to see him again; and then the baronet,
usually under the instigation of Lord George, would make some awkward
apology. Mrs. Carbuncle,--whose life at this period was not a
pleasant one,--would behave on such occasions with great patience,
and sometimes with great courage. Lizzie, who in her present
emergency could not bear the idea of losing the assistance of any
friend, was soft and graceful, and even gracious, to the bear. The
bear himself certainly seemed to desire the marriage, though he would
so often give offence which made any prospect of a marriage almost
impossible. But with Sir Griffin, when the prize seemed to be lost,
it again became valuable. He would talk about his passionate love to
Mrs. Carbuncle, and to Lizzie,--and then, when things had been made
straight for him, he would insult them, and neglect Lucinda. To
Lucinda herself, however, he would rarely dare to say such words as
he used daily to the other two ladies in the house. What could have
been the man's own idea of his future married life, how can any
reader be made to understand, or any writer adequately describe! He
must have known that the woman despised him, and hated him. In the
very bottom of his heart he feared her. He had no idea of other
pleasure from her society than what might arise to him from the pride
of having married a beautiful woman. Had she shown the slightest
fondness for him, the slightest fear that she might lose him, the
slightest feeling that she had won a valuable prize in getting him,
he would have scorned her, and jilted her without the slightest
remorse. But the scorn came from her, and it beat him down.
"Yes;--you hate me, and would fain be rid of me; but you have said
that you will be my wife, and you cannot now escape me." Sir Griffin
did not exactly speak such words as these, but he acted them. Lucinda
would bear his presence,--sitting apart from him, silent, imperious,
but very beautiful. People said that she became more handsome from
day to day, and she did so, in spite of her agony. Hers was a face
which could stand such condition of the heart without fading or
sinking under it. She did not weep, or lose her colour, or become
thin. The pretty softness of a girl,--delicate feminine weakness,
or laughing eyes and pouting lips, no one expected from her. Sir
Griffin, in the early days of their acquaintance, had found her to be
a woman with a character for beauty,--and she was now more beautiful
than ever. He probably