us. She
had quarrelled with Lady Linlithgow, and had been taken in by
her old friend Lizzie,--her old enemy might, perhaps, be a truer
expression,--because of that quarrel. But a permanent home had not
even been promised to her; and poor Miss Macnulty was aware that even
a permanent home with Lady Eustace would not be an unmixed blessing.
In her way, Miss Macnulty was an honest woman.

They were sitting together one May afternoon in the little back
drawing-room in Mount Street. They had dined early, were now drinking
tea, and intended to go to the opera. It was six o'clock, and was
still broad day, but the thick coloured blind was kept across the
single window, and the folding doors of the room were nearly closed,
and there was a feeling of evening in the room. The necklace during
the whole day had been so heavy on Lizzie's heart, that she had been
unable to apply her thoughts to the building of that castle in the
air in which the Corsair was to reign supreme, but not alone. "My
dear," she said,--she generally called Miss Macnulty my dear,--"you
know that box I had made by the jewellers."

"You mean the safe."

"Well,--yes; only it isn't a safe. A safe is a great big thing. I had
it made especially for the diamonds Sir Florian gave me."

"I supposed it was so."

"I wonder whether there's any danger about it?"

"If I were you, Lady Eustace, I wouldn't keep them in the house. I
should have them kept where Sir Florian kept them. Suppose anybody
should come and murder you!"

"I'm not a bit afraid of that," said Lizzie.

"I should be. And what will you do with it when you go to Scotland?"

"I took them with me before;--in my own care. I know that wasn't
safe. I wish I knew what to do with them!"

"There are people who keep such things," said Miss Macnulty.

Then Lizzie paused a moment. She was dying for counsel and for
confidence. "I cannot trust them anywhere," she said. "It is just
possible there may be a lawsuit about them."

"How a lawsuit?"

"I cannot explain it all, but I am very unhappy about it. They want
me to give them up;--but my husband gave them to me, and for his
sake I will not do so. When he threw them round my neck he told me
that they were my own;--so he did. How can a woman give up such a
present,--from a husband,--who is dead? As to the value, I care
nothing. But I won't do it." By this time Lady Eustace was in tears,
and had so far succeeded as to have produced some amount of belief in