ut left her card and a
note. She had not liked, she said, to leave town without calling,
though she would not seek to be admitted. She hoped that Mrs. Lopez
was recovering her health, and trusted that on her return to town she
might be allowed to renew her acquaintance. The note was very simple,
and could not be taken as other than friendly. If she had been
simply Mrs. Palliser, and her husband had been a junior clerk in
the Treasury, such a visit would have been a courtesy; and it was
not less so because it was made by the Duchess of Omnium and by
the wife of the Prime Minister. But yet among all the poor widow's
acquaintances she was the only one who had ventured to call since
Lopez had destroyed himself. Mrs. Roby had been told not to come.
Lady Eustace had been sternly rejected. Even old Mrs. Fletcher when
she had been up in town had, after a very solemn meeting with Mr.
Wharton, contented herself with sending her love. It had come to pass
that the idea of being immured was growing to be natural to Emily
herself. The longer that it was continued the more did it seem to be
impossible to her that she should break from her seclusion. But yet
she was gratified by the note from the Duchess.

"She means to be civil, papa."

"Oh yes;--but there are people whose civility I don't want."

"Certainly. I did not want the civility of that horrid Lady Eustace.
But I can understand this. She thinks that she did Ferdinand an
injury."

"When you begin, my dear,--and I hope it will be soon,--to get back
to the world, you will find it more comfortable, I think, to find
yourself among your own people."

"I don't want to go back," she said, sobbing bitterly.

"But I want you to go back. All who know you want you to go back.
Only don't begin at that end."

"You don't suppose, papa, that I wish to go to the Duchess?"

"I wish you to go somewhere. It can't be good for you to remain here.
Indeed I shall think it wicked, or at any rate weak, if you continue
to seclude yourself."

"Where shall I go?" she said, imploringly.

"To Wharton. I certainly think you ought to go there first."

"If you would go, papa, and leave me here,--just this once. Next year
I will go,--if they ask me."

"When I may be dead, for aught that any of us know."

"Do not say that, papa. Of course any one may die."

"I certainly shall not go without you. You may take that as certain.
Is it likely that I should leave you alone in August and September in