e herself with doubts, that she found it
impossible to form any decision. It would be necessary that she should
see Mr Broune. What to do with her son, how to bestow him, in what way
to get rid of him so that in ridding herself of him she might not aid
in destroying him,--this was the great trouble of her life, the burden
that was breaking her back. Now this girl was not only willing but
persistently anxious to take her black sheep and to endow him,--as she
declared,--with ever so many thousands a year. If the thousands were
there,--or even an income of a single thousand a year,--then what a
blessing would such a marriage be! Sir Felix had already fallen so low
that his mother on his behalf would not be justified in declining a
connection with the Melmottes because the Melmottes had fallen. To get
any niche in the world for him in which he might live with comparative
safety would now be to her a heaven-sent comfort. 'My son is
upstairs,' she said. 'I will go up and speak to him.'

'Tell him I am here and that I have said that I will forgive him
everything, and that I love him still, and that if he will be true to
me, I will be true to him.'

'I couldn't go down to her,' said Sir Felix, 'with my face all in this
way.'

'I don't think she would mind that.'

'I couldn't do it. Besides, I don't believe about her money. I never
did believe it. That was the real reason why I didn't go to
Liverpool.'

'I think I would see her if I were you, Felix. We could find out to a
certainty about her fortune. It is evident at any rate that she is
very fond of you.'

'What's the use of that, if he is ruined?' He would not go down to see
the girl,--because he could not endure to expose his face, and was
ashamed of the wounds which he had received in the street. As regarded
the money he half-believed and half-disbelieved Marie's story. But the
fruition of the money, if it were within his reach, would be far off
and to be attained with much trouble; whereas the nuisance of a scene
with Marie would be immediate. How could he kiss his future bride,
with his nose bound up with a bandage?

'What shall I say to her?' asked his mother.

'She oughtn't to have come. I should tell her just that. You might
send the maid to her to tell her that you couldn't see her again.'

But Lady Carbury could not treat the girl after that fashion. She
returned to the drawing-room, descending the stairs very slowly, and
thinking what answer she would mak