grievous vexation which would by no means lessen the
effect of her loss. She did not understand him, but finding that he
was quite in earnest she directed that the box should be again taken
to her own chamber. Lord George suggested that it should be entrusted
to the landlord; and for a moment or two Lizzie submitted to the
idea. But she stood for that moment thinking of it, and then decided
that the box should go to her own room. "There's no knowing what that
Mr. Camperdown mightn't do," she whispered to Lord George. The porter
and the tall footman, between them, staggered along under their load,
and the iron box was again deposited in the bedroom of the Carlisle
inn.

The evening at Carlisle was spent very pleasantly. The ladies agreed
that they would not dress,--but of course they did so with more or
less of care. Lizzie made herself to look very pretty, though the
skirt of the gown in which she came down was that which she had worn
during the journey. Pointing this out with much triumph, she accused
Mrs. Carbuncle and Lucinda of great treachery, in that they had not
adhered to any vestige of their travelling raiment. But the rancour
was not vehement, and the evening was passed pleasantly. Lord George
was infinitely petted by the three Houris around him, and Lizzie
called him a Corsair to his face. "And you are the Medora," said Mrs.
Carbuncle.

"Oh no. That is your place,--certainly," said Lizzie.

"What a pity Sir Griffin isn't here," said Mrs. Carbuncle, "that we
might call him the Giaour." Lucinda shuddered, without any attempt at
concealing her shudder. "That's all very well, Lucinda, but I think
Sir Griffin would make a very good Giaour."

"Pray don't, aunt. Let one forget it all just for a moment."

"I wonder what Sir Griffin would say if he was to hear this!" said
Lord George.

Late in the evening Lord George strolled out, and of course the
ladies discussed his character in his absence. Mrs. Carbuncle
declared that he was the soul of honour. In regard to her own feeling
for him, she averred that no woman had ever had a truer friend. Any
other sentiment was of course out of the question,--for was she not
a married woman? Had it not been for that accident, Mrs. Carbuncle
really thought that she could have given her heart to Lord George.
Lucinda declared that she always regarded him as a kind of
supplementary father. "I suppose he is a year or two older than
Sir Griffin," said Lizzie. "Lady Eustace, why s