der that she might see Sir Griffin. "I daresay the play may
be very bad," she said, "but it can hardly be so bad as real life."

Lizzie, when Lord George had left her, crept up-stairs, and sat for
awhile thinking of her condition, with the key of her desk in her
hand. Should there come a knock at the door, the case of diamonds
would be in her pocket in a moment. Her own room door was bolted on
the inside, so that she might have an instant for her preparation.
She was quite resolved that she would carry out Lord George's
recommendation, and that no policeman or woman should examine her
person, unless it were done by violence. There she sat, almost
expecting that at every moment her cousin would be there with Bunfit
and the woman. But nobody came, and at six she went down to dinner.
After much consideration she then left the diamonds in the desk.
Surely no one would come to search at such an hour as that. No one
had come when the carriage was announced, and the three ladies went
off together.

During the whole way Mrs. Carbuncle talked of the terrible situation
in which poor Lord George was placed by the robbery, and of all
that Lizzie owed him on account of his trouble. "My dear," said Mrs.
Carbuncle, "the least you can do for him is to give him all that
you've got to give." "I don't know that he wants me to give him
anything," said Lizzie. "I think that's quite plain," said Mrs.
Carbuncle, "and I'm sure I wish it may be so. He and I have been dear
friends,--very dear friends, and there is nothing I wish so much
as to see him properly settled. Ill-natured people like to say all
manner of things because everybody does not choose to live in their
own heartless, conventional form. But I can assure you there is
nothing between me and Lord George which need prevent him from giving
his whole heart to you." "I don't suppose there is," said Lizzie, who
loved an opportunity of giving Mrs. Carbuncle a little rap.

The play, as a play, was a failure; at least so said Mrs. Carbuncle.
The critics, on the next morning, were somewhat divided,--not only in
judgment, but as to facts. To say how a play has been received is of
more moment than to speak of its own merits or of the merits of the
actors. Three or four of the papers declared that the audience was
not only eulogistic, but enthusiastic. One or two others averred that
the piece fell very flatly. As it was not acted above four or five
dozen times consecutively, it must be regar