't come. He could not escape a previous engagement." - -"It's a long way," said John, "and he's not so young as he was once; and -then there are the Bobsborough parsons to look after." - -"I don't suppose anything of that kind stops him," said Lizzie, who did -not think it possible that a bishop's bliss should be alloyed by work. -John was so very nice that she almost made up her mind to talk to him -about the necklace; but she was cautious, and thought of it, and found -that it would be better that she should abstain. John Eustace was -certainly very good-natured, but perhaps he might say an ugly word to her -if she were rash. She refrained, therefore, and after breakfast on the -second day he took his departure with out an allusion to things that were -unpleasant. - -"I call my brother-in-law a perfect gentleman," said Lizzie with -enthusiasm, when his back was turned. - -"Certainly," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "He seems to me to be very quiet." - -"He didn't quite like his party," said Lord George. - -"I am sure he did," said Lizzie. - -"I mean as to politics. To him we are all turbulent demagogues and -Bohemians. Eustace is an old-world Tory, if there's one left anywhere. But -you're right, Lady Eustace; he is a gentleman." - -"He knows on which side his bread is buttered as well as any man," said -Sir Griffin. - -"Am I a demagogue," said Lizzie, appealing to the Corsair, "or a Bohemian? -I didn't know it." - -"A little in that way, I think, Lady Eustace; not a demagogue, but -demagogical; not Bohemian, but that way given." - -"And is Miss Roanoke demagogical?" - -"Certainly," said Lord George. "I hardly wrong you there, Miss Roanoke?" - -"Lucinda is a democrat, but hardly a demagogue, Lord George," said Mrs. -Carbuncle. - -"Those are distinctions which we hardly understand on this thick-headed -side of the water. But demagogues, democrats, demonstrations, and -Demosthenic oratory are all equally odious to John Eustace. For a young -man he's about the best Tory I know." - -"He is true to his colours," said Mr. Emilius, who had been endeavouring -to awake the attention of Miss Roanoke on the subject of Shakespeare's -dramatic action, "and I like men who are true to their colours." Mr. -Mealyus spoke with the slightest possible tone of foreign accent--a tone -so slight that it simply served to attract attention to him. - -While Eustace was still in the house, there had come a letter from Frank -Greystock, saying that he would reach Portray, by way of Glasgow, on -Wednesday, the 5th of November. He must sleep in Glasgow on that night, -having business, or friends, or pleasure demanding his attention in that -prosperous mart of commerce. It had been impressed upon him that he should -hunt, and he had consented. There was to be a meet out on the Kilmarnock -side of the county on that Wednesday, and he would bring a horse with him -from Glasgow. Even in Glasgow a hunter was to be hired, and could be sent -forty or fifty miles out of the town in the morning and brought back in -the evening. Lizzie had learned all about that, and had told him. If he -would call at MacFarlane's stables in Buchanan Street, or even write to -Mr. MacFarlane, he would be sure to get a horse that would carry him. -MacFarlane was sending horses down into the Ayrshire country every day of -his life. It was simply an affair of money. Three guineas for the horse, -and then just the expense of the railway. Frank, who knew quite as much -about it as did his cousin, and who never thought much of guineas or of -railway tickets, promised to meet the party at the meet ready equipped. -His things would go on by train, and Lizzie must send for them to Troon. -He presumed a beneficent Providence would take the horse back to the bosom -of Mr. MacFarlane. Such was the tenor of his letter. "If he don't mind, -he'll find himself astray," said Sir Griffin. "He'll have to go one way by -rail and his horse another." - -"We can manage better for our cousin than that," said Lizzie, with a -rebuking nod. - -But there was hunting from Portray before Frank Greystock came. It was -specially a hunting party, and Lizzie was to be introduced to the glories -of the field. In giving her her due, it must be acknowledged that she was -fit for the work. She rode well, though she had not ridden to hounds, and -her courage was cool. She looked well on horseback, and had that presence -of mind which should never desert a lady when she is hunting. A couple of -horses had been purchased for her, under Lord George's superintendence-- -his conjointly with Mrs. Carbuncle's--and had been at the castle for the -last ten days, "eating their varra heeds off," as Andy Gowran had said in -sorrow. There had been practising even while John Eustace was there, and -before her preceptors had slept three nights at the castle she had ridden -backward and forward half a dozen times over a stone wall. - -"Oh, yes," Lucinda had said, in answer to a remark from Sir Griffin, "it's -easy enough--till you come across something difficult." - -"Nothing difficult stops you," said Sir Griffin; to which compliment -Lucinda vouchsafed no reply. - -On the Monday Lizzie went out hunting for the first time in her life. It -must be owned that, as she put her habit on, and afterwards breakfasted -with all her guests in hunting gear around her, and then was driven with -them in her own carriage to the meet, there was something of trepidation -at her heart. And her feeling of cautious fear in regard to money had -received a shock. Mrs. Carbuncle had told her that a couple of horses fit -to carry her might perhaps cost her about £180. Lord George had received -the commission, and the check required from her had been for £320. Of -course she had written the check without a word, but it did begin to occur -to her that hunting was an expensive amusement. Gowran had informed her -that he had bought a rick of hay from a neighbour for £75 15_s._ 9_d._ -"God forgie me," said Andy, "but I b'lieve I've been o'er hard on the puir -man in your leddyship's service." £75 15_s._ 9_d._ did seem a great deal -of money to pay; and could it be necessary that she should buy a whole -rick? There were to be eight horses in the stable. To what friend could -she apply to learn how much of a rick of hay one horse ought to eat in a -month of hunting? In such a matter she might have trusted Andy Gowran -implicitly; but how was she to know that? And then, what if at some -desperate fence she were to be thrown off and break her nose and knock out -her front teeth! Was the game worth the candle? She was by no means sure -that she liked Mrs. Carbuncle very much. And though she liked Lord George -very well, could it be possible that he bought the horses for £90 each and -charged her £160? Corsairs do do these sort of things. The horses -themselves were two sweet dears, with stars on their foreheads, and -shining coats, and a delicious aptitude for jumping over everything at a -moment's notice. Lord George had not, in truth, made a penny by them, and -they were good hunters, worth the money; but how was Lizzie to know that? -But though she doubted, and was full of fears, she could smile and look as -though she liked it. If the worst should come she could certainly get -money for the diamonds. - -On that Monday the meet was comparatively near to them--distant only -twelve miles. On the following Wednesday it would be sixteen, and they -would use the railway, having the carriage sent to meet them in the -evening. The three ladies and Lord George filled the carriage, and Sir -Griffin was perched upon the box. The ladies' horses had gone on with two -grooms, and those for Lord George and Sir Griffin were to come to the -meet. Lizzie felt somewhat proud of her establishment and her equipage, -but at the same time somewhat fearful. Hitherto she knew but very little -of the country people, and was not sure how she might be received; and -then how would it be with her if the fox should at once start away across -country, and she should lack either the pluck or the power to follow? -There was Sir Griffin to look after Miss Roanoke, and Lord George to -attend to Mrs. Carbuncle. At last an idea so horrible struck her that she -could not keep it down. "What am I to do," she said, "if I find myself all -alone in a field, and everybody else gone away?" - -"We won't treat you quite in that fashion," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"The only possible way in which you can be alone in a field is that you -will have cut everybody else down," said Lord George. - -"I suppose it will all come right," said Lizzie, plucking up her courage, -and telling herself that a woman can die but once. - -Everything was right--as it usually is. The horses were there--quite a -throng of horses, as the two gentlemen had two each; and there was, -moreover, a mounted groom to look after the three ladies. Lizzie had -desired to have a groom to herself, but had been told that the expenditure -in horseflesh was more than the stable could stand. "All I ever want of a -man is to carry for me my flask, and waterproof, and luncheon," said Mrs. -Carbuncle. "I don't care if I never see a groom, except for that." - -"It's convenient to have a gate opened sometimes," said Lucinda, slowly. - -"Will no one but a groom do that for you?" asked Sir Griffin. - -"Gentlemen can't open gates," said Lucinda. Now, as Sir Griffin thought -that he had opened many gates during the last season for Miss Roanoke, he -felt this to be hard. - -But there were eight horses, and eight horses with three servants and a -carriage made quite a throng. Among the crowd of Ayrshire hunting men--a -lord or two, a dozen lairds, two dozen farmers, and as many men of -business out of Ayr, Kilmarnock, and away from Glasgow--it was soon told -that Lady Eustace and her party were among them. A good deal had been -already heard of Lizzie, and it was at least known of her that she had, -for her life, the Portray estate in her hands. So there was an -undercurrent of whispering, and that sort of commotion which the -appearance of newcomers does produce at a hunt-meet. Lord George knew one -or two men, who were surprised to find him in Ayrshire, and Mrs. Carbuncle -was soon quite at home with a young nobleman whom she had met in the Vale -with the Baron. Sir Griffin did not leave Lucinda's side, and for a while -poor Lizzie felt herself alone in a crowd. - -Who does not know that terrible feeling, and the all but necessity that -exists for the sufferer to pretend that he is not suffering--which again -is aggravated by the conviction that the pretence is utterly vain? This -may be bad with a man, but with a woman, who never looks to be alone in a -crowd, it is terrible. For five minutes, during which everybody else was -speaking to everybody--for five minutes, which seemed to her to be an -hour, Lizzie spoke to no one, and no one spoke to her. Was it for such -misery as this that she was spending hundreds upon hundreds, and running -herself into debt? For she was sure that there would be debt before she -parted with Mrs. Carbuncle. There are people, very many people, to whom an -act of hospitality is in itself a good thing; but there are others who are -always making calculations, and endeavouring to count up the thing -purchased against the cost. Lizzie had been told that she was a rich -woman--as women go, very rich. Surely she was entitled to entertain a few -friends; and if Mrs. Carbuncle and Miss Roanoke could hunt, it could not -be that hunting was beyond her own means. And yet she was spending a great -deal of money. She had seen a large wagon loaded with sacks of corn coming -up the hill to the Portray stables, and she knew that there would be a -long bill at the corn-chandler's. There had been found a supply of wine in -the cellars at Portray, which at her request had been inspected by her -cousin Frank; but it had been necessary, so he had told her, to have much -more sent down from London--champagne, and liqueurs, and other nice things -that cost money. - -"You won't like not to have them if these people are coming?" - -"Oh, no; certainly not," said Lizzie, with enthusiasm. What other rich -people did, she would do. But now, in her five minutes of misery, she -counted it all up, and was at a loss to find what was to be her return for -her expenditure. And then, if on this, her first day, she should have a -fall, with no tender hand to help her, and then find that she had knocked -out her front teeth! - -But the cavalcade began to move, and then Lord George was by her side. -"You mustn't be angry if I seem to stick too close to you," he said. She -gave him her sweetest smile as she told him that that would be impossible. -"Because, you know, though it's the easiest thing in the world to get -along out hunting, and women never come to grief, a person is a little -astray at first." - -"I shall be so much astray," said Lizzie. "I don't at all know how we are -going to begin. Are we hunting a fox now?" At this moment they were -trotting across a field or two, through a run of gates up to the first -covert. - -"Not quite yet. The hounds haven't been put in yet. You see that wood -there? I suppose they'll draw that." - -"What is drawing, Lord George? I want to know all about it, and I am so -ignorant. Nobody else will tell me." Then Lord George gave his lesson, and -explained the theory and system of foxhunting. - -"We're to wait here, then, till the fox runs away? But it's ever so large, -and if he runs away, and nobody sees him? I hope he will, because it will -be nice to go on easily." - -"A great many people hope that, and a great many think it nice to go on -easily. Only you must not confess to it." Then he went on with his -lecture, and explained the meaning of scent; was great on the difficulty -of getting away; described the iniquity of heading the fox; spoke of up -wind and down wind; got as far as the trouble of "carrying," and told her -that a good ear was everything in a big wood--when there came upon them -the thrice-repeated note of an old hound's voice, and the quick -scampering, and low, timid, anxious, trustful whinnying, of a dozen -comrade younger hounds, who recognised the sagacity of their well-known -and highly-appreciated elder. - -"That's a fox," said Lord George. - -"What shall I do now?" said Lizzie, all in a twitter. - -"Sit just where you are, and light a cigar, if you're given to smoking." - -"Pray don't joke with me. You know I want to do it properly." - -"And therefore you must sit just where you are, and not gallop about. -There's a matter of a hundred and twenty acres here, I should say, and a -fox doesn't always choose to be evicted at the first notice. It's a chance -whether he goes at all from a wood like this. I like woods myself, -because, as you say, we can take it easy; but if you want to ride, you -should--By George, they've killed him." - -"Killed the fox?" - -"Yes; he's dead. Didn't you hear?" - -"And is that a hunt?" - -"Well--as far as it goes, it is." - -"Why didn't he run away? What a stupid beast! I don't see so very much in -that. Who killed him? That man that was blowing the horn?" - -"The hounds chopped him." - -"Chopped him!" Lord George was very patient, and explained to Lizzie, who -was now indignant and disappointed, the misfortune of chopping. "And are -we to go home now? Is it all over?" - -"They say the country is full of foxes," said Lord George. "Perhaps we -shall chop half a dozen." - -"Dear me! Chop half a dozen foxes! Do they like to be chopped? I thought -they always ran away." - -Lord George was constant and patient, and rode at Lizzie's side from -covert to covert. A second fox they did kill in the same fashion as the -first; a third they couldn't hunt a yard; a fourth got to ground after -five minutes, and was dug out ingloriously, during which process a -drizzling rain commenced. - -"Where is the man with my waterproof?" demanded Mrs. Carbuncle. Lord -George had sent the man to see whether there was shelter to be had in a -neighbouring yard. And Mrs. Carbuncle was angry. "It's my own fault," she -said, "for not having my own man. Lucinda, you'll be wet." - -"I don't mind the wet," said Lucinda. Lucinda never did mind anything. - -"If you'll come with me, we'll get into a barn," said Sir Griffin. - -"I like the wet," said Lucinda. All the while seven men were at work with -picks and shovels, and the master and four or five of the more ardent -sportsmen were deeply engaged in what seemed to be a mining operation on a -small scale. The huntsman stood over giving his orders. One enthusiastic -man, who had been lying on his belly, grovelling in the mud for five -minutes, with a long stick in his hand, was now applying the point of it -scientifically to his nose. An ordinary observer with a magnifying glass -might have seen a hair at the end of the stick. - -"He's there," said the enthusiastic man, covered with mud, after a long- -drawn eager sniff at the stick. The huntsman deigned to give one glance. - -"That's rabbit," said the huntsman. A conclave was immediately formed over -the one visible hair that stuck to the stick, and three experienced -farmers decided that it was rabbit. The muddy, enthusiastic man, silenced -but not convinced, retired from the crowd, leaving his stick behind him, -and comforted himself with his brandy-flask. - -"He's here, my lord," said the huntsman to his noble master, "only we -ain't got nigh him yet." He spoke almost in a whisper, so that the -ignorant crowd should not hear the words of wisdom, which they wouldn't -understand, or perhaps believe. "It's that full of rabbits that the holes -is all hairs. They ain't got no terrier here, I suppose. They never has -aught that is wanted in these parts. Work round to the right, there-- -that's his line." The men did work round to the right, and in something -under an hour the fox was dragged out by his brush and hind legs, while -the experienced whip who dragged him held the poor brute tight by the back -of his neck. "An old dog, my lord. There's such a many of 'em here, that -they'll be a deal better for a little killing." Then the hounds ate their -third fox for that day. - -Lady Eustace, in the mean time, and Mrs. Carbuncle, with Lord George, had -found their way to the shelter of a cattle-shed. Lucinda had slowly -followed, and Sir Griffin had followed her. The gentlemen smoked cigars, -and the ladies, when they had eaten their luncheons and drunk their -sherry, were cold and cross. - -"If this is hunting," said Lizzie, "I really don't think so much about -it." - -"It's Scotch hunting," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I have seen foxes dug out south of the Tweed," suggested Lord George. - -"I suppose everything is slow after the Baron," said Mrs. Carbuncle, who -had distinguished herself with the Baron's stag-hounds last March. - -"Are we to go home now?" asked Lizzie, who would have been well pleased to -have received an answer in the affirmative. - -"I presume they'll draw again," exclaimed Mrs. Carbuncle, with an angry -frown on her brow. "It's hardly two o'clock." - -"They always draw till seven in Scotland," said Lord George. - -"That's nonsense," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "It's dark at four." - -"They have torches in Scotland," said Lord George. - -"They have a great many things in Scotland that are very far from -agreeable," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "Lucinda, did you ever see three foxes -killed without five minutes' running, before? I never did." - -"I've been out all day without finding at all," said Lucinda, who loved -the truth. - -"And so have I," said Sir Griffin; "often. Don't you remember that day -when we went down from London to Bringher Wood, and they pretended to find -at half-past four? That's what I call a sell!" - -"They're going on, Lady Eustace," said Lord George. "If you're not tired, -we might as well see it out." Lizzie was tired, but said that she was not, -and she did see it out. They found a fifth fox, but again there was no -scent. "Who the ---- is to hunt a fox with people scurrying about like -that?" said the huntsman very angrily, dashing forward at a couple of -riders. "The hounds is behind you, only you ain't a-looking. Some people -never do look." The two peccant riders, unfortunately, were Sir Griffin -and Lucinda. - -The day was one of those from which all the men and woman return home -cross, and which induce some half-hearted folk to declare to themselves -that they never will hunt again. When the master decided a little after -three that he would draw no more, because there wasn't a yard of scent, -our party had nine or ten miles to ride back to their carriages. Lizzie -was very tired, and when Lord George took her from her horse could almost -have cried from fatigue. Mrs. Carbuncle was never fatigued, but she had -become damp--soaking wet through, as she herself said--during the four -minutes that the man was absent with her waterproof jacket, and could not -bring herself to forget the ill-usage she had suffered. Lucinda had become -absolutely dumb, and any observer would have fancied that the two -gentlemen had quarrelled with each other. - -"You ought to go on the box now," said Sir Griffin, grumbling. - -"When you're my age and I'm yours, I will," said Lord George, taking his -seat in the carriage. Then he appealed to Lizzie. "You'll let me smoke, -won't you?" She simply bowed her head. And so they went home--Lord George -smoking, and the ladies dumb. Lizzie, as she dressed for dinner, almost -cried with vexation and disappointment. - -There was a little conversation up-stairs between Mrs. Carbuncle and -Lucinda, when they were free from the attendance of their joint maid. "It -seems to me," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "that you won't make up your mind about -anything." - -"There is nothing to make up my mind about." - -"I think there is--a great deal. Do you mean to take this man who is -dangling after you?" - -"He isn't worth taking." - -"Carruthers says that the property must come right, sooner or later. You -might do better, perhaps, but you won't trouble yourself. We can't go on -like this forever, you know." - -"If you hated it as much as I do, you wouldn't want to go on." - -"Why don't you talk to him? I don't think he's at all a bad fellow." - -"I've nothing to say." - -"He'll offer to-morrow, if you'll accept him." - -"Don't let him do that, Aunt Jane. I couldn't say Yes. As for loving him-- -oh, laws!" - -"It won't do to go on like this, you know." - -"I'm only eighteen; and it's my money, aunt." - -"And how long will it last? If you can't accept him, refuse him, and let -somebody else come." - -"It seems to me," said Lucinda, "that one is as bad as another. I'd a deal -sooner marry a shoemaker and help him to make him shoes." - -"That's downright wickedness," said Mrs. Carbuncle. And then they went -down to dinner. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -NAPPIE'S GRAY HORSE - - -During the leisure of Tuesday our friends regained their good humour, and -on the Wednesday morning they again started for the hunting-field. Mrs. -Carbuncle, who probably felt that she had behaved ill about the groom and -in regard to Scotland, almost made an apology, and explained that a cold -shower always did make her cross. "My dear Lady Eustace, I hope I wasn't -very savage." - -"My dear Mrs. Carbuncle, I hope I wasn't very stupid," said Lizzie with a -smile. - -"My dear Lady Eustace, and my dear Mrs. Carbuncle, and my dear Miss -Roanoke, I hope I wasn't very selfish," said Lord George. - -"I thought you were," said Sir Griffin. - -"Yes, Griff; and so were you; but I succeeded." - -"I am almost glad that I wasn't of the party," said Mr. Emilius, with that -musical foreign tone of his. "Miss Macnulty and I did not quarrel; did -we?" - -"No, indeed," said Miss Macnulty, who had liked the society of Mr. -Emilius. - -But on this morning there was an attraction for Lizzie which the Monday -had wanted. She was to meet her cousin, Frank Greystock. The journey was -long, and the horses had gone on over night. They went by railway to -Kilmarnock, and there a carriage from the inn had been ordered to meet -them. Lizzie, as she heard the order given, wondered whether she would -have to pay for that, or whether Lord George and Sir Griffin would take so -much off her shoulders. Young women generally pay for nothing; and it was -very hard that she, who was quite a young woman, should have to pay for -all. But she smiled, and accepted the proposition. "Oh, yes; of course a -carriage at the station. It is so nice to have some one to think of -things, like Lord George." The carriage met them, and everything went -prosperously. Almost the first person they saw was Frank Greystock, in a -black coat indeed, but riding a superb gray horse, and looking quite as -though he knew what he was about. He was introduced to Mrs. Carbuncle and -Miss Roanoke and Sir Griffin. With Lord George he had some slight previous -acquaintance. - -"You've had no difficulty about a horse?" said Lizzie. - -"Not the slightest. But I was in an awful fright this morning. I wrote to -MacFarlane from London, and absolutely hadn't a moment to go to his place -yesterday or this morning. I was staying over at Glenshiels, and had not a -moment to spare in catching the train. But I found a horse-box on, and a -lad from MacFarlane's just leaving as I came up." - -"Didn't he send a boy down with the horse?" asked Lord George. - -"I believe there is a boy, and the boy'll be awfully bothered. I told them -to book the horse for Kilmarnock." - -"They always do book for Kilmarnock for this meet," said a gentleman who -had made acquaintance with some of Lizzie's party on the previous hunting- -day; "but Stewarton is ever so much nearer." - -"So somebody told me in the carriage," continued Frank, "and I contrived -to get my box off at Stewarton. The guard was uncommon civil, and so was -the porter. But I hadn't a moment to look for the boy." - -"I always make my fellow stick to his horses," said Sir Griffin. - -"But you see, Sir Griffin, I haven't got a fellow, and I've only hired a -horse. But I shall hire a good many horses from Mr. MacFarlane if he'll -always put me up like this." - -"I'm so glad you're here!" said Lizzie. - -"So am I. I hunt about twice in three years, and no man likes it so much. -I've still got to find out whether the beast can jump." - -"Any mortal thing alive, sir," said one of those horsey-looking men who -are to be found in all hunting-fields, who wear old brown breeches, old -black coats, old hunting-caps, who ride screws, and never get thrown out. - -"You know him, do you?" said Frank. - -"I know him. I didn't know as Muster MacFarlane owned him. No more he -don't," said the horsey man, turning aside to one of his friends. "That's -Nappie's horse, from Jamaica Street." - -"Not possible," said the friend. - -"You'll tell me I don't know my own horse next." - -"I don't believe you ever owned one," said the friend. - -Lizzie was in truth delighted to have her cousin beside her. He had, at -any rate, forgiven what she had said to him at his last visit, or he would -not have been there. And then, too, there was a feeling of reality in her -connection with him, which was sadly wanting to her, unreal as she was -herself, in her acquaintance with the other people around her. And on this -occasion three or four people spoke or bowed to her, who had only stared -at her before; and the huntsman took off his cap, and hoped that he would -do something better for her than on the previous Monday. And the huntsman -was very courteous also to Miss Roanoke, expressing the same hope, cap in -hand, and smiling graciously. A huntsman at the beginning of any day or at -the end of a good day is so different from a huntsman at the end of a bad -day! A huntsman often has a very bad time out hunting, and it is sometimes -a marvel that he does not take the advice which Job got from his wife. But -now all things were smiling, and it was soon known that his lordship -intended to draw Craigattan Gorse. Now in those parts there is no surer -find, and no better chance of a run, than Craigattan Gorse affords. - -"There is one thing I want to ask, Mr. Greystock," said Lord George, in -Lizzie's hearing." - -"You shall ask two," said Frank. - -"Who is to coach Lady Eustace to-day, you or I?" - -"Oh, do let me have somebody to coach me," said Lizzie. - -"For devotion in coachmanship," said Frank--"devotion, that is, to my -cousin--I defy the world. In point of skill I yield to Lord George." - -"My pretensions are precisely the same," said Lord George. "I glow with -devotion; my skill is naught." - -"I like you best, Lord George," said Lizzie, laughing. - -"That settles the question," said Lord George. - -"Altogether," said Frank, taking off his hat. - -"I mean as a coach," said Lizzie. - -"I quite understand the extent of the preference," said Lord George. -Lizzie was delighted, and thought the game was worth the candle. The noble -master had told her that they were sure of a run from Craigattan, and she -wasn't in the least tired, and they were not called upon to stand still in -a big wood, and it didn't rain, and, in every respect, the day was very -different from Monday. Mounted on a bright-skinned, lively steed, with her -cousin on one side and Lord George de Bruce Carruthers on the other, with -all the hunting world of her own county civil around her, and a fox just -found in Craigattan Gorse, what could the heart of woman desire more? This -was to live. There was, however, just enough of fear to make the blood run -quickly to her heart. - -"We'll be away at once now," said Lord George with utmost earnestness; -"follow me close, but not too close. When the men see that I am giving you -a lead, they won't come between. If you hang back, I'll not go ahead. Just -check your horse as he comes to his fences, and, if you can, see me over -before you go at them. Now then, down the hill; there's a gate at the -corner, and a bridge over the water. We couldn't be better. By George! -there they are, all together. If they don't pull him down in the first two -minutes, we shall have a run." - -Lizzie understood most of it, more at least than would nine out of ten -young women who had never ridden a hunt before. She was to go wherever -Lord George led her, and she was to ride upon his heels. So much at least -she understood, and so much she was resolved to do. That dread about her -front teeth which had perplexed her on Monday was altogether gone now. She -would ride as fast as Lucinda Roanoke. That was her prevailing idea. -Lucinda, with Mrs. Carbuncle, Sir Griffin, and the ladies' groom, was at -the other side of the covert. Frank had been with his cousin and Lord -George, but had crept down the hill while the hounds were in the gorse. A -man who likes hunting, but hunts only once a year, is desirous of doing -the best he can with his day. When the hounds came out and crossed the -brook at the end of the gorse, perhaps he was a little too forward. But, -indeed, the state of affairs did not leave much time for waiting, or for -the etiquette of the hunting-field. Along the opposite margin of the brook -there ran a low paling, which made the water a rather nasty thing to face. -A circuit of thirty or forty yards gave the easy riding of a little -bridge, and to that all the crowd hurried. But one or two men with good -eyes, and hearts as good, had seen the leading hounds across the brook -turning up the hill away from the bridge, and knew that two most necessary -minutes might be lost in the crowd. Frank did as they did, having seen -nothing of any hounds, but with instinctive knowledge that they were men -likely to be right in a hunting-field. "If that ain't Nappie's horse, I'll -eat him," said one of the leading men to the other, as all the three were -breasting the hill together. Frank only knew that he had been carried over -water and timber without a mistake, and felt a glow of gratitude toward -Mr. MacFarlane. Up the hill they went, and, not waiting to inquire into -the circumstances of a little gate, jumped a four-foot wall and were away. -"How the mischief did he get atop of Nappie's horse?" said the horsey man -to his friend. - -"We're about right for it now," said the huntsman, as he came up alongside -of Frank. He had crossed the bridge, but had been the first across it, and -knew how to get over his ground quickly. On they went, the horsey man -leading on his thoroughbred screw, the huntsman second, and Frank third. -The pace had already been too good for the other horsey man. - -When Lord George and Lizzie had mounted the hill, there was a rush of -horses at the little gate. As they topped the hill Lucinda and Mrs. -Carbuncle were jumping the wall. Lord George looked back and asked a -question without a word. Lizzie answered it as mutely, Jump it! She was -already a little short of breath, but she was ready to jump anything that -Lucinda Roanoke had jumped. Over went Lord George, and she followed him -almost without losing the stride of her horse. Surely in all the world -there was nothing equal to this. There was a large grass field before -them, and for a moment she came up alongside of Lord George. "Just steady -him before he leaps," said Lord George. She nodded her assent, and smiled -her gratitude. She had plenty of breath for riding, but none for speaking. -They were now very near to Lucinda, and Sir Griffin, and Mrs. Carbuncle. -"The pace is too good for Mrs. Carbuncle's horse," said Lord George. Oh, -if she could only pass them, and get up to those men whom she saw before -her! She knew that one of them was her cousin Frank. She had no wish to -pass them, but she did wish that he should see her. In the next fence Lord -George spied a rail, which he thought safer than a blind hedge, and he -made for it. His horse took it well, and so did Lizzie's; but Lizzie -jumped it a little too near him, as he had paused an instant to look at -the ground. - -"Indeed, I won't do it again," she said, collecting all her breath for an -apology. - -"You are going admirably," he said, "and your horse is worth double the -money." She was so glad now that he had not spared for price in mounting -her! Looking to the right, she could see that Mrs. Carbuncle had only just -floundered through the hedge. Lucinda was still ahead, but Sir Griffin was -falling behind, as though divided in duty between the niece and the aunt. -Then they passed through a gate, and Lord George stayed his horse to hold -it for her. She tried to thank him but he stopped her. "Don't mind -talking, but come along, and take it easy." She smiled again, and he told -himself that she was wondrous pretty. And then her pluck was so good! And -then she had four thousand a year! "Now for the gap; don't be in a hurry. -You first, and I'll follow you to keep off these two men. Keep to the -left, where the other horses have been." On they went, and Lizzie was in -heaven. She could not quite understand her feelings, because it had come -to that with her that to save her life she could not have spoken a word. -And yet she was not only happy but comfortable. The leaping was -delightful, and her horse galloped with her as though his pleasure was as -great as her own. She thought that she was getting nearer to Lucinda. For -her, in her heart, Lucinda was the quarry. If she could only pass Lucinda! -That there were any hounds she had altogether forgotten. She only knew -that two or three men were leading the way, of whom her cousin Frank was -one, that Lucinda Roanoke was following them closely, and that she was -gaining upon Lucinda Roanoke. She knew she was gaining a little, because -she could see now how well and squarely Lucinda sat upon her horse. As for -herself, she feared that she was rolling; but she need not have feared. -She was so small, and lithe, and light, that her body adapted itself -naturally to the pace of her horse. Lucinda was of a different build, and -it behooved her to make for herself a perfect seat. "We must have the -wall," said Lord George, who was again at her side for a moment. She would -have "had" a castle wall, moat included, turrets and all, if he would only -have shown her the way. The huntsman and Frank had taken the wall. The -horsey man's bit of blood, knowing his own powers to an inch, had -declined--not roughly, with a sudden stop and a jerk, but with a swerve to -the left which the horsey man at once understood. What the brute lacked in -jumping he could make up in pace, and the horsey man was along the wall -and over a broken bank at the head of it, with the loss of not more than a -minute. Lucinda's horse, following the ill example, balked the jump. She -turned him round with a savage gleam in her eye which Lizzie was just near -enough to see, struck him rapidly over the shoulders with her whip, and -the animal flew with her into the next field. "Oh, if I could do it like -that," thought Lizzie. But in that very minute she was doing it, not only -as well but better. Not following Lord George, but close at his side, the -little animal changed his pace, trotted for a yard or two, hopped up as -though the wall were nothing, knocked off a top stone with his hind feet, -and dropped on the ground so softly that Lizzie hardly believed that she -had gone over the big obstruction that had cost Lucinda such an effort. -Lucinda's horse came down on all four legs, with a grunt and a groan, and -she knew that she had bustled him. At that moment Lucinda was very full of -wrath against the horsey man with the screw who had been in her way. "He -touched it," gasped Lizzie, thinking that her horse had disgraced himself. - -"He's worth his weight in gold," said Lord George. "Come along. There's a -brook with a ford. Morgan is in it." Morgan was the huntsman. "Don't let -them get before you." Oh, no. She would let no one get before her. She did -her very best, and just got her horse's nose on the broken track leading -down into the brook before Lucinda. - -"Pretty good, isn't it?" said Lucinda. Lizzie smiled sweetly. She could -smile, though she could not speak. - -"Only they do balk one so at one's fences," said Lucinda. The horsey man -had all but regained his place, and was immediately behind Lucinda, within -hearing, as Lucinda knew. - -On the further side of the field, beyond the brook, there was a little -spinny, and for half a minute the hounds came to a check. "Give 'em time, -sir, give 'em time," said Morgan to Frank, speaking in full good humour, -with no touch of Monday's savagery. "Wind him, Bolton; Beaver's got it. -Very good thing, my lady, isn't it? Now, Carstairs, if you're a--going to -'unt the fox you'd better 'unt him." Carstairs was the horsey man, and one -with whom Morgan very often quarrelled. "That's it, my hearties," and -Morgan was across a broken wall in a moment, after the leading hounds. - -"Are we to go on?" said Lizzie, who feared much that Lucinda would get -ahead of her. There was a matter of three dozen horsemen up now, and, as -far as Lizzie saw, the whole thing might have to be done again. In -hunting, to have ridden is the pleasure; and not simply to have ridden -well, but to have ridden better than others. - -"I call it very awkward ground," said Mrs. Carbuncle, coming up. "It can't -be compared to the Baron's country." - -"Stone walls four feet and a half high, and well built, are awkward," said -the noble master. - -But the hounds were away again, and Lizzie had got across the gap before -Lucinda, who, indeed, made way for her hostess with a haughty politeness -which was not lost upon Lizzie. Lizzie could not stop to beg pardon, but -she would remember to do it in her prettiest way on their journey home. -They were now on a track of open country, and the pace was quicker even -than before. The same three men were still leading, Morgan, Greystock, and -Carstairs. Carstairs had slightly the best of it; and of course Morgan -swore afterwards that he was among the hounds the whole run. "The scent -was that good there wasn't no putting of 'em off; no thanks to him," said -Morgan. "I 'ate to see 'em galloping, galloping, galloping, with no more -eye to the 'ounds than a pig. Any idiot can gallop if he's got it under -'im." All which only signified that Jack Morgan didn't like to see any of -his field before him. There was need, indeed, now for galloping, and it -may be doubted whether Morgan himself was not doing his best. There were -about five or six in the second fight, and among these Lord George and -Lizzie were well placed. But Lucinda had pressed again ahead. - -"Miss Roanoke had better have a care or she'll blow her horse," Lord -George said. Lizzie didn't mind what happened to Miss Roanoke's horse so -that it could be made to go a little slower and fall behind. But Lucinda -still pressed on, and her animal went with a longer stride than Lizzie's -horse. - -They now crossed a road, descending a hill, and were again in a close -country. A few low hedges seemed as nothing to Lizzie. She could see her -cousin gallop over them ahead of her, as though they were nothing; and her -own horse, as he came to them, seemed to do exactly the same. On a sudden -they found themselves abreast with the huntsman. - -"There's a biggish brook below there, my lord," said he. Lizzie was -charmed to hear it. Hitherto she had jumped all the big things so easily, -that it was a pleasure to hear of them. - -"How are we to manage it?" asked Lord George. - -"It is ridable, my lord; but there's a place about half a mile down. Let's -see how'll they head. Drat it, my lord, they've turned up, and we must -have it or go back to the road." Morgan hurried on, showing that he meant -to "have" it, as did also Lucinda. - -"Shall we go to the road?" said Lord George. - -"No, no!" said Lizzie. - -Lord George looked at her and at her horse, and then galloped after the -huntsman and Lucinda. The horsey man with the well-bred screw was first -over the brook. The little animal could take almost any amount of water, -and his rider knew the spot. "He'll do it like a bird," he had said to -Greystock, and Greystock had followed him. Mr. MacFarlane's hired horse -did do it like a bird. - -"I know him, sir," said Carstairs. "Mr. Nappie gave £250 for him down in -Northamptonshire last February; bought him of Mr. Percival. You know Mr. -Percival, sir?" Frank knew neither Mr. Percival nor Mr. Nappie, and at -this moment cared nothing for either of them. To him, at this moment, Mr. -MacFarlane, of Buchanan Street, Glasgow, was the best friend he ever had. - -Morgan, knowing well the horse he rode, dropped him into the brook, -floundered and half swam through the mud and water, and scrambled out -safely on the other side. "He wouldn't have jumped it with me, if I'd -asked him ever so," he said afterwards. Lucinda rode at it, straight as an -arrow, but her brute came to a dead balk, and, but that she sat well, -would have thrown her into the stream. Lord George let Lizzie take the -leap before he took it, knowing that, if there were misfortune, he might -so best render help. To Lizzie it seemed as though the river were the -blackest, and the deepest, and the broadest that ever ran. For a moment -her heart quailed; but it was but for a moment. She shut her eyes, and -gave the little horse his head. For a moment she thought that she was in -the water. Her horse was almost upright on the bank, with his hind feet -down among the broken ground, and she was clinging to his neck. But she -was light, and the beast made good his footing, and then she knew that she -had done it. In that moment of the scramble her heart had been so near her -mouth that she was almost choked. When she looked round Lord George was -already by her side. - -"You hardly gave him powder enough," he said, "but still he did it -beautifully. Good heavens! Miss Roanoke is in the river." Lizzie looked -back, and there, in truth, was Lucinda struggling with her horse in the -water. They paused a moment, and then there were three or four men -assisting her. "Come on," said Lord George. "There are plenty to take her -out, and we couldn't get to her if we stayed." - -"I ought to stop," said Lizzie. - -"You couldn't get back if you gave your eyes for it," said Lord George. -"She's all right." So instigated, Lizzie followed her leader up the hill, -and in a minute was close upon Morgan's heels. - -The worst of doing a big thing out hunting is the fact that in nine cases -out of ten they who don't do it are as well off as they who do. If there -were any penalty for riding round, or any mark given to those who had -ridden straight, so that justice might in some sort be done, it would -perhaps be better. When you have nearly broken your neck to get to hounds, -or made your horse exert himself beyond his proper power, and then find -yourself, within three minutes, overtaking the hindmost ruck of horsemen -on a road because of some iniquitous turn that the fox had taken, the -feeling is not pleasant. And some man who has not ridden at all, who never -did ride at all, will ask you where you have been; and his smile will give -you the lie in your teeth, if you make any attempt to explain the facts. -Let it be sufficient for you at such a moment to feel that you are not -ashamed of yourself. Self-respect will support a man even in such misery -as this. - -The fox on this occasion, having crossed the river, had not left its bank, -but had turned from his course up the stream, so that the leading spirits -who had followed the hounds over the water came upon a crowd of riders on -the road in a space something short of a mile. Mrs. Carbuncle, among -others, was there, and had heard of Lucinda's mishap. She said a word to -Lord George in anger, and Lord George answered her. "We were over the -river before it happened, and if we had given our eyes we couldn't have -got to her. Don't you make a fool of yourself!" The last words were spoken -in a whisper, but Lizzie's sharp ears caught them. - -"I was obliged to do what I was told," said Lizzie apologetically. - -"It will be all right, dear Lady Eustace. Sir Griffin is with her. I am so -glad you are going so well." - -They were off again now, and the stupid fox absolutely went back across -the river. But, whether on one side or on the other, his struggle for life -was now in vain. Two years of happy, free existence amid the wilds of -Craigattan had been allowed him. Twice previously had he been "found," and -the kindly storm or not less beneficent brightness of the sun had enabled -him to baffle his pursuers. Now there had come one glorious day, and the -common lot of mortals must be his. A little spurt there was, back towards -his own home, just enough to give something of selectness to the few who -saw him fall, and then he fell. Among the few were Frank and Lord George -and our Lizzie. Morgan was there, of course, and one of his whips. Of -Ayrshire folk, perhaps five or six, and among them our friend Mr. -Carstairs. They had run him down close to the outbuildings of a farmyard, -and they broke him up in the home paddock. - -"What do you think of hunting?" said Frank to his cousin. - -"It's divine." - -"My cousin went pretty well, I think," he said to Lord George. - -"Like a celestial bird of paradise. No one ever went better--or I believe -so well. You've been carried rather nicely yourself." - -"Indeed I have," said Frank, patting his still palpitating horse, "and -he's not to say tired now." - -"You've taken it pretty well out of him, sir," said Carstairs. "There was -a little bit of hill that told when we got over the brook. I know'd you'd -find he'd jump a bit." - -"I wonder whether he's to be bought?" asked Frank in his enthusiasm. - -"I don't know the horse that isn't," said Mr. Carstairs, "so long as you -don't stand at the figure." - -They were collected on the farm road, and now, as they were speaking, -there was a commotion among the horses. A man driving a little buggy was -forcing his way along the road, and there was a sound of voices, as though -the man in the buggy were angry. And he was angry. Frank, who was on foot -by his horse's head, could see that the man was dressed for hunting, with -a bright red coat and a flat hat, and that he was driving the pony with a -hunting-whip. The man was talking as he approached, but what he said did -not much matter to Frank, till his new friend, Mr. Carstairs, whispered a -word in his ear. "It's Nappie, by Gum!" Then there crept across Frank's -mind an idea that there might be trouble coming. - -"There he is," said Nappie, bringing his pony to a dead stop with a chuck, -and jumping out of the buggy. "I say you, sir; you've stole my 'orse." -Frank said not a word, but stood his ground with his hand on the nag's -bridle. "You've stole my 'orse; you've stole him off the rail. And you've -been a-riding him all day. Yes, you 'ave. Did ever anybody see the like of -this? Why, the poor beast can a'most stand." - -"I got him from Mr. MacFarlane." - -"MacFarlane be blowed. You didn't do nothing of the kind. You stole him -off the rail at Stewarton. Yes, you did; and him booked to Kilmarnock. -Where's a police? Who's to stand the like o' this? I say, my lord, just -look at this." A crowd had now been formed round poor Frank, and the -master had come up. Mr. Nappie was a Huddersfield man, who had come to -Glasgow in the course of the last winter, and whose popularity in the -hunting-field was not as yet quite so great as perhaps it might have been. - -"There's been a mistake, I suppose," said the master. - -"Mistake, my lord! Take a man's 'orse off the rail at Stewarton, and him -booked for Kilmarnock, and ride him to a standstill! It's no mistake at -all. It's 'orse-nobbling; that's what it is. Is there any police here, -sir?" This he said, turning round to a farmer. The farmer didn't deign any -reply. "Perhaps you'll tell me your name, sir? if you've got a name. No -gen'leman ever took a gen'leman's 'orse off the rail like that." - -"Oh, Frank, do come away," said Lizzie who was standing by. - -"We shall be all right in two minutes," said Frank. - -"No we sha'n't," said Mr. Nappie, "nor yet in two hours. I've asked what's -your name?" - -"My name is--Greystock." - -"Greystockings," said Mr. Nappie more angrily than ever. "I don't believe -in no such name. Where do you live?" Then somebody whispered a word to -him. "Member of Parliament--is he? I don't care a----. A member of -Parliament isn't to steal my 'orse off the rail, and him booked to -Kilmarnock. Now, my lord, what'd you do if you was served like that?" This -was another appeal to the noble master. - -"I should express a hope that my horse had carried the gentleman as he -liked to be carried," said the master. - -"And he has--carried me remarkably well," said Frank; whereupon there was -a loud laugh among the crowd. - -"I wish he'd broken the infernal neck of you, you scoundrel, you; that's -what I do," said Mr. Nappie. "There was my man, and my 'orse, and myself, -all booked from Glasgow to Kilmarnock; and when I got there what did the -guard say to me? why, just that a man in a black coat had taken my horse -off at Stewarton; and now I've been driving all about the country in that -gig there for three hours!" When Mr. Nappie had got so far as this in his -explanation he was almost in tears. "I'll make 'im pay, that I will. Take -your hand off my horse's bridle, sir. Is there any gentleman here as would -like to give two hundred and eighty guineas for a horse, and then have him -rid to a standstill by a fellow like that down from London? If you're in -Parliament, why don't you stick to Parliament? I don't suppose he's worth -fifty pound this moment." - -Frank had all the while been endeavouring to explain the accident; how he -had ordered a horse from Mr. MacFarlane, and the rest of it--as the reader -will understand; but quite in vain. Mr. Nappie in his wrath would not hear -a word. But now that he spoke about money Frank thought that he saw an -opening. - -"Mr. Nappie," he said, "I'll buy the horse for the price you gave for -him." - -"I'll see you--extremely well--first," said Mr. Nappie. - -The horse had now been surrendered to Mr. Nappie, and Frank suggested that -he might as well return to Kilmarnock in the gig, and pay for the hire of -it. But Mr. Nappie would not allow him to set a foot upon the gig. "It's -my gig for the day," said he, "and you don't touch it. You shall foot it -all the way back to Kilmarnock, Mr. Greystockings." But Mr. Nappie, in -making this threat, forgot that there were gentlemen there with second -horses. Frank was soon mounted on one belonging to Lord George, and Lord -George's servant, at the corner of the farm-yard, got into the buggy, and -was driven back to Kilmarnock by the man who had accompanied poor Mr. -Nappie in their morning's hunt on wheels after the hounds. - -"Upon my word, I was very sorry," said Frank as he rode back with his -friends to Kilmarnock; "and when I first really understood what had -happened, I would have done anything. But what could I say? It was -impossible not to laugh, he was so unreasonable." - -"I should have put my whip over his shoulder," said a stout farmer, -meaning to be civil to Frank Greystock. - -"Not after using it so often over his horse," said Lord George. - -"I never had to touch him once," said Frank. - -"And are you to have it all for nothing?" asked the thoughtful Lizzie. - -"He'll send a bill in, you'll find," said a bystander. - -"Not he," said Lord George. "His grievance is worth more to him than his -money." - -No bill did come to Frank, and he got his mount for nothing. When Mr. -MacFarlane was applied to, he declared that no letter ordering a horse had -been delivered in his establishment. From that day to this Mr. Nappie's -gray horse has had a great character in Ayrshire; but all the world there -says that its owner never rides him as Frank Greystock rode him that day. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -SIR GRIFFIN TAKES AN UNFAIR ADVANTAGE - - -We must return to the unfortunate Lucinda, whom we last saw struggling -with her steed in the black waters of the brook which she attempted to -jump. A couple of men were soon in after her, and she was rescued and -brought back to the side from which she had been taken off without any -great difficulty. She was neither hurt nor frightened, but she was wet -through; and for a while she was very unhappy, because it was not found -quite easy to extricate her horse. During the ten minutes of her agony, -while the poor brute was floundering in the mud, she had been quite -disregardful of herself, and had almost seemed to think that Sir Griffin, -who was with her, should go into the water after her steed. But there were -already two men in the water and three on the bank, and Sir Griffin -thought that duty required him to stay by the young lady's side. "I don't -care a bit about myself," said Lucinda, "but if anything can be done for -poor Warrior?" Sir Griffin assured her that "poor Warrior" was receiving -the very best attention; and then he pressed upon her the dangerous -condition in which she herself was standing, quite wet through, covered as -to her feet and legs with mud, growing colder and colder every minute. She -touched her lips with a little brandy that somebody gave her, and then -declared again that she cared for nothing but poor Warrior. At last poor -Warrior was on his legs, with the water dripping from his black flanks, -with his nose stained with mud, with one of his legs a little cut, and -alas! with the saddle wet through. Nevertheless, there was nothing to be -done better than to ride into Kilmarnock. The whole party must return to -Kilmarnock, and, perhaps, if they hurried, she might be able to get her -clothes dry before they would start by the train. Sir Griffin, of course, -accompanied her, and they two rode into the town alone. Mrs. Carbuncle did -hear of the accident soon after the occurrence, but had not seen her -niece; nor when she heard of it, could she have joined Lucinda. - -If anything would make a girl talk to a man, such a ducking as Lucinda had -had would do so. Such sudden events, when they come in the shape of -misfortune, or the reverse, generally have the effect of abolishing -shyness for the time. Let a girl be upset with you in a railway train, and -she will talk like a Rosalind, though before the accident she was as mute -as death. But with Lucinda Roanoke the accustomed change did not seem to -take place. When Sir Griffin had placed her on her sad lie, she would have -trotted all--the way into Kilmarnock without a word if he would have -allowed her. But he, at least, understood that such a joint misfortune -should create confidence, for he, too, had lost the run, and he did not -intend to lose his opportunity also. "I am so glad that I was near you," -he said. - -"Oh, thank you, yes; it would have been bad to be alone." - -"I mean that I am glad that it was I," said Sir Griffin. "It's very hard -even to get a moment to speak to you." They were now trotting along on the -road, and there was still three miles before them. - -"I don't know," said she. "I'm always with the other people." - -"Just so." And then he paused. "But I want to find you when you're not -with the other people. Perhaps, however, you don't like me." - -As he paused for a reply, she felt herself bound to say something. "Oh, -yes, I do," she said, "as well as anybody else." - -"And is that all?" - -"I suppose so." - -After that he rode on for the best part of another mile before he spoke to -her again. He had made up his mind that he would do it. He hardly knew why -it was that he wanted her. He had not determined that he was desirous of -the charms or comfort of domestic life. He had not even thought where he -would live were he married. He had not suggested to himself that Lucinda -was a desirable companion, that her temper would suit his, that her ways -and his were sympathetic, or that she would be a good mother to the future -Sir Griffin Tewett. He had seen that she was a very handsome girl, and -therefore he had thought that he would like to possess her. Had she fallen -like a ripe plum into his mouth, or shown herself ready so to fall, he -would probably have closed his lips and backed out of the affair. But the -difficulty no doubt added something to the desire. "I had hoped," he said, -"that after knowing each other so long there might have been more than -that." - -She was again driven to speak because he paused. "I don't know that that -makes much difference." - -"Miss Roanoke, you can't but understand what I mean." - -"I'm sure I don't," said she. - -"Then I'll speak plainer." - -"Not now, Sir Griffin, because I'm so wet." - -"You can listen to me even if you will not answer me. I am sure that you -know that I love you better than all the world. Will you be mine?" Then he -moved on a little forward so that he might look back into her face. "Will -you allow me to think of you as my future wife?" - -Miss Roanoke was able to ride at a stone wall or at a river, and to ride -at either the second time when her horse balked the first. Her heart was -big enough to enable her to give Sir Griffin an answer. Perhaps it was -that, in regard to the river and the stone wall, she knew what she wanted; -but that, as to Sir Griffin, she did not. "I don't think this is a proper -time to ask," she said. - -"Why not?" - -"Because I am wet through and cold. It is taking an unfair advantage." - -"I didn't mean to take any unfair advantage," said Sir Griffin scowling; -"I thought we were alone----" - -"Oh, Sir Griffin, I am so tired!" As they were now entering Kilmarnock, it -was quite clear that he could press her no further. They clattered up, -therefore, to the hotel, and he busied himself in getting a bedroom fire -lighted, and in obtaining the services of the landlady. A cup of tea was -ordered, and toast, and in two minutes Lucinda Roanoke was relieved from -the presence of the baronet. - -"It's a kind of thing a fellow doesn't quite understand," said Sir Griffin -to himself. "Of course she means it, and why the devil can't she say so?" -He had no idea of giving up the chase, but he thought that perhaps he -would take it out of her when she became Lady Tewett. - -They were an hour at the inn before Mrs. Carbuncle and Lady Eustace -arrived, and during that hour Sir Griffin did not see Miss Roanoke. For -this there was, of course, ample reason. Under the custody of the -landlady, Miss Roanoke was being made dry and clean, and was by no means -in a condition to receive a lover's vows. The baronet sent up half a dozen -messages as he sauntered about the yard of the inn, but he got no message -in return. Lucinda, as she sat drinking her tea and drying her clothes, -did no doubt think about him, but she thought about him as little as she -could. Of course he would come again, and she could make up her mind then. -It was no doubt necessary that she should do something. Her fortune, such -as it was, would soon be spent in the adventure of finding a husband. She -also had her ideas about love, and had enough of sincerity about her to -love a man thoroughly; but it had seemed to her that all the men who came -near her were men whom she could not fail to dislike. She was hurried here -and hurried there, and knew nothing of real social intimacies. As she told -her aunt in her wickedness, she would almost have preferred a shoemaker, -if she could have become acquainted with a shoemaker in a manner that -should be unforced and genuine. There was a savageness of antipathy in her -to the mode of life which her circumstances had produced for her. It was -that very savageness which made her ride so hard, and which forbade her to -smile and be pleasant to people whom she could not like. And yet she knew -that something must be done. She could not afford to wait as other girls -might do. Why not Sir Griffin as well as any other fool? It may be doubted -whether she knew how obstinate, how hard, how cruel to a woman a fool can -be. - -Her stockings had been washed and dried, and her boots and trousers were -nearly dry, when Mrs. Carbuncle, followed by Lizzie, rushed into the room. -"Oh, my darling, how are you?" said the aunt, seizing her niece in her -arms. - -"I'm only dirty now," said Lucinda. - -"We've got off the biggest of the muck, my lady," said the landlady. - -"Oh, Miss Roanoke," said Lizzie, "I hope you don't think I behaved badly -in going on." - -"Everybody always goes on, of course," said Lucinda. - -"I did so pray Lord George to let me try and jump back to you. We were -over, you know, before it happened. But he said it was quite impossible. -We did wait till we saw you were out." - -"It didn't signify at all, Lady Eustace." - -"And I was so sorry when I went through the wall at the corner of the wood -before you. But I was so excited I hardly knew what I was doing." Lucinda, -who was quite used to these affairs in the hunting-field, simply nodded -her acceptance of this apology. "But it was a glorious run, wasn't it?" - -"Pretty well," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Oh, it was glorious; but then I got over the river. And, oh, if you had -been there afterwards. There was such an adventure between a man in a gig -and my cousin Frank." Then they all went to the train, and were carried -home to Portray. - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -YOU ARE NOT ANGRY - - -On their journey back to Portray, the ladies were almost too tired for -talking, and Sir Griffin was sulky. Sir Griffin had as yet heard nothing -about Greystock's adventure, and did not care to be told. But when once -they were at the castle, and had taken warm baths and glasses of sherry, -and got themselves dressed and had come down to dinner, they were all very -happy. To Lizzie it had certainly been the most triumphant day of her -life. Her marriage with Sir Florian had been triumphant, but that was only -a step to something good that was to come after. She then had at her own -disposal her little wits and her prettiness, and a world before her in -which, as it then seemed to her, there was a deal of pleasure if she could -only reach it. Up to this period of her career she had hardly reached any -pleasure; but this day had been very pleasant. Lord George de Bruce -Carruthers had in truth been her Corsair, and she had found the thing -which she liked to do, and would soon know how to do. How glorious it was -to jump over that black, yawning stream, and then to see Lucinda fall into -it! And she could remember every jump, and her feeling of ecstasy as she -landed on the right side. And she had by heart every kind word that Lord -George had said to her--and she loved the sweet, pleasant, Corsair--like -intimacy that had sprung up between them. She wondered whether Frank was -at all jealous. It wouldn't be amiss that he should be a little jealous. -And then somebody had brought home in his pocket the fox's brush, which -the master of the hounds had told the huntsman to give her. It was all -delightful; and so much more delightful because Mrs. Carbuncle had not -gone quite so well as she liked to go, and because Lucinda had fallen into -the water. - -They did not dine till past eight, and the ladies and gentlemen all left -the room together. Coffee and liqueurs were to be brought into the -drawing-room, and they were all to be intimate, comfortable, and at their -ease; all except Sir Griffin Tewett, who was still very sulky. - -"Did he say anything?" Mrs. Carbuncle had asked. - -"Yes." - -"Well." - -"He proposed; but of course I could not answer him when I was wet -through." There had been but a moment, and in that moment this was all -that Lucinda would say. - -"Now I don't mean to stir again," said Lizzie, throwing herself into a -corner of a sofa, "till somebody carries me to bed. I never was so tired -in all my life." She was tired, but there is a fatigue which is delightful -as long as all the surroundings are pleasant and comfortable. - -"I didn't call it a very hard day," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"You only killed one fox," said Mr. Mealyus, pretending a delightfully -clerical ignorance, "and on Monday you killed four. Why should you be -tired?" - -"I suppose it was nearly twenty miles," said Frank, who was also ignorant. - -"About ten, perhaps," said Lord George. "It was an hour and forty minutes, -and there was a good bit of slow hunting after we had come back over the -river." - -"I'm sure it was thirty," said Lizzie, forgetting her fatigue in her -energy. - -"Ten is always better than twenty," said Lord George, "and five generally -better than ten." - -"It was just whatever is best," said Lizzie. "I know Frank's friend, Mr. -Nappie, said it was twenty. By-the-by, oughtn't we to have asked Mr. -Nappie home to dinner?" - -"I thought so," said Frank; "but I couldn't take the liberty myself." - -"I really think poor Mr. Nappie was very badly used," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Of course he was," said Lord George; "no man ever worse since hunting was -invented. He was entitled to a dozen dinners and no end of patronage; but -you see he took it out in calling your cousin Mr. Greystockings." - -"I felt that blow," said Frank. - -"I shall always call you Cousin Greystockings," said Lizzie. - -"It was hard," continued Lord George, "and I understood it all so well -when he got into a mess in his wrath about booking the horse to -Kilmarnock. If the horse had been on the roadside, he or his men could -have protected him. He is put under the protection of a whole railway -company, and the company gives him up to the first fellow that comes and -asks for him." - -"It was cruel," said Frank. - -"If it had happened to me, I should have been very angry," said Mrs. -Carbuncle. - -"But Frank wouldn't have had a horse at all," said Lizzie, "unless he had -taken Mr. Nappie's." - -Lord George still continued his plea for Mr. Nappie. "There's something in -that certainly; but, still, I agree with Mrs. Carbuncle. If it had -happened to me, I should--just have committed murder and suicide. I can't -conceive anything so terrible. It's all very well for your noble master to -talk of being civil, and hoping that the horse had carried him well, and -all that. There are circumstances in which a man can't be civil. And then -everybody laughed at him! It's the way of the world. The lower you fall, -the more you're kicked." - -"What can I do for him?" asked Frank. - -"Put him down at your club and order thirty dozen of gray shirtings from -Nappie & Co., without naming the price." - -"He'd send you gray stockings instead," said Lizzie. - -But though Lizzie was in heaven, it behooved her to be careful. The -Corsair was a very fine specimen of the Corsair breed, about the best -Corsair she had ever seen, and had been devoted to her for the day. But -these Corsairs are known to be dangerous, and it would not be wise that -she should sacrifice any future prospect of importance on behalf of a -feeling, which, no doubt, was founded on poetry, but which might too -probably have no possible beneficial result. As far as she knew, the -Corsair had not even an island of his own in the Aegean Sea. And, if he -had, might not the island too probably have a Medora or two of its own? In -a ride across the country the Corsair was all that a Corsair should be; -but knowing, as she did, but very little of the Corsair, she could not -afford to throw over her cousin for his sake. As she was leaving the -drawing-room she managed to say one word to her cousin. "You were not -angry with me because I got Lord George to ride with me instead of you?" - -"Angry with you?" - -"I knew I should only be a hindrance to you." - -"It was a matter of course. He knows all about it, and I know nothing. I -am very glad that you liked it so much." - -"I did like it; and so did you. I was so glad you got that poor man's -horse. You were not angry then?" They had now passed across the hall, and -were on the bottom stair. - -"Certainly not." - -"And you are not angry for what happened before?" She did not look into -his face as she asked this question, but stood with her eyes fixed on the -stair-carpet. - -"Indeed no." - -"Good night, Frank." - -"Good night, Lizzie." Then she went, and he returned to a room below which -had been prepared for purposes of tobacco and soda-water and brandy. - -"Why, Griff, you're rather out of sorts to-night," said Lord George to his -friend, before Frank had joined them. - -"So would you be out of sorts if you'd lost your run and had to pick a -young woman out of the water. I don't like young women when they're damp -and smell of mud." - -"You mean to marry her, I suppose." - -"How would you like me to ask you questions? Do you mean to marry the -widow? And, if you do, what'll Mrs. Carbuncle say? And if you don't, what -do you mean to do; and all the rest of it?" - -"As for marrying the widow, I should like to know the facts first. As to -Mrs. C., she wouldn't object in the least. I generally have my horses so -bitted that they can't very well object. And as to the other question, I -mean to stay here for the next fortnight, and I advise you to make it -square with Miss Roanoke. Here's my lady's cousin; for a man who doesn't -ride often, he went very well to-day." - -"I wonder if he'd take a twenty-pound note if I sent it to him," said -Frank, when they broke up for the night. "I don't like the idea of riding -such a fellow's horse for nothing." - -"He'll bring an action against the railway, and then you can offer to pay -if you like." Mr. Nappie did bring an action against the railway, claiming -exorbitant damages; but with what result, we need not trouble ourselves to -inquire. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - -LIKEWISE THE BEARS IN COUPLES AGREE - - -Frank Greystock stayed till the following Monday at Portray, but could not -be induced to hunt on the Saturday, on which day the other sporting men -and women went to the meet. He could not, he said, trust to that traitor -MacFarlane, and he feared that his friend Mr. Nappie would not give him -another mount on the grey horse. Lizzie offered him one of her two -darlings, an offer which he, of course, refused; and Lord George also -proposed to put him up. But Frank averred that he had ridden his hunt for -that season, and would not jeopardise the laurels he had gained. "And -moreover," said he, "I should not dare to meet Mr. Nappie in the field." -So he remained at the castle and took a walk with Mr. Mealyus. Mr. Mealyus -asked a good many questions about Portray, and exhibited the warmest -sympathy with Lizzie's widowed condition. He called her a "sweet, gay, -unsophisticated, light-hearted young thing." - -"She is very young," replied her cousin. "Yes," he continued, in answer to -further questions; "Portray is certainly very nice. I don't know what the -income is. Well, yes. I should think it is over a thousand. Eight! No, I -never heard it said that it was as much as that." When Mr. Mealyus put it -down in his mind as five, he was not void of acuteness, as very little -information had been given to him. - -There was a joke throughout the castle that Mr. Mealyus had fallen in love -with Miss Macnulty. They had been a great deal together on those hunting -days; and Miss Macnulty was unusually enthusiastic in praise of his manner -and conversation. To her, also, had been addressed questions as to Portray -and its income, all of which she had answered to the best of her ability; -not intending to betray any secret, for she had no secret to betray; but -giving ordinary information on that commonest of all subjects, our -friends' incomes. Then there had risen a question whether there was a -vacancy for such promotion to Miss Macnulty. Mrs. Carbuncle had certainly -heard that there was a Mrs. Emilius. Lucinda was sure that there was not, -an assurance which might have been derived from a certain eagerness in the -reverend gentleman's demeanour to herself on a former occasion. To Lizzie, -who at present was very good-natured, the idea of Miss Macnulty having a -lover, whether he were a married man or not, was very delightful. "I'm -sure I don't know what you mean," said Miss Macnulty. "I don't suppose Mr. -Emilius had any idea of the kind." Upon the whole, however, Miss Macnulty -liked it. - -On the Saturday nothing especial happened. Mr. Nappie was out on his gray -horse, and condescended to a little conversation with Lord George. He -wouldn't have minded, he said, if Mr. Greystock had come forward; but he -did think Mr. Greystock hadn't come forward as he ought to have done. Lord -George professed that he had observed the same thing; but then, as he -whispered into Mr. Nappie's ear, Mr. Greystock was particularly known as a -bashful man. "He didn't ride my 'orse anyway bashful," said Mr. Nappie-- -all of which was told at dinner in the evening amidst a great deal of -laughter. There had been nothing special in the way of sport, and Lizzie's -enthusiasm for hunting, though still high, had gone down a few degrees -below fever heat. Lord George had again coached her; but there had been no -great need for coaching, no losing of her breath, no cutting down of -Lucinda, no river, no big wall--nothing, in short, very fast. They had -been much in a big wood; but 'Lizzie, in giving an account of the day to -her cousin, had acknowledged that she had not quite understood what they -were doing at any time. - -"It was a-blowing of horns and a-galloping up and down all the day," she -said; "and then Morgan got cross again and scolded all the people. But -there was one nice paling, and Dandy flew over it beautifully. Two men -tumbled down, and one of them was a good deal hurt. It was very jolly--but -not at all like Wednesday." - -Nor had it been like Wednesday to Lucinda Roanoke, who did not fall into -the water, and who did accept Sir Griffin when he again proposed to her in -Sarkie Wood. A great deal had been said to Lucinda on the Thursday and the -Friday by Mrs. Carbuncle--which had not been taken at all in good part by -Lucinda. On those days Lucinda kept as much as she could out of Sir -Griffin's way, and almost snapped at the baronet when he spoke to her. Sir -Griffin swore to himself that he wasn't going to be treated that way. He'd -have her, by George! There are men in whose love a good deal of hatred is -mixed--who love as the huntsman loves the fox, towards the killing of -which he intends to use all his energies and intellects. Mrs. Carbuncle, -who did not quite understand the sort of persistency by which a Sir -Griffin can be possessed, feared greatly that Lucinda was about to lose -her prize, and spoke out accordingly. - -"Will you, then, just have the kindness to tell me what it is you propose -to yourself?" asked Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I don't propose anything." - -"And where will you go when your money's done?" - -"Just where I am going now," said Lucinda. By which it may be feared that -she indicated a place to which she should not on such an occasion have -made an allusion. - -"You don't like anybody else?" suggested Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I don't like anybody or anything," said Lucinda. - -"Yes, you do--you like horses to ride, and dresses to wear." - -"No, I don't. I like hunting because, perhaps, some day I may break my -neck. It's no use your looking like that, Aunt Jane. I know what it all -means. If I could break my neck it would be the best thing for me." - -"You'll break my heart, Lucinda." - -"Mine's broken long ago." - -"If you'll accept Sir Griffin, and just get a home round yourself, you'll -find that everything will be happy. It all comes from the dreadful -uncertainty. Do you think I have suffered nothing? Carbuncle is always -threatening that he'll go back to New York; and as for Lord George, he -treats me that way I'm sometimes afraid to show my face." - -"Why should you care for Lord George?" - -"It's all very well to say, why should I care for him. I don't care for -him, only one doesn't want to quarrel with one's friends. Carbuncle says -he owes him money." - -"I don't believe it," said Lucinda. - -"And he says Carbuncle owes him money." - -"I do believe that," said Lucinda. - -"Between it all, I don't know which way to be turning. And now, when -there's this great opening for you, you won't know your own mind." - -"I know my mind well enough." - -"I tell you you'll never have such another chance. Good looks isn't -everything. You've never a word to say to anybody; and when a man does -come near you, you're as savage and cross as a bear." - -"Go on, Aunt Jane." - -"What with your hatings and dislikings, one would suppose you didn't think -God Almighty made men at all." - -"He made some of 'em very bad," said Lucinda. "As for some others, they're -only half made. What can Sir Griffin do, do you suppose?" - -"He's a gentleman." - -"Then if I were a man, I should wish not to be a gentleman; that's all. -I'd a deal sooner marry a man like that huntsman, who has something to do -and knows how to do it." Again she said, "Don't worry any more, Aunt Jane. -It doesn't do any good. It seems to me that to make myself Sir Griffin's -wife would be impossible; but I'm sure your talking won't do it." Then her -aunt left her, and, having met Lord George, at his bidding went and made -civil speeches to Lizzie Eustace. - -That was on the Friday afternoon. On the Saturday afternoon Sir Griffin, -biding his time, found himself, in a ride with Lucinda, sufficiently far -from other horsemen for his purpose. He wasn't going to stand any more -nonsense. He was entitled to an answer, and he knew that he was entitled, -by his rank and position, to a favourable answer. Here was a girl who, as -far as he knew, was without a shilling, of whose birth and parentage -nobody knew anything, who had nothing but her beauty to recommend her-- -nothing but that and a certain capacity for carrying herself in the world -as he thought ladies should carry themselves; and she was to give herself -airs with him, and expect him to propose to her half a dozen times! By -George! he had a very good mind to go away and let her find out her -mistake. And he would have done so--only that he was a man who always -liked to have all that he wanted. It was intolerable to him that anybody -should refuse him anything. "Miss Roanoke," he said; and then he paused. - -"Sir Griffin," said Lucinda, bowing her head. - -"Perhaps you will condescend to remember what I had the honour of saying -to you as we rode into Kilmarnock last Wednesday." - -"I had just been dragged out of a river, Sir Griffin, and I don't think -any girl ought to be asked to remember what was said to her in that -condition." - -"If I say it again now, will you remember?" - -"I cannot promise, Sir Griffin." - -"Will you give me an answer?" - -"That must depend." - -"Come, I will have an answer. When a man tells a lady that he admires her, -and asks her to be his wife, he has a right to an answer. Don't you think -that in such circumstances a man has a right to expect an answer?" - -Lucinda hesitated for a moment, and he was beginning again to remonstrate -impatiently, when she altered her tone, and replied to him seriously: "In -such circumstances a gentleman has a right to expect an answer." - -"Then give me one. I admire you above all the world, and I ask you to be -my wife. I'm quite in earnest." - -"I know that you are in earnest, Sir Griffin. I would do neither you nor -myself the wrong of supposing that it could be otherwise." - -"Very well then. Will you accept the offer that I make you?" - -Again she paused. "You have a right to an answer, of course; but it may be -so difficult to give it. It seems to me that you have hardly realised how -serious a question it is." - -"Haven't I though? By George, it is serious." - -"Will it not be better for you to think it over again?" - -He now hesitated for a moment. Perhaps it might be better. Should she take -him at his word there would be no going back from it. But Lord George knew -that he had proposed before. Lord George had learned this from Mrs. -Carbuncle, and had shown that he knew it. And then, too, he had made up -his mind about it. He wanted her, and he meant to have her. "It requires -no more thinking with me, Lucinda. I'm not a man who does things without -thinking; and when I have thought I don't want to think again. There's my -hand--will you have it?" - -"I will," said Lucinda, putting her hand into his. He no sooner felt her -assurance than his mind misgave him that he had been precipitate, that he -had been rash, and that she had taken advantage of him. After all, how -many things are there in the world more precious than a handsome girl. And -she had never told him that she loved him. - -"I suppose you love me?" he asked. - -"H'sh; here they all are." The hand was withdrawn, but not before both -Mrs. Carbuncle and Lady Eustace had seen it. - -Mrs. Carbuncle, in her great anxiety, bided her time, keeping close to her -niece. Perhaps she felt that if the two were engaged, it might be well to -keep the lovers separated for a while, lest they should quarrel before the -engagement should have been so confirmed by the authority of friends as to -be beyond the power of easy annihilation. Lucinda rode quite demurely with -the crowd. Sir Griffin remained near her, but without speaking. Lizzie -whispered to Lord George that there had been a proposal. Mrs. Carbuncle -sat in stately dignity on her horse, as though there was nothing which at -that moment especially engaged her attention. An hour almost had passed -before she was able to ask the important question, "Well--what have you -said to him?" - -"Oh; just what you would have me." - -"You have accepted him?" - -"I suppose I was obliged. At any rate I did. You shall know one thing, -Aunt Jane, at any rate, and I hope it will make you comfortable. I hate a -good many people; but of all the people in the world I hate Sir Griffin -Tewett the worst." - -"Nonsense, Lucinda." - -"It shall be nonsense, if you please; but it's true. I shall have to lie -to him, but there shall be no lying to you, however much you may wish it. -I hate him!" - -This was very grim, but Mrs Carbuncle quite understood that to persons -situated in great difficulty things might be grim. A certain amount of -grimness must be endured. And she knew, too, that Lucinda was not a girl -to be driven without showing something of an intractable spirit in -harness. Mrs. Carbuncle had undertaken the driving of Lucinda, and had -been not altogether unsuccessful. The thing so necessary to be done was -now effected. Her niece was engaged to a man with a title, to a man -reported to have a fortune, to a man of family, and a man of the world. -Now that the engagement was made, the girl could not go back from it, and -it was for Mrs. Carbuncle to see that neither should Sir Griffin go back. -Her first steps must be taken at once. The engagement should be made known -to all the party, and should be recognised by some word spoken between -herself and the lover. The word between herself and the lover must be the -first thing. She herself, personally, was not very fond of Sir Griffin; -but on such an occasion as this she could smile and endure the bear. Sir -Griffin was a bear--but so also was Lucinda. "The rabbits and hares All go -in pairs; And likewise the bears In couples agree." Mrs. Carbuncle -consoled herself with the song, and assured herself that it would all come -right. No doubt the she bears were not as civil to the he-bears as the -turtle doves are to each other. It was perhaps her misfortune that her -niece was not a turtle dove; but, such as she was, the best had been done -for her. - -"Dear Sir Griffin," she said on the first available opportunity, not -caring much for the crowd, and almost desirous that her very words should -be overheard, "my darling girl has made me so happy by what she has told -me." - -"She hasn't lost any time," said Sir Griffin. - -"Of course she would lose no time. She is the same to me as a daughter. I -have no child of my own, and she is everything to me. May I tell you that -you are the luckiest man in Europe?" - -"It isn't every girl that would suit me, Mrs. Carbuncle." - -"I am sure of that. I have noticed how particular you are. I won't say a -word of Lucinda's beauty; men are better judges of that than women; but -for high chivalrous spirit, for true principle and nobility, and what I -call downright worth, I don't think you will easily find her superior. And -she is as true as steel." - -"And about as hard, I was beginning to think." - -"A girl like that, Sir Griffin, does not give herself away easily. You -will not like her the less for that now that you are the possessor. She is -very young, and has known my wish that she should not engage herself to -any one quite yet. But as it is, I cannot regret anything." - -"I dare say not," said Sir Griffin. - -That the man was a bear was a matter of course, and bears probably do not -themselves know how bearish they are. Sir Griffin, no doubt, was unaware -of the extent of his own rudeness. And his rudeness mattered but little to -Mrs. Carbuncle, so long as he acknowledged the engagement. She had not -expected a lover's raptures from the one more than from the other. And was -not there enough in the engagement to satisfy her? She allowed, therefore, -no cloud to cross her brow as she rode up alongside of Lord George. "Sir -Griffin has proposed, and she has accepted him," she said in a whisper. -She was not now desirous that any one should hear her but he to whom she -spoke. - -"Of course she has," said Lord George. - -"I don't know about that, George. Sometimes I thought she would, and -sometimes that she wouldn't. You have never understood Lucinda." - -"I hope Griff will understand her, that's all. And now that the thing is -settled, you'll not trouble me about it any more. Their woes be on their -own head. If they come to blows Lucinda will thrash him, I don't doubt. -But while it's simply a matter of temper and words, she won't find Tewett -so easygoing as he looks." - -"I believe they'll do very well together." - -"Perhaps they will. There's no saying who may do well together. You and -Carbuncle get on _au marvel_. When is it to be?" - -"Of course nothing is settled yet." - -"Don't be too hard about settlements, or, maybe, he'll find a way of -wriggling out. When a girl without a shilling asks very much, the world -supports a man for breaking his engagement. Let her pretend to be -indifferent about it; that will be the way to keep him firm." - -"What is his income, George?" - -"I haven't an idea. There never was a closer man about money. I believe he -must have the bulk of the Tewett property some day. He can't spend above a -couple of thousand now." - -"He's not in debt, is he?" - -"He owes me a little money--twelve hundred or so--and I mean to have it. I -suppose he is in debt, but not much, I think. He makes stupid bets, and -the devil won't break him of it." - -"Lucinda has two or three thousand pounds, you know." - -"That's a flea-bite. Let her keep it. You're in for it now, and you'd -better say nothing about money. He has a decent solicitor, and let him -arrange about the settlements. And look here, Jane; get it done as soon as -you can." - -"You'll help me?" - -"If you don't bother me, I will." - -On their way home Mrs. Carbuncle was able to tell Lady Eustace. "You know -what has occurred?" - -"Oh, dear, yes," said Lizzie laughing. - -"Has Lucinda told you?" - -"Do you think I've got no eyes? Of course it was going to be. I knew that -from the very moment Sir Griffin reached Portray. I am so glad that -Portray has been useful." - -"Oh, so useful, dear Lady Eustace! Not but what it must have come off -anywhere, for there never was a man so much in love as Sir Griffin. The -difficulty has been with Lucinda." - -"She likes him, I suppose?" - -"Oh, yes, of course," said Mrs. Carbuncle with energy. - -"Not that girls ever really care about men now. They've got to be married, -and they make the best of it. She's very handsome, and I suppose he's -pretty well off." - -"He will be very rich indeed. And they say he's such an excellent young -man when you know him." - -"I dare say most young men are excellent when you come to know them. What -does Lord George say?" - -"He's in raptures. He is very much attached to Lucinda, you know." And so -that affair was managed. They hadn't been home a quarter of an hour before -Frank Greystock was told. He asked Mrs. Carbuncle about the sport, and -then she whispered to him, "An engagement has been made." - -"Sir Griffin?" suggested Frank. Mrs. Carbuncle smiled and nodded her head. -It was well that everybody should know it. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - -SUNDAY MORNING - - -"So, Miss, you've took him," said the joint Abigail of the Carbuncle -establishment that evening to the younger of her two mistresses. Mrs. -Carbuncle had resolved that the thing should be quite public. - -"Just remember this," replied Lucinda, "I don't want to have a word said -to me on the subject." - -"Only just to wish you joy, miss." - -Lucinda turned round with a flash of anger at the girl. "I don't want your -wishing. That'll do. I can manage by myself. I won't have you come near me -if you can't hold your tongue when you're told." - -"I can hold my tongue as well as anybody," said the Abigail with a toss of -her head. - -This happened after the party had separated for the evening. At dinner Sir -Griffin had, of course, given Lucinda his arm; but so he had always done -since they had been at Portray. Lucinda hardly opened her mouth at table, -and had retreated to bed with a headache when the men, who on that day -lingered a few minutes after the ladies, went into the drawing-room. This -Sir Griffin felt to be almost an affront, as there was a certain process -of farewell for the night which he had anticipated. If she was going to -treat him like that, he would cut up rough, and she should know it. - -"Well, Griff, so it's all settled," said Lord George in the smoking-room. -Frank Greystock was there, and Sir Griffin did not like it. - -"What do you mean by settled? I don't know that anything is settled." - -"I thought it was. Weren't you told so?" And Lord George turned to -Greystock. - -"I thought I heard a hint," said Frank. - -"I'm----if I ever knew such people in my life," said Sir Griffin. "They -don't seem to have an idea that a man's own affairs may be private." - -"Such an affair as that never is private," said Lord George. "The women -take care of that. You don't suppose they're going to run down their game, -and let nobody know it." - -"If they take me for game--" - -"Of course you're game. Every man's game. Only some men are such bad game -that they ain't worth following. Take it easy, Griff; you're caught." - -"No, I ain't." - -"And enjoy the satisfaction of knowing that she's about the handsomest -girl out. As for me, I'd sooner have the widow. I beg your pardon, Mr. -Greystock." Frank merely bowed. "Simply, I mean, because she rides about -two stone lighter. It'll cost you something to mount Lady Tewett." - -"I don't mean that she shall hunt," said Sir Griffin. It will be seen, -therefore, that the baronet made no real attempt to deny his engagement. - -On the following day, which was Sunday, Sir Griffin, having ascertained -that Miss Roanoke did not intend to go to church, stayed at home also. Mr. -Emilius had been engaged to preach at the nearest Episcopal place of -worship, and the remainder of the party all went to hear him. Lizzie was -very particular about her Bible and Prayer-book, and Miss Macnulty wore a -brighter ribbon on her bonnet than she had ever been known to carry -before. Lucinda, when she had heard of the arrangement, had protested to -her aunt that she would not go down-stairs till they had all returned; but -Mrs. Carbuncle, fearing the anger of Sir Griffin, doubting whether in his -anger he might not escape them altogether, said a word or two which even -Lucinda found to be rational. "As you have accepted him, you shouldn't -avoid him, my dear. That is only making things worse for the future. And -then it's cowardly, is it not?" No word that could have been spoken was -more likely to be efficacious. At any rate, she would not be cowardly. - -As soon then as the wheels of the carriage were no longer heard grating -upon the road, Lucinda, who had been very careful in her dress, so careful -as to avoid all appearance of care, with slow majestic step descended to a -drawing-room which they were accustomed to use on mornings. It was -probable that Sir Griffin was smoking somewhere about the grounds, but it -could not be her duty to go after him out of doors. She would remain -there, and, if he chose, he might come to her. There could be no ground of -complaint on his side if she allowed herself to be found in one of the -ordinary sitting-rooms of the house. In about half an hour he sauntered -upon the terrace, and flattened his nose against the window. She bowed and -smiled to him, hating herself for smiling. It was perhaps the first time -that she had endeavoured to put on a pleasant face wherewithal to greet -him. He said nothing then, but passed round the house, threw away the end -of his cigar, and entered the room. Whatever happened, she would not be a -coward. The thing had to be done. Seeing that she had accepted him on the -previous day, had not run away in the night or taken poison, and had come -down to undergo the interview, she would undergo it at least with courage. -What did it matter, even though he should embrace her? It was her lot to -undergo misery, and as she had not chosen to take poison, the misery must -be endured. She rose as he entered and gave him her hand. She had thought -what she would do, and was collected and dignified. He had not, and was -very awkward. - -"So you haven't gone to church, Sir Griffin, as you ought," she said, with -another smile. - -"Come, I've gone as much as you." - -"But I had a headache. You stayed away to smoke cigars." - -"I stayed to see you, my girl." A lover may call his ladylove his girl, -and do so very prettily. He may so use the word that she will like it, and -be grateful in her heart for the sweetness of the sound. But Sir Griffin -did not do it nicely. "I've got ever so much to say to you." - -"I won't flatter you by saying that I stayed to hear it." - -"But you did; didn't you now?" She shook her head; but there was something -almost of playfulness in her manner of doing it. "Ah, but I know you did. -And why shouldn't you speak out, now that we are to be man and wife? I -like a girl to speak out. I suppose if I want to be with you, you want as -much to be with me; eh?" - -"I don't see that that follows." - -"By ----, if it doesn't I'll be off." - -"You must please yourself about that, Sir Griffin." - -"Come; do you love me? You have never said you loved me." Luckily perhaps -for her, he thought that the best assurance of love was a kiss. She did -not revolt, or attempt to struggle with him; but the hot blood flew over -her entire face, and her lips were very cold to his, and she almost -trembled in his grasp. Sir Griffin was not a man who could ever have been -the adored of many women, but the instincts of his kind were strong enough -within him to make him feel that she did not return his embrace with -passion. He had found her to be very beautiful; but it seemed to him that -she had never been so little beautiful as when thus pressed close to his -bosom. "Come," he said, still holding her, "you'll give me a kiss?" - -"I did do it," she said. - -"No; nothing like it. Oh, if you won't, you know----." - -On a sudden she made up her mind, and absolutely did kiss him. She would -sooner have leaped at the blackest, darkest, dirtiest river in the county. -"There," she said, "that will do," gently extricating herself from his -arms. "Some girls are different, I know; but you must take me as I am, Sir -Griffin; that is, if you do take me." - -"Why can't you drop the Sir?" - -"Oh yes; I can do that." - -"And you do love me?" There was a pause, while she tried to swallow the -lie. "Come; I'm not going to marry any girl who is ashamed to say that she -loves me. I like a little flesh and blood. You do love me?" - -"Yes," she said. The lie was told; and for the moment he had to be -satisfied. But in his heart he didn't believe her. It was all very well -for her to say that she wasn't like other girls. Why shouldn't she be like -other girls? It might, no doubt, suit her to be made Lady Tewett; but he -wouldn't make her Lady Tewett if she gave herself airs with him. She -should lie on his breast and swear that she loved him beyond all the -world, or else she should never be Lady Tewett. Different from other girls -indeed! She should know that he was different from other men. Then he -asked her to come and take a walk about the grounds. To that she made no -objection. She would get her hat and be with him in a minute. - -But she was absent more than ten minutes. When she was alone she stood -before her glass looking at herself, and then she burst into tears. Never -before had she been thus polluted. The embrace had disgusted her. It made -her odious to herself. And if this, the beginning of it, was so bad, how -was she to drink the cup to the bitter dregs? Other girls, she knew, were -fond of their lovers--some so fond of them that all moments of absence -were moments, if not of pain, at any rate of regret. To her, as she stood -there ready to tear herself because of the vileness of her own condition, -it now seemed as though no such love as that were possible to her. For the -sake of this man who was to be her husband, she hated all men. Was not -everything around her base, and mean, and sordid? She had understood -thoroughly the quick divulgings of Mrs. Carbuncle's tidings, the working -of her aunt's anxious mind. The man, now that he had been caught, was not -to be allowed to escape. But how great would be the boon if he would -escape. How should she escape? And yet she knew that she meant to go on -and bear it all. Perhaps by study and due practice she might become--as -were some others--a beast of prey and nothing more. The feeling that had -made these few minutes so inexpressibly loathsome to her might, perhaps, -be driven from her heart. She washed the tears from her eyes with savage -energy, and descended to her lover with a veil fastened closely under her -hat. