her the duty
of standing closely by her own order. Nevertheless, at the age of
thirty-three she had married her father's man of business, under
circumstances which were not altogether creditable to her. But she
had done her duty in her new sphere of life with some constancy and a
fixed purpose; and now that her sister was going to marry, as she had
done, a man much below herself in social standing, she was prepared
to do her duty as a sister and a sister-in-law.

"We shall be up in town in November, and of course you'll come to
us at once. Albert Villa, you know, in Hamilton Terrace, St. John's
Wood. We dine at seven, and on Sundays at two; and you'll always find
a place. Mind you come to us, and make yourself quite at home. I do
so hope you and Mortimer will get on well together."

"I'm sure we shall," said Crosbie. But he had had higher hopes in
marrying into this noble family than that of becoming intimate with
Mortimer Gazebee. What those hopes were he could hardly define to
himself now that he had brought himself so near to the fruition of
them. Lady de Courcy had certainly promised to write to her first
cousin who was Under-Secretary of State for India, with reference to
that secretaryship at the General Committee Office; but Crosbie, when
he came to weigh in his mind what good might result to him from this,
was disposed to think that his chance of obtaining the promotion
would be quite as good without the interest of the Under-Secretary of
State for India as with it. Now that he belonged, as we may say, to
this noble family, he could hardly discern what were the advantages
which he had expected from this alliance. He had said to himself that
it would be much to have a countess for a mother-in-law; but now,
even already, although the possession to which he had looked was not
yet garnered, he was beginning to tell himself that the thing was not
worth possessing.

As he sat in the train, with a newspaper in his hand, he went on
acknowledging to himself that he was a villain. Lady Julia had spoken
the truth to him on the stairs at Courcy, and so he confessed over
and over again. But he was chiefly angry with himself for this,--that
he had been a villain without gaining anything by his villainy; that
he had been a villain, and was to lose so much by his villainy. He
made comparison between Lily and Alexandrina, and owned to himself,
over and over again, that Lily would make the best wife that a man
could take to h