n terrible to her, and the diamonds had never been for a
moment off her mind. Perhaps the worst of it all was that her own
man-servant and maid-servant had heard the claim which had been so
violently made by Mr. Camperdown. There are people, in that respect
very fortunately circumstanced, whose servants, as a matter of
course, know all their affairs, have an interest in their concerns,
sympathise with their demands, feel their wants, and are absolutely
at one with them. But in such cases the servants are really known,
and are almost as completely a part of the family as the sons and
daughters. There may be disruptions and quarrels; causes may arise
for ending the existing condition of things; but while this condition
lasts, the servants in such households are, for the most part, only
too well inclined to fight the battles of their employers. Mr. Binns,
the butler, would almost foam at the mouth if it were suggested to
him that the plate at Silvercup Hall was not the undoubted property
of the old squire; and Mrs. Pouncebox could not be made to believe,
by any amount of human evidence, that the jewels which her lady has
worn for the last fifteen years are not her ladyship's very own.
Binns would fight for the plate, and so would Pouncebox for the
jewels, almost till they were cut to pieces. The preservation of
these treasures on behalf of those who paid them their wages and fed
them, who occasionally scolded them, but always succoured them, would
be their point of honour. No torture would get the key of the cellar
from Binns; no threats extract from Pouncebox a secret of the toilet.
But poor Lizzie Eustace had no Binns and no Pouncebox. They are
plants that grow slowly. There was still too much of the mushroom
about Lady Eustace to permit of her possessing such treasures. Her
footman was six feet high, was not bad looking, and was called
Thomas. She knew no more about him, and was far too wise to expect
sympathy from him, or other aid than the work for which she paid
him. Her own maid was somewhat nearer to her; but not much nearer.
The girl's name was Patience Crabstick, and she could do hair well.
Lizzie knew but little more of her than that.

Lizzie considered herself still to be engaged to be married to Lord
Fawn,--but there was no sympathy to be had in that quarter. Frank
Greystock might be induced to sympathise with her;--but hardly after
the fashion which Lizzie desired. And then sympathy in that direction
would b