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting," she said. - -"Women always do," he replied laughing. "It gives them importance." - -"It is not so with me, I can assure you. I will tell you the truth. I was -agitated, and I cried." - -"Oh, ay; I dare say." He rather liked the idea of having reduced the -haughty Lucinda to tears. "But you needn't have been ashamed of my seeing -it. As it is, I can see nothing. You must take that off presently." - -"Not now, Griffin." Oh, what a name it was! It seemed to blister her -tongue as she used it without the usual prefix. - -"I never saw you tied up in that way before. You don't do it out hunting. -I've seen you when the snow has been driving in your face, and you didn't -mind it--not so much as I did." - -"You can't be surprised that I should be agitated now." - -"But you're happy, ain't you?" - -"Yes," she said. The lie once told must of course be continued. - - "Upon my word, I don't quite understand you," said Sir Griffin. "Look -here, Lucinda; if you want to back out of it you can, you know." - -"If you ask me again, I will." This was said with the old savage voice, -and it at once reduced Sir Griffin to thraldom. To be rejected now would -be the death of him. And should there come a quarrel, he was sure that it -would seem to be that he had been rejected. - -"I suppose it's all right," he said; "only when a man is only thinking how -he can make you happy, he doesn't like to find nothing but crying." After -this there was but little more said between them before they returned to -the castle. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - -LIFE AT PORTRAY - - -On the Monday Frank took his departure. Everybody at the castle had liked -him except Sir Griffin, who, when he had gone, remarked to Lucinda that he -was an insufferable legal prig, and one of those chaps who think -themselves somebody because they are in Parliament. Lucinda had liked -Frank, and said so very boldly. "I see what it is," replied Sir Griffin; -"you always like the people I don't." - -When he was going, Lizzie left her hand in his for a moment, and gave one -look up into his eyes. "When is Lucy to be made blessed?" she asked. - -"I don't know that Lucy will ever be made blessed," he replied, "but I am -sure I hope she will." Not a word more was said, and he returned to -London. - -After that Mrs. Carbuncle and Lucinda remained at Portray Castle till -after Christmas, greatly overstaying the original time fixed for their -visit. Lord George and Sir Griffin went and returned, and went again and -returned again. There was much hunting and a great many love passages, -which need not be recorded here. More than once during these six or seven -weeks there arose a quarrel, bitter, loud, and pronounced, between Sir -Griffin and Lucinda; but Lord George and Mrs. Carbuncle between them -managed to throw oil upon the waters, and when Christmas came the -engagement was still an engagement. The absolute suggestion that it should -be broken, and abandoned, and thrown to the winds, always came from -Lucinda; and Sir Griffin, when he found that Lucinda was in earnest, would -again be moved by his old desires, and would determine that he would have -the thing he wanted. Once he behaved with such coarse brutality that -nothing but an abject apology would serve the turn. He made the abject -apology, and after that became conscious that his wings were clipped, and -that he must do as he was bidden. Lord George took him away, and brought -him back again, and blew him up; and at last, under pressure from Mrs. -Carbuncle, made him consent to the fixing of a day. The marriage was to -take place during the first week in April. When the party moved from -Portray he was to go up to London and see his lawyer. Settlements were to -be arranged, and something was to be fixed as to future residence. - -In the midst of all this Lucinda was passive as regarded the making of the -arrangements, but very troublesome to those around her as to her immediate -mode of life. Even to Lady Eustace she was curt and uncivil. To her aunt -she was at times ferocious. She told Lord George more than once to his -face that he was hurrying her to perdition. - -"What the d---- is it you want?" Lord George said to her. - -"Not to be married to this man." - -"But you have accepted him. I didn't ask you to take him. You don't want -to go into a workhouse, I suppose?" - -Then she rode so hard that all the Ayrshire lairds were startled out of -their propriety, and there was a general fear that she would meet some -terrible accident. And Lizzie, instigated by jealousy, learned to ride as -hard, and as they rode against each other every day, there was a turmoil -in the hunt. Morgan, scratching his head, declared that he had known -"drunken rampaging men," but had never seen ladies so wicked. Lizzie did -come down rather badly at one wall, and Lucinda got herself jammed against -a gate-post. But when Christmas was come and gone, and Portray Castle had -been left empty, no very bad accident had occurred. - -A great friendship had sprung up between Mrs. Carbuncle and Lizzie, so -that both had become very communicative. Whether both or either had been -candid may, perhaps, be doubted. Mrs. Carbuncle had been quite -confidential in discussing with her friend the dangerous varieties of -Lucinda's humours, and the dreadful aversion which she still seemed to -entertain for Sir Griffin. But then these humours and this aversion were -so visible, that they could not well be concealed; and what can be the use -of confidential communications if things are kept back which the -confidante would see even if they were not told? - -"She would be just like that, whoever the man was," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I suppose so," said Lizzie, wondering at such a phenomenon in female -nature. But with this fact, understood between them to be a fact--namely, -that Lucinda would be sure to hate any man whom she might accept--they -both agreed that the marriage had better go on. - -"She must take a husband some day, you know," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Of course," said Lizzie. - -"With her good looks, it would be out of the question that she shouldn't -be married." - -"Quite out of the question," repeated Lizzie. - -"And I really don't see how she's to do better. It's her nature, you know. -I have had enough of it, I can tell you. And at the pension, near Paris, -they couldn't break her in at all. Nobody could ever break her in. You see -it in the way she rides." - -"I suppose Sir Griffin must do it," said Lizzie, laughing. - -"Well--that, or the other thing, you know." But there was no doubt about -this--whoever might break or be broken, the marriage must go on. "If you -don't persevere with one like her, Lady Eustace, nothing can be done." -Lizzie quite concurred. What did it matter to her who should break, or who -be broken, if she could only sail her own little bark without dashing it -on the rocks? Rocks there were. She didn't quite know what to make of Lord -George, who certainly was a Corsair--who had said some very pretty things -to her, quite à la Corsair. But in the mean time, from certain rumours -that she heard, she believed that Frank had given up, or at least was -intending to give up, the little chit who was living with Lady Linlithgow. -There had been something of a quarrel--so, at least, she had heard through -Miss Macnulty, with whom Lady Linlithgow still occasionally corresponded -in spite of their former breaches. From Frank, Lizzie heard repeatedly but -Frank in his letters never mentioned the name of Lucy Morris. Now, if -there should be a division between Frank and Lucy, then, she thought, -Frank would return to her. And if so, for a permanent holding rock of -protection in the world, her cousin Frank would be at any rate safer than -the Corsair. - -Lizzie and Mrs. Carbuncle had quite come to understand each other -comfortably about money. It suited Mrs. Carbuncle very well to remain at -Portray. It was no longer necessary that she should carry Lucinda about in -search of game to be run down. The one head of game needed had been run -down, such as it was--not, indeed, a very noble stag; but the stag had -been accepted; and a home for herself and her niece, which should have -about it a sufficient air of fashion to satisfy public opinion--out of -London--better still, in Scotland, belonging to a person with a title, -enjoying the appurtenances of wealth, and one to which Lord George and Sir -Griffin could have access--was very desirable. But it was out of the -question that Lady Eustace should bear all the expense. Mrs. Carbuncle -undertook to find the stables, and did pay for that rick of hay and for -the cartload of forage which had made Lizzie's heart quake as she saw it -dragged up the hill towards her own granaries. It is very comfortable when -all these things are clearly understood. Early in January they were all to -go back to London. Then for a while--up to the period of Lucinda's -marriage--Lizzie was to be Mrs. Carbuncle's guest at the small house in -May Fair, but Lizzie was to keep the carriage. There came at last to be -some little attempt, perhaps, at a hard bargain at the hand of each lady, -in which Mrs. Carbuncle, as the elder, probably got the advantage. There -was a question about the liveries in London. The footman there must -appertain to Mrs. Carbuncle, whereas the coachman would as necessarily be -one of Lizzie's retainers. Mrs. Carbuncle assented at last to finding the -double livery--but, like a prudent woman, arranged to get her quid pro -quo. "You can add something, you know, to the present you'll have to give -Lucinda. Lucinda shall choose something up to forty pounds." - -"We'll say thirty," said Lizzie, who was beginning to know the value of -money. - -"Split the difference," said Mrs. Carbuncle, with a pleasant little burst -of laughter--and the difference was split. That the very neat and even -dandified appearance of the groom who rode out hunting with them should be -provided at the expense of Mrs. Carbuncle was quite understood; but it was -equally well understood that Lizzie was to provide the horse on which he -rode, on every third day. It adds greatly to the comfort of friends living -together when these things are accurately settled. - -Mr. Emilius remained longer than had been anticipated, and did not go till -Lord George and Sir Griffin took their departure. It was observed that he -never spoke of his wife; and yet Mrs. Carbuncle was almost sure that she -had heard of such a lady. He had made himself very agreeable, and was, -either by art or nature, a courteous man, one who paid compliments to -ladies. It was true, however, that he sometimes startled his hearers, by -things which might have been considered to border on coarseness if they -had not been said by a clergyman. Lizzie had an idea that he intended to -marry Miss Macnulty. And Miss Macnulty certainly received his attentions -with pleasure. In these circumstances his prolonged stay at the castle was -not questioned; but when towards the end of November Lord George and Sir -Griffin took their departure, he was obliged to return to his flock. - -On the great subject of the diamonds Lizzie had spoken her mind freely to -Mrs. Carbuncle early in the days of their friendship--immediately, that -is, after the bargaining had been completed. "Ten thousand pounds!" -ejaculated Mrs. Carbuncle, opening wide her eyes. Lizzie nodded her head -thrice, in token of reiterated assurance. "Do you mean that you really -know their value?" The ladies at this time were closeted together, and -were discussing many things in the closest confidence. - -"They were valued for me by jewellers." - -"Ten thousand pounds! And Sir Florian gave them to you?" - -"Put them round my neck, and told me they were to be mine, always." - -"Generous man!" - -"Ah, if you had but known him!" said Lizzie, just touching her eye with -her handkerchief. - -"I dare say. And now the people claim them. I'm not a bit surprised at -that, my dear. I should have thought a man couldn't give away so much as -that, not just as one makes a present that costs forty or fifty pounds." -Mrs. Carbuncle could not resist the opportunity of showing that she did -not think so very much of that coming thirty-five-pound "gift" for which -the bargain had been made. - -"That's what they say. And they say ever so many other things besides. -They mean to prove that it's an--heirloom." - -"Perhaps it is." - -"But it isn't. My cousin Frank, who knows more about law than any other -man in London, says that they can't make a necklace an heirloom. If it was -a brooch or a ring, it would be different. I don't quite understand it, -but it is so." - -"It's a pity Sir Florian didn't say something about it in his will," -suggested Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"But he did; at least, not just about the necklace." Then Lady Eustace -explained the nature of her late husband's will, as far as it regarded -chattels to be found in the castle of Portray at the time of his death; -and added the fiction, which had now become common to her, as to the -necklace having been given to her in Scotland. - -"I shouldn't let them have it," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I don't mean," said Lizzie. - -"I should sell them," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"But why?" - -"Because there are so many accidents. A woman should be very rich indeed -before she allows herself to walk about with ten thousand pounds upon her -shoulders. Suppose somebody broke into the house and stole them. And if -they were sold, my dear, so that some got to Paris, and others to St. -Petersburg, and others to New York, they'd have to give it up then." -Before the discussion was over Lizzie tripped upstairs and brought the -necklace down and put it on Mrs. Carbuncle's neck. "I shouldn't like to -have such property in my house, my dear," continued Mrs. Carbuncle. "Of -course diamonds are very nice. Nothing is so nice. And if a person had a -proper place to keep them, and all that----" - -"I've a very strong iron case," said Lizzie. - -"But they should be at the bank, or at the jeweller's, or somewhere quite ---quite safe. People might steal the case and all. If I were you I should -sell them." It was explained to Mrs. Carbuncle on that occasion that -Lizzie had brought them down with her in the train from London, and that -she intended to take them back in the same way. "There's nothing the -thieves would find easier than to steal them on the way," said Mrs. -Carbuncle. - -It was some days after this that there came down to her by post some -terribly frightful documents, which were the first results, as far as she -was concerned, of the filing of a bill in Chancery; which hostile -proceeding was, in truth, effected by the unaided energy of Mr. -Camperdown, although Mr. Camperdown put himself forward simply as an -instrument used by the trustees of the Eustace property. Within eight days -she was to enter an appearance, or go through some preliminary ceremony -toward showing why she should not surrender her diamonds to the Lord -Chancellor, or to one of those satraps of his, the Vice-Chancellors, or to -some other terrible myrmidon. Mr. Camperdown in his letter explained that -the service of this document upon her in Scotland would amount to nothing, -even were he to send it down by a messenger; but that no doubt she would -send it to her attorney, who would see the expediency of avoiding exposure -by accepting the service. Of all which explanation Lizzie did not -understand one word. Messrs. Camperdown's letter and the document which it -contained did frighten her considerably, although the matter had been -discussed so often that she had accustomed herself to declare that no such -bugbear as that should have any influence on her. She had asked Frank -whether, in the event of such missiles reaching her, she might send them -to him. He had told her that they should be at once placed in the hands of -her attorney; and consequently she now sent them to Messrs. Mowbray & -Mopus, with a very short note from herself. "Lady Eustace presents her -compliments to Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus, and encloses some papers she has -received about her diamonds. They are her own diamonds, given to her by -her late husband. Please do what is proper, but Mr. Camperdown ought to be -made to pay all the expenses." - -She had, no doubt, allowed herself to hope that no further steps would be -taken in the matter; and the very name of the Vice-Chancellor did for a -few hours chill the blood at her heart. In those few hours she almost -longed to throw the necklace into the sea, feeling sure that, if the -diamonds were absolutely lost, there must be altogether an end of the -matter, But, by degrees, her courage returned to her, as she remembered -that her cousin had told her that, as far as he could see, the necklace -was legally her own. Her cousin had, of course, been deceived by the lies -which she had repeated to him; but lies which had been efficacious with -him might be efficacious with others. Who could prove that Sir Florian had -not taken the diamonds to Scotland, and given them to her there, in that -very house which was now her own? - -She told Mrs. Carbuncle of the missiles which had been hurled at her from -the London courts of law, and Mrs. Carbuncle evidently thought that the -diamonds were as good as gone. "Then I suppose you can't sell them," said -she. - -"Yes, I could; I could sell them to-morrow. What is to hinder me? Suppose -I took them to jewellers in Paris?" - -"The jewellers would think you had stolen them." - -"I didn't steal them," said Lizzie. "They're my very own. Frank says that -nobody can take them away from me. Why shouldn't a man give his wife a -diamond necklace as well as a diamond ring? That's what I can't -understand. What may he give her so that men sha'n't come and worry her -life out of her in this way? As for an heirloom, anybody who knows -anything, knows it can't be an heirloom. A pot or a pan may be an -heirloom; but a diamond necklace cannot be an heirloom. Everybody knows -that, that knows anything." - -"I dare say it will all come right," said Mrs. Carbuncle, who did not in -the least believe Lizzie's law about the pot and pan. - -In the first week in January Lord George and Sir Griffin returned to the -castle with the view of travelling up to London with the three ladies. -This arrangement was partly thrown over by circumstances, as Sir Griffin -was pleased to leave Portray two days before the others and to travel by -himself. There was a bitter quarrel between Lucinda and her lover, and it -was understood afterwards by Lady Eustace that Sir Griffin had had a few -words with Lord George; but what those few words were, she never quite -knew. There was no open rupture between the two gentlemen, but Sir Griffin -showed his displeasure to the ladies, who were more likely to bear -patiently his ill-humour in the present circumstances than was Lord -George. When a man has shown himself to be so far amenable to feminine -authority as to have put himself in the way of matrimony, ladies will bear -a great deal from him. There was nothing which Mrs. Carbuncle would not -endure from Sir Griffin, just at present; and, on behalf of Mrs. -Carbuncle, even Lizzie was long-suffering. It cannot, however, be said -that this Petruchio had as yet tamed his own peculiar shrew. Lucinda was -as savage as ever, and would snap and snarl, and almost bite. Sir Griffin -would snarl too, and say very bearish things. But when it came to the -point of actual quarrelling, he would become sullen, and in his sullenness -would yield. - -"I don't see why Carruthers should have it all his own way," he said, one -hunting morning, to Lucinda. - -"I don't care twopence who have their way," said Lucinda, "I mean to have -mine; that's all." - -"I'm not speaking about you. I call it downright interference on his part. -And I do think you give way to him. You never do anything that I suggest." - -"You never suggest anything that I like to do," said Lucinda. - -"That's a pity," said Sir Griffin, "considering that I shall have to -suggest so many things that you will have to do." - -"I don't know that at all," said Lucinda. - -Mrs. Carbuncle came up during the quarrel, meaning to throw oil upon the -waters. "What children you are!" she said laughing. "As if each of you -won't have to do what the other suggests." - -"Mrs. Carbuncle," began Sir Griffin, "if you will have the great kindness -not to endeavour to teach me what my conduct should be now or at any -future time, I shall take it as a kindness." - -"Sir Griffin, pray don't quarrel with Mrs. Carbuncle," said Lizzie. - -"Lady Eustace, if Mrs. Carbuncle interferes with me, I shall quarrel with -her. I have borne a great deal more of this kind of thing than I like. I'm -not going to be told this and told that because Mrs. Carbuncle happens to -be the aunt of the future Lady Tewett--if it should come to that. I'm not -going to marry a whole family; and the less I have of this kind of thing -the more likely it is that I shall come up to scratch when the time is -up." - -Then Lucinda rose and spoke. "Sir Griffin Tewett," she said, "there is not -the slightest necessity that you should 'come up to scratch.' I wonder -that I have not as yet been able to make you understand that if it will -suit your convenience to break off our match, it will not in the least -interfere with mine. And let me tell you this, Sir Griffin, that any -repetition of your unkindness to my aunt will make me utterly refuse to -see you again." - -"Of course you like her better than you do me." - -"A great deal better," said Lucinda. - -"If I stand that I'll be ----," said Sir Griffin, leaving the room. And he -left the castle, sleeping that night in the inn at Kilmarnock. The day, -however, was passed in hunting; and though he said nothing to either of -the three ladies, it was understood by them as they returned to Portray -that there was to be no quarrel. Lord George and Sir Griffin had discussed -the matter, and Lord George took upon himself to say that there was no -quarrel. On the morning but one following, there came a note from Sir -Griffin to Lucinda just as they were leaving home for their journey up to -London, in which Sir Griffin expressed his regret if he had said anything -displeasing to Mrs. Carbuncle. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - -A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE - - -Something as to the jewels had been told to Lord George; and this was -quite necessary, as Lord George intended to travel with the ladies from -Portray to London. Of course he had heard of the diamonds, as who had not? -He had heard too of Lord Fawn, and knew why it was that Lord Fawn had -peremptorily refused to carry out his engagement. But, till he was told by -Mrs. Carbuncle, he did not know that the diamonds were then kept within -the castle, nor did he understand that it would be part of his duty to -guard them on their way back to London. - -"They are worth ever so much, ain't they?" he said to Mrs. Carbuncle, when -she first gave him the information. - -"Ten thousand pounds," said Mrs. Carbuncle, almost with awe. - -"I don't believe a word of it," said Lord George. - -"She says that they've been valued at that, since she's had them." - -Lord George owned to himself that such a necklace was worth having, as -also, no doubt, were Portray Castle and the income arising from the -estate, even though they could be held in possession only for a single -life. Hitherto in his very checkered career he had escaped the trammels of -matrimony, and among his many modes of life had hardly even suggested to -himself the expediency of taking a wife with a fortune, and then settling -down for the future, if submissively, still comfortably. To say that he -had never looked forward to such a marriage as a possible future -arrangement would probably be incorrect. To men such as Lord George it is -too easy a result of a career to be altogether banished from the mind. But -no attempt had ever yet been made, nor had any special lady ever been so -far honoured in his thoughts as to be connected in them with any vague -ideas which he might have formed on the subject. But now it did occur to -him that Portray Castle was a place in which he could pass two or three -months annually without ennui; and that if he were to marry, little Lizzie -Eustace would do as well as any other woman with money whom he might -chance to meet. He did not say all this to any body, and therefore cannot -be accused of vanity. He was the last man in the world to speak on such a -subject to any one. And as even Lizzie certainly bestowed upon him many of -her smiles, much of her poetry, and some of her confidence, it cannot be -said that he was not justified in his views. But then she was such an-- -"infernal little liar." Lord George was quite able to discover so much of -her. - -"She does lie, certainly," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "but then who doesn't?" - -On the morning of their departure the box with the diamonds was brought -down into the hall just as they were about to depart. The tall London -footman again brought it down, and deposited it on one of the oak hall- -chairs, as though it were a thing so heavy that he could hardly stagger -along with it. How Lizzie did hate the man as she watched him, and regret -that she had not attempted to carry it down herself. She had been with her -diamonds that morning, and had had them out of the box and into it. Few -days passed on which she did not handle them and gaze at them. Mrs. -Carbuncle had suggested that the box, with all her diamonds in it, might -be stolen from her, and as she thought of this her heart almost sank -within her. When she had them once again in London she would take some -steps to relieve herself from this embarrassment of carrying about with -her so great a burden of care. The man, with a vehement show of exertion, -deposited the box on a chair, and then groaned aloud. Lizzie knew very -well that she could lift the box by her own unaided exertions, and the -groan was at any rate unnecessary. - -"Supposing somebody were to steal that on the way," said Lord George to -her, not in his pleasantest tone. - -"Do not suggest anything so horrible," said Lizzie, trying to laugh. - -"I shouldn't like it at all," said Lord George. - -"I don't think it would make me a bit unhappy. You've heard about it all. -There never was such a persecution. I often say that I should be well -pleased to take the bauble and fling it into the ocean waves." - -"I should like to be a mermaid and catch it," said Lord George. - -"And what better would you be? Such things are all vanity and vexation of -spirit. I hate the shining thing." And she hit the box with the whip she -held in her hand. - -It had been arranged that the party should sleep at Carlisle. It consisted -of Lord George, the three ladies, the tall man servant, Lord George's own -man, and the two maids. Miss Macnulty, with the heir and the nurses, were -to remain at Portray for yet a while longer. The iron box was again put -into the carriage, and was used by Lizzie as a footstool. This might have -been very well, had there been no necessity for changing their train. At -Troon the porter behaved well, and did not struggle much as he carried it -from the carriage on to the platform. But at Kilmarnock, where they met -the train from Glasgow, the big footman interfered again, and the scene -was performed under the eyes of a crowd of people. It seemed to Lizzie -that Lord George almost encouraged the struggling, as though he were in -league with the footman to annoy her. But there was no further change -between Kilmarnock and Carlisle, and they managed to make themselves very -comfortable. Lunch had been provided; for Mrs. Carbuncle was a woman who -cared for such things, and Lord George also liked a glass of champagne in -the middle of the day. Lizzie professed to be perfectly indifferent on -such matters; but nevertheless she enjoyed her lunch, and allowed Lord -George to press upon her a second, and perhaps a portion of a third glass -of wine. Even Lucinda was roused up from her general state of apathy, and -permitted herself to forget Sir Griffin for a while. - -During this journey to Carlisle Lizzie Eustace almost made up her mind -that Lord George was the very Corsair she had been expecting ever since -she had mastered Lord Byron's great poem. He had a way of doing things and -of saying things, of proclaiming himself to be master, and at the same -time of making himself thoroughly agreeable to his dependents, and -especially to the one dependent whom he most honoured at the time, which -exactly suited Lizzie's ideas of what a man should be. And then he -possessed that utter indifference to all conventions and laws which is the -great prerogative of Corsairs. He had no reverence for aught divine or -human, which is a great thing. The Queen and Parliament, the bench of -bishops, and even the police, were to him just so many fungi and -parasites, and noxious vapours, and false hypocrites. Such were the names -by which he ventured to call these bugbears of the world. It was so -delightful to live with a man who himself had a title of his own, but who -could speak of dukes and marquises as being quite despicable by reason of -their absurd position. And as they became gay and free after their -luncheon he expressed almost as much contempt for honesty as for dukes, -and showed clearly that he regarded matrimony and marquises to be equally -vain and useless. "How dare you say such things in our hearing?" exclaimed -Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I assert that if men and women were really true, no vows would be needed; -and if no vows, then no marriage vows. Do you believe such vows are kept?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Carbuncle enthusiastically. - -"I don't," said Lucinda. - -"Nor I," said the Corsair. "Who can believe that a woman will always love -her husband because she swears she will? The oath is false on the face of -it." - -"But women must marry," said Lizzie. The Corsair declared freely that he -did not see any such necessity. - -And then, though it could hardly be said that this Corsair was a handsome -man, still he had fine Corsair eyes, full of expression and determination, -eyes that could look love and bloodshed almost at the same time; and then -he had those manly properties--power, bigness, and apparent boldness-- -which belong to a Corsair. To be hurried about the world by such a man, -treated sometimes with crushing severity, and at others with the tenderest -love, not to be spoken to for one fortnight, and then to be embraced -perpetually for another, to be cast every now and then into some abyss of -despair by his rashness, and then raised to a pinnacle of human joy by his -courage--that, thought Lizzie, would be the kind of life which would suit -her poetical temperament. But then, how would it be with her if the -Corsair were to take to hurrying about the world without carrying her with -him, and were to do so always at her expense? Perhaps he might hurry about -the world and take somebody else with him. Medora, if Lizzie remembered -rightly, had had no jointure or private fortune. But yet a woman must risk -something if the spirit of poetry is to be allowed any play at all! "And -now these weary diamonds again," said Lord George, as the carriage was -stopped against the Carlisle platform. "I suppose they must go into your -bedroom, Lady Eustace?" - -"I wish you'd let the man put the box in yours, just for this night," said -Lizzie. - -"No, not if I know it," said Lord George. And then he explained. Such -property would be quite as liable to be stolen when in his custody as it -would in hers; but if stolen while in his would entail upon him a grievous -vexation which would by no means lessen the effect of her loss. She did -not understand him, but finding that he was quite in earnest she directed -that the box should be again taken to her own chamber. Lord George -suggested that it should be intrusted to the landlord; and for a moment or -two Lizzie submitted to the idea. But she stood for that moment thinking -of it, and then decided that the box should go to her own room. - -"There's no knowing what that Mr. Camperdown mightn't do," she whispered -to Lord George. The porter and the tall footman, between them, staggered -along under their load, and the iron box was again deposited in the -bedroom of the Carlisle inn. - -The evening at Carlisle was spent very pleasantly. The ladies agreed that -they would not dress--but of course they did so with more or less of care. -Lizzie made herself to look very pretty, though the skirt of the gown in -which she came down was that which she had worn during the journey. -Pointing this out with much triumph, she accused Mrs. Carbuncle and -Lucinda of great treachery, in that they had not adhered to any vestige of -their travelling raiment. But the rancour was not vehement, and the -evening was passed pleasantly. Lord George was infinitely petted by the -three Houris around him, and Lizzie called him a Corsair to his face. - -"And you are the Medora," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Oh no. That is your place, certainly," said Lizzie. - -"What a pity Sir Griffin isn't here," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "that we might -call him the Giaour." Lucinda shuddered, without any attempt at concealing -her shudder. "That's all very well, Lucinda, but I think Sir Griffin would -make a very good Giaour." - -"Pray don't, aunt. Let one forget it all just for a moment." - -"I wonder what Sir Griffin would say if he was to hear this," said Lord -George. - -Late in the evening Lord George strolled out, and of course all the ladies -discussed his character in his absence. Mrs. Carbuncle declared that he -was the soul of honour. In regard to her own feeling for him, she averred -that no woman had ever had a truer friend. Any other sentiment was of -course out of the question, for was she not a married woman? Had it not -been for that accident Mrs. Carbuncle really thought that she could have -given her heart to Lord George. Lucinda declared that she always regarded -him as a kind of supplementary father. - -"I suppose he is a year or two older than Sir Griffin," said Lizzie. - -"Lady Eustace, why should you make me unhappy?" said Lucinda. - -Then Mrs. Carbuncle explained that whereas Sir Griffin was not yet thirty, -Lord George was over forty. - -"All I can say is, he doesn't look it," urged Lady Eustace -enthusiastically. - -"Those sort of men never do," said Mrs. Carbuncle. Lord George, when he -returned, was greeted with an allusion to angels' wings, and would have -been a good deal spoiled among them were it in the nature of such an -article to receive injury. As soon as the clock had struck ten the ladies -all went away to their beds. - -Lizzie, when she was in her own room, of course found her maid waiting for -her. It was necessarily part of the religion of such a woman as Lizzie -Eustace that she could not go to bed, or change her clothes, or get up in -the morning, without the assistance of her own young woman. She would not -like to have it thought that she could stick a pin into her own belongings -without such assistance. Nevertheless it was often the case with her that -she was anxious to get rid of her girl's attendance. It had been so on -this morning and before dinner, and was so now again. She was secret in -her movements, and always had some recess in her boxes and bags and -dressing apparatuses to which she did not choose that Miss Patience -Crabstick should have access. She was careful about her letters, and very -careful about her money. And then as to that iron box in which the -diamonds were kept! Patience Crabstick had never yet seen the inside of -it. Moreover it may be said, either on Lizzie's behalf or to her -discredit, as the reader may be pleased to take it, that she was quite -able to dress herself, to brush her own hair, to take off her own clothes; -and that she was not, either by nature or education, an incapable young -woman. But that honour and glory demanded it, she would almost as lief -have had no Patience Crabstick to pry into her most private matters. All -which Crabstick knew, and would often declare her missus to be "of all -missuses the most slyest and least come-at-able." On this present night -she was very soon despatched to her own chamber. Lizzie, however, took one -careful look at the iron box before the girl was sent away. - -Crabstick, on this occasion, had not far to go to seek her own couch. -Alongside of Lizzie's larger chamber there was a small room, a dressing- -room with a bed in it, which, for this night, was devoted to Crabstick's -accommodation. Of course she departed from attendance on her mistress by -the door which opened from the one room to the other; but this had no -sooner been closed than Crabstick descended to complete the amusements of -the evening. Lizzie, when she was alone, bolted both the doors on the -inside, and then quickly retired to rest. Some short prayer she said, with -her knees close to the iron box. Then she put certain articles of property -under her pillow, her watch and chain, and the rings from her fingers, and -a packet which she had drawn from her travelling-desk, and was soon in -bed, thinking that, as she fell away to sleep, she would revolve in her -mind that question of the Corsair: would it be good to trust herself and -all her belongings to one who might perhaps take her belongings away, but -leave herself behind? The subject was not unpleasant, and while she was -considering it she fell asleep. - -It was, perhaps, about two in the morning when a man, very efficient at -the trade which he was then following, knelt outside Lady Eustace's door, -and, with a delicately-made saw, aided probably by some other equally -well-finished tools, absolutely cut out that portion of the bedroom door -on which the bolt was fastened. He must have known the spot exactly, for -he did not doubt a moment as he commenced his work; and yet there was -nothing on the exterior of the door to show where the bolt was placed. The -bit was cut out without the slightest noise, and then, when the door was -opened, was placed just inside upon the floor. The man then with perfectly -noiseless step entered the room, knelt again--just where poor Lizzie had -knelt as she said her prayers--so that he might the more easily raise the -iron box without a struggle, and left the room with it in his arms without -disturbing the lovely sleeper. He then descended the stairs, passed into -the coffee-room at the bottom of them, and handed the box through an open -window to a man who was crouching on the outside in the dark. He then -followed the box, pulled down the window, put on a pair of boots which his -friend had ready for him; and the two, after lingering a few moments in -the shade of the dark wall, retreated with their prize round a corner. The -night itself was almost pitch-dark, and very wet. It was as nearly black -with darkness as a night can be. So far, the enterprising adventurers had -been successful, and we will now leave them in their chosen retreat, -engaged on the longer operation of forcing open the iron safe. For it had -been arranged between them that the iron safe should be opened then and -there. Though the weight to him who had taken it out of Lizzie's room had -not been oppressive, as it had oppressed the tall serving-man, it might -still have been an incumbrance to gentlemen intending to travel by railway -with as little observation as possible. They were, however, well supplied -with tools, and we will leave them at their work. - -On the next morning Lizzie was awakened earlier than she had expected, and -found not only Patience Crabstick in her bedroom, but also a chambermaid, -and the wife of the manager of the hotel. The story was soon told to her. -Her room had been broken open, and her treasure was gone. The party had -intended to breakfast at their leisure, and proceed to London by a train -leaving Carlisle in the middle of the day; but they were soon disturbed -from their rest. Lady Eustace had hardly time to get her slippers from her -feet, and to wrap herself in her dressing-gown, to get rid of her -dishevelled nightcap, and make herself just fit for public view, before -the manager of the hotel, and Lord George, and the tall footman, and the -boots were in her bedroom. It was too plainly manifest to them all that -the diamonds were gone. The superintendent of the Carlisle police was -there almost as soon as the others; and following him very quickly came -the important gentleman who was at the head of the constabulary of the -county. - -Lizzie, when she first heard the news, was awe-struck rather than -outwardly demonstrative of grief. "There has been a regular plot," said -Lord George. Captain Fitzmaurice, the gallant chief, nodded his head. - -"Plot enough," said the superintendent, who did not mean to confide his -thoughts to any man, or to exempt any human being from his suspicion. The -manager of the hotel was very angry, and at first did not restrain his -anger. Did not everybody know that if articles of value were brought into -a hotel they should be handed over to the safe-keeping of the manager? He -almost seemed to think that Lizzie had stolen her own box of diamonds. - -"My dear fellow," said Lord George, "nobody is saying a word against you -or your house." - -"No, my lord; but----" - -"Lady Eustace is not blaming you, and do not you blame anybody else," said -Lord George. "Let the police do what is right." - -At last the men retreated, and Lizzie was left with Patience and Mrs. -Carbuncle. But even then she did not give way to her grief, but sat upon -the bed awe-struck and mute. "Perhaps I had better get dressed," she said -at last. - -"I feared how it might be," said Mrs. Carbuncle, holding Lizzie's hand -affectionately. - -"Yes; you said so." - -"The prize was so great." - -"I was always a-telling my lady----" began Crabstick. - -"Hold your tongue!" said Lizzie angrily. "I suppose the police will do the -best they can, Mrs. Carbuncle?" - -"Oh yes; and so will Lord George." - -"I think I'll lie down again for a little while," said Lizzie. "I feel so -sick I hardly know what to do. If I were to lie down for a little I should -be better." With much difficulty she got them to leave her. Then, before -she again undressed herself, she bolted the door that still had a bolt, -and turned the lock in the other. Having done this, she took out from -under her pillow the little parcel which had been in her desk, and, -untying it, perceived that her dear diamond necklace was perfect, and -quite safe. - -The enterprising adventurers had, indeed, stolen the iron case, but they -had stolen nothing else. The reader must not suppose that because Lizzie -had preserved her jewels, she was therefore a consenting party to the -abstraction of the box. The theft had been a genuine theft, planned with -great skill, carried out with much ingenuity, one in the perpetration of -which money had been spent, a theft which for a while baffled the police -of England, and which was supposed to be very creditable to those who had -been engaged in it. But the box, and nothing but the box, had fallen into -the hands of the thieves. - -Lizzie's silence when the abstraction of the box was made known to her, -her silence as to the fact that the necklace was at that moment within the -grasp of her own fingers, was not at first the effect of deliberate fraud. -She was ashamed to tell them that she brought the box empty from Portray, -having the diamonds in her own keeping because she had feared that the box -might be stolen. And then it occurred to her, quick as thought could -flash, that it might be well that Mr. Camperdown should be made to believe -that they had been stolen. And so she kept her secret. The reflections of -the next half-hour told her how very great would now be her difficulties. -But, as she had not disclosed the truth at first, she could hardly -disclose it now. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV - -THE JOURNEY TO LONDON - - -When we left Lady Eustace alone in her bedroom at the Carlisle hotel after -the discovery of the robbery, she had very many cares upon her mind. The -necklace was, indeed, safe under her pillow in the bed; but when all the -people were around her--her own friends, and the police, and they who were -concerned with the inn--she had not told them that it was so, but had -allowed them to leave her with the belief that the diamonds had gone with -the box. Even at this moment, as she knew well, steps were being taken to -discover the thieves, and to make public the circumstances of the robbery. -Already, no doubt, the fact that her chamber had been entered in the -night, and her jewel-box withdrawn, was known to the London police -officers. In such circumstances how could she now tell the truth? But it -might be that already had the thieves been taken. In that case would not -the truth be known, even though she should not tell it? Then she thought -for a while that she would get rid of the diamonds altogether, so that no -one should know aught of them. If she could only think of a place fit for -such purpose, she would so hide them that no human ingenuity could -discover them. Let the thieves say what they might, her word would, in -such case, be better than that of the thieves. She would declare that the -jewels had been in the box when the box was taken. The thieves would swear -that the box had been empty. She would appeal to the absence of the -diamonds, and the thieves--who would be known as thieves--would be -supposed, even by their own friends and associates, to have disposed of -the diamonds before they had been taken. There would be a mystery in all -this, and a cunning cleverness, the idea of which had in itself a certain -charm for Lizzie Eustace. She would have all the world at a loss. Mr. -Camperdown could do nothing further to harass her; and would have been, so -far, overcome. She would be saved from the feeling of public defeat in the -affair of the necklace, which would be very dreadful to her. Lord Fawn -might probably be again at her feet. And in all the fuss and rumour which -such an affair would make in London, there would be nothing of which she -need be ashamed. She liked the idea, and she had grown to be very sick of -the necklace. - -But what should she do with it? It was, at this moment, between her -fingers beneath the pillow. If she were minded, and she thought she was so -minded, to get rid of it altogether, the sea would be the place. Could she -make up her mind absolutely to destroy so large a property, it would be -best for her to have recourse to "her own broad waves," as she called them -even to herself. It was within the "friendly depths of her own rock-girt -ocean" that she should find a grave for her great trouble. But now her -back was to the sea, and she could hardly insist on returning to Portray -without exciting a suspicion that might be fatal to her. - -And then might it not be possible to get altogether quit of the diamonds -and yet to retain the power of future possession? She knew that she was -running into debt, and that money would, some day, be much needed. Her -acquaintance with Mr. Benjamin, the jeweller, was a fact often present to -her mind. She might not be able to get ten thousand pounds from Mr. -Benjamin; but if she could get eight, or six, or even five, how pleasant -would it be! If she could put away the diamonds for three or four years, -if she could so hide them that no human eyes could see them till she -should again produce them to the light, surely, after so long an interval, -they might be made available! But where should be found such hiding-place? -She understood well how great was the peril while the necklace was in her -own immediate keeping. Any accident might discover it, and if the -slightest suspicion were aroused, the police would come upon her with -violence and discover it. But surely there must be some such hiding-place, -if only she could think of it! Then her mind reverted to all the stories -she had ever heard of mysterious villainies. There must be some way of -accomplishing this thing, if she could only bring her mind to work upon it -exclusively. A hole dug deep into the ground; would not that be the place? -But then, where should the hole be dug? In what spot should she trust the -earth? If anywhere, it must be at Portray. But now she was going from -Portray to London. It seemed to her to be certain that she could dig no -hole in London that would be secret to herself. Nor could she trust -herself, during the hour or two that remained to her, to find such a hole -in Carlisle. - -What she wanted was a friend; some one that she could trust. But she had -no such friend. She could not dare to give the jewels up to Lord George. -So tempted, would not any Corsair appropriate the treasure? And if, as -might be possible, she were mistaken about him and he was no Corsair, then -would he betray her to the police. She thought of all her dearest friends, -Frank Greystock, Mrs. Carbuncle, Lucinda, Miss Macnulty, even of Patience -Crabstick, but there was no friend whom she could trust. Whatever she did -she must do alone! She began to fear that the load of thought required -would be more than she could bear. One thing, however, was certain to her: -she could not now venture to tell them all that the necklace was in her -possession, and that the stolen box had been empty. - -Thinking of all this, she went to sleep, still holding the packet tight -between her fingers, and in this position was awakened at about ten by a -knock at the door from her friend Mrs. Carbuncle. Lizzie jumped out of -bed, and admitted her friend, admitting also Patience Crabstick. "You had -better get up now, dear," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "We are all going to -breakfast." Lizzie declared herself to be so fluttered that she must have -her breakfast up-stairs. No one was to wait for her. Crabstick would go -down and fetch for her a cup of tea, and just a morsel of something to -eat. - -"You can't be surprised that I shouldn't be quite myself," said Lizzie. - -Mrs. Carbuncle's surprise did not run at all in that direction. Both Mrs. -Carbuncle and Lord George had been astonished to find how well she bore -her loss. Lord George gave her credit for real bravery. Mrs. Carbuncle-- -suggested, in a whisper, that perhaps she regarded the theft as an easy -way out of a lawsuit. - -"I suppose you know, George, they would have got it from her." Then Lord -George whistled, and, in another whisper, declared that, if the little -adventure had all been arranged by Lady Eustace herself with the view of -getting the better of Mr. Camperdown, his respect for that lady would be -very greatly raised. - -"If," said Lord George, "it turns out that she has had a couple of bravos -in her pay, like an old Italian marquis, I shall think very highly of her -indeed." This had occurred before Mrs. Carbuncle came up to Lizzie's room; -but neither of them for a moment suspected that the necklace was still -within the hotel. - -The box had been found, and a portion of the fragments were brought into -the room while the party were still at breakfast. Lizzie was not in the -room, but the news was at once taken up to her by Crabstick, together with -a pheasant's wing and some buttered toast. In a recess beneath an archway -running under the railroad, not distant from the hotel above a hundred and -fifty yards, the iron box had been found. It had been forced open, so said -the sergeant of police, with tools of the finest steel, peculiarly made -for such purpose. The sergeant of police was quite sure that the thing had -been done by London men who were at the very top of their trade. It was -manifest that nothing had been spared. Every motion of the party must have -been known to them, and probably one of the adventurers had travelled in -the same train with them. And the very doors of the bedroom in the hotel -had been measured by the man who had cut out the bolt. The sergeant of -police was almost lost in admiration; but the superintendent of police, -whom Lord George saw more than once, was discreet and silent. To the -superintendent of police it was by no means sure that Lord George himself -might not be fond of diamonds. Of a suspicion flying so delightfully high -as this, he breathed no word to any one; but simply suggested that he -should like to retain the companionship of one of the party. If Lady -Eustace could dispense with the services of the tall footman, the tall -footman might be found useful at Carlisle. It was arranged, therefore, -that the tall footman should remain; and the tall footman did remain, -though not with his own consent. The whole party, including Lady Eustace -herself and Patience Crabstick, were called upon to give their evidence to -the Carlisle magistrates before they could proceed to London. This Lizzie -did, having the necklace at that moment locked up in her desk at the inn. -The diamonds were supposed to be worth ten thousand pounds. There was to -be a lawsuit about them. She did not for a moment doubt that they were her -property. She had been very careful about the diamonds because of the -lawsuit. Fearing that Mr. Camperdown might wrest them from her possession, -she had caused the iron box to be made. She had last seen the diamonds on -the evening before her departure from Portray. She had then herself locked -them up, and she now produced the key. The lock was still so far uninjured -that the key would turn it. That was her evidence. Crabstick, with a good -deal of reticence, supported her mistress. She had seen the diamonds, no -doubt, but had not seen them often. She had seen them down at Portray, but -not for ever so long. Crabstick had very little to say about them; but the -clever superintendent was by no means sure that Crabstick did not know -more than she said. Mrs. Carbuncle and Lord George had also seen the -diamonds at Portray. There was no doubt whatever as to the diamonds having -been in the iron box; nor was there, said Lord George, any doubt but that -this special necklace had acquired so much public notice from the fact of -the threatened lawsuit, as might make its circumstances and value known to -London thieves. The tall footman was not examined, but was detained by the -police under a remand given by the magistrates. - -Much information as to what had been done oozed out in spite of the -precautions of the discreet superintendent. The wires had been put into -operation in every direction, and it had been discovered that one man whom -nobody knew had left the down mail train at Annan, and another at -Dumfries. These men had taken tickets by the train leaving Carlisle -between four and five A.M., and were supposed to have been the two -thieves. It had been nearly seven before the theft had been discovered, -and by that time not only had the men reached the towns named, but had had -time to make their way back again or further on into Scotland. At any -rate, for the present, all trace of them was lost. The sergeant of police -did not doubt but that one of these men was making his way up to London -with the necklace in his pocket. This was told to Lizzie by Lord George; -and though she was awe-struck by the danger of her situation, she -nevertheless did feel some satisfaction in remembering that she and she -only held the key of the mystery. And then as to those poor thieves! What -must have been their consternation when they found, after all the labour -and perils of the night, that the box contained no diamonds--that the -treasure was not there, and that they were nevertheless bound to save -themselves by flight and stratagem from the hands of the police! Lizzie, -as she thought of this, almost pitied the poor thieves. What a -consternation there would be among the Camperdowns and the Garnetts, among -the Mopuses and Benjamins, when the news was heard in London. Lizzie -almost enjoyed it. As her mind went on making fresh schemes on the -subject, a morbid desire of increasing the mystery took possession of her. -She was quite sure that nobody knew her secret, and that nobody as yet -could even guess it. There was great danger, but there might be delight -and even profit if she could safely dispose of the jewels before suspicion -against herself should be aroused. She could understand that a rumour -should get to the police that the box had been empty, even if the thieves -were not taken; but such rumour would avail nothing if she could only -dispose of the diamonds. As she first thought of all this, the only plan -hitherto suggested to herself would require her immediate return to -Portray. If she were at Portray she could find a spot in which she could -bury the necklace. But she was obliged to allow herself now to be hurried -up to London. When she got into the train the little parcel was in her -desk, and the key of her desk was fastened round her neck. - -They had secured a compartment for themselves from Carlisle to London, and -of course filled four seats. "As I am alive," said Lord George as soon as -the train had left the station, "that head policeman thinks that I am the -thief." Mrs. Carbuncle laughed. Lizzie protested that this was absurd. -Lucinda declared that such a suspicion would be vastly amusing. "It's a -fact," continued Lord George. "I can see it in the fellow's eye, and I -feel it to be a compliment. They are so very 'cute that they delight in -suspicions. I remember when the altar-plate was stolen from Barchester -cathedral some years ago, a splendid idea occurred to one of the police -that the bishop had taken it." - -"Really?" asked Lizzie. - -"Oh, yes--really. I don't doubt but that there is already a belief in some -of their minds that you have stolen your own diamonds for the sake of -getting the better of Mr. Camperdown." - -"But what could I do with them if I had?" asked Lizzie. - -"Sell them, of course. There is always a market for such goods." - -"But who would buy them?" - -"If you have been so clever, Lady Eustace, I'll find a purchaser for them. -One would have to go a good distance to do it--and there would be some -expense. But the thing could be done. Vienna, I should think, would be -about the place." - -"Very well, then," said Lizzie. "You won't be surprised if I ask you to -take the journey for me." Then they all laughed, and were very much -amused. It was quite agreed among them that Lizzie bore her loss very -well. - -"I shouldn't care the least for losing them," said Lizzie, "only that -Florian gave them to me. They have been such a vexation to me that to be -without them will be a comfort." Her desk had been brought into the -carriage, and was now used as a foot-stool in place of the box which was -gone. - -They arrived at Mrs. Carbuncle's house in Hertford Street quite late, -between ten and eleven; but a note had been sent from Lizzie to her cousin -Frank's address from the Euston Square station by a commissionnaire. -Indeed, two notes were sent--one to the House of Commons, and the other to -the Grosvenor Hotel. "My necklace has been stolen. Come to me early to- -morrow at Mrs. Carbuncle's house, No.--Hertford Street." And he did come, -before Lizzie was up. Crabstick brought her mistress word that Mr. -Greystock was in the parlour soon after nine o'clock. Lizzie again hurried -on her clothes so that she might see her cousin, taking care as she did, -so that though her toilet might betray haste, it should not be other than -charming. And as she dressed she endeavoured to come to some conclusion. -Would it not be best for her that she should tell everything to her -cousin, and throw herself upon his mercy, trusting to his ingenuity to -extricate her from her difficulties? She had been thinking of her position -almost through the entire night, and had remembered that at Carlisle she -had committed perjury. She had sworn that the diamonds had been left by -her in the box. And should they be found with her, it might be that they -would put her in jail for stealing them. Little mercy could she expect -from Mr. Camperdown should she fall into that gentleman's hands! But -Frank, if she would even yet tell him everything honestly, might probably -save her. - -"What is this about the diamonds?" he asked as soon as he saw her. She had -flown almost into his arms as though carried there by the excitement of -the moment. "You don't really mean that they have been stolen?" - -"I do, Frank." - -"On the journey?" - -"Yes, Frank--at the inn at Carlisle." - -"Box and all?" Then she told him the whole story--not the true story, but -the story as it was believed by all the world. She found it to be -impossible to tell him the true story. "And the box was broken open, and -left in the street?" - -"Under an archway," said Lizzie. - -"And what do the police think?" - -"I don't know what they think. Lord George says that they believe he is -the thief." - -"He knew of them," said Frank, as though he imagined that the suggestion -was not altogether absurd. - -"Oh, yes--he knew of them." - -"And what is to be done?" - -"I don't know. I've sent for you to tell me." Then Frank averred that -information should be immediately given to Mr. Camperdown. He would -himself call on Mr. Camperdown, and would also see the head of the London -police. He did not doubt but that all the circumstances were already known -in London at the police office; but it might be well that he should see -the officer. He was acquainted with the gentleman, and might perhaps learn -something. Lizzie at once acceded, and Frank went direct to Mr. -Camperdown's offices. - -"If I had lost ten thousand pounds in that way," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "I -think I should have broken my heart." Lizzie felt that her heart was -bursting rather than being broken, because the ten thousand pounds' worth -of diamonds was not really lost. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI - -LUCY MORRIS IN BROOK STREET - - -Lucy Morris went to Lady Linlithgow early in October, and was still with -Lady Linlithgow when Lizzie Eustace returned to London in January. During -these three months she certainly had not been happy. In the first place, -she had not once seen her lover. This had aroused no anger or suspicion in -her bosom against him, because the old countess had told her that she -would have no lover come to the house, and that, above all, she would not -allow a young man with whom she herself was connected to come in that -guise to her companion. "From all I hear," said Lady Linlithgow, "it's not -at all likely to be a match; and at any rate it can't go on here." Lucy -thought that she would be doing no more than standing up properly for her -lover by asserting her conviction that it would be a match; and she did -assert it bravely; but she made no petition for his presence, and bore -that trouble bravely. In the next place, Frank was not a satisfactory -correspondent. He did write to her occasionally; and he wrote also to the -old countess immediately on his return to town from Bobsborough a letter -which was intended as an answer to that which she had written to Mrs. -Greystock. What was said in that letter Lucy never knew; but she did know -that Frank's few letters to herself were not full and hearty--were not -such thorough-going love-letters as lovers write to each other when they -feel unlimited satisfaction in the work. She excused him, telling herself -that he was overworked, that with his double trade of legislator and -lawyer he could hardly be expected to write letters, that men, in respect -of letter-writing, are not as women are, and the like; but still there -grew at her heart a little weed of care, which from week to week spread -its noxious, heavy-scented leaves, and robbed her of her joyousness. To be -loved by her lover, and to feel that she was his, to have a lover of her -own to whom she could thoroughly devote herself, to be conscious that she -was one of those happy women in the world who find a mate worthy of -worship as well as love--this to her was so great a joy that even the -sadness of her present position could not utterly depress her. From day to -day she assured herself that she did not doubt and would not doubt-that -there was no cause for doubt; that she would herself be base were she to -admit any shadow of suspicion. But yet his absence, and the shortness of -those little notes, which came perhaps once a fortnight, did tell upon her -in opposition to her own convictions. Each note as it came was answered-- -instantly; but she would not write except when the notes came. She would -not seem to reproach him by writing oftener than he wrote. When he had -given her so much, and she had nothing but her confidence to give in -return, would she stint him in that? There can be no love, she said, -without confidence, and it was the pride of her heart to love him. - -The circumstances of her present life were desperately weary to her. She -could hardly understand why it was that Lady Linlithgow should desire her -presence. She was required to do nothing. She had no duties to perform, -and, as it seemed to her, was of no use to any one. The countess would not -even allow her to be of ordinary service in the house. Lady Linlithgow, as -she had said of herself, poked her own fires, carved her own meat, lit her -own candles, opened and shut the doors for herself, wrote her own letters, -and did not even like to have books read to her. She simply chose to have -some one sitting with her to whom she could speak and make little cross- -grained, sarcastic, and ill-natured remarks. There was no company at the -house in Brook Street, and when the countess herself went out, she went -out alone. Even when she had a cab to go shopping, or to make calls, she -rarely asked Lucy to go with her; and was benevolent chiefly in this--that -if Lucy chose to walk round the square or as far as the park, her -ladyship's maid was allowed to accompany her for protection. Poor Lucy -often told herself that such a life would be unbearable, were it not for -the supreme satisfaction she had in remembering her lover. And then the -arrangement had been made only for six months. She did not feel quite -assured of her fate at the end of those six months, but she believed that -there would come to her a residence in a sort of outer garden to that -sweet Elysium in which she was to pass her life. The Elysium would be -Frank's house; and the outer garden was the deanery at Bobsborough. - -Twice during the three months Lady Fawn, with two of the girls, came to -call upon her. On the first occasion she was unluckily out, taking -advantage of the protection of her ladyship's maid in getting a little -air. Lady Linlithgow had also been away, and Lady Fawn had seen no one. -Afterwards, both Lucy and her ladyship were found at home, and Lady Fawn -was full of graciousness and affection. "I dare say you've got something -to say to each other," said Lady Linlithgow, "and I'll go away." - -"Pray don't let us disturb you," said Lady Fawn. - -"You'd only abuse me if I didn't," said Lady Linlithgow. - -As soon as she was gone Lucy rushed into her friend's arms. "It is so nice -to see you again!" - -"Yes, my dear, isn't it? I did come before, you know." - -"You have been so good to me! To see you again is like the violets and -primroses." She was crouching close to Lady Fawn, with her hand in that of -her friend Lydia. "I haven't a word to say against Lady Linlithgow, but it -is like winter here, after dear Richmond." - -"Well, we think we're prettier at Richmond," said Lady Fawn. - -"There were such hundreds of things to do there," said Lucy. "After all, -what a comfort it is to have things to do." - -"Why did you come away?" said Lydia. - -"Oh, I was obliged. You mustn't scold me now that you have come to see -me." - -There were a hundred things to be said about Fawn Court and the children, -and a hundred more things about Lady Linlithgow and Bruton Street. Then, -at last, Lady Fawn asked the one important question. "And now, my dear, -what about Mr. Greystock?" - -"Oh, I don't know; nothing particular, Lady Fawn. It's just as it was, and -I am--quite satisfied." - -"You see him sometimes?" - -"No, never. I have not seen him since the last time he came down to -Richmond. Lady Linlithgow doesn't allow--followers." There was a pleasant -little spark of laughter in Lucy's eye as she said this, which would have -told to any bystander the whole story of the affection which existed -between her and Lady Fawn. - -"That's very ill-natured," said Lydia. - -"And he's a sort of a cousin, too," said Lady Fawn. - -"That's just the reason why," said Lucy, explaining. "Of course Lady -Linlithgow thinks that her sister's nephew can do better than marry her -companion. It's a matter of course she should think so. What I am most -afraid of is that the dean and Mrs. Greystock should think so too." - -No doubt the dean and Mrs. Greystock would think so. Lady Fawn was very -sure of that. Lady Fawn was one of the best women breathing, unselfish, -motherly, affectionate, appreciative, and never happy unless she was doing -good to somebody. It was her nature to be soft, and kind, and beneficent. -But she knew very well that if she had had a son, a second son, situated -as was Frank Greystock, she would not wish him to marry a girl without a -penny, who was forced to earn her bread by being a governess. The -sacrifice on Mr. Greystock's part would, in her estimation, be so great, -that she did not believe that it would be made. Womanlike, she regarded -the man as being so much more important than the woman that she could not -think that Frank Greystock would devote himself simply to such a one as -Lucy Morris. Had Lady Fawn been asked which was the better creature of the -two, her late governess or the rising barrister who had declared himself -to be that governess's lover, she would have said that no man could be -better than Lucy. She knew Lucy's worth and goodness so well that she was -ready herself to do any act of friendship on behalf of one so sweet and -excellent. For herself and her girls Lucy was a companion and friend in -every way satisfactory. But was it probable that a man of the world, such -as was Frank Greystock, a rising man, a member of Parliament, one who, as -everybody knew, was especially in want of money--was it probable that such -a man as this would make her his wife just because she was good, and -worthy, and sweet-natured? No doubt the man had said that he would do so, -and Lady Fawn's fears betrayed on her ladyship's part a very bad opinion -of men in general. It may seem to be a paradox to assert that such bad -opinion sprang from the high idea which she entertained of the importance -of men in general; but it was so. She had but one son, and of all her -children he was the least worthy; but he was more important to her than -all her daughters. Between her own girls and Lucy she hardly made any -difference; but when her son had chosen to quarrel with Lucy, it had been -necessary to send Lucy to eat her meals up-stairs. She could not believe -that Mr. Greystock should think so much of such a little girl as to marry -her. Mr. Greystock would no doubt behave very badly in not doing so; but -then men do so often behave very badly! And at the bottom of her heart she -almost thought that they might be excused for doing so. According to her -view of things, a man out in the world had so many things to think of, and -was so very important, that he could hardly be expected to act at all -times with truth and sincerity. - -Lucy had suggested that the dean and Mrs. Greystock would dislike the -marriage, and upon that hint Lady Fawn spoke. "Nothing is settled, I -suppose, as to where you are to go when the six months are over?" - -"Nothing as yet, Lady Fawn." - -"They haven't asked you to go to Bobsborough?" - -Lucy would have given the world not to blush as she answered, but she did -blush. "Nothing is fixed, Lady Fawn." - -"Something should be fixed, Lucy. It should be settled by this time, -shouldn't it, dear? What will you do without a home, if at the end of the -six months Lady Linlithgow should say that she doesn't want you any more?" - -Lucy certainly did not look forward to a condition in which Lady -Linlithgow should be the arbitress of her destiny. The idea of staying -with the countess was almost as bad to her as that of finding herself -altogether homeless. She was still blushing, feeling herself to be hot and -embarrassed. But Lady Fawn sat waiting for an answer. To Lucy there was -only one answer possible. "I will ask Mr. Greystock what I am to do." Lady -Fawn shook her head. "You don't believe in Mr. Greystock, Lady Fawn; but I -do." - -"My darling girl," said her ladyship, making the special speech for the -sake of making which she had travelled up from Richmond, "it is not -exactly a question of belief, but one of common prudence. No girl should -allow herself to depend on a man before she is married to him. By doing so -she will be apt to lose even his respect." - -"I didn't mean for money," said Lucy, hotter than ever, with her eyes full -of tears. - -"She should not be in any respect at his disposal till he has bound -himself to her at the altar. You may believe me, Lucy, when I tell you so. -It is only because I love you so that I say so." - -"I know that, Lady Fawn." - -"When your time here is over, just put up your things and come back to -Richmond. You need fear nothing with us. Frederic quite liked your way of -parting with him at last, and all that little affair is forgotten. At Fawn -Court you'll be safe; and you shall be happy, too, if we can make you -happy. It's the proper place for you." - -"Of course you'll come," said Diana Fawn. - -"You'll be the worst little thing in the world if you don't," said Lydia. -"We don't know what to do without you. Do we, mamma?" - -"Lucy will please us all by coming back to her old home," said Lady Fawn. -The tears were now streaming down Lucy's face, so that she was hardly able -to say a word in answer to all this kindness. And she did not know what -word to say. Were she to accept the offer made to her, and acknowledge -that she could do nothing better than creep back under her old friend's -wing, would she not thereby be showing that she doubted her lover? But she -could not go to the dean's house unless the dean and his wife were pleased -to take her; and, suspecting as she did that they would not be pleased, -would it become her to throw upon her lover the burden of finding for her -a home with people who did not want her? Had she been welcome at -Bobsborough, Mrs. Greystock would surely have so told her before this. -"You needn't say a word, my dear," said Lady Fawn. "You'll come, and -there's an end of it." - -"But you don't want me any more," said Lucy from amid her sobs. - -"That's just all that you know about it," said Lydia. "We do want you-- -more than anything." - -"I wonder whether I may come in now," said Lady Linlithgow, entering the -room. As it was the countess's own drawing-room, as it was now mid-winter, -and as the fire in the dining-room had been allowed, as was usual, to sink -almost to two hot coals, the request was not unreasonable. Lady Fawn was -profuse in her thanks, and immediately began to account for Lucy's tears, -pleading their dear friendship and their long absence, and poor Lucy's -emotional state of mind. Then she took her leave, and Lucy, as soon as she -had been kissed by her friends outside the drawing-room door, took herself -to her bedroom and finished her tears in the cold. - -"Have you heard the news?" said Lady Linlithgow to her companion about a -month after this. Lady Linlithgow had been out, and asked the question -immediately on her return. Lucy, of course, had heard no news. "Lizzie -Eustace has just come back to London, and has had all her jewels stolen on -the road." - -"The diamonds?" asked Lucy with amaze. - -"Yes, the Eustace diamonds! And they didn't belong to her any more than -they did to you. They've been taken any way, and from what I hear I -shouldn't be at all surprised if she had arranged the whole matter -herself." - -"Arranged that they should be stolen?" - -"Just that, my dear. It would be the very thing for Lizzie Eustace to do. -She's clever enough for anything." - -"But, Lady Linlithgow----" - -"I know all about that. Of course it would be very wicked, and if it were -found out she'd be put in the dock and tried for her life. It is just what -I expect she'll come to some of these days. She has gone and got up a -friendship with some disreputable people, and was travelling with them. -There was a man who calls himself Lord George de Bruce Carruthers. I know -him, and can remember when he was errand boy to a disreputable lawyer at -Aberdeen." This assertion was a falsehood on the part of the countess. -Lord George had never been an errand boy, and the Aberdeen lawyer--as -provincial Scotch lawyers go--had been by no means disreputable. "I'm told -that the police think that he has got them." - -"How very dreadful!" - -"Yes; it's dreadful enough. At any rate, men got into Lizzie's room at -night and took away the iron box and diamonds, and all. It may be she was -asleep at the time; but she's one of those who pretty nearly always sleep -with one eye open." - -"She can't be so bad as that, Lady Linlithgow." - -"Perhaps not. We shall see. They had just begun a lawsuit about the -diamonds, to get them back. And then all at once they're stolen. It looks -what the men call--fishy. I'm told that all the police in London are up -about it." - -On the very next day who should come to Brook Street but Lizzie Eustace -herself. She and her aunt had quarrelled, and they hated each other; but -the old woman had called upon Lizzie, advising her, as the reader will -perhaps remember, to give up the diamonds, and now Lizzie returned the -visit. "So you're here, installed in poor Macnulty's place," began Lizzie -to her old friend, the countess at the moment being out of the room. - -"I am staying with your aunt for a few months as her companion. Is it -true, Lizzie, that all your diamonds have been stolen?" Lizzie gave an -account of the robbery, true in every respect except in regard to the -contents of the box. Poor Lizzie had been wronged in that matter by the -countess, for the robbery had been quite genuine. The man had opened her -room and taken her box, and she had slept through it all. And then the -broken box had been found, and was in the hands of the police, and was -evidence of the fact. - -"People seem to think it possible," said Lizzie, "that Mr. Camperdown the -lawyer arranged it all." As this suggestion was being made, Lady -Linlithgow came in, and then Lizzie repeated the whole story of the -robbery. Though the aunt and niece were open and declared enemies, the -present circumstances were so peculiar and full of interest that -conversation for a time almost amicable took place between them. "As the -diamonds were so valuable, I thought it right, Aunt Susanna, to come and -tell you myself." - -"It's very good of you, but I'd heard it already. I was telling Miss -Morris yesterday what very odd things there are being said about it." - -"Weren't you very much frightened?" asked Lucy. - -"You see, my child, I knew nothing about it till it was all over. The man -cut the bit out of the door in the most beautiful way, without my ever -hearing the least sound of the saw." - -"And you that sleep so light," said the countess. - -"They say that perhaps something was put into the wine at dinner to make -me sleep." - -"Ah!" ejaculated the countess, who did not for a moment give up her own -erroneous suspicion; "very likely." - -"And they do say these people can do things without making the slightest -tittle of noise. At any rate the box was gone." - -"And the diamonds?" asked Lucy. - -"Oh yes, of course. And now there is such a fuss about it! The police keep -on coming to me almost every day." - -"And what do the police think?" asked Lady Linlithgow. "I am told that -they have their suspicions." - -"No doubt they have their suspicions," said Lizzie. - -"You travelled up with friends, I suppose." - -"Oh yes, with Lord George de Bruce Carruthers; and with Mrs. Carbuncle, -who is my particular friend, and with Lucinda Roanoke, who is just going -to be married to Sir Griffin Tewett. We were quite a large party." - -"And Macnulty?" - -"No. I left Miss Macnulty at Portray with my darling. They thought he had -better remain a little longer in Scotland." - -"Ah, yes; perhaps Lord George de Bruce Carruthers does not care for -babies. I can easily believe that. I wish Macnulty had been with you." - -"Why do you wish that?" said Lizzie, who already was beginning to feel -that the countess intended, as usual, to make herself disagreeable. - -"She's a stupid, dull, pig-headed creature; but one can believe what she -says." - -"And don't you believe what I say?" demanded Lizzie. - -"It's all true, no doubt, that the diamonds are gone." - -"Indeed it is." - -"But I don't know much about Lord George de Bruce Carruthers." - -"He's the brother of a marquis, anyway," said "Lizzie, who thought that -she might thus best answer the mother of a Scotch earl. - -"I remember when he was plain George Carruthers, running about the streets -of Aberdeen, and it was well with him when his shoes weren't broken at the -toes and down at heel. He earned his bread then, such as it was. Nobody -knows how he gets it now. Why does he call himself de Bruce, I wonder?" - -"Because his godfathers and godmothers gave him that name when he was made -a child of Christ, and an inheritor of the kingdom of Heaven," said -Lizzie, ever so pertly. - -"I don't believe a bit of it." - -"I wasn't there to see, Aunt Susanna; and therefore I can't swear to it. -That's his name in all the peerages, and I suppose they ought to know." - -"And what does Lord George de Bruce say about the diamonds?" - -Now it had come to pass that Lady Eustace herself did not feel altogether -sure that Lord George had not had a hand in this robbery. It would have -been a trick worthy of a genuine Corsair, to arrange and carry out such a -scheme for the appropriation of so rich a spoil. A watch or a brooch -would, of course, be beneath the notice of a good genuine Corsair--of a -Corsair who was written down in the peerage as a marquis's brother; but -diamonds worth ten thousand pounds are not to be had every day. A Corsair -must live, and if not by plunder rich as that, how then? If Lord George -had concocted this little scheme, he would naturally be ignorant of the -true event of the robbery till he should meet the humble executors of his -design, and would, as Lizzie thought, have remained' unaware of the truth -till his arrival in London. That he had been ignorant of the truth during -the journey was evident to her. But they had now been three days in -London, during which she had seen him once. At that interview he had been -sullen and almost cross, and had said next to nothing about the robbery. -He made but one remark about it. "I have told the chief man here," he -said, "that I shall be ready to give any evidence in my power when called -upon. Till then I shall take no further steps in the matter. I have been -asked questions that should not have been asked." In saying this he had -used a tone which prevented further conversation on the subject, but -Lizzie, as she thought of it all, remembered his jocular remark, made in -the railway carriage, as to the suspicion which had already been expressed -on the matter in regard to himself. If he had been the perpetrator, and -had then found that he had only stolen the box, how wonderful would be the -mystery! - -"He hasn't got anything to say," replied Lizzie to the question of the -countess. - -"And who is your Mrs. Carbuncle?" asked the old woman. - -"A particular friend of mine with whom I am staying at present. You don't -go about a great deal, Aunt Linlithgow, but surely you must have met Mrs. -Carbuncle." - -"I'm an ignorant old woman, no doubt. My dear, I'm not at all surprised at -your losing your diamonds. The pity is that they weren't your own." - -"They were my own." - -"The loss will fall on you, no doubt, because the Eustace people will make -you pay for them. You'll have to give up half your jointure for your life. -That's what it will come to. To think of your travelling about with those -things in a box!" - -"They were my own, and I had a right to do what I liked with them. Nobody -accuses you of taking them." - -"That's quite true. Nobody will accuse me. I suppose Lord George has left -England for the benefit of his health. It would not at all surprise me if -I were to hear that Mrs. Carbuncle had followed him; not in the least." - -"You're just like yourself, Aunt Susanna," said Lizzie, getting up and -taking her leave. "Good-by, Lucy. I hope you're happy and comfortable -here. Do you ever see a certain friend of ours now?" - -"If you mean Mr. Greystock, I haven't seen him since I left Fawn Court," -said Lucy, with dignity. - -When Lizzie was gone Lady Linlithgow spoke her mind freely about her -niece. "Lizzie Eustace won't come to any good. When I heard that she was -engaged to that prig, Lord Fawn, I had some hopes that she might be kept -out of harm. That's all over, of course. When he heard about the necklace -he wasn't going to put his neck into that scrape. But now she's getting -among such a set that nothing can save her. She has taken to hunting, and -rides about the country like a madwoman." - -"A great many ladies hunt," said Lucy. - -"And she's got hold of this Lord George, and of that horrid American woman -that nobody knows anything about. They've got the diamonds between them, I -don't doubt. I'll bet you sixpence that the police find out all about it, -and that there is some terrible scandal. The diamonds were no more hers -than they were mine, and she'll be made to pay for them." - -The necklace, then meanwhile, was still locked up in Lizzie's desk--with a -patent Bramah key--in Mrs. Carbuncle's house, and was a terrible trouble -to our unhappy friend. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII - -MATCHING PRIORY - - -Before the end of January everybody in London had heard of the great -robbery at Carlisle; and most people had heard also that there was -something very peculiar in the matter--something more than a robbery. -Various rumours were afloat. It had become widely known that the diamonds -were to be the subject of litigation between the young widow and the -trustees of the Eustace estate; and it was known also that Lord Fawn had -engaged himself to marry the widow, and had then retreated from his -engagement simply on account of this litigation. There were strong parties -formed in the matter; whom we may call Lizzieites and Antilizzieites. The -Lizzieites were of opinion that poor Lady Eustace was being very ill- -treated--that the diamonds did probably belong to her, and that Lord Fawn, -at any rate, clearly ought to be her own. It was worthy of remark that -these Lizzieites were all of them Conservatives. Frank Greystock had -probably set the party on foot; and it was natural that political -opponents should believe that a noble young Under-Secretary of State on -the Liberal side--such as Lord Fawn--had misbehaved himself. When the -matter at last became of such importance as to demand leading articles in -the newspapers, those journals which had devoted themselves to upholding -the conservative politicians of the day were very heavy indeed upon Lord -Fawn. The whole force of the Government, however, was Antilizzieite; and -as the controversy advanced, every good Liberal became aware that there -was nothing so wicked, so rapacious, so bold, or so cunning but that Lady -Eustace might have done it, or caused it to be done, without delay, -without difficulty, and without scruple. Lady Glencora Palliser for a -while endeavoured to defend Lizzie in Liberal circles--from generosity -rather than from any real belief, and instigated, perhaps, by a feeling -that any woman in society who was capable of doing anything extraordinary -ought to be defended. But even Lady Glencora was forced to abandon her -generosity, and to confess, on behalf of her party, that Lizzie Eustace -was--a very wicked young woman indeed. All this, no doubt, grew out of the -diamonds, and chiefly arose from the robbery; but there had been enough of -notoriety attached to Lizzie before the affair at Carlisle to make people -fancy that they had understood her character long before that. - -The party assembled at Matching Priory, a country house belonging to Mr. -Palliser, in which Lady Glencora took much delight, was not large, because -Mr. Palliser's uncle, the Duke of Omnium, who was with them, was now a -very old man, and one who did not like very large gatherings of people. -Lord and Lady Chiltern were there--that Lord Chiltern who had been known -so long and so well in the hunting counties of England, and that Lady -Chiltern who had been so popular in London as the beautiful Violet -Effingham; and Mr. and Mrs. Grey were there, very particular friends of -Mr. Palliser's. Mr. Grey was now sitting for the borough of Silverbridge, -in which the Duke of Omnium was still presumed to have a controlling -influence, in spite of all Reform bills, and Mrs. Grey was in some distant -way connected with Lady Glencora. And Madame Max Goesler was there--a lady -whose society was still much affected by the old duke; and Mr. and Mrs. -Bonteen--who had been brought there, not perhaps altogether because they -were greatly loved, but in order that the gentleman's services might be -made available by Mr. Palliser in reference to some great reform about to -be introduced in monetary matters. Mr. Palliser, who was now Chancellor of -the Exchequer, was intending to alter the value of the penny. Unless the -work should be too much for him, and he should die before he had -accomplished the self-imposed task, the future penny was to be made, under -his auspices, to contain five farthings, and the shilling ten pennies. It -was thought that if this could be accomplished, the arithmetic of the -whole world would be so simplified that henceforward the name of Palliser -would be blessed by all schoolboys, clerks, shopkeepers, and financiers. -But the difficulties were so great that Mr. Palliser's hair was already -grey from toil, and his shoulders bent by the burden imposed upon them. -Mr. Bonteen, with two private secretaries from the Treasury, was now at -Matching to assist Mr. Palliser; and it was thought that both Mr. and Mrs. -Bonteen were near to madness under the pressure of the five-farthing -penny. Mr. Bonteen had remarked to many of his political friends that -those two extra farthings that could not be made to go into the shilling -would put him into his cold grave before the world would know what he had -done--or had rewarded him for it with a handle to his name, and a pension. -Lord Fawn was also at Matching--a suggestion having been made to Lady -Glencora by some leading Liberals that he should be supported in his -difficulties by her hospitality. - -The mind of Mr. Palliser himself was too deeply engaged to admit of its -being interested in the great necklace affair; but, of all the others -assembled, there was not one who did not listen anxiously for news on the -subject. As regarded the old duke, it had been found to be quite a -godsend; and from post to post as the facts reached Matching they were -communicated to him. And, indeed, there were some there who would not wait -for the post, but had the news about poor Lizzie's diamonds down by the -wires. The matter was of the greatest moment to Lord Fawn, and Lady -Glencora was perhaps justified, on his behalf, in demanding a preference -for her affairs over the messages which were continually passing between -Matching and the Treasury respecting those two ill-conditioned farthings. - -"Duke," she said, entering rather abruptly the small, warm, luxurious room -in which her husband's uncle was passing the morning--"Duke, they say now -that after all the diamonds were not in the box when it was taken out of -the room at Carlisle." The duke was reclining in an easy-chair, with his -head leaning forward on his breast, and Madame Goesler was reading to him. -It was now three o'clock, and the old man had been brought down to this -room after his breakfast. Madame Goesler was reading the last famous new -novel, and the duke was dozing. That, probably, was the fault neither of -the reader nor of the novelist, as the duke was wont to doze in these -days. But Lady Glencora's tidings awakened him completely. She had the -telegram in her hand--so that he could perceive that the very latest news -was brought to him. - -"The diamonds not in the box!" he said--pushing his head a little more -forward in his eagerness, and sitting with the extended fingers of his two -hands touching each other. - -"Barrington Erle says that Major Mackintosh is almost sure the diamonds -were not there." Major Mackintosh was an officer very high in the police -force, whom everybody trusted implicitly, and as to whom the outward world -believed that he could discover the perpetrators of any iniquity, if he -would only take the trouble to look into it. Such was the pressing nature -of his duties that he found himself compelled in one way or another to -give up about sixteen hours a day to them; but the outer world accused him -of idleness. There was nothing he couldn't find out--only he would not -give himself the trouble to find out all the things that happened. Two or -three newspapers had already been very hard upon him in regard to the -Eustace diamonds. Such a mystery as that, they said, he ought to have -unravelled long ago. That he had not unravelled it yet was quite certain. - -"The diamonds not in the box!" said the duke. - -"Then she must have known it," said Madame Goesler. - -"That doesn't quite follow, Madame Max," said Lady Glencora. - -"But why shouldn't the diamonds have been in the box?" asked the duke. As -this was the first intimation given to Lady Glencora of any suspicion that -the diamonds had not been taken with the box, and as this had been -received by telegraph, she could not answer the duke's question with any -clear exposition of her own. She put up her hands and shook her head. -"What does Plantagenet think about it?" asked the duke. Plantagenet -Palliser was the full name of the duke's nephew and heir. The duke's mind -was evidently much disturbed. - -"He doesn't think that either the box or the diamonds were ever worth five -farthings," said Lady Glencora. - -"The diamonds not in the box!" repeated the duke. "Madame Max, do you -believe that the diamonds were not in the box?" Madame Goesler shrugged -her shoulders and made no answer; but the shrugging of her shoulders was -quite satisfactory to the duke, who always thought that Madame Goesler did -everything better than anybody else. Lady Glencora stayed with her uncle -for the best part of an hour, and every word spoken was devoted to Lizzie -and her necklace; but as this new idea had been broached, and as they had -no other information than that conveyed in the telegram, very little light -could be thrown upon it. But on the next morning there came a letter from -Barrington Erie to Lady Glencora, which told so much, and hinted so much -more, that it will be well to give it to the reader. - -"TRAVELLERS', 29 Jan., 186-. - -"MY DEAR LADY GLENCORA: I hope you got my telegram yesterday. I had just -seen Mackintosh, on whose behalf, however, I must say that he told me as -little as he possibly could. It is leaking out, however, on every side, -that the police believe that when the box was taken out of the room at -Carlisle, the diamonds were not in it. As far as I can learn, they ground -this suspicion on the fact that they cannot trace the stones. They say -that, if such a lot of diamonds had been through the thieves' market in -London, they would have left some track behind them. As far as I can -judge, Mackintosh thinks that Lord George has them, but that her ladyship -gave them to him; and that this little game of the robbery at Carlisle was -planned to put John Eustace and the lawyers off the scent. If it should -turn out that the box was opened before it left Portray, that the door of -her ladyship's room was cut by her ladyship's self, or by his lordship -with her ladyship's aid, and that the fragments of the box were carried -out of the hotel by his lordship in person, it will altogether have been -so delightful a plot, that all concerned in it ought to be canonised or at -least allowed to keep their plunder. An old detective told me that the -opening of the box under the arch of the railway, in an exposed place, -could hardly have been executed so neatly as was done; that no thief so -situated would have given the time necessary to it; and that, if there had -been thieves at all at work, they would have been traced. Against this, -there is the certain fact, as I have heard from various men engaged in the -inquiry, that certain persons among the community of thieves are very much -at loggerheads with each other, the higher, or creative department in -thiefdom, accusing the lower or mechanical department of gross treachery -in having appropriated to its own sole profit plunder, for the taking of -which it had undertaken to receive a certain stipulated price. But then it -may be the case that his lordship and her ladyship have set such a rumour -abroad for the sake of putting the police off the scent. Upon the whole, -the little mystery is quite delightful; and has put the ballot, and poor -Mr. Palliser's five-farthinged penny, quite out of joint. Nobody now cares -for anything except the Eustace diamonds. Lord George, I am told, has -offered to fight everybody or anybody, beginning with Lord Fawn and ending -with Major Mackintosh. Should he be innocent, which of course is possible, -the thing must be annoying. I should not at all wonder myself if it should -turn out that her ladyship left them in Scotland. The place there, -however, has been searched, in compliance with an order from the police -and by her ladyship's consent. - -"Don't let Mr. Palliser quite kill himself. I hope the Bonteen plan -answers. I never knew a man who could find more farthings in a shilling -that. Mr. Bonteen, Remember me very kindly to the duke, and pray enable -poor Fawn to keep up his spirits. If he likes to arrange a meeting with -Lord George, I shall be only too happy to be his friend. You remember our -last duel. Chiltern is with you, and can put Fawn up to the proper way of -getting over to Flanders, and of returning, should he chance to escape. - -"Yours always most faithfully, - -"BARRINGTON ERLE - -"Of course I'll keep you posted in everything respecting the necklace till -you come to town yourself." - -The whole of this letter Lady Glencora read to the duke, to Lady Chiltern, -and to Madame Goesler; and the principal contents of it she repeated to -the entire company. It was certainly the general belief at Matching that -Lord George had the diamonds in his possession, either with or without the -assistance of their late fair possessor. - -The duke was struck with awe when he thought of all the circumstances. -"The brother of a marquis!" he said to his nephew's wife. "It's such a -disgrace to the peerage!" - -"As for that, duke," said Lady Glencora, "the peerage is used to it by -this time." - -"I never-heard of such an affair as this before." - -"I don't see why the brother of a marquis shouldn't turn thief as well as -anybody else. They say he hasn't got anything of his own; and I suppose -that is what makes men steal other people's property. Peers go into trade, -and peeresses gamble on the Stock Exchange. Peers become bankrupt, and the -sons of peers run away, just like other men. I don't see why all -enterprises should not be open to them. But to think of that little -purring cat, Lady Eustace, having been so very-very clever! It makes me -quite envious." - -All this took place in the morning--that is,--about two o'clock; but after -dinner the subject became general. There might be some little reticence in -regard to Lord Fawn's feelings, but it was not sufficient to banish a -subject so interesting from the minds and lips of the company. "The Tewett -marriage is to come off, after all," said Mrs. Bonteen. "I've a letter -from dear Mrs. Rutter, telling me so as a fact." - -"I wonder whether Miss Roanoke will be allowed to wear one or two of the -diamonds at the wedding," suggested one of the private secretaries. - -"Nobody will dare to wear a diamond at all next season," said Lady -Glencora. "As for my own, I sha'n't think of having them out. I should -always feel that I was being inspected." - -"Unless they unravel the mystery," said Madame Goesler. - -"I hope they won't do that," said Lady Glencora. "The play is too good to -come to an end so soon. If we hear that Lord George is engaged to Lady -Eustace, nothing, I suppose, can be done to stop the marriage." - -"Why shouldn't she marry if she pleases?" asked Mr. Palliser. - -"I've not the slightest objection to her being married. I hope she will, -with all my heart. I certainly think she should have her husband after -buying him at such a price. I suppose Lord Fawn won't forbid the banns." -These last words were only whispered to her next neighbour, Lord Chiltern; -but poor Lord Fawn saw the whisper, and was aware that it must have had -reference to his condition. - -On the next morning there came further news. The police had asked -permission from their occupants to search the rooms in which lived Lady -Eustace and Lord George, and in each case the permission had been refused. -So said Barrington Erle in his letter to Lady Glencora. Lord George had -told the applicant, very roughly, that nobody should touch an article -belonging to him without a search-warrant. If any magistrate would dare to -give such a warrant, let him do it. "I'm told that Lord George acts the -indignant madman uncommonly well," said Barrington Erle in his letter. As -for poor Lizzie, she had fainted when the proposition was made to her. The -request was renewed as soon as she had been brought to herself; and then -she refused, on the advice, as she said, of her cousin, Mr. Grey stock. -Barrington Erie went on to say that the police were very much blamed. It -was believed that no information could be laid before a magistrate -sufficient to justify a search-warrant; and, in such circumstances, no -search should have been attempted. Such was the public verdict, as -declared in Barrington Erle's last letter to Lady Glencora. - -Mr. Palliser was of opinion that the attempt to search the lady's house -was iniquitous. Mr. Bonteen shook his head, and rather thought that, if he -were Home Secretary, he would have had the search made. Lady Chiltern said -that if policemen came to her, they might search everything she had in the -world. Mrs. Grey reminded them that all they really knew of the -unfortunate woman was that her jewel-box had been stolen out of her -bedroom at her hotel. Madame Goesler was of opinion that a lady who could -carry such a box about the country with her deserved to have it stolen. -Lord Fawn felt himself obliged to confess that he agreed altogether with -Madame Goesler. Unfortunately, he had been acquainted with the lady, and -now was constrained to say that her conduct had been such as to justify -the suspicions of the police. - -"Of course we all suspect her," said Lady Glencora, "and of course we -suspect Lord George too; and Mrs. Carbuncle and Miss Roanoke. But then, -you know, if I were to lose my diamonds, people would suspect me just the -same, or perhaps Plantagenet. It is so delightful to think that a woman -has stolen her own property, and put all the police into a state of -ferment." - -Lord Chiltern declared himself to be heartily sick of the whole subject; -and Mr. Grey, who was a very just man, suggested that the evidence, as -yet, against anybody, was very slight. - -"Of course it's slight," said Lady Glencora. "If it were more than slight, -it would be just like any other robbery, and there would be nothing in -it." - -On the same morning Mrs. Bonteen received a second letter from her friend -Mrs. Rutter. The Tewett marriage had been certainly broken off. Sir -Griffin had been very violent, misbehaving himself grossly in Mrs. -Carbuncle's house, and Miss Roanoke had declared that under no -circumstances would she ever speak to him again. It was Mrs. Rutter's -opinion, however, that this violence had been "put on" by Sir Griffin, who -was desirous of escaping from the marriage because of the affair of the -diamonds. - -"He's very much bound up with Lord George," said Mrs. Rutter, "and is -afraid that he may be implicated." - -"In my opinion he's quite right," said Lord Fawn. - -All these matters were told to the duke by Lady Glencora and Madame -Goesler in the recesses of his grace's private room; for the duke was now -infirm, and did not dine in company unless the day was very auspicious to -him. But in the evening he would creep into the drawing-room, and on this -occasion he had a word to say about the Eustace diamonds to every one in -the room. It was admitted by them all that the robbery had been a godsend -in the way of amusing the duke. - -"Wouldn't have her boxes searched, you know," said the duke. "That looks -uncommonly suspicious. Perhaps, Lady Chiltern, we shall hear to-morrow -morning something more about it." - -"Poor dear duke," said Lady Chiltern to her husband. - -"Doting old idiot!" he replied. