agement; but that I cannot
allow my wife to keep the diamonds which belong of right
to her late husband's family. You may be sure that I
should not be thus urgent had I not taken steps to
ascertain that I am right in my judgment. In the meantime
you had better consult my mother.

Yours affectionately,

FAWN.

CHAPTER XV

"I'll Give You a Hundred Guinea Brooch"

There had been another "affair" in the house that morning, though of
a nature very different to the "rumpus" which had occurred between
Lord Fawn and Lady Eustace. Lady Fawn had been closeted with Lucy,
and had expressed her opinion of the impropriety of Frank Greystock's
visit. "I suppose he came to see his cousin," said Lady Fawn, anxious
to begin with some apology for such conduct.

"I cannot tell," said Lucy. "Perhaps he did. I think he said so.
I think he cared more to see me." Then Lady Fawn was obliged to
express her opinion, and she did so, uttering many words of wisdom.
Frank Greystock, had he intended to sacrifice his prospects by a
disinterested marriage, would have spoken out before now. He was old
enough to have made up his mind on such a subject, and he had not
spoken out. He did not mean marriage. That was quite evident to Lady
Fawn;--and her dear Lucy was revelling in hopes which would make her
miserable. If Lucy could only have known of the letter, which was
already her own property though lying in the pillar letter-box in
Fleet Street, and which had not already been sent down and delivered
simply because it was Sunday morning! But she was very brave. "He
does love me," she said. "He told me so."

"Oh, Lucy;--that is worse and worse. A man to tell you that he loves
you, and yet not ask you to be his wife!"

"I am contented," said Lucy. That assertion, however, could hardly
have been true.

"Contented! And did you tell him that you returned his love?"

"He knew it without my telling him," said Lucy. It was so hard upon
her that she should be so interrogated while that letter was lying in
the iron box!

"Dear Lucy, this must not be," said Lady Fawn. "You are preparing for
yourself inexpressible misery."

"I have done nothing wrong, Lady Fawn."

"No, my dear;--no. I do not say you have been wrong. But I think he
is wrong,--so wrong! I call it wicked. I do indeed. For your own sake
you should endeavour to forget him."

"I will never forget him!" said Lucy. "To think of him is everything
to me. He told