"I Cannot Do It"

The Saturday and the Sunday Lizzie passed in outward tranquillity,
though doubtless her mind was greatly disturbed. She said nothing of
what had passed between her and Major Mackintosh, explaining that
his visit had been made solely with the object of informing her that
Mr. Benjamin was to be sent home from Vienna, but that the diamonds
were gone for ever. She had, as she declared to herself, agreed with
Major Mackintosh that she would not go to Mr. Camperdown till the
Tuesday,--justifying her delay by her solicitude in reference to Miss
Roanoke's marriage; and therefore these two days were her own. After
them would come a totally altered phase of existence. All the world
would know the history of the diamonds,--cousin Frank, and Lord Fawn,
and John Eustace, and Mrs. Carbuncle, and the Bobsborough people,
and Lady Glencora, and that old vulturess, her aunt, the Countess
of Linlithgow. It must come now;--but she had two days in which she
could be quiet and think of her position. She would, she thought,
send one of her letters to Lord Fawn before she went to Mr.
Camperdown;--but which should she send? Or should she write a third
explaining the whole matter in sweetly piteous feminine terms, and
swearing that the only remaining feeling in her bosom was a devoted
affection to the man who had now twice promised to be her husband?

In the meantime the preparations for the great marriage went on.
Mrs. Carbuncle spent her time busily between Lucinda's bedchamber
and the banqueting hall in Albemarle Street. In spite of pecuniary
difficulties the trousseau was to be a wonder; and even Lizzie was
astonished at the jewellery which that indefatigable woman had
collected together for a preliminary show in Hertford Street. She had
spent hours at Howell and James's, and had made marvellous bargains
there and elsewhere. Things were sent for selection, of which the
greater portion were to be returned, but all were kept for the show.
The same things which were shown to separate friends in Hertford
Street as part of the trousseau on Friday and Saturday were carried
over to Albemarle Street on the Sunday, so as to add to the
quasi-public exhibition of presents on the Monday. The money expended
had gone very far. The most had been made of a failing credit. Every
particle of friendly generosity had been so manipulated as to add
to the external magnificence. And Mrs. Carbuncle had done all this
without any help from Luc