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII - -LIZZIE'S CONDITION - - -When such a man as Barrington Erle undertakes to send information to such -a correspondent as Lady Glencora in reference to such a matter as Lady -Eustace's diamonds, he is bound to be full rather than accurate. We may -say, indeed, that perfect accuracy would be detrimental rather than -otherwise, and would tend to disperse that feeling of mystery which is so -gratifying. No suggestion had in truth been made to Lord George de Bruce -Carruthers as to the searching of his lordship's boxes and desks. That -very eminent detective officer, Mr. Bunfit, had, however, called upon Lord -George more than once, and Lord George had declared very plainly that he -did not like it. - -"If you'll have the kindness to explain to me what it is you want, I'll be -much obliged to you," Lord George had said to Mr. Bunfit. - -"Well, my lord," said Bunfit, "what we want is these diamonds." - -"Do you believe that I've got them?" - -"A man in my situation, my lord, never believes anything. "We has to -suspect, but we never believes." - -"You suspect that I stole them?" - -"No, my lord; I didn't say that. But things are very queer; aren't they?" -The immediate object of Mr. Bunfit's visit on this morning had been to -ascertain from Lord George whether it was true that his lordship had been -with Messrs. Harter & Benjamin, the jewellers, on the morning after his -arrival in town. No one from the police had as yet seen either Harter or -Benjamin in connection with this robbery; but it may not be too much to -say that the argus eyes of Major Mackintosh were upon Messrs. Harter & -Benjamin's whole establishment, and it was believed that if the jewels -were in London they were locked up in some box within that house. It was -thought more than probable by Major Mackintosh and his myrmidons that the -jewels were already at Hamburg; and by this time, as the major had -explained to Mr. Camperdown, every one of them might have been reset, or -even recut. But it was known that Lord George had been at the house of -Messrs. Harter & Benjamin early on the morning after his return to town, -and the ingenuous Mr. Bunfit, who, by reason of his situation, never -believed anything and only suspected, had expressed a very strong opinion -to Major Mackintosh that the necklace had in truth been transferred to the -Jews on that morning. That there was nothing "too hot or too heavy" for -Messrs. Harter & Benjamin, was quite a creed with the police of the west -end of London. Might it not be well to ask Lord George what he had to say -about the visit? Should Lord George deny the visit, such denial would go -far to confirm Mr. Bunfit. The question was asked, and Lord George did not -deny the visit. - -"Unfortunately they hold acceptances of mine," said Lord George, "and I am -often there." - -"We know as they have your lordship's name to paper," said Mr. Bunfit, -thanking Lord George, however, for his courtesy. It may be understood that -all this would be unpleasant to Lord George, and that he should be -indignant almost to madness. - -But Mr. Erle's information, though certainly defective in regard to Lord -George de Bruce Carruthers, had been more correct when he spoke of the -lady. An interview that was very terrible to poor Lizzie did take place -between her and Mr. Bunfit in Mrs. Carbuncle's house on Tuesday the 3Oth -of January. There had been many interviews between Lizzie and various -members of the police force in reference to the diamonds, but the -questions put to her had always been asked on the supposition that she -might have mislaid the necklace. Was it not possible that she might have -thought that she locked it up, but have omitted to place it in the box? As -long as these questions had reference to a possible oversight in Scotland, -to some carelessness which she might have committed on the night before -she left her home, Lizzie upon the whole seemed rather to like the idea. -It certainly was possible. She believed thoroughly that the diamonds had -been locked by her in the box, but she acknowledged that it might be the -case that they had been left on one side. This had happened when the -police first began to suspect that the necklace had not been in the box -when it was carried out of the Carlisle hotel, but before it had occurred -to them that Lord George had been concerned in the robbery, and possibly -Lady Eustace herself. Men had been sent down from London, of course at -considerable expense, and Portray Castle had been searched, with the -consent of its owner, from the weathercock to the foundation-stone, much -to the consternation of Miss Macnulty and to the delight of Andy Gowran. -No trace of the diamonds was found, and Lizzie had so far fraternised with -the police. But when Mr. Bunfit called upon her, perhaps for the fifth or -sixth time, and suggested that he should be allowed, with the assistance -of the female whom he had left behind him in the hall, to search all her -ladyship's boxes, drawers, presses, and receptacles in London, the thing -took a very different aspect. "You see, my lady," said Mr. Bunfit, -excusing the peculiar nature of his request, "it may have got anywhere -among your ladyship's things unbeknownst." Lady Eustace and Mrs. Carbuncle -were at the time sitting together, and Mrs. Carbuncle was the first to -protest. If Mr. Bunfit thought that he was going to search her things, Mr. -Bunfit was very much mistaken. What she had suffered about this necklace -no man or woman knew, and she meant that there should be an end of it. It -was her opinion that the police should have discovered every stone of it -days and days ago. At any rate her house was her own, and she gave Mr. -Bunfit to understand that his repeated visits were not agreeable to her. -But when Mr. Bunfit, without showing the slightest displeasure at the evil -things said of him, suggested that the search should be confined to the -rooms used exclusively by Lady Eustace, Mrs. Carbuncle absolutely changed -her views, and recommended that he should be allowed to have his way. - -At that moment the condition of poor Lizzie Eustace was very sad. He who -recounts these details has scorned to have a secret between himself and -his readers. The diamonds were at this moment locked up within Lizzie's -desk. For the last three weeks they had been there--if it may not be more -truly said that they were lying heavily on her heart. For three weeks had -her mind with constant stretch been working on that point--whither should -she take the diamonds, and what should she do with them? A certain very -wonderful strength she did possess, or she could not have endured the -weight of so terrible an anxiety; but from day to day the thing became -worse and worse with her, as gradually she perceived that suspicion was -attached to herself. Should she confide the secret to Lord George, or to -Mrs. Carbuncle, or to Frank Greystock? She thought she could have borne it -all if only some one would have borne it with her. But when the moments -came in which such confidence might be made, her courage failed her. Lord -George she saw frequently; but he was unsympathetic and almost rough with -her. She knew that he also was suspected, and she was almost disposed to -think that he had planned the robbery. If it were so, if the robbery had -been his handiwork, it was not singular that he should be unsympathetic -with the owner and probable holder of the prey which he had missed. -Nevertheless Lizzie thought that if he would have been soft with her, like -a dear, good, genuine Corsair, for half an hour, she would have told him -all, and placed the necklace in his hands. And there were moments in which -she almost resolved to tell her secret to Mrs. Carbuncle. She had stolen -nothing; so she averred to herself. She had intended only to defend and -save her own property. Even the lie that she had told, and the telling of -which was continued from day to day, had in a measure been forced upon her -by circumstances. She thought that Mrs. Carbuncle would sympathise with -her in that feeling which had prevented her from speaking the truth when -first the fact of the robbery was made known to herself in her own -bedroom. Mrs. Carbuncle was a lady who told many lies, as Lizzie well -knew, and surely could not be horrified at a lie told in such -circumstances. But it was not in Lizzie's nature to trust a woman. Mrs. -Carbuncle would tell Lord George, and that would destroy everything. When -she thought of confiding everything to her cousin, it was always in his -absence. The idea became dreadful to her as soon as he was present. She -could not dare to own to him that she had sworn falsely to the magistrate -at Carlisle. And so the burden had to be borne, increasing every hour in -weight, and the poor creature's back was not broad enough to bear it. She -thought of the necklace every waking minute, and dreamed of it when she -slept. She could not keep herself from unlocking her desk and looking at -it twenty times a day, although she knew the peril of such nervous -solicitude. If she could only rid herself of it altogether, she was sure -now that she would do so. She would throw it into the ocean fathoms deep, -if only she could find herself alone upon the ocean. But she felt that, -let her go where she might, she would be watched. She might declare to- -morrow her intention of going to Ireland, or, for that matter, to America. -But, were she to do so, some horrid policeman would be on her track. The -iron box had been a terrible nuisance to her; but the iron box had been as -nothing compared to the necklace locked up in her desk. From day to day -she meditated a plan of taking the thing out into the streets and dropping -it in the dark; but she was sure that were she to do so some one would -have watched her while she dropped it. She was unwilling to trust her old -friend Mr. Benjamin; but in these days her favourite scheme was to offer -the diamonds for sale to him at some very low price. If he would help her, -they might surely be got out of their present hiding-place into his hands. -Any man would be powerful to help if there were any man whom she could -trust. In furtherance of this scheme she went so far as to break a brooch ---a favourite brooch of her own--in order that she might have an excuse -for calling at the jewellers'. But even this she postponed from day to -day. Circumstances, as they had occurred, had taught her to believe that -the police could not insist on breaking open her desk unless some evidence -could be brought against her. There was no evidence, and her desk was so -far safe. But the same circumstances had made her understand that she was -already suspected of some intrigue with reference to the diamonds--though -of what she was suspected she did not clearly perceive. As far as she -could divine the thoughts of her enemies, they did not seem to suppose -that the diamonds were in her possession. It seemed to be believed by -those enemies that they had passed into the hands of Lord George. As long -as her enemies were on a scent so false, might it not be best that she -should remain quiet? - -But all the ingenuity, the concentrated force, and trained experience of -the police of London would surely be too great and powerful for her in the -long run. She could not hope to keep her secret and the diamonds till they -should acknowledge themselves to be baffled. And then she was aware of a -morbid desire on her own part to tell the secret--of a desire that -amounted almost to a disease. It would soon burst her bosom open, unless -she could share her knowledge with some one. And yet, as she thought of it -all, she told herself that she had no friend so fast and true as to -justify such confidence. She was ill with anxiety, and--worse than that-- -Mrs. Carbuncle knew that she was ill. It was acknowledged between them -that this affair of the necklace was so terrible as to make a woman ill. -Mrs. Carbuncle at present had been gracious enough to admit so much as -that. But might it not be probable that Mrs. Carbuncle would come to -suspect that she did not know the whole secret? Mrs. Carbuncle had -already, on more than one occasion, said a little word or two which had -been unpleasant. Such was Lizzie's condition when Mr. Bunfit came, with -his authoritative request to be allowed to inspect Lizzie's boxes--and -when Mrs. Carbuncle, having secured her own privacy, expressed her opinion -that Mr. Bunfit should be allowed to do as he desired. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX - -BUNFIT AND GAGER - - -As soon as the words were out of Mrs. Carbuncle's mouth--those ill-natured -words in which she expressed her assent to Mr. Bunfit's proposition that a -search should be made after the diamonds among all the possessions of Lady -Eustace which were now lodged in her own house--poor Lizzie's courage -deserted her entirely. She had been very courageous; for, though her -powers of endurance had sometimes nearly deserted her, though her heart -had often failed her, still she had gone on and had endured and been -silent. To endure and to be silent in her position did require great -courage. She was all alone in her misery, and could see no way out of it. -The diamonds were heavy as a load of lead within her bosom. And yet she -had persevered. Now, as she heard Mrs. Carbuncle's words, her courage -failed her. There came some obstruction in her throat, so that she could -not speak. She felt as though her heart were breaking. She put out both -her hands and could not draw them back again. She knew that she was -betraying herself by her weakness. She could just hear the man explaining -that the search was merely a thing of ceremony--just to satisfy everybody -that there was no mistake--and then she fainted. So far, Barrington Erle -was correct in the information given by him to Lady Glencora. She pressed -one hand against her heart, gasped for breath, and then fell back upon the -sofa. Perhaps she could have done nothing better. Had the fainting been -counterfeit, the measure would have shown ability. But the fainting was -altogether true. Mrs. Carbuncle first, and then Mr. Bunfit, hurried from -their seats to help her. To neither of them did it occur for a moment that -the fit was false. - -"The whole thing has been too much for her," said Mrs. Carbuncle severely, -ringing the bell at the same time for further aid. - -"No doubt--mum; no doubt. We has to see a deal of this sort of thing. Just -a little air, if you please, mum--and as much water as'd go to christen a -babby. That's always best, mum." - -"If you'll have the kindness to stand on one side," said Mrs. Carbuncle, -as she stretched Lizzie on the sofa. - -"Certainly, mum," said Bunfit, standing erect by the wall, but not showing -the slightest disposition to leave the room. - -"You had better go," said Mrs. Carbuncle--loudly and very severely. - -"I'll just stay and see her come to, mum. I won't do her a morsel of harm, -mum. Sometimes they faints at the very first sight of such as we; but we -has to bear it. A little more air, if you could, mum--and just dash the -water on in drops like. They feels a drop more than they would a bucket- -full--and then when they comes to they hasn't to change theirselves." - -Bunfit's advice, founded on much experience, was good, and Lizzie -gradually came to herself and opened her eyes. She immediately clutched at -her breast, feeling for her key. She found it unmoved, but before her -finger had recognised the touch, her quick mind had told her how wrong the -movement had been. It had been lost upon Mrs. Carbuncle, but not on Mr. -Bunfit. He did not at once think that she had the diamonds in her desk; -but he felt almost sure that there was something in her possession-- -probably some document--which, if found, would place him on the track of -the diamonds. But he could not compel a search. "Your ladyship'll soon be -better," said Bunfit graciously. Lizzie endeavoured to smile as she -expressed her assent to this proposition. "As I was saying to the elder -lady----" - -"Saying to who, sir?" exclaimed Mrs. Carbuncle, rising up in wrath. "Elder -indeed!" - -"As I was venturing to explain, these fits of fainting come often in our -way. Thieves, mum--that is, the regulars--don't mind us a bit, and the -women is more hardeneder than the men; but when we has to speak to a lady, -it is so often that she goes off like that! I've known'm do it just at -being looked at." - -"Don't you think, sir, that you'd better leave us now?" said Mrs. -Carbuncle. - -"Indeed you had," said Lizzie. "I'm fit for nothing just at present." - -"We won't disturb your ladyship the least in life," said Mr. Bunfit, "if -you'll only just let us have your keys. Your servant can be with us, and -we won't move one tittle of anything." But Lizzie, though she was still -suffering that ineffable sickness which always accompanies and follows a -real fainting-fit, would not surrender her keys. Already had an excuse for -not doing so occurred to her. But for a while she seemed to hesitate. "I -don't demand it, Lady Eustace," said Mr. Bunfit, "but if you'll allow me -to say so, I do think it will look better for your ladyship." - -"I can take no step without consulting my cousin, Mr. Greystock," said -Lizzie; and having thought of this she adhered to it. The detective -supplied her with many reasons for giving up her keys, alleging that it -would do no harm, and that her refusal would create infinite suspicions. -But Lizzie had formed her answer and stuck to it. She always consulted her -cousin, and always acted upon his advice. He had already cautioned her not -to take any steps without his sanction. She would do nothing till he -consented. If Mr. Bunfit would see Mr. Greystock, and if Mr. Greystock -would come to her and tell her to submit--she would submit. Ill as she -was, she could be obstinate, and Bunfit left the house without having been -able to finger that key which he felt sure that Lady Eustace carried -somewhere on her person. - -As he walked back to his own quarters in Scotland Yard, Bunfit was by no -means dissatisfied with his morning's work. He had not expected to find -anything with Lady Eustace, and, when she fainted, had not hoped to be -allowed to search. But he was now sure that her ladyship was possessed, at -any rate, of some guilty knowledge. Bunfit was one of those who, almost -from the first, had believed that the box was empty when taken out of the -hotel. "Stones like them must turn up more or less," was Bunfit's great -argument. That the police should already have found the stones themselves -was not perhaps probable; but had any ordinary thieves had them in their -hands, they could not have been passed on without leaving a trace behind -them. It was his opinion that the box had been opened and the door cut by -the instrumentality and concurrence of Lord George de Bruce Carruthers, -with the assistance of some one well-skilled mechanical thief. Nothing -could be made out of the tall footman. Indeed, the tall footman had -already been set at liberty, although he was known to have evil -associates; and the tall footman was now loud in demanding compensation -for the injury done to him. Many believed that the tall footman had been -concerned in the matter, many, that is, among the experienced craftsmen of -the police force. Bunfit thought otherwise. Bunfit believed that the -diamonds were now either in the possession of Lord George or of Harter & -Benjamin, that they had been handed over to Lord George to save them from -Messrs. Camperdown and the lawsuit, and that Lord George and the lady were -lovers. The lady's conduct at their last interview, her fit of fainting, -and her clutching for the key, all confirmed Bunfit in his opinion. But -unfortunately for Bunfit he was almost alone in his opinion. There were -men in the force, high in their profession as detectives, who avowed that -certainly two very experienced and well-known thieves had been concerned -in the business. That a certain Mr. Smiler had been there, a gentleman for -whom the whole police of London entertained a feeling which approached to -veneration, and that most diminutive of full-grown thieves, Billy Cann, -most diminutive but at the same time most expert, was not doubted by some -minds which were apt to doubt till conviction had become certainty. The -traveller who had left the Scotch train at Dumfries had been a very small -man, and it was a known fact that Mr. Smiler had left London by train from -the Euston Square station, on the day before that on which Lizzie and her -party had reached Carlisle. If it were so, if Mr. Smiler and Billy Cann -had both been at work at the hotel, then--so argued they who opposed the -Bunfit theory--it was hardly conceivable that the robbery should have been -arranged by Lord George. According to the Bunfit theory the only thing -needed by the conspirators had been that the diamonds should be handed -over by Lady Eustace to Lord George in such a way as to escape suspicion -that such transfer had been made. This might have been done with very -little trouble, by simply leaving the box empty, with the key in it. The -door of the bedroom had been opened by skilful professional men, and the -box had been forced by the use of tools which none but professional -gentlemen would possess. Was it probable that Lord George would have -committed himself with such men, and incurred the very heavy expense of -paying for their services, when he was, according to the Bunfit theory, -able to get at the diamonds without any such trouble, danger, and -expenditure? There was a young detective in the force, very clever--almost -too clever, and certainly a little too fast--Gager by name, who declared -that the Bunfit theory "warn't on the cards." According to Gager's -information, Smiler was at this moment a brokenhearted man, ranging -between mad indignation and suicidal despondency, because he had been -treated with treachery in some direction. Mr. Gager was as fully convinced -as Bunfit that the diamonds had not been in the box. There was bitter, -raging, heart-breaking disappointment about the diamonds in more quarters -than one. That there had been a double robbery Gager was quite sure; or -rather a robbery in which two sets of thieves had been concerned, and in -which one set had been duped by the other set. In this affair Mr. Smiler -and poor little Billy Cann had been the dupes. So far Gager's mind had -arrived at certainty. But then how had they been duped, and who had duped -them? And who had employed them? Such a robbery would hardly have been -arranged and executed except on commission. Even Mr. Smiler would not have -burdened himself with such diamonds without knowing what to do with them, -and what he should get for them. That they were intended ultimately for -the hands of Messrs. Harter & Benjamin, Gager almost believed. And Gager -was inclined to think that Messrs. Harter & Benjamin--or rather Mr. -Benjamin, for Mr. Harter himself was almost too old for work requiring so -very great mental activity--that Mr. Benjamin, fearing the honesty of his -executive officer Mr. Smiler, had been splendidly treacherous to his -subordinate. Gager had not quite completed his theory; but he was very -firm on one great point, that the thieves at Carlisle had been genuine -thieves, thinking that they were stealing the diamonds, and finding their -mistake out when the box had been opened by them under the bridge. "Who -have 'em, then?" asked Bunfit of his younger brother, in a disparaging -whisper. - -"Well; yes; who 'ave 'em? It's easy to say, who 'ave 'em? Suppose 'e 'ave -'em." The "he" alluded to by Gager was Lord George de Bruce Carruthers. -"But laws, Bunfit, they're gone--weeks ago. You know that, Bunfit." This -had occurred before the intended search among poor Lizzie's boxes, but -Bunfit's theory had not been shaken. Bunfit could see all round his own -theory. It was a whole, and the motives as well as the operations of the -persons concerned were explained by it. But the Gager theory only went to -show what had not been done, and offered no explanation of the -accomplished scheme. Then Bunfit went a little further in his theory, not -disdaining to accept something from Gager. Perhaps Lord George had engaged -these men, and had afterwards found it practicable to get the diamonds -without their assistance. On one great point all concerned in the inquiry -were in unison--that the diamonds had not been in the box when it was -carried out of the bedroom at Carlisle. The great point of difference -consisted in this, that whereas Gager was sure that the robbery when -committed had been genuine, Bunfit was of opinion that the box had been -first opened, and then taken out of the hotel in order that the police -might be put on a wrong track. - -The matter was becoming very important. Two or three of the leading -newspapers had first hinted at and then openly condemned the incompetence -and slowness of the police. Such censure, as we all know, is very common, -and in nine cases out of ten it is unjust. They who write it probably know -but little of the circumstances; and, in speaking of a failure here and a -failure there, make no reference to the numerous successes, which are so -customary as to partake of the nature of routine. It is the same in regard -to all public matters; army matters, navy matters, poor-law matters, and -post-office matters. Day after day, and almost every day, one meets -censure which is felt to be unjust; but the general result of all this -injustice is increased efficiency. The coach does go the faster because of -the whip in the coachman's hand, though the horse driven may never have -deserved the thong. In this matter of the Eustace diamonds the police had -been very active; but they had been unsuccessful and had consequently been -abused. The robbery was now more than three weeks old. Property to the -amount of ten thousand pounds had been abstracted, and as yet the police -had not even formed an assured opinion on the subject! Had the same thing -occurred in New York or Paris every diamond would by this time have been -traced. Such were the assertions made, and the police were instigated to -new exertions. Bunfit would have jeopardised his right hand, and Gager his -life, to get at the secret. Even Major Mackintosh was anxious. - -The facts of the claim made by Mr. Camperdown, and of the bill which had -been filed in Chancery for the recovery of the diamonds, were of course -widely known, and added much to the general interest and complexity. It -was averred that Mr. Camperdown's determination to get the diamonds had -been very energetic, and Lady Eustace's determination to keep them equally -so. Wonderful stories were told of Lizzie's courage, energy, and -resolution. There was hardly a lawyer of repute but took up the question, -and had an opinion as to Lizzie's right to the necklace. The Attorney and -Solicitor-General were dead against her, asserting that the diamonds -certainly did not pass to her under the will, and could not have become -hers by gift. But they were members of a Liberal government, and of course -Antilizzieite. Gentlemen who were equal to them in learning, who had held -offices equally high, were distinctly of a different opinion. Lady Eustace -might probably claim the jewels as paraphernalia properly appertaining to -her rank; in which claim the bestowal of them by her husband would no -doubt assist her. And to these gentlemen--who were Lizzieites and of -course Conservatives in politics--it was by no means clear that the -diamonds did not pass to her by will. If it could be shown that the -diamonds had been lately kept in Scotland, the ex-Attorney-General thought -that they would so pass. All which questions, now that the jewels had been -lost, were discussed openly, and added greatly to the anxiety of the -police. Both Lizzieites and Antilizzieites were disposed to think that -Lizzie was very clever. - -Frank Greystock in these days took up his cousin's part altogether in good -faith. He entertained not the slightest suspicion that she was deceiving -him in regard to the diamonds. That the robbery had been a bona fide -robbery, and that Lizzie had lost her treasure, was to him beyond doubt. -He had gradually convinced himself that Mr. Camperdown was wrong in his -claim, and was strongly of opinion that Lord Fawn had disgraced himself by -his conduct to the lady. When he now heard, as he did hear, that some -undefined suspicion was attached to his cousin, and when he heard also--as -unfortunately he did hear--that Lord Fawn had encouraged that suspicion, -he was very irate, and said grievous things of Lord Fawn. It seemed to him -to be the extremity of cruelty that suspicion should be attached to his -cousin because she had been robbed of her jewels. He was among those who -were most severe in their denunciation of the police--and was the more so, -because he had heard it asserted that the necklace had not in truth been -stolen. He busied himself very much in the matter, and even interrogated -John Eustace as to his intentions. "My dear fellow," said Eustace, "if you -hated those diamonds as much as I do, you would never mention them again." -Greystock declared that this expression of aversion to the subject might -be all very well for Mr. Eustace, but that he found himself bound to -defend his cousin. "You cannot defend her against me," said Eustace, "for -I do not attack her. I have never said a word against her. I went down to -Portray when she asked me. As far as I am concerned she is perfectly -welcome to wear the necklace, if she can get it back again. I will not -make or meddle in the matter one way or the other." Frank, after that, -went to Mr. Camperdown, but he could get no satisfaction from the -attorney. Mr. Camperdown would say only that he had a duty to do, and that -he must do it. On the matter of the robbery he refused to give an opinion. -That was in the hands of the police. Should the diamonds be recovered, he -would, of course, claim them on behalf of the estate. In his opinion, -whether the diamonds were recovered or not, Lady Eustace was responsible -to the estate for their value. In opposition, first to the entreaties, and -then to the demands, of her late husband's family, she had insisted on -absurdly carrying about with her an enormous amount of property which did -not belong to her. Mr. Camperdown opined that she must pay for the lost -diamonds out of her jointure. Frank, in a huff, declared that, as far as -he could see, the diamonds belonged to his cousin; in answer to which Mr. -Camperdown suggested that the question was one for the decision of the -Vice-Chancellor. Frank Greystock found that he could do nothing with Mr. -Camperdown, and felt that he could wreak his vengeance only on Lord Fawn. - -Bunfit, when he returned from Mrs. Carbuncle's house to Scotland Yard, had -an interview with Major Mackintosh. "Well, Bunfit, have you seen the -lady?" - -"Yes, I did see her, sir." - -"And what came of it?" - -"She fainted away, sir--just as they always do." - -"There was no search, I suppose?" - -"No, sir; no search. She wouldn't have it, unless her cousin. Mr. -Greystock, permitted." - -"I didn't think she would." - -"Nor yet didn't I, sir. But I'll tell you what it is, major. She knows all -about it." - -"You think she does, Bunfit?" - -"She does, sir; and she's got something locked up somewhere in that house -as'd elucidate the whole of this aggravating mystery, if only we could get -at it, Major----" - -"Well, Bunfit." - -"I ain't noways sure as she ain't got them very diamonds themselves locked -up, or, perhaps, tied round her person." - -"Neither am I sure that she has not," said the major. - -"The robbery at Carlisle was no robbery," continued Bunfit. "It was a got- -up plant, and about the best as I ever knowed. It's my mind that it was a -got-up plant between her ladyship and his lordship; and either the one or -the other is just keeping the diamonds till it's safe to take 'em into the -market." - - - - -CHAPTER L - -IN HERTFORD STREET - - -During all this time Lucinda Roanoke was engaged to marry Sir Griffin -Tewett, and the lover was an occasional visitor in Hertford Street. Mrs. -Carbuncle was as anxious as ever that the marriage should be celebrated on -the appointed day, and though there had been repeated quarrels, nothing -had as yet taken place to make her despond. Sir Griffin would make some -offensive speech. Lucinda would tell him that she had no desire ever to -see him again, and then the baronet, usually under the instigation of Lord -George, would make some awkward apology. Mrs. Carbuncle, whose life at -this period was not a pleasant one, would behave on such occasions with -great patience, and sometimes with great courage. Lizzie, who in her -present emergency could not bear the idea of losing the assistance of any -friend, was soft and graceful, and even gracious, to the bear. The bear -himself certainly seemed to desire the marriage, though he would so often -give offence which made any prospect of a marriage almost impossible. But -with Sir Griffin, when the prize seemed to be lost, it again became -valuable. He would talk about his passionate love to Mrs. Carbuncle and to -Lizzie, and then, when things had been made straight for him, he would -insult them, and neglect Lucinda. To Lucinda herself, however, he would -rarely dare to say such words as he used daily to the other two ladies in -the house. What could have been the man's own idea of his future married -life, how can any reader be made to understand, or any writer adequately -describe? He must have known that the woman despised him, and hated him. -In the very bottom of his heart he feared her. He had no idea of other -pleasures from her society than what might arise to him from the pride of -having married a beautiful woman. Had she shown the slightest fondness for -him, the slightest fear that she might lose him, the slightest feeling -that she had won a valuable prize in getting him, he would have scorned -her, and jilted her without the slightest remorse. But the scorn came from -her, and it beat him down. "Yes, you hate me, and would fain be rid of me; -but you have said that you will be my wife, and you cannot now escape me." -Sir Griffin did not exactly speak such words as these, but he acted them. -Lucinda would bear his presence, sitting apart from him, silent, -imperious, but very beautiful. People said that she became more handsome -from day to day, and she did so, in spite of her agony. Hers was a face -which could stand such condition of the heart without fading or sinking -under it. She did not weep, or lose her colour, or become thin. The pretty -softness of a girl, delicate feminine weakness, or laughing eyes and -pouting lips, no one expected from her. Sir Griffin, in the early days of -their acquaintance, had found her to be a woman with a character for -beauty, and she was now more beautiful than ever. He probably thought that -he loved her; but, at any rate, he was determined that he would marry her. - -He had expressed himself more than once as very angry about this affair of -the jewels. He had told Mrs. Carbuncle that her inmate, Lady Eustace, was -suspected by the police, and that it might be well that Lady Eustace -should be--be made to go, in fact. But it did not suit Mrs. Carbuncle that -Lady Eustace should be made to go; nor did it suit Lord George de Bruce -Carruthers. Lord George, at Mrs. Carbuncle's instance, had snubbed Sir -Griffin more than once, and then it came to pass that he was snubbed yet -again more violently than before. He was at the house in Hertford Street -on the day of Mr. Bunfit's visit, some hours after Mr. Bunfit was gone, -when Lizzie was still lying on her bed up-stairs, nearly beaten by the -great danger which had oppressed her. He was told of Mr. Bunfit's visit, -and then again said that he thought that the continued residence of Lady -Eustace beneath that roof was a misfortune. "Would you wish us to turn her -out because her necklace has been stolen?" asked Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"People say very queer things," said Sir Griffin. - -"So they do, Sir Griffin," continued Mrs. Carbuncle. "They say such queer -things that I can hardly understand that they should be allowed to say -them. I am told that the police absolutely suggest that Lord George stole -the diamonds." - -"That's nonsense." - -"No doubt, Sir Griffin. And so is the other nonsense. Do you mean to tell -us that you believe that Lady Eustace stole her own diamonds?" - -"I don't see the use of having her here. Situated as I am, I have a right -to object to it." - -"Situated as you are, Sir Griffin!" said Lucinda. - -"Well, yes, of course; if we are to be married, I cannot but think a good -deal of the persons you stay with." - -"You were very glad to stay yourself with Lady Eustace at Portray," said -Lucinda. - -"I went there to follow you," said Sir Griffin gallantly. - -"I wish with all my heart you had stayed away," said Lucinda. At that -moment Lord George was shown into the room, and Miss Roanoke continued -speaking, determined that Lord George should know how the bear was -conducting himself. "Sir Griffin is saying that my aunt ought to turn Lady -Eustace out of the house." - -"Not quite that," said Sir Griffin with an attempt at laughter. - -"Quite that," said Lucinda. "I don't suppose that he suspects poor Lady -Eustace, but he thinks that my aunt's friend should be like Caesar's wife, -above the suspicion of others." - -"If you would mind your own business, Tewett," said Lord George, "it would -be a deal better for us all. I wonder Mrs. Carbuncle does not turn you out -of the room for making such a proposition here. If it were my room, I -would." - -"I suppose I can say what I please to Mrs. Carbuncle? Miss Roanoke is not -going to be your wife." - -"It is my belief that Miss Roanoke will be nobody's wife, at any rate, for -the present," said that young lady; upon which Sir Griffin left the room, -muttering some words which might have been, perhaps, intended for an -adieu. Immediately after this Lizzie came in, moving slowly, but without a -sound, like a ghost, with pale cheeks and dishevelled hair, and that -weary, worn look of illness which was become customary with her. She -greeted Lord George with a faint attempt at a smile, and seated herself in -a corner of a sofa. She asked whether he had been told the story of the -proposed search, and then bade her friend Mrs. Carbuncle describe the -scene. - -"If it goes on like this it will kill me," said Lizzie. - -"They are treating me in precisely the same way," said Lord George. - -"But think of your strength and of my weakness, Lord George." - -"By heavens, I don't know," said Lord George. "In this matter your -weakness is stronger than any strength of mine. I never was so cut up in -my life. It was a good joke when we talked of the suspicions of that -fellow at Carlisle as we came up by the railway, but it is no joke now. -I've had men with me, almost asking to search among my things." - -"They have quite asked me," said Lizzie piteously. - -"You; yes. But there's some reason in that. These infernal diamonds did -belong to you, or, at any rate you had them. You are the last person known -to have seen them. Even if you had them still, you'd only have what you -call your own." Lizzie looked at him with all her eyes and listened to him -with all her ears. "But what the mischief can I have had to do with them?" - -"It's very hard upon you," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Unless I stole them," continued Lord George. - -"Which is so absurd, you know," said Lizzie. - -"That a pig-headed provincial fool should have taken me for a midnight -thief, did not disturb me much. I don't think I am very easily annoyed by -what other people think of me. But these fellows, I suppose, were sent -here by the head of the metropolitan police; and everybody knows that they -have been sent. Because I was civil enough to you women to look after you -coming up to town, and because one of you was careless enough to lose her -jewels, I--I am to be talked about all over London as the man who took -them!" This was not spoken with much courtesy to the ladies present. Lord -George had dropped that customary chivalry of manner which, in ordinary -life, makes it to be quite out of the question that a man shall be uncivil -to a woman. He had escaped from conventional usage into rough, truthful -speech, under stress from the extremity of the hardship to which he had -been subjected. And the women understood it and appreciated it, and liked -it rather than otherwise. To Lizzie it seemed fitting that a Corsair so -circumstanced should be as uncivil as he pleased; and Mrs. Carbuncle had -long been accustomed to her friend's moods. - -"They can't really think it," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Somebody thinks it. I am told that your particular friend, Lord Fawn"-- -this he said specially addressing Lizzie--"has expressed a strong opinion -that I carry about the necklace always in my pocket. I trust to have the -opportunity of wringing his neck some day." - -"I do so wish you would," said Lizzie. - -"I shall not lose a chance if I can get it. Before all this occurred, I -should have said of myself that nothing of the kind could put me out. I -don't think there is a man in the world cares less what people say of him -than I do. I am as indifferent to ordinary tittle-tattle as a rhinoceros. -But, by George, when it comes to stealing ten thousand pounds' worth of -diamonds, and the delicate attentions of all the metropolitan police, one -begins to feel that one is vulnerable. When I get up in the morning, I -half feel that I shall be locked up before night, and I can see in the -eyes of every man I meet that he takes me for the prince of burglars!" - -"And it is all my fault," said Lizzie. - -"I wish the diamonds had been thrown into the sea," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"What do you think about them yourself?" asked Lucinda. - -"I don't know what to think. I'm at a dead loss. You know that man Mr. -Benjamin, Lady Eustace?" Lizzie, with a little start, answered that she -did, that she had had dealings with him before her marriage, and had once -owed him two or three hundred pounds. As the man's name had been -mentioned, she thought it better to own as much. "So he tells me. Now, in -all London, I don't suppose there is a greater rascal than Benjamin." - -"I didn't know that," said Lizzie. - -"But I did; and with that rascal I have had money dealings for the last -six or seven years. He has cashed bills for me, and has my name to bills -now--and Sir Griffin's too. I'm half inclined to think that he has got the -diamonds." - -"Do you indeed?" said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Mr. Benjamin!" said Lizzie. - -"And he returns the compliment." - -"How does he return it?" asked Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"He either thinks that I've got 'em or he wants to make me believe that he -thinks so. He hasn't dared to say it--but that's his intention. Such an -opinion from such a man on such a subject would be quite a compliment. And -I feel it. But yet it troubles me. You know that greasy, Israelitish smile -of his, Lady Eustace." Lizzie nodded her head and tried to smile. "When I -asked him yesterday about the diamonds, he leered at me and rubbed his -hands. 'It's a pretty little game--ain't it, Lord George?' he said. I told -him that I thought it a very bad game, and that I hoped the police would -have the thief and the necklace soon. 'It's been managed a deal too well -for that, Lord George--don't you think so?'" Lord George mimicked the Jew -as he repeated the words, and the ladies, of course, laughed. But poor -Lizzie's attempt at laughter was very sorry. "I told him to his face that -I thought he had them among his treasures. 'No, no, no, Lord George,' he -said, and seemed quite to enjoy the joke. If he's got them himself, he -can't think that I have them; but if he has not, I don't doubt but he -believes that I have. And I'll tell you another person who suspects me." - -"What fools they are!" said Lizzie. - -"I don't know how that may be. Sir Griffin, Lucinda, isn't at all sure but -what I have them in my pocket." - -"I can believe anything of him," said Lucinda. - -"And it seems he can believe anything of me. I shall begin to think soon -that I did take them, myself--or, at any rate, that I ought to have done -so. I wonder what you three women think of it. If you do think I've got -'em, don't scruple to say so. I'm quite used to it, and it won't hurt me -any further." The ladies again laughed. "You must have your suspicions," -continued he. - -"I suppose some of the London thieves did get them," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"The police say the box was empty," said Lord George. - -"How can the police know?" asked Lucinda. "They weren't there to see. Of -course the thieves would say that they didn't take them." - -"What do you think, Lady Eustace?" - -"I don't know what to think. Perhaps Mr. Camperdown did it." - -"Or the Lord Chancellor," said Lord George. "One is just as likely as the -other. I wish I could get at what you really think. The whole thing would -be so complete if all you three suspected me. I can't get out of it all by -going to Paris or Kamtchatka, as I should have half a dozen detectives on -my heels wherever I went. I must brazen it out here; and the worst of it -is, that I feel that a look of guilt is creeping over me. I have a sort of -conviction growing upon me that I shall be taken up and tried, and that a -jury will find me guilty. I dream about it; and if--as is probable--it -drives me mad, I'm sure that I shall accuse myself in my madness. There's -a fascination about it that I can't explain or escape. I go on thinking -how I would have done it if I did do it. I spend hours in calculating how -much I would have realised, and where I would have found my market. I -couldn't keep myself from asking Benjamin the other day how much they -would be worth to him." - -"What did he say?" asked Lizzie, who sat gazing upon the Corsair, and who -was now herself fascinated. Lord George was walking about the room, then -sitting for a moment in one chair and again in another, and after a while -leaning on the mantelpiece. In his speaking he addressed himself almost -exclusively to Lizzie, who could not keep her eyes from his. - -"He grinned greasily," said the Corsair, "and told me they had already -been offered to him once before by you." - -"That's false!" said Lizzie. - -"Very likely. And then he said that no doubt they'd fall into his hands -some day. 'Wouldn't it be a game, Lord George,' he said, 'if, after all, -they should be no more than paste?' That made me think he had got them, -and that he'd get paste diamonds put into the same setting--and then give -them up with some story of his own making. 'You'd know whether they were -paste or not, wouldn't you, Lord George?' he asked." The Corsair, as he -repeated Mr. Benjamin's words, imitated the Jew's manner so well that he -made Lizzie shudder. "While I was there, a detective named Gager came in." - -"The same man who came here, perhaps," suggested Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I think not. He seemed to be quite intimate with Mr. Benjamin, and went -on at once about the diamonds. Benjamin said that they'd made their way -over to Paris, and that he'd heard of them. I found myself getting quite -intimate with Mr. Gager, who seemed hardly to scruple at showing that he -thought that Benjamin and I were confederates. Mr. Camperdown has offered -four hundred pounds reward for the jewels, to be paid on their surrender -to the hands of Mr. Garnett, the jeweller. Gager declared that, if any -ordinary thief had them, they would be given up at once for that sum." - -"That's true, I suppose," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"How would the ordinary thief get his money without being detected? Who -would dare to walk into Garnett's shop with the diamonds in his hands and -ask for the four hundred pounds? Besides, they have been sold to some one, -and, as I believe, to my dear friend, Mr. Benjamin. 'I suppose you ain't -a-going anywhere just at present, Lord George?' said that fellow Gager. -'What the devil's that to you?' I asked him. He just laughed and shook his -head. I don't doubt but that there's a policeman about waiting till I -leave this house; or looking at me now with a magnifying glass from the -windows at the other side. They've photographed me while I'm going about, -and published a list of every hair on my face in the 'Hue and Cry.' I -dined at the club yesterday, and found a strange waiter. I feel certain -that he was a policeman done up in livery all for my sake. I turned sharp -round in the street yesterday, and found a man at a corner. I am sure that -man was watching me, and was looking at my pockets to see whether the -jewel case was there. As for myself, I can think of nothing else. I wish I -had got them. I should have something then to pay me for all this -nuisance." - -"I do wish you had," said Lizzie. - -"What I should do with them I cannot even imagine. I am always thinking of -that, too, making plans for getting rid of them, supposing I had stolen -them. My belief is, that I should be so sick of them that I should chuck -them over the bridge into the river, only that I should fear that some -policeman's eye would be on me as I did it. My present position is not -comfortable, but if I had got them I think that the weight of them would -crush me altogether. Having a handle to my name, and being a lord, or, at -least, called a lord, makes it all the worse. People are so pleased to -think that a lord should have stolen a necklace!" - -Lizzie listened to it all with a strange fascination. If this strong man -were so much upset by the bare suspicion, what must be her condition? The -jewels were in her desk up-stairs, and the police had been with her also, -were even now probably looking after her and watching her. How much more -difficult must it be for her to deal with the diamonds than it would have -been for this man. Presently Mrs. Carbuncle left the room, and Lucinda -followed her. Lizzie saw them go, and did not dare to go with them. She -felt as though her limbs would not have carried her to the door. She was -now alone with her Corsair; and she looked up timidly into his deep-set -eyes, as he came and stood over her. "Tell me all that you know about it," -he said, in that deep, low voice which, from her first acquaintance with -him, had filled her with interest, and almost with awe. - - - - -CHAPTER LI - -CONFIDENCE - - -Lizzie Eustace was speechless as she continued to look up into the -Corsair's face. She ought to have answered him briskly, either with -indignation or with a touch of humour. But she could not answer him at -all. She was desired to tell him all that she knew about the robbery, and -she was unable to declare that she knew nothing. How much did he suspect? -What did he believe? Had she been watched by Mrs. Carbuncle, and had -something of the truth been told to him? And then would it not be better -for her that he should know it all? Unsupported and alone she could not -bear the trouble which was on her. If she were driven to tell her secret -to any one, had she not better tell it to him? She knew that if she did -so, she would be a creature in his hands to be dealt with as he pleased; -but would there not be a certain charm in being so mastered? He was but a -pinchbeck lord. She had wit enough to know that; but then she had wit -enough also to feel that she herself was but a pinchbeck lady. He would be -fit for her, and she for him, if only he would take her. Since her -daydreams first began, she had been longing for a Corsair; and here he -was, not kneeling at her feet, but standing over her, as became a Corsair. -At any rate he had mastered her now, and she could not speak to him. - -He waited perhaps a minute, looking at her, before he renewed his -question; and the minute seemed to her to be an age. During every second -her power beneath his gaze sank lower and lower. There gradually came a -grim smile over his face, and she was sure that he could read her very -heart. Then he called her by her Christian name, as he had never called -her before. "Come, Lizzie," he said, "you might as well tell me all about -it. You know." - -"Know what?" The words were audible to him, though they were uttered in -the lowest whisper. - -"About this d--- necklace. What is it all? Where are they? And how did you -manage it?" - -"I didn't manage anything!" - -"But you know where they are?" He paused again, still gazing at her. -Gradually there came across his face, or she fancied that it was so, a -look of ferocity which thoroughly frightened her. If he should turn -against her, and be leagued with the police against her, what chance would -she have? "You know where they are," he said, repeating his words. Then at -last she nodded her head, assenting to his assertion. "And where are they? -Come, out with it! If you won't tell me, you must tell some one else. -There has been a deal too much of this already." - -"You won't betray me?" - -"Not if you deal openly with me." - -"I will; indeed I will. And it was all an accident. When I took them out -of the box, I only did it for safety." - -"You did take them out of the box then?" Again she nodded her head. "And -have got them now?" There was another nod. "And where are they? Come; with -such an enterprising spirit as yours, you ought to be able to speak. Has -Benjamin got them?" - -"Oh, no." - -"And he knows nothing about them?" - -"Nothing." - -"Then I have wronged in my thoughts that son of Abraham." - -"Nobody knows anything," said Lizzie. - -"Not even Jane or Lucinda?" - -"Nothing at all." - -"Then you have kept your secret marvellously. And where are they?" - -"Up-stairs." - -"In your bedroom?" - -"In my desk in the little sitting-room." - -"The Lord be good to us!" ejaculated Lord George. "All the police in -London, from the chief downwards, are agog about this necklace. Every -well-known thief in the town is envied by every other thief because he is -thought to have had a finger in the pie. I am suspected, and Mr. Benjamin -is suspected; Sir Griffin is suspected, and half the jewellers in London -and Paris are supposed to have the stones in their keeping. Every man and -woman is talking about it, and people are quarrelling about it till they -almost cut each other's throats; and all the while you have got them -locked up in your desk! How on earth did you get the box broken open and -then conveyed out of your room at Carlisle?" - -Then Lizzie, in a frightened whisper, with her eyes often turned on the -floor, told the whole story. "If I'd had a minute to think of it," she -said, "I would have confessed the truth at Carlisle. Why should I want to -steal what was my own? But they came to me all so quickly, and I didn't -like to say that I had them under my pillow." - -"I dare say not." - -"And then I couldn't tell anybody afterwards. I always meant to tell you, -from the very first, because I knew you would be good to me. They are my -own. Surely I might do what I liked with my own?" - -"Well, yes; in one way. But you see there was a lawsuit in Chancery going -on about them; and then you committed perjury at Carlisle. And altogether, -it's not quite straight sailing, you know." - -"I suppose not." - -"Hardly. Major Mackintosh, and the magistrates, and Messrs. Bunfit and -Gager won't settle down, peaceable and satisfied, when they hear the end -of the story. And I think Messrs. Camperdown will have a bill against you. -It's been uncommonly clever, but I don't see the use of it." - -"I've been very foolish," said Lizzie; "but you won't desert me?" - -"Upon my word I don't know what I'm to do." - -"Will you have them as a present?" - -"Certainly not." - -"They're worth ever so much; ten thousand pounds! And they are my own, to -do just what I please with them." - -"You are very good; but what should I do with them?" - -"Sell them." - -"Who'd buy them? And before a week was over I should be in prison, and in -a couple of months should be standing at the Old Bailey at my trial. I -couldn't just do that, my dear." - -"What will you do for me? You are my friend--ain't you?" The diamond -necklace was not a desirable possession in the eyes of Lord George de -Bruce Carruthers; but Portray Castle, with its income, and the fact that -Lizzie Eustace was still a very young woman, was desirable. Her prettiness -too was not altogether thrown away on Lord George, though, as he was wont -to say to himself, he was too old now to sacrifice much for such a toy as -that. Something he must do, if only because of the knowledge which had -come to him. He could not go away and leave her, and neither say nor do -anything in the matter. And he could not betray her to the police. - -"You will not desert me," she said, taking hold of his hand, and kissing -it as a suppliant. - -He passed his arm round her waist, but more as though she were a child -than a woman, as he stood thinking. Of all the affairs in which he had -ever been engaged, it was the most difficult. She submitted to his -embrace, and leaned upon his shoulder, and looked up into his face. If he -would only tell her that he loved her, then he would be bound to her, then -must he share with her the burthen of the diamonds, then must he be true -to her. "George," she said, and burst into a low suppressed wailing, with -her face hidden upon his arm. - -"That's all very well," said he, still holding her, for she was pleasant -to hold, "but what the d---- is a fellow to do? I don't see my way out of -it. I think you'd better go to Camperdown, and give them up to him, and -tell him the truth." Then she sobbed more violently than before, till her -quick ear caught the sound of a footstep on the stairs, and in a moment -she was out of his arms and seated on the sofa, with hardly a trace of -tears in her eyes. It was the footman, who desired to know whether Lady -Eustace would want the carriage that afternoon. Lady Eustace, with her -cheeriest voice, sent her love to Mrs. Carbuncle, and her assurance that -she would not want the carriage before the evening. "I don't know that you -can do anything else," continued Lord George, "except just give them up -and brazen it out. I don't suppose they'd prosecute you." - -"Prosecute me!" ejaculated Lizzie. - -"For perjury, I mean." - -"And what could they do to me?" - -"Oh, I don't know. Lock you up for five years, perhaps." - -"Because I had my own necklace under the pillow in my own room?" - -"Think of all the trouble you've given." - -"I'll never give them up to Mr. Camperdown. They are mine; my very own. My -cousin, Mr. Greystock, who is much more of a lawyer than Mr. Camperdown, -says so. Oh, George, do think of something. Don't tell me that I must give -them up. Wouldn't Mr. Benjamin buy them?" - -"Yes, for half nothing; and then go and tell the whole story and get money -from the other side. You can't trust Benjamin." - -"But I can trust you." She clung to him and implored him, and did get from -him a renewed promise that he would not reveal her secret. She wanted him -to take the terrible packet from her there and then, and use his own -judgment in disposing of it. But this he positively refused to do. He -protested that they were safer with her than they could be with him. He -explained to her that if they were found in his hands, his offence in -having them in his possession would be much greater than hers. They were -her own, as she was ever so ready to assert; or if not her own, the -ownership was so doubtful that she could not be accused of having stolen -them. And then he needed to consider it all, to sleep upon it, before he -could make up his mind what he would do. - -But there was one other trouble on her mind as to which he was called upon -to give her counsel before he was allowed to leave her. She had told the -detective officer that she would submit her boxes and desks to be searched -if her cousin Frank should advise it. If the policeman were to return with -her cousin while the diamonds were still in her desk, what should she do? -He might come at any time; and then she would be bound to obey him. - -"And he thinks that they were stolen at Carlisle?" asked Lord George. - -"Of course he thinks so," said Lizzie, almost indignantly. - -"They would never ask to search your person," suggested Lord George. -Lizzie could not say. She had simply declared that she would be guided by -her cousin. - -"Have them about you when he comes. Don't take them out with you; but keep -them in your pocket while you are in the house during the day. They will -hardly bring a woman with them to search you." - -"But there was a woman with the man when he came before." - -"Then you must refuse in spite of your cousin. Show yourself angry with -him and with everybody. Swear that you did not intend to submit yourself -to such indignity as that. They can't do it without a magistrate's order, -unless you permit it. I don't suppose they will come at all; and if they -do they will only look at your clothes and your boxes. If they ask to do -more, be stout with them and refuse. Of course, they'll suspect you, but -they do that already. And your cousin will suspect you; but you must put -up with that. It will be very bad; but I see nothing better. But, of all -things, say nothing of me." - -"Oh, no," said Lizzie, promising to be obedient to him. And then he took -his leave of her. - -"You will be true to me, will you not?" she said, still clinging to his -arm. He promised her that he would. "Oh, George," she said, "I have no -friend now but you. You will care for me?" He took her in his arms and -kissed her, and promised her that he would care for her. How was he to -save himself from doing so? When he was gone, Lizzie sat down to think of -it all, and felt sure that at last she had found her Corsair. - - - - -CHAPTER LII - -MRS. CARBUNCLE GOES TO THE THEATRE - - -Mrs. Carbuncle and Lizzie Eustace did not, in these days, shut themselves -up because there was trouble in the household. It would not have suited -the creed of Mrs. Carbuncle on social matters to be shut up from the -amusements of life. She had sacrificed too much in seeking them for that, -and was too conscious of the price she paid for them. It was still mid- -winter, but nevertheless there was generally some amusement arranged for -every evening. Mrs. Carbuncle was very fond of the play, and made herself -acquainted with every new piece as it came out. Every actor and actress of -note on the stage was known to her, and she dealt freely in criticisms on -their respective merits. The three ladies had a box at the Haymarket taken -for this very evening, at which a new piece, "The Noble Jilt," from the -hand of a very eminent author, was to be produced. Mrs. Carbuncle had -talked a great deal about "The Noble Jilt," and could boast that she had -discussed the merits of the two chief characters with the actor and -actress who were to undertake them. Miss Talbot had assured her that the -Margaret was altogether impracticable, and Mrs. Carbuncle was quite of the -same opinion. And as for the hero, Steinmark, it was a part that no man -could play so as to obtain the sympathy of an audience. There was a second -hero, a Flemish Count, tame as rain-water, Mrs. Carbuncle said. She was -very anxious for the success of the piece, which, as she said, had its -merits; but she was sure that it wouldn't do. She had talked about it a -great deal, and now, when the evening came, she was not going to be -deterred from seeing it by any trouble in reference to a diamond necklace. -Lizzie, when she was left by Lord George, had many doubts on the subject, -whether she would go or stay at home. If he would have come to her, or her -cousin Frank, or if, had it been possible, Lord Fawn would have come, she -would have given up the play very willingly. But to be alone, with her -necklace in the desk up-stairs, or in her pocket, was terrible to her. And -then, they could not search her or her boxes while she was at the theatre. -She must not take the necklace with her there. He had told her to leave it -in her desk when she went from home. - -Lucinda, also, was quite determined that she would see the new piece. She -declared to her aunt, in Lizzie's presence, without a vestige of a smile, -that it might be well to see how a jilt could behave herself, so as to do -her work of jilting in any noble fashion. - -"My dear," said her aunt, "you let things weigh upon your heart a great -deal too much." - -"Not upon my heart, Aunt Jane," the young lady had answered. She also -intended to go, and when she had made up her mind to anything, nothing -would deter her. She had no desire to stay at home in order that she might -see Sir Griffin. "I dare say the play may be very bad," she said, "but it -can hardly be so bad as real life." - -Lizzie, when Lord George had left her, crept up-stairs, and sat for a -while thinking of her condition, with the key of her desk in her hand. -Should there come a knock at the door, the case of diamonds would be in -her pocket in a moment. Her own room door was bolted on the inside, so -that she might have an instant for her preparation. She was quite resolved -that she would carry out Lord George's recommendation, and that no -policeman or woman should examine her person, unless it were done by -violence. There she sat, almost expecting that at every moment her cousin -would be there with Bunfit and the woman. But nobody came, and at six she -went down to dinner. After much consideration she then left the diamonds -in the desk. Surely no one would come to search at such an hour as that. -No one had come when the carriage was announced, and the three ladies went -off together. - -During the whole way Mrs. Carbuncle talked of the terrible situation in -which poor Lord George was placed by the robbery, and of all that Lizzie -owed him on account of his trouble. - -"My dear," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "the least you can do for him is to give -him all that you've got to give." - -"I don't know that he wants me to give him anything," said Lizzie. - -"I think that's quite plain," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "and I'm sure I wish it -may be so. He and I have been dear friends--very dear friends, and there -is nothing I wish so much as to see him properly settled. Ill-natured -people like to say all manner of things because everybody does not choose -to live in their own heartless, conventional form. But I can assure you -there is nothing between me and Lord George which need prevent him from -giving his whole heart to you." - -"I don't suppose there is," said Lizzie, who loved an opportunity of -giving Mrs. Carbuncle a little rap. - -The play, as a play, was a failure; at least so said Mrs. Carbuncle. The -critics, on the next morning, were somewhat divided--not only in judgment, -but as to facts. To say how a play has been received is of more moment -than to speak of its own merits or of the merits of the actors. Three or -four of the papers declared that the audience was not only eulogistic, but -enthusiastic. One or two others averred that the piece fell very flatly. -As it was not acted above four or five dozen times consecutively, it must -be regarded as a failure. On their way home Mrs. Carbuncle declared that -Minnie Talbot had done her very best with such a part as Margaret, but -that the character afforded no scope for sympathy. - -"A noble jilt, my dears," said Mrs. Carbuncle eloquently, "is a -contradiction in terms. There can be no such thing. A woman, when she has -once said the word, is bound to stick to it. The delicacy of the female -character should not admit of hesitation between two men. The idea is -quite revolting." - -"But may not one have an idea of no man at all?" asked Lucinda. "Must that -be revolting also?" - -"Of course a young woman may entertain such an idea; though for my part I -look upon it as unnatural. But when she has once given herself there can -be no taking back without the loss of that aroma which should be the apple -of a young woman's eye." - -"If she finds that she has made a mistake--?" said Lucinda fiercely. "Why -shouldn't a young woman make a mistake as well as an old woman? Her aroma -won't prevent her from having been wrong and finding it out." - -"My dear, such mistakes, as you call them, always arise from fantastic -notions. Look at this piece. Why does the lady jilt her lover? Not because -she doesn't like him. She's just as fond of him as ever." - -"He's a stupid sort of a fellow, and I think she was quite right," said -Lizzie. "I'd never marry a man merely because I said I would. If I found I -didn't like him, I'd leave him at the altar. I'd leave him any time I -found I didn't like him. It's all very well to talk of aroma, but to live -with a man you don't like--is the devil." - -"My dear, those whom God has joined together shouldn't be separated--for -any mere likings or dislikings." This Mrs. Carbuncle said in a high tone -of moral feeling, just as the carriage stopped at the door in Hertford -Street. They at once perceived that the hall-door was open, and Mrs. -Carbuncle, as she crossed the pavement, saw that there were two policemen -in the hall. The footman had been with them to the theatre, but the cook -and housemaid, and Mrs. Carbuncle's own maid, were with the policemen in -the passage. She gave a little scream, and then Lizzie, who had followed -her, seized her by the arm. She turned round and saw by the gas-light that -Lizzie's face was white as a sheet, and that all the lines of her -countenance were rigid and almost distorted. "Then she does know all about -it," said Mrs. Carbuncle to herself. Lizzie didn't speak, but still hung -on to Mrs. Carbuncle's arm, and Lucinda, having seen how it was, was also -supporting her. A policeman stepped forward and touched his hat. He was -not Bunfit--neither was he Gager. Indeed, though the ladies had not -perceived the difference, he was not at all like Bunfit or Gager. This man -was dressed in a policeman's uniform, whereas Bunfit and Gager always wore -plain clothes. - -"My lady," said the policeman, addressing Mrs. Carbuncle, "there's been a -robbery here." - -"A robbery!" ejaculated Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Yes, my lady. The servants all out, all to one; and she's off. They've -taken jewels, and, no doubt, money, if there was any. They don't mostly -come unless they know what they comes for." - -With a horrid spasm across her heart, which seemed really to kill her, so -sharp was the pain, Lizzie recovered the use of her legs and followed Mrs. -Carbuncle into the dining-room. She had been hardly conscious of hearing; -but she had heard, and it had seemed to her that the robbery spoken of was -something distinct from her own affair. The policeman did not speak of -having found the diamonds. It was of something lost that they spoke. She -seated herself in a chair against the wall, but did not utter a word. -"We've been up-stairs, my lady, and they've been in most of the rooms. -There's a desk broke open." Lizzie gave an involuntary little scream. -"Yes, mum, a desk," continued the policeman turning to Lizzie," and a -bureau, and a dressing-case. What's gone your ladyship can tell when you -sees. And one of the young women is off. It's she as done it." Then the -cook explained. She and the housemaid, and Mrs. Carbuncle's lady's maid, -had just stepped out, only round the corner, to get a little air, leaving -Patience Crabstick in charge of the house; and when they came back, the -area gate was locked against them, the front door was locked, and finding -themselves unable to get in after many knockings, they had at last -obtained the assistance of a policeman. He had got into the place over the -area gate, had opened the front door from within, and then the robbery had -been discovered. It was afterwards found that the servants had all gone -out to what they called a tea-party, at a public-house in the -neighbourhood, and that by previous agreement Patience Crabstick had -remained in charge. When they came back Patience Crabstick was gone, and -the desk, and bureau, and dressing-case were found to have been opened. -"She had a reg'lar thief along with her, my lady," said the policeman, -still addressing himself to Mrs. Carbuncle, "'cause of the way the things -was opened." - -"I always knew that young woman was downright bad," said Mrs. Carbuncle in -her first expression of wrath. - -But Lizzie sat in her chair without saying a word, still pale with that -almost awful look of agony in her face. Within ten minutes of their -entering the house, Mrs. Carbuncle was making her way up-stairs, with the -two policemen following her. That her bureau and her dressing-case should -have been opened was dreadful to her, though the value that she could thus -lose was very small. She also possessed diamonds, but her diamonds were -paste; and whatever jewelry she had of any value, a few rings, and a -brooch, and such like, had been on her person in the theatre. What little -money she had by her was in the drawing-room, and the drawing-room, as it -seemed, had not been entered. In truth, all Mrs. Carbuncle's possessions -in the house were not sufficient to have tempted a well-bred, well- -instructed thief. But it behooved her to be indignant; and she could be -indignant with grace, as the thief was discovered to be, not her maid, but -Patience Crabstick. The policemen followed Mrs. Carbuncle, and the maids -followed the policemen; but Lizzie Eustace kept her seat in the chair by -the wall. "Do you think they have taken much of yours?" said Lucinda, -coming up to her and speaking very gently. Lizzie made a motion with her -two hands upon her heart, and struggled, and gasped, as though she wished -to speak but could not. "I suppose it is that girl who has done it all," -said Lucinda. Lizzie nodded her head, and tried to smile. The attempt was -so ghastly that Lucinda, though not timid by nature, was frightened. She -sat down and took Lizzie's hand, and tried to comfort her. "It is very -hard upon you," she said, "to be twice robbed." Lizzie again nodded her -head. "I hope it is not much now. Shall we go up and see?" The poor -creature did get upon her legs, but she gasped so terribly that Lucinda -feared that she was dying. "Shall I send for some one?" she said. Lizzie -made an effort to speak, was shaken convulsively while the other supported -her, and then burst into a flood of tears. - -When that had come she was relieved, and could again act her part. "Yes," -she said, "we will go with them. It is so dreadful; is it not?" - -"Very dreadful; but how much better that we weren't at home. Shall we go -now?" Then together they followed the others, and on the stairs Lizzie -explained that in her desk, of which she always carried the key round her -neck, there was what money she had by her--two ten-pound notes, and four -five-pound notes, and three sovereigns; in all, forty-three pounds. Her -other jewels, the jewels which she had possessed over and above the fatal -diamond necklace, were in her dressing-case. Patience, she did not doubt, -had known that the money was there, and certainly knew of her jewels. So -they went up-stairs. The desk was open and the money gone. Five or six -rings and a bracelet had been taken also from Lizzie's dressing-case, -which she had left open. Of Mrs. Carbuncle's property sufficient had been -stolen to make a long list in that lady's handwriting. Lucinda Roanoke's -room had not been entered, as far as they could judge. The girl had taken -the best of her own clothes, and a pair of strong boots belonging to the -cook. A superintendent of police was there before they went to bed, and a -list was made out. The superintendent was of opinion that the thing had -been done very cleverly, but also thought that the thieves had expected to -find more plunder. - -"They don't care so much about banknotes, my lady, because they fetches -such a low price with them as they deal with. The three sovereigns is more -to them than all the forty pounds in notes." The superintendent had heard -of the diamond necklace, and expressed an opinion that poor Lady Eustace -was especially marked out for misfortune. - -"It all comes of having such a girl as that about her," said Mrs. -Carbuncle. The superintendent, who intended to be consolatory to Lizzie, -expressed his opinion that it was very hard to know what a young woman -was. - -"They looks as soft as butter, and they're as sly as foxes, and as quick, -as quick--as quick as greased lightning, my lady." Such a piece of -business as this which has just occurred will make people intimate at a -very short notice. - -And so the diamond necklace, known to be worth ten thousand pounds, had at -last been stolen in earnest! Lizzie, when the policemen were gone, and the -noise was over, and the house was closed, slunk away to her bedroom, -refusing any aid in lieu of that of the wicked Patience. She herself had -examined the desk beneath the eyes of her two friends and of the -policemen, and had seen at once that the case was gone. The money was gone -too, as she was rejoiced to find. She perceived at once that had the money -been left, the very leaving of it would have gone to prove that other -prize had been there. But the money was gone--money of which she had given -a correct account--and she could now honestly allege that she had been -robbed. But she had at last really lost her great treasure; and if the -treasure should be found then would she infallibly be exposed. She had -talked twice of giving away her necklace, and had seriously thought of -getting rid of it by burying it deep in the sea. But now that it was in -very truth gone from her, the loss of it was horrible to her. Ten thousand -pounds, for which she had struggled so much and borne so many things, -which had come to be the prevailing fact of her life, gone from her -forever! Nevertheless it was not that sorrow, that regret, which had so -nearly overpowered her in the dining-parlour. At that moment she hardly -knew, had hardly thought, whether the diamonds had or had not been taken. -But the feeling came upon her at once that her own disgrace was every hour -being brought nearer to her. Her secret was no longer quite her own. One -man knew it, and he had talked to her of perjury and of five years' -imprisonment. Patience must have known it too; and now some one else also -knew it. The police, of course, would find it out, and then horrid words -would be used against her. She hardly knew what perjury was. It sounded -like forgery and burglary. To stand up before a judge and be tried, and -then to be locked up for five years in prison! What an end would this be -to all her glorious success! And what evil had she done to merit all this -terrible punishment? When they came to her in her bedroom at Carlisle she -had simply been too much frightened to tell them all that the necklace was -at that moment under her pillow. - -She tried to think of it all, and to form some idea in her mind of what -might be the truth. Of course Patience Crabstick had known her secret, but -how long had the girl known it? And how had the girl discovered it? She -was almost sure, from certain circumstances, from words which the girl had -spoken, and from signs which she had observed, that Patience had not even -suspected that the necklace had been brought with them from Carlisle to -London. Of course the coming of Bunfit and the woman would have set the -girl's mind to work in that direction; but then Bunfit and the woman had -only been there on that morning. The Corsair knew the facts, and no one -but the Corsair. That the Corsair was a Corsair the suspicions of the -police had proved to her. She had offered the necklace to the Corsair; but -when so offered he had refused to take it. She could understand that he -should see the danger of accepting the diamonds from her hand, and yet -should be desirous of having them. And might not he have thought that he -could best relieve her from the burden of their custody in this manner? -She felt no anger against the Corsair as she weighed the probability of -his having taken them in this fashion. A Corsair must be a Corsair. Were -he to come to her and confess the deed, she would almost like him the -better for it, admiring his skill and enterprise. But how very clever he -must have been, and how brave! He had known, no doubt, that the three -ladies were all going to the theatre; but in how short a time had he got -rid of the other women and availed himself of the services of Patience -Crabstick! - -But in what way would she conduct herself when the police should come to -her on the following morning, the police and all the other people who -would crowd to the house? How should she receive her cousin Frank? How -should she look when the coincidence of the double robbery should be -spoken of in her hearing? How should she bear herself when, as of course -would be the case, she should again be taken before the magistrates, and -made to swear as to the loss of her property? Must she commit more -perjury, with the certainty that various people must know that her oath -was false? All the world would suspect her. All the world would soon know -the truth. Might it not be possible that the diamonds were at this moment -in the hands of Messrs. Camperdown, and that they would be produced before -her eyes, as soon as her second false oath had been registered against -her? And yet how could she tell the truth? And what would the Corsair -think of her, the Corsair who would know everything? She made one -resolution during the night. She would not be taken into court. The -magistrates and the people might come to her, but she would not go before -them. When the morning came she said that she was ill, and refused to -leave her bed. Policemen, she knew, were in the house early. At about nine -Mrs. Carbuncle and Lucinda were up and in her room. The excitement of the -affair had taken them from their beds, but she would not stir. If it were -absolutely necessary, she said, the men must come into her room. She had -been so overset by what had occurred on the previous night that she could -not leave her room. She appealed to Lucinda as to the fact of her illness. -The trouble of these robberies was so great upon her that her heart was -almost broken. If her deposition must be taken, she would make it in bed. -In the course of the day the magistrate did come into her room and the -deposition was taken. Forty-three pounds had been taken from her desk, and -certain jewels, which she described, from her dressing-case. As far as she -was aware, no other property of hers was missing. This she said in answer -to a direct question from the magistrate, which, as she thought, was asked -with a stern voice and searching eye. And so, a second time, she had sworn -falsely. But this at least was gained, that Lord George de Bruce -Carruthers was not looking at her as she swore. - -Lord George was in the house for a great part of the day, but he did not -ask to be admitted to Lizzie's room; nor did she ask to see him. Frank -Greystock was there late in the afternoon, and went up at once to see his -cousin. The moment that she saw him she stretched out her arms to him, and -burst into tears. "My poor girl," said he, "what is the meaning of it -all?" - -"I don't know. I think they will kill me. They want to kill me. How can I -bear it all? The robbers were here last night, and magistrates and -policemen and people have been here all day." Then she fell into a fit of -sobbing and wailing, which was, in truth, hysterical. For, if the readers -think of it, the poor woman had a great deal to bear. - -Frank, into whose mind no glimmer of suspicion against his cousin had yet -entered, and who firmly believed that she had been made a victim because -of the value of her diamonds, and who had a theory of his own about the -robbery at Carlisle, to the circumstances of which he was now at some -pains to make these latter circumstances adhere, was very tender with his -cousin, and remained in the house for more than an hour. "Oh, Frank, what -had I better do?" she asked him. - -"I would leave London, if I were you." - -"Yes; of course. I will. Oh yes, I will." - -"If you don't fear the cold of Scotland----" - -"I fear nothing, nothing but being where these policemen can come to me. -Oh!" and then she shuddered and was again hysterical. Nor was she acting -the condition. As she remembered the magistrates, and the detectives, and -the policemen in their uniforms, and reflected that she might probably see -much more of them before the game was played out, the thoughts that -crowded on her were almost more than she could bear. - -"Your child is there, and it is your own house. Go there till all this -passes by." Whereupon she promised him that, as soon as she was well -enough, she would at once go to Scotland. - -In the mean time, the Eustace diamonds were locked up in a small safe -fixed into the wall at the back of a small cellar beneath the -establishment of Messrs. Harter & Benjamin, in Minto Lane, in the City. -Messrs. Harter & Benjamin always kept a second place of business. Their -great shop was at the West End; but they had accommodation in the City. - -The chronicler states this at once, as he scorns to keep from his reader -any secret that is known to himself. