in mind and body," reflected Lady
Bellamy, as she stepped into her carriage. "Really, though I try to
hate her, I can find it in my heart to be sorry for her. Indeed, I am
not sure that I do not like her; certainly I respect her. But she has
come in my path and must be crushed--my own safety demands it. At
least, she is worth crushing, and the game is fair, for perhaps she
will crush me. I should not be surprised; there is a judgment in those
grey eyes of hers--Qui vivra verra. Home, William."

CHAPTER XXXVII

Angela's appeal for protection set Philip thinking.

As the reader is aware, his sole motive in consenting to become, as it
were, a sleeping partner in the shameful plot, of which his innocent
daughter was the object, was to obtain possession of his lost
inheritance, and it now occurred to him that even should that plot
succeed, which he very greatly doubted, nothing had as yet been
settled as to the terms upon which it was to be reconveyed to him. The
whole affair was excessively repugnant to him: indeed, he regarded the
prospect of its success with little less than terror, only his greed
over-mastered his fear.

But on one point he was very clear: it should not succeed except upon
the very best of terms for himself, his daughter should not be
sacrificed unless the price paid for the victim was positively
princely, such guilt was not to be incurred for a bagatelle. If George
married Angela, the Isleworth estates must pass back into his hands
for a very low sum indeed. But would his cousin be willing to accept
such a sum? That was the rub, and that, too, was what must be made
clear without any further delay. He had no wish to see Angela put to
needless suffering, suffering which would not bring an equivalent with
it, and which might, on the contrary, entail consequences upon himself
that he shuddered to think of.

Curiously enough, however, he had of late been signally free from his
superstitious fears; indeed, since the night when he had so astonished
Arthur by his outbreak about the shadows on the wall, no fit had come
to trouble him, and he was beginning to look upon the whole thing as
an evil dream, a nightmare that he had at last lived down. But still
the nightmare might return, and he was not going to run the risk
unless he was very well paid for it. And so he determined to offer a
price so low for the property that no man in his senses would accept
it, and then wrote a