she could add nothing to
its insolence, let her study it as she might. And, she thought, as
she read it for the fifth time, that it sounded as though it had been
written before her receipt of the final note from himself, and that
it would, therefore, irritate him the more.

This was to be the last week of her sojourn in town, and then she was
to go down and bury herself at Portray, with no other companionship
than that of the faithful Macnulty, who had been left in Scotland for
the last three months as nurse-in-chief to the little heir. She must
go and give her evidence before the magistrate on Friday, as to which
she had already received an odious slip of paper;--but Frank would
accompany her. Other misfortunes had passed off so lightly that she
hardly dreaded this. She did not quite understand why she was to
be so banished, and thought much on the subject. She had submitted
herself to Frank's advice when first she had begun to fear that her
troubles would be insuperable. Her troubles were now disappearing;
and, as for Frank,--what was Frank to her, that she should obey him?
Nevertheless, her trunks were being already packed, and she knew that
she must go. He was to accompany her on her journey, and she would
still have one more chance with him.

As she was thinking of all this, Mr. Emilius, the clergyman, was
announced. In her loneliness she was delighted to receive any
visitor, and she knew that Mr. Emilius would be at least courteous to
her. When he had seated himself, he at once began to talk about the
misfortune of the unaccomplished marriage, and in a very low voice
hinted that from the beginning to end there had been something wrong.
He had always feared that an alliance based on a footing that was so
openly "pecuniary,"--he declared that the word pecuniary expressed
his meaning better than any other epithet,--could not lead to
matrimonial happiness. "We all know," said he, "that our dear
friend, Mrs. Carbuncle, had views of her own quite distinct from her
niece's happiness. I have the greatest possible respect for Mrs.
Carbuncle,--and I may say esteem; but it is impossible to live long
in any degree of intimacy with Mrs. Carbuncle without seeing that she
is--mercenary."

"Mercenary;--indeed she is," said Lizzie.

"You have observed it? Oh, yes; it is so, and it casts a shadow over
a character which otherwise has so much to charm."

"She is the most insolent and the most ungrateful woman that I ever
hear