ord Fawn that nothing shall induce me ever to see him
again."

"And cousin Frank?"

"My cousin attends me down to Scotland."

"Oh-h. That makes it altogether another thing. He attends you down to
Scotland;--does he? Does Mr. Emilius go too?"

"I believe you are trying to insult me, sir."

"You can't expect but what a man should be a little jealous, when he
has been so completely cut out himself. There was a time, you know,
when even cousin Frank wasn't a better fellow than myself."

"Much you thought about it, Lord George."

"Well;--I did. I thought about it a good deal, my lady. And I liked
the idea of it very much." Lizzie pricked up her ears. In spite of
all his harshness, could it be that he should be the Corsair still?
"I am a rambling, uneasy, ill-to-do sort of man; but still I thought
about it. You are pretty, you know,--uncommonly pretty."

"Don't, Lord George."

"And I'll acknowledge that the income goes for much. I suppose that's
real at any rate?"

"Well;--I hope so. Of course it's real. And so is the prettiness,
Lord George;--if there is any."

"I never doubted that, Lady Eustace. But when it came to my thinking
that you had stolen the diamonds, and you thinking that I had stolen
the box--! I'm not a man to stand on trifles, but, by George, it
wouldn't do then."

"Who wanted it to do?" said Lizzie. "Go away. You are very unkind to
me. I hope I may never see you again. I believe you care more for
that odious vulgar woman down-stairs than you do for anybody else in
the world."

"Ah, dear! I have known her for many years, Lizzie, and that both
covers and discovers many faults. One learns to know how bad one's
old friends are, but then one forgives them, because they are old
friends."

"You can't forgive me,--because I'm bad, and only a new friend."

"Yes, I will. I forgive you all, and hope you may do well yet. If
I may give you one bit of advice at parting, it is to caution you
against being clever when there is nothing to get by it."

"I ain't clever at all," said Lizzie, beginning to whimper.

"Good-bye, my dear."

"Good-bye," said Lizzie. He took her hand in one of his; patted her
on the head with the other, as though she had been a child, and then
he left her.

CHAPTER LXXVI

Lizzie Returns to Scotland

Frank Greystock, the writer fears, will not have recommended himself
to those readers of this tale who think the part of lover to
the heroine should be always filled by