good-natured,--but he had deserted her at last. She had never allowed
herself to be angry with him for a moment. It had been a matter of
course that he should do so. Her fortune was still large, but not
so large as the sum named in the bargain made. And it was moreover
weighted with her father's blood. From the moment of her father's death
she had never dreamed that he would marry her. Why should he? Her
thoughts in reference to Sir Felix were bitter enough;--but as against
Nidderdale they were not at all bitter. Should she ever meet him again
she would shake hands with him and smile,--if not pleasantly as she
thought of the things which were past,--at any rate with good humour.
But all this had not made her much in love with matrimony generally. She
had over a hundred thousand pounds of her own, and, feeling conscious
of her own power in regard to her own money, knowing that she could do
as she pleased with her wealth, she began to look out into life
seriously.

What could she do with her money, and in what way would she shape her
life, should she determine to remain her own mistress? Were she to
refuse Fisker how should she begin? He would then be banished, and her
only remaining friends, the only persons whose names she would even
know in her own country, would be her father's widow and Herr Croll.
She already began to see Madame Melmotte's purport in reference to
Croll, and could not reconcile herself to the idea of opening an
establishment with them on a scale commensurate with her fortune. Nor
could she settle in her own mind any pleasant position for herself as
a single woman, living alone in perfect independence. She had opinions
of women's rights,--especially in regard to money; and she entertained
also a vague notion that in America a young woman would not need
support so essentially as in England. Nevertheless, the idea of a fine
house for herself in Boston, or Philadelphia,--for in that case she
would have to avoid New York as the chosen residence of Madame
Melmotte,--did not recommend itself to her. As to Fisker himself,--she
certainly liked him. He was not beautiful like Felix Carbury, nor had
he the easy good-humour of Lord Nidderdale. She had seen enough of
English gentlemen to know that Fisker was very unlike them. But she
had not seen enough of English gentlemen to make Fisker distasteful to
her. He told her that he had a big house at San Francisco, and she
certainly desired to live in a big house. He