ending to
have read, lying about books, and making up her market of literature
for outside admiration at the easiest possible cost of trouble. And
she had some dream of being in love, and would take delight even in
building castles in the air, which she would people with friends
and lovers whom she would make happy with the most open-hearted
benevolence. She had theoretical ideas of life which were not
bad,--but in practice, she had gained her objects, and she was in a
hurry to have liberty to enjoy them.

There was considerable anxiety in the palace in reference to the
future mode of life of Lady Eustace. Had it not been for that
baby-heir, of course there would have been no cause for interference;
but the rights of that baby were so serious and important that it was
almost impossible not to interfere. The mother, however, gave some
little signs that she did not intend to submit to much interference,
and there was no real reason why she should not be as free as
air. But did she really intend to go down to Portray Castle all
alone;--that is, with her baby and nurses? This was ended by an
arrangement, in accordance with which she was accompanied by her
eldest cousin, Ellinor Greystock, a lady who was just ten years
her senior. There could hardly be a better woman than Ellinor
Greystock,--or a more good-humoured, kindly being. After many debates
in the deanery and in the palace,--for there was much friendship
between the two ecclesiastical establishments,--the offer was made
and the advice given. Ellinor had accepted the martyrdom on the
understanding that if the advice were accepted she was to remain at
Portray Castle for three months. After a long discussion between Lady
Eustace and the bishop's wife the offer was accepted, and the two
ladies went to Scotland together.

During those three months the widow still bided her time. Of her
future ideas of life she said not a word to her companion. Of her
infant she said very little. She would talk of books,--choosing
such books as her cousin did not read; and she would interlard her
conversation with much Italian, because her cousin did not know
the language. There was a carriage kept by the widow, and they had
themselves driven out together. Of real companionship there was
none. Lizzie was biding her time, and at the end of the three months
Miss Greystock thankfully, and, indeed, of necessity, returned to
Bobsborough. "I've done no good," she said to her mother, "and have