g towards Cruhan. Though pretending
to her uncle to be only eager to finish her sketch of Croghan Castle, her
journey was really prompted by very different considerations. By Dick's
telegram she learned that Walpole was to arrive that day at Kilgobbin,
and as his stay could not be prolonged beyond the evening, she secretly
determined she would absent herself so much as she could from home--only
returning to a late dinner--and thus show her distinguished friend how
cheaply she held the occasion of his visit, and what value she attached to
the pleasure of seeing him at the castle.

She knew Walpole thoroughly--she understood the working of such a nature to
perfection, and she could calculate to a nicety the mortification, and even
anger, such a man would experience at being thus slighted. 'These men,'
thought she, 'only feel for what is done to them before the world: it is
the insult that is passed upon them in public, the _soufflet_ that is given
in the street, that alone can wound them to the quick.' A woman may grow
tired of their attentions, become capricious and change, she may be piqued
by jealousy, or, what is worse, by indifference; but, while she makes no
open manifestation of these, they can be borne: the really insupportable
thing is, that a woman should be able to exhibit a man as a creature that
had no possible concern or interest for her--one might come or go, or stay
on, utterly unregarded or uncared for. To have played this game during
the long hours of a long day was a burden she did not fancy to encounter,
whereas to fill the part for the short space of a dinner, and an hour or so
in the drawing-room, she looked forward to rather as an exciting amusement.

'He has had a day to throw away,' said she to herself, 'and he will give it
to the Greek girl. I almost hear him as he says it. How one learns to know
these men in every nook and crevice of their natures, and how by never
relaxing a hold on the one clue of their vanity, one can trace every
emotion of their lives.'

In her old life of Rome these small jealousies, these petty passions of
spite, defiance, and wounded sensibility, filled a considerable space of
her existence. Her position in society, dependent as she was, exposed her
to small mortifications: the cold semi-contemptuous notice of women who saw
she was prettier than themselves, and the half-swaggering carelessness of
the men, who felt that a bit of flirtation with the Titian Girl was as
irre