n minutes at
the Paddington railway station, that it might possibly be so if she
played her cards well. And then how glorious would be the result! Sir
Francis Geraldine had squeezed her hand. If he might be made to go
on squeezing her hand sufficiently, how great might be the effect
produced! Lady Geraldine! How beautiful was the sound! She thought
that within all the bounds of the English peerage,--and she believed
that she knew that those bounds included the Baronets,--there was no
sweeter, no more glorious, no more aristocratic appellation. Lady
Geraldine! What a change, what a blissful change would that be!

When she thought of the chill of her present life, of its want of
interest, of its insipid loneliness, and then told herself what might
be in store for her should she live to become Lady Geraldine, she
declared to herself that even though the chance might be very small,
the greatness of the reward if gained would justify the effort. Lady
Geraldine! And she saw no reason why her chance should be so very
small. She had a cousin with a pedigree longer than even that of Sir
Francis,--Count Altifiorla, who, indeed, had no money, but was a
genuine Count. She herself had a nice little sum of money, quite
enough to be agreeable to a gentleman who might be somewhat out at
elbows from the effects of Newmarket. And she did not think too
little of her own personal appearance. She knew that she had a good
wearing complexion, and that her features were of that sort which did
not yield very readily to the hand of time. There were none of the
endearing dimples of early youth, none of the special brightness
of English feminine loveliness, none of the fresh tints of sweet
girlhood; but Miss Altifiorla boasted to herself that she would look
the British aristocratic matron very well. She certainly had not that
Juno beauty which Cecilia Holt could boast, that beauty which could
be so severe to all chance comers, but which could melt at once and
become soft and sweet and easy to one favoured individual. Miss
Altifiorla acknowledged to herself that it was her nature always to
remain outwardly the same to all men. But then dress and diamonds,
and all the applied paraphernalia of aristocracy would, she felt, go
far with her.

If Sir Francis could be once got to admire her, she was sure that
Sir Francis would never be driven to repent of his bargain from any
falling off on her part. She thought that she would know how to be
the master