est for her to have recourse to "her own
broad waves," as she called them even to herself. It was within the
"friendly depths of her own rock-girt ocean" that she should find a
grave for her great trouble. But now her back was to the sea, and
she could hardly insist on returning to Portray without exciting a
suspicion that might be fatal to her.

And then might it not be possible to get altogether quit of the
diamonds and yet to retain the power of future possession? She knew
that she was running into debt, and that money would, some day, be
much needed. Her acquaintance with Mr. Benjamin, the jeweller, was
a fact often present to her mind. She might not be able to get ten
thousand pounds from Mr. Benjamin;--but if she could get eight, or
six, or even five, how pleasant would it be! If she could put away
the diamonds for three or four years,--if she could so hide them
that no human eyes could see them till she should again produce them
to the light,--surely, after so long an interval, they might be
made available! But where should be found such hiding-place? She
understood well how great was the peril while the necklace was in
her own immediate keeping. Any accident might discover it, and if
the slightest suspicion were aroused, the police would come upon her
with violence and discover it. But surely there must be some such
hiding-place,--if only she could think of it! Then her mind reverted
to all the stories she had ever heard of mysterious villanies. There
must be some way of accomplishing this thing, if she could only
bring her mind to work upon it exclusively. A hole dug deep into the
ground;--would not that be the place? But then, where should the hole
be dug? In what spot should she trust the earth? If anywhere, it
must be at Portray. But now she was going from Portray to London. It
seemed to her to be certain that she could dig no hole in London that
would be secret to herself. Nor could she trust herself, during the
hour or two that remained to her, to find such a hole in Carlisle.

What she wanted was a friend;--some one that she could trust. But she
had no such friend. She could not dare to give the jewels up to Lord
George. So tempted, would not any Corsair appropriate the treasure?
And if, as might be possible, she were mistaken about him and he was
no Corsair, then would he betray her to the police? She thought of
all her dearest friends,--Frank Greystock, Mrs. Carbuncle, Lucinda,
Miss Macnulty,--even of