oman
and say that she did it."

"Didn't you do it? I thought you did, and that you took a great deal
of pride in the doing of it. When you made him offer to her down in
Scotland, and made her accept him, you were so proud that you could
hardly hold yourself. What will you do now? Go on just as though
nothing had happened?"

"I don't know what we shall do. There will be so many things to be
paid."

"I should think there would,--and you can hardly expect Sir Griffin
to pay for them. You'll have to take her away somewhere. You'll find
that she can't remain here. And that other woman will be in prison
before the week's over, I should say,--unless she runs away."

There was not much of comfort to be obtained by any of them from
Lord George, who was quite as harsh to Mrs. Carbuncle as he had been
to Lizzie Eustace. He remained in Hertford Street for an hour, and
then took his leave, saying that he thought that he also should go
abroad. "I didn't think," he said, "that anything could have hurt my
character much; but, upon my word, between you and Lady Eustace, I
begin to find that in every deep there may be a lower depth. All the
town has given me credit for stealing her ladyship's necklace, and
now I shall be mixed up in this mock marriage. I shouldn't wonder if
Rooper were to send his bill in to me,"--Mr. Rooper was the keeper of
the hotel in Albemarle Street,--"I think I shall follow Sir Griffin
abroad. You have made England too hot to hold me." And so he left
them.

The evening of that day was a terrible time to the three ladies in
Hertford Street,--and the following day was almost worse. Nobody came
to see them, and not one of them dared to speak of the future. For
the third day, the Wednesday, Lady Eustace had made her appointment
with Mr. Camperdown, having written to the attorney, in compliance
with the pressing advice of Major Mackintosh, to name an hour. Mr.
Camperdown had written again, sending his compliments, and saying
that he would receive Lady Eustace at the time fixed by her. The
prospect of this interview was very bad, but even this was hardly so
oppressive as the actual existing wretchedness of that house. Mrs.
Carbuncle, whom Lizzie had always known as high-spirited, bold, and
almost domineering, was altogether prostrated by her misfortunes. She
was querulous, lachrymose, and utterly despondent. From what Lizzie
now learned, her hostess was enveloped in a mass of debt which would
have been hopeless,