sures of her
own life should be sacrificed.

Now, for a day or two, she heartily wished that she had done so. She
liked her house; she liked her brougham; she liked the gaieties of her
life; and in a certain way she liked Jack De Baron; but they were all
to her as nothing when compared to her duty and her sense of the
obligations which she owed to her husband. Playful and childish as she
was, all this was very serious to her;--perhaps the more serious
because she was playful and childish. She had not experience enough to
know how small some things are, and how few are the evils which cannot
be surmounted. It seemed to her that if Miss Mildmay were at this
moment to bring the horrid charge against her, it might too probably
lead to the crash of ruin and the horrors of despair. And yet, through
it all, she had a proud feeling of her own innocence and a
consciousness that she would speak out very loudly should her husband
hint to her that he believed the accusation.

Her father would now be in London in a day or two, and on this occasion
would again be staying in Munster Court. At last she made up her mind
that she would tell everything to him. It was not, perhaps, the wisest
resolution to which she could have come. A married woman should not
usually teach herself to lean on her parents instead of her husband,
and certainly not on her father. It is in this way that divided
households are made. But she had no other real friend of whom she could
ask a question. She liked Mrs. Houghton, but, as to such a matter as
this, distrusted her altogether. She liked Miss Houghton, her friend's
aunt, but did not know her well enough for such service as this. She
had neither brother nor sister of her own, and her husband's brothers
and sisters were certainly out of the question. Old Mrs. Montacute
Jones had taken a great fancy to her, and she almost thought that she
could have asked Mrs. Jones for advice; but she had no connection with
Mrs. Jones, and did not dare to do it. Therefore she resolved to tell
everything to her father.

On the evening before her father came to town there was another ball at
Mrs. Montacute Jones's. This old lady, who had no one belonging to her
but an invisible old husband, was the gayest of the gay among the gay
people of London. On this occasion Mary was to have gone with Lady
Brabazon, who was related to the Germains, and Lord George had arranged
an escape for himself. They were to drive out together, and