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII - -LIZZIE'S SICK-ROOM - - -When the Hertford Street robbery was three days old, and was still the -talk of all the town, Lizzie Eustace was really ill. She had promised to -go down to Scotland in compliance with the advice given to her by her -cousin Frank, and at the moment of promising would have been willing -enough to be transported at once to Portray, had that been possible--so as -to be beyond the visits of policemen and the authority of lawyers and -magistrates; but as the hours passed over her head, and as her presence of -mind returned to her, she remembered that even at Portray she would not be -out of danger, and that she could do nothing in furtherance of her plans -if once immured there. Lord George was in London, Frank Greystock was in -London, and Lord Fawn was in London. It was more than ever necessary to -her that she should find a husband among them, a husband who would not be -less her husband when the truth of that business at Carlisle should be -known to all the world. She had, in fact, stolen nothing. She endeavoured -to comfort herself by repeating to herself over and over again that -assurance. She had stolen nothing; and she still thought that if she could -obtain the support of some strong arm on which to lean, she might escape -punishment for those false oaths which she had sworn. Her husband might -take her abroad, and the whole thing would die away. If she should succeed -with Lord George, of course he would take her abroad, and there would be -no need for any speedy return. They might roam among islands in pleasant -warm suns, and the dreams of her youth might be realised. Her income was -still her own. They could not touch that. So she thought, at least, -oppressed by some slight want of assurance in that respect. Were she to go -at once to Scotland, she must for the present give up that game -altogether. If Frank would pledge himself to become her husband in three -or four, or even in six months, she would go at once. She had more -confidence in Frank than even in Lord George. As for love, she would -sometimes tell herself that she was violently in love; but she hardly knew -with which. Lord George was certainly the best representative of that -perfect Corsair which her dreams had represented to her; but, in regard to -working life, she thought that she liked her cousin Frank better than she -had ever yet liked any other human being. But, in truth, she was now in -that condition, as she acknowledged to herself, that she was hardly -entitled to choose. Lord Fawn had promised to marry her, and to him as a -husband she conceived that she still had a right. Nothing had as yet been -proved against her which could justify him in repudiating his engagement. -She had, no doubt, asserted with all vehemence to her cousin that no -consideration would now induce her to give her hand to Lord Fawn; and when -making that assurance she had been, after her nature, sincere. But -circumstances were changed since that. She had not much hope that Lord -Fawn might be made to succumb, though evidence had reached her before the -last robbery which induced her to believe that he did not consider himself -to be quite secure. In these circumstances she was unwilling to leave -London though she had promised, and was hardly sorry to find an excuse in -her recognised illness. - -And she was ill. Though her mind was again at work with schemes on which -she would not have busied herself without hope, yet she had not recovered -from the actual bodily prostration to which she had been compelled to give -way when first told of the robbery on her return from the theatre. There -had been moments then in which she thought that her heart would have -broken; moments in which, but that the power of speech was wanting, she -would have told everything to Lucinda Roanoke. When Mrs. Carbuncle was -marching up-stairs with the policemen at her heels she would willingly -have sold all her hopes, Portray Castle, her lovers, her necklace, her -income, her beauty, for any assurance of the humblest security. With that -quickness of intellect which was her peculiar gift, she had soon -understood, in the midst of her sufferings, that her necklace had been -taken by thieves whose robbery might assist her for a while in keeping her -secret, rather than lead to the immediate divulging of it. Neither -Camperdown nor Bunfit had been at work among the boxes. Her secret had -been discovered, no doubt, by Patience Crabstick, and the diamonds were -gone. But money also was taken, and the world need not know that the -diamonds had been there. But Lord George knew. And then there arose to her -that question: Had the diamonds been taken in consequence of that -revelation to Lord George? It was not surprising that in the midst of all -this Lizzie should be really ill. - -She was most anxious to see Lord George; but, if what Mrs. Carbuncle said -to her was true, Lord George refused to see her. She did not believe Mrs. -Carbuncle, and was, therefore, quite in the dark about her Corsair. As she -could communicate with him only through Mrs. Carbuncle, it might well be -the case that he should have been told that he could not have access to -her. Of course there were difficulties. That her cousin Frank should see -her in her bedroom--her cousin Frank, with whom it was essentially -necessary that she should hold counsel as to her present great -difficulties--was a matter of course. There was no hesitation about that. -A fresh nightcap, and a clean pocket handkerchief with a bit of lace round -it, and perhaps some pretty covering to her shoulders if she were to be -required to sit up in bed, and the thing was arranged. He might have spent -the best part of his days in her bedroom if he could have spared the time. -But the Corsair was not a cousin, nor as yet an acknowledged lover. There -was difficulty even in framing a reason for her request, when she made it -to Mrs. Carbuncle; and the very reason which she gave was handed back to -her as the Corsair's reason for not coming to her. She desired to see him -because he had been so mixed up in the matter of these terrible robberies. -But Mrs. Carbuncle declared to her that Lord George would not come to her -because his name had been so frequently mentioned in connection with the -diamonds. "You see, my dear," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "there can be no real -reason for his seeing you up in your bedroom. If there had been anything -between you, as I once thought there would----." There was something in -the tone of Mrs. Carbuncle's voice which grated on Lizzie's ear, something -which seemed to imply that all that prospect was over. - -"Of course," said Lizzie querulously, "I am very anxious to know what he -thinks. I care more about his opinion than anybody else's. As to his name -being mixed up in it, that is all a joke." - -"It has been no joke to him, I can assure you," said Mrs. Carbuncle. -Lizzie could not press her request. Of course she knew more about it than -did Mrs. Carbuncle. The secret was in her own bosom, the secret as to the -midnight robbery at Carlisle, and that secret she had told to Lord George. -As to the robbery in London she knew nothing, except that it had been -perpetrated through the treachery of Patience Crabstick. Did Lord George -know more about it than she knew? and if so, was he now deterred by that -knowledge from visiting her? "You see, my dear," said Mrs. Carbuncle, -"that a gentleman visiting a lady with whom he has no connection, in her -bedroom, is in itself something very peculiar." Lizzie made a motion of -impatience under the bedclothes. Any such argument was trash to her, and -she knew that it was trash to Mrs. Carbuncle also. What was one man in her -bedroom more than another? She could see a dozen doctors if she pleased, -and if so, why not this man, whose real powers of doctoring her would be -so much more efficacious? "You would want to see him alone, too," -continued Mrs. Carbuncle, "and, of course, the police would hear of it. I -am not at all surprised that he should stay away." Lizzie's condition did -not admit of much argument on her side, and she only showed her opposition -to Mrs. Carbuncle by being cross and querulous. - -Frank Greystock came to her with great constancy almost every day, and -from him she did hear about the robbery all that he knew or heard. When -three days had passed, when six days, and even when ten days were gone, -nobody had been as yet arrested. The police, according to Frank, were much -on the alert, but were very secret. They either would not or could not -tell anything. To him the two robberies, that at Carlisle and the last -affair in Hertford Street, were of course distinct. There were those who -believed that the Hertford Street thieves and the Carlisle thieves were -not only the same, but that they had been in quest of the same plunder, -and had at last succeeded. But Frank was not one of these. He never for a -moment doubted that the diamonds had been taken at Carlisle, and explained -the second robbery by the supposition that Patience Crabstick had been -emboldened by success. The iron box had no doubt been taken by her -assistance, and her familiarity with the thieves, then established, had -led to the second robbery. Lizzie's loss in that second robbery had -amounted to some hundred pounds. This was Frank Greystock's theory, and of -course it was one very comfortable to Lizzie. - -"They all seem to think that the diamonds are at Paris," he said to her -one day. - -"If you only knew how little I care about them! It seems as though I had -almost forgotten them in these after troubles." - -"Mr. Camperdown cares about them. I'm told he says that he can make you -pay for them out of your jointure." - -"That would be very terrible, of course," said Lizzie, to whose mind there -was something consolatory in the idea that the whole affair of the robbery -might perhaps remain so mysterious as to remove her from the danger of -other punishment than this. - -"I feel sure that he couldn't do it," said Frank, "and I don't think he'll -try it. John Eustace would not let him. It would be persecution." - -"Mr. Camperdown has always chosen to persecute me," said Lizzie. - -"I can understand that he shouldn't like the loss of the diamonds. I don't -think, Lizzie, you ever realized their true value." - -"I suppose not. After all, a necklace is only a necklace. I cared nothing -for it--except that I could not bear the idea that that man should dictate -to me. I would have given it up at once, at the slightest word from you." -He did not care to remind her then, as she lay in bed, that he had been -very urgent in his advice to her to abandon the diamonds; and not the less -urgent because he had thought that the demand for them was unjust. "I told -you often;" she continued, "that I was tempted to throw them among the -waves. It was true, quite true. I offered to give them to you, and should -have been delighted to have been relieved from them." - -"That was of course simply impossible." - -"I know it was impossible on your part; but I would have been delighted. -Of what use were they to me? I wore them twice because that man"--meaning -Lord Fawn--"disputed my right to them. Before that I never even looked at -them. Do you think I had pleasure in wearing them, or pleasure in looking -at them? Never. They were only a trouble to me. It was a point of honour -with me to keep them, because I was attacked. But I am glad they are gone ---thoroughly glad." This was all very well, and was not without its effect -on Frank Greystock. It is hardly expected of a woman in such a condition, -with so many troubles on her mind, who had been so persecuted, that every -word uttered by her should be strictly true. Lizzie with her fresh -nightcap and her lace handkerchief, pale, and with her eyes just -glittering with tears, was very pretty. - -"Didn't somebody once give some one a garment which scorched him up when -he wore it--some woman who sent it because she loved the man so much?" - -"The shirt, you mean, which Deianira sent to Hercules. Yes, Hercules was a -good deal scorched." - -"And that necklace, which my husband gave me because he loved me so well, -has scorched me horribly. It has nearly killed me. It has been like the -white elephant which the Eastern king gives to his subject when he means -to ruin him. Only poor Florian didn't mean to hurt me. He gave it all in -love. If these people bring a lawsuit against me, Frank, you must manage -it for me." - -"There will be no lawsuit. Your brother-in-law will stop it.'r - -"I wonder who will really get the diamonds after all, Frank? They were -very valuable. Only think that the ten thousand pounds should disappear in -such a way!" The subject was a very dangerous one, but there was a -fascination about it which made it impossible for her to refrain from it. - -"A dishonest dealer in diamonds will probably realise the plunder--after -some years. There would be something very alluring in the theft of -articles of great value, were it not that, when got, they at once become -almost valueless by the difficulty of dealing with them. Supposing I had -the necklace!" - -"I wish you had, Frank." - -"I could do nothing with it. Ten sovereigns would go further with me--or -ten shillings. The burden of possessing it would in itself be almost more -than I could bear. The knowledge that I had the thing, and might be -discovered in having it, would drive me mad. By my own weakness I should -be compelled to tell my secret to some one. And then I should never sleep -for fear my partner in the matter should turn against me." How well she -understood it all! How probable it was that Lord George should turn -against her! How exact was Frank's description of that burden of a secret -so heavy that it cannot be borne alone! "A little reflection," continued -Frank, "soon convinces a man that rough downright stealing is an awkward, -foolish trade; and it therefore falls into the hands of those who want -education for the higher efforts of dishonesty. To get into a bank at -midnight and steal what little there may be in the till, or even an armful -of banknotes, with the probability of a policeman catching you as you -creep out of the chimney and through a hole, is clumsy work; but to walk -in amidst the smiles and bows of admiring managers and draw out money over -the counter by thousands and tens of thousands, which you have never put -in and which you can never repay, and which, when all is done, you have -only borrowed--that is a great feat." - -"Do you really think so?" - -"The courage, the ingenuity, and the self-confidence needed are certainly -admirable. And then there is a cringing and almost contemptible littleness -about honesty, which hardly allows it to assert itself. The really honest -man can never say a word to make those who don't know of his honesty -believe that it is there. He has one foot in the grave before his -neighbours have learned that he is possessed of an article for the use of -which they would so willingly have paid, could they have been made to see -that it was there. The dishonest man almost doubts whether in him -dishonesty is dishonest, let it be practised ever so widely. The honest -man almost doubts whether his honesty be honest, unless it be kept hidden. -Let two unknown men be competitors for any place, with nothing to guide -the judges but their own words and their own looks, and who can doubt but -the dishonest man would be chosen rather than the honest? Honesty goes -about with a hang-dog look about him, as though knowing that he cannot be -trusted till he be proved. Dishonesty carries his eyes high, and assumes -that any question respecting him must be considered to be unnecessary." - -"Oh, Frank, what a philosopher you are." - -"Well, yes; meditating about your diamonds has brought my philosophy out. -When do you think you will go to Scotland?" - -"I am hardly strong enough for the journey yet. I fear the cold so much." - -"You would not find it cold there by the seaside. To tell you the truth, -Lizzie, I want to get you out of this house. I don't mean to say a word -against Mrs. Carbuncle; but after all that has occurred, it would be -better that you should be away. People talk about you and Lord George." - -"How can I help it, Frank?" - -"By going away--that is, if I may presume one thing. I don't want to pry -into your secrets." - -"I have none from you." - -"Unless there be truth in the assertion that you are engaged to marry Lord -George Carruthers." - -"There is no truth in it." - -"And you do not wish to stay here in order that there may be an -engagement? I am obliged to ask you home questions, Lizzie, as I could not -otherwise advise you." - -"You do, indeed, ask home questions." - -"I will desist at once, if they be disagreeable." - -"Frank, you are false to me." As she said this she rose in her bed, and -sat with her eyes fixed upon his, and her thin hands stretched out upon -the bedclothes. "You know that I cannot wish to be engaged to him or to -any other man. You know, better almost than I can know myself, how my -heart stands. There has, at any rate, been no hypocrisy with me in regard -to you. Everything has been told to you--at what cost I will not now say. -The honest woman, I fear, fares worse even than the honest man of whom you -spoke. I think you admitted that he would be appreciated at last. She to -her dying day must pay the penalty of her transgressions. Honesty in a -woman the world never forgives." When she had done speaking, he sat silent -by her bedside, but, almost unconsciously, he stretched out his left hand -and took her right hand in his. For a few seconds she admitted this, and -she lay there with their hands clasped. Then with a start she drew back -her arm, and retreated as it were from his touch. "How dare you," said -she, "press my hand when you know that such pressure from you is -treacherous and damnable?" - -"Damnable, Lizzie!" - -"Yes--damnable. I will not pick my words for you. Coming from you, what -does such pressure mean?" - -"Affection." - -"Yes--and of what sort? You are wicked enough to feed my love by such -tokens, when you know that you do not mean to return it. Oh, Frank, Frank, -will you give me back my heart? What was it that you promised me when we -sat together upon the rocks at Portray?" - -It is inexpressibly difficult for a man to refuse the tender of a woman's -love. We may almost say that a man should do so as a matter of course-- -that the thing so offered becomes absolutely valueless by the offer--that -the woman who can make it has put herself out of court by her own -abandonment of privileges due to her as a woman--that stern rebuke and -even expressed contempt are justified by such conduct--and that the -fairest beauty and most alluring charms of feminine grace should lose -their attraction when thus tendered openly in the market. No doubt such is -our theory as to love and lovemaking. But the action to be taken by us in -matters as to which the plainest theory prevails for the guidance of our -practice, depends so frequently on accompanying circumstances and -correlative issues, that the theory, as often as not, falls to the ground. -Frank could not despise this woman, and could not be stern to her. He -could not bring himself to tell her boldly that he would have nothing to -say to her in the way of love. He made excuses for her, and persuaded -himself that there were peculiar circumstances in her position justifying -unwomanly conduct, although, had he examined himself on the subject, he -would have found it difficult to say what those circumstances were. She -was rich, beautiful, clever--and he was flattered. Nevertheless he knew -that he could not marry her; and he knew also that much as he liked her he -did not love her. "Lizzie," he said, "I think you hardly understand my -position." - -"Yes, I do. That little girl has cozened you out of a promise." - -"If it be so, you would not have me break it?" - -"Yes, I would, if you think she is not fit to be your wife. Is a man such -as you are, to be tied by the leg for life, have all his ambition clipped, -and his high hopes shipwrecked, because a girl has been clever enough to -extract a word from him? Is it not true that you are in debt?" - -"What of that? At any rate, Lizzie, I do not want help from you." - -"That is so like a man's pride! Do we not all know that in such a career -as you have marked out for yourself, wealth, or at any rate an easy -income, is necessary? Do you think that I cannot put two and two together? -Do you believe so meanly of me as to imagine that I should have said to -you what I have said, if I did not know that I could help you? A man, I -believe, cannot understand that love which induces a woman to sacrifice -her pride simply for his advantage. I want to see you prosper. I want to -see you a great man and a lord, and I know that you cannot become so -without an income. Ah, I wish I could give you all that I have got, and -save you from the encumbrance that is attached to it!" - -It might be that he would then have told her of his engagement to Lucy, -and of his resolution to adhere to that promise, had not Mrs. Carbuncle at -that moment entered the room. Frank had been there for above an hour, and -as Lizzie was still an invalid, and to some extent under the care of Mrs. -Carbuncle, it was natural that that lady should interfere. "You know, my -dear, you should not exhaust yourself altogether. Mr. Emilius is to come -to you this afternoon." - -"Mr. Emilius!" said Greystock. - -"Yes--the clergyman. Don't you remember him at Portray? A dark man with -eyes close together! You used to be very wicked, and say that he was once -a Jew boy in the streets." Lizzie, as she spoke of her spiritual guide, -was evidently not desirous of doing him much honour. - -"I remember him well enough. He made sheep's eyes at Miss Macnulty, and -drank a great deal of wine at dinner." - -"Poor Macnulty! I don't believe a word about the wine; and as for -Macnulty, I don't see why she should not be converted as well as another. -He is coming here to read to me. I hope you don't object." - -"Not in the least--if you like it." - -"One does have solemn thoughts sometimes, Frank--especially when one is -ill." - -"Oh, yes. Well or ill, one does have solemn thoughts--ghosts, as it were, -which will appear. But is Mr. Emilius good at laying such apparitions?" - -"He is a clergyman, Mr. Greystock," said Mrs. Carbuncle, with something of -rebuke in her voice. - -"So they tell me. I was not present at his ordination, but I dare say it -was done according to rule. When one reflects what a deal of harm a bishop -may do, one wishes that there was some surer way of getting bishops." - -"Do you know anything against Mr. Emilius?" asked Lizzie. - -"Nothing at all but his looks, and manners, and voice, unless it be that -he preaches popular sermons, and drinks too much wine, and makes sheep's -eyes at Miss Macnulty. Look after your silver spoons, Mrs. Carbuncle, if -the last thieves have left you any. You were asking after the fate of your -diamonds, Lizzie. Perhaps they will endow a Protestant church in Mr. -Emilius's native land." - -Mr. Emilius did come and read to Lady Eustace that afternoon. A clergyman -is as privileged to enter the bedroom of a sick lady as is a doctor or a -cousin. There was another clean cap, and another laced handkerchief, and -on this occasion a little shawl over Lizzie's shoulders. Mr. Emilius first -said a prayer, kneeling at Lizzie's bedside; then he read a chapter in the -Bible; and after that he read the first half of the fourth canto of Childe -Harold so well, that Lizzie felt for the moment that after all poetry was -life, and life was poetry. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV - -"I SUPPOSE I MAY SAY A WORD" - - -The second robbery to which Lady Eustace had been subjected by no means -decreased the interest which was attached to her and her concerns in the -fashionable world. Parliament had now met, and the party at Matching -Priory, Lady Glencora Palliser's party in the country, had been to some -extent broken up. All those gentlemen who were engaged in the service of -Her Majesty's Government had necessarily gone to London, and they who had -wives at Matching had taken their wives with them. Mr. and Mrs. Bonteen -had seen the last of their holiday; Mr. Palliser himself was, of course, -at his post; and all the private secretaries were with the public -secretaries on the scene of action. On the 13th of February Mr. Palliser -made his first great statement in Parliament on the matter of the five- -farthinged penny, and pledged himself to do his very best to carry that -stupendous measure through Parliament in the present session. The City men -who were in the House that night, and all the directors of the Bank of -England, were in the gallery, and every chairman of a great banking -company, and every Baring and every Rothschild, if there be Barings and -Rothschilds who have not been returned by constituencies, and have not -seats in the House by right, agreed in declaring that the job in hand was -too much for any one member or any one session. Some said that such a -measure never could be passed, because the unfinished work of one session -could not be used in lessening the labours of the next. Everything must be -recommenced; and therefore, so said these hopeless ones, the penny with -five farthings, the penny of which a hundred would make ten shillings, the -halcyon penny which would make all future pecuniary calculations easy to -the meanest British capacity, could never become the law of the land. -Others, more hopeful, were willing to believe that gradually the thing -would so sink into the minds of members of Parliament, of writers of -leading articles, and of the active public generally, as to admit of -certain established axioms being taken as established, and placed, as it -were, beyond the procrastinating power of debate. It might, for instance, -at last be taken for granted that a decimal system was desirable, so that -a month or two of the spring need not be consumed on that preliminary -question. But this period had not as yet been reached, and it was thought -by the entire City that Mr. Palliser was much too sanguine. It was so -probable, many said, that he might kill himself by labour which would be -Herculean in all but success, and that no financier after him would -venture to face the task. It behooved Lady Glencora to see that her -Hercules did not kill himself. - -In this state of affairs Lady Glencora, into whose hands the custody of -Mr. Palliser's uncle, the duke, had now altogether fallen, had a divided -duty between Matching and London. When the members of Parliament went up -to London, she went there also, leaving some half-dozen friends whom she -could trust to amuse the duke; but she soon returned, knowing that there -might be danger in a long absence. The duke, though old, was his own -master; he much affected the company of Madame Goesler, and that lady's -kindness to him was considerate and incessant; but there might still be -danger, and Lady Glencora felt that she was responsible that the old -nobleman should do nothing, in the feebleness of age, to derogate from the -splendour of his past life. What if some day his grace should be off to -Paris and insist on making Madame Goesler a duchess in the chapel of the -Embassy? Madame Goesler had hitherto behaved very well; would probably -continue to behave well. Lady Glencora really loved Madame Goesler. But -then the interests at stake were very great! So circumstanced, Lady -Glencora found herself compelled to be often on the road between Matching -and London. - -But though she was burthened with great care, Lady Glencora by no means -dropped her interest in the Eustace diamonds; and when she learned that on -the top of the great Carlisle robbery a second robbery had been -superadded, and that this had been achieved while all the London police -were yet astray about the former operation, her solicitude was of course -enhanced. The duke himself, too, took the matter up so strongly that he -almost wanted to be carried up to London, with some view, as it was -supposed by the ladies who were so good to him, of seeing Lady Eustace -personally. - -"It's out of the question, my dear," Lady Glencora said to Madame Goesler, -when the duke's fancy was first mentioned to her by that lady. - -"I told him that the trouble would be too much for him." - -"Of course it would be too much," said Lady Glencora. "It is quite out of -the question." Then after a moment she added, in a whisper, "Who knows but -what he'd insist on marrying her? It isn't every woman that can resist -temptation." Madame Goesler smiled and shook her head, but made no answer -to Lady Glencora's suggestion. Lady Glencora assured her uncle that -everything should be told to him. She would write about it daily, and send -him the latest news by the wires if the post should be too slow. - -"Ah, yes," said the duke. "I like telegrams best. I think, you know, that -that Lord George Carruthers had had something to do with it. Don't you, -Madame Goesler?" It had long been evident that the duke was anxious that -one of his own order should be proved to have been the thief, as the -plunder taken was so lordly. - -In regard to Lizzie herself, Lady Glencora, on her return to London, took -it into her head to make a diversion in our heroine's favour. It had -hitherto been a matter of faith with all the liberal party that Lady -Eustace had had something to do with stealing her own diamonds. That -_esprit de corps_ which is the glorious characteristic of English -statesmen had caused the whole Government to support Lord Fawn, and Lord -Fawn could be supported only on the supposition that Lizzie Eustace had -been a wicked culprit. But Lady Glencora, though very true as a -politician, was apt to have opinions of her own, and to take certain -flights in which she chose that others of the party should follow her. She -now expressed an opinion that Lady Eustace was a victim, and all the Mrs. -Bonteens, with some even of the Mr. Bonteens, found themselves compelled -to agree with her. She stood too high among her set to be subject to that -obedience which restrained others; too high, also, for others to resist -her leading. As a member of a party she was erratic and dangerous, but -from her position and peculiar temperament she was powerful. When she -declared that poor Lady Eustace was a victim, others were obliged to say -so too. This was particularly hard upon Lord Fawn, and the more so as Lady -Glencora took upon her to assert that Lord Fawn had no right to jilt the -young woman. And Lady Glencora had this to support her views--that for the -last week past, indeed ever since the depositions which had been taken -after the robbery in Hertford Street, the police had expressed no fresh -suspicions in regard to Lizzie Eustace. She heard daily from Barrington -Erie that Major Mackintosh and Bunfit and Gager were as active as ever in -their inquiries, that all Scotland Yard was determined to unravel the -mystery, and that there were emissaries at work tracking the diamonds at -Hamburg, Paris, Vienna, and New York. It had been whispered to Mr. Erie -that the whereabouts of Patience Crabstick had been discovered, and that -many of the leading thieves in London were assisting the police; but -nothing more was done in the way of fixing any guilt upon Lizzie Eustace. -"Upon my word, I am beginning to think that she has been more sinned -against than sinning." This was said to Lady Glencora on the morning after -Mr. Palliser's great speech about the five farthings, by Barrington Erie, -who, as it seemed, had been specially told off by the party to watch this -investigation. - -"I am sure she has had nothing to do with it. I have thought so ever since -the last robbery. Sir Simon Slope told me yesterday afternoon that Mr. -Camperdown has given it up altogether." Sir Simon Slope was the Solicitor- -General of that day. - -"It would be absurd for him to go on with his bill in Chancery now that -the diamonds are gone, unless he meant to make her pay for them." - -"That would be rank persecution. Indeed, she has been persecuted. I shall -call upon her." Then she wrote the following letter to the duke: - -"FEBRUARY 14, 18--. - -"MY DEAR DUKE: Plantagenet was on his legs last night for three hours and -three-quarters, and I sat through it all. As far as I could observe -through the bars I was the only person in the House who listened to him. -I'm sure Mr. Gresham was fast asleep. It was quite piteous to see some of -them yawning. Plantagenet did it very well, and I almost think I -understood him. They seem to say that nobody on the other side will take -trouble enough to make a regular opposition, but there are men in the City -who will write letters to the newspapers, and get up a sort of Bank -clamour. Plantagenet says nothing about it, but there is a do-or-die -manner with him which is quite tragical. The House was up at eleven, when -he came home and eat three oysters; drank a glass of beer, and slept well. -They say the real work will come when it's in Committee; that is, if it -gets there. The bill is to be brought in, and will be read the first time -next Monday week. - -"As to the robberies, I believe there is no doubt that the police have got -hold of the young woman. They don't arrest her, but deal with her in a -friendly sort of way. Barrington Erle says that a sergeant is to marry her -in order to make quite sure of her. I suppose they know their business; -but that wouldn't strike me as being the safest way. They seem to think -the diamonds went to Paris, but have since been sent on to New York. - -"As to the little widow, I do believe she has been made a victim. She -first lost her diamonds, and now her other jewels and her money have gone. -I cannot see what she was to gain by treachery, and I think she has been -ill-used. She is staying at the house of that Mrs. Carbuncle, but all the -same I shall go and call on her. I wish you could see her, because she is -such a little beauty, just what you would like; not so much colour as our -friend, but perfect features, with infinite play, not perhaps always in -the best taste; but then we can't have everything, can we, dear duke? - -"As to the real thief--of course you must burn this at once, and keep it -strictly private as coming from me--I fancy that delightful Scotch lord -managed it entirely. The idea is, that he did it on commission for the Jew -jewellers. I don't suppose he had money enough to carry it out himself. As -to the second robbery, whether he had or had not a hand in that, I can't -make up my mind. I don't see why he shouldn't. If a man does go into a -business, he ought to make the best of it. Of course it was a poor thing -after the diamonds; but still it was worth having. There is some story -about a Sir Griffin Tewett. He's a real Sir Griffin, as you'll find by the -peerage. He was to marry a young woman, and our Lord George insists that -he shall marry her. I don't understand all about it, but the girl lives in -the same house with Lady Eustace, and if I call I shall find out. They say -that Sir Griffin knows all about the necklace, and threatens to tell -unless he is let off marrying. I rather think the girl is Lord George's -daughter, so that there is a thorough complication. - -"I shall go down to Matching on Saturday. If anything turns up before -that, I'll write again, or send a message. I don't know whether -Plantagenet will be able to leave London. He says he must be back on -Monday, and that he loses too much time on the road. Kiss my little -darlings for me"--the darlings were Lady Glencora's children, and the -duke's playthings--"and give my love to Madame Max. I suppose you don't -see much of the others. - -"Most affectionately yours, - -"GLENCORA." - -On the next day Lady Glencora actually did call in Hertford Street and saw -our friend Lizzie. She was told by the servant that Lady Eustace was in -bed; but, with her usual persistence, she asked questions, and when she -found that Lizzie did receive visitors in her room, she sent up her card. -The compliment was one much too great to be refused. Lady Glencora stood -so high in the world that her countenance would be almost as valuable as -another lover. If Lord George would keep her secret, and Lady Glencora -would be her friend, might she not still be a successful woman? So Lady -Glencora Palliser was shown up to Lizzie's chamber. Lizzie was found with -her nicest nightcap and prettiest handkerchief, with a volume of -Tennyson's poetry, and a scent-bottle. She knew that it behooved her to be -very clever at this interview. Her instinct told her that her first -greeting should show more of surprise than of gratification. Accordingly, -in a pretty, feminine, almost childish way, she was very much surprised. -"I'm doing the strangest thing in the world, I know, Lady Eustace," said -Lady Glencora with a smile. - -"I'm sure you mean to do a kind thing." - -"Well, yes, I do. I think we have not met since you were at my house near -the end of last season." - -"No, indeed. I have been in London six weeks, but have not been out much. -For the last fortnight I have been in bed. I have had things to trouble me -so much that they have made me ill." - -"So I have heard, Lady Eustace, and I have just come to offer you my -sympathy. When I was told that you did see people, I thought that perhaps -you would admit me." - -"So willingly, Lady Glencora!" - -"I have heard, of course, of your terrible losses." - -"The loss has been as nothing to the vexation that has accompanied it. I -don't know how to speak of it. Ladies have lost their jewels before now, -but I don't know that any lady before me has ever been accused of stealing -them herself." - -"There has been no accusation, surely?" - -"I haven't exactly been put in prison, Lady Glencora, but I have had -policemen here wanting to search my things; and then you know yourself -what reports have been spread." - -"Oh, yes, I do. Only for that, to tell you plainly, I should hardly have -been here now." Then Lady Glencora poured out her sympathy--perhaps with -more eloquence and grace than discretion. She was, at any rate, both -graceful and eloquent. "As for the loss of the diamonds, I think you bear -it wonderfully," said Lady Glencora. - -"If you could imagine how little I care about it!" said Lizzie with -enthusiasm. "They had lost the delight which I used to feel in them as a -present from my husband. People had talked about them, and I had been -threatened because I chose to keep what I knew to be my own. Of course I -would not give them up. Would you have given them up, Lady Glencora?" - -"Certainly not." - -"Nor would I. But when once all that had begun, they became an -irrepressible burden to me. I often used to say that I would throw them -into the sea." - -"I don't think I would have done that," said Lady Glencora. - -"Ah--you have never suffered as I have suffered." - -"We never know where each other's shoes pinch each other's toes." - -"You have never been left desolate. You have a husband and friends." - -"A husband that wants to put five farthings into a penny! All is not gold -that glistens, Lady Eustace." - -"You can never have known trials such as mine," continued Lizzie, not -understanding in the least her new friend's allusion to the great currency -question. "Perhaps you may have heard that in the course of last summer I -became engaged to marry a nobleman, with whom I am aware that you are -acquainted." This she said in her softest whisper. - -"Oh, yes--Lord Fawn. I know him very well. Of course I heard of it. We all -heard of it." - -"And you have heard how he has treated me?" - -"Yes--indeed." - -"I will say nothing about him--to you, Lady Glencora. It would not be -proper that I should do so. But all that came of this wretched necklace. -After that, can you wonder that I should say that I wish these stones had -been thrown into the sea?" - -"I suppose Lord Fawn will--will come all right again now?" said Lady -Glencora. - -"All right!" exclaimed Lizzie in astonishment. - -"His objection to the marriage will now be over." - -"I'm sure I do not in the least know what are his lordship's views," said -Lizzie in scorn, "and, to tell the truth, I do not very much care." - -"What I mean is, that he didn't like you to have the Eustace diamonds----" - -"They were not Eustace diamonds. They were my diamonds." - -"But he did not like you to have them; and as they are now gone-- -forever----" - -"Oh, yes, they are gone forever." - -"His objection is gone too. Why don't you write to him, and make him come -and see you? That's what I should do." - -Lizzie, of course, repudiated vehemently any idea of forcing Lord Fawn -into a marriage which had become distasteful to him--let the reason be -what it might. - -"His lordship is perfectly free, as far as I am concerned," said Lizzie -with a little show of anger. But all this Lady Glencora took at its worth. -Lizzie Eustace had been a good deal knocked about, and Lady Glencora did -not doubt but that she would be very glad to get back her betrothed -husband. The little woman had suffered hardships, so thought Lady -Glencora--and a good thing would be done by bringing her into fashion, and -setting the marriage up again. As to Lord Fawn--the fortune was there, as -good now as it had been when he first sought it; and the lady was very -pretty, a baronet's widow too--and in all respects good enough for Lord -Fawn. A very pretty little baronet's widow she was, with four thousand a -year, and a house in Scotland, and a history. Lady Glencora determined -that she would remake the match. "I think, you know, friends who have been -friends should be brought together. I suppose I may say a word to Lord -Fawn?" Lizzie hesitated would be sweet to her. She had sworn that she -would be revenged upon Lord Fawn. After all, might it not suit her best to -carry out her oath by marrying him? But whether so or otherwise, it could -not but be well for her that he should be again at her feet. "Yes, if you -think good will come of it." The acquiescence was given with much -hesitation; but the circumstances required that it should be so, and Lady -Glencora fully understood the circumstances. When she took her leave, -Lizzie was profuse in her gratitude. "Oh, Lady Glencora, it has been so -good of you to come. Pray come again, if you can spare me another moment." -Lady Glencora said that she would come again. - -During the visit she had asked some question concerning Lucinda and Sir -Griffin, and had been informed that that marriage was to go on. A hint had -been thrown out as to Lucinda's parentage; but Lizzie had not understood -the hint, and the question had not been pressed. - - - - -CHAPTER LV - -QUINTS OR SEMITENTHS - - -The task which Lady Glencora had taken upon herself was not a very easy -one. No doubt Lord Fawn was a man subservient to the leaders of his party, -much afraid of the hard judgment of those with whom, he was concerned, -painfully open to impression from what he would have called public -opinion, to a certain extent a coward, most anxious to do right so that he -might not be accused of being in the wrong, and at the same time gifted -with but little of that insight into things which teaches men to know what -is right and what is wrong. Lady Glencora, having perceived all this, felt -that he was a man upon whom a few words from her might have an effect. But -even Lady Glencora might hesitate to tell a gentleman that he ought to -marry a lady, when the gentleman had already declared his intention of not -marrying and had attempted to justify his decision almost publicly by a -reference to the lady's conduct! Lady Glencora almost felt that she had -undertaken too much as she turned over in her mind the means she had of -performing her promise to Lady Eustace. - -The five-farthing bill had been laid upon the table on a Tuesday, and was -to be read the first time on the following Monday week. On the Wednesday -Lady Glencora had written to the duke, and had called in Hertford Street. -On the following Sunday she was at Matching, looking after the duke; but -she returned to London on the Tuesday, and on the Wednesday there was a -little dinner at Mr. Palliser's house, given avowedly with the object of -further friendly discussion respecting the new Palliser penny. The prime -minister was to be there, and Mr. Bonteen, and Barrington Erle, and those -special members of the Government who would be available for giving -special help to the financial Hercules of the day. A question, perhaps of -no great practical importance, had occurred to Mr. Palliser, but one -which, if overlooked, might be fatal to the ultimate success of the -measure. There is so much in a name, and then an ounce of ridicule is -often more potent than a hundredweight of argument. By what denomination -should the fifth part of a penny be hereafter known? Some one had, ill- -naturedly, whispered to Mr. Palliser that a farthing meant a fourth, and -at once there arose a new trouble, which for a time bore very heavily on -him. Should he boldly disregard the original meaning of the useful old -word; or should he venture on the dangers of new nomenclature? October, as -he said to himself, is still the tenth month of the year, November the -eleventh, and so on, though by these names they are so plainly called the -eighth and ninth. All France tried to rid itself of this absurdity and -failed. Should he stick by the farthing; or should he call it a fifthing, -a quint, or a semitenth? "There's the 'Fortnightly Review' comes out but -once a month," he said to his friend Mr. Bonteen, "and I'm told that it -does very well." Mr. Bonteen, who was a rational man, thought the "Review" -would do better if it were called by a more rational name, and was very -much in favour of "a quint." Mr. Gresham had expressed an opinion, -somewhat off hand, that English people would never be got to talk about -quints, and so there was a difficulty. A little dinner was therefore -arranged, and Mr. Palliser, as was his custom in such matters, put the -affair of the dinner into his wife's hands. When he was told that she had -included Lord Fawn among the guests he opened his eyes. Lord Fawn, who -might be good enough at the India Office, knew literally nothing about the -penny. - -"He'll take it as the greatest compliment in the world," said Lady -Glencora. - -"I don't want to pay Lord Fawn a compliment," said Mr. Palliser. - -"But I do," said Lady Glencora. And so the matter was arranged. - -It was a very nice little dinner. Mrs. Gresham and Mrs. Bonteen were -there, and the great question of the day was settled in two minutes, -before the guests went out of the drawing-room. - -"Stick to your farthing," said Mr. Gresham. - -"I think so," said Mr. Palliser. - -"Quint's a very easy word," said Mr. Bonteen. - -"But squint is an easier," said Mr. Gresham, with all a prime minister's -jocose authority. - -"They'd certainly be called cock-eyes," said Barrington Erie. - -"There's nothing of the sound of a quarter in farthing," said Mr. -Palliser. - -"Stick to the old word," said Mr. Gresham. And so the matter was decided -while Lady Glencora was flattering Lord Fawn as to the manner in which he -had finally arranged the affair of the Sawab of Mygawb. Then they went -down to dinner, and not a word more was said that evening about the new -penny by Mr. Palliser. - -Before dinner Lady Glencora had exacted a promise from Lord Fawn that he -would return to the drawing-room. Lady Glencora was very clever at such -work, and said nothing then of her purpose. She did not want her guests to -run away, and therefore Lord Fawn--Lord Fawn especially--must stay. If he -were to go there would be nothing spoken of all the evening, but that -weary new penny. To oblige her he must remain; and, of course, he did -remain. "Whom do you think I saw the other day?" said Lady Glencora, when -she got her victim into a corner. Of course Lord Fawn had no idea whom she -might have seen. Up to that moment no suspicion of what was coming upon -him had crossed his mind. "I called upon poor Lady Eustace and found her -in bed." Then did Lord Fawn blush up to the roots of his hair, and for a -moment he was stricken dumb. "I do feel for her so much! I think she has -been so hardly used!" - -He was obliged to say something. "My name has of course been much mixed up -with hers." - -"Yes, Lord Fawn, I know it has. And it is because I am so sure of your -high-minded generosity and--and thorough devotion, that I have ventured to -speak to you. I am sure there is nothing you would wish so much as to get -at the truth." - -"Certainly, Lady Glencora." - -"All manner of stories have been told about her, and, as I believe, -without the slightest foundation. They tell me now that she had an -undoubted right to keep the diamonds; that even if Sir Florian did not -give them to her, they were hers under his will. Those lawyers have given -up all idea of proceeding against her." - -"Because the necklace has been stolen." - -"Altogether independently of that. Do you see Mr. Eustace, and ask him if -what I say is not true. If it had not been her own she would have been -responsible for the value, even though it were stolen; and with such a -fortune as hers they would never have allowed her to escape. They were as -bitter against her as they could be; weren't they?" - -"Mr. Camperdown thought that the property should be given up." - -"Oh yes; that's the man's name; a horrid man. I am told that he was really -most cruel to her. And then, because a lot of thieves had got about her-- -after the diamonds, you know, like flies round a honeypot--and took first -her necklace and then her money, they were impudent enough to say that she -had stolen her own things!" - -"I don't think they quite said that, Lady Glencora." - -"Something very much like it, Lord Fawn. I have no doubt in my own mind -who did steal all the things." - -"Who was it?" - -"Oh, one mustn't mention names in such an affair without evidence. At any -rate she has been very badly treated, and I shall take her up. If I were -you I would go and call upon her. I would indeed. I think you owe it to -her. Well, duke, what do you think of Plantagenet's penny now? Will it -ever be worth two half-pence?" This question was asked of the Duke of St. -Bungay, a great nobleman whom all Liberals loved, and a member of the -Cabinet. He had come in since dinner, and had been asking a question or -two as to what had been decided. - -"Well, yes; if properly invested I think it will. I'm glad it is not to -contain five semitenths. A semitenth would never have been a popular form -of money in England. We hate new names so much that we have not yet got -beyond talking of fourpenny bits." - -"There's a great deal in a name, isn't there? You don't think they'll call -them Pallisers, or Palls, or anything of that sort, do you? I shouldn't -like to hear that under the new regime two lollypops were to cost three -Palls. But they say it never can be carried this session, and we sha'n't -be in, in the next year." - -"Who says so? Don't be such a prophetess of evil, Lady Glencora. I mean to -be in for the next three sessions, and I mean to see Palliser's measure -carried through the House of Lords next session. I shall be paying for my -mutton chops at so many quints a chop yet. Don't you think so, Fawn?" - -"I don't know what to think," said Lord Fawn, whose mind was intent on -other matters. After that he left the room as quickly as he could, and -escaped out into the street. His mind was very much disturbed. If Lady -Glencora was determined to take up the cudgels for the woman he had -rejected, the comfort and peace of his life would be over. He knew well -enough how strong was Lady Glencora. - - - - -CHAPTER LVI - -JOB'S COMFORTERS - - -Mrs. Carbuncle and Lady Eustace had now been up in town between six and -seven weeks, and the record of their doings has necessarily dealt chiefly -with robberies and the rumours of robberies. But at intervals the minds of -the two ladies had been intent on other things. The former was still -intent on marrying her niece, Lucinda Roanoke, to Sir Griffin, and the -latter had never for a moment forgotten the imperative duty which lay upon -her of revenging herself upon Lord Fawn. The match between Sir Griffin and -Lucinda was still to be a match. Mrs. Carbuncle persevered in the teeth -both of the gentleman and or the lady, and still promised herself success. -And our Lizzie, in the midst of all her troubles, had not been idle. In -doing her justice we must acknowledge that she had almost abandoned the -hope of becoming Lady Fawn. Other hopes and other ambitions had come upon -her. Latterly the Corsair had been all in all to her, with exceptional -moments in which she told herself that her heart belonged exclusively to -her cousin Frank. But Lord Fawn's offences were not to be forgotten, and -she continually urged upon her cousin the depth of the wrongs which she -had suffered. - -On the part of Frank Greystock there was certainly no desire to let the -Under-Secretary escape. It is hoped that the reader, to whom every tittle -of this story has been told without reserve, and every secret unfolded, -will remember that others were not treated with so much open candour. The -reader knows much more of Lizzie Eustace than did her cousin Frank. He, -indeed, was not quite in love with Lizzie; but to him she was a pretty, -graceful young woman, to whom he was bound by many ties, and who had been -cruelly injured. Dangerous she was doubtless, and perhaps a little -artificial. To have had her married to Lord Fawn would have been a good -thing, and would still be a good thing. According to all the rules known -in such matters Lord Fawn was bound to marry her. He had become engaged to -her, and Lizzie had done nothing to forfeit her engagement. As to the -necklace, the plea made for jilting her on that ground was a disgraceful -pretext. Everybody was beginning to perceive that Mr. Camperdown would -never have succeeded in getting the diamonds from her, even if they had -not been stolen. It was "preposterous," as Frank said over and over again -to his friend Herriot, that a man when he was engaged to a lady, should -take upon himself to judge her conduct as Lord Fawn had done, and then -ride out of his engagement on a verdict found by himself. Frank had -therefore willingly displayed alacrity in persecuting his lordship, and -had not been altogether without hope that he might drive the two into a -marriage yet, in spite of the protestations made by Lizzie at Portray. - -Lord Fawn had certainly not spent a happy winter. Between Mrs. Hittaway on -one side and Frank Greystock on the other, his life had been a burthen to -him. It had been suggested to him by various people that he was behaving -badly to the lady, who was represented as having been cruelly misused by -fortune and by himself. On the other hand it had been hinted to him, that -nothing was too bad to believe of Lizzie Eustace, and that no calamity -could be so great as that by which he would be overwhelmed were he still -to allow himself to be forced into that marriage. "It would be better," -Mrs. Hittaway had said, "to retire to Ireland at once and cultivate your -demesne in Tipperary." This was a grievous sentence, and one which had -greatly excited the brother's wrath; but it had shown how very strong was -his sister's opinion against the lady to whom he had unfortunately offered -his hand. Then there came to him a letter from Mr. Greystock, in which he -was asked for his "written explanation." If there be a proceeding which an -official man dislikes worse than another, it is a demand for a written -explanation. "It is impossible," Frank had said, "that your conduct to my -cousin should be allowed to drop without further notice. Hers has been -without reproach. Your engagement with her has been made public, chiefly -by you, and it is out of the question that she should be treated as you -are treating her, and that your lordship should escape without -punishment." What the punishment was to be he did not say; but there did -come a punishment on Lord Fawn from the eyes of every man whose eyes met -his own, and in the tones of every voice that addressed him. The looks of -the very clerks in the India Office accused him of behaving badly to a -young woman, and the doorkeeper at the House of Lords seemed to glance -askance at him. And now Lady Glencora, who was the social leader of his -own party, the feminine pole-star of the Liberal heavens, the most popular -and the most daring woman in London, had attacked him personally, and told -him that he ought to call on Lady Eustace! - -Let it not for a moment be supposed that Lord Fawn was without conscience -in the matter or indifferent to moral obligations. There was not a man in -London less willing to behave badly to a young woman than Lord Fawn; or -one who would more diligently struggle to get back to the right path, if -convinced that he was astray. But he was one who detested interference in -his private matters, and who was nearly driven mad between his sister and -Frank Greystock. When he left Lady Glencora's house he walked toward his -own abode with a dark cloud upon his brow. He was at first very angry with -Lady Glencora. Even her position gave her no right to meddle with his most -private affairs as she had done. He would resent it, and would quarrel -with Lady Glencora. What right could she have to advise him to call upon -any woman? But by degrees this wrath died away, and gave place to fears, -and qualms, and inward questions. He, too, had found a change in general -opinion about the diamonds. When he had taken upon himself with a high -hand to dissolve his own engagement, everybody had, as he thought, -acknowledged that Lizzie Eustace was keeping property which did not belong -to her. Now people talked of her losses as though the diamonds had been -undoubtedly her own. On the next morning Lord Fawn took an opportunity of -seeing Mr. Camperdown. - -"My dear lord," said Mr. Camperdown, "I shall wash my hands of the matter -altogether. The diamonds are gone, and the questions now are, who stole -them, and where are they? In our business we can't meddle with such -questions as those." - -"You will drop the bill in Chancery then?" - -"What good can the bill do us when the diamonds are gone? If Lady Eustace -had anything to do with the robbery----" - -"You suspect her, then?" - -"No, my lord; no. I cannot say that. I have no right to say that. Indeed -it is not Lady Eustace that I suspect. She has got into bad hands, -perhaps; but I do not think that she is a thief." - -"You were suggesting that, if she had anything to do with the robbery----" - -"Well; yes; if she had, it would not be for us to take steps against her -in the matter. In fact, the trustees have decided that they will do -nothing more, and my hands are tied. If the minor, when he comes of age, -claims the property from them, they will prefer to replace it. It isn't -very likely; but that's what they say." - -"But if it was an heirloom--," suggested Lord Fawn, going back to the old -claim. - -"That's exploded," said Mr. Camperdown. "Mr. Dove was quite clear about -that." - -This was the end of the filing of that bill in Chancery as to which Mr. -Camperdown had been so very enthusiastic! Now it certainly was the case -that poor Lord Fawn in his conduct toward Lizzie had trusted greatly to -the support of Mr. Camperdown's legal proceeding. The world could hardly -have expected him to marry a woman against whom a bill in Chancery was -being carried on for the recovery of diamonds which did not belong to her. -But that support was now altogether withdrawn from him. It was -acknowledged that the necklace was not an heirloom, clearly acknowledged -by Mr. Camperdown! And even Mr. Camperdown would not express an opinion -that the lady had stolen her own diamonds. - -How would it go with him, if, after all, he were to marry her? The bone of -contention between them had at any rate been made to vanish. The income -was still there, and Lady Glencora Palliser had all but promised her -friendship. As he entered the India Office on his return from Mr. -Camperdown's chambers, he almost thought that that would be the best way -out of his difficulty. In his room he found his brother-in-law, Mr. -Hittaway, waiting for him. It is almost necessary that a man should have -some friend whom he can trust in delicate affairs, and Mr. Hittaway was -selected as Lord Fawn's friend. He was not at all points the man whom Lord -Fawn would have chosen, but for their close connection. Mr. Hittaway was -talkative, perhaps a little loud, and too apt to make capital out of every -incident of his life. But confidential friends are not easily found, and -one does not wish to increase the circle to whom one's family secrets must -become known. Mr. Hittaway was at any rate zealous for the Fawn family, -and then his character as an official man stood high. He had been asked on -the previous evening to step across from the Civil Appeal Office to give -his opinion respecting that letter from Frank Greystock demanding a -written explanation. The letter had been sent to him; and Mr. Hittaway had -carried it home and shown it to his wife. "He's a cantankerous Tory, and -determined to make himself disagreeable," said Mr. Hittaway, taking the -letter from his pocket and beginning the conversation. Lord Fawn seated -himself in his great armchair, and buried his face in his hands. "I am -disposed, after much consideration, to advise you to take no notice of the -letter," said Mr. Hittaway, giving his counsel in accordance with -instructions received from his wife. Lord Fawn still buried his face. "Of -course the thing is painful, very painful. But out of two evils one should -choose the least. The writer of this letter is altogether unable to carry -out his threat." - -"What can the man do to him!" Mrs. Hittaway had asked, almost snapping at -her husband as she did so. - -"And then," continued Mr. Hittaway, "we all know that public opinion is -with you altogether. The conduct of Lady Eustace is notorious." - -"Everybody is taking her part," said Lord Fawn, almost crying. - -"Surely not." - -"Yes; they are. The bill in Chancery has been withdrawn, and it's my -belief that if the necklace were found to-morrow, there would be nothing -to prevent her keeping it, just as she did before." - -"But it was an heirloom?" - -"No, it wasn't. The lawyers were all wrong about it. As far as I can see, -lawyers always are wrong. About those nine lacs of rupees for the sawab, -Finlay was all wrong. Camperdown owns that he was wrong. If, after all, -the diamonds were hers, I'm sure I don't know what I am to do. Thank you, -Hittaway, for coming over. That'll do for the present. Just leave that -ruffian's letter, and I'll think about it." - -This was considered by Mrs. Hittaway to be a very bad state of things, and -there was great consternation in Warwick Square when Mr. Hittaway told his -wife this new story of her brother's weakness. She was not going to be -weak. She did not intend to withdraw her opposition to the marriage. She -was not going to be frightened by Lizzie Eustace and Frank Greystock, -knowing as she did that they were lovers, and very improper lovers, too. -"Of course she stole them herself," said Mrs. Hittaway; "and I don't doubt -but she stole her own money afterwards There's nothing she wouldn't do. -I'd sooner see Frederic in his grave than married to such a woman as that. -Men don't know how sly women can be; that's the truth. And Frederic has -been so spoilt among them down at Richmond, that he has no real judgment -left. I don't suppose he means to marry her." - -"Upon my word I don't know," said Mr. Hittaway. Then Mrs. Hittaway made up -her mind that she would at once write a letter to Scotland. - -There was an old lord about London in those days, or rather one who was an -old Liberal but a young lord, one Lord Mount Thistle, who had sat in the -Cabinet, and had lately been made a peer when his place in the Cabinet was -wanted. He was a pompous, would-be important, silly old man, well -acquainted with all the traditions of his party, and perhaps on that -account useful, but a bore, and very apt to meddle when he was not wanted. -Lady Glencora, on the day after her dinner-party, whispered into his ear -that Lord Fawn was getting himself into trouble, and that a few words of -caution, coming to him from one whom he respected so much as he did Lord -Mount Thistle, would be of service to him. Lord Mount Thistle had known -Lord Fawn's father, and declared himself at once to be quite entitled to -interfere. "He is really behaving badly to Lady Eustace," said Lady -Glencora, "and I don't think that he knows it." Lord Mount Thistle, proud -of a commission from the hands of Lady Glencora, went almost at once to -his old friend's son. He found him at the House that night, and whispered -his few words of caution in one of the lobbies. - -"I know you will excuse me, Fawn," Lord Mount Thistle said, "but people -seem to think that you are not behaving quite well to Lady Eustace." - -"What people?" demanded Lord Fawn. - -"My dear fellow, that is a question that cannot be answered. You know that -I am the last man to interfere if I didn't think it my duty as a friend. -You were engaged to her?"--Lord Fawn only frowned. "If so," continued the -late cabinet minister, "and if you have broken it off, you ought to give -your reasons. She has a right to demand as much as that." - -On the next morning, Friday, there came to him the note which Lady -Glencora had recommended Lizzie to write. It was very short. "Had you not -better come and see me? You can hardly think that things should be left as -they are now. L. E.--Hertford Street, Thursday." He had hoped--he had -ventured to hope--that things might be left, and that they would arrange -themselves; that he could throw aside his engagement without further -trouble, and that the subject would drop. But it was not so. His enemy, -Frank Greystock, had demanded from him a "written explanation" of his -conduct. Mr. Camperdown had deserted him. Lady Glencora Palliser, with -whom he had not the honour of any intimate acquaintance, had taken upon -herself to give him advice. Lord Mount Thistle had found fault with him. -And now there had come a note from Lizzie Eustace herself, which he could -hardly venture to leave altogether unnoticed. On that Friday he dined at -his club, and then went to his sister's house in Warwick Square. If -assistance might be had anywhere, it would be from his sister. She, at any -rate, would not want courage in carrying on the battle on his behalf. - -"Ill-used!" she said, as soon as they were closeted together. "Who dares -to say so?" - -"That old fool, Mount Thistle, has been with me." - -"I hope, Frederic, you don't mind what such a man as that says. He has -probably been prompted by some friend of hers. And who else?" - -"Camperdown turns round now and says that they don't mean to do anything -more about the necklace. Lady Glencora Palliser told me the other day that -all the world believes that the thing was her own." - -"What does Lady Glencora Palliser know about it? If Lady Glencora Palliser -would mind her own affairs it would be much better for her. I remember -when she had troubles enough of her own, without meddling with other -people's." - -"And now I've got this note." Lord Fawn had already shown Lizzie's few -scrawled words to his sister. "I think I must go and see her." - -"Do no such thing, Frederic." - -"Why not? I must answer it, and what can I say?" - -"If you go there, that woman will be your wife, you'll never have a happy -day again as long as you live. The match is broken off, and she knows it. -I shouldn't take the slightest notice of her, or of her cousin, or of any -of them. If she chooses to bring an action against you, that is another -thing." - -Lord Fawn paused for a few moments before he answered. "I think I ought to -go," he said. - -"And I am sure that you ought not. It is not only about the diamonds, -though that was quite enough to break off any engagement. Have you -forgotten what I told you that the man saw at Portray?" - -"I don't know that the man spoke the truth." - -"But he did." - -"And I hate that kind of espionage. It is so very likely that mistakes -should be made." - -"When she was sitting in his arms--and kissing him! If you choose to do -it, Frederic, of course you must. We can't prevent it. You are free to -marry any one you please." - -"I'm not talking of marrying her." - -"What do you suppose she wants you to go there for? As for political life, -I am quite sure it would be the death of you. If I were you I wouldn't go -near her. You have got out of the scrape, and I would remain out." - -"But I haven't got out," said Lord Fawn. - -On the next day, Saturday, he did nothing in the matter. He went down, as -was his custom, to Richmond, and did not once mention Lizzie's name. Lady -Fawn and her daughters never spoke of her now--neither of her, nor in his -presence, of poor Lucy Morris. But on his return to London on the Sunday -evening he found another note from Lizzie. "You will hardly have the -hardihood to leave my note unanswered. Pray let me know when you will come -to me." Some answer must, as he felt, be made to her. For a moment he -thought of asking his mother to call; but he at once saw that by doing so -he might lay himself open to terrible ridicule. Could he induce Lord Mount -Thistle to be his Mercury? It would, he felt, be quite impossible to make -Lord Mount Thistle understand all the facts of his position. His sister, -Mrs. Hittaway, might have gone, were it not that she herself was violently -opposed to any visit. The more he thought of it the more convinced he -became that, should it be known that he had received two such notes from a -lady and that he had not answered or noticed them, the world would judge -him to have behaved badly. So at last he wrote--on that Sunday evening-- -fixing a somewhat distant day for his visit to Hertford street. His note -was as follows: - -"Lord Fawn presents his compliments to Lady Eustace. In accordance with -the wish expressed in Lady Eustace's two notes of the 23d instant and this -date, Lord Fawn will do himself the honour of waiting upon Lady Eustace on -Saturday next, March 3d, at 12, noon. Lord Fawn had thought that under -circumstances as they now exist, no further personal interview could lead -to the happiness of either party; but as Lady Eustace thinks otherwise, he -feels himself constrained to comply with her desire. - -"SUNDAY EVENING, February 25, 18--." - -"I am going to see her in the course of this week," he said, in answer to -a further question from Lady Glencora, who, chancing to meet him in -society, had again addressed him on the subject. He lacked the courage to -tell Lady Glencora to mind her own business and to allow him to do the -same. Had she been a little less great than she was, either as regarded -herself or her husband, he would have done so. But Lady Glencora was the -social queen of the party to which he belonged, and Mr. Palliser was -Chancellor of the Exchequer, and would some day be Duke of Omnium. - -"As you are great, be merciful, Lord Fawn," said Lady Glencora. "You men, -I believe, never realise what it is that women feel when they love. It is -my belief that she will die unless you are reunited to her. And then she -is so beautiful." - -"It is a subject that I cannot discuss, Lady Glencora." - -"I dare say not. And I'm sure I am the last person to wish to give you -pain. But you see, if the poor lady has done nothing to merit your anger, -it does seem rather a strong measure to throw her off and give her no -reason whatever. How would you defend yourself, suppose she published it -all?" Lady Glencora's courage was very great, and perhaps we may say her -impudence also. This last question Lord Fawn left unanswered, walking away -in great dudgeon. - -In the course of the week he told his sister of the interview which he had -promised, and she endeavoured to induce him to postpone it till a certain -man should arrive from Scotland. She had written for Mr. Andrew Gowran-- -sending down funds for Mr. Gowran's journey--so that her brother might -hear Mr. Gowran's evidence out of Mr. Gowran's own mouth. Would not -Frederic postpone the interview till he should have seen Mr. Gowran? But -to this request Frederic declined to accede. He had fixed a day and an -hour. He had made an appointment. Of course he must keep it. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII - -HUMPTY DUMPTY - - -The robbery at the house in Hertford Street took place on the 30th of -January, and on the morning of the 28th of February Bunfit and Gager were -sitting together in a melancholy, dark little room in Scotland Yard, -discussing the circumstances of that nefarious act. A month had gone by -and nobody was yet in custody. A month had passed since that second -robbery; but nearly eight weeks had passed since the robbery at Carlisle, -and even that was still a mystery. The newspapers had been loud in their -condemnation of the police. It had been asserted over and over again that -in no other civilised country in the world could so great an amount of -property have passed through the hands of thieves without leaving some -clue by which the police would have made their way to the truth. Major -Mackintosh had been declared to be altogether incompetent, and all the -Bunfits and Gagers of the force had been spoken of as drones and moles and -ostriches. They were idle and blind, and so stupid as to think that when -they saw nothing others saw less. The Major, who was a broad-shouldered, -philosophical man, bore all this as though it were, of necessity, a part -of the burthen of his profession: but the Bunfits and Gagers were very -angry, and at their wits' ends. It did not. occur to them to feel -animosity against the newspapers which abused them. The thieves who would -not be caught were their great enemies; and there was common to them a -conviction that men so obstinate as these thieves--men to whom a large -amount of grace and liberty for indulgence had accrued--should be treated -with uncommon severity when they were caught. There was this excuse always -on their lips, that had it been an affair simply of thieves, such as -thieves ordinarily are, everything would have been discovered long since. -But when lords and ladies with titles come to be mixed up with such an -affair--folk in whose house a policeman can't have his will at searching -and browbeating--how is a detective to detect anything? Bunfit and Gager -had both been driven to recast their theories as to the great Carlisle -affair by the circumstances of the later affair in Hertford Street. They -both thought that Lord George had been concerned in the robbery. That, -indeed, had now become the general opinion of the world at large. He was a -man of doubtful character, with large expenses, and with no recognised -means of living. He had formed a great intimacy with Lady Eustace at a -period in which she was known to be carrying these diamonds about with -her, had been staying with her at Portray Castle when the diamonds were -there, and had been her companion on the journey during which the diamonds -were stolen. The only men in London supposed to be capable of dealing -advantageously with such a property were Harter & Benjamin, as to whom it -was known that they were conversant with the existence of the diamonds, -and known also that they were in the habit of having dealings with Lord -George. It was, moreover, known that Lord George had been closeted with -Mr. Benjamin on the morning after his arrival in London. These things put -together made it almost a certainty that Lord George had been concerned in -the matter. Bunfit had always been sure of it. Gager, though differing -much from Bunfit as to details, had never been unwilling to suspect Lord -George. But the facts known could not be got to dovetail themselves -pleasantly. If Lord George had possessed himself of the diamonds at -Carlisle, or with Lizzie's connivance before they reached Carlisle, then, -why had there been a second robbery? Bunfit, who was very profound in his -theory, suggested that the second robbery was an additional plant, got up -with the view of throwing more dust into the eyes of the police. Patience -Crabstick had, of course, been one of the gang throughout, and she had now -been allowed to go off with her mistress's money and lesser trinkets, so -that the world of Scotland Yard might be thrown more and more into the -mire of ignorance and darkness of doubt. To this view Gager was altogether -opposed. He was inclined to think that Lord George had taken the diamonds -at Carlisle with Lizzie's connivance; that he had restored them in London -to her keeping, finding the suspicion against him too heavy to admit of -his dealing with them, and that now he had stolen them a second time, -again with Lizzie's connivance; but in this latter point Gager did not -pretend to the assurance of any conviction. - -But Gager at the present moment had achieved a triumph in the matter which -he was not at all disposed to share with his elder officer. Perhaps, on -the whole, more power is lost than gained by habits of secrecy. To be -discreet is a fine thing, especially for a policeman; but when discretion -is carried to such a length in the direction of self-confidence as to -produce a belief that no aid is wanted for the achievement of great -results, it will often militate against all achievement. Had Scotland Yard -been less discreet and more confidential, the mystery might perhaps have -been sooner unravelled. Gager at this very moment had reason to believe -that a man whom he knew could--and would, if operated upon duly-- -communicate to him, Gager, the secret of the present whereabouts of -Patience Crabstick! That belief was a great possession, and much too -important, as Gager thought, to be shared lightly with such a one as Mr. -Bunfit--a thick-headed sort of man, in Gager's opinion, although no doubt -he had by means of industry been successful in some difficult cases. - -"'Is lordship ain't stirred," said Bunfit. - -"How do you mean--stirred, Mr. Bunfit?" - -"Ain't moved nowheres out of London." - -"What should he move out of London for? What could he get by cutting? -There ain't nothing so bad when anything's up against one as letting on -that one wants to bolt. He knows all that. He'll stand his ground. He -won't bolt." - -"I don't suppose as he will, Gager. It's a rum go, ain't it? the rummiest -as I ever see." This remark had been made so often by Mr. Bunfit, that -Gager had become almost weary of hearing it. - -"Oh--rum; rum be b----. What's the use of all that? From what the governor -told me this morning, there isn't a shadow of doubt where the diamonds -are." - -"In Paris, of course," said Bunfit. - -"They never went to Paris. They were taken from here to Hamburg in a -commercial man's kit--a fellow as travels in knives and scissors. Then -they was recut. They say the cutting was the quickest bit of work ever -done by one man in Hamburg. And now they're in New York. That's what has -come of the diamonds." - -"Benjamin, in course," said Bunfit, in a low whisper, just taking the pipe -from between his lips. - -"Well--yes. No doubt it was Benjamin. But how did Benjamin get 'em?" - -"Lord George--in course," said Bunfit. - -"And how did he get 'em?" - -"Well--that's where it is; isn't it?" Then there was a pause, during which -Bunfit continued to smoke. "As sure as your name's Gager, he got 'em at -Carlisle." - -"And what took Smiler down to Carlisle?" - -"Just to put a face on it," said Bunfit. - -"And who cut the door?" - -"Billy Cann did," said Bunfit. - -"And who forced the box?" - -"Them two did," said Bunfit. - -"And all to put a face on it?" - -"Yes--just that. And an uncommon good face they did put on it between 'em ---the best as I ever see." - -"All right," said Gager. "So far, so good. I don't agree with you, Mr. -Bunfit; because the thing, when it was done, wouldn't be worth the money. -Lord love you, what would all that have cost? And what was to prevent the -lady and Lord George together taking the diamonds to Benjamin and getting -their price? It never does to be too clever, Mr. Bunfit. And when that was -all done, why did the lady go and get herself robbed again? No--I don't -say but what you're a clever man, in your way, Mr. Bunfit; but you've not -got a hold of the thing here. Why was Smiler going about like a mad dog-- -only that he found himself took in?" - -"Maybe he expected something else in the box--more than the necklace--as -was to come to him," suggested Bunfit. - -"Gammon." - -"I don't see why you say gammon, Gager. It ain't polite." - -"It is gammon--running away with ideas like them, just as if you was one -of the public. When they two opened that box at Carlisle, which they did -as certain as you sit there, they believed as the diamonds were there. -They were not there." - -"I don't think as they was," said Bunfit. - -"Very well; where were they! Just walk up to it, Mr. Bunfit, making your -ground good as you go. They two men cut the door, and took the box and -opened it, and when they'd opened it, they didn't get the swag. Where was -the swag?" - -"Lord George," said Bunfit again. - -"Very well, Lord George. Like enough. But it comes to this. Benjamin, and -they two men of his, had laid themselves out for the robbery. Now, Mr. -Bunfit, whether Lord George and Benjamin were together in that first -affair, or whether they weren't, I can't see my way just at present, and I -don't know as you can see yours--not saying but what you're as quick as -most men, Mr. Bunfit. If he was--and I rayther think that's about it--then -he and Benjamin must have had a few words, and he must have got the jewels -from the lady over night." - -"Of course he did; and Smiler and Billy Cann knew as they weren't there." - -"There you are, all back again, Mr. Bunfit, not making your ground good as -you go. Smiler and Cann did their job according to order--and precious -sore hearts they had when they'd got the box open. Those fellows at -Carlisle--just like all the provincials--went to work open mouthed, and -before the party left Carlisle it was known that Lord George was -suspected." - -"You can't trust those fellows any way," said Mr. Bunfit. - -"Well--what happens next? Lord George, he goes to Benjamin, but he isn't -goin' to take the diamonds with him. He has had words with Benjamin or he -has not. Any ways he isn't goin' to take the necklace with him on that -morning. He hasn't been goin' to keep the diamonds about him, not since -what was up at Carlisle. So he gives the diamonds back to the lady." - -"And she had 'em all along?" - -"I don't say it was so, but I can see my way upon that hypothesis." - -"There was something as she had to conceal, Gager. I've said that all -through. I knew it in a moment when I seed her 'aint." - -"She's had a deal to conceal, I don't doubt. Well, there they are--with -her still--and the box is gone, and the people as is bringing the lawsuit, -Mr. Camperdown and the rest of 'em, is off their tack. What's she to do -with 'em?" - -"Take 'em to Benjamin," said Bunfit with confidence. - -"That's all very well, Mr. Bunfit. But there's a quarrel up already with -Benjamin. Benjamin was to have had 'em before. Benjamin has spent a -goodish bit of money, and has been thrown over rather. I dare say Benjamin -was as bad as Smiler, or worse. No doubt Benjamin let on to Smiler, and -thought as Smiler was too many for him. I dare say there was a few words -between him and Smiler. I wouldn't wonder if Smiler didn't threaten to -punch Benjamin's head--which well he could do it--and if there wasn't a -few playful remarks between 'em about penal servitude for life. You see, -Mr. Bunfit, it couldn't have been pleasant for any of 'em." - -"They'd've split," said Bunfit. - -"But they didn't, not downright. Well, there we are. The diamonds is with -the lady. Lord George has done it all. Lord George and Lady Eustace-- -they're keeping company, no doubt, after their own fashion. He's a-robbing -of her, and she has to do pretty much as she's bid. The diamonds is with -the lady, and Lord George is pretty well afraid to look at 'em. After all -that's being done there isn't much to wonder at in that. Then comes the -second robbery." - -"And Lord George planned that too?" asked Bunfit. - -"I don't pretend to say I know, but just put it this way, Mr. Bunfit. Of -course the thieves were let in by the woman Crabstick?" - -"Not a doubt." - -"Of course they was Smiler and Billy Cann?" - -"I suppose they was." - -"She was always about the lady, a-doing for her in everything. Say she -goes to Benjamin and tells him as how her lady still has the necklace, and -then he puts up the second robbery. Then you'd have it all round." - -"And Lord George would have lost 'em? It can't be. Lord George and he are -thick as thieves up to this day." - -"Very well. I don't say anything against that. Lord George knows as she -has 'em; indeed he'd given 'em back to her to keep. We've got as far as -that, Mr. Bunfit." - -"I think she did 'ave 'em." - -"Very well. What does Lord George do then? He can't make money of 'em. -They're too hot for his fingers, and so he finds when he thinks of taking -'em into the market. So he puts Benjamin up to the second robbery." - -"Who's drawing it fine, now, Gager; eh?" - -"Mr. Bunfit, I'm not saying as I've got the truth beyond this, that -Benjamin and his two men were clean done at Carlisle, that Lord George and -his lady brought the jewels up to town between 'em, and that the party who -didn't get 'em at Carlisle tried their hand again, and did get 'em in -Hertford Street." In all of which the ingenious Gager would have been -right if he could have kept his mind clear from the alluring conviction -that a lord had been the chief of the thieves. - -"We shall never make a case of it now," said Bunfit despondently. - -"I mean to try it on all the same. There's Smiler about town as bold as -brass, and dressed to the nines. He had the cheek to tell me as he was -going down to the Newmarket Spring to look after a horse he's got a share -in." - -"I was talking to Billy only yesterday," added Bunfit. "I've got it on my -mind that they didn't treat Billy quite on the square. He didn't let on -anything about Benjamin; but he told me out plain, as how he was very much -disgusted. 'Mr. Bunfit,' said he, 'there's that roguery about, that a -plain man like me can't touch it. There's them as'd pick my eyes out while -I was sleeping, and then swear it against my very self,' Them were his -words, and I knew as how Benjamin hadn't been on the square with him." - -"You didn't let on anything, Mr. Bunfit?" - -"Well, I just reminded him as how there was five hundred pounds going a- -begging from Mr. Camperdown." - -"And what did he say to that, Mr. Bunfit?" - -"Well, he said a good deal. He's a sharp little fellow, is Billy, as has -read a deal. You've heard of 'Umpty Dumpty, Gager? 'Umpty Dumpty was a -hegg." - -"All right." - -"As had a fall, and was smashed, and there's a little poem about him." - -"I know." - -"Well; Billy says to me: 'Mr. Camperdown don't want no hinformation; he -wants the diamonds.' Them diamonds is like 'Umpty Dumpty, Mr. Bunfit. All -the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put 'Umpty Dumpty up -again." - -"Billy was about right there," said the younger officer, rising from his -seat. - -Late on the afternoon of the same day, when London had already been given -over to the gaslights, Mr. Gager, having dressed himself especially for -the occasion of the friendly visit which he intended to make, sauntered -into a small public-house at the corner of Meek Street and Pineapple -Court, which locality, as all men well versed with London are aware, lies -within one minute's walk of the top of Gray's Inn Lane. Gager, during his -conference with his colleague Bunfit, had been dressed in plain black -clothes; but in spite of his plain clothes he looked every inch a -policeman. There was a stiffness about his limbs, and, at the same time, a -sharpness in his eyes, which, in the conjunction with the locality in -which he was placed, declared his profession beyond the possibility of -mistake. Nor, in that locality, would he have desired to be taken for -anything else. But as he entered the "Rising Sun" in Meek Street, there -was nothing of the policeman about him. He might probably have been taken -for a betting man, with whom the world had latterly gone well enough to -enable him to maintain that sleek, easy, greasy appearance which seems to -be the beau ideal of a betting man's personal ambition. "Well, Mr. -Howard," said the lady at the bar, "a sight of you is good for sore eyes." - -"Six penn'orth of brandy--warm, if you please, my dear," said the pseudo- -Howard, as he strolled easily into an inner room, with which he seemed to -be quite familiar. He seated himself in an old-fashioned wooden arm-chair, -gazed up at the gas lamp, and stirred his liquor slowly. Occasionally he -raised the glass to his lips, but he did not seem to be at all intent upon -his drinking. When he entered the room, there had been a gentleman and a -lady there, whose festive moments seemed to be disturbed by some slight -disagreement; but Howard, as he gazed at the lamp, paid no attention to -them whatever. They soon left the room, their quarrel and their drink -finished together, and others dropped in and out. Mr. Howard's "warm" must -almost have become cold, so long did he sit there, gazing at the gas lamps -rather than attending to his brandy and water. Not a word did he speak to -any one for more than an hour, and not a sign did he show of impatience. -At last he was alone; but had not been so for above a minute when in -stepped a jaunty little man, certainly not more than five feet high, about -three or four and twenty years of age, dressed with great care, with his -trousers sticking to his legs, with a French chimneypot hat on his head, -very much peaked fore and aft and closely turned up at the sides. He had a -bright-coloured silk-handkerchief round his neck, and a white shirt, of -which the collar and wristbands were rather larger and longer than suited -the small dimensions of the man. He wore a white greatcoat tight buttoned -round his waist, but so arranged as to show the glories of the coloured -handkerchief; and in his hand he carried a diminutive cane with a little -silver knob. He stepped airily into the room, and as he did so he -addressed our friend the policeman with much cordiality. - -"My dear Mr. 'Oward," he said, "this is a pleasure. This is a pleasure. -This is a pleasure." - -"What is it to be?" asked Gager. - -"Well; ay, what? Shall I say a little port wine negus, with the nutmeg in -it rayther strong?" This suggestion he made to a young lady from the bar, -who had followed him into the room. The negus was brought and paid for by -Gager, who then requested that they might be left there undisturbed for -five minutes. The young lady promised to do her best, and then closed the -door. "And now, Mr. 'Oward, what can I do for you?" said Mr. Cann, the -burglar. - -Gager, before he answered, took a pipe-case out of his pocket, and lit the -pipe. "Will you smoke, Billy?" said he. - -"Well--no, I don't know that I will smoke. A very little tobacco goes a -long way with me, Mr. 'Oward. One cigar before I turn in; that's about the -outside of it. You see, Mr. 'Oward, pleasures should never be made -necessities, when the circumstances of a gentleman's life may perhaps -require that they shall be abandoned for prolonged periods. In your line -of life, Mr. 'Oward, which has its objections, smoking may be pretty well -a certainty." Mr. Cann, as he made these remarks, skipped about the room, -and gave point to his argument by touching Mr. Howard's waistcoat with the -end of his cane. - -"And now, Billy, how about the young woman?" - -"I haven't set eyes on her these six weeks, Mr. 'Oward. I never see her -but once in my life, Mr. 'Oward; or, maybe, twice, for one's memory is -deceitful; and I don't know that I ever wish to see her again. She ain't -one of my sort, Mr. 'Oward. I likes 'em soft, and sweet, and coming. This -one, she has her good p'ints about her, as clean a foot and ankle as I'd -wish to see; but, laws, what a nose, Mr. 'Oward. And then for manner; -she's no more manner than a stable dog." - -"She's in London, Billy?" - -"How am I to know, Mr. 'Oward?" - -"What's the good, then, of your coming here?" asked Gager, with no little -severity in his voice. - -"I don't know as it is good. I 'aven't said nothing about any good, Mr. -'Oward. What you wants to find is them diamonds?" - -"Of course I do." - -"Well; you won't find 'em. I knows nothing about 'em, in course, except -just what I'm told. You know my line of life, Mr. 'Oward?" - -"Not a doubt about it." - -"And I know yours. I'm in the way of hearing about these things, and for -the matter of that, so are you too. It may be, my ears are the longer. I -'ave 'eard. You don't expect me to tell you more than just that. I 'ave -'eard. It was a pretty thing, wasn't it? But I wasn't in it myself, more's -the pity. You can't expect fairer than that, Mr. 'Oward?" - -"And what have you heard?" - -"Them diamonds is gone where none of you can get at 'em. That five hundred -pounds as the lawyers 'ave offered is just nowhere. If you want -information, Mr. 'Oward, you should say information." - -"And you could give it; eh, Billy?" - -"No--no--" He uttered these two negatives in a low voice, and with much -deliberation. "I couldn't give it. A man can't give what he hasn't got; -but perhaps I could get it." - -"What an ass you are, Billy. Don't you know that I know all about it?" - -"What an ass you are, Mr. 'Oward. Don't I know that you don't know; or you -wouldn't come to me. You guess. You're always a-guessing. But guessing -ain't knowing. You don't know; nor yet don't I. What is it to be, if I -find out where that young woman is?" - -"A tenner, Billy." - -"Five quid now, and five when you've seen her?" - -"All right, Billy." - -"She's a-going to be married to Smiler next Sunday as ever is down at -Ramsgate; and at Ramsgate she is now. You'll find her, Mr. 'Oward, if -you'll keep your eyes open, somewhere about the 'Fiddle with One String.' -" - -This information was so far recognised by Mr. Howard as correct, that he -paid Mr. Cann five sovereigns down for it at once. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII - -THE "FIDDLE WITH ONE STRING" - - -Mr. Gager reached Ramsgate by the earliest train on the following morning, -and was not long in finding out the "Fiddle with One String." The "Fiddle -with One String" was a public-house, very humble in appearance, in the -outskirts of the town, on the road leading to Pegwell Bay. On this -occasion Mr. Gager was dressed in his ordinary plain clothes, and though -the policeman's calling might not be so manifestly declared by his -appearance at Ramsgate as it was in Scotland Yard, still, let a hint in -that direction have ever been given, and the ordinary citizens of Ramsgate -would at once be convinced that the man was what he was. Gager had -doubtless considered all the circumstances of his day's work carefully, -and had determined that success would more probably attend him with this -than with any other line of action. He walked at once into the house, and -asked whether a young woman was not lodging there. The man of the house -was behind the bar, with his wife, and to him Gager whispered a few words. -The man stood dumb for a moment, and then his wife spoke. "What's up now?" -said she, "There's no young women here. We don't have no young women." -Then the man whispered a word to his wife, during which Gager stood among -the customers before the bar with an easy, unembarrassed air. - -"Well, what's the odds?" said the wife. "There ain't anything wrong with -us." - -"Never thought there was, ma'am," said Gager. "And there's nothing wrong -as I know of with the young woman." Then the husband and wife consulted -together, and Mr. Gager was asked to take a seat in a little parlour, -while the woman ran upstairs for half an instant. Gager looked about him -quickly, and took in at a glance the system of the construction of the -"Fiddle with One String." He did sit down in the little parlour, with the -door open, and remained there for perhaps a couple of minutes. Then he -went to the front door, and glanced up at the roof. - -"It's all right," said the keeper of the house, following him. "She ain't -a-going to get away. She ain't just very well, and she's a-lying down." - -"You tell her, with my regards," said Gager, "that she needn't be a bit -the worse because of me." The man looked at him suspiciously. "You tell -her what I say. And tell her, too, the quicker the better. She has a -gentleman a-looking after her, I daresay. Perhaps I'd better be off before -he comes." The message was taken up to the lady, and Gager again seated -himself in the little parlour. - -We are often told that all is fair in love and war, and perhaps the -operation on which Mr. Gager was now intent may be regarded as warlike. -But he now took advantage of a certain softness in the character of the -lady whom he wished to meet, which hardly seems to be justifiable even in -a policeman. When Lizzie's tall footman had been in trouble about the -necklace, a photograph had been taken from him which had not been restored -to him. This was a portrait of Patience Crabstick, which she, poor girl, -in a tender moment, had given to him who, had not things gone roughly with -them, was to have been her lover. The little picture had fallen into -Gager's hands, and he now pulled it from his pocket. He himself had never -visited the house in Hertford Street till after the second robbery, and, -in the flesh, had not as yet seen Miss Crabstick; but he had studied her -face carefully, expecting, or at any rate hoping, that he might some day -enjoy the pleasure of personal acquaintance. That pleasure was now about -to come to him, and he prepared himself for it by making himself intimate -with the lines of the lady's face as the sun had portrayed them. There was -even yet some delay, and Mr. Gager more than once testified uneasiness. - -"She ain't a-going to get away," said the mistress of the house, "but a -lady as is going to see a gentleman can't jump into her things as a man -does." Gager intimated his acquiescence in all this, and again waited. - -"The sooner she comes, the less trouble for her," said Gager to the woman. -"If you'll only make her believe that." At last, when he had been somewhat -over an hour in the house, he was asked to walk upstairs, and then, in a -little sitting-room over the bar, he had the opportunity, so much desired, -of making personal acquaintance with Patience Crabstick. - -It may be imagined that the poor waiting-woman had not been in a happy -state of mind since she had been told that a gentleman was waiting to see -her down-stairs, who had declared himself to be a policeman immediately on -entering the shop. To escape was of course her first idea, but she was -soon made to understand that this was impracticable. In the first place -there was but one staircase, at the bottom of which was the open door of -the room in which the policeman was sitting; and then, the woman of the -house was very firm in declaring that she would connive at nothing which -might cost her and her husband their license. "You got to face it," said -the woman. - -"I suppose they can't make me get out of bed unless I pleases," said -Patience firmly. But she knew that even that resource would fail her, and -that a policeman, when aggravated, can take upon him all the duties of a -lady's maid. She had to face it, and she did face it. - -"I've just got to have a few words with you, my dear," said Gager. - -"I suppose, then, we'd better be alone," said Patience; whereupon the -woman of the house discreetly left the room. - -The interview was so long that the reader would be fatigued were he asked -to study a record of all that was said on the occasion. The gentleman and -lady were closeted together for more than an hour, and so amicably was the -conversation carried on that when the time was half over Gager stepped -down-stairs and interested himself in procuring Miss Crabstick's -breakfast. He even condescended himself to pick a few shrimps and drink a -glass of beer in her company. A great deal was said and something was even -settled, as may be learned from a few concluding words of that very -memorable conversation. "Just don't you say anything about it, my dear, -but leave word for him that you've gone up to town on business." - -"Lord love you, Mr. Gager, he'll know all about it." - -"Let him know. Of course he'll know if he comes down. It's my belief he'll -never show himself at Ramsgate again." - -"But, Mr. Gager----" - -"Well, my dear." - -"You aren't a perjuring of yourself?" - -"What; about making you my wife? That I ain't. I'm upright and always was. -There's no mistake about me when you've got my word. As soon as this work -is off my mind you shall be Mrs. Gager, my dear. And you'll be all right. -You've been took in, that's what you have." - -"That I have, Mr. Gager," said Patience, wiping her eyes. - -"You've been took in and you must be forgiven." - -"I didn't get--not nothing out of the necklace; and as fot the other -things, they've frightened me so that I let 'em all go for just what I -tell you. And as for Mr. Smiler, I never didn't care for him; that I -didn't. He ain't the man to touch my heart; not at all; and it was not -likely either. A plain fellow, very, Mr. Gager." - -"He'll be plainer before long, my dear." - -"But I've been that worrited among 'em, Mr. Gager, since first they made -their wicked prepositions, that I've been jest--I don't know how I've -been. And though my lady was not a lady as any girl could like, and did -deserve to have her things took if anybody's things ever should be took, -still, Mr. Gager, I knows I did wrong. I do know it and I'm a-repenting of -it in sackcloth and ashes; so I am. But you'll be as good as your word, -Mr. Gager?" - -It must be acknowledged that Mr. Gager had bidden high for success, and -had allowed himself to be carried away by his zeal almost to the verge of -imprudence. It was essential to him that he should take Patience Crabstick -back with him to London, and that he should take her as witness and not as -a criminal. Mr. Benjamin was the game at which he was flying--Mr. -Benjamin, and if possible, Lord George--and he conceived that his net -might be big enough to hold Smiler as well as the other two greater -fishes, if he could induce Patience Crabstick and Billy Cann to co-operate -with him cordially in his fishing. - -But his mind was still disturbed on one point. Let him press his beloved -Patience as closely as he might with questions, there was one point on -which he could not get from her what he believed to be the truth. She -persisted that Lord George de Bruce Carruthers had had no hand in either -robbery, and Gager had so firmly committed himself to a belief on this -matter, that he could not throw the idea away from him, even on the -testimony of Patience Crabstick. - -On that evening he returned triumphant to Scotland Yard with Patience -Crabstick under his wing; and that lady was housed there with every -comfort she could desire, except that of personal liberty. - - - - -CHAPTER LIX - -MR. GOWRAN UP IN LONDON - - -In the mean time Mrs. Hittaway was diligently spreading a report that -Lizzie Eustace either was engaged to marry her cousin Frank, or ought to -be so engaged. This she did, no doubt, with the sole object of saving her -brother; but she did it with a zeal that dealt as freely with Frank's name -as with Lizzie's. They, with all their friends, were her enemies, and she -was quite sure that they were, altogether, a wicked degraded set of -people. Of Lord George and Mrs. Carbuncle, of Miss Roanoke and Sir Griffin -Tewett she believed all manner of evil. She had theories of her own about -the jewels, stories--probably of her own manufacture in part, although no -doubt she believed them to be true--as to the manner of living at Portray, -little histories of Lizzie's debts, and the great fact of the scene which -Mr. Gowran had seen with his own eyes. Lizzie Eustace was an abomination -to her, and this abominable woman her brother was again in danger of -marrying! She was very loud in her denunciations, and took care that they -should reach even Lady Linlithgow, so that poor Lucy Morris might know of -what sort was the lover in whom she trusted. Andy Gowran had been sent for -to town, and was on his journey while Mr. Gager was engaged at Ramsgate. -It was at present the great object of Mrs. Hittaway's life to induce her -brother to see Mr. Gowran before he kept his appointment with Lady -Eustace. - -Poor Lucy received the wound which was intended for her. The enemy's -weapons had repeatedly struck her, but hitherto they had alighted on the -strong shield of her faith. But let a shield be never so strong, it may at -last be battered out of all form and service. On Lucy's shield there had -been much of such batterings, and the blows which had come from him in -whom she most trusted had not been the lightest. She had not seen him for -months, and his letters were short, unsatisfactory, and rare. She had -declared to herself and to her friend Lady Fawn that no concurrence of -circumstances, no absence, however long, no rumours that might reach her -ears, would make her doubt the man she loved. She was still steadfast in -the same resolution; but in spite of her resolution her heart began to -fail her. She became weary, unhappy, and ill at ease, and though she would -never acknowledge to herself that she doubted, she did doubt. - -"So, after all, your Mr. Greystock is to marry my niece, Lizzie -Greystock." This good-natured speech was made one morning to poor Lucy by -her present patroness, Lady Linlithgow. - -"I rather think not," said Lucy, plucking up her spirits and smiling as -she spoke. - -"Everybody says so. As for Lizzie, she has become quite a heroine. What -with her necklace, and her two robberies, and her hunting, and her various -lovers--two lords and a member of Parliament, my dear--there is nothing to -equal her. Lady Glencora Palliser has been calling on her. She took care -to let me know that. And I'm told that she certainly is engaged to her -cousin." - -"According to your own showing, Lady Linlithgow, she has got two other -lovers. Couldn't you oblige me by letting her marry one of the lords?" - -"I'm afraid, my dear, that Mr. Greystock is to be the chosen one." Then -after a pause the old woman became serious. "What is the use, Miss Morris, -of not looking the truth in the face? Mr. Greystock is neglecting you." - -"He is not neglecting me. You won't let him come to see me." - -"Certainly not; but if he were not neglecting you, you would not be here. -And there he is with Lizzie Eustace every day of his life. He can't afford -to marry you, and he can afford to marry her. It's a deal better that you -should look it all in the face and know what it must all come to." - -"I shall just wait, and never believe a word till he speaks it." - -"You hardly know what men are, my dear." - -"Very likely not, Lady Linlithgow. It may be that I shall have to pay dear -for learning. Of course I may be mistaken as well as another, only I don't -believe I am mistaken." - -When this little scene took place, only a month remained of the time for -which Lucy's services were engaged to Lady Linlithgow, and no definite -arrangement had been made as to her future residence. Lady Fawn was -prepared to give her a home, and to Lady Fawn, as it seemed, she must go. -Lady Linlithgow had declared herself unwilling to continue the existing -arrangement because, as she said, it did not suit her that her companion -should be engaged to marry her late sister's nephew. Not a word had been -said about the deanery for the last month or two, and Lucy, though her -hopes in that direction had once been good, was far too high spirited to -make any suggestion herself as to her reception by her lover's family. In -the ordinary course of things she would have to look out for another -situation, like any other governess in want of a place; but she could do -this only by consulting Lady Fawn; and Lady Fawn when consulted would -always settle the whole matter by simply bidding her young friend to come -to Fawn Court. - -There must be some end of her living at Fawn Court. So much Lucy told -herself over and over again. It could be but a temporary measure. If--if -it was to be her fate to be taken away from Fawn Court a happy, glorious, -triumphant bride, then the additional obligation put upon her by her dear -friends would not be more than she could bear. But to go to Fawn Court, -and, by degrees, to have it acknowledged that another place must be found -for her, would be very bad. She would infinitely prefer any intermediate -hardship. How, then, should she know? As soon as she was able to escape -from the countess, she went up to her own room, and wrote the following -letter. She studied the words with great care as she wrote them--sitting -and thinking before she allowed her pen to run on the paper. - -"MY DEAR FRANK: It is a long time since we met--is it not? I do not write -this as a reproach, but because my friends tell me that I should not -continue to think myself engaged to you. They say that, situated as you -are, you cannot afford to marry a penniless girl, and that I ought not to -wish you to sacrifice yourself. I do understand enough of your affairs to -know that an imprudent marriage may ruin you, and I certainly do not wish -to be the cause of injury to you. All I ask is that you should tell me the -truth. It is not that I am impatient; but that I must decide what to do -with myself when I leave Lady Linlithgow. Your most affectionate friend, - -"LUCY MORRIS. - -"March 2, 18--." - -She read this letter over and over again, thinking of all that it said and -of all that it omitted to say. She was at first half disposed to make -protestations of forgiveness, to assure him that not even within her own -heart would she reproach him, should he feel himself bound to retract the -promise he had made her. She longed to break out into love, but so to -express her love that her lover should know that it was strong enough even -to sacrifice itself for his sake. But though her heart longed to speak -freely, her judgment told her that it would be better that she should be -reticent and tranquil in her language. Any warmth on her part would be in -itself a reproach to him. If she really wished to assist him in -extricating himself from a difficulty into which he had fallen in her -behalf, she would best do so by offering him his freedom in the fewest and -plainest words which she could select. - -But even when the letter was written she doubted as to the wisdom of -sending it. She kept it that she might sleep