herself back into the corner of her carriage, and did not utter
another word till she reached Portray Castle. He handed her out of
the railway carriage, and into her own vehicle which was waiting for
them, attended to the maid, and got the luggage; but still she did
not speak. It would be better that she should quarrel with him. That
little snake, Lucy, would of course now tell him of the meeting
between them in Hertford Street, after which anything but quarrelling
would be impossible. What a fool the man must be, what an idiot, what
a soft-hearted, mean-spirited fellow! Lucy, by her sly, quiet little
stratagems, had got him once to speak the word, and now he had not
courage enough to go back from it! He had less strength of will even
than Lord Fawn! What she offered to him would be the making of him.
With his position, his seat in Parliament, such a country house as
Portray Castle, and the income which she would give him, there was
nothing that he might not reach! And he was so infirm of purpose,
that though he had hankered after it all, he would not open his hand
to take it,--because he was afraid of such a little thing as Lucy
Morris! It was thus that she thought of him as she leaned back in
the carriage without speaking. In giving her all that is due to her,
we must acknowledge that she had less feeling of the injury done to
her charms as a woman than might have been expected. That she hated
Lucy was a matter of course;--and equally so that she should be
very angry with Frank Greystock. But the anger arose from general
disappointment, rather than from any sense of her own despised
beauty. "Ah, now I shall see my child," she said, as the carriage
stopped at the castle-gate.

When Frank Greystock went to his supper, Miss Macnulty brought to him
his cousin's compliments with a message saying that she was too weary
to see him again that night. The message had been intended to be curt
and uncourteous, but Miss Macnulty had softened it,--so that no harm
was done. "She must be very weary," said Frank.

"I suppose though that nothing would ever really tire Lady Eustace,"
said Miss Macnulty. "When she is excited nothing will tire her.
Perhaps the journey has been dull."

"Exceedingly dull," said Frank, as he helped himself to the collops
which the Portray cook had prepared for his supper.

Miss Macnulty was very attentive to him, and had many questions to
ask. About the necklace she hardly dared to speak, merely observi