inda,--in the midst of most contemptuous
indifference on Lucinda's part. She could hardly be got to allow
the milliners to fit the dresses to her body, and positively
refused to thrust her feet into certain golden-heeled boots with
brightly-bronzed toes, which were a great feature among the raiment.
Nobody knew it except Mrs. Carbuncle and the maid,--even Lizzie
Eustace did not know it;--but once the bride absolutely ran amuck
among the finery, scattering the laces here and there, pitching the
glove-boxes under the bed, chucking the golden-heeled boots into
the fire-place, and exhibiting quite a tempest of fury against one
of the finest shows of petticoats ever arranged with a view to the
admiration and envy of female friends. But all this Mrs. Carbuncle
bore, and still persevered. The thing was so nearly done now that she
could endure to persevere though the provocation to abandon it was so
great. She had even ceased to find fault with her niece,--but went on
in silence counting the hours till the trouble should be taken off
her own shoulders and placed on those of Sir Griffin. It was a great
thing to her, almost more than she had expected, that neither Lucinda
nor Sir Griffin should have positively declined the marriage. It was
impossible that either should retreat from it now.

Luckily for Mrs. Carbuncle, Sir Griffin took delight in the show.
He did this after a bearish fashion, putting his finger upon little
flaws with an intelligence for which Mrs. Carbuncle had not hitherto
given him credit. As to certain ornaments, he observed that the
silver was plated and the gold ormolu. A "rope" of pearls he at once
detected as being false,--and after fingering certain lace he turned
up his nose and shook his head. Then, on the Sunday, in Albemarle
Street, he pointed out to Mrs. Carbuncle sundry articles which
he had seen in the bedroom on the Saturday. "But, my dear Sir
Griffin,--that's of course," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "Oh;--that's of
course, is it?" said Sir Griffin, turning up his nose again. "Where
did that Delph bowl come from?" "It is one of Mortlock's finest
Etruscan vases," said Mrs. Carbuncle. "Oh,--I thought that Etruscan
vases came from--from somewhere in Greece or Italy," said Sir
Griffin. "I declare that you are shocking," said Mrs. Carbuncle,
struggling to maintain her good humour.

He passed hours of the Sunday in Hertford Street, and Lord George
also was there for some time. Lizzie, who could hardly devote h