upon it. She did sleep upon -it, and when the morning came she would not send it. Had not absolute -faith in her lover been the rock on which she had declared to herself that -she would build the house of her future hopes? Had not she protested again -and again that no caution from others should induce her to waver in her -belief? Was it not her great doctrine to trust, to trust implicitly, even -though all should be lost if her trust should be misplaced? And was it -well that she should depart from all this, merely because it might be -convenient for her to make arrangements as to the coming months? If it -were to be her fate to be rejected, thrown over, and deceived, of what use -to her could be any future arrangements? All to her would be ruin, and it -would matter to her nothing whither she should be taken. And then, why -should she lie to him as she would lie in sending such a letter? If he did -throw her over he would be a traitor, and her heart would be full of -reproaches. Whatever might be his future lot in life, he owed it to her to -share it with her, and if he evaded his debt he would be a traitor and a -miscreant. She would never tell him so. She would be far too proud to -condescend to spoken or written reproaches. But she would know that it -would be so, and why should she lie to him by saying that it would not be -so? Thinking of all this, when the morning came, she left the letter lying -within her desk. - -Lord Fawn was to call upon Lady Eustace on the Saturday, and on Friday -afternoon Mr. Andrew Gowran was in Mrs. Hittaway's back parlour in Warwick -Square. After many efforts, and with much persuasion, the brother had -agreed to see his sister's great witness. Lord Fawn had felt that he would -lower himself by any intercourse with such a one as Andy Gowran in regard -to the conduct of the woman whom he had proposed to make his wife, and had -endeavoured to avoid the meeting. He had been angry, piteous, haughty, and -sullen by turns; but Mrs. Hittaway had overcome him by dogged -perseverance; and poor Lord Fawn had at last consented. He was to come to -Warwick Square as soon as the House was up on Friday evening, and dine -there. Before dinner he was to be introduced to Mr. Gowran. Andy arrived -at the house at half-past five, and after some conversation with Mrs. -Hittaway, was left there all alone to await the coming of Lord Fawn. He -was in appearance and manners very different from the Andy Gowran -familiarly known among the braes and crofts of Portray. He had a heavy -stiff hat, which he carried in his hand. He wore a black swallow-tail coat -and black trousers, and a heavy red waistcoat buttoned up nearly to his -throat, round which was lightly tied a dingy black silk handkerchief. At -Portray no man was more voluble, no man more self-confident, no man more -equal to his daily occupations than Andy Gowran; but the unaccustomed -clothes, and the journey to London, and the town houses overcame him, and -for a while almost silenced him. Mrs. Hittaway found him silent, cautious, -and timid. Not knowing what to do with him, fearing to ask him to go and -eat in the kitchen, and not liking to have meat and unlimited drink -brought for him into the parlour, she directed the servant to supply him -with a glass of sherry and a couple of biscuits. He had come an hour -before the time named, and there, with nothing to cheer him beyond these -slight creature comforts, he was left to wait all alone till Lord Fawn -should be ready to see him. - -Andy had seen lords before. Lords are not rarer in Ayrshire than in other -Scotch counties; and then, had not Lord George de Bruce Carruthers been -staying at Portray half the winter? But Lord George was not to Andy a real -lord, and then a lord down in his own county was so much less to him than -a lord up in London. And this lord was a lord of Parliament, and a -government lord, and might probably have the power of hanging such a one -as Andy Gowran were he to commit perjury, or say anything which the lord -might choose to call perjury. What it was that Lord Fawn wished him to -say, he could not make himself sure. That the lord's sister wished him to -prove Lady Eustace to be all that was bad, he knew very well. But he -thought that he was able to perceive that the brother and sister were not -at one, and more than once during his journey up to London he had almost -made up his mind that he would turn tail and go back to Portray. No doubt -there was enmity between him and his mistress; but then his mistress did -not attempt to hurt him even though he had insulted her grossly; and were -she to tell him to leave her service, it would be from Mr. John Eustace, -and not from Mrs. Hittaway, that he must look for the continuation of his -employment. Nevertheless he had taken Mrs. Hittaway's money and there he -was. - -At half-past seven Lord Fawn was brought into the room by his sister, and -Andy Gowran, rising from his chair, three times ducked his head. "Mr. -Gowran," said Mrs. Hittaway, "my brother is desirous that you should tell -him exactly what you have seen of Lady Eustace's conduct down at Portray. -You may speak quite freely, and I know you will speak truly." Andy again -ducked his head. "Frederic," continued the lady, "I am sure that you may -implicitly believe all that Mr. Gowran will say to you." Then Mrs. -Hittaway left the room, as her brother had expressly stipulated that she -should do. - -Lord Fawn was quite at a loss how to begin, and Andy was by no means -prepared to help him. "If I am rightly informed," said the lord, "you have -been for many years employed on the Portray property?" - -"A' my life, so please your lairdship." - -"Just so; just so. And of course interested in the welfare of the Eustace -family?" - -"Nae doobt, my laird, nae doobt; vera interasted indeed." - -"And being an honest man, have felt sorrow that the Portray property -should--should--should--that anything bad should happen to it." Andy -nodded his head, and Lord Fawn perceived that he was nowhere near the -beginning of his matter. "Lady Eustace is at present your mistress?" - -"Just in a fawshion, my laird, as a mon may say. That is she is, and she -is nae. There's a mony things at Portray as ha' to be lookit after." - -"She pays you your wages?" said Lord Fawn shortly. - -"Eh--wages! Yes, my laird, she does a' that." - -"Then she's your mistress." Andy again nodded his head, and Lord Fawn -again struggled to find some way in which he might approach the subject. -"Her cousin, Mr. Greystock, has been staying at Portray lately?" - -"More coothie than coosinly," said Andy, winking his eye. - -It was dreadful to Lord Fawn that the man should wink his eye at him. He -did not quite understand what Andy had last said, but he did understand -that some accusation as to indecent familiarity with her cousin was -intended to be brought by this Scotch steward against the woman to whom he -had engaged himself. Every feeling of his nature revolted against the task -before him, and he found that on trial it became absolutely impracticable. -He could not bring himself to inquire minutely as to poor Lizzie's -flirting down among the rocks. He was weak and foolish, and in many -respects ignorant, but he was a gentleman. As he got nearer to the point -which it had been intended that he should reach, the more he hated Andy -Gowran, and the more he hated himself for having submitted to such -contact. He paused a moment and then he declared that the conversation was -at an end. "I think that will do, Mr. Gowran," he said. "I don't know that -you can tell me anything I want to hear. I think you had better go back to -Scotland." So saying, he left Andy alone and stalked up to the drawing- -room. When he entered it both Mr. Hittaway and his sister were there. -"Clara," he said very sternly, "you had better send some one to dismiss -that man. I shall not speak to him again." - -Lord Fawn did not speak to Andy Gowran again, but Mrs. Hittaway did. After -a faint and futile endeavour made by her to ascertain what had taken place -in the parlour down-stairs, she descended and found Andy seated in his -chair, still holding his hat in his hand, as stiff as a wax figure. He had -been afraid of the lord, but as soon as the lord had left him he was very -angry with the lord. He had been brought up all that way to tell his story -to the lord, and the lord had gone away without hearing a word of it, had -gone away and had absolutely insulted him, had asked him who paid him his -wages, and had then told him that Lady Eustace was his mistress. Andy -Gowran felt strongly that this was not that kind of confidential usage -which he had had a right to expect. And after his experience of the last -hour and a half, he did not at all relish his renewed solitude in that -room. "A drap of puir thin liquor-poored out too-in a weeny glass nae -deeper than an egg shell, and twa cookies; that's what she ca'ed -rafrashment!" It was thus that Andy afterwards spoke to his wife of the -hospitalities offered to him in Warwick Square, regarding which his anger -was especially hot, in that he had been treated like a child or a common -labourer, instead of having the decanter left with him to be used at his -own discretion. When, therefore, Mrs. Hittaway returned to him, the awe -with which new circumstances and the lord had filled him was fast -vanishing and giving place to that stubborn indignation against people in -general, which was his normal condition. "I suppose I'm jist to gang bock -again to Portray, Mrs. Heetaway, and that'll be a' you'll want o' me?" -This he said the moment the lady entered the room. - -But Mrs. Hittaway did not want to lose his services quite so soon. She -expressed regret that her brother should have found himself unable to -discuss a subject that was naturally so very distasteful to him, and -begged Mr. Gowran to come to her again the next morning. "What I saw wi' -my ain twa e'es, Mrs. Heetaway, I saw, and nane the less because his -lairdship may nae find it jist tasteful, as your leddyship was saying. -There were them twa a-colloguing, and a-seetting ilk in ither's laps a' -o'er, and a-keessing--yes, my leddy, a-keessing as females, not to say -males, ought nae to keess unless they be mon and wife--and then not amang -the rocks, my leddy; and if his lairdship does nae care to hear tell o' -it, and finds it nae tasteful, as your leddyship was saying, he should nae -ha' sent for Andy Gowran a' the way from Portray, jist to tell him what he -wanna hear, now I'm come to tell't to him!" - -All this was said with so much unction that even Mrs. Hittaway herself -found it to be not "tasteful." She shrunk and shivered under Mr. Gowran's -eloquence, and almost repented of her zeal. But women, perhaps, feel less -repugnance than men do at using ignoble assistance in the achievement of -good purposes. Though Mrs. Hittaway shrunk and shivered under the strong -action with which Mr. Gowran garnished his strong words, still she was -sure of the excellence of her purpose; and believing that useful aid might -still be obtained from Andy Gowran, and perhaps prudently anxious to get -value in return for the cost of the journey up from Ayrshire, she made the -man promise to return to her on the following morning. - - - - -CHAPTER LX - -LET IT BE AS THOUGH IT HAD NEVER BEEN - - -Between her son, and her married daughter, and Lucy Morris, poor Lady -Fawn's life had become a burthen to her. Everything was astray, and there -was no happiness or tranquillity at Fawn Court. Of all simply human -creeds, the strongest existing creed for the present in the minds of the -Fawn ladies was that which had reference to the general iniquity of Lizzie -Eustace. She had been the cause of all these sorrows, and she was hated so -much the more because she had not been proved to be iniquitous before all -the world. There had been a time when it seemed to be admitted that she -was so wicked in keeping the diamonds in opposition to the continued -demands made for them by Mr. Camperdown, that all people would be -justified in dropping her, and Lord Fawn among the number. But since the -two robberies public opinion had veered round three or four points in -Lizzie's favour and people were beginning to say that she had been ill- -used. Then had come Mrs. Hittaway's evidence as to Lizzie's wicked doings -down in Scotland--the wicked doings which Andy Gowran had described with a -vehemence so terribly moral--and that which had been at first, as it were, -added to the diamonds, as a supplementary weight thrown into the scale so -that Lizzie's iniquities might bring her absolutely to the ground, had -gradually assumed the position of being the first charge against her. Lady -Fawn had felt no aversion to discussing the diamonds. When Lizzie was -called a "thief," and a "robber," and a "swindler," by one or another of -the ladies of the family--who, in using those strong terms, whispered the -words as ladies are wont to do when they desire to lessen the impropriety -of the strength of their language by the gentleness of the tone in which -the words are spoken--when Lizzie was thus described in Lady Fawn's -hearing in her own house, she had felt no repugnance to it. It was well -that the fact should be known, so that everybody might be aware that her -son was doing right in refusing to marry so wicked a lady. But when the -other thing was added to it; when the story was told of what Mr. Gowran -had seen among the rocks, and when gradually that became the special crime -which was to justify her son in dropping the lady's acquaintance, then -Lady Fawn became very unhappy, and found the subject to be, as Mrs. -Hittaway had described it, very distasteful. - -And this trouble hit Lucy Morris as hard as it did Lord Fawn. If Lizzie -Eustace was unfit to marry Lord Fawn because of these things, then was -Frank Greystock not only unfit to marry Lucy, but most unlikely to do so, -whether fit or unfit. For a week or two Lady Fawn had allowed herself to -share Lucy's joy, and to believe that Mr. Greystock would prove himself -true to the girl whose heart he had made all his own; but she had soon -learned to distrust the young member of Parliament who was always behaving -insolently to her son, who spent his holidays down with Lizzie Eustace, -who never visited and rarely wrote to the girl he had promised to marry, -and as to whom all the world agreed in saying that he was far too much in -debt to marry any woman who had not means to help him. It was all sorrow -and vexation together; and yet when her married daughter would press the -subject upon her, and demand her co-operation, she had no power of -escaping. - -"Mamma," Mrs. Hittaway had said, "Lady Glencora Palliser has been with -her, and everybody is taking her up, and if her conduct down in Scotland -isn't proved, Frederic will be made to marry her." - -"But what can I do, my dear?" Lady Fawn had asked, almost in tears. - -"Insist that Frederic shall know the whole truth," replied Mrs. Hittaway -with energy. "Of course it is very disagreeable. Nobody can feel it more -than I do. It is horrible to have to talk about such things, and to think -of them." - -"Indeed it is, Clara, very horrible." - -"But anything, mamma, is better than that Frederic should be allowed to -marry such a woman as that. It must be proved to him--how unfit she is to -be his wife." With the view of carrying out this intention, Mrs. Hittaway -had, as we have seen, received Andy Gowran at her own house; and with the -same view she took Andy Gowran the following morning down to Richmond. - -Mrs. Hittaway, and her mother, and Andy were closeted together for half an -hour, and Lady Fawn suffered grievously. Lord Fawn had found that he -couldn't hear the story, and he had not heard it. He had been strong -enough to escape, and had, upon the whole, got the best of it in the -slight skirmish which had taken place between him and the Scotchman, but -poor old Lady Fawn could not escape. Andy was allowed to be eloquent, and -the whole story was told to her, though she would almost sooner have been -flogged at a cart's tail than have heard it. Then "rafrashments" were -administered to Andy of a nature which made him prefer Fawn Court to -Warwick Square, and he was told that he might go back to Portray as soon -as he pleased. - -When he was gone, Mrs. Hittaway opened her mind to her mother altogether. -"The truth is, mamma, that Frederic will marry her." - -"But why? I thought that he had declared that he would give it up. I -thought that he had said so to herself." - -"What of that, if he retracts what he said? He is so weak. Lady Glencora -Palliser has made him promise to go and see her; and he is to go to-day. -He is there now, probably, at this very moment. If he had been firm, the -thing was done. After all that has taken place, nobody would ever have -supposed that his engagement need go for anything. But what can he say to -her now that he is in with her, except just do the mischief all over -again? I call it quite wicked in that woman's interfering. I do, indeed! -She's a nasty, insolent, impertinent creature; that's what she is. After -all the trouble I've taken, she comes and undoes it all with one word." - -"What can we do, Clara?" - -"Well; I do believe that if Frederic could be made to act as he ought to -do, just for a while, she would marry her cousin, Mr. Greystock, and then -there would be an end of it altogether. I really think that she likes him -best, and from all that I can hear she would take him now, if Frederic -would only keep out of the way. As for him, of course he is doing his very -best to get her. He has not one shilling to rub against another, and is -over head and ears in debt." - -"Poor Lucy!" ejaculated Lady Fawn. - -"Well, yes; but really that is a matter of course. I always thought, -mamma, that you and Amelia were a little wrong to coax her up in that -belief." - -"But, my dear, the man proposed for her in the plainest possible manner. I -saw his letter." - -"No doubt; men do propose. We all know that. I'm sure I don't know what -they get by it, but I suppose it amuses them. There used to be a sort of -feeling that if a man behaved badly something would be done to him; but -that's all over now. A man may propose to whom he likes, and if he chooses -to say afterwards that it doesn't mean anything, there's nothing in the -world to bring him to book." - -"That's very hard," said the elder lady, of whom everybody said that she -did not understand the world as well as her daughter. - -"The girls--they all know that it is so, and I suppose it comes to the -same thing in the long run. The men have to marry, and what one girl loses -another girl gets." - -"It will kill Lucy." - -"Girls ain't killed so easy, mamma--not now-a-days. Saying that it will -kill her won't change the man's nature. It wasn't to be expected that such -a man as Frank Greystock, in debt, and in Parliament, and going to all the -best houses, should marry your governess. What was he to get by it? That's -what I want to know." - -"I suppose he loved her." - -"Laws, mamma, how antediluvian you are! No doubt he did like her--after -his fashion; though what he saw in her, I never could tell. I think Miss -Morris would make a very nice wife for a country clergyman who didn't care -how poor things were. But she has no style; and as far as I can see she -has no beauty. Why should such a man as Frank Greystock tie himself by the -leg for ever to such a girl as that? But, mamma, he doesn't mean to marry -Lucy Morris. Would he have been going on in that way with his cousin down -in Scotland had he meant it? He means nothing of the kind. He means to -marry Lady Eustace's income if he can get it; and she would marry him -before the summer, if only we could keep Frederic away from her." - -Mrs. Hittaway demanded from her mother that in season and out of season -she should be urgent with Lord Fawn, impressing upon him the necessity of -waiting, in order that he might see how false Lady Eustace was to him; and -also that she should teach Lucy Morris how vain were all her hopes. If -Lucy Morris would withdraw her claims altogether the thing might probably -be more quickly and more surely managed. If Lucy could be induced to tell -Frank that she withdrew her claim, and that she saw how impossible it was -that they should ever be man and wife, then--so argued Mrs. Hittaway-- -Frank would at once throw himself at his cousin's feet, and all the -difficulty would be over. The abominable, unjustifiable, and insolent -interference of Lady Glencora just at the present moment would be the -means of undoing all the good that had been done, unless it could be -neutralised by some such activity as this. The necklace had absolutely -faded away into nothing. The sly creature was almost becoming a heroine on -the strength of the necklace. The very mystery with which the robberies -were pervaded was acting in her favour. Lord Fawn would absolutely be made -to marry her--forced into it by Lady Glencora and that set--unless the -love affair between her and her cousin, of which Andy Gowran was able to -give such sufficient testimony, could in some way be made available to -prevent it. - -The theory of life and system on which social matters should be managed, -as displayed by her married daughter, was very painful to poor old Lady -Fawn. When she was told that under the new order of things promises from -gentlemen were not to be looked upon as binding, that love was to go for -nothing, that girls were to be made contented by being told that when one -lover was lost another could be found, she was very unhappy. She could not -disbelieve it all, and throw herself back upon her faith in virtue, -constancy, and honesty. She rather thought that things had changed for the -worse since she was young, and that promises were not now as binding as -they used to be. She herself had married into a Liberal family, had a -Liberal son, and would have called herself a Liberal; but she could not -fail to hear from others, her neighbours, that the English manners, and -English principles, and English society were all going to destruction in -consequence of the so-called liberality of the age. Gentlemen, she -thought, certainly did do things which gentlemen would not have done forty -years ago; and as for ladies--they, doubtless, were changed altogether. -Most assuredly she could not have brought an Andy Gowran to her mother to -tell such tales in their joint presence as this man had told! - -Mrs. Hittaway had ridiculed her for saying that poor Lucy would die when -forced to give up her lover. Mrs. Hittaway had spoken of the necessity of -breaking up that engagement without a word of anger against Frank -Greystock. According to Mrs. Hittaway's views Frank Greystock had amused -himself in the most natural way in the world when he asked Lucy to be his -wife. A governess like Lucy had been quite foolish to expect that such a -man as Greystock was in earnest. Of course she must give up her lover; and -if there must be blame she, must blame herself for her folly! -Nevertheless, Lady Fawn was so soft-hearted that she believed that the -sorrow would crush Lucy, even if it did not kill her. - -But not the less was it her duty to tell Lucy what she thought to be the -truth. The story of what had occurred among the rocks at Portray was very -disagreeable, but she believed it to be true. The man had been making love -to his cousin after his engagement to Lucy. And then, was it not quite -manifest that he was neglecting poor Lucy in every way? He had not seen -her for nearly six months. Had he intended to marry her, would he not have -found a home for her at the deanery? Did he in any respect treat her as he -would treat the girl whom he intended to marry? Putting all these things -together, Lady Fawn thought that she saw that Lucy's case was hopeless; -and, so thinking, wrote to her the following letter: - -"FAWN COURT, 3d March, 18-- - -"DEAREST LUCY: I have so much to say to you that I did think of getting -Lady Linlithgow to let you come to us here for a day, but I believe it -will perhaps be better that I should write. I think you leave Lady -Linlithgow after the first week in April, and it is quite necessary that -you should come to some fixed arrangement as to the future. If that were -all, there need not be any trouble, as you will come here, of course. -Indeed, this is your natural home, as we all feel; and I must say that we -have missed you most terribly since you went, not only for Cecilia and -Nina, but for all of us. And I don't know that I should write at all if it -wasn't for something else, that must be said sooner or later; because, as -to your coming here in April, that is so much a matter of course. The only -mistake was, that you should ever have gone away. So we shall expect you -here on whatever day you may arrange with Lady Linlithgow as to leaving -her." (The poor, dear lady went on repeating her affectionate invitation, -because of the difficulty she encountered in finding words with which to -give the cruel counsel which she thought that it was her duty to offer.) - -"And now, dearest Lucy, I must say what I believe to be the truth about -Mr. Greystock. I think that you should teach yourself to forget him, or at -any rate, that you should teach yourself to forget the offer which he made -to you last autumn. Whether he was or was not in earnest then, I think -that he has now determined to forget it. I fear there is no doubt that he -has been making love to his cousin, Lady Eustace. You well know that I -should not mention such a thing, if I had not the strongest possible -grounds to convince me that I ought to do so. But, independent of this, -his conduct to you during the last six months has been such as to make us -all feel sure that the engagement is distasteful to him. He has probably -found himself so placed that he cannot marry without money, and has wanted -the firmness, or perhaps you will say the hardness of heart, to say so -openly. I am sure of this, and so is Amelia, that it will be better for -you to give the matter up altogether, and to come here and recover the -blow among friends who will be as kind to you as possible. I know all that -you will feel, and you have my fullest sympathy; but even such sorrows as -that are cured by time, and by the mercy of God, which is not only -infinite, but all-powerful. - -"Your most affectionate friend, - -"C. FAWN." - -Lady Fawn, when she had written her letter, discussed it with Amelia, and -the two together agreed that Lucy would never surmount the ill effects of -the blow which was thus prophesied. "As to saying it will kill her, -mamma," said Amelia, "I don't believe in that. If I were to break my leg, -the accident might shorten my life, and this may shorten hers. It won't -kill her in any other way. But it will alter her altogether. Nobody ever -used to make herself happy so easily as Lucy Morris, but all that will be -gone now." - -When Lucy received the letter, the immediate effect upon her, the effect -which came from the first reading of it, was not very great. She succeeded -for some half-hour in putting it aside, as referring to a subject on which -she had quite made up her mind in a direction contrary to that indicated -by her correspondent's advice. Lady Fawn told her that her lover intended -to be false to her. She had thought the matter over very carefully within -the last day or two, and had altogether made up her mind that she would -continue to trust her lover. She had abstained from sending to him the -letter which she had written, and had abstained on that resolution. Lady -Fawn, of course, was as kind and friendly as a friend could be. She loved -Lady Fawn dearly. But she was not bound to think Lady Fawn right, and in -this instance she did not think Lady Fawn right. So she folded up the -letter and put it in her pocket. - -But by putting the letter into her pocket she could not put it out of her -mind. Though she had resolved, of what use to her was a resolution in -which she could not trust? Day had passed by after day, week after week, -and month after month, and her very soul within her had become sad for -want of seeing this man, who was living almost in the next street to her. -She was ashamed to own to herself how many hours she had sat at the -window, thinking that, perhaps, he might walk before the house in which he -knew that she was immured. And, even had it been impossible that he should -come to her, the post was open to him. She had scorned to write to him -oftener than he would write to her, and now their correspondence had -dwindled almost to nothing. He knew as well as did Lady Fawn when the -period of her incarceration in Lady Linlithgow's dungeon would come to an -end; and he knew, too, how great had been her hope that she might be -accepted as a guest at the deanery when that period should arrive. He knew -that she must look for a new home, unless he would tell her where she -should live. Was it likely, was it possible, that he should be silent so -long if he still intended to make her his wife? No doubt he had come to -remember his debts, to remember his ambition, to think of his cousin's -wealth, and to think also of his cousin's beauty. What right had she ever -had to hope for such a position as that of his wife, she who had neither -money nor beauty, she who had nothing to give him in return for his name -and the shelter of his house beyond her mind and her heart? As she thought -of it all, she looked down upon her faded gray frock, and stood up that -she might glance at her features in the glass; and she saw how small she -was and insignificant, and reminded herself that all she had in the world -was a few pounds which she had saved and was still saving in order that -she might go to him with decent clothes upon her back. Was it reasonable -that she should expect it? - -But why had he come to her and made her thus wretched? She could -acknowledge to herself that she had been foolish, vain, utterly ignorant -of her own value in venturing to hope; perhaps unmaidenly in allowing it -to be seen that she had hoped; but what was he in having first exalted her -before all her friends, and then abasing her so terribly and bringing her -to such utter shipwreck? From spoken or written reproaches she could of -course abstain. She would neither write or speak any; but from unuttered -reproaches how could she abstain? She had called him a traitor once in -playful, loving irony, during those few hours in which her love had been -to her a luxury that she could enjoy. But now he was a traitor indeed. Had -he left her alone she would have loved him in silence, and not have been -wretched in her love. She would, she knew, in that case, have had vigour -enough and sufficient strength of character to bear her burden without -outward signs of suffering, without any inward suffering that would have -disturbed the current of her life. But now everything was over with her. -She had no thought of dying, but her future life was a blank to her. - -She came down-stairs to sit at lunch with Lady Linlithgow, and the old -woman did not perceive that anything was amiss with her companion. Further -news had been heard of Lizzie Eustace, and of Lord Fawn, and of the -robberies, and the countess declared how she had read in the newspapers -that one man was already in custody for the burglary at the house in -Hertford Street. From that subject she went on to tidings which had -reached her from her old friend Lady Clantantram that the Fawn marriage -was on again. "Not that I believe it, my dear; because I think that Mr. -Greystock has made it quite safe in that quarter." All this Lucy heard, -and never showed by a single sign, or by a motion of a muscle, that she -was in pain. Then Lady Linlithgow asked her what she meant to do after the -5th of April. "I don't see at all why you shouldn't stay here, if you like -it, Miss Morris; that is, if you have abandoned the stupid idea of an -engagement with Frank Greystock." Lucy smiled, and even thanked the -countess, and said that she had made up her mind to go back to Richmond -for a month or two, till she could get another engagement as a governess. -Then she returned to her room and sat again at her window, looking out -upon the street. - -What did it matter now where she went? And yet she must go somewhere, and -do something. There remained to her the wearisome possession of herself, -and while she lived she must eat, and have clothes, and require shelter. -She could not dawdle out a bitter existence under Lady Fawn's roof, eating -the bread of charity, hanging about the rooms and shrubberies useless and -idle. How bitter to her was that possession of herself, as she felt that -there was nothing good to be done with the thing so possessed! She doubted -even whether ever again she could become serviceable as a governess, and -whether the energy would be left to her of earning her bread by teaching -adequately the few things that she knew. But she must make the attempt, -and must go on making it, till God in his mercy should take her to -himself. - -And yet but a few months since life had been so sweet to her! As she felt -this she was not thinking of those short days of excited feverish bliss, -in which she had believed that all the good things of the world were to be -showered into her lap; but of previous years in which everything had been -with her as it was now--with the one exception that she had not then been -deceived. She had been full of smiles, and humour, and mirth, absolutely -happy among her friends, though conscious of the necessity of earning her -bread by the exercise of a most precarious profession, while elated by no -hope. Though she had loved the man and had been hopeless, she was happy. -But now, surely, of all maidens, and of all women, she was the most -forlorn. - -Having once acceded to the truth of Lady Fawn's views, she abandoned all -hope. Everybody said so, and it was so. There was no word from any side to -encourage her. The thing was done and over, and she would never mention -his name again. She would simply beg of all the Fawns that no allusion -might be made to him in her presence. She would never blame him, and -certainly she would never praise him. As far as she could rule her tongue, -she would never have his name upon her lips again. - -She thought for a time that she would send the letter which she had -already written. Any other letter she could not bring herself to write. -Even to think of him was an agony to her; but to communicate her thoughts -to him was worse than agony. It would be almost madness. What need was -there for any letter? If the thing was done it was done. Perhaps there -remained with her, staying by her without her own knowledge, some faint -spark of hope, that even yet he might return to her. At last she resolved -that there should be no letter, and she destroyed that which she had -written. - -But she did write a note to Lady Fawn, in which she gratefully accepted -her old friend's kindness till such time as she could "find a place." "As -to that other subject," she said, "I know that you are right. Please let -it all be as though it had never been." - - - - -CHAPTER LXI - -LIZZIE'S GREAT FRIEND - - -The Saturday morning came at last for which Lord Fawn had made his -appointment with Lizzie, and a very important day it was in Hertford -Street, chiefly on account of his lordship's visit, but also in respect to -other events which crowded themselves into the day. In the telling of our -tale we have gone a little in advance of this, as it was not till the -subsequent Monday that Lady Linlithgow read in the newspaper, and told -Lucy, how a man had been arrested on account of the robbery. Early on the -Saturday morning Sir Griffin Tewett was in Hertford Street, and, as Lizzie -afterwards understood, there was a terrible scene between both him and -Lucinda and him and Mrs. Carbuncle. She saw nothing of it herself, but -Mrs. Carbuncle brought her the tidings. For the last few days Mrs. -Carbuncle had been very affectionate in her manner to Lizzie, thereby -showing a great change; for nearly the whole of February the lady, who in -fact owned the house, had hardly been courteous to her remunerative guest, -expressing more than once a hint that the arrangement which had brought -them together had better come to an end. "You see, Lady Eustace," Mrs. -Carbuncle had once said, "the trouble about these robberies is almost too -much for me." Lizzie, who was ill at the time, and still trembling with -constant fear on account of the lost diamonds, had taken advantage of her -sick condition, and declined to argue the question of her removal. Now she -was supposed to be convalescent, but Mrs. Carbuncle had returned to her -former ways of affection. No doubt there was cause for this--cause that -was patent to Lizzie herself. Lady Glencora Palliser had called, which -thing alone was felt by Lizzie to alter her position altogether. And then, -though her diamonds were gone, and though the thieves who had stolen them -were undoubtedly aware of her secret as to the first robbery, though she -had herself told that secret to Lord George, whom she had not seen since -she had done so, in spite of all these causes for trouble, she had of late -gradually found herself to be emerging from the state of despondency into -which she had fallen while the diamonds were in her own custody. She knew -that she was regaining her ascendancy; and therefore when Mrs. Carbuncle -came to tell her of the grievous things which had been said down-stairs -between Sir Griffin and his mistress, and to consult her as to the future, -Lizzie was not surprised. - -"I suppose the meaning of it is that the match must be off," said Lizzie. - -"Oh, dear, no; pray don't say anything so horrid after all that I have -gone through. Don't suggest anything of that kind to Lucinda." - -"But surely after what you've told me now, he'll never come here again." - -"Oh yes, he will. There's no danger about his coming back. It's only a -sort of a way he has." - -"A very disagreeable way," said Lizzie. - -"No doubt, Lady Eustace. But then you know you can't have it all sweet. -There must be some things disagreeable. As far as I can learn the property -will be all right after a few years, and it is absolutely indispensable -that Lucinda should do something. She has accepted him and she must go on -with it." - -"She seems to me to be very unhappy, Mrs. Carbuncle." - -"That was always her way. She was never gay and cheery like other girls. I -have never known her once to be what you would call happy." - -"She likes hunting." - -"Yes, because she can gallop away out of herself. I have done all I can -for her, and she must go on with the marriage now. As for going back, it -is out of the question. The truth is, we couldn't afford it." - -"Then you must keep him in a better humour." - -"I am not so much afraid about him; but, dear Lady Eustace, we want you to -help us a little." - -"How can I help you?" - -"You can, certainly. Could you lend me two hundred and fifty pounds just -for six weeks?" Lizzie's face fell and her eyes became very serious in -their aspect. Two hundred and fifty pounds! "You know you would have ample -security. You need not give Lucinda her present till I've paid you, and -that will be forty-five pounds." - -"Thirty-five," said Lizzie with angry decision. - -"I thought we agreed upon forty-five when we settled about the servants' -liveries; and then you can let the man at the stables know that I am to -pay for the carriage and horses. You wouldn't be out of the money hardly -above a week or so, and it might be the salvation of Lucinda just at -present." - -"Why don't you ask Lord George?" - -"Ask Lord George! He hasn't got it. It's much more likely that he should -ask me. I don't know what's come to Lord George this last month past. I -did believe that you and he were to come together. I think these two -robberies have upset him altogether. But, dear Lizzie, you can let me have -it, can't you?" - -Lizzie did not at all like the idea of lending money, and by no means -appreciated the security now offered to her. It might be very well for her -to tell the man at the stables that Mrs. Carbuncle would pay him her bill, -but how would it be with her if Mrs. Carbuncle did not pay the bill? And -as for her present to Lucinda--which was to have been a present, and -regarded by the future Lady Tewett as a voluntary offering of good will -and affection--she was altogether averse to having, it disposed of in this -fashion. And yet she did not like to make an enemy of Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"I never was so poor in my life before, not since I was married," said -Lizzie. - -"You can't be poor, dear Lady Eustace." - -"They took my money out of my desk, you know--ever so much." - -"Forty-three pounds," said Mrs. Carbuncle, who was, of course, well -instructed in all the details of the robbery. - -"And I don't suppose you can guess what the autumn cost me at Portray. The -bills are only coming in now, and really they sometimes so frighten me -that I don't know what I shall do. Indeed I haven't got the money to -spare." - -"You'll have every penny of it back in six weeks," said Mrs. Carbuncle, -upon whose face a glow of anger was settling down. She quite intended to -make herself very disagreeable to her "dear Lady Eustace" or her "dear -Lizzie" if she did not get what she wanted; and she knew very well how to -do it. It must be owned that Lizzie was afraid of the woman. It was almost -impossible for her not to be afraid of the people with whom she lived. -There were so many things against her; so many sources of fear! "I am -quite sure you won't refuse me such a trifling favour as this," said Mrs. -Carbuncle, with the glow of anger reddening more and more upon her brow. - -"I don't think I have so much at the bankers," said Lizzie. - -"They'll let you overdraw just as much as you please. If the check comes -back that will be my look out." Lizzie had tried that game before, and -knew that the bankers would allow her to overdraw. "Come, be a good friend -and do it at once," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Perhaps I can manage a hundred and fifty," said Lizzie, trembling. Mrs. -Carbuncle fought hard for the greater sum; but at last consented to take -the less, and the check was written. - -"This, of course, won't interfere with Lucinda's present," said Mrs. -Carbuncle, "as we can make all this right by the horse and carriage -account." To this proposition, however, Lady Eustace made no answer. - -Soon after lunch, at which meal Miss Roanoke did not show herself, Lady -Glencora Palliser was announced, and sat for about ten minutes in the -drawing-room. She had come, she said, to give the Duke of Omnium's -compliments to Lady Eustace, and to express a wish on the part of the duke -that the lost diamonds might be recovered. - -"I doubt," said Lady Glencora, "whether there is any one in England except -professed jewellers who knows so much about diamonds as his grace." - -"Or who has so many," said Mrs. Carbuncle, smiling graciously. - -"I don't know about that. I suppose there are, family diamonds, though I -have never seen them. But he sympathises with you completely, Lady -Eustace. I suppose there is hardly hope now of recovering them!" Lizzie -smiled and shook her head. "Isn't it odd that they never should have -discovered the thieves? I'm told they haven't at all given it up, only, -unfortunately they'll never get back the necklace." She sat there for -about a quarter of an hour, and then, as she took her leave, she whispered -a few words to Lizzie. "He is to come and see you, isn't he?" Lizzie -assented with a smile, but without a word. "I hope it will be all right," -said Lady Glencora, and then she went. - -Lizzie liked this friendship from Lady Glencora amazingly. Perhaps, after -all, nothing more would ever be known about the diamonds, and they would -simply be remembered as having added a peculiar and not injurious mystery -to her life. Lord George knew, but then she trusted that a benevolent, -true-hearted Corsair, such as was Lord George, would never tell the story -against her. The thieves knew, but surely they, if not detected, would -never tell. And if the story were told by thieves, or even by a Corsair, -at any rate half the world would not believe it. What she had feared--had -feared till the dread had nearly overcome her--was public exposure at the -hands of the police. If she could escape that, the world might stilll be -bright before her. And the interest taken in her by such persons as the -Duke of Omnium and Lady Glencora was evidence not only that she had -escaped it hitherto, but also that she was in a fair way to escape it -altogether. Three weeks ago she would have given up half her income to -have been able to steal out of London without leaving a trace behind her. -Three weeks ago Mrs. Carbuncle was treating her with discourtesy, and she -was left alone nearly the whole day in her sick bedroom. Things were going -better with her now. She was recovering her position. Mr. Camperdown, who -had been the first to attack her, was, so to say, "nowhere." He had -acknowledged himself beaten. Lord Fawn, whose treatment to her had been so -great an injury, was coming to see her that very day. Her cousin Frank, -though he had never offered to marry her, was more affectionate to her -than ever. Mrs. Carbuncle had been at her feet that morning borrowing -money. And Lady Glencora Palliser, the very leading star of fashion, had -called upon her twice! Why should she succumb? She had an income of four -thousand pounds a year, and she thought that she could remember that her -aunt, Lady Linlithgow, had but seven hundred pounds. Lady Fawn with all -her daughters had not near so much as she had. And she was beautiful, too, -and young, and perfectly free to do what she pleased. No doubt the last -eighteen months of her life had been made wretched by those horrid -diamonds; but they were gone, and she had fair reason to hope that the -very knowledge of them was gone also. - -In this condition would it be expedient for her to accept Lord Fawn when -he came? She could not, of course, be sure that any renewed offer would be -the result of his visit: but she thought it probable that with care she -might bring him to that. Why should he come to her if he himself had no -such intention? Her mind was quite made up on this point, that he should -be made to renew his offer; but whether she would renew her acceptance was -quite another question. She had sworn to her cousin Frank that she would -never do so, and she had sworn also that she would be revenged on this -wretched lord. Now would be her opportunity of accomplishing her revenge, -and of proving to Frank that she had been in earnest. And she positively -disliked the man. That probably did not go for much, but it went for -something, even with Lizzie Eustace. Her cousin she did like, and Lord -George. She hardly knew which was her real love, though no doubt she gave -the preference greatly to her cousin, because she could trust him. And -then Lord Fawn was very poor. The other two men were poor also; but their -poverty was not so objectionable in Lizzie's eyes as were the respectable, -close-fisted economies of Lord Fawn. Lord Fawn, no doubt, had an assured -income and a real peerage, and could make her a peeress. As she thought of -it all, she acknowledged that there was a great deal to be said on each -side, and that the necessity of making up her mind then and there was a -heavy burthen upon her. - -Exactly at the hour named Lord Fawn came, and Lizzie was, of course, found -alone. That had been carefully provided. He was shown up, and she received -him very gracefully. She was sitting, and she rose from her chair, and put -out her hand for him to take. She spoke no word of greeting, but looked at -him with a pleasant smile, and stood for a few seconds with her hand in -his. He was awkward, and much embarrassed, and she certainly had no -intention of lessening his embarrassment. "I hope you are better than you -have been," he said at last. - -"I am getting better, Lord Fawn. Will you not sit down?" He then seated -himself, placing his hat beside him on the floor, but at the moment could -not find words to speak. "I have been very ill." - -"I have been so sorry to hear it." - -"There has been much to make me ill--has there not?" - -"About the robbery, you mean?" - -"About many things. The robbery has been by no means the worst, though no -doubt it frightened me much. There were two robberies, Lord Fawn." - -"Yes, I know that." - -"And it was very terrible. And then, I had been threatened with a lawsuit. -You have heard that, too?" - -"Yes--I had heard it." - -"I believe they have given that up now. I understand from my cousin, Mr. -Greystock, who has been my truest friend in all my troubles, that the -stupid people have found out at last that they had not a leg to stand on. -I dare say you have heard that, Lord Fawn?" - -Lord Fawn certainly had heard, in a doubtful way, the gist of Mr. Dove's -opinion, namely, that the necklace could not be claimed from the holder of -it as an heirloom attached to the Eustace family. But he had heard at the -same time that Mr. Camperdown was as confident as ever that he could -recover the property by claiming it after another fashion. Whether or no -that claim had been altogether abandoned, or had been allowed to fall into -abeyance because of the absence of the diamonds, he did not know, nor did -any one know--Mr. Camperdown himself having come to no decision on the -subject. But Lord Fawn had been aware that his sister had of late shifted -the ground of her inveterate enmity to Lizzie Eustace, making use of the -scene which Mr. Gowran had witnessed, in lieu of the lady's rapacity in -regard to the necklace. It might therefore be assumed, Lord Fawn thought -and feared, that his strong ground in regard to the necklace had been cut -from under his feet. But still, it did not behoove him to confess that the -cause which he had always alleged as the ground for his retreat from the -engagement was no cause at all. It might go hard with him should an -attempt be made to force him to name another cause. He knew that he would -lack the courage to tell the lady that he had heard from his sister that -one Andy Gowran had witnessed a terrible scene down among the rocks at -Portray. So he sat silent, and made no answer to Lizzie's first assertion -respecting the diamonds. - -But the necklace was her strong point, and she did not intend that he -should escape the subject. "If I remember right, Lord Fawn, you yourself -saw that wretched old attorney once or twice on the subject?" - -"I did see Mr. Camperdown, certainly. He is my own family lawyer." - -"You were kind enough to interest yourself about the diamonds--were you -not?" She asked him this as a question, and then waited for a reply. "Was -it not so?" - -"Yes, Lady Eustace; it was so." - -"They were of great value, and it was natural," continued "Lizzie. "Of -course you interested yourself. Mr. Camperdown was full of awful threats -against me--was he not? I don't know what he was not going to do. He -stopped me in the street as I was driving to the station in my own -carriage, when the diamonds were with me; which was a very strong measure, -I think. And he wrote me ever so many, oh, such horrid letters. And he -went about telling everybody that it was an heirloom--didn't he? You know -all that, Lord Fawn?" - -"I know that he wanted to recover them." - -"And did he tell you that he went to a real lawyer, somebody who really -knew about it, Mr. Turbot, or Turtle, or some such name as that, and the -real lawyer told him that he was all wrong, and that the necklace couldn't -be an heirloom at all, because it belonged to me, and that he had better -drop his lawsuit altogether? Did you hear that?" - -"No; I did not hear that." - -"Ah, Lord Fawn, you dropped your inquiries just at the wrong place. No -doubt you had too many things to do in Parliament and the Government to go -on with them; but if you had gone on, you would have learned that Mr. -Camperdown had just to give it up, because he had been wrong from -beginning to end." Lizzie's words fell from her with extreme rapidity, and -she had become almost out of breath from the effects of her own energy. - -Lord Fawn felt strongly the necessity of clinging to the diamonds as his -one great and sufficient justification. "I thought," said he, "that Mr. -Camperdown had abandoned his action for the present because the jewels had -been stolen." - -"Not a bit of it," said Lizzie, rising suddenly to her legs. "Who says so? -Who dares to say so? Whoever says so is--is a story-teller. I understand -all about that. The action could go on just the same, and I could be made -to pay for the necklace out of my own income if it hadn't been my own. I -am sure, Lord Fawn, such a clever man as you, and one who has always been -in the Government and in Parliament, can see that. And will anybody -believe that such an enemy as Mr. Camperdown has been to me, persecuting -me in every possible way, telling lies about everybody, who tried to -prevent my dear, darling husband from marrying me, that he wouldn't go on -with it if he could?" - -"Mr. Camperdown is a very respectable man, Lady Eustace." - -"Respectable! Talk to me of respectable after all that he has made me -suffer! As you were so fond of making inquiries, Lord Fawn, you ought to -have gone on with them. You never would believe what my cousin said." - -"Your cousin always behaved very badly to me." - -"My cousin, who is a brother rather than a cousin, has known how to -protect me from the injuries done to me, or rather, has known how to take -my part when I have been injured. My lord, as you have been unwilling to -believe him, why have you not gone to that gentleman who, as I say, is a -real lawyer? I don't know, my lord, that it need have concerned you at -all, but as you began, you surely should have gone on with it. Don't you -think so?" She was still standing up and, small as was her stature, was -almost menacing the unfortunate Under-Secretary of State, who was still -seated in his chair. "My lord," continued Lizzie, "I have had great wrong -done me." - -"Do you mean by me?" - -"Yes, by you. Who else has done it?" - -"I do not think that I have done wrong to any one. I was obliged to say -that I could not recognise those diamonds as the property of my wife." - -"But what right had you to say so? I had the diamonds when you asked me to -be your wife." - -"I did not know it." - -"Nor did you know that I had this little ring upon my finger. Is it fit -that you, or that any man should turn round upon a lady and say to her -that your word is to be broken, and that she is to be exposed before all -her friends, because you have taken a fancy to dislike her ring or her -brooch? I say, Lord Fawn, it was no business of yours, even after you were -engaged to me. What jewels I might have, or not have, was no concern of -yours till after I had become your wife. Go and ask all the world if it is -not so. You say that my cousin affronts you because he takes my part, like -a brother. Ask any one else. Ask any lady you may know. Let us name some -one to decide between us which of us has been wrong. Lady Glencora -Palliser is a friend of yours, and her husband is in the Government. Shall -we name her? It is true, indeed, that her uncle, the Duke of Omnium, the -grandest and greatest of English noblemen, is specially interested on my -behalf." This was very fine in Lizzie. The Duke of Omnium she had never -seen; but his name had been mentioned to her by Lady Glencora, and she was -quick to use it. - -"I can admit of no reference to any one," said Lord Fawn. - -"And I then, what am I to do? I am to be thrown over simply because your -lordship--chooses to throw me over. Your lordship will admit no reference -to any one! Your lordship makes inquiries as long as an attorney tells you -stories against me, but drops them at once when the attorney is made to -understand that he is wrong. Tell me this, sir. Can you justify yourself -in your own heart?" - -Unfortunately for Lord Fawn, he was not sure that he could justify -himself. The diamonds were gone, and the action was laid aside, and the -general opinion which had prevailed a month or two since, that Lizzie had -been disreputably concerned in stealing her own necklace, seemed to have -been laid aside. Lady Glencora and the duke went for almost as much with -Lord Fawn as they did with Lizzie. No doubt the misbehaviour down among -the rocks was left to him; but he had that only on the evidence of Andy -Gowran, and even Andy Gowran's evidence he had declined to receive -otherwise than second-hand. Lizzie, too, was prepared with an answer to -this charge, an answer which she had already made more than once, though -the charge was not positively brought against her, and which consisted in -an assertion that Frank Greystock was her brother rather than her cousin. -Such brotherhood was not altogether satisfactory to Lord Fawn, when he -came once more to regard Lizzie Eustace as his possible future wife; but -still the assertion was an answer, and one that he could not altogether -reject. - -It certainly was the case that he had again begun to think what would be -the result of a marriage with Lady Eustace. He must sever himself -altogether from Mrs. Hittaway, and must relax the closeness of his -relations with Fawn Court. He would have a wife respecting whom he himself -had spread evil tidings, and the man whom he most hated in the world would -be his wife's favourite cousin or, so to say, brother. He would, after a -fashion, be connected with Mrs. Carbuncle, Lord George de Brace -Carruthers, and Sir Griffin Tewett, all of whom he regarded as thoroughly -disreputable. And, moreover, at his own country house at Portray, as in -such case it would be, his own bailiff or steward would be the man who had -seen, what he had seen. These were great objections; but how was he to -avoid marrying? He was engaged to her. How, at any rate, was he to escape -from the renewal of his engagement at this moment? He had more than once -positively stated that he was deterred from marrying her only by her -possession of the diamonds. The diamonds were now gone. - -Lizzie was still standing, waiting for an answer to her question: Can you -justify yourself in your own heart? Having paused for some seconds she -repeated her question in a stronger and more personal form. "Had I been -your sister, Lord Fawn, and had another man behaved to me as you have now -done, would you say that he had behaved well and that she had no ground -for complaint? Can you bring yourself to answer that question honestly?" - -"I hope I shall answer no question dishonestly." - -"Answer it then. No; you cannot answer it, because you would condemn -yourself. Now, Lord Fawn, what do you mean to do?" - -"I had thought, Lady Eustace, that any regard which you might ever have -entertained for me--" - -"Well; what had you thought of my regard?" - -"That it had been dissipated." - -"Have I told you so? Has any one come to you from me with such a message?" - -"Have you not received attentions from any one else?" - -"Attentions; what attentions? I have received plenty of attentions, most -flattering attentions. I was honoured even this morning by a most -gratifying attention on the part of his grace the Duke of Omnium." - -"I did not mean that." - -"What do you mean, then? I am not going to marry the Duke of Omnium -because of his attention, nor any one else. If you mean, sir, after the -other inquiries you have done me the honour to make, to throw it in my -face now, that I have--have in any way rendered myself unworthy of the -position of your wife because people have been civil and kind to me in my -sorrow, you are a greater dastard than I took you to be. Tell me at once, -sir, whom you mean." - -It is hardly too much to say that the man quailed before her. And it -certainly is not too much to say that, had Lizzie Eustace been trained as -an actress, she would have become a favourite with the town. When there -came to her any fair scope for acting, she was perfect. In the ordinary -scenes of ordinary life, such as befell her during her visit to Fawn -Court, she could not acquit herself well. There was no reality about her, -and the want of it was strangely plain to most unobservant eyes. But give -her a part to play that required exaggerated, strong action, and she -hardly ever failed. Even in that terrible moment when, on her return from -the theatre, she thought that the police had discovered her secret about -the diamonds, though she nearly sank through fear, she still carried on -her acting in the presence of Lucinda Roanoke; and when she had found -herself constrained to tell the truth to Lord George Carruthers, the power -to personify a poor, weak, injured creature was not wanting to her. The -reader will not think that her position in society at the present moment -was very well established, will feel, probably, that she must still have -known herself to be on the brink of social ruin. But she had now fully -worked herself up to the necessities of the occasion, and was as able to -play her part as any actress that ever walked the boards. She had called -him a dastard, and now stood looking him in the face. "I didn't mean -anybody in particular," said Lord Fawn. - -"Then what right can you have to ask me whether I have received -attentions? Had it not been for the affectionate attention of my cousin, -Mr. Greystock, I should have died beneath the load of sorrow you have -heaped upon me." This she said quite boldly, and yet the man she named was -he of whom Andy Gowran told his horrid story, and whose love-making to -Lizzie had, in Mrs. Hittaway's opinion, been sufficient to atone for any -falling off of strength in the matter of the diamonds. - -"A rumour reached me," said Lord Fawn, plucking up his courage, "that you -were engaged to marry your cousin." - -"Then rumour lied, my lord. And he or she who repeated the rumour to you, -lied also. And any he or she who repeats it again will go on with the -lie." Lord Fawn's brow became very black. The word "lie" itself was -offensive to him, offensive even though it might not be applied directly -to himself; but he still quailed, and was unable to express his -indignation--as he had done to poor Lucy Morris, his mother's governess. -"And now let me ask, Lord Fawn, on what ground you and I stand together. -When my friend Lady Glencora asked me, only this morning, whether my -engagement with you was still an existing fact, and brought me the kindest -possible message on the same subject from her uncle, the duke, I hardly -knew what answer to make her." It was not surprising that Lizzie in her -difficulties should use her new friend, but perhaps she overdid the -friendship a little. "I told her that we were engaged, but that your -lordship's conduct to me had been so strange that I hardly knew how to -speak of you among my friends." - -"I thought I explained myself to your cousin." - -"My cousin certainly did not understand your explanation." - -Lord Fawn was certain that Greystock had understood it well; and Greystock -had in return insulted him because the engagement was broken off. But it -is impossible to argue on facts with a woman who has been ill-used. "After -all that has passed perhaps we had better part," said Lord Fawn. - -"Then I shall put the matter into the hands of the Duke of Omnium," said -Lizzie boldly. "I will not have my whole life ruined, my good name -blasted--" - -"I have not said a word to injure your good name." - -"On what plea, then, have you dared to take upon yourself to put an end to -an engagement which was made at your own pressing request--which was, of -course, made at your own request On what ground do you justify such -conduct? You are a Liberal, Lord Fawn; and everybody regards the Duke of -Omnium as the head of the Liberal nobility in England. He is my friend, -and I shall put the matter into his hands." It was probably from her -cousin Frank that Lizzie had learned that Lord Fawn was more afraid of the -leaders of his own party than of any other tribunal upon earth--or perhaps -elsewhere. - -Lord Fawn felt the absurdity of the threat, and yet it had effect upon -him. He knew that the Duke of Omnium was a worn-out old debauchee, with -one foot in the grave, who was looked after by two or three women who were -anxious only that he should not disgrace himself by some absurdity before -he died. Nevertheless the Duke of Omnium, or the duke name, was a power in -the nation. Lady Glencora was certainly very powerful, and Lady Glencora's -husband was Chancellor of the Exchequer. He did not suppose that the duke -cared in the least whether Lizzie Eustace was or was not married; but Lady -Glencora had certainly interested herself about Lizzie, and might make -London almost too hot to hold him if she chose to go about everywhere -saying that he ought to marry the lady. And in addition to all this -prospective grief, there was the trouble of the present moment. He was in -Lizzie's own room--fool that he had been to come there--and he must get -out as best he could. "Lady Eustace," he said, "I am most anxious not to -behave badly in this matter." - -"But you are behaving badly--very badly." - -"With your leave I will tell you what I would suggest. I will submit to -you in writing my opinion on this matter--" Lord Fawn had been all his -life submitting his opinion in writing, and thought that he was rather a -good hand at the work. "I will then endeavour to explain to you the -reasons which make me think that it will be better for us both that our -engagement should be at an end. If, after reading it, you shall disagree -with me, and still insist on the right which I gave you when I asked you -to become my wife, I will then perform the promise which I certainly -made." To this most foolish proposal on his part, Lizzie of course -acquiesced. She acquiesced, and bade him farewell with her sweetest smile. -It was now manifest to her that she could have her husband, or her -revenge, just as she might prefer. - -This had been a day of triumph to her, and she was talking of it in the -evening triumphantly to Mrs. Carbuncle, when she was told that a policeman -wanted to see her down-stairs! Oh, those wretched police! Again all the -blood rushed to her head and nearly killed her. She descended slowly; and -was then informed by a man, not dressed like Bunfit, in plain clothes, but -with all the paraphernalia of a policeman's uniform, that her late -servant, Patience Crabstick, had given herself up as Queen's evidence, and -was now in custody in Scotland Yard. It had been thought right that she -should be so far informed; but the man was able to tell her nothing -further. - - - - -CHAPTER LXII - -"YOU KNOW WHERE MY HEART IS" - - -On the Sunday following, Frank, as usual, was in Hertford Street. He had -become almost a favourite with Mrs. Carbuncle; and had so far ingratiated -himself even with Lucinda Roanoke that, according to Lizzie's report, he -might if so inclined rob Sir Griffin of his prize without much difficulty. -On this occasion he was unhappy and in low spirits; and when questioned on -the subject made no secret of the fact that he was harassed for money. -"The truth is, I have overdrawn my bankers by five hundred pounds, and -they have, as they say, ventured to remind me of it. I wish they were not -venturesome quite so often; for they reminded me of the same fact about a -fortnight ago." - -"What do you do with your money, Mr. Greystock?" asked Mrs. Carbuncle -laughing. - -"Muddle it away, paying my bills with it, according to the very, very old -story. The fact is I live in that detestable no man's land, between -respectability and insolvency, which has none of the pleasure of either. I -am fair game for every creditor, as I am supposed to pay my way, and yet I -never can pay my way." - -"Just like my poor dear father," said Lizzie. - -"Not exactly, Lizzie. He managed much better, and never paid anybody. If I -could only land on terra firma, one side or the other, I shouldn't much -care which. As it is, I have all the recklessness, but none of the -carelessness, of a hopelessly insolvent man. And it is so hard with us. -Attorneys owe us large sums of money, and we can't dun them very well. I -have a lot of money due to me from rich men, who don't pay me simply -because they don't think that it matters. I talk to them grandly, and look -big, as though money was the last thing I thought of, when I am longing to -touch my hat and ask them as a great favour to settle my little bill." All -this time Lizzie was full of matter which she must impart to her cousin, -and could impart to him only in privacy. - -It was absolutely necessary that she should tell him what she had heard of -Patience Crabstick. In her heart of hearts she wished that Patience -Crabstick had gone off safely with her plunder to the Antipodes. She had -no wish to get back what had been lost, either in the matter of the -diamonds or of the smaller things taken. She had sincerely wished that the -police might fail in all their endeavours, and that the thieves might -enjoy perfect security with their booty. She did not even begrudge Mr. -Benjamin the diamonds--or Lord George, if in truth Lord George had been -the last thief. The robbery had enabled her to get the better of Mr. -Camperdown, and apparently of Lord Fawn; and had freed her from the -custody of property which she had learned to hate. It had been a very good -robbery. But now these wretched police had found Patience Crabstick and -would disturb her again! - -Of course she must tell her cousin. He must hear the news, and it would be -better that he should hear it from her than from others. This was Sunday, -and she thought he would be sure to know the truth on the following -Monday. In this she was right: for on the Monday old Lady Linlithgow saw -it stated in the newspapers that an arrest had been made. "I have -something to tell you," she said, as soon as she had succeeded in finding -herself alone with him. - -"Anything about the diamonds?" - -"Well, no; not exactly about the diamonds; though perhaps it is. But -first, Frank, I want to say something else to you." - -"Not about the diamonds?" - -"Oh no; not at all. It is this. You must let me lend you that five hundred -pounds you want." - -"Indeed, you shall do no such thing. I should not have mentioned it to you -if I had not thought that you were one of the insolvent yourself. You were -in debt yourself when we last talked about money." - -"So I am; and that horrid woman, Mrs. Carbuncle, has made me lend her one -hundred and fifty pounds. But it is so different with you, Frank." - -"Yes; my needs are greater than hers." - -"What is she to me? while you are everything! Things can't be so bad with -me but what I can raise five hundred pounds. After all, I am not really in -debt, for a person with my income; but if I were, still my first duty -would be to help you if you want help." - -"Be generous first, and just afterwards. That's it; isn't it, Lizzie? But -indeed, under no circumstances could I take a penny of your money. There -are some persons from whom a man can borrow and some from whom he cannot. -You are clearly one of those from whom I cannot borrow." - -"Why not?" - -"Ah, one can't explain these things. It simply is so. Mrs. Carbuncle was -quite the natural person to borrow your money, and it seems that she has -complied with nature. Some Jew who wants thirty per cent is the natural -person for me. All these things are arranged, and it is of no use -disturbing the arrangements and getting out of course. I shall pull -through. And now let me know your own news." - -"The police have taken Patience." - -"They have, have they? Then at last we shall know all about the diamonds." -This was gall to poor Lizzie. "Where did they get her?" - -"Ah! I don't know that." - -"And who told you?" - -"A policeman came here last night and said so. She is going to turn -against the thieves and tell all that she knows. Nasty, mean creature." - -"Thieves are nasty, mean creatures generally. We shall get it all out now ---as to what happened at Carlisle and what happened here. Do you know that -everybody believes, up to this moment, that your dear friend Lord George -de Bruce sold the diamonds to Mr. Benjamin the jeweller?" - -Lizzie could only shrug her shoulders. She herself, among many doubts, was -upon the whole disposed to think as everybody thought. She did believe--as -far as she believed anything in the matter--that the Corsair had -determined to become possessed of the prize from the moment that he saw it -in Scotland; that the Corsair arranged the robbery in Carlisle, and that -again he arranged the robbery in the London house as soon as he learned -from Lizzie where the diamonds were placed. To her mind this had been the -most ready solution of the mystery, and when she found that other people -almost regarded him as the thief, her doubts became a belief. And she did -not in the least despise or dislike him or condemn him for what he had -done. Were he to come to her and confess it all, telling his story in such -a manner as to make her seem to be safe for the future, she would -congratulate him and accept him at once as her own dear, expected Corsair. -But if so, he should not have bungled the thing. He should have managed -his subordinates better than to have one of them turn evidence against -him. He should have been able to get rid of a poor weak female like -Patience Crabstick. Why had he not sent her to New York, or--or--or -anywhere? If Lizzie were to hear that Lord George had taken Patience out -to sea in a yacht--somewhere among the bright islands of which she thought -so much--and dropped the girl overboard, tied up in a bag, she would -regard it as a proper Corsair arrangement. Now she was angry with Lord -George because her trouble was coming back upon her. Frank had suggested -that Lord George was the robber in chief, and Lizzie merely shrugged her -shoulders. "We shall know all about it now," said he triumphantly. - -"I don't know that I want to know any more about it. I have been so -tortured about these wretched diamonds that I never wish to hear them -mentioned again. I don't care who has got them. My enemies used to think -that I loved them so well that I could not bear to part with them. I hated -them always, and never took any pleasure in them. I used to think that I -would throw them into the sea; and when they were gone I was glad of it." - -"Thieves ought to be discovered, Lizzie, for the good of the community." - -"I don't care for the community. What has the community ever done for me? -And now I have something else to tell you. Ever so many people came -yesterday as well as that wretched policeman. Dear Lady Glencora was here -again." - -"They'll make a Radical of you among them, Lizzie." - -"I don't care a bit about that. I'd just as soon be a Radical as a stupid -old Conservative. Lady Glencora has been most kind, and she brought me the -dearest message from the Duke of Omnium. The duke had heard how ill I had -been treated." - -"The duke is doting." - -"It is so easy to say that when a man is old. I don't think you know him, -Frank." - -"Not in the least; nor do I wish." - -"It is something to have the sympathy of men high placed in the world. And -as to Lady Glencora, I do love her dearly. She just comes up to my beau -ideal of what a woman should be--disinterested, full of spirit, -affectionate, with a dash of romance about her." - -"A great dash of romance, I fancy." - -"And a determination to be something in the world. Lady Glencora Palliser -is something." - -"She is awfully rich, Lizzie." - -"I suppose so. At any rate, that is no disgrace. And then, Frank, somebody -else came." - -"Lord Fawn was to have come." - -"He did come." - -"And how did it go between you?" - -"Ah, that will be so difficult to explain. I wish you had been behind the -curtain to hear it all. It is so necessary that you should know, and yet -it is so hard to tell. I spoke up to him, and was quite high-spirited." - -"I dare say you were." - -"I told him out bravely of all the wrong he had done me. I did not sit and -whimper, I can assure you. Then he talked about you--of your attentions." - -Frank Greystock, of course, remembered the scene among the rocks, and Mr. -Gowran's wagging head and watchful eyes. At the time he had felt certain -that some use would be made of Andy's vigilance, though he had not traced -the connection between the man and Mrs. Hittaway. If Lord Fawn had heard -of the little scene, there might doubtless be cause for him to talk of -"attentions" "What did it matter to him?" asked Frank. "He is an insolent -ass--as I have told him once, and shall have to tell him again." - -"I think it did matter, Frank." - -"I don't see it a bit. He had resigned his rights--whatever they were." - -"But I had not accepted his resignation--as they say in the newspapers-- -nor have I now." - -"You would still marry him?" - -"I don't say that, Frank. This is an important business, and let us go -through it steadily. I would certainly like to have him again at my feet. -Whether I would deign to lift him up again is another thing. Is not that -natural, after what he has done to me?" - -"Woman's nature." - -"And I am a woman. Yes, Frank. I would have him again at my disposal--and -he is so. He is to write me a long letter; so like a Government-man--isn't -it? And he has told me already what he is to put in the letter. They -always do, you know. He is to say that he'll marry me if I choose." - -"He has promised to say that?" - -"When he said that he would come, I made up my mind that he should not go -out of the house till he had promised that. He couldn't get out of it. -What had I done?" Frank thought of the scene among the rocks. He did not, -of course, allude to it, but Lizzie was not so reticent. "As to what that -old rogue saw down in Scotland, I don't care a bit about it, Frank. He has -been up in London, and telling them all, no doubt. Nasty, dirty -eavesdropper! But what does it come to? Psha! When he mentioned your name -I silenced him at once. What could I have done, unless I had had some -friend? At any rate, he is to ask me again in writing--and then what shall -I say?" - -"You must consult your own heart." - -"No, Frank; I need not do that. Why do you say so?" - -"I know not what else to say." - -"A woman can marry without consulting her heart. Women do so every day. -This man is a lord, and has a position. No doubt I despise him thoroughly ---utterly. I don't hate him, because he is not worth being hated." - -"And yet you would marry him?" - -"I have not said so. I will tell you this truth, though perhaps you will -say it is not feminine. I would fain marry some one. To be as I have been -for the last two years is not a happy condition." - -"I would not marry a man I despised." - -"Nor would I--willingly. He is honest and respectable; and in spite of all -that has come and gone would, I think, behave well to a woman when she was -once his wife. Of course, I would prefer to marry a man that I could love. -But if that is impossible, Frank----" - -"I thought that you had determined that you would have nothing to do with -this lord." - -"I thought so too. Frank, you have known all that I have thought, and all -that I have wished. You talk to me of marrying where my heart has been -given. Is it possible that I should do so?" - -"How am I to say?" - -"Come, Frank, be true with me. I am forcing myself to speak truth to you. -I think that between you and me, at any rate, there should be no words -spoken that are not true. Frank, you know where my heart is." As she said -this she stood over him and laid her hand upon his shoulder. "Will you -answer me one question?" - -"If I can, I will." - -"Are you engaged to marry Lucy Morris?" - -"I am." - -"And you intend to marry her?" To this question he made no immediate -answer. "We are old enough now, Frank, to know that something more than -what you call heart is wanted to make us happy when we marry. I will say -nothing hard of Lucy, though she be my rival." - -"You can say nothing hard of her. She is perfect." - -"We will let that pass, though it is hardly kind of you, just at the -present moment. Let her be perfect. Can you marry this perfection without -a sixpence--you that are in debt, and who never could save a sixpence in -your life? Would it be for her good--or for yours? You have done a foolish -thing, sir, and you know that you must get out of it." - -"I know nothing of the kind." - -"You cannot marry Lucy Morris. That is the truth. My present need makes me -bold. Frank, shall I be your wife? Such a marriage will not be without -love, at any rate on one side, though there be utter indifference on the -other." - -"You know I am not indifferent to you," said he, with wicked weakness. - -"Now at any rate," she continued, "you must understand what must be my -answer to Lord Fawn. It is you that must answer Lord Fawn. If my heart is -to be broken, I may as well break it under his roof as another." - -"I have no roof to offer you," he said. "But I have one for you." she -said, throwing her arm round his neck. He bore her embrace for a minute, -returning it with the pressure of his arm; and then, escaping from it, -seized his hat and left her standing in the room. - - - - -CHAPTER LXIII - -THE CORSAIR IS AFRAID - - -On the following morning--Monday morning--there appeared in one of the -daily newspapers the paragraph of which Lady Linlithgow had spoken to Lucy -Morris. "We are given to understand"--newspapers are very frequently given -to understand--"that a man well-known to the London police as an -accomplished housebreaker has been arrested in reference to the robbery -which was effected on the 30th of January last at Lady Eustace's house in -Hertford Street. No doubt the same person was concerned in the robbery of -her ladyship's jewels at Carlisle on the night of the 8th of January. The -mystery which has so long enveloped these two affairs, and which has been -so discreditable to the metropolitan police, will now probably be cleared -up." There was not a word about Patience Crabstick in this; and, as Lizzie -observed, the news brought by the policeman on Saturday night referred -only to Patience, and said nothing of the arrest of any burglar. The -ladies in Hertford street scanned the sentence with the greatest care, and -Mrs. Carbuncle was very angry because the house was said to be Lizzie's -house. - -"It wasn't my doing," said Lizzie. - -"The policeman came to you about it." - -"I didn't say a word to the man, and I didn't want him to come." - -"I hope it will be all found out now," said Lucinda. - -"I wish it were all clean forgotten," said Lizzie. - -"It ought to be found out," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "But the police should be -more careful in what they say. I suppose we shall all have to go before -the magistrates again." - -Poor Lizzie felt that fresh trouble was certainly coming upon her. She had -learned now that the crime for which she might be prosecuted and punished -was that of perjury, that even if everything was known, she could not be -accused of stealing, and that if she could only get out of the way till -the wrath of the magistrate and policemen should have evaporated, she -might possibly escape altogether. At any rate, they could not take her -income away from her. But how could she get out of the way, and how could -she endure to be cross-examined, and looked at, and inquired into, by all -those who would be concerned in the matter? She thought that, if only she -could have arranged her matrimonial affairs before the bad day came upon -her, she could have endured it better. If she might be allowed to see Lord -George, she could ask for advice--could ask for advice, not as she was -always forced to do from her cousin, on a false statement of facts, but -with everything known and declared. - -On that very day Lord George came to Hertford Street. He had been there -more than once, perhaps half a dozen times, since the robbery; but on all -these occasions Lizzie had been in bed, and he had declined to visit her -in her chamber. In fact, even Lord George had become somewhat afraid of -her since he had been told the true story as to the necklace at Carlisle. -That story he had heard from herself, and he had also heard from Mr. -Benjamin some other little details as to her former life. Mr. Benjamin, -whose very close attention had been drawn to the Eustace diamonds, had -told Lord George how he had valued them at her ladyship's request, and had -caused an iron case to be made for them, and how her ladyship had on one -occasion endeavoured to sell the necklace to him. Mr. Benjamin, who -certainly was intimate with Lord George, was very fond of talking about -the diamonds, and had once suggested to his lordship that, were they to -become his lordship's by marriage, he, Benjamin, might be willing to treat -with his lordship. In regard to treating with her ladyship, Mr. Benjamin -acknowledged that he thought it would be too hazardous. Then came the -robbery of the box, and Lord George was all astray. Mr. Benjamin was for a -while equally astray, but neither friend believed in the other friend's -innocence. That Lord George should suspect Mr. Benjamin was quite natural. -Mr. Benjamin hardly knew what to think; hardly gave Lord George credit for -the necessary courage, skill, and energy. But at last, as he began to put -two and two together, he divined the truth, and was enabled to set the -docile Patience on the watch over her mistress's belongings. So it had -been with Mr. Benjamin, who at last was able to satisfy Mr. Smiler and Mr. -Cann that he had been no party to their cruel disappointment at Carlisle. -How Lord George had learned the truth has been told; the truth as to -Lizzie's hiding the necklace under her pillow and bringing it up to London -in her desk. But of the facts of the second robbery he knew nothing up to -this morning. He almost suspected that Lizzie had herself again been at -work, and he was afraid of her. He had promised her that he would take -care of her, had perhaps said enough to make her believe that some day he -would marry her. He hardly remembered what he had said; but he was afraid -of her. She was so wonderfully clever that, if he did not take care, she -would get him into some mess from which he would be unable to extricate -himself. - -He had never whispered her secret to any one; and had still been at a loss -about the second robbery, when he too saw the paragraph in the newspaper. -He went direct to Scotland Yard and made inquiry there. His name had been -so often used in the affair, that such inquiry from him was justified. - -"Well, my lord; yes; we have found out something," said Bunfit. "Mr. -Benjamin is off, you know." - -"Benjamin off?" - -"Cut the painter, my lord, and started. But what's the good, now we has -the wires?" - -"And who were the thieves?" - -"Ah, my lord, that's telling. Perhaps I don't know. Perhaps I do. Perhaps -two or three of us knows. You'll hear all in good time, my lord." Mr. -Bunfit wished to appear communicative because he knew but little himself. -Gager, in the meanest possible manner, had kept the matter very close; but -the fact that Mr. Benjamin had started suddenly on foreign travel had -become known to Mr. Bunfit. - -Lord George had been very careful, asking no question about the necklace; -no question which would have shown that he knew that the necklace had been -in Hertford Street when the robbery took place there; but it seemed to him -now that the police must be aware that it was so. The arrest had been made -because of the robbery in Hertford Street, and because of that arrest Mr. -Benjamin had taken his departure. Mr. Benjamin was too big a man to have -concerned himself deeply in the smaller matters which had then been -stolen. - -From Scotland Yard Lord George went direct to Hertford Street. He was in -want of money, in want of a settled home, in want of a future income, and -altogether unsatisfied with his present mode of life. Lizzie Eustace, no -doubt, would take him, unless she had told her secret to some other lover. -To have his wife, immediately on her marriage, or even before it, -arraigned for perjury, would not be pleasant. There was very much in the -whole affair of which he would not be proud as he led his bride to the -altar; but a man does not expect to get four thousand pounds a year for -nothing. Lord George, at any rate, did not conceive himself to be in a -position to do so. Had there not been something crooked about Lizzie, a -screw loose, as people say, she would never have been within his reach. -There are men who always ride lame horses, and yet see as much of the -hunting as others. Lord George, when he had begun to think that, after the -tale which he had forced her to tell him, she had caused the diamonds to -be stolen by her own maid out of her own desk, became almost afraid of -her. But now, as he looked at the matter again and again, he believed that -the second robbery had been genuine. He did not quite make up his mind, -but he went to Hertford Street resolved to see her. - -He asked for her, and was shown at once into her own sitting^ room. "So -you have come at last," she said. - -"Yes; I've come at last. It would not have done for me to come up to you -when you were in bed. Those women downstairs would have talked about it -everywhere." - -"I suppose they would," said Lizzie almost piteously. - -"It wouldn't have been at all wise after all that has been said. People -would have been sure to suspect that I had got the things out of your -desk." - -"Oh, no; not that." - -"I wasn't going to run the risk, my dear." His manner to her was anything -but civil, anything but complimentary. If this was his Corsair humour, she -was not sure that a Corsair might be agreeable to her. "And now tell me -what you know about this second robbery." - -"I know nothing, Lord George." - -"Oh, yes, you do. You know something. You know, at any rate, that the -diamonds were there." - -"Yes; I know that." - -"And that they were taken?" - -"Of course they were taken." - -"You are sure of that?" There was something in his manner absolutely -insolent to her. Frank was affectionate, and even Lord Fawn treated her -with deference. "Because, you know, you have been very clever. To tell you -the truth, I did not think at first that they had been really stolen. It -might, you know, have been a little game to get them out of your own -hands, between you and your maid." - -"I don't know what you take me for, Lord George." - -"I take you for a lady who for a long time got the better of the police -and the magistrates, and who managed to shift all the trouble off your own -shoulders on to those of other people. You have heard that they have taken -one of the thieves?" - -"And they have got the girl." - -"Have they? I didn't know that. That scoundrel Benjamin has levanted too." - -"Levanted!" said Lizzie, raising both her hands. - -"Not an hour too soon, my lady. And now what do you mean to do?" - -"What ought I to do?" - -"Of course the whole truth will come out." - -"Must it come out?" - -"Not a doubt of that. How can it be helped?" - -"You won't tell. You promised that you would not." - -"Psha; promised! If they put me in a witness-box of course I must tell. -When you come to this kind of work, promises don't go for much. I don't -know that they ever do. What is a broken promise?" - -"It's a story," said Lizzie, in innocent amazement. - -"And what was it you told when you were upon your oath at Carlisle; and -again when the magistrate came here?" - -"Oh, Lord George; how unkind you are to me!" - -"Patience Crabstick will tell it all, without any help from me. Don't you -see that the whole thing must be known? She'll say where the diamonds were -found; and how did they come there, if you didn't put them there? As for -telling, there'll be telling enough. You've only two things to do." - -"What are they, Lord George?" - -"Go off, like Mr. Benjamin; or else make a clean breast of it. Send for -John Eustace and tell him the whole. For his brother's sake he'll make the -best of it. It will all be published, and then perhaps there will be an -end of it." - -"I couldn't do that, Lord George," said Lizzie, bursting into tears. - -"You ask me, and I can only tell you what I think. That you should be able -to keep the history of the diamonds a secret, does not seem to me to be -upon the cards. No doubt people who are rich, and are connected with rich -people, and have great friends--who are what the world call swells--have -great advantages over their inferiors when they get into trouble. You are -the widow of a baronet, and you have an uncle a bishop, and another a -dean, and a countess for an aunt. You have a brother-in-law and a first- -cousin in Parliament, and your father was an admiral. The other day you -were engaged to marry a peer." - -"Oh yes," said Lizzie, "and Lady Glencora Palliser is my particular -friend." - -"She is; is she? So much the better. Lady Glencora, no doubt, is a very -swell among swells." - -"The Duke of Omnium would do anything for me," said Lizzie with -enthusiasm. - -"If you were nobody, you would of course be indicted for perjury, and -would go to prison. As it is, if you will tell all your story to one of -your swell friends, I think it very likely that you may be pulled through. -I should say that Mr. Eustace, or your cousin Greystock, would be the -best." - -"Why couldn't you do it? You know it all. I told you because--because-- -because I thought you would be the kindest to me." - -"You told me, my dear, because you thought it would not matter much with -me, and I appreciate the compliment. I can do nothing for you. I am not -near enough to those who wear wigs." - -Lizzie did not above half understand him--did not at all understand him -when he spoke of those who wore wigs, and was quite dark to his irony -about her great friends--but she did perceive that he was in earnest in -recommending her to confess. She thought about it for a moment in silence, -and the more she thought the more she felt that she could not do it. Had -he not suggested a second alternative--that she should go off, like Mr. -Benjamin? It might be possible that she should go off, and yet be not -quite like Mr. Benjamin. In that case ought she not to go under the -protection of her Corsair? Would not that be the proper way of going? - -"Might I not go abroad, just for a time?" she asked. - -"And so let it blow over?" - -"Just so, you know." - -"It is possible that you might," he said. "Not that it would blow over -altogether. Everybody would know it. It is too late now to stop the -police, and if you meant to be off you should be off at once--to-day or -to-morrow." - -"Oh, dear!" - -"Indeed, there's no saying whether they will let you go. You could start -now, this moment; and if you were at Dover could get over to France. But -when once it is known that you had the necklace all that time in your own -desk, any magistrate, I imagine, could stop you. You'd better have some -lawyer you can trust; not that blackguard Mopus." - -Lord George had certainly brought her no comfort. When he told her that -she might go at once if she chose, she remembered, with a pang of agony, -that she had already overdrawn her account at the bankers. She was the -actual possessor of an income of four thousand pounds a year, and now, in -her terrible strait, she could not stir because she had no money with -which to travel. Had all things been well with her, she could, no doubt, -have gone to her bankers and have arranged this little difficulty. But as -it was she could not move, because her purse was empty. - -Lord George sat looking at her and thinking whether he would make the -plunge and ask her to be his wife, with all her impediments and drawbacks -about her. He had been careful to reduce her to such a condition of -despair that she would undoubtedly have accepted him so that she might -have some one to lean upon in her trouble; but as he looked at her he -doubted. She was such a mass of deceit that he was afraid of her. She -might say that she would marry him, and then, when the storm was over, -refuse to keep her word. She might be in debt almost to any amount. She -might be already married for anything that he knew. He did know that she -was subject to all manner of penalties for what she had done. He looked at -her and told himself that she was very pretty. But in spite of her beauty -his judgment went against her. He did not dare to share his--even his-- -boat with so dangerous a fellow-passenger. - -"That's my advice," he said, getting up from his chair, - -"Are you going?" - -"Well; yes; I don't know what else I can do for you." - -"You are so unkind." He shrugged his shoulders, just touched her hand, and -left the room without saying another word to her. - - - - -CHAPTER LXIV - -LIZZIE'S LAST SCHEME - - -Lizzie, when she was left alone, was very angry with the Corsair--in truth -more sincerely angry that she had ever been with any of her lovers, or -perhaps with any human being. Sincere, true, burning wrath was not the -fault to which she was most exposed. She could snap and snarl and hate, -and say severe things. She could quarrel, and fight, and be malicious. But -to be full of real wrath was uncommon with her. Now she was angry. She had -been civil, more than civil, to Lord George. She had opened her house to -him and her heart. She had told him her great secret. She had implored his -protection. She had thrown herself into his arms. And now he had rejected -her. That he should have been rough to her was only in accordance with the -poetical attributes which she had attributed to him. But his roughness -should have been streaked with tenderness. He should not have left her -roughly. In the whole interview he had not said a loving word to her. He -had given her advice--which might be good or bad--but he had given it as -to one whom he despised. He had spoken to her throughout the interview -exactly as he might have spoken to Sir Griffin Tewett. She could not -analyse her feelings thoroughly, but she felt that because of what had -passed between them, by reason of his knowledge of her secret, he had -robbed her of all that observance which was due to her as a woman and a -lady. She had been roughly used before, by people of inferior rank who had -seen through her ways. Andrew Gowran had insulted her. Patience Crabstick -had argued with her. Benjamin, the employer of thieves, had been familiar -with her. But hitherto, in what she was pleased to call her own set, she -had always been treated with that courtesy which ladies seldom fail to -receive. She understood it all. She knew how much of mere word-service -there often is in such complimentary usage. But, nevertheless, it implies -respect and an acknowledgment of the position of her who is so respected. -Lord George had treated her as one schoolboy treats another. - -And he had not spoken to her one word of love. Love will excuse roughness. -Spoken love will palliate even spoken roughness. Had he once called her -his own Lizzie, he might have scolded her as he pleased--might have abused -her to the top of his bent. But as there had been nothing of the manner of -a gentleman to a lady, so also had there been nothing of the lover to his -mistress. That dream was over. Lord George was no longer a Corsair, but a -brute. - -But what should she do? Even a brute may speak truth. She was to have gone -to a theatre that evening with Mrs. Carbuncle, but she stayed at home -thinking over her position. She heard nothing throughout the day from the -police; and she made up her mind that, unless she were stopped by the -police, she would go to Scotland on the day but one following. She thought -that she was sure that she would do so; but of course she must be guided -by events as they occurred. She wrote, however, to Miss Macnulty saying -that she would come, and she told Mrs. Carbuncle of her proposed journey -as that lady was leaving the house for the theatre. On the following -morning, however, news came which again made her journey doubtful. There -was another paragraph in the newspaper about the robbery, acknowledging -the former paragraph to have been in some respect erroneous. "The -accomplished housebreaker" had not been arrested. A confederate of the -"accomplished housebreaker" was in the hands of the police, and the police -were on the track of the "accomplished housebreaker" himself. Then there -was a line or two alluding in a very mysterious way to the disappearance -of a certain jeweller. Taking it altogether, Lizzie thought that there was -ground for hope, and that at any rate there would be delay. She would -perhaps put off going to Scotland for yet a day or two. Was it not -necessary that she should wait for Lord Fawn's answer; and would it not be -incumbent on her cousin Frank to send her some account of himself after -the abrupt manner in which he had left her? - -If in real truth she should be driven to tell her story to any one, and -she began to think that she was so driven, she would tell it to him. She -believed more in his regard for her than that of any other human being. -She thought that he would in truth have been devoted to her, had he not -become entangled with that wretched little governess. And she thought that -if he could see his way out of that scrape, he would marry her even yet; -would marry her, and be good to her, so that her dream of a poetical phase -of life should not be altogether dissolved. After all, the diamonds were -her own. She had not stolen them. When perplexed in the extreme by -magistrates and policemen, with nobody near her whom she trusted to give -her advice--for Lizzie now of course declared to herself that she had -never for a moment trusted the Corsair--she had fallen into an error, and -said what was not true. As she practised it before the glass, she thought -that she could tell her story in a becoming manner, with becoming tears, -to Frank Greystock. And were it not for Lucy Morris, she thought that he -would take her with all her faults and all her burdens. - -As for Lord Fawn, she knew well enough that, let him write what he would, -and renew his engagement in what most formal manner might be possible, he -would be off again when he learned the facts as to that night at Carlisle. -She had brought him to succumb, because he could no longer justify his -treatment of her by reference to the diamonds. But when once all the world -should know that she had twice perjured herself, his justification would -be complete and his escape would be certain. She would use his letter -simply to achieve that revenge which she had promised herself. Her effort ---her last final effort--must be made to secure the hand and heart of her -cousin Frank. "Ah, 'tis his heart I want," she said to herself. - -She must settle something before she went to Scotland, if there was -anything that could be settled. If she could only get a promise from Frank -before all her treachery had been exposed, he probably would remain true -to his promise. He would not desert her as Lord Fawn had done. Then, after -much thinking of it, she resolved upon a scheme which, of all her schemes, -was the wickedest. Whatever it might cost her, she would create a -separation between Frank Greystock and Lucy Morris. Having determined upon -this, she wrote to Lucy, asking her to call in Hertford Street at a -certain hour. - -"DEAR LUCY: I particularly want to see you, on business. Pray come to me -at twelve to-morrow. I will send the carriage for you, and it will take -you back again. Pray do this. We used to love one another, and I am sure I -love you still. "Your affectionate old friend, - -"LIZZIE." - -As a matter of course, Lucy went to her. Lizzie, before the interview, -studied the part she was to play with all possible care, even to the words -which she was to use. The greeting was at first kindly, for Lucy had -almost forgotten the bribe that had been offered to her, and had quite -forgiven it. Lizzie Eustace never could be dear to her; but, so Lucy had -thought during her happiness, this former friend of hers was the cousin of -the man who was to be her husband, and was dear to him. Of course she had -forgiven the offence. "And now, dear, I want to ask you a question," -Lizzie said; "or rather, perhaps not a question. I can do it better than -that. I think that my cousin Frank once talked of--of making you his -wife." Lucy answered not a word, but she trembled in every limb, and the -colour came to her face. "Was it not so, dear?" - -"What if it was? I don't know why you should ask me any question like that -about myself." - -"Is he not my cousin?" - -"Yes, he is your cousin. Why don't you ask him? You see him every day, I -suppose?" - -"Nearly every day." - -"Why do you send for me, then?" - -"It is so hard to tell you, Lucy. I have sent to you in good faith, and in -love. I could have gone to you, only for the old vulture, who would not -have let us had a word in peace. I do see him, constantly. And I love him -dearly." - -"That is nothing to me," said Lucy. Anybody hearing them, and not knowing -them, would have said that Lucy's manner was harsh in the extreme. - -"He has told me everything." Lizzie, when she said this, paused, looking -at her victim. "He has told me things which he could not mention to you. -It was only yesterday--the day before yesterday--that he was speaking to -me of his debts. I offered to place all that I have at his disposal, so as -to free him, but he would not take my money." - -"Of course he would not." - -"Not my money alone. Then he told me that he was engaged to you. He had -never told me before, but yet I knew it. It all came out then. Lucy, -though he is engaged to you, it is me that he loves." - -"I don't believe it," said Lucy. - -"You can't make me angry, Lucy, because my heart bleeds for you." - -"Nonsense! trash! I don't want your heart to bleed. I don't believe you've -got a heart. You've got money; I know that." - -"And he has got none. If I did not love him, why should I wish to give him -all that I have? Is not that disinterested?" - -"No. You are always thinking of yourself. You couldn't be disinterested." - -"And of whom are you thinking? Are you doing the best for him--a man in -his position, without money, ambitious, sure to succeed, if want of money -does not stop him--in wishing him to marry a girl with nothing? Cannot I -do more for him than you can?" - -"I could work for him on my knees, I love him so truly." - -"Would that do him any service? He cannot marry you. Does he ever see you? -Does he write to you as though you were to be his wife? Do you not know -that it is all over?