phie of whom she was so anxious to rid herself that in all her
plans there was some little under-plot to that effect; Sophie whom she
knew to be dishonest to her in any way that might make dishonesty
profitable; and before Sophie had left her, Sophie had engaged herself
to go with her dear friend to the Isle of Wight! As a matter of course,
Sophie was to be franked on this expedition. On such expeditions Sophies
are always franked, as a matter of course. And Sophie would travel with
all imaginable luxury--a matter to which Sophie was by no means
indifferent, though her own private life was conducted with an economy
that was not luxurious. But, although all these good things came in
Sophie's way, she contrived to make it appear that she was devoting
herself in a manner that was almost sacrificial to the friend of her
bosom. At the same time Lady Ongar sent a few words, as a message, to
the count by his sister. Lady Ongar, having told to Madam Gordeloup the
story of the document which had reached her, and having described her
own answer, was much commended by her friend.

"You are quite right, dear, quite. Of course I am fond of my brother.
Edouard and I have always been the best of friends. But that does not
make me think you ought to give yourself to him. Bah! Why should a woman
give away everything? Edouard is a fine fellow. But what is that? Fine
fellows like to have all the money themselves."

"Will you tell him--from me," said Lady Ongar, "that I will take it as a
kindness on his part if he will abstain from coming to my house. I
certainly shall not see him with my own consent."

Sophie promised, and probably gave the message; but when she also
informed Edouard of Lady Ongar's intended visit to the Isle of Wight,
telling him the day on which they were going and the precise spot, with
the name of the hotel at which they were to stay, she went a little
beyond the commission which her dearest friend had given her.

At the western end of the Isle of Wight, and on the further shore, about
three miles from the point of the island which we call the Needles,
there is a little break in the cliff, known to all the stay-at-home
English travellers as Freshwater Gate. Here there is a cluster of
cottages and two inns, and a few bathing-boxes, and ready access by easy
ascents to the breezy downs on either side, over which the sea air blows
with all its salt and wholesome sweetness. At one of these two inns Lady
Ongar located he