tions are
strange. They are unaccountable."

"He has an old friend to reside in his house?"

"It is not that. I have noticed him. His mind...he requires watching."

"And how long is it since you made this discovery?"

"One sees clearer perhaps when one is not quite happy."

"Not happy! Then it's for him that you turn the night to tears?"

Cornelia closed her lips. She divined that her betrayer must be close in
his confidence. She went shortly after to Emilia, whose secret at once
stood out bare to a kindled suspicion. There was no fear that Cornelia
would put her finger on it accusingly, or speak of it directly. She had
the sentimentalist's profound respect for the name and notion of love.
She addressed Emilia vaguely, bidding her keep guard on her emotions,
and telling her there was one test of the truth of masculine
protestations; this, Will he marry you? The which, if you are poor, is a
passably infallible test. Emilia sucked this in thoughtfully. She heard
that lovers were false. Why, then of course they were not like her
lover! Cornelia finished what she deemed her duty, and departed, while
Emilia thought: "I wonder whether he could be false to me;" and she
gave herself shrewd half-delicious jarrings of pain, forcing herself to
contemplate the impossible thing.

She was in this state when Mrs. Chump came across her, and with a slight
pressure of a sovereign into her hand, said: "There, it's for you,
little Belloni! and I see ye've been thinkin' me one o' the scrape-hards
and close-fists. It's Pole who keeps me low, on purpose. And I'm a
wretch if I haven't my purse full, so you see I'm all in the dark in
the house, and don't know half so much as the sluts o' the kitchen. So,
ye'll tell me, little Belloni, is Arr'bella goin' to marry Mr. Annybody?
And is Cornelia goin' to marry Sir Tickleham? And whether Mr. Wilfrud's
goin' to marry Lady Charlotte Chill'nworth? Becas, my dear, there's
Arr'bella, who's sharp, she is, as a North-easter in January, (which
Chump 'd cry out for, for the sake of his ships, poor fella--he kneelin'
by 's bedside in a long nightgown and lookin' just twice what he was!)
she has me like a nail to my vary words, and shows me that nothin' can
happen betas o' what I've said. And Cornelia--if ye'll fancy a tall
codfish on its tail: 'Mrs. Chump, I beg ye'll not go to believe
annything of me.' So I says to her, 'Cornelia! my dear! do ye think,
now, it's true that Chump went and marrud his coo