t well of her, had hardly believed her
to be honest, and had rejoiced when he found that circumstances
rather than his own judgment had rescued him from that evil. He had
professed to be delighted when Lord Fawn was accepted,--as being
happy to think that his somewhat dangerous cousin was provided with
so safe a husband; and, when he had first heard of the necklace, he
had expressed an opinion that of course it would be given up. In all
this then he had shown no strong loyalty to his cousin, no very dear
friendship, nothing to make those who knew him feel that he would
buckle on armour in her cause. But of late,--and that, too, since his
engagement with Lucy,--he had stood up very stoutly as her friend,
and the armour was being buckled on. He had not scrupled to say that
he meant to see her through this business with Lord Fawn, and had
somewhat astonished Mr. Camperdown by raising a doubt on the question
of the necklace. "He can't but know that she has no more right to it
than I have," Mr. Camperdown had said to his son with indignation.
Mr. Camperdown was becoming unhappy about the necklace, not quite
knowing how to proceed in the matter.

In the meantime Frank had obeyed his better instincts, and had asked
Lucy Morris to be his wife. He had gone to Fawn Court in compliance
with a promise to Lizzie Eustace, that he would call upon her there.
He had walked with Lucy because he was at Fawn Court. And he had
written to Lucy because of the words he had spoken during the walk.
In all this the matter had arranged itself as such matters do, and
there was nothing, in truth, to be regretted. He really did love the
girl with all his heart. It may, perhaps, be said that he had never
in truth loved any other woman. In the best humours of his mind he
would tell himself,--had from old times told himself often,--that
unless he married Lucy Morris he could never marry at all. When his
mother, knowing that poor Lucy was penniless, had, as mothers will
do, begged him to beware, he had spoken up for his love honestly,
declaring to her that in his eyes there was no woman living equal to
Lucy Morris. The reader has seen him with the words almost on his
tongue with which to offer his hand to his cousin, Lizzie Eustace,
knowing as he did so that his heart had been given to Lucy,--knowing
also that Lucy's heart had been given to him! But he had not done it,
and the better humour had prevailed.

Within the figure and frame and clothes and cu