--that it must be over? It is impossible that he -should marry you. But if you will give him back his word, he shall be my -husband, and shall have all that I possess. Now, let us see who loves him -best." - -"I do," said Lucy. - -"How will you show it?" - -"There is no need that I should show it. He knows it. The only one in the -world to whom I wish it to be known, knows it already well enough. Did you -send to me for this?" - -"Yes--for this." - -"It is for him to tell me the tidings--not for you. You are nothing to me ---nothing. And what you say to me now is all for yourself--not for him. -But it is true that he does not see me. It is true that he does not write -to me. You may tell him from me--for I cannot write to him myself--that he -may do whatever is best for him. But if you tell him that I do not love -him better than all the world, you will lie to him. And if you say that he -loves you better than he does me, that also will be a lie. I know his -heart." - -"But, Lucy--" - -"I will hear no more. He can do as he pleases. If money be more to him -than love and honesty, let him marry you. I shall never trouble him; he -may be sure of that. As for you, Lizzie, I hope that we may never meet -again." - -She would not get into the Eustace-Carbuncle carriage, which was waiting -for her at the door, but walked back to Bruton Street. She did not doubt -but that it was all over with her now. That Lizzie Eustace was an -inveterate liar, she knew well; but she did believe that the liar had on -this occasion been speaking truth. Lady Fawn was not a liar, and Lady Fawn -had told her the same. And, had she wanted more evidence, did not her -lover's conduct give it? "It is because I am poor," she said to herself-- -"for I know well that he loves me." - - - - -CHAPTER LXV - -TRIBUTE - - -Lizzie put off her journey to Scotland from day to day, though her cousin -Frank continually urged upon her the expediency of going. There were -various reasons, he said, why she should go. Her child was there, and it -was proper that she should be with her child. She was living at present -with people whose reputation did not stand high, and as to whom all manner -of evil reports were flying about the town. It was generally thought--so -said Frank--that that Lord George de Bruce Carruthers had assisted Mr. -Benjamin in stealing the diamonds, and Frank himself did not hesitate to -express his belief in the accusation. - -"Oh no, that cannot be," said Lizzie, trembling. But, though she rejected -the supposition, she did not reject it very firmly. "And then, you know," -continued Lizzie, "I never see him. I have actually only set eyes on him -once since the second robbery, and then just for a minute. Of course I -used to know him--down at Portray--but now we are strangers." Frank went -on with his objections. He declared that the manner in which Mrs. -Carbuncle had got up the match between Lucinda Roanoke and Sir Griffin was -shameful--all the world was declaring that it was shameful--that she had -not a penny, that the girl was an adventurer, and that Sir Griffin was an -obstinate, pig-headed, ruined idiot. It was expedient on every account -that Lizzie should take herself away from that "lot." The answer that -Lizzie desired to make was very simple. Let me go as your betrothed bride, -and I will start to-morrow to Scotland or elsewhere, as you may direct. -Let that little affair be settled, and I shall be quite as willing to get -out of London as you can be to send me. But I am in such a peck of -troubles that something must be settled. And as it seems that after all -the police are still astray about the necklace, perhaps I needn't run away -from them for a little while even yet. She did not say this. She did not -even in so many words make the first proposition. But she did endeavour to -make Frank understand that she would obey his dictation if he would earn -the right to dictate. He either did not or would not understand her, and -then she became angry with him or pretended to be angry. - -"Really, Frank," she said, "you are hardly fair to me." - -"In what way am I unfair?" - -"You come here and abuse all my friends, and tell me to go here and go -there, just as though I were a child. And--and--and--" - -"And what, Lizzie?" - -"You know what I mean. You are one thing one day, and one another. I hope -Miss Lucy Morris was quite well when you last heard from her?" - -"You have no right to speak to me of Lucy--at least, not in -disparagement." - -"You are treating her very badly--you know that." - -"I am." - -"Then why don't you give it up? Why don't you let her have her chances--to -do what she can with them? You know very well that you can't marry her. -You know that you ought not to have asked her. You talk of Miss Roanoke -and Sir Griffin Tewett. There are people quite as bad as Sir Griffin, or -Mrs. Carbuncle either. Don't suppose I am speaking for myself. I've given -up all that idle fancy long ago. I shall never marry a second time myself. -I have made up my mind to that. I have suffered too much already." Then -she burst into tears. - -He dried her tears and comforted her, and forgave all the injurious things -she had said of him. It is almost impossible for a man--a man under forty -and unmarried, and who is not a philosopher--to have familiar and -affectionate intercourse with a beautiful young woman, and carry it on as -he might do with a friend of the other sex. In his very heart Greystock -despised this woman; he had told himself over and over again that were -there no Lucy in the case he would not marry her; that she was affected, -unreal--and in fact a liar in every word and look and motion which came -from her with premeditation. Judging, not from her own account, but from -circumstances as he saw them, and such evidence as had reached him, he did -not condemn her in reference to the diamonds. He had never for a moment -conceived that she had secreted them. He acquitted her altogether from -those special charges which had been widely circulated against her; but -nevertheless he knew her to be heartless and bad. He had told himself a -dozen times that it would be well for him that she should be married and -taken out of his hands. And yet he loved her after a fashion, and was -prone to sit near her, and was fool enough to be flattered by her -caresses. When she would lay her hand on his arm, a thrill of pleasure -went through him. And yet he would willingly have seen any decent man take -her and marry her, making a bargain that he should never see her again. -Young or old, men are apt to become Merlins when they encounter Viviens. -On this occasion he left her, disgusted indeed, but not having told her -that he was disgusted. "Come again, Frank, to-morrow, won't you?" she -said. He made her no promise as he went, nor had she expected it. He had -left her quite abruptly the other day, and he now went away almost in the -same fashion. But she was not surprised. She understood that the task she -had in hand was one very difficult to be accomplished--and she did -perceive in some dark way that, good as her acting was, it was not quite -good enough. Lucy held her ground because she was real. You may knock -about a diamond and not even scratch it, whereas paste in rough usage -betrays itself. Lizzie, with all her self-assuring protestations, knew -that she was paste, and knew that Lucy was real stone. Why could she not -force herself to act a little better, so that the paste might be as good -as the stone--might at least seem to be as good? "If he despises me now, -what will he say when he finds it all out?" she asked herself. - -As for Frank Greystock himself, though he had quite made up his mind about -Lizzie Eustace, he was still in doubt about the other girl. At the present -moment he was making over two thousand pounds a year, and yet was more in -debt now than he had been a year ago. When he attempted to look at his -affairs, he could not even remember what had become of his money. He did -not gamble. He had no little yacht, costing him about six hundred a year. -He kept one horse in London, and one only. He had no house. And when he -could spare time from his work, he was generally entertained at the houses -of his friends. And yet from day to day his condition seemed to become -worse and worse. It was true that he never thought of half-a-sovereign; -that in calling for wine at his club he was never influenced by the cost; -that it seemed to him quite rational to keep a cab waiting for him half -the day, that in going or coming he never calculated expense, that in -giving an order to a tailor he never dreamed of anything beyond his own -comfort. Nevertheless, when he recounted with pride his great economies, -reminding himself that he, a successful man, with a large income and no -family, kept neither hunters, nor yacht, nor moor, and that he did not -gamble, he did think it very hard that he should be embarrassed. But he -was embarrassed, and in that condition could it be right for him to marry -a girl without a shilling? - -In these days Mrs. Carbuncle was very urgent with her friend not to leave -London till after the marriage. Lizzie had given no promise, had only been -induced to promise that the loan of one hundred and fifty pounds should -not be held to have any bearing on the wedding present to be made to -Lucinda. That could be got on credit from Messrs. Harter & Benjamin; for -though Mr. Benjamin was absent--on a little tour through Europe in search -of precious stones in the cheap markets old Mr. Harter suggested--the -business went on the same as ever. There was a good deal of consultation -about the present, and Mrs. Carbuncle at last decided, no doubt with the -concurrence of Miss Roanoke, that it should consist simply of silver forks -and spoons--real silver as far as the money would go. Mrs. Carbuncle -herself went with her friend to select the articles--as to which perhaps -we shall do her no injustice in saying that a ready sale, should such a -lamentable occurrence ever become necessary, was one of the objects which -she had in view. Mrs. Carbuncle's investigations as to the quality of the -metal quite won Mr. Harter's respect; and it will probably be thought that -she exacted no more than justice--seeing that the thing had become a -matter of bargain--in demanding that the thirty-five pounds should be -stretched to fifty, because the things were bought on long credit. "My -dear Lizzie," Mrs. Carbuncle said, "the dear girl won't have an ounce more -than she would have got, had you gone into another sort of shop with -thirty-five sovereigns in your hand." Lizzie growled, but Mrs. Carbuncle's -final argument was conclusive. "I'll tell you what we'll do," said she; -"we'll take thirty pounds down in ready money." There was no answer to be -made to so reasonable a proposition. - -The presents to be made to Lucinda were very much thought of in Hertford -Street at this time, and Lizzie--independently of any feeling that she -might have as to her own contribution--did all she could to assist the -collection of tribute. It was quite understood that as a girl can be -married only once--for a widow's chance in such matters amounts to but -little--everything should be done to gather toll from the tax-payers of -society. It was quite fair on such an occasion that men should be given to -understand that something worth having was expected--no trumpery thirty- -shilling piece of crockery, no insignificant glass bottle, or fantastic -paper-knife of no real value whatever, but got up just to put money into -the tradesmen's hands. To one or two elderly gentlemen upon whom Mrs. -Carbuncle had smiled, she ventured to suggest in plain words that a check -was the most convenient _cadeau_. "What do you say to a couple of -sovereigns?" one sarcastic old gentleman replied, upon whom probably Mrs. -Carbuncle had not smiled enough. She laughed and congratulated her -sarcastic friend upon his joke--but the two sovereigns were left upon the -table, and went to swell the spoil. - -"You must do something handsome for Lucinda," Lizzie said to her cousin. - -"What do you call handsome?" - -"You are a bachelor and a Member of Parliament. Say fifteen pounds." - -"I'll be ---- if I do," said Frank, who was beginning to be very much -disgusted with the house in Hertford Street. "There's a five-pound note, -and you may do what you please with it." Lizzie gave over the five-pound -note--the identical bit of paper that had come from Frank; and Mrs. -Carbuncle, no doubt, did do what she pleased with it. - -There was almost a quarrel because Lizzie, after much consideration, -declared that she did not see her way to get a present from the Duke of -Omnium. She had talked so much to Mrs. Carbuncle about the duke that Mrs. -Carbuncle was almost justified in making the demand. - -"It isn't the value, you know," said Mrs. Carbuncle; "neither I nor -Lucinda would think of that; but it would look so well to have the dear -duke's name on something." Lizzie declared that the duke was -unapproachable on such subjects. "There you're wrong," said Mrs. -Carbuncle. "I happen to know there is nothing his grace likes so much as -giving wedding presents." This was the harder upon Lizzie as she actually -did succeed in saying such kind things about Lucinda that Lady Glencora -sent Miss Roanoke the prettiest smelling-bottle in the world. - -"You don't mean to say you've given a present to the future Lady Tewett?" -said Madame Max Goesler to her friend. - -"Why not? Sir Griffin can't hurt me. When one begins to be good-natured -why shouldn't one be good-natured all round?" Madame Max remarked that it -might perhaps be preferable to put an end to good-nature altogether. -"There I dare say you're right, my dear," said Lady Glencora. "I've long -felt that making presents means nothing. Only if one has a lot of money -and people like it, why shouldn't one? I've made so many to people I -hardly ever saw, that one more to Lady Tewett can't hurt." - -Perhaps the most wonderful affair in that campaign was the spirited attack -which Mrs. Carbuncle made on a certain Mrs. Hanbury Smith, who for the -last six or seven years had not been among Mrs. Carbuncle's more intimate -friends. Mrs. Hanbury Smith lived with her husband in Paris, but before -her marriage had known Mrs. Carbuncle in London. Her father, Mr. Bunbury -Jones, had from certain causes chosen to show certain civilities to Mrs. -Carbuncle just at the period of his daughter's marriage, and Mrs. -Carbuncle, being perhaps at that moment well supplied with ready money, -had presented a marriage present. From that to this present day Mrs. -Carbuncle had seen nothing of Mrs. Hanbury Smith nor of Mr. Bunbury Jones, -but she was not the woman to waste the return value of such a transaction. -A present so given was seed sown in the earth--seed, indeed, that could -not be expected to give back twenty-fold, or even ten-fold, but still seed -from which a crop should be expected. So she wrote to Mrs. Hanbury Smith -explaining that her darling niece Lucinda was about to be married to Sir -Griffin Tewett, and that, as she had no child of her own, Lucinda was the -same to her as a daughter. And then, lest there might be any want of -comprehension, she expressed her own assurance that her friend would be -glad to have an opportunity of reciprocating the feelings which had been -evinced on the occasion of her own marriage. "It is no good mincing -matters nowadays," Mrs. Carbuncle would have said, had any friend pointed -out to her that she was taking strong measures in the exaction of toll. -"People have come to understand that a spade is a spade, and £10 £10," she -would have said. Had Mrs. Hanbury Smith not noticed the application, there -might perhaps have been an end of it, but she was silly enough to send -over from Paris a little trumpery bit of finery, bought in the Palais -Royal for ten francs. Whereupon Mrs. Carbuncle wrote the following letter: - -"DEAR MRS. HANBURY SMITH: Lucinda has received your little brooch, and is -much obliged to you for thinking of her; but you must remember that when -you were married I sent you a bracelet which cost £10. If I had a daughter -of my own I should, of course, expect that she would reap the benefit of -this on her marriage, and my niece is the same to me as a daughter. I -think that this is quite understood now among people in society. Lucinda -will be disappointed much if you do not send her what she thinks she has a -right to expect. Of course you can deduct the brooch if you please. - -"Yours, very sincerely, - -"JANE CARBUNCLE." - -Mr. Hanbury Smith was something of a wag, and caused his wife to write -back as follows: - -"DEAR MRS. CARBUNCLE: I quite acknowledge the reciprocity system, but -don't think it extends to descendants, certainly not to nieces. I -acknowledge, too, the present quoted at £10. I thought it had been £7 -10_s._"--"The nasty, mean creature," said Mrs. Carbuncle, when showing the -correspondence to Lizzie, "must have been to the tradesman to inquire! The -price named was £10, but I got £2 10_s._ off for ready money."--"At your -second marriage I will do what is needful; but I can assure you I haven't -recognised nieces with any of my friends. - -"Yours, very truly, - -"CAROLINE HANBURY SMITH." - -The correspondence was carried no further, for not even can a Mrs. -Carbuncle exact payment of such a debt in any established court; but she -inveighed bitterly against the meanness of Mrs. Smith, telling the story -openly, and never feeling that she had told it against herself. In her set -it was generally thought that she had done quite right. - -She managed better with old Mr. Cabob, who had certainly received many of -Mrs. Carbuncle's smiles, and who was very rich. Mr. Cabob did as he was -desired, and sent a check--a check for £20; and added a message that he -hoped Miss Roanoke would buy with it some little thing that she liked. -Miss Roanoke, or her aunt for her, liked a thirty guinea ring, and bought -it, having the bill for the balance sent up to Mr. Cabob. Mr. Cabob, who -probably knew that he must pay well for his smiles, never said anything -about it. - -Lady Eustace went into all this work, absolutely liking it. She had felt -nothing of anger even as regarded her own contribution, much as she had -struggled to reduce the amount. People, she felt, ought to be sharp; and -it was nice to look at pretty things, and to be cunning about them. She -would have applied to the Duke of Omnium had she dared, and was very -triumphant when she got the smelling-bottle from Lady Glencora. But -Lucinda herself took no part whatever in all these things. Nothing that -Mrs. Carbuncle could say would induce her to take any interest in them, or -even in the trousseau, which, without reference to expense, was being -supplied chiefly on the very indifferent credit of Sir Griffin. What -Lucinda had to say about the matter was said solely to her aunt. Neither -Lady Eustace, nor Lord George, nor even the maid who dressed her, heard -any of her complaints. But complain she did, and that with terrible -energy. - -"What is the use of it, Aunt Jane? I shall never have a house to put them -into." - -"What nonsense, my dear! Why shouldn't you have a house as well as -others?" - -"And if I had, I should never care for them. I hate them. What does Lady -Glencora Palliser or Lord Fawn care for me?" Even Lord Fawn had been put -under requisition, and had sent a little box full of stationery. - -"They are worth money, Lucinda; and when a girl marries she always gets -them." - -"Yes; and when they come from people who love her, and who pour them into -her lap with kisses, because she has given herself to a man she loves, -then it must be nice. Oh, if I were marrying a poor man, and a poor friend -had given me a gridiron to help me to cook my husband's dinner, how I -could have valued it!" - -"I don't know that you like poor things and poor people better than -anybody else," said Aunt Jane. - -"I don't like anything or anybody," said Lucinda. - -"You had better take the good things that come to you, then; and not -grumble. How I have worked to get all this arranged for you, and now what -thanks have I?" - -"You'll find you have worked for very little, Aunt Jane. I shall never -marry the man yet." This, however, had been said so often that Aunt Jane -thought nothing of the threat. - - - - -CHAPTER LXVI - -THE ASPIRATIONS OF MR. EMILIUS - - -It was acknowledged by Mrs. Carbuncle very freely that in the matter of -tribute no one behaved better than Mr. Emilius, the fashionable, foreign, -ci-devant Jew preacher, who still drew great congregations in the -neighbourhood of Mrs. Carbuncle's house. Mrs. Carbuncle, no doubt, -attended regularly at Mr. Emilius's church, and had taken a sitting for -thirteen Sundays at something like ten shillings a Sunday. But she had not -as yet paid the money, and Mr. Emilius was well aware that if his tickets -were not paid for in advance, there would be considerable defalcations in -his income. He was, as a rule, very particular as to such payments, and -would not allow a name to be put on a sitting till the money had reached -his pockets; but with Mrs. Carbuncle he had descended to no such -commercial accuracy. Mrs. Carbuncle had seats for three--for one of which -Lady Eustace paid her share in advance--in the midst of the very best pews -in the most conspicuous part of the house, and hardly a word had been said -to her about the money. And now there came to them from Mr. Emilius the -prettiest little gold salver that ever was seen. - -"I send Messrs. Clerico's docket," wrote Mr. Emilius, "as Miss Roanoke may -like to know the quality of the metal." - -"Ah," said Mrs. Carbuncle, inspecting the little dish and putting two and -two together; "he's got it cheap, no doubt, at the place where they -commissioned him to buy the plate and candlesticks for the church; but at -£3 16s. 3d. the gold is worth nearly twenty pounds." Mr. Emilius no doubt -had had his outing in the autumn through the instrumentality of Mrs. -Carbuncle's kindness; but that was past and gone, and such lavish -gratitude for a past favour could hardly be expected from Mr. Emilius. -"I'll be hanged if he isn't after Portray Castle," said Mrs. Carbuncle to -herself. - -Poor Emilius was after Portray Castle and had been after Portray Castle in -a silent, not very confident, but yet not altogether hopeless manner ever -since he had seen the glories of that place and learned something of truth -as to the widow's income. Mrs. Carbuncle was led to her conclusion not -simply by the wedding present, but in part also by the diligence displayed -by Mr. Emilius in removing the doubts which had got abroad respecting his -condition in life. He assured Mrs. Carbuncle that he had never been -married. Shortly after his ordination, which had been effected under the -hands of that great and good man the late Bishop of Jerusalem, he had -taken to live with him a lady who was--Mrs. Carbuncle did not quite -recollect who the lady was, but remembered that she was connected in some -way with a step-mother of Mr. Emilius who lived in Bohemia. This lady had -for a while kept house for Mr. Emilius; but ill-natured things had been -said, and Mr. Emilius, having respect to his cloth, had sent the poor lady -back to Bohemia. The consequence was that he now lived in a solitude which -was absolute and, as Mr. Emilius added, somewhat melancholy. All this Mr. -Emilius explained very fully, not to Lizzie herself, but to Mrs. -Carbuncle. If Lady Eustace chose to entertain such a suitor, why should he -not come? It was nothing to Mrs. Carbuncle. - -Lizzie laughed when she was told that she might add the reverend gentleman -to the list of her admirers. - -"Don't you remember," she said, "how we used to chaff Miss Macnulty about -him?" - -"I knew better than that," replied Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"There is no saying what a man may be after," said Lizzie. "I didn't know -but what he might have thought that Macnulty's connection would increase -his congregation." - -"He's after you, my dear, and your income. He can manage a congregation -for himself." - -Lizzie was very civil to him, but it would be unjust to her to say that -she gave him any encouragement. It is quite the proper thing for a lady to -be on intimate, and even on affectionate, terms with her favourite -clergyman, and Lizzie certainly had intercourse with no clergyman who was -a greater favourite with her than Mr. Emilius. She had a dean for an -uncle, and a bishop for an uncle-in-law; but she was at no pains to hide -her contempt for these old fogies of the church. - -"They preach now and then in the cathedral," she said to Mr. Emilius, "and -everybody takes the opportunity of going to sleep." Mr. Emilius was very -much amused at this description of the eloquence of the dignitaries. It -was quite natural to him that people should go to sleep in church who take -no trouble in seeking eloquent preachers. - -"Ah," he said, "the church in England, which is my church, the church -which I love, is beautiful. She is as a maiden, all glorious with fine -raiment. But, alas, she is mute. She does not sing. She has no melody. But -the time cometh in which she shall sing. I, myself, I am a poor singer in -the great choir." In saying which Mr. Emilius no doubt intended to allude -to his eloquence as a preacher. - -He was a man who could listen as well as sing, and he was very careful to -hear well that which was being said in public about Lady Eustace and her -diamonds. He had learned thoroughly what was her condition in reference to -the Portray estate, and was rejoiced rather than otherwise to find that -she enjoyed only a life-interest in the property. Had the thing been -better than it was, it would have been the further removed from his reach. -And in the same way, when rumours reached him prejudicial to Lizzie in -respect of the diamonds, he perceived that such prejudice might work weal -for him. A gentleman once, on ordering a mackerel that would come to a -shilling, found he could have a stale mackerel for sixpence. "Then bring -me a stale mackerel," said the gentleman. Mr. Emilius coveted fish, but -was aware that his position did not justify him in expecting the best fish -in the market. The Lord Fawns and the Frank Greystocks of the world would -be less likely to covet Lizzie, should she by any little indiscretion have -placed herself under a temporary cloud. Mr. Emilius had carefully observed -the heavens, and knew how quickly such clouds will disperse themselves -when they are tinged with gold. There was nothing which Lizzie had done, -or would be likely to do, which could materially affect her income. It -might indeed be possible that the Eustaces should make her pay for the -necklace; but even in that case there would be quite enough left for that -modest, unambitious comfort which Mr. Emilius desired. It was by -preaching, and not by wealth, that he must make himself known in the -world! but for a preacher to have a pretty wife with a title and a good -income, and a castle in Scotland, what an Elysium it would be! In such a -condition he would envy no dean, no bishop, no archbishop! He thought a -great deal about it, and saw no positive bar to his success. - -She told him that she was going to Scotland. - -"Not immediately!" he exclaimed. - -"My little boy is there," she said. - -"But why should not your little boy be here? Surely for people who can -choose, the great centre of the world offers attractions which cannot be -found in secluded spots." - -"I love seclusion," said Lizzie with rapture. - -"Ah, yes; I can believe that." Mr. Emilius had himself witnessed the -seclusion of Portray Castle, and had heard, when there, many stories of -the Ayrshire hunting. "It is your nature--but, dear Lady Eustace, will you -allow me to say that our nature is implanted in us in accordance with the -Fall?" - -"Do you mean to say that it is wicked to like to be in Scotland better -than in this giddy town?" - -"I say nothing about wicked, Lady Eustace; but this I do say, that nature -alone will not lead us always aright. It is good to be at Portray part of -the year, no doubt; but are there not blessings in such a congregation of -humanity as this London which you cannot find at Portray?" - -"I can hear you preach, Mr. Emilius, certainly." - -"I hope that is something, too, Lady Eustace; otherwise a great many -people who kindly come to hear me must sadly waste their time. And your -example to the world around; is it not more serviceable amidst the crowds -of London than in the solitudes of Scotland? There is more good to be -done, Lady Eustace, by living among our fellow creatures than by deserting -them. Therefore I think you should not go to Scotland before August, but -should have your little boy brought to you here." - -"The air of his native mountains is everything to my child," said Lizzie. -The child had in fact been born at Bobsborough, but that probably would -make no real difference. - -"You cannot wonder that I should plead for your stay," said Mr. Emilius, -throwing all his soul into his eyes. "How dark would everything be to me -if I missed you from your seat in the house of praise and prayer!" - -Lizzie Eustace, like some other ladies who ought to be more appreciative, -was altogether deficient in what may perhaps be called good taste in -reference to men. Though she was clever, and though in spite of her -ignorance she at once knew an intelligent man from a fool, she did not -know the difference between a gentleman and a--"cad." It was in her -estimation something against Mr. Emilius that he was a clergyman, -something against him that he had nothing but what he earned, something -against him that he was supposed to be a renegade Jew, and that nobody -knew whence he came nor who he was. These deficiencies or drawbacks Lizzie -recognised. But it was nothing against him in her judgment that he was a -greasy, fawning, pawing, creeping, black-browed rascal, who could not look -her full in the face, and whose every word sounded like a lie. There was a -twang in his voice which ought to have told her that he was utterly -untrustworthy. There was an oily pretence at earnestness in his manner -which ought to have told that he was not fit to associate with gentlemen. -There was a foulness of demeanour about him which ought to have given to -her, as a woman at any rate brought up among ladies, an abhorrence of his -society. But all this Lizzie did not feel. She ridiculed to Mrs. Carbuncle -the idea of the preacher's courtship. She still thought that in the teeth -of all her misfortunes she could do better with herself than marry Mr. -Emilius. She conceived that the man must be impertinent if Mrs. -Carbuncle's assertion were true; but she was neither angry nor disgusted, -and she allowed him to talk to her, and even to make love to her, after -his nasty pseudo-clerical fashion. - -She could surely still do better with herself than marry Mr. Emilius! It -was now the twentieth of March, and a fortnight had gone since an -intimation had been sent to her from the headquarters of the police that -Patience Crabstick was in their hands. Nothing further had occurred, and -it might be that Patience Crabstick had told no tale against her. She -could not bring herself to believe that Patience had no tale to tell, but -it might be that Patience, though she was in the hands of the police, -would find it to her interest to tell no tale against her late mistress. -At any rate there was silence and quiet, and the affair of the diamonds -seemed almost to be passing out of people's minds. Greystock had twice -called in Scotland Yard, but had been able to learn nothing. It was -feared, they said, that the people really engaged in the robbery had got -away scot-free. Frank did not quite believe them, but he could learn -nothing from them. Thus encouraged, Lizzie determined that she would -remain in London till after Lucinda's marriage, till after she should have -received the promised letter from Lord Fawn, as to which, though it was so -long in coming, she did not doubt that it would come at last. She could do -nothing with Frank, who was a fool! She could do nothing with Lord George, -who was a brute! Lord Fawn would still be within her reach, if only the -secret about the diamonds could be kept a secret till after she should -have become his wife. - -About this time Lucinda spoke to her respecting her proposed journey. "You -were talking of going to Scotland a week ago, Lady Eustace." - -"And am still talking of it." - -"Aunt Jane says that you are waiting for my wedding. It is very kind of -you, but pray don't do that." - -"I shouldn't think of going now till after your marriage. It only wants -ten or twelve days." - -"I count them. I know how many days it wants. It may want more than that." - -"You can't put it off now, I should think," said Lizzie; "and as I have -ordered my dress for the occasion I shall certainly stay and wear it." - -"I am very sorry for your dress. I am very sorry for it all. Do you know, -I sometimes think I shall--murder him." - -"Lucinda, how can you say anything so horrible! But I see you are only -joking." There did come a ghastly smile over that beautiful face, which -was so seldom lighted up by any expression of mirth or good humour. "But I -wish you would not say such horrible things." - -"It would serve him right; and if he were to murder me that would serve me -right. He knows that I detest him, and yet he goes on with it. I have told -him so a score of times, but nothing will make him give it up. It is not -that he loves me, but he thinks that that will be his triumph." - -"Why don't you give it up if it makes you unhappy?" - -"It ought to come from him, ought it not?" - -"I don't see why," said Lizzie. - -"He is not bound to anybody as I am bound to my aunt. No one can have -exacted an oath from him. Lady Eustace, you don't quite understand how we -are situated. I wonder whether you would take the trouble to be good to -me?" - -Lucinda Roanoke had never asked a favour of her before; had never, to -Lizzie's knowledge, asked a favour of any one. "In what way can I be good -to you?" she said. - -"Make him give it up. You may tell him what you like of me. Tell him that -I shall only make him miserable, and more despicable than he is; that I -shall never be a good wife to him. Tell him that I am thoroughly bad, and -that he will repent it to the last day of his life. Say whatever you like, -but make him give it up." - -"When everything has been prepared!" - -"What does all that signify compared to a life of misery? Lady Eustace, I -really think that I should--kill him, if he were--were my husband." Lizzie -at last said that she would at any rate speak to Sir Griffin. - -And she did speak to Sir Griffin, having waited three or foui days to do -so. There had been some desperately sharp words between Sir Griffin and -Mrs. Carbuncle with reference to money. Sir Griffin had been given to -understand that Lucinda had, or would have, some few hundred pounds, and -insisted that the money should be handed over to him on the day of his -marriage. Mrs. Carbuncle had declared that the money was to come from -property to be realised in New York, and had named a day which had seemed -to Sir Griffin to be as the Greek Kalends. He expressed an opinion that he -was swindled, and Mrs. Carbuncle, unable to restrain herself, had turned -upon him full of wrath. He was caught by Lizzie as he was descending the -stairs, and in the dining-room he poured out the tale of his wrongs. "That -woman doesn't know what fair dealing means," said he. - -"That's a little hard, Sir Griffin, isn't it?" said Lizzie. - -"Not a bit. A trumpery six hundred pounds! And she hasn't a shilling of -fortune, and never will have, beyond that! No fellow ever was more -generous or more foolish than I have been." Lizzie, as she heard this, -could not refrain from thinking of the poor departed Sir Florian. "I -didn't look for fortune, or say a word about money, as almost every man -does, but just took her as she was. And now she tells me that I can't have -just the bit of money that I wanted for our tour. It would serve them both -right if I were to give it up." - -"Why don't you?" said Lizzie. He looked quickly, sharply, and closely into -her face as she asked the question. "I would, if I thought as you do." - -"And lay myself in for all manner of damages," said Sir Griffin. - -"There wouldn't be anything of that kind, I'm sure. You see the truth is, -you and Miss Roanoke are always having--having little tiffs together. I -sometimes think you don't really care a bit for her." - -"It's the old woman I'm complaining of," said Sir Griffin, "and I'm not -going to marry her. I shall have seen the last of her when I get out of -the church, Lady Eustace." - -"Do you think she wishes it?" - -"Who do you mean?" asked Sir Griffin. - -"Why--Lucinda?" - -"Of course she does. Where'd she be now if it wasn't to go on? I don't -believe they've money enough between them to pay the rent of the house -they're living in." - -"Of course I don't want to make difficulties, Sir Griffin, and no doubt -the affair has gone very far now. But I really think Lucinda would consent -to break it off if you wish it. I have never thought that you were really -in love with her." - -He again looked at her very sharply and very closely. - -"Has she sent you to say all this?" - -"Has who sent me? Mrs. Carbuncle didn't." - -"But Lucinda?" - -She paused a moment before she replied, but she could not bring herself to -be absolutely honest in the matter. "No; she didn't send me. But from what -I see and hear, I am quite sure she does not wish to go on with it." - -"Then she shall go on with it," said Sir Griffin. "I'm not going to be -made a fool of in that way. She shall go on with it, and the first thing I -mean to tell her as my wife is, that she shall never see that woman again. -If she thinks she's going to be master, she's very much mistaken." Sir -Griffin, as he said this, showed his teeth, and declared his purpose to be -masterful by his features as well as by his words; but Lady Eustace was -nevertheless of opinion that when the two came to an absolute struggle for -mastery, the lady would get the better of it. - -Lizzie never told Miss Roanoke of her want of success, or even of the -effort she had made; nor did the unhappy young woman come to her for any -reply. The preparations went on, and it was quite understood that on this -peculiar occasion Mrs. Carbuncle intended to treat her friends with -profuse hospitality. She proposed to give a breakfast; and as the house in -Hertford Street was very small, rooms had been taken at a hotel in -Albemarle Street. Thither as the day of the marriage drew near, all the -presents were taken--so that they might be viewed by the guests, with the -names of the donors attached to them. As some of the money given had been -very much wanted indeed, so that the actual checks could not conveniently -be spared just at the moment to pay for the presents which ought to have -been bought, a few very pretty things were hired, as to which, when the -donors should see their names attached to them, they should surely think -that the money given had been laid out to great advantage. - - - - -CHAPTER LXVII - -THE EYE OF THE PUBLIC - - -It took Lord Fawn a long time to write his letter, but at last he wrote -it. The delay must not be taken as throwing any slur on his character as a -correspondent or a man of business, for many irritating causes sprang up -sufficient to justify him in pleading that it arose from circumstances -beyond his own control. It is moreover felt by us all that the time which -may fairly be taken in the performance of any task depends, not on the -amount of work, but on the importance of it when done. A man is not -expected to write a check for a couple of thousand pounds as readily as he -would one for five, unless he be a man to whom a couple of thousand pounds -is a mere nothing. To Lord Fawn the writing of this letter was everything. -He had told Lizzie, with much exactness, what he would put into it. He -would again offer his hand--acknowledging himself bound to do so by his -former offer--but would give reasons why she should not accept it. If -anything should occur in the mean time which would in his opinion justify -him in again repudiating her, he would of course take advantage of such -circumstance. If asked, himself, what was his prevailing motive in all -that he did or intended to do, he would have declared that it was above -all things necessary that he should "put himself right in the eye of the -British public." - -But he was not able to do this without interference from the judgment of -others. Both Mr. and Mrs. Hittaway interfered; and he could not prevent -himself from listening to them and believing them, though he would -contradict all they said, and snub all their theories. Frank Greystock -also continued to interfere, and Lady Glencora Palliser. Even John Eustace -had been worked upon to write to Lord Fawn, stating his opinion as trustee -for his late brother's property, that the Eustace family did not think -that there was ground of complaint against Lady Eustace in reference to -the diamonds which had been stolen. This was a terrible blow to Lord Fawn, -and had come no doubt from a general agreement among the Eustace faction-- -including the bishop, John Eustace, and even Mr. Camperdown--that it would -be a good thing to get the widow married and placed under some decent -control. - -Lady Glencora absolutely had the effrontery to ask him whether the -marriage was not going to take place, and when a day would be fixed. He -gathered up his courage to give her ladyship a rebuke. "My private affairs -do seem to be uncommonly interesting," he said. - -"Why, yes, Lord Fawn," said Lady Glencora, whom nothing could abash, "most -interesting. You see, dear Lady Eustace is so very popular that we all -want to know what is to be her fate." - -"I regret to say that I cannot answer your ladyship's question with any -precision," said Lord Fawn. - -But the Hittaway persecution was by far the worst. "You have seen her, -Frederic," said his sister. - -"Yes, I have." - -"You have made her no promise?" - -"My dear Clara, this is a matter in which I must use my own judgment." - -"But the family, Frederic?" - -"I do not think that any member of our family has a just right to complain -of my conduct since I have had the honour of being its head. I have -endeavoured so to live that my actions should encounter no private or -public censure. If I fail to meet with your approbation, I shall grieve; -but I cannot on that account act otherwise than in accordance with my own -judgment." - - Mrs. Hittaway knew her brother well, and was not afraid of him. "That's -all very well; and I am sure you know, Frederic, how proud we all are of -you. But this woman is a nasty, low, scheming, ill-conducted, dishonest -little wretch; and if you make her your wife you'll be miserable all your -life. Nothing would make me and Orlando so unhappy as to quarrel with you. -But we know that it is so, and to the last minute I shall say so. Why -don't you ask her to her face about that man down in Scotland?" - -"My dear Clara, perhaps I know what to ask her and what not to ask her -better than you can tell me." - -And his brother-in-law was quite as bad. "Fawn," he said, "in this matter -of Lady Eustace, don't you think you ought to put your conduct into the -hands of some friend?" - -"What do you mean by that?" - -"I think it is an affair in which a man would have so much comfort in -being able to say that he was guided by advice. Of course her people want -you to marry her. Now if you could just tell them that the whole thing was -in the hands of--say me, or any other friend, you would be relieved, you -know, of so much responsibility. They might hammer away at me ever so long -and I shouldn't care twopence." - -"If there is to be any hammering, it cannot be borne vicariously," said -Lord Fawn, and as he said it he was quite pleased by his own sharpness and -wit. - -He had indeed put himself beyond protection by vicarious endurance of -hammering when he promised to write to Lady Eustace, explaining his own -conduct and giving reasons. Had anything turned up in Scotland Yard which -would have justified him in saying, or even in thinking, that Lizzie had -stolen her own diamonds, he would have sent word to her that he must -abstain from any communication till that matter had been cleared up; but -since the appearance of that mysterious paragraph in the newspapers -nothing had been heard of the robbery, and public opinion certainly seemed -to be in favour of Lizzie's innocence. He did think that the Eustace -faction was betraying him, as he could not but remember how eager Mr. -Camperdown had been in asserting that the widow was keeping an enormous -amount of property and claiming it as her own, whereas in truth she had -not the slightest title to it. It was, in a great measure, in consequence -of the assertions of the Eustace faction, almost in obedience to their -advice, that he had resolved to break off the match; and now they turned -upon him, and John Eustace absolutely went out of his way to write him a -letter which was clearly meant to imply that he, Lord Fawn, was bound to -marry the woman to whom he had once engaged himself! Lord Fawn felt that -he was ill-used, and that a man might have to undergo a great deal of bad -treatment who should strive to put himself right in the eye of the public. - -At last he wrote his letter--on a Wednesday, which with him had something -of the comfort of a half-holiday, as on that day he was not required to -attend Parliament. - -"INDIA OFFICE, March 28, 18--. - -"MY DEAR LADY EUSTACE: In accordance with the promise which I made to you -when I did myself the honour of waiting upon you in Hertford Street, I -take up my pen with the view of communicating to you the result of my -deliberations respecting the engagement of marriage which no doubt did -exist between us last summer. - -"Since that time I have no doubt taken upon myself to say that that -engagement was over; and I am free to admit that I did so without any -assent or agreement on your part to that effect. Such conduct no doubt -requires a valid and strong defence. My defence is as follows: - -"I learned that you were in possession of a large amount of property, -vested in diamonds, which was claimed by the executors under your late -husband's will as belonging to his estate; and as to which they declared, -in the most positive manner, that you had no right or title to it -whatever. I consulted friends and I consulted lawyers, and I was led to -the conviction that this property certainly did not belong to you. Had I -married you in these circumstances, I could not but have become a -participator in the lawsuit which I was assured would be commenced. I -could not be a participator with you, because I believed you to be in the -wrong. And I certainly could not participate with those who would in such -case be attacking my own wife. - -"In this condition of things I requested you--as you must I think yourself -own, with all deference and good feeling--to give up the actual possession -of the property, and to place the diamonds in neutral hands"--Lord Fawn -was often called upon to be neutral in reference to the condition of -outlying Indian principalities--"till the law should have decided as to -their ownership. As regards myself, I neither coveted nor rejected the -possession of that wealth for my future wife. I desired simply to be free -from an embarrassment which would have overwhelmed me. You declined my -request--not only positively, but perhaps I may add peremptorily; and then -I was bound to adhere to the decision I had communicated to you. - -"Since that time the property has been stolen and, as I believe, -dissipated. The lawsuit against you has been withdrawn; and the bone of -contention, so to say, is no longer existing. I am no longer justified in -declining to keep my engagement because of the prejudice to which I should -have been subjected by your possession of the diamonds; and therefore, as -far as that goes, I withdraw my withdrawal." This Lord Fawn thought was -rather a happy phrase, and he read it aloud to himself more than once. - -"But now there arises the question whether, in both our interests, this -marriage should go on, or whether it may not be more conducive to your -happiness and to mine that it should be annulled for causes altogether -irrespective of the diamonds. In a matter so serious as marriage, the -happiness of the two parties is that which requires graver thought than -any other consideration. - -"There has no doubt sprung up between us a feeling of mutual distrust, -which has led to recrimination, and which is hardly compatible with that -perfect confidence which should exist between a man and his wife. This -first arose no doubt from the different views which we took as to that -property of which I have spoken, and as to which your judgment may -possibly have been better than mine. On that head I will add nothing to -what I have already said; but the feeling has arisen, and I fear it cannot -be so perfectly allayed as to admit of that reciprocal trust without which -we could not live happily together. I confess that for my own part I do -not now desire a union which was once the great object of my ambition, and -that I could not go to the altar with you without fear and trembling. As -to your own feelings, you best know what they are. I bring no charge -against you; but if you have ceased to love me I think you should cease to -wish to be my wife, and that you should not insist upon a marriage simply -because by doing so you would triumph over a former objection. "Before he -finished this paragraph he thought much of Andy Gowran and of the scene -among the rocks of which he had heard. But he could not speak of it. He -had found himself unable to examine the witness who had been brought to -him, and had honestly told himself that he could not take that charge as -proved. Andy Gowran might have lied. In his heart he believed that Andy -Gowran had lied. The matter was distasteful to him, and he would not touch -it. And yet he knew that the woman did not love him, and he longed to tell -her so. - -"As to what we might each gain or each lose in a worldly point of view, -either by marrying or not marrying, I will not say a word. You have rank -and wealth, and therefore I can comfort myself by thinking that if I -dissuade you from this marriage I shall rob you of neither. I acknowledge -that I wish to dissuade you, as I believe that we should not make each -other happy. As however I do consider that I am bound to keep my -engagement to you if you demand that I shall do so, I leave the matter in -your hands for decision. I am, and shall remain, your sincere friend, - -"FAWN." - -He read the letter and copied it, and gave himself great credit for the -composition. He thought that it was impossible that any woman after -reading it should express a wish to become the wife of the man who wrote -it; and yet--so he believed, no man or woman could find fault with him for -writing it. There certainly was one view of the case which was very -distressing. How would it be with him if after all she should say that she -would marry him? After having given her her choice--having put it all in -writing--he could not again go back from it. He would be in her power, and -of what use would his life be to him? Would Parliament or the India Office -or the eye of the public be able to comfort him then in the midst of his -many miseries? What could he do with a wife whom he married with a -declaration that he disliked her? With such feelings as were his, how -could he stand before a clergyman and take an oath that he would love her -and cherish her? Would she not ever be as an adder to him--as an adder -whom it would be impossible that he should admit into his bosom? Could he -live in the same house with her; and if so, could he ask his mother and -sisters to visit her? He remembered well what Mrs. Hittaway had called -her--a nasty, low, scheming, ill-conducted, dishonest little wretch! And -he believed that she was so! Yet he was once again offering to marry her, -should she choose to accept him. - -Nevertheless, the letter was sent. There was, in truth, no alternative. He -had promised that he would write such a letter, and all that had remained -to him was the power of cramming into it every available argument against -the marriage. This he had done and, as he thought, had done well. It was -impossible that she should desire to marry him after reading such a letter -as that! - -Lizzie received it in her bedroom, where she breakfasted, and told of its -arrival to her friend Mrs. Carbuncle as soon as they met each other. "My -lord has come down from his high horse at last," she said, with the letter -in her hand. - -"What--Lord Fawn?" - -"Yes; Lord Fawn. What other lord? There is no other lord for me. He is my -lord, my peer of Parliament, my Cabinet minister, my right honourable, my -member of the Government--my young man too, as the maid-servants call -them." - -"What does he say?" - -"Say--what should he say--just that he has behaved very badly, and that he -hopes I shall forgive him." - -"Not quite that; does he?" - -"That's what it all means. Of course there is ever so much of it--pages of -it. It wouldn't be Lord Fawn if he didn't spin it all out, like an act of -Parliament, with whereas and whereis and whereof. It is full of all that; -but the meaning of it is that he's at my feet again, and that I may pick -him up if I choose to take him. I'd show you the letter, only perhaps it -wouldn't be fair to the poor man." - -"What excuse does he make?" - -"Oh--as to that he's rational enough. He calls the necklace the--bone of -contention. That's rather good for Lord Fawn; isn't it? The bone of -contention, he says, has been removed; and therefore there is no reason -why we shouldn't marry if we like it. He shall hear enough about the bone -of contention if we do 'marry.'" - -"And what shall you do now?" - -"Ah, yes; that's easily asked, is it not? The man's a good sort of man in -his way, you know. He doesn't drink or gamble, and I don't think there is -a bit of the King David about him--that I don't." - -"Virtue personified, I should say." - -"And he isn't extravagant." - -"Then why not have him and done with it?" asked Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"He is such a lumpy man," said Lizzie; "such an ass; such a load of -government waste paper." - -"Come, my dear; you've had troubles." - -"I have indeed," said Lizzie. - -"And there's no quite knowing yet how far they're over." - -"What do you mean by that, Mrs. Carbuncle?" - -"Nothing very much; but still, you see, they may come again. As to Lord -George, we all know that he has not got a penny-piece in the world that he -can call his own." - -"If he had as many pennies as Judas, Lord George would be nothing to me," -said Lizzie. - -"And your cousin really doesn't seem to mean anything." - -"I know very well what my cousin means. He and I understand each other -thoroughly; but cousins can love one another very well without marrying." - -"Of course you know your own business, but if I were you I would take Lord -Fawn. I speak in true kindness, as one woman to another. After all, what -does love signify? How much real love do we ever see among married people? -Does Lady Glencora Palliser really love her husband, who thinks of nothing -in the world but putting taxes on and off?" - -"Do you love your husband, Mrs. Carbuncle?" - -"No; but that is a different kind of thing. Circumstances have caused me -to live apart from him. The man is a good man, and there is no reason why -you should not respect him and treat him well. He will give you a fixed -position, which really you want badly, Lady Eustace." - -"Torriloo, tooriloo, tooriloo, looriloo," said Lizzie, in contemptuous -disdain of her friend's caution.. - -"And then all this trouble about the diamonds and the robberies will be -over," continued Mrs. Carbuncle. Lizzie looked at her very intently. What -should make Mrs. Carbuncle suppose that there need be, or indeed could be, -any further trouble about the diamonds? - -"So, that's your advice," said Lizzie, "I'm half inclined to take it, and -perhaps I shall. However, I have brought him round, and that's something, -my dear. And either one way or the other, I shall let him know that I like -my triumph. I was determined to have it, and I've got it." Then she read -the letter again very seriously. Could she possibly marry a man who in so -many words told her that he didn't want her? Well, she thought she could. -Was not everybody treating everybody else much in the same way? Had she -not loved her Corsair truly, and how had he treated her? Had she not been -true, disinterested, and most affectionate to Frank Greystock; and what -had she got from him? To manage her business wisely, and put herself upon -firm ground, that was her duty at present. Mrs. Carbuncle was right, -there. The very name of Lady Fawn would be a rock to her, and she wanted a -rock. She thought upon the whole that she could marry him--unless Patience -Crabstick and the police should again interfere with her prosperity. - - - - -CHAPTER LXVIII - -THE MAJOR - - -Lady Eustace did not intend to take as much time in answering Loyd Fawn's -letter as he had taken in writing it; but even she found that the subject -was one which demanded a good deal of thought. Mrs. Carbuncle had very -freely recommended her to take the man, supporting her advice by arguments -which Lizzie felt to be valid; but then Mrs. Carbuncle did not know all -the circumstances. Mrs. Carbuncle had not actually seen his lordship's -letter; and though the great part of the letter, the formal repetition, -namely, of the writer's offer of marriage, had been truly told to her, -still, as the reader will have perceived, she had been kept in the dark as -to some of the details. Lizzie did sit at her desk with the object of -putting a few words together in order that she might see how they looked, -and she found that there was a difficulty. - -"MY DEAR LORD FAWN: As we have been engaged to marry each other, and as -all our friends have been told, I think that the thing had better go on." - -That, after various attempts, was, she thought, the best letter that she -could send--if she should make up her mind to be Lady Fawn. But, on the -morning of the 30th of March she had not sent her letter. She had told -herself that she would take two days to think of her reply, and on the -Friday morning the few words she had prepared were still lying in her -desk. - -What was she to get by marrying a man she absolutely disliked? That he -also absolutely disliked her was not a matter much in her thoughts. The -man would not ill-treat her because he disliked her; or it might perhaps -be juster to say that the ill-treatment which she might fairly anticipate -would not be of a nature which would much affect her comfort grievously. -He would not beat her, nor rob her, nor lock her up, nor starve her. He -would either neglect her or preach sermons to her. For the first she could -console herself by the attention of others; and should he preach, perhaps -she could preach too--as sharply if not as lengthily as his lordship. At -any rate she was not afraid of him. But what would she gain? It is very -well to have a rock, as Mrs. Carbuncle had said, but a rock is not -everything. She did not know whether she cared much for living upon a -rock. Even stability may be purchased at too high a price. There was not a -grain of poetry in the whole composition of Lord Fawn, and poetry was what -her very soul craved--poetry, together with houses, champagne, jewels, and -admiration. Her income was still her own, and she did not quite see that -the rock was so absolutely necessary to her. Then she wrote another note -to Lord Fawn, a specimen of a note, so that she might have the opportunity -of comparing the two. This note took her much longer than the one first -written. - -"MY LORD: I do not know how to acknowledge with sufficient humility the -condescension and great kindness of your lordship's letter. But perhaps -its manly generosity is more conspicuous than either. The truth is, my -lord, you want to escape from your engagement, but are too much afraid of -the consequences to dare to do so by any act of your own. Therefore you -throw it upon me. You are quite successful. I don't think you ever read -poetry, but perhaps you may understand the two following lines: - - "'I am constrained to say your lordship's scullion - Should sooner be my husband than yourself.' - -"I see through you, and despise you thoroughly. - -"E. EUSTACE." - -She was comparing the two answers together, very much in doubt as to which -should be sent, when there came a message to her by a man whom she knew to -be a policeman, though he did not announce himself as such, and was -dressed in plain clothes. Major Mackintosh sent his compliments to her, -and would wait, upon her that afternoon at three o'clock, if she would -have the kindness to receive him. At the first moment of seeing the man -she felt that after all the rock was what she wanted. Mrs. Carbuncle was -right. She had had troubles and might have more, and the rock was the -thing. But then the more certainly did she become convinced of this by the -presence of the major's messenger, the more clearly did she see the -difficulty of attaining the security which the rock offered. If this -public exposure should fall upon her, Lord Fawn's renewed offer, as she -knew well, would stand for nothing. If once it were known that she had -kept the necklace--her own necklace--under her pillow at Carlisle, he -would want no further justification in repudiating her, were it for the -tenth time. She was very uncivil to the messenger, and the more so because -she found that the man bore her rudeness without turning upon her and -rending her. When she declared that the police had behaved very badly, and -that Major Mackintosh was inexcusable in troubling her again, and that she -had ceased to care twopence about the necklace, the man made no -remonstrance to her petulance. He owned that the trouble was very great, -and the police very inefficient. He almost owned that the major was -inexcusable. He did not care what he owned so that he achieved his object. -But when Lizzie said that she could not see Major Mackintosh at three, and -objected equally to two, four, or five; then the courteous messenger from -Scotland Yard did say a word to make her understand that there must be a -meeting--and he hinted also that the major was doing a most unusually -good-natured thing in coming to Hertford Street. Of course Lizzie made the -appointment. If the major chose to come, she would be at home at three. - -As soon as the policeman was gone she sat alone, with a manner very much -changed from that which she had worn since the arrival of Lord Fawn's -letter; with a fresh weight of care upon her, greater perhaps than she had -ever hitherto borne. She had had bad moments--when, for instance, she had -been taken before the magistrates at Carlisle, when she found the police -in her house on her return from the theatre, and when Lord George had -forced her secret from her. But at each of these periods hope had come -renewed before despair had crushed her. Now it seemed to her that the -thing was done and that the game was over. This chief man of the London -police no doubt knew the whole story. If she could only already have -climbed upon some rock, so that there might be a man bound to defend her-- -a man at any rate bound to put himself forward on her behalf and do -whatever might be done in her defence--she might have endured it! - -What would she do now, at this minute? She looked at her watch and found -that it was already past one. Mrs. Carbuncle, as she knew, was closeted -up-stairs with Lucinda, whose wedding was fixed for the following Monday. -It was now Friday. Were she to call upon Mrs. Carbuncle for aid no aid -would be forthcoming unless she were to tell the whole truth. She almost -thought that she would do so. But then, how great would have been her -indiscretion if, after all, when the major should come, she should -discover that he did not know the truth himself! That Mrs. Carbuncle would -keep her secret she did not for a moment think. She longed for the comfort -of some friend's counsel, but she found at last that she could not -purchase it by telling everything to a woman. - -Might it not be possible that she should still run away? She did not know -much of the law, but she thought that they could not punish her for -breaking an appointment even with a man so high in authority as Major -Mackintosh. She could leave a note saying that pressing business called -her out. But whither should she go? She thought of taking a cab to the -House of Commons, finding her cousin, and telling him everything. It would -be so much better that he should see the major. But then again it might be -that she should be mistaken as to the amount of the major's information. -After a while she almost determined to fly off at once to Scotland, -leaving word that she was obliged to go instantly to her child. But there -was no direct train to Scotland before eight or nine in the evening, and -during the intervening hours the police would have ample time to find her. -What, indeed, could she do with herself during these intervening hours? -Ah, if she had but a rock now, so that she need not be dependent -altogether on the exercise of her own intellect! - -Gradually the minutes passed by, and she became aware that she must face -the major. Well! What had she done? She had stolen nothing. She had taken -no person's property. She had, indeed, been wickedly robbed, and the -police had done nothing to get back for her her property, as they were -bound to have done. She would take care to tell the major what she thought -about the negligence of the police. The major should not have the talk all -to himself. - -If it had not been for one word with which Lord George had stunned her -ears, she could still have borne it well. She had told a lie; perhaps two -or three lies. She knew that she had lied. But then people lie every day. -She would not have minded it much if she were simply to be called a liar. -But he had told her that she would be accused of perjury. There was -something frightful to her in the name. And there were she knew not what -dreadful penalties attached to it. Lord George had told her that she might -be put in prison--whether he had said for years or for months she had -forgotten. And she thought she had heard of people's property being -confiscated to the Crown when they had been made out to be guilty of -certain great offences. Oh, how she wished that she had a rock! - -When three o'clock came she had not started for Scotland or elsewhere, and -at last she received the major. Could she have thoroughly trusted the -servant she would have denied herself at the last moment, but she feared -that she might be betrayed, and she thought that her position would be -rendered even worse than it was at present by a futile attempt. She was -sitting alone, pale, haggard, trembling, when Major Mackintosh was shown -into her room. It may be as well explained at once, at this moment; the -major knew, or thought that he knew, every circumstance of the two -robberies, and that his surmises were, in every respect, right. Miss -Crabstick and Mr. Cann were in comfortable quarters, and were prepared to -tell all that they could tell. Mr. Smiler was in durance, and Mr. Benjamin -was at Vienna, in the hands of the Austrian police, who were prepared to -give him up to those who desired his society in England, on the completion -of certain legal formalities. That Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Smiler would be -prosecuted, the latter for the robbery and the former for conspiracy to -rob, and for receiving stolen goods, was a matter of course. But what was -to be done with Lady Eustace? That, at the present moment, was the -prevailing trouble with the police. During the last three weeks every -precaution had been taken to keep the matter secret, and it is hardly too -much to say that Lizzie's interests were handled not only with -consideration but with tenderness. - -"Lady Eustace," said the major, "I am very sorry to trouble you. No doubt -the man who called on you this morning explained to you who I am." - -"Oh yes, I know who you are--quite well." Lizzie made a great effort to -speak without betraying her consternation; but she was nearly prostrated. -The major, however, hardly observed her, and was by no means at ease -himself in his effort to save her from unnecessary annoyance. He was a -tall, thin, gaunt man of about forty, with large, good-natured eyes--but -it was not till the interview was half over that Lizzie took courage to -look even into his face. - -"Just so; I am come, you know, about the robbery which took place here-and -the other robbery at Carlisle." - -"I have been so troubled about these horrid robberies! Sometimes I think -they'll be the death of me." - -"I think, Lady Eustace, we have found out the whole truth." - -"Oh, I daresay. I wonder why--you have been so long--finding it out." - -"We have had very clever people to deal with, Lady Eustace--and I fear -that, even now, we shall never get back the property." - -"I do not care about the property, sir--although it was all my own. Nobody -has lost anything but myself; and I really don't see why the thing should -not die out, as I don't care about it. Whoever it is, they may have it -now." - -"We were bound to get to the bottom of it all, if we could; and I think -that we have--at last. Perhaps, as you say, we ought to have done it -sooner." - -"Oh--I don't care." - -"We have two persons in custody, Lady Eustace, whom we shall use as -witnesses, and I am afraid we shall have to call upon you also--as a -witness." It occurred to Lizzie that they could not lock her up in prison -and make her a witness too, but she said nothing. Then the major continued -his speech--and asked her the question which was, in fact, alone material. -"Of course, Lady Eustace, you are not bound to say anything to me unless -you like--and you must understand that I by no means wish you to criminate -yourself." - -"I don't know what that means." - -"If you yourself have done anything wrong, I don't want to ask you to -confess it." - -"I have had all my diamonds stolen, if you mean that. Perhaps it was wrong -to have diamonds." - -"But to come to my question--I suppose we may take it for granted that the -diamonds were in your desk when the thieves made their entrance into this -house, and broke the desk open, and stole the money out of it?" Lizzie -breathed so hardly, that she was quite unable to speak. The man's voice -was very gentle and very kind--but then how could she admit that one fact? -All depended on that one fact. "The woman Crabstick," said the major, "has -confessed, and will state on her oath that she saw the necklace in your -hands in Hertford Street, and that she saw it placed in the desk. She then -gave information of this to Benjamin--as she had before given information -as to your journey up from Scotland--and she was introduced to the two men -whom she let into the house. One of them, indeed, who will also give -evidence for us, she had before met at Carlisle. She then was present when -the necklace was taken out of the desk. The man who opened the desk and -took it out, who also cut the door at Carlisle, will give evidence to the -same effect. The man who carried the necklace out of the house, and who -broke open the box at Carlisle, will be tried--as will also Benjamin, who -disposed of the diamonds. I have told you the whole story, as it has been -told to me by the woman Crabstick. Of course you will deny the truth of -it, if it be untrue." Lizzie sat with her eyes fixed upon the floor, but -said nothing. She could not speak. "If you will allow me, Lady Eustace, to -give you advice--really friendly advice----" - -"Oh, pray do." - -"You had better admit the truth of the story, if it is true." - -"They were my own," she whispered. - -"Or, at any rate, you believed that they were. There can be no doubt, I -think, as to that. No one supposes that the robbery at Carlisle was -arranged on your behalf." - -"Oh, no." - -"But you had taken them out of the box before you went to bed at the inn?" - -"Not then." - -"But you had taken them?" - -"I did it in the morning before I started from Scotland. They frightened -me by saying the box would be stolen." - -"Exactly--and then you put them into your desk here, in this house?" - -"Yes--sir." - -"I should tell you, Lady Eustace, that I had not a doubt about this before -I came here. For some time past I have thought that it must be so; and -latterly the confession of two of the accomplices has made it certain to -me. One of the housebreakers and the jeweller will be tried for the -felony, and I am afraid that you must undergo the annoyance of being one -of the witnesses." - -"What will they do to me, Major Mackintosh?" Lizzie now for the first time -looked up into his eyes, and felt that they were kind. Could he be her -rock? He did not speak to her like an enemy--and then, too, he would know -better than any man alive how she might best escape from her trouble. - -"They will ask you to tell the truth." - -"Indeed I will do that," said Lizzie--not aware that, after so many lies, -it might be difficult to tell the truth. - -"And you will probably be asked to repeat it, this way and that, in a -manner that will be troublesome to you. You see that here in London, and -at Carlisle, you have--given incorrect versions." - -"I know I have. But the necklace was my own. There was nothing dishonest-- -was there, Major Mackintosh? When they came to me at Carlisle I was so -confused that I hardly knew what to tell them. And when I had once--given -an incorrect version, you know, I didn't know how to go back." - -The major was not so well acquainted with Lizzie as is the reader, and he -pitied her. "I can understand all that," he said. - -How much kinder he was than Lord George had been when she confessed the -truth to him. Here would be a rock! And such a handsome man as he was, -too--not exactly a Corsair, as he was great in authority over the London -police--but a powerful, fine fellow, who would know what to do with swords -and pistols as well as any Corsair--and one, too, no doubt, who would -understand poetry! Any such dream, however, was altogether unavailing, as -the major had a wife at home and seven children. "If you will only tell me -what to do, I will do it," she said, looking up into his face with -entreaty, and pressing her hands together in supplication. - -Then at great length, and with much patience, he explained to her what he -would have her do. He thought that, if she were summoned and used as a -witness, there would be no attempt to prosecute her for the--incorrect -versions--of which she had undoubtedly been guilty. The probability was, -that she would receive assurance to this effect before she would be asked -to give her evidence, preparatory to the committal of Benjamin and Smiler. -He could not assure her that it would be so, but he had no doubt of it. In -order, however, that things might be made to run as smooth as possible, he -recommended her very strongly to go at once to Mr. Camperdown and make a -clean breast of it to him. "The whole family should be told," said the -major, "and it will be better for you that they should know it from -yourself than from us." When she hesitated, he explained to her that the -matter could no longer be kept as a secret, and that her evidence would -certainly appear in the papers. He proposed that she should be summoned -for that day week--which would be the Friday after Lucinda's marriage--and -he suggested that she should go to Mr. Camperdown's on the morrow. - -"What--to-morrow?" exclaimed Lizzie, in dismay. - -"My dear Lady Eustace," said the major, "the sooner you get back into -straight running, the sooner you will be comfortable." Then she promised -that she would go on the Tuesday--the day after the marriage. "If he -learns it in the mean time, you must not be surprised," said the major. - -"Tell me one thing, Major Mackintosh," she said, as she gave him her hand -at parting, "they can't take away from me anything that is my own--can -they?" - -"I don't think they can," said the major, escaping rather quickly from the -room. - - - - -CHAPTER LXIX - -"I CANNOT DO IT" - - -The Saturday and the Sunday Lizzie passed in outward tranquillity, though -doubtless her mind was greatly disturbed. She said nothing of what had -passed between her and Major Mackintosh, explaining that his visit had -been made solely with the object of informing her that Mr. Benjamin was to -be sent home from Vienna, but that the diamonds were gone forever. She -had, as she declared to herself, agreed with Major Mackintosh that she -would not go to Mr. Camperdown till the Tuesday--justifying her delay by -her solicitude in reference to Miss Roanoke's marriage; and therefore -these two days were her own. After them would come a totally altered phase -of existence. All the world would know the history of the diamonds--cousin -Frank, and Lord Fawn, and John Eustace, and Mrs. Carbuncle, and the -Bobsborough people, and Lady Glencora, and that old vulturess, her aunt, -the Countess of Linlithgow. It must come now--but she had two days in -which she could be quiet and think of her position. She would, she -thought, send one of her letters to Lord Fawn before she went to Mr. -Camperdown--but which should she send? Or should she write a third -explaining the whole matter in sweetly piteous feminine terms, and -swearing that the only remaining feeling in her bosom was a devoted -affection to the man who had now twice promised to be her husband? - -In the mean time the preparations for the great marriage went on. Mrs. -Carbuncle spent her time busily between Lucinda's bedchamber and the -banqueting hall in Albemarle street. In spite of pecuniary difficulties -the trousseau was to be a wonder; and even Lizzie was astonished at the -jewelry which that indefatigable woman had collected together for a -preliminary show in Hertford Street. She had spent hours at Howell and -James's, and had made marvellous bargains there and elsewhere. Things were -sent for selection, of which the greater portion were to be returned, but -all were kept for the show. The same things which were shown to separate -friends in Hertford Street as part of the trousseau on Friday and Saturday -were carried over to Albemarle Street on the Sunday, so as to add to the -quasi-public exhibition of presents on the Monday. The money expended had -gone very far. The most had been made of a failing credit. Every particle -of friendly generosity had been so manipulated as to add to the external -magnificence. And Mrs. Carbuncle had done all this without any help from -Lucinda, in the midst of most contemptuous indifference on Lucinda's part. -She could hardly be got to allow the milliners to fit the dresses to her -body, and positively refused to thrust her feet into certain golden-heeled -boots with brightly-bronzed toes which were a great feature among the -raiment. Nobody knew it except Mrs. Carbuncle and the maid; even Lizzie -Eustace did not know it; but once the bride absolutely ran amuck among the -finery, scattering the laces here and there, pitching the glove-boxes -under the bed, chucking the golden-heeled boots into the fire-place, and -exhibiting quite a tempest of fury against one of the finest shows of -petticoats ever arranged with a view to the admiration and envy of female -friends. But all this Mrs. Carbuncle bore, and still persevered. The thing -was so nearly done now that she could endure to persevere though the -provocation to abandon it was so great. She had even ceased to find fault -with her niece, but went on in silence counting the hours till the trouble -should be taken off her own shoulders and placed on those of Sir Griffin. -It was a great thing to her, almost more than she had expected, that -neither Lucinda nor Sir Griffin should have positively declined the -marriage. It was impossible that either should retreat from it now. - -Luckily for Mrs. Carbuncle, Sir Griffin took delight in the show. He did -this after a bearish fashion, putting his finger upon little flaws with an -intelligence for which Mrs. Carbuncle had not hitherto given him credit. -As to certain ornaments, he observed that the silver was plated and the -gold ormolu. A "rope" of pearls he at once detected as being false, and -after fingering certain lace he turned up his nose and shook his head. -Then, on the Sunday, in Albemarle Street, he pointed out to Mrs. Carbuncle -sundry articles which he had seen in the bedroom on the Saturday. - -"But, my dear Sir Griffin, that's of course," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Oh; that's of course, is it?" said Sir Griffin turning up his nose again. -"Where did that Delft bowl come from?" - -"It is one of Mortlook's finest Etruscan vases," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Oh, I thought that Etruscan vases came from--from somewhere in Greece or -Italy," said Sir Griffin. - -"I declare that you are shocking," said Mrs. Carbuncle, struggling to -maintain her good-humour. - -He passed hours of the Sunday in Hertford Street, and Lord George also was -there for some time. Lizzie, who could hardly devote her mind to the -affairs of the wedding, remained alone in her own sitting-room during the -greater part of the day; but she did show herself while Lord George was -there. - -"So I hear that Mackintosh has been here," said Lord George. - -"Yes, he was here." - -"And what did he say?" Lizzie did not like the way in which the man looked -at her, feeling it to be not only unfriendly, but absolutely cruel. It -seemed to imply that he knew that her secret was about to be divulged. And -what was he to her now that he should be impertinent to her? What he knew, -all the world would know before the end of the week. And that other man -who knew it already, had been kind to her, had said nothing about perjury, -but had explained to her that what she would have to bear would be -trouble, and not imprisonment and loss of money. Lord George, to whom she -had been so civil, for whom she had spent money, to whom she had almost -offered herself and ail that she possessed--Lord George, whom she had -selected as the first repository of her secret, had spoken no word to -comfort her, but had made things look worse for her than they were. Why -should she submit to be questioned by Lord George? In a day or two the -secret which he knew would be no secret. "Never mind what he said, Lord -George," she replied. - -"Has he found it all out?" - -"You had better go and ask him yourself," said Lizzie. "I am sick of the -subject, and I mean to have done with it." - -Lord George laughed, and Lizzie hated him for his laugh. - -"I declare," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "that you two who were such friends are -always snapping at each other now." - -"The fickleness is all on her ladyship's part, not on mine," said Lord -George; whereupon Lady Eustace walked out of the room and was not seen -again till dinner-time. - -Soon afterwards Lucinda also endeavoured to escape, but to this Sir -Griffin objected. Sir Griffin was in a very good humour, and bore himself -like a prosperous bridegroom. - -"Come, Luce," he said, "get off your high horse for a little. To-morrow, -you know, you must come down altogether." - -"So much the more reason for my remaining up to-day." - -"I'll be shot if you shall," said Sir Griffin. "Luce, sit in my lap, and -give me a kiss." - -At this moment Lord George and Mrs. Carbuncle were in the front drawing- -room, and Lord George was telling her the true story as to the necklace. -It must be explained on his behalf that in doing this he did not consider -that he was betraying the trust reposed in him. "They know all about it in -Scotland Yard," he said; "I got it from Gager. They were bound to tell me -as, up to this week past, every man in the police thought that I had been -the master-mind among the thieves. When I think of it I hardly know -whether to laugh or cry." - -"And she had them all the time?" exclaimed Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Yes; in this house! Did you ever hear of such a little cat? I could tell -you more than that. She wanted me to take them and dispose of them." - -"No!" - -"She did, though; and now see the way she treats me! Never mind. Don't say -a word to her about it till it comes out of itself. She'll have to be -arrested, no doubt." - -"Arrested!" Mrs. Carbuncle's further exclamations were stopped by -Lucinda's struggles in the other room. She had declined to sit upon the -bridegroom's lap, but had acknowledged that she was bound to submit to be -kissed. He had kissed her, and then had striven to drag her onto his knee. -But she was strong, and had resisted violently, and, as he afterwards -said, had struck him savagely. - -"Of course I struck him," said Lucinda. - -"By ----, you shall pay for it," said Sir Griffin. This took place in the -presence of Lord George and Mrs. Carbuncle, and yet they were to be -married to-morrow. - -"The idea of complaining that a girl hit you--and the girl who is to be -your wife!" said Lord George, as they walked off together. - -"I know what to complain of, and what not," said Sir Griffin. "Are you -going to let me have that money?" - -"No, I am not," said Lord George, "so there's an end of that." -Nevertheless, they dined together at their club afterwards, and in the -evening Sir Griffin was again in Hertford Street. - -This happened on the Sunday, on which day none of the ladies had gone to -church. Mr. Emilius well understood the cause of their absence, and felt -nothing of a parson's anger at it. He was to marry the couple on the -Monday morning, and dined with the ladies on the Sunday. He was peculiarly -gracious and smiling, and spoke of the Hymeneals as though they were even -more than ordinarily joyful and happy in their promise. To Lizzie he was -almost affectionate, and Mrs. Carbuncle he flattered to the top of her -bent. The power of the man, in being sprightly under such a load of -trouble as oppressed the household, was wonderful. He had to do with three -women who were worldly, hard, and given entirely to evil things. Even as -regarded the bride, who felt the horror of her position, so much must be, -in truth, admitted. Though from day to day and hour to hour she would -openly declare her hatred of the things around her, yet she went on. Since -she had entered upon life she had known nothing but falsehood and scheming -wickedness; and, though she rebelled against the consequences, she had not -rebelled against the wickedness. Now, to this unfortunate young woman and -her two companions, Mr. Emilius discoursed with an unctuous mixture of -celestial and terrestrial glorification, which was proof, at any rate, of -great ability on his part. He told them how a good wife was a crown, or -rather a chaplet of ethereal roses to her husband, and how high rank and -great station in the world made such a chaplet more beautiful and more -valuable. His work in the vineyard, he said, had fallen lately among the -wealthy and nobly born; and though he would not say that he was entitled -to take glory on that account, still he gave thanks daily, in that he had -been enabled to give his humble assistance towards the running of a godly -life to those who, by their example, were enabled to have so wide an -effect upon their poorer fellow-creatures. He knew well how difficult it -was for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. They had the highest -possible authority for that. But Scriptures never said that the camel, -which, as he explained it, was simply a thread larger than ordinary -thread, could not go through the needle's eye. The camel which succeeded, -in spite of the difficulties attending its exalted position, would be -peculiarly blessed. And he went on to suggest that the three ladies before -him, one of whom was about to enter upon a new phase of life to-morrow, -under auspices peculiarly propitious, were, all of them, camels of this -description. Sir Griffin, when he came in, received for a while the -peculiar attention of Mr. Emilius. "I think, Sir Griffin," he commenced, -"that no period of a man's life is so blessed, as that upon which you will -enter to-morrow." This he said in a whisper, but it was a whisper audible -to the ladies. - -"Well, yes; it's all right, I dare say," said Sir Griffin. - -"Well, after all, what is life till a man has met and obtained the partner -of his soul? It is a blank, and the blank becomes every day more and more -intolerable to the miserable solitary." - -"I wonder you don't get married yourself," said Mrs. Carbuncle, who -perceived that Sir Griffin was rather astray for an answer. - -"Ah! if one could always be fortunate when one loved," said Mr. Emilius, -casting his eyes across to Lizzie Eustace. It was evident to them all that -he did not wish to conceal his passion. - -It was the object of Mrs. Carbuncle that the lovers should not be left -alone together, but that they should be made to think that they were -passing the evening in affectionate intercourse. Lucinda hardly spoke, -hardly had spoken since her disagreeable struggle with Sir Griffin. He -said but little, but with Mrs. Carbuncle was better humoured than usual. -Every now and then she made little whispered communications to him, -telling that they would be sure to be at the church at eleven to the -moment, explaining to him what would be the extent of Lucinda's boxes for -the wedding tour, and assuring him that he would find Lucinda's new maid a -treasure in regard to his own shirts and pocket handkerchiefs. She toiled -marvellously at little subjects, always making some allusion to Lucinda, -and never hinting that aught short of Elysium was in store for him. The -labour was great; the task was terrible; but now it was so nearly over! -And to Lizzie she was very courteous, never hinting by a word or a look -that there was any new trouble impending on the score of the diamonds. -She, too, as she received the greasy compliments of Mr. Emilius with -pretty smiles, had her mind full enough of care. - -At last Sir Griffin went, again kissing his bride as he left. Lucinda -accepted his embrace without a word and almost without a shudder. "Eleven -to the moment, Sir Griffin," said Mrs. Carbuncle, with her best good- -humour. - -"All right," said Sir Griffin as he passed out of the door. Lucinda walked -across the room and kept her eyes fixed on his retreating figure as he -descended the stairs. Mr. Emilius had already departed, with many promises -of punctuality, and Lizzie now withdrew for the night. - -"Dear Lizzie, good-night," said Mrs. Carbuncle kissing her. - -"Good-night, Lady Eustace," said Lucinda. "I suppose I shall see you to- -morrow?" - -"See me, of course you will see me! I shall come into your room with the -girls after you have had your tea." The girls mentioned were the four -bridesmaids, as to whom there had been some difficulty, as Lucinda had -neither sister nor cousin, and had contracted no peculiarly tender -friendships. But Mrs. Carbuncle had arranged it, and four properly- -equipped young ladies were to be in attendance at ten on the morrow. - -Then Lucinda and Mrs. Carbuncle were alone. "Of one thing I feel sure," -said Lucinda in a low voice. - -"What is that, dear?" - -"I shall never see Sir Griffin Tewett again." - -"You talk in that way on purpose to break me down at the last moment," -said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"Dear Aunt Jane, I would not break you down if I could help it. I have -struggled so hard, simply that you might be freed from me. We have been -very foolish, both of us; but I would bear all the punishment if I could." - -"You know that this is nonsense now." - -"Very well. I only tell you. I know that I shall never see him again. I -will never trust myself alone in his presence. I could not do it. When he -touches me my whole body is in agony; to be kissed by him is madness!" - -"Lucinda, this is very wicked. You are working yourself up to a paroxysm -of folly." - -"Wicked; yes, I know that I am wicked. There has been enough of wickedness -certainly. You don't suppose that I mean to excuse myself?" - -"Of course you will marry Sir Griffin to-morrow." - -"I shall never be married to him. How I shall escape from him--by dying, -or going mad, or by destroying him--God only knows." Then she paused, and -her aunt looking into her face almost began to fear that she was in -earnest. But she would not take it as at all indicating any real result -for the morrow. The girl had often said nearly the same thing before, and -had still submitted. "Do you know Aunt Jane, I don't think I could feel to -any man as though I loved him. But for this man--O God, how I do detest -him! I cannot do it." - -"You had better go to bed, Lucinda, and let me come to you in the -morning." - -"Yes; come to me in the morning, early." - -"I will, at eight." - -"I shall know then, perhaps." - -"My dear, will you come to my room to-night and sleep with me?" - -"Oh, no. I have ever so many things to do. I have papers to burn, and -things to put away. But come to me at eight. Goodnight, Aunt Jane." Mrs. -Carbuncle went up to her room with her, kissed her affectionately, and -then left her. - -She was now really frightened. What would be said of her if she should -press the marriage forward to a completion, and if, after that, some -terrible tragedy should take place between the bride and bridegroom? That -Lucinda, in spite of all that had been said, would stand at the altar, and -allow the ceremony to be performed, she still believed. Those last words -about burning papers and putting things away seemed to imply that the girl -still thought that she would be taken away from her present home on the -morrow. But what would come afterwards? The horror which the bride -expressed was, as Mrs. Carbuncle well knew, no mock feeling, no pretence -at antipathy. She tried to think of it and to realise what might, in -truth, be the girl's action and ultimate fate when she should find herself -in the power of this man whom she so hated. But had not other girls done -the same thing, and lived through it all, and become