might mar his strength and beauty by falling into a pit. For Lizzie
Eustace Lucy Morris had now no forgiveness. Lucy had almost forgotten
Lizzie's lies, and her proffered bribe, and all her meanness, when
she made that visit to Hertford Street. Then, when Lizzie claimed
this man as her lover, a full remembrance of all the woman's
iniquities came back on Lucy's mind. The statement that Lizzie then
made, Lucy did believe. She did think that Frank, her Frank, the man
whom she worshipped, was to take this harpy to his bosom as his wife.
And if it were to be so, was it not better that she should be so
told? But, from that moment, poor Lizzie's sins were ranker to Lucy
Morris than even to Mr. Camperdown or Mrs. Hittaway. She could not
refrain from saying a word even to old Lady Linlithgow. The countess
had called her niece a little liar. "Liar!" said Lucy. "I do not
think Satan himself can lie as she does." "Heighty-tighty," said the
countess. "I suppose, then, there's to be a match between Lady Satan
and her cousin Frank?" "They can do as they like about that," said
Lucy, walking out of the room.

Then came the paragraph in the fashionable evening newspaper; after
that, the report of the examination before the magistrate, and
then certain information that Lady Eustace was about to proceed to
Scotland together with her cousin Mr. Greystock, the Member for
Bobsborough. "It is a large income," said the countess; "but, upon my
word, she's dear at the money." Lucy did not speak, but she bit her
lip till the blood ran into her mouth. She was going down to Fawn
Court almost immediately, to stay there with her old friends till she
should be able to find some permanent home for herself. Once, and
once only, would she endure discussion, and then the matter should be
banished for ever from her tongue.

Early on the appointed morning Frank Greystock, with a couple of
cabs, was at Mrs. Carbuncle's door in Hertford Street. Lizzie had
agreed to start by a very early train,--at eight a.m.,--so that
she might get through to Portray in one day. It had been thought
expedient, both by herself and by her cousin, that for the present
there should be no more sleeping at the Carlisle hotel. The robbery
was probably still talked about in that establishment; and the report
of the proceedings at the police-court had, no doubt, travelled as
far north as the border city. It was to be a long day, and could
hardly be other than sad. Lizzie, understand