I'll come and find out all about it to-morrow."

"Mind you do," said Lizzie. Then Frank took his departure, and Lizzie
did as she was bidden. "You remain in here, Julia," she said,--"so as
to be near if I want you. She shall come into the front room." Then,
absolutely shaking with fear of the approaching evil, she took her
seat in the largest drawing-room. There was still a little delay.
Time was given to Frank Greystock to get away, and to do so without
meeting Lady Linlithgow in the passage. The message was conveyed by
Miss Macnulty to the servant, and the same servant opened the front
door for Frank before he delivered it. Lady Linlithgow, too, though
very strong, was old. She was slow, or perhaps it might more properly
be said she was stately in her movements. She was one of those old
women who are undoubtedly old women,--who in the remembrance of
younger people seem always to have been old women,--but on whom old
age appears to have no debilitating effects. If the hand of Lady
Linlithgow ever trembled, it trembled from anger;--if her foot ever
faltered, it faltered for effect. In her way Lady Linlithgow was
a very powerful human being. She knew nothing of fear, nothing of
charity, nothing of mercy, and nothing of the softness of love. She
had no imagination. She was worldly, covetous, and not unfrequently
cruel. But she meant to be true and honest, though she often failed
in her meaning;--and she had an idea of her duty in life. She was not
self-indulgent. She was as hard as an oak post,--but then she was
also as trustworthy. No human being liked her;--but she had the good
word of a great many human beings. At great cost to her own comfort
she had endeavoured to do her duty to her niece, Lizzie Greystock,
when Lizzie was homeless. Undoubtedly Lizzie's bed, while it had been
spread under her aunt's roof, had not been one of roses; but such as
it had been, she had endured to occupy it while it served her needs.
She had constrained herself to bear her aunt;--but from the moment
of her escape she had chosen to reject her aunt altogether. Now her
aunt's heavy step was heard upon the stairs! Lizzie also was a brave
woman after a certain fashion. She could dare to incur a great danger
for an adequate object. But she was too young as yet to have become
mistress of that persistent courage which was Lady Linlithgow's
peculiar possession.

When the countess entered the drawing-room Lizzie rose upon her
legs, but did not com