fat, indifferent, and -fond of the world? It is only the first step that signifies. - -At any rate the thing must go on now; must go on whatever might be the -result to Lucinda or to Mrs. Carbuncle herself. Yes; it must go on. There -was, no doubt, very much of bitterness in the world for such as them, for -persons doomed by the necessities of their position to a continual -struggle. It always had been so and always would be so. But each bitter -cup must be drained in the hope that the next might be sweeter. Of course -the marriage must go on; though doubtless this cup was very bitter. - -More than once in the night Mrs. Carbuncle crept up to the door of her -niece's room, endeavouring to ascertain what might be going on within. At -two o'clock, while she was on the landing, the candle was extinguished, -and she could hear Lucinda put herself to bed. At any rate so far things -were safe. An indistinct, incompleted idea of some possible tragedy had -flitted across the mind of the poor woman, causing her to shake and -tremble, forbidding her, weary as she was, to lie down; but now she told -herself at last that this was an idle phantasy, and she went to bed. Of -course Lucinda must go through with it. It had been her own doing, and Sir -Griffin was not worse than other men. As she said this to herself, Mrs. -Carbuncle hardened her heart by remembering that her own married life had -not been peculiarly happy. - -Exactly at eight on the following morning she knocked at her niece's door -and was at once bidden to enter. "Come in, Aunt Jane." The words cheered -her wonderfully. At any rate there had been no tragedy as yet, and as she -turned the handle of the door she felt that, as a matter of course, the -marriage would go on just like any other marriage. She found Lucinda up -and dressed, but so dressed certainly to show no preparation for a wedding -toilet. She had on an ordinary stuff morning frock, and her hair was close -tucked up and pinned as it might have been had she already prepared -herself for a journey. But what astonished Mrs. Carbuncle more than the -dress was the girl's manner. She was sitting at a table with a book before -her, which was afterwards found to be the Bible, and she never turned her -head as her aunt entered the room. - -"What, up already," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "and dressed?" - -"Yes; I am up, and dressed. I have been up ever so long. How was I to lie -in bed on such a morning as this? Aunt Jane, I wish you to know as soon as -possible that no earthly consideration will induce me to leave this room -to-day." - -"What nonsense, Lucinda!" - -"Very well; all the same you might as well believe me. I want you to send -to Mr. Emilius, and to those girls, and to the man. And you had better get -Lord George to let the other people know. I'm quite in earnest." - -And she was in earnest, quite in earnest, though there was a flightiness -about her manner which induced Mrs. Carbuncle for a while to think that -she was less so than she had been on the previous evening. The unfortunate -woman remained with her niece for an hour and a half, imploring, -threatening, scolding, and weeping. When the maids came to the door, first -one maid and then another, they were refused entrance. It might still be -possible, Mrs. Carbuncle thought, that she would prevail. But nothing now -could shake Lucinda or induce her even to discuss the subject. She sat -there looking steadfastly at the book--hardly answering, never defending -herself, but protesting that nothing should induce her to leave the room -on that day. - -"Do you want to destroy me?" Mrs. Carbuncle said at last. - -"You have destroyed me," said Lucinda. - -At half-past nine Lizzie Eustace came into the room, and Mrs. Carbuncle, -in her trouble, thought it better to take other counsel. Lizzie therefore -was admitted. - -"Is anything wrong?" asked Lizzie. - -"Everything is wrong," said the aunt. "She says that--she won't be -married." - -"Oh, Lucinda!" - -"Pray speak to her, Lady Eustace. You see it is getting so late, and she -ought to be nearly dressed now. Of course she must allow herself to be -dressed." - -"I am dressed," said Lucinda. - -"But, dear Lucinda, everybody will be waiting for you," said Lizzie. - -"Let them wait, till they're tired. If Aunt Jane doesn't choose to send, -it is not my fault. I sha'n't go out of this room to-day unless I am -carried out. Do you want to hear that I have murdered the man?" - -They brought her tea, and endeavoured to induce her to eat and drink. She -would take the tea, she said, if they would promise to send to put the -people off. Mrs. Carbuncle so far gave way as to undertake to do so, if -she would name the next day, or the day following, for the wedding. But on -hearing this she arose almost in a majesty of wrath. Neither on this day, -nor on the next, nor on any following day, would she yield herself to the -wretch whom they had endeavoured to force upon her. - -"She must do it, you know," said Mrs. Carbuncle, turning to Lizzie. - -"You'll see if I must," said Lucinda, sitting square at the table with her -eyes firmly fixed upon the book. - -Then came up the servant to say that the four bridesmaids were all -assembled in the drawing-room. When she heard this, even Mrs. Carbuncle -gave way, and threw herself upon the bed and wept. "Oh, Lady Eustace, what -are we to do? Lucinda, you have destroyed me. You have destroyed me -altogether, after all that I have done for you." - -"And what has been done to me, do you think?" said Lucinda. - -Something must be settled. All the servants in the house by this time knew -that there would be no wedding, and no doubt some tidings as to the -misadventure of the day had already reached the four ladies in the -drawing-room. "What am I to do?" said Mrs. Carbuncle, starting up from the -bed. - -"I really think you had better send to Mr. Emilius," said Lizzie; "and to -Lord George." - -"What am I to say? Who is there to go to? Oh, I wish that somebody would -kill me this minute! Lady Eustace, would you mind going down and telling -those ladies to go away?" - -"And had I not better send Richard to the church?" - -"Oh yes; send anybody, everywhere. I don't know what to do. Oh, Lucinda, -this is the unkindest and the wickedest, and most horrible thing that -anybody ever did! I shall never, never be able to hold up my head again." -Mrs. Carbuncle was completely prostrate, but Lucinda sat square at the -table, firm as a rock, saying nothing, making no excuse for herself, with -her eyes fixed upon the Bible. - -Lady Eustace carried her message to the astonished and indignant -bridesmaids, and succeeded in sending them back to their respective homes. -Richard, glorious in new livery, forgetting that his flowers were still on -his breast, ready dressed to attend the bride's carriage, went with his -sad message, first to the church and then to the banqueting-hall in -Albemarle Street. - -"Not any wedding?" said the head-waiter at the hotel. "I knew they was -folks as would have a screw loose somewheres. There's lots to stand for -the bill, anyways," he added, as he remembered all the tribute. - - - - -CHAPTER LXX - -ALAS! - - -No attempt was made to send other messages from Hertford Street than those -which were taken to the church and to the hotel. Sir Griffin and Lord -George went together to the church in a brougham, and on the way the best -man rather ridiculed the change in life which he supposed that his friend -was about to make. - -"I don't in the least know how you mean to get along," said Lord George. - -"Much as other men do, I suppose." - -"But you're always sparring, already." - -"It's that old woman that you're so fond of," said Sir Griffin. "I don't -mean to have any ill-humour from my wife, I can tell you. I know who will -have the worst of it if there is." - -"Upon my word, I think you'll have your hands full," said Lord George. -They got out at a sort of private door attached to the chapel, and were -there received by the clerk, who wore a very long face. The news had -already come, and had been communicated to Mr. Emilius, who was in the -vestry. "Are the ladies here yet?" asked Lord George. The woebegone clerk -told them that the ladies were not yet there, and suggested that they -should see Mr. Emilius. Into the presence of Mr. Emilius they were led, -and then they heard the truth. - -"Sir Griffin," said Mr. Emilius, holding the baronet by the hand, "I'm -sorry to have to tell you that there's something wrong in Hertford -Street." - -"What's wrong?" asked Sir Griffin. - -"You don't mean to say that Miss Roanoke is not to be here?" demanded Lord -George. "By George, I thought as much--I did indeed." - -"I can only tell you what I know, Lord George. Mrs. Carbuncle's servant -was here ten minutes since, Sir Griffin, before I came down, and he told -the clerk that--that----" - -"What the d---- did he tell him?" asked Sir Griffin. - -"He said that Miss Roanoke had changed her mind, and didn't mean to be -married at all. That's all that I can learn from what he says. Perhaps you -will think it best to go up to Hertford Street?" - -"I'll be ---- if I do," said Sir Griffin. - -"I am not in the least surprised," repeated Lord George. "Tewett, my boy, -we might as well go home to lunch, and the sooner you're out of town the -better." - -"I knew that I should be taken in at last by that accursed woman," said -Sir Griffin. - -"It wasn't Mrs. Carbuncle, if you mean that. She'd have given her left -hand to have had it completed. I rather think you've had an escape, Griff; -and if I were you, I'd make the best of it." Sir Griffin spoke not another -word, but left the church with his friend in the brougham that had brought -them, and so he disappears from our story. Mr. Emilius looked after him -with wistful eyes, regretful for his fee. Had the baronet been less coarse -and violent in his language he would have asked for it; but he feared that -he might be cursed in his own church, before his clerk, and abstained. -Late in the afternoon Lord George, when he had administered comfort to the -disappointed bridegroom in the shape of a hot lunch, curaçoa, and cigars, -walked up to Hertford Street, calling at the hotel in Albemarle Street on -the way. The waiter told him all that he knew. Some thirty or forty guests -had come to the wedding-banquet, and had all been sent away with tidings -that the marriage had been--postponed. - -"You might have told 'em a trifle more than that," said Lord George. - -"Postponed was pleasantest, my lord," said the waiter. "Anyways, that was -said, and we supposes, my lord, as the things ain't wanted now." - -Lord George replied that as far as he knew the things were not wanted, and -then continued his way up to Hertford Street. - -At first he saw Lizzie Eustace, upon whom the misfortune of the day had -had a most depressing effect. The wedding was to have been the one morsel -of pleasing excitement which would come before she underwent the humble -penance to which she was doomed. That was frustrated and abandoned, and -now she could think only of Mr. Camperdown, her cousin Frank, and Lady -Glencora Palliser. "What's up now?" said Lord George, with that disrespect -which had always accompanied his treatment of her since she had told him -her secret. "What's the meaning of all this?" - -"I dare say that you know as well as I do, my lord." - -"I must know a good deal if I do. It seems that among you there is nothing -but one trick upon another." - -"I suppose you are speaking of your own friends, Lord George. You -doubtless know much more than I do of Miss Roanoke's affairs." - -"Does she mean to say that she doesn't mean to marry the man at all?" - -"So I understand; but really you had better send for Mrs. Carbuncle." - -He did send for Mrs. Carbuncle, and after some words with her was taken up -into Lucinda's room. There sat the unfortunate girl, in the chair from -which she had not moved since the morning. There had come over her face a -look of fixed but almost idiotic resolution; her mouth was compressed, and -her eyes were glazed, and she sat twiddling her book before her with her -fingers. She had eaten nothing since she had got up, and had long ceased -to be violent when questioned by her aunt. But nevertheless she was firm -enough when her aunt begged to be allowed to write a letter to Sir -Griffin, explaining that all this had arisen from temporary indisposition. - -"No; it isn't temporary. It isn't temporary at all. You can write to him, -but I'll never come out of this room if I am told that I am to see him." - -"What is all this about, Lucinda?" said Lord George, speaking in his -kindest voice. - -"Is he there?" said she, turning round suddenly. - -"Sir Griffin? no, indeed. He has left town." - -"You're sure he's not there? It's no good his coming. If he comes for ever -and ever he shall never touch me again--not alive; he shall never touch me -again alive." As she spoke she moved across the room to the fire-place and -grasped the poker in her hand. - -"Has she been like that all the morning?" whispered Lord George. - -"No--not like--she has been quite quiet. Lucinda!" - -"Don't let him come here, then; that's all. What's the use? They can't -make me marry him. And I won't marry him. Everybody has known that I hated -him--detested him. Oh, Lord George, it has been very, very cruel." - -"Has it been my fault, Lucinda?" - -"She wouldn't have done it if you had told her not. But you won't bring -him again, will you?" - -"Certainly not. He means to go abroad." - -"Ah, yes; that will be best. Let him go abroad. He knew it all the time, -that I hated him. Why did he want me to be his wife? If he has gone abroad -I will go down-stairs. But I won't go out of the house. Nothing shall make -me go out of the house. Are the bridesmaids gone?" - -"Long ago," said Mrs. Carbuncle piteously. - -"Then I will go down." And between them, they led her into the drawing- -room. - -"It is my belief," said Lord George to Mrs. Carbuncle some minutes -afterward, "that you have driven her mad." - -"Are you going to turn against me?" - -"It is true. How you have had the heart to go on pressing it upon her, I -could never understand. I am about as hard as a milestone, but I'll be -shot if I could have done it. From day to day I thought that you would -have given way." - -"That is so like a man--when it is all over to turn upon a woman and say -that she did it." - -"Didn't you do it? I thought you did, and that you took a great deal of -pride in the doing of it. When you made him offer to her, down in -Scotland, and made her accept him, you were so proud that you could hardly -hold yourself. What will you do now? Go on, just as though nothing had -happened?" - -"I don't know what we shall do. There will be so many things to be paid." - -"I should think there would, and you can hardly expect Sir Griffin to pay -for them. You'll have to take her away somewhere. You'll find that she -can't remain here. And that other woman will be in prison before the -week's over, I should say, unless she runs away." - -There was not much of comfort to be obtained by any of them from Lord -George, who was quite as harsh to Mrs. Carbuncle as he had been to Lizzie -Eustace. He remained in Hertford Street for an hour, and then took his -leave, saying that he thought that he also should go abroad. "I didn't -think," he said, "that anything could have hurt my character much; but -upon my word, between you and Lady Eustace, I begin to find that in every -deep there may be a lower depth. All the town has given me the credit for -stealing her ladyship's necklace, and now I shall be mixed up in this mock -marriage. I shouldn't wonder if Rooper were to send his bill in to me." -(Mr. Rooper was the keeper of the hotel in Albemarle Street.) "I think I -shall follow Sir Griffin abroad. You have made England too hot to hold -me." - -And so he left them. - -The evening of that day was a terrible time to the three ladies in -Hertford Street, and the following day was almost worse. Nobody came to -see them, and not one of them dared to speak of the future. For the third -day, the Wednesday, Lady Eustace had made her appointment with Mr. -Camperdown, having written to the attorney, in compliance with the -pressing advice of Major Mackintosh, to name an hour. Mr. Camperdown had -written again, sending his compliments, and saying that he would receive -Lady Eustace at the time fixed by her. The prospect of this interview was -very bad, but even this was hardly so oppressive as the actual, existing -wretchedness of that house. Mrs. Carbuncle, whom Lizzie had always known -as high-spirited, bold, and almost domineering, was altogether prostrated -by her misfortunes. She was querulous, lachrymose, and utterly despondent. -From what Lizzie now learned, her hostess was enveloped in a mass of debt -which would have been hopeless even had Lucinda gone off as a bride; but -she had been willing to face all that with the object of establishing her -niece. She could have expected nothing from the marriage for herself. She -well knew that Sir Griffin would neither pay her debts nor give her a home -nor lend her money. But to have married the girl who was in her charge -would have been in itself a success, and would have in some sort repaid -her for her trouble. There would have been something left to show for her -expenditure of time and money. But now there was nothing around her but -failure and dismay. The very servants in the house seemed to know that -ordinary respect was hardly demanded from them. - -As to Luanda, Lizzie felt, from the very hour in which she first saw her, -on the morning of the intended wedding, that her mind was astray. She -insisted on passing the time up in her own room, and always sat with the -Bible before her. At every knock at the door, or ring at the bell, she -would look round suspiciously, and once she whispered into Lizzie's ear -that if ever "he" should come there again she would "give him a kiss with -a vengeance." On the Tuesday "Lizzie recommended Mrs. Carbuncle to get -medical advice, and at last they sent for Mr. Emilius that they might ask -counsel of him. Mr. Emilius was full of smiles and consolation, and still -allowed his golden hopes as to some Elysian future to crop out; but he did -acknowledge at last, in a whispered conference with Lady Eustace, that -somebody ought see to Miss Roanoke. Somebody did see Miss Roanoke, and the -doctor who was thus appealed to shook his head. Perhaps Miss Roanoke had -better be taken into the country for a little while. - -"Dear Lady Eustace," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "now you can be a friend -indeed," meaning, of course, that an invitation to Portray Castle would do -more than could anything else towards making straight the crooked things -of the hour. Mrs. Carbuncle, when she made the request, of course knew of -Lizzie's coming troubles; but let them do what they could to Lizzie, they -could not take away her house. - -But Lizzie felt at once that this would not suit. "Ah, Mrs. Carbuncle," -she said, "you do not know the condition which I am in myself!" - - - - -CHAPTER LXXI - -LIZZIE IS THREATENED WITH THE TREADMILL - - -Early on the Wednesday morning, two or three hours before the time fixed -for Lizzie's visit to Mr. Camperdown, her cousin Frank came to call upon -her. She presumed him to be altogether ignorant of all that Major -Mackintosh had known, and therefore endeavoured to receive him as though -her heart were light. - -"Oh, Frank," said she, "you have heard of our terrible misfortune here?" - -"I have heard so much," said he gravely, "that I hardly know what to -believe, and what not to believe." - -"I mean about Miss Roanoke's marriage?" - -"Oh, yes; I have been told that it is broken off." - -Then Lizzie, with affected eagerness, gave him a description of the whole -affair, declaring how horrible, how tragic, the thing had been from its -very commencement. "Don't you remember, Frank, down at Portray, they never -really cared for each other? They became engaged the very time you were -there." - -"I have not forgotten it." - -"The truth is, Lucinda Roanoke did not understand what real love meant. -She had never taught herself to comprehend what is the very essence of -love, and as for Sir Griffin Tewett, though he was anxious to marry her, -he never had any idea of love at all. Did not you always feel that, -Frank?" - -"I'm sorry you have had so much to do with them, Lizzie." - -"There's no help for spilt milk, Frank; and, as for that, I don't suppose -that Mrs. Carbuncle can do me any harm. The man is a baronet, and the -marriage would have been respectable. Miss Roanoke has been eccentric, and -that has been the long and the short of it. What will be done, Frank, with -all the presents that were bought?" - -"I haven't an idea. They'd better be sold to pay the bills. But I came to -you, Lizzie, about another piece of business." - -"What piece of business?" she asked, looking him in the face for a moment, -trying to be bold, but trembling as she did 50. She had believed him to be -ignorant of her story, but she had soon perceived, from his manner to her, -that he knew it all, or at least that he knew so much that she would have -to tell him all the rest. There could be no longer any secret with him. -Indeed there could be no longer any secret with anybody. She must be -prepared to encounter a world accurately informed as to every detail of -the business which, for the last three months, had been to her a burden so -oppressive that, at some periods, she had sunk altogether under the -weight. She had already endeavoured to realise her position, and to make -clear to herself the condition of her future life. Lord George had talked -to her of perjury and prison, and had tried to frighten her by making the -very worst her faults. According to him, she would certainly be made to -pay for the diamonds, and would be enabled to do so by saving her income -during a long term of incarceration. This was a terrible prospect of -things; and she had almost believed in it. Then the major had come to her. -The major, she thought, was the truest gentleman she had ever seen, and -her best friend. Ah--if it had not been for the wife and seven children, -there might still have been comfort! That which had been perjury with Lord -George, had by the major been so simply, and yet so correctly, called an -incorrect version of facts! And so it was--and no more than that. Lizzie, -in defending herself to herself, felt that, though cruel magistrates and -hard-hearted lawyers and pig-headed jurymen might call her little fault by -the name of perjury, it could not be real, wicked perjury, because the -diamonds had been her own. She had defrauded nobody--had wished to defraud -nobody--if the people had only left her alone. It had suited her to give-- -an incorrect version of facts, because people had troubled themselves -about her affairs; and now all this had come upon her! The major had -comforted her very greatly; but still--what would the world say? Even he, -kind and comfortable as he had been, had made her understand that she must -go into court and confess the incorrectness of her own version. She -believed every word the major said. Ah, there was a man worthy to be -believed--a man of men! They could not take away her income or her castle. -They could not make her pay for the diamonds. But still--what would the -world say? And what would her lovers say? What one of her lovers thought -proper to say, she had already heard. Lord George had spoken out, and had -made himself very disagreeable. Lord Fawn, she knew, would withdraw the -renewal of his offer, let her answer to him be what it might. But what -would Frank say? And now Frank was with her, looking into her face with -severe eyes. - -She was more than ever convinced that the life of a widow was not suited -for her and that, among her several lovers, she must settle her wealth and -her heart upon some special lover. Neither her wealth nor her heart would -be in any way injured by the confession which she was prepared to make. -But then men are so timid, so false, and so blind! In regard to Frank, -whom she now believed that she had loved with all the warmth of her young -affections from the first moment in which she had seen him after Sir -Florian's death--she had been at great trouble to clear the way for him. -She knew of his silly engagement to Lucy Morris, and was willing to -forgive him that offence. She knew that he could not marry Lucy, because -of his pennilessness and his indebtedness; and therefore she had taken the -trouble to see Lucy, with the view of making things straight on that side. -Lucy had, of course, been rough with her, and ill-mannered, but Lizzie -thought that, upon the whole, she had succeeded. Lucy was rough and ill- -mannered, but was, at the same time, what the world calls good, and would -hardly persevere after what had been said to her. Lizzie was sure that, a -month since, her cousin would have yielded himself to her willingly, if he -could only have freed himself from Lucy Morris. But now, just in this very -nick of time, which was so momentous to her, the police had succeeded in -unravelling her secret, and there sat Frank, looking at her with stern, -ill-natured eyes, like an enemy rather than a lover. - -"What piece of business?" she asked, in answer to his question. She must -be bold--if she could. She must brazen it out with him, if only she could -be strong enough to put on her brass in his presence. He had been so -stupidly chivalrous in believing all her stories about the robbery when -nobody else had quite believed them, that she felt that she had before her -a task that was very disagreeable and very difficult. She looked up at -him, struggling to be bold, and then her glance sank before his gaze and -fell upon the floor. - -"I do not at all wish to pry into your secrets," he said. - -Secrets from him! Some such exclamation was on her lips, when she -remembered that her special business, at the present moment, was to -acknowledge a secret which had been kept from him. - -"It is unkind of you to speak to me in that way," said she. - -"I am quite in earnest. I do not wish to pry into your secrets. But I hear -rumours which seem to be substantiated; and though, of course, I could -stay away from you----" - -"Oh--whatever happens, pray, pray do not stay away from me. Where am I to -look for advice if you stay away from me?" - -"That is all very well, Lizzie." - -"Ah, Frank, if you desert me, I am undone." - -"It is of course true that some of the police have been with you lately?" - -"Major Mackintosh was here, about the end of last week--a most kind man, -altogether a gentleman, and I was so glad to see him." - -"What made him come?" - -"What made him come?" How should she tell her story? "Oh, he came--of -course, about the robbery. They have found out everything. It was the -jeweller, Benjamin, who concocted it all. That horrid, sly girl I had, -Patience Crabstick, put him up to it. And there were two regular -housebreakers. They have found it all out at last." - -"So I hear." - -"And Major Mackintosh came to tell me about it." - -"But the diamonds are gone!" - -"Oh, yes--those weary, weary diamonds. Do you know, Frank, that, though -they were my own, as much as the coat you wear is your own, I am glad they -are gone, then I am glad that the police have not found them. They -tormented me so that I hated them. Don't you remember that I told you how -I longed to throw them into the sea, and be rid of them forever?" - -"That, of course, was a joke." - -"It was no joke, Frank. It was solemn, serious truth." - -"What I want to know is--where were they stolen?" - -That of course was the question which hitherto Lizzie Eustace had answered -by an incorrect version of facts, and now she must give the true version. -She tried to put a bold face upon it, but it was very difficult. A face -bold with brass she could not assume. Perhaps a little bit of acting might -serve her turn, and a face that should be tender rather than bold. - -"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears. - -"I always supposed that they were taken at Carlisle," said Frank. Lizzie -fell on her knees, at his feet, with her hands clasped together, and her -one long lock of hair hanging down so as to touch his arm. Her eyes were -bright with tears, but were not, as yet, wet and red with weeping. Was not -this confession enough? Was he so hard-hearted as to make her tell her own -disgrace in spoken words? Of course he knew well enough, now, when the -diamonds had been stolen. If he were possessed of any tenderness, any -tact, any manliness, he would go on, presuming that question to have been -answered. - -"I don't quite understand it all," he said, laying his hand softly upon -her shoulder. "I have been led to make so many statements to other people -which now seem to have been--incorrect! It was only the box that was taken -at Carlisle?" - -"Only the box." She could answer that question. - -"But the thieves thought that the diamonds were in the box?" - -"I suppose so. But, oh, Frank, don't cross-question me about it. If you -could know what I have suffered, you would not punish me any more. I have -got to go to Mr. Camperdown's this very day. I offered to do that at once, -and I sha'n't have strength to go through it if you are not kind to me -now. Dear, dear Frank--do be kind to me." - -And he was kind to her. He lifted her up to the sofa and did not ask her -another question about the necklace. Of course she had lied to him and to -all the world. From the very commencement of his intimacy with her, he had -known that she was a liar, and what else could he have expected but lies? -As it happened, this particular lie had been very big, very efficacious, -and the cause of boundless troubles. It had been wholly unnecessary, and -from the first, though injurious to many, more injurious to her than to -any other. He himself had been injured, but it seemed to him now that she -had absolutely ruined herself. And all this had been done for nothing--had -been done, as he thought, that Mr. Camperdown might be kept in the dark, -whereas all the light in the world would have assisted Mr. Camperdown -nothing. He brought to mind, as he stood over her, all those scenes which -she had so successfully performed in his presence since she had come to -London--scenes in which the robbery in Carlisle had been discussed between -them. She had on these occasions freely expressed her opinion about the -necklace, saying in a low whisper, with a pretty little shrug of her -shoulders, that she presumed it to be impossible that Lord George should -have been concerned in the robbery. Frank had felt, as she said so, that -some suspicion was intended by her to be attached to Lord George. She had -wondered whether Mr. Camperdown had known anything about it. She had hoped -that Lord Fawn would now be satisfied. She had been quite convinced that -Mr. Benjamin had the diamonds. She had been indignant that the police had -not traced the property. She had asked in another whisper--a very low -whisper indeed--whether it was possible that Mrs. Carbuncle should know -more about it than she was pleased to tell? And all the while the necklace -had been lying in her own desk, and she had put it there with her own -hands! - -It was marvellous to him that the woman could have been so false and have -sustained her falsehood so well. And this was his cousin, his well- -beloved; as a cousin, certainly well-beloved; and there had doubtless been -times in which he had thought that he would make her his wife! He could -not but smile as he stood looking at her, contemplating all the confusion -which she had caused, and thinking how very little the disclosure of her -iniquity seemed to confound herself. - -"Oh, Frank, do not laugh at me," she said. - -"I am not laughing, Lizzie; I am only wondering." - -"And now, Frank, what had I better do?" - -"Ah, that is difficult, is it not? You see I hardly know all the truth -yet. I do not want to know more, but how can I advise you?" - -"I thought you knew everything." - -"I don't suppose anybody can do anything to you." - -"Major Mackintosh says that nobody can. He quite understands that they -were my own property, and that I had a right to keep them in my desk if I -pleased. Why was I to tell everybody where they were? Of course I was -foolish, and now they are lost. It is I that have suffered. Major -Mackintosh quite understands that, and says that nobody can do anything to -me; only I must go to Mr. Camperdown." - -"You will have to be examined again before a magistrate." - -"Yes; I suppose I must be examined. You will go with me, Frank, won't -you?" He winced, and made no immediate reply. "I don't mean to Mr. -Camperdown, but before the magistrate. Will it be in a court?" - -"I suppose so." - -"The gentleman came here before. Couldn't he come here again?" Then he -explained to her the difference of her present position, and in doing so -he did say something of her iniquity. He made her understand that the -magistrate had gone out of his way at the last inquiry, believing her to -be a lady who had been grievously wronged, and one, therefore, to whom -much consideration was due. "And I have been grievously wronged," said -Lizzie. But now she would be required to tell the truth in opposition to -the false evidence which she had formerly given; and she would herself be -exempted from prosecution for perjury only on the ground that she would be -called on to criminate herself in giving evidence against criminals whose -crimes had been deeper than her own. "I suppose they can't quite eat me," -she said, smiling through her tears. - -"No; they won't eat you," he replied gravely. - -"And you will go with me?" - -"Yes; I suppose I had better do so." - -"Ah, that will be so nice." The idea of the scene at the police-court was -not at all "nice" to Frank Greystock. "I shall not mind what they say to -me as long as you are by my side. Everybody will know that they were my -own, won't they?" - -"And there will be the trial afterwards." - -"Another trial?" Then he explained to her the course of affairs; that the -men might not improbably be tried at Carlisle for stealing the box, and -again in London for stealing the diamonds; that two distinct acts of -burglary had been committed, and that her evidence would be required on -both occasions. He told her also that her attendance before the magistrate -on Friday would be only a preliminary ceremony, and that before the thing -was over she would doubtless be doomed to bear a great deal of annoyance, -and to answer very many disagreeable questions. "I shall care for nothing -if you will only be at my side," she exclaimed. - -He was very urgent with her to go to Scotland as soon as her examination -before the magistrates should be over, and was much astonished at the -excuse she made for not doing so. Mrs. Carbuncle had borrowed all her -ready money; but as she was now in Mrs. Carbuncle's house she could repay -herself a portion of the loan by remaining there and eating it out. She -did not exactly say how much Mrs. Carbuncle had borrowed, but she left an -impression on Frank's mind that it was about ten times the actual sum. -With this excuse he was not satisfied, and told her that she must go to -Scotland, if only for the sake of escaping from the Carbuncle connection. -She promised to obey him if he would be her convoy. The Easter holidays -were just now at hand, and he could not refuse on the plea of time. "Oh, -Frank, do not refuse me this; only think how terribly forlorn is my -position!" He did not refuse, but he did not quite promise. He was still -tender-hearted towards her in spite of her enormities. One iniquity, -perhaps her worst iniquity, he did not yet know. He had not as yet heard -of her disinterested appeal to Lucy Morris. - -When he left her she was almost joyous for a few minutes, till the thought -of her coming interview with Mr. Camperdown again overshadowed her. She -had dreaded two things chiefly--her first interview with her cousin Frank -after he should have learned the truth, and those perils in regard to -perjury with which Lord George had threatened her. Both these bugbears had -now vanished. That dear man, the major, had told her that there would be -no such perils, and her cousin Frank had not seemed to think so very much -of her lies and treachery! He had still been affectionate with her; he -would support her before the magistrate, and would travel with her to -Scotland. And after that who could tell what might come next? How foolish -she had been to trouble herself as she had done--almost to choke herself -with an agony of fear, because she had feared detection. Now she was -detected, and what had come of it? That great officer of justice, Major -Mackintosh, had been almost more than civil to her; and her dear cousin -Frank was still a cousin, dear as ever. People, after all, did not think -so very much of perjury--of perjury such as hers, committed in regard to -one's own property. It was that odious Lord George who had frightened her -instead of comforting, as he would have done had there been a spark of the -true Corsair poetry about him. She did not feel comfortably content as to -what might be said of her by Lady Glencora and the Duke of Omnium, but she -was almost inclined to think that Lady Glencora would support her. Lady -Glencora was no poor, mealy-mouthed thing, but a woman of the world, who -understood' what was what. Lizzie no doubt wished that the trials and -examinations were over; but her money was safe. They could not take away -Portray, nor could they rob her of four thousand a year. As for the rest, -she could live it down. - -She had ordered the carriage to take her to Mr. Camperdown's chambers, and -now she dressed herself for the occasion. He should not be made to think, -at any rate by her outside appearance, that she was ashamed of herself. -But before she started she had just a word with Mrs. Carbuncle. "I think I -shall go down to Scotland on Saturday," she said, proclaiming her news not -in the most gracious manner. - -"That is if they let you go," said Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"What do you mean? Who is to prevent me?" - -"The police. I know all about it, Lady Eustace, and you need not look like -that. Lord George informs me that you will--probably be locked up to-day -or to-morrow." - -"Lord George is a story-teller. I don't believe he ever said so. And if he -did, he knows nothing about it." - -"He ought to know, considering all that you have made him suffer. That you -should have gone on with the necklace in your own box all the time, -letting people think that he had taken it, and accepting his attentions -all the while, is what I cannot understand! And however you were able to -look those people at Carlisle in the face, passes me! Of course, Lady -Eustace, you can't stay here after what has occurred." - -"I shall stay just as long as I like." - -"Poor, dear Lucinda! I do not wonder that she should be driven beyond -herself by so horrible a story. The feeling that she has been living all -this time in the same house with a woman who had deceived all the police-- -all the police--has been too much for her. I know it has been almost too -much for me." And yet, as Lizzie at once understood, Mrs. Carbuncle knew -nothing now which she had not known when she made her petition to be taken -to Portray. And this was the woman, too, who had borrowed her money last -week, whom she had entertained for months at Portray, and who had -pretended to be her bosom-friend. "You are quite right in getting off to -Scotland as soon as possible--if they will let you go," continued Mrs. -Carbuncle. "Of course you could not stay here. Up to Friday night it can -be permitted; but the servants had better wait upon you in your own -rooms." - -"How dare you talk to me in that way?" screamed Lizzie. - -"When a woman has committed perjury," said Mrs. Carbuncle, holding up both -her hands in awe and grief, "nothing too bad can possibly be said to her. -You are amenable to the outraged laws of the country, and it is my belief -that they can keep you upon the treadmill and bread and water for months -and months, if not for years." Having pronounced this terrible sentence, -Mrs. Carbuncle stalked out of the room. "That they can sequester your -property for your creditors I know," she said, returning for a moment and -putting her head within the door. - -The carriage was ready, and it was time for Lizzie to start if she -intended to keep her appointment with Mr. Camperdown. She was much -flustered and weakened by Mrs. Carbuncle's ill-usage, and had difficulty -in restraining herself from tears. And yet what the woman had said was -false from beginning to end. The maid who was the successor of Patience -Crabstick was to accompany her, and as she passed through the hall she so -far recovered herself as to be able to conceal her dismay from the -servants. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXII - -LIZZIE'S TRIUMPHS - - -Reports had, of course, reached Mr. Camperdown of the true story of the -Eustace diamonds. He had learned that the Jew jeweller had made a -determined set at them, having in the first place hired housebreakers to -steal them at Carlisle, and having again hired the same housebreakers to -steal them from the house in Hertford Street, as soon as he knew that Lady -Eustace had herself secreted them. By degrees this information had reached -him, but not in a manner to induce him to declare himself satisfied with -the truth. But now Lady Eustace was coming to him--as he presumed, to -confess everything. - -When he first heard that the diamonds had been stolen at Carlisle, he was -eager, with Mr. Eustace, in contending that the widow's liability in -regard to the property was not at all the less because she had managed to -lose it through her own pig-headed obstinacy. He consulted his trusted -friend, Mr. Dove, on the occasion, making out another case for the -barrister, and Mr. Dove had opined that if it could be first proved that -the diamonds were the property of the estate and not of Lady Eustace, and -afterwards proved that they had been stolen through her laches, then could -the Eustace estate recover the value from her estate. As she had carried -the diamonds about with her in an absurd manner, her responsibility might -probably be established; but the non-existence of ownership by her must be -first declared by a Vice-Chancellor, with probability of appeal to the -Lords Justices and to the House of Lords. A bill in Chancery must be -filed, in the first place, to have the question of ownership settled; and -then, should the estate be at length declared the owner, restitution of -the property which had been lost through the lady's fault must be sought -at common law. - -That had been the opinion of the Turtle Dove, and Mr. Camperdown had at -once submitted to the law of his great legal mentor. But John Eustace had -positively declared when he heard it that no more money should be thrown -away in looking after property which would require two lawsuits to -establish, and which when established might not be recovered. "How can we -make her pay ten thousand pounds? She might die first," said John Eustace ---and Mr. Camperdown had been forced to yield. Then came the second -robbery, and gradually there was spread about a report that the diamonds -had been in Hertford Street all the time; that they had not been taken at -Carlisle, but certainly had been stolen at last. - -Mr. Camperdown was again in a fever, and again had recourse to Mr. Dove -and to John Eustace. He learned from the police all that they would tell -him, and now the whole truth was to be divulged to him by the chief -culprit herself. For to the mind of Mr. Camperdown the two housebreakers, -and Patience Crabstick, and even Mr. Benjamin himself, were white as snow -compared with the blackness of Lady Eustace. In his estimation no -punishment could be too great for her, and yet he began to understand that -she would escape scot-free! Her evidence would be needed to convict the -thieves, and she could not be prosecuted for perjury when once she had -been asked for her evidence. - -"After all, she has only told a fib about her own property," said the -Turtle Dove. - -"About property not her own," replied Mr. Camperdown stoutly. - -"Her own till the contrary shall have been proved; her own for all -purposes of defence before a jury, if she were prosecuted now. Were she -tried for the perjury, your attempt to obtain possession of the diamonds -would be all so much in her favour." With infinite regrets, Mr. Camperdown -began to perceive that nothing could be done to her. - -But she was to come to him and let him know, from her own lips, facts of -which nothing more than rumour had yet reached him. He had commenced his -bill in Chancery, and had hitherto stayed proceedings simply because it -had been reported--falsely, as it now appeared--that the diamonds had been -stolen at Carlisle. Major Mackintosh, in his desire to use Lizzie's -evidence against the thieves, had recommended her to tell the whole truth -openly to those who claimed the property on behalf of her husband's -estate; and now, for the first time in her life, this odious woman was to -visit him in his own chambers. - -He did not think it expedient to receive her alone. He consulted his -mentor, Mr. Dove, and his client, John Eustace, and the latter consented -to be present. It was suggested to Mr. Dove that he might, on so peculiar -an occasion as this, venture to depart from the established rule, and -visit the attorney on his own quarter-deck; but he smiled, and explained -that, though he was altogether superior to any such prejudice as that, and -would not object at all to call on his friend, Mr. Camperdown, could any -good effect arise from his doing so, he considered that were he to be -present on this occasion he would simply assist in embarrassing the poor -lady. - -On this very morning, while Mrs. Carbuncle was abusing Lizzie in Hertford -Street, John Eustace and Mr. Camperdown were in Mr. Dove's chambers, -whither they had gone to tell him of the coming interview. The Turtle Dove -was sitting back in his chair, with his head leaning forward as though it -were going to drop from his neck, and the two visitors were listening to -his words. "Be merciful, I should say," suggested the barrister. John -Eustace was clearly of opinion that they ought to be merciful. Mr. -Camperdown did not look merciful. "What can you get by harassing the poor, -weak, ignorant creature?" continued Mr. Dove. "She has hankered after her -bauble, and has told falsehoods in her efforts to keep it. Have you never -heard of older persons, and more learned persons, and persons nearer to -ourselves, who have done the same?" At that moment there was presumed to -be great rivalry, not unaccompanied by intrigue, among certain leaders of -the learned profession, with reference to various positions of high honour -and emolument, vacant or expected to be vacant. A Lord Chancellor was -about to resign, and a Lord Justice had died. Whether a somewhat unpopular -Attorney-General should be forced to satisfy himself with the one place, -or allowed to wait for the other, had been debated in all the newspapers. -It was agreed that there was a middle course in reference to a certain -second-class chief-justiceship--only that the present second-class chief- -justice objected to shelving himself. There existed considerable jealousy, -and some statements had been made which were not, perhaps, strictly -founded on fact. It was understood both by the attorney and by the member -of Parliament that the Turtle Dove was referring to these circumstances -when he spoke of baubles and falsehoods, and of learned persons near to -themselves. He himself had hankered after no bauble, but, as is the case -with many men and women who are free from such hankerings, he was hardly -free from that dash of malice which the possession of such things in the -hands of others is so prone to excite. "Spare her," said Mr. Dove. "There -is no longer any material question as to the property, which seems to be -gone irrecoverably. It is, upon the whole, well for the world that -property so fictitious as diamonds should be subject to the risk of such -annihilation. As far as we are concerned, the property is annihilated, and -I would not harass the poor, ignorant young creature." - -As Eustace and the attorney walked across from the old to the new square, -the former declared that he quite agreed with Mr. Dove. "In the first -place, Mr. Camperdown, she is my brother's widow." Mr. Camperdown with -sorrow admitted the fact. "And she is the mother of the head of our -family. It should not be for us to degrade her; but rather to protect her -from degradation, if that be possible." - -"I heartily wish she had got her merits before your poor brother ever saw -her," said Mr. Camperdown. - -Lizzie, in her fears, had been very punctual; and when the two gentlemen -reached the door leading up to Mr. Camperdown's chambers, the carriage was -already standing there. Lizzie had come up the stairs and had been -delighted at hearing that Mr. Camperdown was out, and would be back in a -moment. She instantly resolved that it did not become her to wait. She had -kept her appointment, had not found Mr. Camperdown at home, and would be -off as fast as her carriage wheels could take her. But, unfortunately, -while with a gentle murmur she was explaining to the clerk how impossible -it was that she should wait for a lawyer who did not keep his own -appointment, John Eustace and Mr. Camperdown appeared upon the landing, -and she was at once convoyed into the attorney's particular room. - -Lizzie, who always dressed well, was now attired as became a lady of rank, -who had four thousand a year, and was the intimate friend of Lady Glencora -Palliser. When last she saw Mr. Camperdown she had been arrayed for a -long, dusty summer journey down to Scotland, and neither by her outside -garniture nor by her manner had she then been able to exact much -admiration. She had been taken by surprise in the street, and was -frightened. Now, in difficulty though she was, she resolved that she would -hold up her head and be very brave. She was a little taken aback when she -saw her brother-in-law, but she strove hard to carry herself with -confidence. - -"Ah, John," she said, "I did not expect to find you with Mr. Camperdown." - -"I thought it best that I should be here, as a friend," he said. - -"It makes it much pleasanter for me, of course," said Lizzie. "I am not -quite sure that Mr. Camperdown will allow me to regard him as a friend." - -"You have never had any reason to regard me as your enemy, Lady Eustace," -said Mr. Camperdown. "Will you take a seat? I understand that you wish to -state the circumstances under which the Eustace family diamonds were -stolen while they were in your hands." - -"My own diamonds, Mr. Camperdown." - -"I cannot admit that for a moment, my lady." - -"What does it signify?" said Eustace. "The wretched stones are gone -forever; and whether they were, of right, the property of my sister-in-law -or of her son, cannot matter now." - -Mr. Camperdown was irritated and shook his head. It cut him to the heart -that everybody should take the part of the wicked, fraudulent woman who -had caused him such infinite trouble. Lizzie saw her opportunity, and was -bolder than ever. "You will never get me to acknowledge that they were not -my own," she said. "My husband gave them to me, and I know that they were -my own." - -"They have been stolen, at any rate," said the lawyer. - -"Yes; they have been stolen." - -"And now will you tell us how?" - -Lizzie looked round upon her brother-in-law and sighed. She had never yet -told the story in all its nakedness, although it had been three or four -times extracted from her by admission. She paused, hoping that questions -might be asked her which she could answer by easy monosyllables, but not a -word was uttered to help. - -"I suppose you know all about it," she said at last. - -"I know nothing about it," said Mr. Camperdown. - -"We heard that your jewel-case was taken out of your room at Carlisle and -broken open," said Eustace. - -"So it was. They broke into my room in the dead of night, when I was in -bed and fast asleep, and took the case away. When the morning came -everybody rushed into my room, and I was so frightened that I did not know -what I was doing. How would your daughter bear it if two men had cut away -the locks and got into her bedroom when she was asleep? You don't think -about that at all." - -"And where was the necklace?" asked Eustace. - -Lizzie remembered that her friend the major had specially advised her to -tell the whole truth to Mr. Camperdown, suggesting that by doing so she -would go far toward saving herself from any prosecution. - -"It was under my pillow," she whispered. - -"And why did you not tell the magistrate that it had been under your -pillow?" - -Mr. Camperdown's voice, as he put to her this vital question, was severe, -and almost justified the little burst of sobs which came forth as a -prelude to Lizzie's answer. "I did not know what I was doing. I don't know -what you expect from me. You had been persecuting me ever since Sir -Florian's death, about the diamonds, and I didn't know what I was to do. -They were my own, and I thought I was not obliged to tell everybody where -I kept them. There are things which nobody tells. If I were to ask you all -your secrets would you tell them? When Sir Walter Scott was asked whether -he wrote the novels, he didn't tell." - -"He was not upon his oath, Lady Eustace." - -"He did take his oath, ever so many times. I don't know what difference an -oath makes. People ain't obliged to tell their secrets, and I wouldn't -tell mine." - -"The difference is, Lady Eustace; that if you give false evidence upon -oath, you commit perjury." - -"How was I to think of that, when I was so frightened and confused that I -didn't know where I was, or what I was doing? There--now I have told you -everything." - -"Not quite everything. The diamonds were not stolen at Carlisle, but they -were stolen afterwards. Did you tell the police what you had lost, or the -magistrate, after the robbery in Hertford Street?" - -"Yes; I did. There was some money taken, and rings, and other jewelry." - -"Did you tell them that the diamonds had been really stolen on that -occasion?" - -"They never asked me, Mr. Camperdown." - -"It is all as clear as a pikestaff, John," said the lawyer. - -"Quite clear, I should say," replied Mr. Eustace. - -"And I suppose I may go," said Lizzie, rising from her chair. - -There was no reason why she should not go; and, indeed, now that the -interview was over, there did not seem to be any reason why she should -have come. Though they had heard so much from her own mouth, they knew no -more than they had known before. The great mystery had been elucidated, -and Lizzie Eustace had been found to be the intriguing villain; but it was -quite clear, even to Mr. Camperdown, that nothing could be done to her. He -had never really thought that it would be expedient that she should be -prosecuted for perjury, and he now found that she must go utterly -scatheless, although, by her obstinacy and dishonesty, she had inflicted -so great a loss on the distinguished family which had taken her to its -bosom. - -"I have no reason for wishing to detain you, Lady Eustace," he said. "If I -were to talk forever, I should not, probably, make you understand the -extent of the injury you have done, or teach you to look in a proper light -at the position in which you have placed yourself. When your husband died, -good advice was given you, and given, I think, in a very kind way. You -would not listen to it, and you see the result." - -"I ain't a bit ashamed of anything," said Lizzie. - -"I suppose not," rejoined Mr. Camperdown. - -"Good-by, John." And Lizzie put out her hand to her brother-in-law. - -"Good-by, Lizzie." - -"Mr. Camperdown, I have the honour to wish you good-morning." Lizzie made -a low courtesy to the lawyer, and was then attended to her carriage by the -lawyer's clerk. She had certainly come forth from the interview without -fresh wounds. - -"The barrister who will have the cross-examining of her at the Central -Criminal Court," said Mr. Camperdown, as soon as the door was closed -behind her, "will have a job of work on his hands. There's nothing a -pretty woman can't do when she's got rid of all sense of shame." - -"She is a very great woman," said John Eustace, "a very great woman; and, -if the sex could have its rights, would make an excellent lawyer." In the -mean time Lizzie Eustace returned home to Hertford Street in triumph. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXIII - -LIZZIE'S LAST LOVER - - -Lizzie's interview with the lawyer took place on the Wednesday afternoon, -and, on her return to Hertford Street she found a note from Mrs. -Carbuncle. - -"I have made arrangements for dining out to-day, and shall not return till -after ten. I will do the same to-morrow, and on every day till you leave -town, and you can breakfast in your own room. Of course you will carry out -your plan for leaving this house on Monday. After what has passed, I shall -prefer not to meet you again. - -"J. C." - - And this was written by a woman who, but a few days since, had borrowed -£150 from her, and who at this moment had in her hands fifty pounds' worth -of silver-plate, supposed to have been given to Lucinda, and which clearly -ought to have been returned to the donor, when Luanda's marriage was -postponed--as the newspapers had said. Lucinda, at this time, had left the -house in Hertford Street, but Lizzie had not been informed whither she had -been taken. She could not apply to Lucinda for restitution of the silver, -which was, in fact, held at that moment by the Albemarle Street hotel- -keeper as part security for his debt; and she was quite sure that any -application to Mrs. Carbuncle for either the silver or the debt would be -unavailing. But she might, perhaps, cause annoyance by a letter, and -could, at any rate, return insult for insult. She therefore wrote to her -late friend. - -"MADAM: I certainly am not desirous of continuing an acquaintance into -which I was led by false representations, and in the course of which I -have been almost absurdly hospitable to persons altogether unworthy of my -kindness. Yourself and niece, and your especial friend, Lord George -Carruthers, and that unfortunate young man, your niece's lover, were -entertained at my country-house, as my guests, for some months. I am here, -in my own right, by arrangement; and, as I pay more than a proper share of -the expense of the establishment, I shall stay as long as I please, and go -when I please. - -"In the mean time, as we are about to part, certainly forever, I must beg -you at once to repay me the sum of £150, which you have borrowed from me; -and I must also insist on your letting me have back the present of silver -which was prepared for your niece's marriage. That you should retain it as -a perquisite for yourself cannot for a moment be thought of, however -convenient it might be to yourself. - -"Yours, etc., - -"E. EUSTACE." - -As far as the application for restitution went, or indeed in regard to the -insult, she might as well have written to a milestone. Mrs. Carbuncle was -much too strong, and had fought her battle with the world much too long, -to regard such word-pelting as that. She paid no attention to the note, -and as she had come to terms with the agent of the house by which she was -to evacuate it on the following Monday, a fact which was communicated to -Lizzie by the servant, she did not much regard Lizzie's threat to remain -there. She knew, moreover, that arrangements were already being made for -the journey to Scotland. - -Lizzie had come back from the attorney's chambers in triumph, and had been -triumphant when she wrote her note to Mrs. Carbuncle; but her elation was -considerably repressed by a short notice which she read in the fashionable -evening paper of the day. She always took the fashionable evening paper, -and had taught herself to think that life without it was impossible. But -on this afternoon she quarrelled with that fashionable evening paper -forever. The popular and well-informed organ of intelligence in question -informed its readers, that the Eustace diamonds--etc., etc. In fact, it -told the whole story; and then expressed a hope that, as the matter had -from the commencement been one of great interest to the public, who had -sympathised with Lady Eustace deeply as to the loss of her diamonds, Lady -Eustace would be able to explain that part of her conduct which certainly, -at present, was quite unintelligible. Lizzie threw the paper from her with -indignation, asking what right newspaper scribblers could have to -interfere with the private affairs of such persons as herself. - -But on this evening the question of her answer to Lord Fawn was the one -which most interested her. Lord Fawn had taken long in the writing of his -letter, and she was justified in taking what time she pleased in answering -it; but, for her own sake, it had better be answered quickly. She had -tried her hand at two different replies, and did not at all doubt but what -she would send the affirmative answer, if she were sure that these latter -discoveries would not alter Lord Fawn's decision. Lord Fawn had distinctly -told her that, if she pleased, he would marry her. She would please; -having been much troubled by the circumstances of the past six months. But -then, was it not almost a certainty that Lord Fawn would retreat from his -offer on learning the facts which were now so well known as to have been -related in the public papers? She thought that she would take one more -night to think of it. - -Alas; she took one night too many. On the next morning, while she was -still in bed, a letter was brought to her from Lord Fawn, dated from his -club the preceding evening. - -"Lord Fawn presents his compliments to Lady Eustace. Lady Eustace will be -kind enough to understand that Lord Fawn recedes altogether from the -proposition made by him in his letter to Lady Eustace dated March 28th -last. Should Lady Eustace think proper to call in question the propriety -of this decision on the part of Lord Fawn, she had better refer the -question to some friend, and Lord Fawn will do the same. Lord Fawn thinks -it best to express his determination, under no circumstances, to -communicate again personally with Lady Eustace on this subject, or, as far -as he can see at present, on any other." - -The letter was a blow to her, although she had felt quite certain that -Lord Fawn would have no difficulty in escaping from her hands as soon as -the story of the diamonds should be made public. It was a blow to her, -although she had assured herself a dozen times that a marriage with such a -one as Lord Fawn, a man who had not a grain of poetry in his composition, -would make her unutterably wretched. What escape would her heart have had -from itself in such a union? This question she had asked herself over and -over again, and there had been no answer to it. But then why had she not -been beforehand with Lord Fawn? Why had she not rejected his second offer -with the scorn which such an offer deserved? Ah, there was her misfortune; -there was her fault! - -But, with Lizzie Eustace, when she could not do a thing which it was -desirable that she should be known to have done, the next consideration -was whether she could not so arrange as to seem to have done it. The -arrival of Lord Fawn's note just as she was about to write to him was -unfortunate. But she would still write to him, and date her letter before -the time that his was dated. He probably would not believe her date. She -hardly ever expected to be really believed by anybody. But he would have -to read what she wrote; and writing on this pretence, she would avoid the -necessity of alluding to his last letter. - -Neither of the notes which she had by her quite suited the occasion, so -she wrote a third. The former letter in which she declined his offer was, -she thought, very charmingly insolent, and the allusion to his lordship's -scullion would have been successful, had it been sent on the moment, but -now a graver letter was required; and the graver letter, the date of -which, it will be observed, was the day previous to the morning on which -she had received Lord Fawn's last note, was as follows: - -"HERTFORD ST., Wednesday, April 3. - -"MY LORD: I have taken a week to answer the letter which your lordship has -done me the honour of writing to me, because I have thought it best to -have time for consideration in a matter of such importance. In this I have -copied your lordship's official caution. - -"I think I never read a letter so false, so unmanly, and so cowardly, as -that which you have found yourself capable of sending to me. - -"You became engaged to me when, as I admit with shame, I did not know your -character. You have since repudiated me and vilified my name, simply -because, having found that I had enemies, and being afraid to face them, -you wished to escape from your engagement. It has been cowardice from the -beginning to the end. Your whole conduct to me has been one long, -unprovoked insult, studiously concocted, because you have feared that -there might possibly be some trouble for you to encounter. Nobody ever -heard of anything so mean, either in novels or in real life. - -"And now you again offer to marry me--because you are again afraid. You -think you will be thrashed, I suppose, if you decline to keep your -engagement; and feel that if you offer to go on with it, my friends cannot -beat you. You need not be afraid. No earthly consideration would induce me -to be your wife. And if any friend of mine should look at you as though he -meant to punish you, you can show him this letter, and make him understand -that it is I who have refused to be your wife, and not you who have -refused to be my husband. - -"E. EUSTACE." - -This epistle Lizzie did send, believing she could add nothing to its -insolence, let her study it as she might. And she thought, as she read it -for the fifth time, that it sounded as though it had been written before -her receipt of the final note from himself, and that it would, therefore, -irritate him the more. - -This was to be the last week of her sojourn in town, and then she was to -go down and bury herself at Portray, with no other companionship than that -of the faithful Macnulty, who had been left in Scotland for the last three -months as nurse-in-chief to the little heir. She must go and give her -evidence before the magistrate on Friday, as to which she had already -received an odious slip of paper--but Frank would accompany her. Other -misfortunes had passed off so lightly that she hardly dreaded this. She -did not quite understand why she was to be so banished, and thought much -on the subject. She had submitted herself to Frank's advice when first she -had begun to fear that her troubles would be insuperable. Her troubles -were now disappearing; and, as for Frank--what was Frank to her, that she -should obey him? Nevertheless, her trunks were being already packed, and -she knew that she must go. He was to accompany her on her journey, and she -would still have one more chance with him. - -As she was thinking of all this, Mr. Emilius, the clergyman, was -announced. In her loneliness she was delighted to receive any visitor, and -she knew that Mr. Emilius would be at least courteous to her. When he had -seated himself, he at once began to talk about the misfortune of the -unaccomplished marriage, and in a very low voice hinted that from the -beginning to end there had been something wrong. He had always feared that -an alliance based on a footing that was so openly "pecuniary"--he declared -that the word pecuniary expressed his meaning better than any other -epithet--could not lead to matrimonial happiness. "We all know," said he, -"that our dear friend, Mrs. Carbuncle, had views of her own, quite -distinct from her niece's happiness. I have the greatest possible respect -for Mrs. Carbuncle, and I may say esteem; but it is impossible to live -long in any degree of intimacy with Mrs. Carbuncle without seeing that she -is--mercenary." - -"Mercenary! indeed she is," said Lizzie. - -"You have observed it? Oh, yes; it is so, and it casts a shadow over a -character which otherwise has so much to charm." - -"She is the most insolent and the most ungrateful woman that I ever heard -of!" exclaimed Lizzie with energy. Mr. Emilius opened his eyes, but did -not contradict her assertion. "As you have mentioned her name, Mr. -Emilius, I must tell you. I have done everything for that woman. You know -how I treated her down in Scotland." - -"With a splendid hospitality," said Mr. Emilius. - -"Of course she did not pay for anything there." - -"Oh, no!" The idea of any one being called upon to pay for what one ate -and drank at a friend's house was peculiarly painful to Mr. Emilius. - -"And I have paid for everything here. That is to say, we have made an -arrangement, very much in her favour. And she has borrowed large sums of -money from me." - -"I am not at all surprised at that," said Mr. Emilius. - -"And when that poor unfortunate girl, her niece, was to be married to poor -Sir Griffin Tewett, I gave her a whole service of plate." - -"What unparalleled generosity!" - -"Would you believe she has taken the whole for her own base purposes? And -then what do you think she has done?" - -"My dear Lady Eustace, hardly anything would astonish me." - -Lizzie suddenly found a difficulty in describing to her friend the fact -that Mrs. Carbuncle was endeavouring to turn her out of the house, without -also alluding to her own troubles about the robbery. "She has actually -told me," she continued, "that I must leave the house without a day's -warning. But I believe the truth is, that she has run so much into debt -that she cannot remain!" - -"I know that she is very much in debt, Lady Eustace." - -"But she owed me some civility. Instead of that, she has treated me with -nothing but insolence. And why, do you think? It is all because I would -not allow her to take that poor, insane young woman to Portray Castle." - -"You don't mean that she asked to go there?" - -"She did, though." - -"I never heard such impertinence in my life--never," said Mr. Emilius, -again opening his eyes and shaking his head. - -"She proposed that I should ask them both down to Portray, for--for--of -course it would have been almost forever. I don't know how I should have -got rid of them. And that poor young woman is mad, you know-quite mad. She -never recovered herself after that morning. Oh, what I have suffered about -that unhappy marriage, and the cruel, cruel way in which Mrs. Carbuncle -urged it on. Mr. Emilius, you can't conceive the scenes which have been -acted in this house during the last month. It has been dreadful! I -wouldn't go through such a time again for anything that could be offered -to me. It has made me so ill that I am obliged to go down to Scotland to -recruit my health." - -"I heard that you were going to Scotland, and I wished to have an -opportunity of saying just a word to you in private before you left." Mr. -Emilius had thought a good deal about this interview, and had prepared -himself for it with considerable care. He knew, with tolerable accuracy, -the whole story of the necklace, having discussed it with Mrs. Carbuncle, -who, as the reader will remember, had been told the tale by Lord George. -He was aware of the engagement with Lord Fawn, and of the growing intimacy -which had existed between Lord George and Lizzie. He had been watchful, -diligent, patient, and had at last become hopeful. When he learned that -his beloved was about to start for Scotland, he felt that it would be well -that he should strike a blow before she went. As to a journey down to -Ayrshire, that would be nothing to one so enamoured as was Mr. Emilius; -and he would not scruple to show himself at the castle door without -invitation. Whatever may have been his deficiencies, Mr. Emilius did not -lack the courage needed to carry such an enterprise as this to a happy -conclusion. As far as pluck and courage might serve a man, he was well -served by his own gifts. He could, without a blush, or a quiver in his -voice, have asked a duchess to marry him, with ten times Lizzie's income. -He had now considered deeply whether, with the view of prevailing, it -would be better that he should allude to the lady's trespasses in regard -to the diamonds, or that he should pretend to be in ignorance; and he had -determined that ultimate success might, with most probability, be achieved -by a bold declaration of the truth. "I know how desperately you must be in -want of some one to help you through your troubles, and I know also that -your grand lovers will avoid you because of what you have done, and -therefore you had better take me at once. Take me, and I'll bring you -through everything. Refuse me, and I'll crush you." Such were the -arguments which Mr. Emilius had determined to use, and such the language-- -of course with some modifications. He was now commencing his work, and was -quite resolved to leave no stone unturned in carrying it to a successful -issue. He drew his chair nearer to Lizzie as he announced his desire for a -private interview, and leaned over towards her with his two hands closed -together between his knees. He was a dark, hookey-nosed, well-made man, -with an exuberance of greasy hair, who would have been considered handsome -by many women had there not been something, almost amounting to a squint, -amiss with one of his eyes. When he was preaching it could hardly be seen, -but in the closeness of private conversation it was disagreeable. - -"Oh, indeed;" said Lizzie, with a look of astonishment, perfectly well- -assumed. She had already begun to consider whether, after all, Mr. -Emilius--would do. - -"Yes; Lady Eustace; it is so. You and I have known each other now for many -months, and I have received the most unaffected pleasure from the -acquaintance, may I not say from the intimacy, which has sprung up between -us?" Lizzie did not forbid the use of the pleasant word, but merely bowed. -"I think that as a devoted friend and a clergyman, I shall not be thought -to be intruding on private ground in saying that circumstances have made -me aware of the details of the robberies by which you have been so cruelly -persecuted." So the man had come about the diamonds and not to make an -offer! Lizzie raised her eyebrows, and bowed her head with the slightest -possible motion. "I do not know how far your friends or the public may -condemn you, but----" - -"My friends don't condemn me at all, sir." - -"I am so glad to hear it!" - -"Nobody has dared to condemn me except this impudent woman here, who wants -an excuse for not paying me what she owes me." - -"I am delighted. I was going to explain that although I am aware you have -infringed the letter of the law, and made yourself liable to proceedings -which may, perhaps, be unpleasant----" - -"I ain't liable to anything unpleasant at all, Mr. Emilius." - -"Then my mind is greatly relieved. I was about to remark, having heard in -the outer world that there were those who ventured to accuse you of--of -perjury----" - -"Nobody has dared to accuse me of anything. What makes you come here and -say such things?" - -"Ah, Lady Eustace. It is because these calumnies are spoken so openly -behind your back." - -"Who speaks them? Mrs. Carbuncle and Lord George Carruthers, my enemies." - -Mr. Emilius was beginning to feel that he was not making progress. "I was -on the point of observing to you that, according to the view of the matter -which I as a clergyman have taken, you were altogether justified in the -steps which you took for the protection of property which was your own, -but which had been attacked by designing persons." - -"Of course I was justified," said Lizzie. - -"You know best, Lady Eustace, whether any assistance I can offer will -avail you anything." - -"I don't want any assistance, Mr. Emilius, thank you." - -"I certainly have been given to understand that they who ought to stand by -you with the closest devotion have, in this period of what I may, perhaps, -call--tribulation, deserted your side with cold selfishness." - -"But there isn't any tribulation, and nobody has deserted my side." - -"I was told that Lord Fawn----" - -"Lord Fawn is an idiot." - -"Quite so; no doubt." - -"And I have deserted him. I wrote to him this very morning in answer to a -pressing letter from him to renew our engagement, to tell him that that -was out of the question. I despise Lord Fawn, and my heart never can be -given where my respect does not accompany it." - -"A noble sentiment, Lady Eustace, which I reciprocate completely. And now, -to come to what I may call the inner purport of my visit to you this -morning--the sweet cause of my attendance on you--let me assure you that I -should not now offer you my heart unless with my heart went the most -perfect respect and esteem which any man ever felt for a woman." Mr. -Emilius had found the necessity of coming to the point by some direct -road, as the lady had refused to allow him to lead up to it in the manner -he had proposed to himself. He still thought that what he had said might -be efficacious, as he did not for a moment believe her assertions as to -her own friends and the nonexistence of any trouble as to the oaths which -she had falsely sworn; but she carried the matter with a better courage -than he had expected to find, and drove him out of his intended line of -approach. He had, however, seized his opportunity without losing much -time. - -"What on earth do you mean, Mr. Emilius?" - -"I mean to lay my heart, my hand, my fortunes, my profession, my career at -your feet. I make bold to say of myself that I have, by my own unaided -eloquence and intelligence, won for myself a great position in this -swarming metropolis. Lady Eustace, I know your great rank. I feel your -transcendent beauty, ah, too acutely. I have been told that you are rich; -but I, myself, who venture to approach you as a suitor for your hand, am -also somebody in the world. The blood that runs in my veins is as -illustrious as your own, having descended to me from the great and ancient -nobles of my native country. The profession which I have adopted is the -grandest which ever filled the heart of man with aspirations. I have -barely turned my thirty-second year, and I am known as the greatest -preacher of my day, though I preach in a language which is not my own. -Your House of Lords would be open to me as a spiritual peer would I -condescend to come to terms with those who crave the assistance which I -could give them. I can move the masses. I can touch the hearts of men. And -in this great assemblage of mankind which you call London, I can choose my -own society, among the highest of the land. Lady Eustace, will you share -with me my career and my fortunes? I ask you because you are the only -woman whom my heart has stooped to love." - -The man was a nasty, greasy, lying, squinting Jew preacher; an impostor, -over forty years of age, whose greatest social success had been achieved -when, through the agency of Mrs. Carbuncle, he made his way into Portray -Castle. He was about as near an English mitre as had been that great man -of a past generation, the Deputy Shepherd. He was a creature to loathe, -because he was greasy and a liar and an impostor. But there was a certain -manliness in him. He was not afraid of the woman; and in pleading his -cause with her he could stand up for himself courageously. He had studied -his speech, and having studied it he knew how to utter the words. He did -not blush nor stammer nor cringe. Of grandfather or grandmother belonging -to himself he had probably never heard, but he could so speak of his noble -ancestors as to produce belief in Lizzie's mind; and almost succeeded in -convincing her that he was, by the consent of mankind, the greatest -preacher of the day. While he was making his speech she almost liked his -squint. She certainly liked the grease and nastiness. Presuming, as she -naturally did, that something of what he said was false, she liked the -lies. There was a dash of poetry about him; and poetry, as she thought, -was not compatible, with humdrum truth. A man, to be a man in her eyes, -should be able to swear that all his geese are swans; should be able to -reckon his swans by the dozen, though he have not a feather belonging to -him, even from a goose's wing. She liked his audacity; and then when he -was making love he was not afraid of talking out boldly about his heart. -Nevertheless he was only Mr. Emilius the clergyman; and she had means of -knowing that his income was not generous. Though she admired his manner -and his language, she was quite aware that he was in pursuit of her money; -and, from the moment in which she first understood his object, she was -resolved that she would never become the wife of Mr. Emilius as long as -there was a hope as to Frank Greystock. - -"I was told, Mr. Emilius," she said, "that you, some time since, had a -wife." - -"It was a falsehood, Lady Eustace. From motives of pure charity I gave a -home to a distant cousin. I was then in a land of strangers, and my life -was misinterpreted. I made no complaint, but sent the lady back to her -native country. My compassion could supply her wants there as well as -here." - -"Then you still support her?" - -Mr. Emilius, thinking there might be danger in asserting that he was -subject to such an encumbrance, replied, "I did do so, till she found a -congenial home as the wife of an honest man." - -"Oh, indeed. I'm quite glad to hear that." - -"And now, Lady Eustace, may I venture to hope for a favourable answer?" - -Upon this, Lizzie made him a speech as long, and almost as well-turned, as -her own. Her heart had of late been subject to many vicissitudes. She had -lost the dearest husband that a woman had ever worshipped. She had -ventured, for purposes with reference to her child, which she could not -now explain, to think once again of matrimony with a person of high rank, -who had turned out to be unworthy of her. She had receded (Lizzie, as she -said this, acted the part of receding, with a fine expression of scornful -face) and after that she was unwilling to entertain any further idea of -marriage. Upon hearing this, Mr. Emilius bowed low, and before the street -door was closed against him had begun to calculate how much a journey to -Scotland would cost him. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXIV - -LIZZIE AT THE POLICE-COURT - - -On the Wednesday and Thursday Lizzie had been triumphant; for she had -certainly come out unscathed from Mr. Camperdown's chambers, and a lady -may surely be said to triumph when a gentleman lays his hand, his heart, -his fortunes, and all that he has got, at her feet; but when the Friday -came, though she was determined to be brave, her heart did sink within her -bosom. She understood well that she would be called upon to admit in -public the falseness of the oaths she had sworn upon two occasions; and -that, though she would not be made amenable to any absolute punishment for -her perjury, she would be subject to very damaging remarks from the -magistrate, and, probably, also from some lawyers employed to defend the -prisoners. She went to bed in fairly good spirits, but in the morning she -was cowed and unhappy. She dressed herself from head to foot in black, and -prepared for herself a heavy black veil. She had ordered from the livery- -stable a brougham for the occasion, thinking it wise to avoid the display -of her own carriage. She breakfasted early, and then took a large glass of -wine to support her. When Frank called for her, at a quarter to ten, she -was quite ready, and grasped his hand almost without a word. But she -looked into his face with her eyes filled with tears. - -"It will soon be over," he said. She pressed his hand, and made him a -sign, to show that she was ready to follow him to the door. "The case will -come on at once," he said, "so that you will not be kept waiting." - -"Oh, you are so good; so good to me." She pressed his arm, and did not -speak again till they reached the police-court. - -There was a great crowd about the office, which was in a little by-street, -and so circumstanced that Lizzie's brougham could hardly make its way up -to the door. But way was at once made for her when Frank handed her out of -it, and the policemen about the place were as courteous to her as though -she had been the Lord Chancellor's wife. Evil-doing will be spoken of with -bated breath and soft words even by policemen, when the evildoer comes in -a carriage and with a title. Lizzie was led at once into a private room, -and told that she would be kept there only a very few minutes. Frank made -his way into the court and found that two magistrates had just seated -themselves on the bench. One would have sufficed for the occasion; but -this was a case of great interest, and even police-magistrates are human -in their interests. Greystock was allowed to get round to the bench and -whisper a word or two to the gentleman who was to preside. The magistrate -nodded his head, and the case began. - -The unfortunate Mr. Benjamin had been sent back in durance vile from -Vienna, and was present in the court. With him, as joint malefactor, stood -Mr. Smiler, the great housebreaker, a huge, ugly, resolute-looking -scoundrel, possessed of enormous strength, who was very intimately known -to the police, with whom he had had various dealings since he had been -turned out upon the town to earn his bread some fifteen years before. -Indeed, long before that he had known the police--as far as his memory -went back he had always known them. But the sportive industry of his -boyish years was not now counted up against him. In the last fifteen years -his biography had been written with all the accuracy due to the -achievements of a great man; and during those hundred and eighty months he -had spent over one hundred in prison, and had been convicted twenty-three -times. He was now growing old, as a thief, and it was thought by his -friends that he would be settled for life in some quiet retreat. Mr. -Benjamin was a very respectable-looking man of about fifty, with slightly -grizzled hair, with excellent black clothes, and showing, by a surprised -air, his astonishment at finding himself in such a position. He spoke -constantly, both to his attorney and to the barrister who was to show -cause why he should not be committed, and throughout the whole morning was -very busy. Smiler, who was quite at home, and who understood his position, -never said a word to any one. He stood, perfectly straight, looking at the -magistrate, and never for a moment leaning on the rail before him during -the four hours that the case consumed. Once, when his friend, Billy Cann, -was brought into court to give evidence against him, dressed up to the -eyes, serene and sleek, as when we saw him once before at the "Rising -Sun," in Meek Street, Smiler turned a glance upon him which, to the eyes -of all present, contained a threat of most bloody revenge. But Billy knew -the advantages of his situation, and nodded at his old comrade, and -smiled. His old comrade was very much stronger than he, and possessed of -many natural advantages; but, perhaps, upon the whole, his old comrade had -been the less intelligent thief of the two. It was thus that the by- -standers read the meaning of Billy's smile. - -The case was opened very shortly and very clearly by the gentleman who was -employed for the prosecution. It would all, he said, have lain in a nut- -shell, had it not been complicated by a previous robbery at Carlisle. Were -it necessary, he said, there would be no difficulty in convicting the -prisoners for that offence also, but it had been thought advisable to -confine the prosecution to the act of burglary committed in Hertford -Street. He stated the facts of what had happened at Carlisle, merely for -explanation, but would state nothing that could not be proven. Then he -told all that the reader knows about the iron box. But the diamonds were -not then in the box; and he told that story also, treating Lizzie with -great tenderness as he did so. Lizzie, all this time, was sitting behind -her veil in the private room, and did not hear a word of what was going -on. Then he came to the robbery in Hertford Street. He would prove by Lady -Eustace that the diamonds were left by her in a locked desk, were so -deposited, though all her friends believed them to have been taken at -Carlisle; and he would, moreover, prove by accomplices that they were -stolen by two men, the younger prisoner at the bar being one of them, and -the witness who would be adduced, the other; that they were given up by -these men to the elder prisoner, and that a certain sum had been paid by -him for the execution of the two robberies. There was much more of it; but -to the reader, who knows all, it would be but a thrice-told tale. He then -said that he first proposed to take the evidence of Lady Eustace, the lady -who had been in possession of the diamonds when they were stolen. Then -Frank Greystock left the court, and returned with poor Lizzie on his arm. - -She was handed to a chair, and, after she was sworn, was told that she -might sit down; but she was requested to remove her veil, which she had -replaced as soon as she had kissed the book. The first question asked her -was very easy. Did she remember the night at Carlisle? Would she tell the -history of what occurred on that night? When the box was stolen, were the -diamonds in it? No; she had taken the diamonds out for security, and had -kept them under her pillow. Then came a bitter moment, in which she had to -confess her perjury before the Carlisle bench; but even that seemed to -pass off smoothly. The magistrate asked one severe question. - -"Do you mean to say, Lady Eustace, that you gave false evidence on that -occasion, knowing it to be false?" - -"I was in such a state, sir, from fear, that I did not know what I was -saying," exclaimed Lizzie, bursting into tears, and stretching forth -toward the bench her two clasped hands with the air of a suppliant. - -From that moment the magistrate was altogether on her side, and so were -the public. Poor, ignorant, ill-used young creature; and then so lovely! -That was the general feeling. But she had not as yet come beneath the -harrow of that learned gentleman on the other side, whose best talents -were due to Mr. Benjamin. Then she told all she knew about the other -robbery. She certainly had not said, when examined on that occasion, that -the diamonds had then been taken. She had omitted to name the diamonds in -her catalogue of the things stolen; but she was sure that she had never -said that they were not then taken. She had said nothing about the -diamonds, knowing them to be her own, and preferring to lose them, to the -trouble of again referring to the night at Carlisle. Such was her evidence -for the prosecution, and then she was turned over to the very learned and -very acute gentleman whom Mr. Benjamin had hired for his defence, or -rather, to show cause why he should not be sent for trial. - -It must be owned that poor Lizzie did receive from his hands some of that -punishment which she certainly deserved. This acute and learned gentleman -seemed to possess for the occasion the blandest and most dulcet voice that -ever was bestowed upon an English barrister. He addressed Lady Eustace -with the softest words, as though he hardly dared to speak to a woman so -eminent for wealth, rank, and beauty; but nevertheless he asked her some -very disagreeable questions. - -"Was he to understand that she went of her own will before the bench of -magistrates at Carlisle, with the view of enabling the police to capture -certain persons for stealing certain jewels, while she knew that the -jewels were actually in her own possession?" - -Lizzie, confounded by the softness of his voice as joined to the harshness -of the question, could hardly understand him, and he repeated it thrice, -becoming every time more and more mellifluous. "Yes," said Lizzie at last. - -"Yes?" he asked. - -"Yes," said Lizzie. - -"Your ladyship did send the Cumberland police after men for stealing -jewels which were in your ladyship's own hands when you swore the -information?" - -"Yes," said Lizzie. - -"And your ladyship knew that the information was untrue?" - -"Yes," said Lizzie. - -"And the police were pursuing the men for many weeks?" - -"Yes," said Lizzie. - -"On your information?" - -"Yes," said Lizzie, through her tears. - -"And your ladyship knew, all the time, that the poor men were altogether -innocent of taking the jewels?" - -"But they took the box," said Lizzie, through her tears. - -"Yes," said the acute and learned gentleman, "somebody took your -ladyship's iron box out of the room, and you swore that the diamonds had -been taken. Was it not the fact that legal proceedings were being taken -against you for the recovery of the diamonds by persons who claimed the -property?" - -"Yes," said Lizzie. - -"And these persons withdrew their proceedings as soon as they heard that -the diamonds had been stolen?" - -Soft as he was in his manner, he nearly reduced Lizzie Eustace to -fainting. It seemed to her that the questions would never end. It was in -vain that the magistrate pointed out to the learned gentleman that Lady -Eustace had confessed her own false swearing, both at Carlisle and in -London, a dozen times, for he continued his questions over and over again, -harping chiefly on the affair at Carlisle, and saying very little as to -the second robbery in Hertford Street. His idea was to make it appear that -Lizzie had arranged the robbery with the view of defrauding Mr. -Camperdown, and that Lord George Carruthers, was her accomplice. He even -asked her, almost in a whisper, and with the sweetest smile, whether she -was not engaged to marry Lord George. When Lizzie denied this, he still -suggested that some such alliance might be in contemplation. Upon this. -Frank Greystock called upon the magistrate to defend Lady Eustace from -such unnecessary vulgarity, and there was a scene in the court. Lizzie did -not like the scene, but it helped to protect her from the contemplation of -the public, who, of course, were much gratified by high words between two -barristers. Lady Eustace was forced to remain in the private room during -the examination of Patience Crabstick and Mr. Cann, and so did not hear -it. Patience was a most obdurate and difficult witness--extremely averse -to say evil of herself, and on that account unworthy of the good things -which she had received. But Billy Cann was charming--graceful, -communicative, and absolutely accurate. There was no shaking him. The -learned and acute gentleman who tried to tear him in pieces could do -nothing with him. He was asked whether he had not been a professional -thief for ten years. - -"Ten or twelve," said he. - -"Did he expect that any juryman would believe him on his oath?" - -"Not unless I am fully corroborated." - -"Can you look that man in the face--that man who is at any rate so much -honester than yourself?" asked the learned gentleman with pathos. Billy -said that he thought he could, and the way in which he smiled upon Smiler -caused a roar through the whole court. - -The two men were, as a matter of course, committed for trial at the -Central Criminal Court, and Lizzie Eustace was bound by certain penalties -to come forward when called upon, and give her evidence again. - -"I am glad that it is over," said Frank, as he left her at Mrs. -Carbuncle's hall door. - -"Oh, Frank, dearest Frank, where should I be if it were not for you?" - - - - -CHAPTER LXXV - -LORD GEORGE GIVES HIS REASONS - - -Lady Eustace did not leave the house during the Saturday and Sunday, and -engaged herself exclusively with preparing for her journey. She had no -further interview with Mrs. Carbuncle, but there were messages between -them, and even notes were written. They resulted in nothing. Lizzie was -desirous of getting back the spoons and forks, and, if possible, some of -her money. The spoons and forks were out of Mrs. Carbuncle's power--in -Albemarle Street--and the money had, of course, been spent. Lizzie might -have saved herself the trouble, had it not been that it was a pleasure to -her to insult her late friend, even though, in doing so, new insults were -heaped upon her own head. As for the trumpery spoons, they--so said Mrs. -Carbuncle--were the property of Miss Roanoke, having been made over to -her, unconditionally, long before the wedding, as a part of a separate -pecuniary transaction. Mrs. Carbuncle had no power of disposing of Miss -Roanoke's property. As to the money which Lady Eustace claimed, Mrs. -Carbuncle asserted that, when the final accounts should be made up between -them, it would be found that there was a considerable balance due to Mrs. -Carbuncle; but even were there anything due to Lady Eustace, Mrs. -Carbuncle would decline to pay it, as she was informed that all moneys -possessed by Lady Eustace were now confiscated to the Crown by reasons of -the PERJURIES--the word was doubly scored in Mrs. Carbuncle's note--which -Lady Eustace had committed. This, of course, was unpleasant; but Mrs. -Carbuncle did not have the honours of the battle all to herself. Lizzie -also said some unpleasant things which, perhaps, were the more unpleasant -because they were true. Mrs. Carbuncle had come pretty nearly to the end -of her career, whereas Lizzie's income, in spite of her perjuries, was -comparatively untouched. The undoubted mistress of Portray Castle, and -mother of the Sir Florian Eustace of the day, could still despise and look -down upon Mrs. Carbuncle, although she were known to have told fibs about -the family diamonds. - -Lord George always came to Hertford Street on a Sunday, and Lady Eustace -left word for him, with the servant, that she would be glad to see him -before her journey into Scotland. "Goes to-morrow, does she?" said Lord -George to the servant. "Well, I'll see her." And he was shown up to her -room before he went to Mrs. Carbuncle. - -Lizzie, in sending for him, had some half-formed idea of a romantic -farewell. The man, she thought, had behaved very badly to her; had -accepted very much from her hands, and had refused to give her anything in -return; had become the first repository of her great secret, and had -placed no mutual confidence in her. He had been harsh to her, and unjust; -and then, too, he had declined to be in love with her! She was full of -spite against Lord George, and would have been glad to injure him; but, -nevertheless, there would be some excitement in a farewell, in which some -mock affection might be displayed--and she would have an opportunity of -abusing Mrs. Carbuncle. - -"So you are off to-morrow?" said Lord George, taking his place on the rug -before her fire, and looking down at her with his head a little on one -side. Lizzie's anger against the man chiefly arose from a feeling that he -treated her with all a Corsair's freedom without any of a Corsair's -tenderness. She could have forgiven the want of deferential manner, had -there been any devotion--but Lord George was both impudent and -indifferent. - -"Yes," she said. "Thank goodness, I shall get out of this frightful place -to-morrow, and soon have once more a roof of my own over my head. What an -experience I have had since I have been here!" - -"We have all had an experience," said Lord George, still looking at her -with that half-comic turn of his face--almost as though he were -investigating some curious animal of which so remarkable a specimen had -never before come under his notice. - -"No woman ever intended to show a more disinterested friendship than I -have done; and what has been my return?" - -"You mean to me--disinterested friendship to me?" And Lord George tapped -his breast lightly with his fingers. His head was still a little on one -side, and there was still the smile upon his face. - -"I was alluding particularly to Mrs. Carbuncle." - -"Lady Eustace, I cannot take charge of Mrs. Carbuncle's friendships. I -have enough to do to look after my own. If you have any complaint to make -against me, I will at least listen to it." - -"God knows I do not want to make complaints," said Lizzie, covering her -face with her hands. - -"They don't do much good--do they? It's better to take people as you find -'em, and then make the best of 'em. They're a queer lot, ain't they--the -sort of people one meets about in the world?" - -"I don't know what you mean by that, Lord George." - -"Just what you were saying when you talked of your experiences. These -experiences do surprise one. I have knocked about the world a great deal, -and would have almost said that nothing would surprise me. You are no more -than a child to me, but you have surprised me." - -"I hope I have not injured you, Lord George." - -"Do you remember how you rode to hounds the day your cousin took that -other man's horse? That surprised me." - -"Oh, Lord George, that was the happiest day of my life. How little -happiness there is for people!" - -"And when Tewett got that girl to say she'd marry him, the coolness with -which you bore all the abomination of it in your house--for people who -were nothing to you; that surprised me!" - -"I meant to be so kind to you all." - -"And when I found that you always travelled with ten thousand pounds' -worth of diamonds in a box, that surprised me very much. I thought that -you were a very dangerous companion." - -"Pray don't talk about the horrid necklace." - -"Then came the robbery, and you seemed to lose your diamonds without being -at all unhappy about them. Of course, we understand that now." On hearing -this, Lizzie smiled, but did not say a word. "Then I perceived that I--I -was supposed to be the thief. You--you yourself couldn't have suspected me -of taking the diamonds, because--because you'd got them, you know, all -safe in your pocket. But you might as well own the truth now. Didn't you -think that it was I who stole the box?" - -"I wish it had been you," said Lizzie laughing. - -"All that surprised me. The police were watching me every day as a cat -watches a mouse, and thought that they surely had got the thief when they -found that I had dealings with Benjamin. Well, you--you were laughing at -me in your sleeve all the time." - -"Not laughing, Lord George." - -"Yes, you were. You had got the kernel yourself, and thought that I had -taken all the trouble to crack the nut and had found myself with nothing -but the shell. Then, when you found you couldn't eat the kernel, that you -couldn't get rid of the swag without assistance, you came to me to help -you. I began to think then that you were too many for all of us. By Jove, -I did! Then I heard of the second robbery, and, of course, I thought you -had managed that too." - -"Oh, no," said Lizzie. - -"Unfortunately you didn't; but I thought you did. And you thought that I -had done it! Mr. Benjamin was too clever for us both, and now he is going -to have penal servitude for the rest of his life. I wonder who will be the -better of it all. Who'll have the diamonds at last?" - -"I do not in the least care. I hate the diamonds. Of course I would not -give them up, because they were my own." - -"The end seems to be that you have lost your property, and sworn ever so -many false oaths, and have brought all your friends into trouble, and have -got nothing by it. What was the good of being so clever?" - -"You need not come here to tease me, Lord George." - -"I came here because you sent for me. There's my poor friend Mrs. -Carbuncle, declares that all her credit is destroyed, and her niece unable -to marry, and her house taken away from her--all because of her connection -with you." - -"Mrs. Carbuncle is--is--is--. Oh, Lord George, don't you know what she -is?" - -"I know that Mrs. Carbuncle is in a very bad way, and that that girl has -gone crazy, and that poor Griff has taken himself off to Japan, and that I -am so knocked about that I don't know where to go; and somehow it seems -all to have come from your little manoeuvres. You see we have all of us -been made remarkable; haven't we?" - -"You are always remarkable, Lord George." - -"And it is all your doing. To be sure you have lost your diamonds for your -pains. I wouldn't mind it so much if anybody were the better for it. I -shouldn't have begrudged even Benjamin the pull, if he'd got it." - -He stood there, still looking down upon her, speaking with a sarcastic -submissive tone, and, as she felt, intending to be severe to her. Though -she believed that she hated him, she would have liked to get up some show -of an affectionate farewell; some scene, in which there might have been -tears, and tenderness, and poetry, and perhaps a parting caress; but with -his jeering words and sneering face, he was as hard as a rock. He was now -silent, but still looking down upon her as he stood motionless on the rug, -so that she was compelled to speak again. "I sent for you, Lord George, -because I did not like the idea of parting with you forever, without one -word of adieu." - -"You are going to tear yourself away, are you?" - -"I am going to Portray on Monday." - -"And never coming back any more? You'll be up here before the season is -over, with fifty more wonderful schemes in your little head. So Lord Fawn -is done with, is he?" - -"I have told Lord Fawn that nothing shall induce me ever to see him -again." - -"And cousin Frank?" - -"My cousin attends me down to Scotland." - -"Oh--h. That makes it altogether another thing. He attends you down to -Scotland, does he? Does Mr. Emilius go too?" - -"I believe you are trying to insult me, sir." - -"You can't expect but what a man should be a little jealous, when he has -been so completely cut out himself. There was a time, you know, when even -cousin Frank wasn't a better fellow than myself." - -"Much you thought about it, Lord George." - -"Well--I did. I thought about it a good deal, my lady. And I liked the -idea of it very much." Lizzie pricked up her ears. In spite of all his -harshness, could it be that he should be the Corsair still? "I am a -rambling, uneasy, ill-to-do sort of man, but still I thought about it. You -are pretty, you know--uncommonly pretty." - -"Don't, Lord George." - -"And I'll acknowledge that the income goes for much. I suppose that's real -at any rate?" - -"Well--I hope so. Of course it's real. And so is the prettiness, Lord -George--if there is any." - -"I never doubted that, Lady Eustace. But when it came to my thinking that -you had stolen the diamonds, and you thinking that I had stolen the -box----! I'm not a man to stand on trifles, but, by George! it wouldn't do -then." - -"Who wanted it to do?" said Lizzie. "Go away. You are very unkind to me. I -hope I may never see you again. I believe you care more for that odious -vulgar woman down-stairs than you do for anybody else in the world." - -"Ah, dear! I have known her for many years, Lizzie, and that both covers -and discovers many faults. One learns to know how bad one's old friends -are, but then one forgives them, because they are old friends." - -"You can't forgive me--because I'm bad, and only a new friend." - -"Yes, I will. I forgive you all, and hope you may do well yet. If I may -give you one bit of advice at parting, it is to caution you against being -clever when there is nothing to get by it." - -"I ain't clever at all," said Lizzie, beginning to whimper. - -"Good-by, my dear." - -"Good-by," said Lizzie. He took her hand in one of his; patted her on the -head with the other, as though she had been a child, and then left her. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXVI - -LIZZIE RETURNS TO SCOTLAND - - -Frank Greystock, the writer fears, will not have recommended himself to -those readers of this tale who think the part of lover to the heroine -should be always filled by a young man with heroic attributes. And yet the -young member for Bobsborough was by no means deficient in fine qualities, -and perhaps was quite as capable of heroism as the majority of barristers -and members of Parliament among whom he consorted, and who were to him the -world. A man born to great wealth may, without injury to himself or his -friends, do pretty nearly what he likes in regard to marriage, always -presuming that the wife he selects be of his own rank. He need not marry -for money, nor need he abstain from marriage because he can't support a -wife without money. And the very poor man, who has no pretension to rank -or standing, other than that which honesty may give him, can do the same. -His wife's fortune will consist in the labour of her hands, and in her -ability to assist him in his home. But between these there is a middle -class of men, who, by reason of their education, are peculiarly -susceptible to the charms of womanhood, but who literally cannot marry for -love, because their earnings will do no more than support themselves. As -to this special young man, it must be confessed that his earnings should -have done much more than that, but not the less did he find himself in a -position in which marriage with a penniless girl seemed to threaten him -and her with ruin. All his friends told Frank Greystock that he would be -ruined were he to marry Lucy Morris; and his friends were people supposed -to be very good and wise. The dean and the dean's wife, his father and -mother, were very clear that it would be so. Old Lady Linlithgow had -spoken of such a marriage as quite out of the question. The Bishop of -Bobsborough, when it was mentioned in his hearing, had declared that such -a marriage would be a thousand pities. And even dear old Lady Fawn, though -she wished it for Lucy's sake, had many times prophesied that such a thing -was quite impossible. When the rumour of the marriage reached Lady -Glencora, Lady Glencora told her friend Madame Max Goesler that that young -man was going to blow his brains out. To her thinking the two actions were -equivalent. It is only when we read of such men that we feel that truth to -his sweetheart is the first duty of man. I am afraid that it is not the -advice which we give to our sons. - -But it was the advice which Frank Greystock had most persistently given to -himself since he had first known Lucy Morris. Doubtless he had vacillated, -but on the balance of his convictions as to his own future conduct he had -been much nobler than his friends. He had never hesitated for a moment as -to the value of Lucy Morris. She was not beautiful. She had no wonderful -gifts of nature. There was nothing of a goddess about her. She was -absolutely penniless. She had never been what the world calls well- -dressed. And yet she had been everything to him. There had grown up a -sympathy between them quite as strong on his part as on hers, and he had -acknowledged it to himself. He had never doubted his own love, and when he -had been most near to convincing himself that in his peculiar position he -ought to marry his rich cousin because of her wealth, then, at those -moments, he had most strongly felt that to have Lucy Morris close to him -was the greatest charm in existence. Hitherto his cousin's money, joined -to flatteries and caresses--which if a young man can resist he is almost -more than a young man--had tempted him; but he had combated the -temptation. On one memorable evening his love for Lucy had tempted him. To -that temptation he had yielded, and the letter by which he became engaged -to her had been written. He had never meant to evade it; had always told -himself that it should not be evaded; but gradually days had been added to -days, and months to months, and he had allowed her to languish without -seeing him, and almost without hearing from him. - -She too had heard from all sides that she was deserted by him, and she had -written to him to give him back his troth; but she had not sent her -letters. She did not doubt that the thing was over--she hardly doubted; -and yet she would not send any letter. Perhaps it would be better that the -matter should be allowed to drop without any letter-writing. She would -never reproach him, though she would ever think him to be a traitor. Would -not she have starved herself for him? Could she so have served him? And -yet he could bear for her sake no touch of delay in his prosperity! Would -she not have been content to wait, and always to wait, so that he, with -some word of love, would have told her that he waited also? But he would -not only desert her, but would give himself to that false, infamous woman, -who was so wholly unfitted to be his wife. For Lucy, though to herself she -would call him a traitor, and would think him to be a traitor, still -regarded him as the best of mankind; as one who, in marrying such a one as -Lizzie Eustace, would destroy all his excellence, as a man might mar his -strength and beauty by falling into a pit. For Lizzie Eustace Lucy Morris -had now no forgiveness. Lucy had almost forgotten Lizzie's lies, and her -preferred bribe, and all her meanness, when she made that visit to -Hertford Street. Then when Lizzie claimed this man as her lover, a full -remembrance of all the woman's iniquities came back on Lucy's mind. The -statement that Lizzie then made Lucy did believe. She did think that -Frank, her Frank, the man whom she worshipped, was to take this harpy to -his bosom as his wife; and if it were to be so, was it not better that she -should be so told? But from that moment poor Lizzie's sins were ranker to -Lucy Morris than even to Mr. Camperdown or Mrs. Hittaway. She could not -refrain from saying a word even to old Lady Linlithgow. The countess had -called her niece a little liar. - -"Liar!" said Lucy, "I do not think Satan himself can lie as she does." - -"Heighty-tighty," said the countess. "I suppose, then, there's to be a -match between Lady Satan and her cousin Frank?" - -"They can do as they like about that," said Lucy, walking out of the room. - -Then came the paragraph in the fashionable evening newspaper; after that, -the report of the examination before the magistrate; and then certain -information that Lady Eustace was about to proceed to Scotland together -with her cousin, Mr. Greystock, the Member for Bobsborough. "It is a large -income," said the countess, "but, upon my word, she's dear at the money." -Lucy did not speak, but she bit her lip till the blood ran into her mouth. -She was going down to Fawn Court almost immediately, to stay there with -her old friends till she should be able to find some permanent home for -herself. Once, and once only, would she endure discussion, and then the -matter should be banished forever from her tongue. - -Early on the appointed morning Frank Greystock, with a couple of cabs, was -at Mrs. Carbuncle's door in Hertford Street. Lizzie had agreed to start by -a very early train--at eight A. M.--so that she might get through to -Portray in one day. It had been thought expedient, both by herself and by -her cousin, that for the present there should be no more sleeping at the -Carlisle hotel. The robbery was probably still talked about in that -establishment; and the report of the proceedings at the police-court had -no doubt travelled as far north as the border city. It was to be a long -day, and could hardly be other than sad. Lizzie, understanding this, -feeling that, though she had been in a great measure triumphant over her -difficulties before the magistrate, she ought still to consider herself, -for a short while, as being under a cloud, crept down into the cab and -seated herself beside her cousin, almost without a word. She was again -dressed in black, and again wore the thick veil. Her maid, with the -luggage, followed them, and they were driven to Euston Square almost -without a word. On this occasion no tall footman accompanied them. "Oh, -Frank; dear Frank," she had said, and that was all. He had been active -about the luggage and useful in giving orders, but beyond his directions -and inquiries as to the journey he spoke not a word. Had she breakfasted? -Would she have a cup of tea at the station? Should he take any luncheon -for her? At every question she only looked into his face and shook her -head. All thoughts as to creature comforts were over with her now forever. -Tranquillity, a little poetry, and her darling boy, were all that she -needed for the short remainder of her sojourn upon earth. These were the -sentiments which she intended to convey when she shook her head and looked -up into his eyes. The world was over for her. She had had her day of -pleasure, and found how vain it was. Now she would devote herself to her -child. "I shall see my boy again to-night," she said, as she took her seat -in the carriage. - -Such was the state of mind, or such, rather, the resolutions, with which -she commenced her journey. Should he become bright, communicative, and -pleasant, or even tenderly silent, or perhaps, now at length, affectionate -and demonstrative, she no doubt might be able to change as he changed. He -had been cousinly but gloomy at the police-court; in the same mood when he -brought her home; and, as she saw with the first glance of her eye, in the -same mood again when she met him in the hall this morning. Of course she -must play his tunes. Is it not the fate of women to play the tunes which -men dictate, except in some rare case in which the woman can make herself -the dictator? Lizzie loved to be a dictator; but at the present moment she -knew that circumstances were against her. - -She watched him--so closely. At first he slept a good deal. He was never -in bed very early, and on this morning had been up at six. At Rugby he got -out and ate what he said was his breakfast. Would she not have a cup of -tea? Again she shook her head and smiled. She smiled as some women smile -when you offer them a third glass of champagne. "You are joking with me, I -know. You cannot think that I would take it." This was the meaning of -Lizzie's smile. He went into the refreshment-room, growled at the heat of -the tea and the abominable nastiness of the food provided, and then, after -the allotted five minutes, took himself to a smoking-carriage. He did not -rejoin his cousin till they were at Crewe. When he went back to his old -seat, she only smiled again. He asked her whether she had slept, and again -she shook her head. She had been repeating to herself the address to -Ianthe's soul, and her whole being was pervaded with poetry. - -It was absolutely necessary, as he thought, that she should eat something, -and he insisted that she should dine upon the road, somewhere. He, of -course, was not aware that she had been nibbling biscuits and chocolate -while he had been smoking, and had had recourse even to the comfort of a -sherry flask which she carried in her dressing-bag. When he talked of -dinner she did more than smile and refuse. She expostulated. For she well -knew that the twenty minutes for dinner were allowed at the Carlisle -station; and even if there had been no chocolate and no sherry, she would -have endured on, even up to absolute inanition, rather than step out upon -this well-remembered platform. "You must eat, or you'll be starved," he -said. "I'll fetch you something." So he bribed a special waiter, and she -was supplied with cold chicken and more sherry. After this Frank smoked -again, and did not reappear till they had reached Dumfries. - -Hitherto there had been no tenderness--nothing but the coldest cousinship. -He clearly meant her to understand that he had submitted to the task of -accompanying her back to Portray Castle as a duty, but that he had nothing -to say to one who had so misbehaved herself. This was very irritating. She -could have taken herself home to Portray without his company, and have -made the journey more endurable without him than with him, if this were to -be his conduct throughout. They had had the carriage to themselves all the -way from Crewe to Carlisle, and he had hardly spoken a word to her. If he -would have rated her soundly for her wickednesses, she could have made -something of that. She could have thrown herself on her knees, and -implored his pardon; or, if hard pressed, have suggested the propriety of -throwing herself out of the carriage-window. She could have brought him -round if he would only have talked to her, but there is no doing anything -with a silent man. He was not her master. He had no power over her. She -was the lady of Portray, and he could not interfere with her. If he -intended to be sullen with her to the end, and to show his contempt for -her, she would turn against him. "The worm will turn," she said to -herself. And yet she did not think herself a worm. - -A few stations beyond Dumfries they were again alone. It was now quite -dark, and they had already been travelling over ten hours. They would not -reach their own station till eight, and then again there would be the -journey to Portray. At last he spoke to her. - -"Are you tired, Lizzie?" - -"Oh, so tired!" - -"You have slept, I think?" - -"No, not once; not a wink. You have slept." This she said in a tone of -reproach. - -"Indeed I have." - -"I have endeavoured to read, but one cannot command one's mind at all -times. Oh, I am so weary. Is it much farther? I have lost all reckoning as -to time and place." - -"We change at the next station but one. It will soon be over now. Will you -have a glass of sherry? I have some in my flask." Again she shook her -head. "It is a long way down to Portray, I must own." - -"Oh, I am so sorry that I have given you the trouble to accompany me." - -"I was not thinking of myself. I don't mind it. It was better that you -should have somebody with you--just for this journey." - -"I don't know why this journey should be different from any other," said -Lizzie crossly. She had not done anything that made it necessary that she -should be taken care of--like a naughty girl. - -"I'll see you to the end of it now, anyway." - -"And you'll stay a few days with me, Frank? You won't go away at once? Say -you'll stay a week. Dear, dear Frank; say you'll stay a week. I know that -the House doesn't meet for ever so long. Oh, Frank, I do so wish you'd be -more like yourself." There was no reason why she should not make one other -effort, and as she made it every sign of fatigue passed away from her. - -"I'll stay over to-morrow certainly," he replied. - -"Only one day!" - -"Days with me mean money, Lizzie, and money is a thing which is at present -very necessary to me." - -"I hate money." - -"That's very well for you because you have plenty of it." - -"I hate money. It is the only thing that one has that one cannot give to -those one loves. I could give you anything else--though it cost a thousand -pounds." - -"Pray don't. Most people like presents, but they only bore me." - -"Because you are so indifferent, Frank; so cold. Do you remember giving me -a little ring?" - -"Very well indeed. It cost eight and sixpence." - -"I never thought what it cost; but there it is." This she said drawing off -her glove and showing him her finger. "And when I am dead there it will -be. You say you want money, Frank. May I not give it you? Are not we -brother and sister?" - -"My dear Lizzie, you say you hate money. Don't talk about it." - -"It is you that talk about it. I only talk about it because I want to give -it you; yes, all that I have. When I first knew what was the real meaning -of my husband's will, my only thought was to be of assistance to you." - -In real truth Frank was becoming very sick of her. It seemed to him now to -have been almost impossible that he should ever soberly have thought of -making her his wife. The charm was all gone, and even her prettiness had -in his eyes lost its value. He looked at her, asking himself whether in -truth she was pretty. She had been travelling all day, and perhaps the -scrutiny was not fair. But he thought that even after the longest day's -journey Lucy would not have been soiled, haggard, dishevelled, and -unclean, as was this woman. - -Travellers again entered the carriage, and they went on with a crowd of -persons till they reached the platform at which they changed the carriage -for Troon. Then they were again alone, for a few minutes, and Lizzie with -infinite courage determined that she would make her last attempt. "Frank," -she said, "you know what it is that I mean. You cannot feel that I am -ungenerous. You have made me love you. Will you have all that I have to -give?" She was leaning over close to him, and he was observing that her -long lock of hair was out of curl and untidy, a thing that ought not to -have been during such a journey as this. - -"Do you not know," he said, "that I am engaged to marry Lucy Morris?" - -"No; I do not know it." - -"I have told you so more than once." - -"You cannot afford to marry her." - -"Then I shall do it without affording." - -Lizzie was about to speak, had already pronounced her rival's name, in -that tone of contempt which she so well knew how to use, when he stopped -her. "Do not say anything against her, Lizzie, in my hearing, for I will -not bear it. It would force me to leave you at the Troon station, and I -had better see you now to the end of the journey." Lizzie flung herself -back into the corner of her carriage, and did not utter another word till -she reached Portray Castle. He handed her out of the railway carriage and -into her own vehicle which was waiting for them, attended to the maid, and -got the luggage; but still she did not speak. It would be better that she -should quarrel with him. That little snake Lucy would of course now tell -him of the meeting between them in Hertford Street, after which anything -but quarrelling would be impossible. What a fool the man must be, what an -idiot, what a soft-hearted, mean-spirited fellow! Lucy, by her sly, quiet -little stratagems, had got him once to speak the word, and now he had not -courage enough to go back from it! He had less strength of will even than -Lord Fawn! What she offered to him would be the making of him. With his -position, his seat in Parliament, such a country house as Portray Castle, -and the income which she would give him, there was nothing that he might -not reach! And he was so infirm of purpose that though he had hankered -after it all he would not open his hand to take it, because he was afraid -of such a little thing as Lucy Morris! It was thus that she thought of him -as she leaned back in the carriage without speaking. In giving her all -that is due to her we must acknowledge that she had less feeling of the -injury done to her charms as a woman than might have been expected. That -she hated Lucy was a matter of course; and equally so that she should be -very angry with Frank Greystock; but the anger arose from general -disappointment rather than from any sense of her own despised beauty. "Ah, -now I shall see my child," she said, as the carriage stopped at the castle -gate. - -When Frank Greystock went to his supper Miss Macnulty brought to him his -cousin's compliments with a message saying that she was too weary to see -him again that night. The message had been intended to be curt and -uncourteous, but Miss Macnulty had softened it, so that no harm was done. -"She must be very weary," said Frank. - -"I supposed though that nothing would ever really tire Lady Eustace," said -Miss Macnulty. "When she is excited nothing will tire her. Perhaps the -journey has been dull." - -"Exceedingly dull!" said Frank, as he helped himself to the collops which -the Portray cook had prepared for his supper. - -Miss Macnulty was very attentive to him and had many questions to ask. -About the necklace she hardly dared to speak, merely observing how sad it -was that all those precious diamonds should have been lost forever. "Very -sad indeed," said Frank with his mouth full. She then went on to the -marriage--the marriage that was no marriage. Was not that very dreadful? -Was it true that Miss Roanoke was really--out of her mind? Frank -acknowledged that it was dreadful, but thought that the marriage had it -been completed would have been more so. As for the young lady, he knew -only that she had been taken somewhere out of the way. Sir Griffin, he had -been told, had gone to Japan. - -"To Japan!" said Miss Macnulty, really interested. Had Sir Griffin gone no -farther than Boulogne her pleasure in the news would certainly have been -much less. Then she asked some single question about Lord George, and from -that came to the real marrow of her anxiety. Had Mr. Greystock lately seen -the--the Rev. Mr. Emilius? Frank had not seen the clergyman, and could -only say of him that had Lucinda Roanoke and Sir Griffin Tewett been made -one, the knot would have been tied by Mr. Emilius. - -"Would it indeed? Did you not think Mr. Emilius very clever when you met -him down here?" - -"I don't doubt but what he is a sharp sort of fellow." - -"Oh, Mr. Greystock, I don't think that that's the word for him at all. He -did promise me when he was here that he would write to me occasionally, -but I suppose that the increasing duties of his position have rendered -that impossible." Frank, who had no idea of the extent of the preacher's -ambition, assured Miss Macnulty that among his multifarious clerical -labours it was out of the question that Mr. Emilius should find time to -write letters. - -Frank had consented to stay one day at Portray, and did not now like to -run away without again seeing his cousin. Though much tempted to go at -once, he did stay the day, and had an opportunity of speaking a few words -to Mr. Gowran. Mr. Gowran was very gracious, but said nothing of his -journey up to London. He asked various questions concerning her -"leddyship's" appearance at the police-court, as to which tidings had -already reached Ayrshire, and pretended to be greatly shocked at the loss -of the diamonds. - -"When they talk o' ten thoosand poond that's a lee nae doobt?" asked Andy. - -"No lie at all, I believe," said Greystock. - -"And her leddyship wad tak' aboot wi' her ten thoosand poond in a box?" -Andy still showed much doubt by the angry glance of his eye and the close -compression of his lips and the great severity of his demeanour as he -asked the question. - -"I know nothing about diamonds myself, but that is what they say they were -worth." - -"Her leddyship her ain sell seems nae to ha' been in ain story aboot the -box, Muster Greystock?" But Frank could not stand to be cross-questioned -on this delicate matter, and walked off, saying that as the thieves had -not yet been tried for the robbery, the less said about it the better. - -At four o'clock on that afternoon he had not seen Lizzie, and then he -received a message from her to the effect that she was still so unwell -from the fatigue of her journey that she could bear no one with her but -her child. She hoped that her cousin was quite comfortable, and that she -might be able to see him after breakfast on the following day. But Frank -was determined to leave Portray very early on the following day, and -therefore wrote a note to his cousin. He begged that she would not disturb -herself, that he would leave the castle the next morning before she could -be up, and that he had only further to remind her that she must come up to -London at once as soon as she should be summoned for the trial of Mr. -Benjamin and his comrade. It had seemed to Frank that she had almost -concluded that her labours connected with that disagreeable matter were at -end. - -"The examination may be long, and I will attend you if you wish it," said -her cousin. Upon receiving this she thought it expedient to come down to -him, and there was an interview for about a quarter of an hour in her own -little sitting-room, looking out upon the sea. She had formed a project, -and at once suggested it to him. If she found herself ill when the day of -the trial came, could they make her go up and give her evidence? Frank -told her that they could and that they would. She was very clever about -it. - -"They couldn't go back to what I said at Carlisle, you know; because they -already have made me tell all that myself." As she had been called upon to -criminate herself she could not now be tried for the crime. Frank, -however, would not listen to this, and told her that she must come. "Very -well, Frank. I know you like to have your own way. You always did. And you -think so little of my feelings? I shall make inquiry and if f must, why, I -suppose I must." - -"You'd better make up your mind to come." - -"Very well. And now, Frank, as I am so very tired, if you please, I'll say -good-by to you. I am very much obliged to you for coming with me. Good- -by." And so they parted. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXVII - -THE STORY OF LUCY MORRIS IS CONCLUDED - - -On the day appointed, Lucy Morris went back from the house of the old -countess to Fawn Court. "My dear," said Lady Linlithgow, "I am sorry that -you are going. Perhaps you'll think I haven't been very kind to you, but I -never am kind. People have always been hard to me, and I'm hard. But I do -like you." - -"I'm glad you like me, as we have lived together so long." - -"You may go on staying here, if you choose, and I'll try to make it -better." - -"It hasn't been bad at all, only that there's nothing particular to do. -But I must go. I shall get another place as a governess somewhere, and -that will suit me best." - -"Because of the money, you mean." - -"Well--that in part." - -"I mean to pay you something," said the countess, opening her pocket-book, -and fumbling for two banknotes which she had deposited there. - -"Oh, dear, no. I haven't earned anything." - -"I always gave Macnulty something, and she was not near so nice as you." -And then the countess produced two ten-pound notes. But Lucy would have -none of her money, and when she was pressed, became proud and almost -indignant in her denial. She had earned nothing, and she would take -nothing; and it was in vain that the old lady spread the clean bits of -paper before her. "And so you'll go and be a governess again; will you?" - -"When I can get a place." - -"I'll tell you what, my dear. If I were Frank Greystock, I'd stick to my -bargain." Lucy at once fell a-crying, but she smiled upon the old woman -through her tears. "Of course he's going to marry that little limb of the -devil." - -"Oh, Lady Linlithgow, if you can, prevent that!" - -"How am I to prevent it, my dear? I've nothing to say to either of them." - -"It isn't for myself I'm speaking. If I can't--if I can't--can't have -things go as I thought they would by myself, I will never ask any one to -help me. It is not that I mean. I have given all that up." - -"You have given it up?" - -"Yes; I have. But nevertheless I think of him. She is bad, and he will -never be happy if he marries her. When he asked me to be his wife, he was -mistaken as to what would be good for him. He ought not to have made such -a mistake. For my sake he ought not." - -"That's quite true, my dear." - -"But I do not wish him to be unhappy all his life. He is not bad, but she -is very bad. I would not for worlds that anybody should tell him that he -owed me anything; but if he could be saved from her, oh, I should be so -glad." - -"You won't have my money, then?" - -"No, Lady Linlithgow." - -"You'd better. It is honestly your own." - -"I will not take it, thank you." - -"Then I may as well put it up again." And the countess replaced the notes -in her pocket-book. When this conversation took place, Frank Greystock was -travelling back alone from Portray to London. On the same day the Fawn -carriage came to fetch Lucy away. As Lucy was in peculiar distress, Lady -Fawn would not allow her to come by any other conveyance. She did not -exactly think that the carriage would console her poor favourite; but she -did it as she would have ordered something specially nice to eat for any -one who had broken his leg. Her soft heart had compassion for misery, -though she would sometimes show her sympathy by strange expressions. Lady -Linlithgow was almost angry about the carriage. "How many carriages and -how many horses does Lady Fawn keep?" she asked. - -"One carriage and two horses." - -"She's very fond of sending them up into the streets of London, I think." -Lucy said nothing more, knowing that it would be impossible to soften the -heart of this dowager in regard to the other. But she kissed the old woman -at parting, and then was taken down to Richmond in state. - -She had made up her mind to have one discussion with Lady Fawn about her -engagement, the engagement which was no longer an engagement, and then to -have done with it. She would ask Lady Fawn to ask the girls never to -mention Mr. Greystock's name in her hearing. Lady Fawn had also made up -her mind to the same effect. She felt that the subject should be mentioned -once, and once only. Of course Lucy must have another place, but there -need be no hurry about that. She fully recognised her young friend's -feeling of independence, and was herself aware that she would be wrong to -offer to the girl a permanent home among her own daughters, and therefore -she could not abandon the idea of a future place; but Lucy would, of -course, remain till a situation should be found for her that would be in -every sense unexceptionable. There need, however, be no haste, and, in the -mean time, the few words about Frank Greystock must be spoken. They need -not, however, be spoken quite immediately. Let there be smiles, and joy, -and a merry ring of laughter on this the first day of the return of their -old friend. As Lucy had the same feeling on that afternoon they did talk -pleasantly and were merry. The girls asked questions about the vulturess, -as they had heard her called by Lizzie Eustace, and laughed at Lucy, to -her face, when she swore that, after a fashion, she liked the old woman. - -"You'd like anybody, then," said Nina. - -"Indeed I don't," said Lucy, thinking at once of Lizzie Eustace. - -Lady Fawn planned out the next day with great precision. After breakfast, -Lucy and the girls were to spend the morning in the old school-room, so -that there might be a general explanation as to the doings of the last six -months. They were to dine at three, and after dinner there should be the -discussion. "Will you come up to my room at four o'clock, my dear?" said -Lady Fawn, patting Lucy's shoulder, in the breakfast-parlour. Lucy knew -well why her presence was required. Of course she would come. It would be -wise to get it over, and have done with it. - -At noon Lady Fawn, with her three eldest daughters, went out in the -carriage, and Lucy was busy among the others with books and maps and -sheets of scribbled music. Nothing was done on that day in the way of -instruction; but there was much of half-jocose acknowledgment of past -idleness, and a profusion of resolutions of future diligence. One or two -of the girls were going to commence a course of reading that would have -broken the back of any professor, and suggestions were made as to very -rigid rules as to the talking of French and German. "But as we can't talk -German," said Nina, "we should simply be dumb." - -"You'd talk High-Dutch, Nina, sooner than submit to that," said one of the -sisters. - -The conclave was still sitting in full deliberation, when one of the maids -entered the room with a very long face. There was a gentleman in the -drawing-room asking for Miss Morris! Lucy, who at the moment was standing -at a table on which were spread an infinity of books, became at once as -white as a sheet. Her fast friend, Lydia Fawn, who was standing by her, -immediately took hold of her hand quite tightly. The face of the maid was -fit for a funeral. She knew that Miss Morris had had a "follower," that -the follower had come, and that then Miss Morris had gone away. Miss -Morris had been allowed to come back; and now, on the very first day, just -when my lady's back was turned, here was the follower again! Before she -had come up with her message, there had been an unanimous expression of -opinion in the kitchen that the fat would all be in the fire. Lucy was as -white as marble, and felt such a sudden shock at her heart, that she could -not speak. And yet she never doubted for a moment that Frank Greystock was -the man. And with what purpose but one could he have come there? She had -on the old, old frock in which, before her visit to Lady Linlithgow, she -used to pass the morning amid her labours with the girls, a pale, gray, -well-worn frock, to which must have been imparted some attraction from the -milliner's art, because everybody liked it so well, but which she had put -on this very morning as a testimony, to all the world around her, that she -had abandoned the idea of being anything except a governess. Lady Fawn had -understood the frock well. "Here is the dear little old woman just the -same as ever," Lydia had said, embracing her. - -"She looks as if she'd gone to bed before the winter, and had a long -sleep, like a dormouse," said Cecilia. Lucy had liked it all, and -thoroughly appreciated the loving-kindness; but she had known what it all -meant. She had left them as the engaged bride of Mr. Greystock, the member -for Bobsborough; and now she had come back as Lucy Morris, the governess, -again. - -"Just the same as ever," Lucy had said, with the sweetest smile. They all -understood that in so saying she renounced her lover. - -And now there stood the maid, inside the room, who, having announced that -there was a gentleman asking for Miss Morris, was waiting for an answer. -Was the follower to be sent about his business, with a flea in his ear, -having come, slyly, craftily, and wickedly, in Lady Fawn's absence; or -would Miss Morris brazen it out, and go and see him? - -"Who is the gentleman?" asked Diana, who was the eldest of the Fawn girls -present. - -"It's he as used to come after Miss Morris before," said the maid. - -"It is Mr. Greystock," said Lucy, recovering herself with an effort. "I -had better go down to him. Will you tell him, Mary, that I'll be with him -almost immediately?" - -"You ought to have put on the other frock, after all," said Nina, -whispering into her ear. - -"He has not lost much time in coming to see you," said Lydia. - -"I suppose it was all because he didn't like Lady Linlithgow," said -Cecilia. Lucy had not a word to say. She stood for a minute among them, -trying to think, and then she slowly left the room. - -She would not condescend to alter her dress by the aid of a single pin, -nor by the adjustment of a ribbon. It might well be that, after the -mingled work and play of the morning, her hair should not be smooth; but -she was too proud to look at her hair. The man whom she had loved, who had -loved her but had neglected her, was in the house. He would surely not -have followed her thither did he not intend to make reparation for his -neglect. But she would use no art with him; nor would she make any -entreaty. It might be that, after all, he had the courage to come and tell -her, in a manly, straightforward way, that the thing must be all over, -that he had made a mistake, and would beg her pardon. If it were so, there -should be no word of reproach. She would be quite quiet with him; but -there should be no word of reproach. But if----in that other case, she -could not be sure of her behaviour; but she knew well that he would not -have to ask long for forgiveness. As for her dress, he had chosen to love -her in that frock before, and she did not think that he would pay much -attention to her dress on the present occasion. - -She opened the door very quietly and very slowly, intending to approach -him in the same way; but in a moment, before she could remember that she -was in the room, he had seized her in his arms, and was showering kisses -upon her forehead, her eyes, and her lips. When she thought of it -afterwards, she could not call to mind a single word that he had spoken -before he held her in his embrace. It was she, surely, who had spoken -first, when she begged to be released from his pressure. But she well -remembered the first words that struck her ear. "Dearest Lucy, will you -forgive me?" She could only answer them, through her tears, by taking up -his hand and kissing it. - -When Lady Fawn came back with the carriage, she herself saw the figures of -two persons walking very close together, in the shrubberies. - -"Is that Lucy?" she asked. - -"Yes;" said Augusta, with a tone of horror. "Indeed it is; and--Mr. -Greystock." - -Lady Fawn was neither shocked nor displeased; nor was she disappointed; -but a certain faint feeling of being ill-used by circumstances came over -her. "Dear me; the very first day!" she said. - -"It's because he wouldn't go to Lady Linlithgow's," said Amelia. "He has -only waited, mamma." - -"But the very first day!" exclaimed Lady Fawn. "I hope Lucy will be happy; -that's all." - -There was a great meeting of all the Fawns, as soon as Lady Fawn and the -eldest girls were in the house. Mr. Greystock had been walking about the -grounds with Lucy for the last hour and a half. Lucy had come in once to -beg that Lady Fawn might be told directly she came in. "She said you were -to send for her, mamma," said Lydia. - -"But it's dinner-time, my dear. What are we to do with Mr. Greystock?" - -"Ask him to lunch, of course," said Amelia. - -"I suppose it's all right," said Lady Fawn. - -"I'm quite sure it's all right," said Nina. - -"What did she say to you, Lydia?" asked the mother. - -"She was as happy as ever she could be," said Lydia. "There's no doubt -about it's being all right, mamma. She looked just as she did when she got -the letter from him before." - -"I hope she managed to change her frock," said Augusta. - -"She didn't then," said Cecilia. - -"I don't suppose he cares one half-penny about her frock," said Nina. "I -should never think about a man's coat if I was in love." - -"Nina, you shouldn't talk in that way," said Augusta. Whereupon Nina made -a face behind one of her sisters' backs. Poor Augusta was never allowed to -be a prophetess among them. - -The consultation was ended by a decision in accordance with which Nina -went as an ambassador to the lovers. Lady Fawn sent her compliments to Mr. -Greystock, and hoped he would come in to lunch. Lucy must come in to -dinner, because dinner was ready. - -"And mamma wants to see you just for a minute," added Nina, in a pretended -whisper. - -"Oh, Nina, you darling girl!" said Lucy, kissing her young friend in an -ecstasy of joy. - -"It's all right?" asked Nina in a whisper which was really intended for -privacy. Lucy did not answer the question otherwise than by another kiss. - -Frank Greystock was, of course, obliged to take his seat at the table, and -was entertained with a profusion of civility. Everybody knew that he had -behaved badly to Lucy--everybody except Lucy herself, who, from this time -forward, altogether forgot that she had for some time looked upon him as a -traitor, and had made up her mind that she had been deceived and ill-used. -All the Fawns had spoken of him, in Lucy's absence, in the hardest terms -of reproach, and declared that he was not fit to be spoken to by any -decent person. Lady Fawn had known from the first that such a one as he -was not to be trusted. Augusta had never liked him. Amelia had feared that -poor Lucy Morris had been unwise, and too ambitious. Georgina had seen -that, of course, it would never do. Diana had sworn that it was a great -shame. Lydia was sure that Lucy was a great deal too good for him. Cecilia -had wondered where he would go to; a form of anathema which had brought -down a rebuke from her mother. And Nina had always hated him like poison. -But now nothing was too good for him. An unmarried man who is willing to -sacrifice himself is, in feminine eyes, always worthy of ribbons and a -chaplet. Among all these Fawns there was as little selfishness as can be -found, even among women. The lover was not the lover of one of themselves, -but of their governess. And yet, though he desired neither to eat nor -drink at that hour, something special had been cooked for him, and a -special bottle of wine had been brought out of the cellar. All his sins -were forgiven him. No single question was asked as to his gross misconduct -during the last six months. No pledge or guarantee was demanded for the -future. There he was, in the guise of a declared lover, and the fatted -calf was killed. - -After this early dinner it was necessary that he should return to town, -and Lucy obtained leave to walk with him to the station. To her thinking -now, there was no sin to be forgiven. Everything was, and had been, just -as it ought to be. Had any human being hinted that he had sinned, she -would have defended him to the death. Something was said between them -about Lizzie, but nothing that arose from jealousy. Not till many months -had passed did she tell him of Lizzie's message to herself, and of her -visit to Hertford Street; but they spoke of the necklace, and poor Lucy -shuddered as she was told the truth about those false oaths. - -"I really do think that, after that, Lord Fawn is right," she said, -looking round at her lover. - -"Yes; but what he did, he did before that," said Frank. - -"But are they not good and kind?" she said, pleading for her friends. "Was -ever anybody so well treated as they have treated me? I'll tell you what, -sir, you mustn't quarrel with Lord Fawn any more. I won't allow it." Then -she walked back from the station alone, almost bewildered by her own -happiness. - -That evening something like an explanation was demanded by Lady Fawn, but -no explanation was forthcoming. When questions were asked about his -silence, Lucy, half in joke and half in earnest, fired up and declared -that everything had been as natural as possible. He could not have come to -Lady Linlithgow's house. Lady Linlithgow would not receive him. No doubt -she had been impatient, but then that had been her fault. Had he not come -to her the very first day after her return to Richmond? When Augusta said -something as to letters which might have been written, Lucy snubbed her. -"Who says he didn't write. He did write. If I am contented, why should you -complain?" - -"Oh, I don't complain," said Augusta. - -Then questions were asked as to the future; questions to which Lady Fawn -had a right to demand an answer. What did Mr. Greystock propose to do now? -Then Lucy broke down, sobbing, crying, triumphing, with mingled love and -happiness. She was to go to the deanery. Frank had brought with him a -little note to her from his mother, in which she was invited to make the -deanery at Bobsborough her home for the present. - -"And you are to go away just when you've come?" asked Nina. - -"Stay with us a month, my dear," said Lady Fawn, "just to let people know -that we are friends, and after that the deanery will be the best home for -you." And so it was arranged. - - * * * * * - -It need only be further said, in completing the history of Lucy Morris as -far as it can be completed in these pages, that she did go to the deanery, -and that there she was received with all the affection which Mrs. -Greystock could show to an adopted daughter. Her quarrel had never been -with Lucy personally--but with the untoward fact that her son would not -marry money. At the deanery she remained for fifteen happy months, and -then became Mrs. Greystock, with a bevy of Fawn bridesmaids around her. As -the personages of a chronicle such as this should all be made to operate -backwards and forwards on each other from the beginning to the end, it -would have been desirable that the chronicler should have been able to -report that the ceremony was celebrated by Mr. Emilius; but as the wedding -did not take place till the end of the summer, and as Mr. Emilius, at that -time, never remained in town after the season was over, this was -impossible; it was the Dean of Bobsborough, assisted by one of the minor -canons, who performed the service. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXVIII - -THE TRIAL - - -Having told the tale of Lucy Morris to the end, the chronicler must now go -back to the more important persons of this history. It was still early in -April when Lizzie Eustace was taken down to Scotland by her cousin, and -the trial of Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Smiler was fixed to take place at the -Central Criminal Court about the middle of May. Early in May the attorneys -for the prosecution applied to Greystock, asking him whether he would make -arrangements for his cousin's appearance on the occasion, informing him -that she had already been formally summoned. Whereupon he wrote to Lizzie, -telling her what she had better do, in the kindest manner--as though there -had been no cessation of their friendly intercourse; offering to go with -her into court--and naming a hotel at which he would advise her to stay, -during the very short time that she need remain in London. She answered -this letter at once. She was sorry to say that she was much too ill to -travel, or even to think of travelling. Such was her present condition -that she doubted greatly whether she would ever again be able to leave the -two rooms to which she was at present confined. All that remained to her -in life was to watch her own blue waves from the casement of her dear -husband's castle--that casement at which he had loved to sit--and to make -herself happy in the smiles of her child. A few months would see the last -of it all, and then, perhaps, they who had trampled her to death would -feel some pang of remorse as they thought of her early fate. She had given -her evidence once and had told all the truth--though she was now aware -that she need not have done so, as she had been defrauded of a vast amount -of property through the gross negligence of the police. She was advised -now by persons who seemed really to understand the law, that she could -recover the value of the diamonds which her dear, dear husband had given -her, from the freeholders of the parish in which the robbery had taken -place. She feared that her health did not admit of the necessary exertion. -Were it otherwise she would leave no stone unturned to recover the value -of her property--not on account of its value, but because she had been so -ill-treated by Mr. Camperdown and the police. Then she added a postscript -to say that it was quite out of the question that she should take any -journey for the next six months. - -The reader need hardly be told that Greystock did not believe a word of -what she said. He felt sure that she was not ill. There was an energy in -the letter hardly compatible with illness. But he could not make her come. -He certainly did not intend to go down again to Scotland to fetch her; and -even had he done so he could not have forced her to accompany him. He -could only go to the attorneys concerned, and read to them so much of the -letter as he thought fit to communicate to them. - -"That won't do at all," said an old gentleman at the head of the firm. -"She has been very leniently treated, and she must come." - -"You must manage it, then," said Frank. - -"I hope she won't give us trouble, because if she does we must expose -her," said the second member. - -"She has not even sent a medical certificate," said the tyro of the firm, -who was not quite so sharp as he will probably become when he has been a -member of it for ten or twelve years. You should never ask the ostler -whether he greases his oats. In this case Frank Greystock was not exactly -in the position of the ostler; but he did inform his cousin by letter that -she would lay herself open to all manner of pains and penalties if she -disobeyed such a summons as she had received, unless she did so by a very -strong medical advice, backed by a medical certificate. - -Lizzie, when she received this, had two strings to her bow. A writer from -Ayr had told her that the summons sent to her was not worth the paper on -which it was printed in regard to a resident in Scotland; and she had also -got a doctor from the neighbourhood who was satisfied that she was far too -ill to travel up to London. Pulmonary debilitation was the complaint from -which she was suffering, which, with depressed vitality in all the organs, -and undue languor in all the bodily functions, would be enough to bring -her to a speedy end if she so much as thought of making a journey up to -London. A certificate to this effect was got in triplicate. One copy she -sent to the attorneys, one to Frank, and one she kept herself. - -The matter was very pressing indeed. It was considered that the trial -could not be postponed till the next sitting at the Criminal Court, -because certain witnesses in respect to the diamonds had been procured -from Hamburg and Vienna, at a very great cost; they were actually on their -way to London when Lizzie's second letter was received. Mr. Camperdown had -resolved to have the diamonds still, with a hope that they might be -restored to the keeping of Messrs. Garnett, there to lie hidden and -unused, at any rate for the next twenty years. The diamonds had been -traced first to Hamburg and then to Vienna, and it was to be proved that -they were now adorning the bosom of a certain enormously rich Russian -princess. From the grasp of the Russian princess it was found impossible -to rescue them; but the witnesses who, as it was hoped, might have aided -Mr. Camperdown in his efforts, were to be examined at the trial. - -A confidential clerk was sent down to Portray, but the confidential clerk -altogether failed in making his way into Lizzie's presence. Word was -brought to him that nothing but force could take Lady Eustace from her -bedchamber; and that force used to that effect might take her out dead, -but certainly not alive. He made inquiry, however, about the doctor, and -found that he certainly was a doctor. If a doctor will certify that a lady -is dying, what can any judge do, or any jury? There are certain statements -which, though they are false as hell, must be treated as though they were -true as gospel. The clerk reported when he got back to London, that to his -belief Lady Eustace was enjoying an excellent state of health; but that he -was perfectly certain that she would not appear as a witness at the trial. - -The anger felt by many persons as to Lizzie's fraudulent obstinacy was -intense. Mr. Camperdown thought that she ought to be dragged up to London -by cart ropes. The attorneys engaged for the prosecution were almost -beside themselves. They did send down a doctor of their own, but Lizzie -would not see the doctor--would not see the doctor though threats of most -frightful consequences were conveyed to her. She would be exposed, fined -thousands of pounds, committed to jail for contempt of court, and -prosecuted for perjury into the bargain. But she was firm. She wrote one -scrap of a note to the doctor who came from London. "I shall not live to -satisfy their rabid vengeance." Even Frank Greystock felt almost more -annoyed than gratified that she should be able thus to escape. People who -had heard of the inquiry before the magistrate, had postponed their -excitement and interest on the occasion because they knew that the day of -the trial would be the great day; and when they heard that they were to be -robbed of the pleasure of Lady Eustace's cross-examination, there arose -almost a public feeling of wrath that justice should be thus outraged. The -doctor who had given the certificate was vilified in the newspapers, and -long articles were written as to the impotence of the law. But Lizzie was -successful, and the trial went on without her. - -It appeared that though her evidence was very desirable it was not -absolutely essential, as, in consequence of her certified illness, the -statement which she had made at the police-court could be brought up and -used against the prisoners. All the facts of the robbery were, moreover, -proved by Patience Crabstick and Billy Cann; and the transfer of the -diamonds by Mr. Benjamin to the man who recut them at Hamburg was also -proved. Many other morsels of collateral evidence had also been picked up -by the police, so that there was no possible doubt as to any detail of the -affair in Hertford Street. There was a rumour that Mr. Benjamin intended -to plead guilty. He might, perhaps, have done so had it not been for the -absence of Lady Eustace; but as that was thought to give him a possible -chance of escape, he stood his ground. - -Lizzie's absence was a great disappointment to the sightseers of London; -but nevertheless the court was crowded. It was understood that the learned -sergeant who was retained on this occasion to defend Mr. Benjamin, and who -was assisted by the acute gentleman who had appeared before the -magistrate, would be rather severe upon Lady Eustace, even in her absence; -and that he would ground his demand for an acquittal on the combined facts -of her retention of the diamonds, her perjury, and of her obstinate -refusal to come forward on the present occasion. As it was known that he -could be very severe, many came to hear him, and they were not -disappointed. The reader shall see a portion of his address to the jury, -which we hope may have had some salutary effect on Lizzie as she read it -in her retreat at Portray looking out upon her own blue waves. - -"And now, gentlemen of the jury, let me recapitulate to you the history of -this lady as far as it relates to the diamonds, as to which my client is -now in jeopardy. You have heard on the testimony of Mr. Camperdown that -they were not hers at all, that, at any rate, they were not supposed to be -hers by those in whose hands was left the administration of her husband's -estate, and that when they were first supposed to have been stolen at the -inn at Carlisle, he had already commenced legal steps for the recovery of -them from her clutches. A bill in Chancery had been filed because she had -obstinately refused to allow them to pass out of her hands. It has been -proved to you by Lord Fawn that though he was engaged to marry her he -broke his engagement because he supposed her possession of these diamonds -to be fraudulent and dishonest." This examination had been terrible to the -unfortunate undersecretary; and had absolutely driven him away from the -India board and from Parliament for a month. "It has been proved to you -that when the diamonds were supposed to have vanished at Carlisle, she -there committed perjury. That she did so she herself stated on oath in -that evidence which she gave before the magistrate when my client was -committed, and which has, as I maintain, improperly and illegally been -used against my client at this trial." Here the judge looked over his -spectacles and admonished the learned sergeant that his argument on that -subject had already been heard, and the matter decided. "True, my lord; -but my conviction of my duty to my client compels me to revert to it. Lady -Eustace committed perjury at Carlisle, having the diamonds in her pocket -at the very moment in which she swore that they had been stolen from her; -and if justice had really been done in this case, gentlemen, it is Lady -Eustace who should now be on her trial before you, and not my unfortunate -client. Well, what is the next that we hear of it? It seems that she -brought the diamonds up to London; but how long she kept them there nobody -knows. It was, however, necessary to account for them. A robbery is got up -between a young woman who seems to have been the confidential friend, -rather than the maid, of Lady Eustace, and that other witness whom you -have heard testifying against himself, and who is, of all the informers -that ever came into my hands, the most flippant, the most hardened, the -least conscientious, and the least credible. That those two were engaged -in a conspiracy I cannot doubt. That Lady Eustace was engaged with them I -will not say; but I will ask you to consider whether such may not probably -have been the case. At any rate she then perjures herself again. She gives -a list of the articles stolen from her, and omits the diamonds. She either -perjures herself a second time, or else the diamonds, in regard to which -my client is in jeopardy, were not in the house at all, and could not then -have been stolen. It may very probably have been so. Nothing more -probable. Mr. Camperdown and the managers of the Eustace estate had -gradually come to a belief that the Carlisle robbery was a hoax, and -therefore another robbery is necessary to account for the diamonds. -Another robbery is arranged, and this young and beautiful widow, as bold -as brass, again goes before the magistrate and swears. Either the diamonds -were not stolen or else she commits a second perjury. - -"And now, gentlemen, she is not here. She is sick forsooth at her own -castle in Scotland, and sends to us a medical certificate; but the -gentlemen who are carrying on this prosecution know their witness, and -don't believe a word of her sickness. Had she the feelings of woman in her -bosom she ought indeed to be sick unto death. But they know her better and -send down a doctor of their own. You have heard his evidence, and yet this -wonderful lady is not before us. I say again that she ought to be here in -that dock--in that dock in spite of her fortune, in that dock in spite of -her title, in that dock in spite of her castle, her riches, her beauty, -and her great relatives. A most wonderful woman, indeed, is the widow -Eustace. It is she whom public opinion will convict as the guilty one in -this marvellous mass of conspiracy and intrigue. In her absence, and after -what she has done herself, can you convict any man either of stealing or -of disposing of these diamonds?" The vigour, the attitude, and the -indignant tone of the man were more even than his words; but, -nevertheless, the jury found both Benjamin and Smiler guilty, and the -judge sentenced them to penal servitude for fifteen years. - -And this was the end of the Eustace diamonds, as far as anything was ever -known of them in England. Mr. Camperdown altogether failed, even in his -attempt to buy them back at something less than their value, and was -ashamed himself to look at the figures, when he found how much money he -had wasted for his clients in their pursuit. In discussing the matter -afterwards with Mr. Dove, he excused himself by asserting his inability to -see so gross a robbery perpetrated by a little minx, under his very eyes, -without interfering with the plunder. - -"I knew what she was," he said, "from the moment of Sir Florian's -unfortunate marriage. He had brought a little harpy into the family, and I -was obliged to declare war against her." Mr. Dove seemed to be of opinion -that the ultimate loss of the diamonds was, upon the whole, desirable as -regarded the whole community. - -"I should like to have had the case settled as to right of possession," he -said, "because there were in it one or two points of interest. We none of -us know, for instance, what a man can, or what a man cannot, give away by -a mere word." - -"No such word was ever spoken," said Mr. Camperdown in wrath. - -"Such evidence as there is would have gone to show that it had been -spoken. But the very existence of such property so to be disposed of, or -so not to be disposed of, is in itself an evil. Then, we have had to fight -for six months about a lot of stones hardly so useful as the flags in the -street, and then they vanish from us, leaving us nothing to repay us for -our labour." All of which Mr. Camperdown did not quite understand. Mr. -Dove would be paid for his labour, as to which, however, Mr. Camperdown -knew well that no human being was more indifferent than Mr. Dove. - -There was much sorrow, too, among the police. They had no doubt succeeded -in sending two scoundrels out of the social world, probably for life, and -had succeeded in avoiding the reproach which a great robbery unaccounted -for always entails upon them; but it was sad to them that the property -should altogether have been lost; and sad also that they should have been -constrained to allow Billy Cann to escape out of their hands. Perhaps the -sadness may have been lessened to a certain degree in the breast of the -great Mr. Gager by the charms and graces of Patience Crabstick, to whom he -kept his word by making her his wife. This fact, or rather the prospect of -this fact, as it then was, had also come to the knowledge of the learned -sergeant, and in his hands had served to add another interest to the -trial. Mr. Gager, when examined on the subject, did not attempt to deny -the impeachment, and expressed a strong opinion that, though Miss -Crabstick had given way to temptation under the wiles of the Jew, she -would make an honest and an excellent wife. In which expectation let us -trust that he may not be deceived. - -Amusement had, indeed, been expected from other sources which failed. Mrs. -Carbuncle had been summoned, and Lord George; but both of them had left -town before the summons could reach them. It was rumoured that Mrs. -Carbuncle, with her niece, had gone to join her husband at New York. At -any rate, she disappeared altogether from London, leaving behind her an -amount of debts which showed how extremely liberal in their dealings the -great tradesmen of London will occasionally be. There were milliners' -bills which had been running for three years, and horse-dealers had given -her credit year after year, though they had scarcely ever seen the colour -of her money. One account, however, she had honestly settled. The hotel- -keeper in Albemarle Street had been paid, and all the tribute had been -packed and carried off from the scene of the proposed wedding banquet. -What became of Lord George for the next six months nobody ever knew; but -he appeared at Melton in the following November, and I do not know that -any one dared to ask him questions about the Eustace diamonds. - -Of Lizzie, and her future career, something further must be said in the -concluding chapters of this work. She has been our heroine, and we must -see her through her immediate troubles before we can leave her; but it may -be as well to mention here that, although many threats had been uttered -against her, not only by Mr. Camperdown and the other attorneys, but even -by the judge himself, no punishment at all was inflicted upon her in -regard to her recusancy, nor was any attempt made to punish her. The -affair was over, and men were glad to avoid the necessity of troubling -themselves further with the business. It was said that a case would be got -up with the view of proving that she had not been ill at all, and that the -Scotch doctor would be subjected to the loss of his degree, or whatever -privileges in the healing art belonged to him; but nothing was done, and -Lizzie triumphed in her success. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXIX - -ONCE MORE AT PORTRAY - - -On the very day of the trial Mr. Emilius travelled from London to -Kilmarnock. The trial took place on a Monday, so that he had at his -command an entire week before he would be required to appear again in his -church. He had watched the case against Benjamin and Smiler very closely, -and had known beforehand, almost with accuracy, what witnesses would -appear and what would not at the great coming event at the Old Bailey. -When he first heard of Lady Eustace's illness he wrote to her a most -affectionately pastoral letter, strongly adjuring her to think of her -health before all things, and assuring her that in his opinion and in that -of all his friends she was quite right not to come up to London. She wrote -him a very short but very gracious answer, thanking him for his solicitude -and explaining to him that her condition made it quite impossible that she -should leave Portray. "I don't suppose anybody knows how ill I am; but it -does not matter. When I am gone, they will know what they have done." Then -Mr. Emilius resolved that he would go down to Scotland. Perhaps Lady -Eustace was not as ill as she thought; but it might be that the trial and -the hard things lately said of her, and her loneliness and the feeling -that she needed protection, might, at such a moment as this, soften her -heart. She should know at least that one tender friend did not desert her -because of the evil things which men said of her. - -He went to Kilmarnock, thinking it better to make his approaches by -degrees. Were he to present himself at once at the castle and be refused -admittance, he would hardly know how to repeat his application or to force -himself upon her presence. From Kilmarnock he wrote to her, saying that -business connected with his ministrations during the coming autumn had -brought him into her beautiful neighbourhood, and that he could not leave -it without paying his respects to her in person. With her permission he -would call upon her on the Thursday at about noon. He trusted that the -state of her health would not prevent her from seeing him, and reminded -her that a clergyman was often as welcome a visitor at the bedside of the -invalid, as the doctor or the nurse. He gave her no address, as he rather -wished to hinder her from answering him, but at the appointed hour he -knocked at the castle door. - -Need it be said that Lizzie's state of health was not such as to preclude -her from seeing so intimate a friend as Mr. Emilius. That she was right to -avoid by any effort the castigation which was to have fallen upon her from -the tongue of the learned sergeant, the reader who is not straight-laced -will be disposed to admit. A lone woman, very young, and delicately -organised! How could she have stood up against such treatment as was in -store for her? And is it not the case that false pretexts against public -demands are always held to be justifiable by the female mind? What lady -will ever scruple to avoid her taxes? What woman ever understood her duty -to the State? And this duty which was required of her was so terrible that -it might well have reduced to falsehood a stouter heart than her own. It -can hardly be reckoned among Lizzie's great sins that she did not make -that journey up to London; An appearance of sickness she did maintain, -even with her own domestics. To do as much as that was due even to the -doctor whom she had cajoled out of the certificate, and who was afterwards -frightened into maintaining it. But Mr. Emilius was her clergyman--her own -clergyman, as she took care to say to her maid--her own clergyman, who had -come all the way from London to be present with her in her sickness; and -of course she would see him. - -Lizzie did not think much of the coming autumnal ministration at -Kilmarnock. She knew very well why Mr. Emilius had undertaken the expense -of a journey into Scotland in the middle of the London season. She had -been maimed fearfully in her late contests with the world, and was now -lame and soiled and impotent. The boy with none of the equipments of the -skilled sportsman can make himself master of a wounded bird. Mr. Emilius -was seeking her in the moment of her weakness, fearing that all chance of -success might be over for him should she ever again recover the full use -of her wings. All this Lizzie understood, and was able to measure Mr. -Emilius at his own value of himself; but then, again, she was forced to -ask herself what was her value. She had been terribly mauled by the -fowlers. She had been hit, so to say, on both wings, and hardly knew -whether she would ever again be able to attempt a flight in public. She -could not live alone in Portray Castle for the rest of her days. Ianthe's -soul and the Corsair were not, in truth, able to console her for the loss -of society. She must have somebody to depend upon--ah, some one whom, if -it were possible, she might love. She saw no reason why she should not -love Mr. Emilius. She had been shockingly ill-treated by Lord Fawn and the -Corsair and Frank Greystock. No woman had ever been so knocked about in -her affections. She pitied herself with an exceeding pity when she thought -of all the hardships which she had endured. Left an early widow, -persecuted by her husband's family, twice robbed, spied upon by her own -servants, unappreciated by the world at large, ill-used by three lovers, -victimised by her selected friend, Mrs. Carbuncle, and now driven out of -society because she had lost her diamonds, was she not more cruelly -treated than any woman of whom she had ever read or heard? But she was not -going to give up the battle, even now. She still had her income, and she -had great faith in income. And though she knew that she had been -grievously wounded by the fowlers, she believed that time would heal her -wounds. The world would not continue to turn its back altogether upon a -woman with four thousand pounds a year, because she had told a fib about -her necklace. She weighed all this; but the conviction strongest upon her -mind was the necessity that she should have a husband. She felt that a -woman by herself in the world can do nothing, and that an unmarried -woman's strength lies only in the expectation that she may soon be -married. To her it was essentially necessary that she should have the -protection of a husband who might endure on her behalf some portion of -those buffetings to which she seemed to be especially doomed. Could she do -better with herself than to take Mr. Emilius? - -Might she have chosen from all the world, Mr. Emilius was not, perhaps, -the man whom she would have selected. There were, indeed, attributes in -the man, very objectionable in the sight of some people, which to her were -not specially disagreeable. She thought him rather good-looking than -otherwise, in spite of a slight defect in his left eye. His coal-black, -glossy hair commanded and obtained her admiration, and she found his hooky -nose to be handsome. She did not think much of the ancestral blood of -which he had boasted, and hardly believed that he would ever become a -bishop. But he was popular, and with a rich, titled wife, might become -more so. Mr. Emilius and Lady Eustace would, she thought, sound very well, -and would surely make their way in society. The man had a grasping -ambition about him, and a capacity, too, which, combined, would enable him -to preach himself into notoriety. And then in marrying Mr. Emilius, should -she determine to do so, she might be sure, almost sure, of dictating her -own terms as to settlement. With Lord Fawn, with Lord George, or even with -her cousin Frank, there would have been much difficulty. She thought that -with Mr. Emilius she might obtain the undisputed command of her own -income. But she did not quite make up her mind. She would see him and hear -what he had to say. Her income was her own, and should she refuse Mr. -Emilius, other suitors would no doubt come. - -She dressed herself with considerable care--having first thought of -receiving him in bed; but as the trial had now gone on without her, it -would be convenient that her recovery should be commenced. So she had -herself dressed in a white morning wrapper with pink bows, and allowed the -curl to be made fit to hang over her shoulder. And she put on a pair of -pretty slippers, with gilt bindings, and took a laced handkerchief and a -volume of Shelley--and so prepared herself to receive Mr. Emilius. Lizzie, -since the reader first knew her, had begun to use a little colouring in -the arrangement of her face, and now, in honour of her sickness, she was -very pale indeed; but still, through the paleness, there was the faintest -possible tinge of pink colour shining through the translucent pearl -powder. Any one who knew Lizzie would be sure that when she did paint she -would paint well. - -The conversation at first was, of course, confined to the lady's health. -She thought that she was, perhaps, getting better, though, as the doctor -had told her, the reassuring symptoms might probably prove only too -fallacious. She could eat nothing--literally nothing. A few grapes out of -the hot-house had supported her for the last week. This statement was -foolish on Lizzie's part, as Mr. Emilius was a man of an inquiring nature, -and there was not a grape in the garden. Her only delight was in reading -and in her child's society. Sometimes she thought that she would pass away -with the boy in her arms and her favourite volume of Shelley in her hand. -Mr. Emilius expressed a hope that she would not pass away yet, for ever so -many years. - -"Oh, my friend," said Lizzie, "what is life, that one should desire it?" -Mr. Emilius of course reminded her that, though her life might be nothing -to herself, it was very much indeed to those who loved her. "Yes--to my -boy," said Lizzie. Mr. Emilius informed her, with confidence, that it was -not only her boy that loved her. There were others--or, at any rate, one -other. She might be sure of one faithful heart, if she cared for that. -Lizzie only smiled and threw from her taper fingers a little paper pellet -into the middle of the room--probably with the view of showing at what -value she prized the heart of which Mr. Emilius was speaking. - -The trial had occupied two days, Monday and Tuesday, and this was now the -Wednesday. The result had been telegraphed to Mr. Emilius, of course -without any record of the sergeant's bitter speech, and the suitor now -gave the news to his ladylove. Those two horrid men had at last been found -guilty, and punished with all the severity of the law. "Poor fellows," -said Lady Eustace, "poor Mr. Benjamin! Those ill-starred jewels have been -almost as unkind to him as to me." - -"He'll never come back alive, of course," said Mr. Emilius. "It'll kill -him." - -"And it will kill me too," said Lizzie. "I have a something here which -tells me that I shall never recover. Nobody will ever believe what I have -suffered about those paltry diamonds. But he coveted them. I never coveted -them, Mr. Emilius; though I clung to them because they were my darling -husband's last gift to me." Mr. Emilius assured her that he quite -understood the facts, and appreciated all her feelings. - -And now, as he thought, had come the time for pressing his suit. With -widows, he had been told, the wooing should be brisk. He had already once -asked her to be his wife, and of course she knew the motive of his journey -down to Scotland. "Dearest Lady Eustace," he said suddenly, "may I be -allowed to renew the petition which I was once bold enough to make to you -in London?" - -"Petition?" exclaimed Lizzie. - -"Ah, yes: I can well understand that your indifference should enable you -to forget it. Lady Eustace, I did venture to tell you--that--I loved you." - -"Mr. Emilius, so many men have told me that." - -"I can well believe it. Some have told you so, perhaps, from base, -mercenary motives." - -"You are very complimentary, sir." - -"I shall never pay you any compliments, Lady Eustace. Whatever may be our -future intercourse in life, you will only hear words of truth from my -lips. Some have told you so from mercenary motives." Mr. Emilius repeated -the words with severity, and then paused to hear whether she would dare to -argue with him. As she was silent, he changed his voice, and went on with -that sweet, oily tone which had made his fortune for him. "Some, no doubt, -have spoken from the inner depths of their hearts; but none, Lady Eustace, -have spoken with such adamantine truth, with so intense an anxiety, with -so personal a solicitude for your welfare in this world and the next, as -that, or I should rather say those, which glow within this bosom." Lizzie -was certainly pleased by the manner in which he addressed her. She thought -that a man ought to dare to speak out, and that on such an occasion as -this he should venture to do so with some enthusiasm and some poetry. She -considered that men generally were afraid of expressing themselves, and -were as dumb as dogs from the want of becoming spirit. Mr. Emilius -gesticulated, and struck his breast, and brought out his words as though -he meant them. - -"It is easy to say all that, Mr. Emilius," she replied. - -"The saying of it is hard enough, Lady Eustace. You can never know how -hard, it is to speak from a, full heart. But to feel it, I will not say is -easy; only to me; not to feel it is impossible. Lady Eustace, my heart is -devoted to your heart, and seeks its comrade. It is sick with love, and -will not be stayed. It forces from me words, words which will return upon -me with all the bitterness of gall, if they be not accepted by you as -faithful, ay and of great value." - -"I know well the value of such a heart as yours, Mr. Emilius." - -"Accept it then, dearest one." - -"Love will not always go by command, Mr. Emilius." - -"No, indeed; nor at command will it stay away. Do you think I have not -tried that? Do you believe that for a man it can be pleasant to be -rebuffed; that for one who up to this day has always walked on, triumphant -over every obstacle, who has conquered every nay that has obstructed his -path, it can have less of bitterness than the bitterness of death to -encounter a no from the lips of a woman?" - -"A poor woman's no should be nothing to you, Mr. Emilius." - -"It is everything to me, death, destruction, annihilation, unless I can -overcome it. Darling of my heart, queen of my soul, empress presiding over -the very spirit of my being, say, shall I overcome it now?" - -She had never been made love to after this fashion before. She knew, or -half knew, that the man was a scheming hypocrite, craving her money, and -following her in the hour of her troubles, because he might then have the -best chance of success. She had no belief whatever in his love; and yet -she liked it, and approved his proceedings. She liked lies, thinking them -to be more beautiful than truth. To lie readily and cleverly, recklessly -and yet successfully, was, according to the lessons which she had learned, -a necessity in woman and an added grace in man. There was that wretched -Macnulty, who would never lie; and what was the result? She was unfit even -for the poor condition of life which she pretended to fill. When poor -Macnulty had heard that Mr. Emilius was coming to the castle, and had not -even mentioned her name, and again, when he had been announced on this -very morning, the unfortunate woman had been unable to control her absurd -disappointment. - -"Mr. Emilius," Lizzie said, throwing herself back upon her couch, "you -press me very hard." - -"I would press you harder still to gain the glory I covet." And he made a -motion with arms as though he had already got her tight within his grasp. - -"You take advantage of my illness." - -"In attacking a fortress do not the besiegers take all advantages? Dear -Lady Eustace, allow me to return to London with the right of protecting -your name at this moment, in which the false and the thoughtless are -attacking it. You need a defender now." - -"I can defend myself, sir, from all attacks. I do not know that any one -can hurt me." - -"God forbid that you should be hurt. Heaven forbid that even the winds of -Heaven should blow too harshly on my beloved. But my beloved is subject to -the malice of the world. My beloved is a flower all beautiful within and -without, but one whose stalk is weak, whose petals are too delicate, whose -soft bloom is evanescent. Let me be the strong staff against which my -beloved may blow in safety." - -A vague idea came across Lizzie's mind that this glowing language had a -taste of the Bible about it, and that, therefore, it was in some degree -impersonal and intended to be pious. She did not relish piety at such a -crisis as this, and was therefore for a moment inclined to be cold; but -she liked being called a flower, and was not quite sure whether she -remembered her Bible rightly. The words which struck her ear as familiar -might have come from Juan and Haidee, and if so, nothing could be more -opportune. - -"Do you expect me to give you an answer now, Mr. Emilius?" - -"Yes, now." And he stood before her in calm dignity, with his arms crossed -upon his breast. - -She did give him his answer then and there, but first she turned her face -to the wall, or rather to the back of the sofa, and burst into a flood of -tears. It was a delicious moment to her, that in which she was weeping. -She sobbed forth something about her child, something about her sorrows, -something as to the wretchedness of her lot in life, something of her -widowed heart, something also of that duty to others which would compel -her to keep her income in her own hands; and then she yielded herself to -his entreaties. - - * * * * * - -That evening she thought it proper to tell Miss Macnulty what had -occurred. "He is a great preacher of the gospel," she said, "and I know no -position in the world more worthy of a woman's fondest admiration." Miss -Macnulty was unable to answer a word. She could not congratulate her -successful rival, even though her bread depended on it. She crept slowly -out of the room, and went up-stairs and wept. - -Early in the month of June, Lady Eustace was led to the hymeneal altar by -her clerical bridegroom. The wedding took place at the Episcopal Church at -Ayr, far from the eyes of curious Londoners. It need only be further said -that Mr. Emilius could be persuaded to agree to no settlements prejudicial -to that marital supremacy which should be attached to the husband; and -that Lizzie, when the moment came, knowing that her betrothal had been -made public to all the world, did not dare to recede from another -engagement. It may be that Mr. Emilius will suit her as well as any -husband that she could find, unless it shall be found that his previous -career has been too adventurous. After a certain fashion he will, perhaps, -be tender to her; but he will have his own way in everything, and be no -whit afraid when she is about to die in an agony of tears before his eyes. -The writer of the present story may, however, declare that the future fate -of this lady shall not be left altogether in obscurity. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXX - -WHAT WAS SAID ABOUT IT ALL AT MATCHING - - -The Whitsuntide holidays were late this year, not taking place till the -beginning of June, and were protracted till the 9th of that month. On the -8th Lizzie and Mr. Emilius became man and wife, and on that same day Lady -Glencora Palliser entertained a large company of guests at Matching -Priory. That the Duke of Omnium was there was quite a matter of course. -Indeed in these days Lady Glencora seldom separated herself far, or for -any long time, from her husband's uncle, doing her duty to the head of her -husband's family in the most exemplary manner. People, indeed, said that -she watched him narrowly, but of persons in high station common people -will say anything. It was at any rate certain that she made the declining -years of that great nobleman's life comfortable and decorous. Madame Max -Goesler was also at Matching, a lady whose society always gave -gratification to the duke. And Mr. Palliser was also there, taking the -rest that was so needful to him; by which it must be understood that after -having worked all day he was able to eat his dinner and then only write a -few letters before going to bed, instead of attending the House of Commons -till two or three o'clock in the morning; but his mind was still deep in -quints and semi-tenths. His great measure was even now in committee. His -hundred and second clause had been carried, with only nine divisions -against him of any consequence. Seven of the most material clauses had no -doubt been postponed, and the great bone of contention as to the two -superfluous farthings still remained before him; nevertheless he fondly -hoped that he would be able to send his bill complete to the House of -Lords before the end of July. What might be done in the way of amendments -there he had hitherto refused to consider. "If the peers choose to put -themselves in opposition to the whole nation, on a purely commercial -question, the responsibility of all evils that may follow must be at their -doors." This he had said as a commoner. A year or two at the furthest--or -more probably a few months--would make him a peer; and then no doubt he -would look at the matter in a wholly different light. But he worked at his -great measure with a diligence which at any rate deserved success; and he -now had with him a whole bevy of secretaries, private secretaries, chief -clerks, and accountants, all of whom Lady Glencora captivated by her -flattering ways and laughed at behind their backs. Mr. Bonteen was there -with his wife, repeatedly declaring to all his friends that England would -achieve the glories of decimal coinage by his blood and over his grave, -and Barrington Erle, who took things much more easily, and Lord Chiltern, -with his wife, who would occasionally ask her if she could explain to him -the value of a quint, and many others whom it may not be necessary to -name. Lord Fawn was not there. Lord Fawn, whose health had temporarily -given way beneath the pressing labours of the India board, was visiting -his estates in Tipperary. - -"She is married to-day, duke, down in Scotland," said Lady Glencora, -sitting close to the duke's ear, for the duke was a little deaf. They were -in the duke's small morning sitting-room, and no one else was present -excepting Madame Max Goesler. - -"Married to-morrow down in Scotland. Dear, dear! what is he?" The -profession to which Mr. Emilius belonged had been mentioned to the duke -more than once before. - -"He's some sort of a clergyman, duke. You went and heard him preach, -Madame Max. You can tell us what he's like." - -"Oh, yes; he's a clergyman of our Church," said Madame Goesler. - -"A clergyman of our Church; dear, dear! And married in Scotland! That -makes it stranger. I wonder what made a clergyman marry her?" - -"Money, duke," said Lady Glencora, speaking very loud. - -"Oh, ah, yes; money. So he'd got money; had he?" - -"Not a penny, duke; but she had." - -"Oh, ah, yes. I forgot. She was very well left; wasn't she? And so she has -married a clergyman without a penny. Dear, dear! Did not you say she was -very beautiful?" - -"Lovely!" - -"Let me see, you went and saw her, didn't you?" - -"I went to her twice, and got quite scolded about it. Plantagenet said -that if I wanted horrors I'd better go to Madame Tussaud. Didn't he, -Madame Max?" Madame Max smiled and nodded her head. - -"And what's the clergyman like?" asked the duke. - -"Now, my dear, you must take up the running," said Lady Glencora, dropping -her voice. "I ran after the lady but it was you who ran after the -gentleman." Then she raised her voice. "Madame Max will tell you all about -it, duke. She knows him very well." - -"You know him very well; do you? Dear, dear dear!" - -"I don't know him at all, duke, but I once went to hear him preach. He's -one of those men who string words together, and do a good deal of work -with a cambric pocket-handkerchief." - -"A gentleman?" asked the duke. - -"About as like a gentleman as you're like an archbishop," said Lady -Glencora. - -This tickled the duke amazingly. "He, he, he; I don't see why I shouldn't -be like an archbishop. If I hadn't happened to be a duke I should have -liked to be an archbishop. Both the archbishops take rank of me. I never -quite understood why that was, but they do. And these things never can be -altered when they're once settled. It's quite absurd nowadays since -they've cut the archbishops down so terribly. They were princes once, I -suppose, and had great power. But it's quite absurd now, and so they must -feel it. I have often thought about that a good deal, Glencora." - -"And I think about poor Mrs. Arch, who hasn't got any rank at all." - -"A great prelate having a wife does seem to be an absurdity," said Madame -Max, who had passed some years of her life in a Catholic country. - -"And the man is a cad; is he?" asked the duke. - -"A Bohemian Jew, duke, an impostor who has come over here to make a -fortune. We hear that he has a wife in Prague, and probably two or three -elsewhere. But he has got poor little Lizzie Eustace and all her money -into his grasp, and they who know him say that he's likely to keep it." - -"Dear, dear, dear!" - -"Barrington says that the best spec he knows out, for a younger son, would -be to go to Prague for the former wife and bring her back, with evidence -of the marriage. The poor little woman could not fail of being grateful to -the hero who would liberate her." - -"Dear, dear, dear!" said the duke. "And the diamonds never turned up after -all. I think that was a pity, because I knew the late man's father very -well. We used to be together a good deal at one time. He had a fine -property, and we used to live--but I can't just tell you how we used to -live. He, he, he!" - -"You had better tell us nothing about it, duke," said Madame Max. - -The affairs of our heroine were again discussed that evening, in another -part of the Priory. They were in the billiard-room in the evening, and Mr. -Bonteen was inveighing against the inadequacy of the law as it had been -brought to bear against the sinners who between them had succeeded in -making away with the Eustace diamonds. "It was a most unworthy conclusion -to such a plot," he said. "It always happens that they catch the small fry -and let the large fish escape." - -"Whom did you specially want to catch?" asked Lady Glencora. - -"Lady Eustace and Lord George de Bruce Carruthers, as he calls himself." - -"I quite agree with you, Mr. Bonteen, that it would be very nice to send -the brother of a marquis to Botany Bay or wherever they go now; and that -it would do a deal of good to have the widow of a baronet locked up in the -Penitentiary; but you see if they didn't happen to be guilty it would be -almost a shame to punish them for the sake of the example." - -"They ought to have been guilty," said Barrington Erle. - -"They were guilty," protested Mr. Bonteen. - -Mr. Palliser was enjoying ten minutes of recreation before he went back to -his letters. "I can't say that I attended to the case very closely," he -observed, "and perhaps, therefore, I am not, entitled to speak about it." - -"If people only spoke about what they attended to, how very little there -would be to say, eh, Mr. Bonteen?" This observation came, of course, from -Lady Glencora. - -"But as far as I could hear," continued Mr. Palliser, "Lord George -Carruthers cannot possibly have had anything to do with it. It was a -stupid mistake on the part of the police." - -"I'm not quite so sure, Mr. Palliser," said Bonteen. - -"I know Coldfoot told me so." Now, Sir Harry Coldfoot was at this time -Secretary of State for the home affairs, and in a matter of such -importance, of course, had an opinion of his own. - -"We all know that he had money dealings with Benjamin, the Jew," said Mrs. -Bonteen. - -"Why didn't he come forward as a witness when he was summoned?" asked Mrs. -Bonteen triumphantly. "And as for the woman, does anybody mean to say that -she should not have been indicted for perjury?" - -"The woman, as you are pleased to call her, is my particular friend," said -Lady Glencora. When Lady Glencora made any such statement as this--and she -often did make such statements--no one dared to answer her. It was -understood that Lady Glencora was not to be snubbed, though she was very -much given to snubbing others. She had attained this position for herself -by a mixture of beauty, rank, wealth, and courage, but the courage had, of -the four, been her greatest mainstay. - -Then Lord Chiltern, who was playing billiards with Barrington Erle, rapped -his cue down on the floor, and made a speech. - -"I never was so sick of anything in my life as I am of Lady Eustace. -People have talked about her now for the last six months." - -"Only three months, Lord Chiltern," said Lady Glencora in a tone of -rebuke. - -"And all that I can hear of her is that she has told a lot of lies and -lost a necklace." - -"When Lady Chiltern loses a necklace worth ten thousand pounds, there will -be talk of her," said Lady Glencora. - -At that moment Madame Max Goesler entered the room and whispered a word to -the hostess. She had just come from the duke, who could not bear the -racket of the billiard-room. "Wants to go to bed, does he? Very well. I'll -go to him." - -"He seems to be quite fatigued with his fascination about Lady Eustace." - -"I call that woman a perfect god-send. What should we have done without -her?" This Lady Glencora said almost to herself as she prepared to join -the duke. The duke had only one more observation to make before he retired -for the night. - -"I'm afraid, you know, that your friend hasn't what I call a good time -before her, Glencora." - -In this opinion of the Duke of Omnium, the readers of this story will -perhaps agree. - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Eustace Diamonds, by Anthony Trollope - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS *** - -This file should be named stdmd10.txt or stdmd10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, stdmd11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, stdmd10a.txt - -Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, -John R. 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