in in lodgings at Penrith till the wedding, which
they agreed to have celebrated at Vavasor Church. Kate promised to be
the solitary bridesmaid. There was some talk of sending for Charlie
Fairstairs, but the idea was abandoned. "We'll have her afterwards,"
said the widow to Kate, "when you are gone, and we shall want her
more. And I'll get Cheesacre here, and make him marry her. There's
no good in paying for two journeys." The Captain was to be allowed
to come over from Penrith twice a week previous to his marriage; or
perhaps, I might more fairly say, that he was commanded to do so. I
wonder how he felt when Mrs Greenow gave him his first five-pound
note, and told him that he must make it do for a fortnight?--whether
it was all joy, or whether there was about his heart any touch of
manly regret?

"Captain Bellfield, of Vavasor Hall, Westmoreland. It don't sound
badly," he said to himself, as he travelled away on his first journey
to Penrith.

CHAPTER LXVI

Lady Monk's Plan

On the night of Lady Monk's party, Burgo Fitzgerald disappeared; and
when the guests were gone and the rooms were empty, his aunt inquired
for him in vain. The old butler and factotum of the house, who was
employed by Sir Cosmo to put out the lamps and to see that he was
not robbed beyond a certain point on these occasions of his wife's
triumphs, was interrogated by his mistress, and said that he thought
Mr Burgo had left the house. Lady Monk herself knocked at her
nephew's door, when she went up-stairs, ascending an additional
flight of stairs with her weary old limbs in order that she might
do so; she even opened the door and saw the careless debris of his
toilet about the room. But he was gone. "Perhaps, after all, he has
arranged it," she said to herself, as she went down to her own room.

But Burgo, as we know, had not "arranged it." It may be remembered
that when Mr Palliser came back to his wife in the supper-room at
Lady Monk's, bringing with him the scarf which Lady Glencora had left
up-stairs, Burgo was no longer with her. He had become well aware
that he had no chance left, at any rate for that night. The poor
fool, acting upon his aunt's implied advice rather than his own
hopes, had secured a post-chaise, and stationed it in Bruton Street,
some five minutes' walk from his aunt's house. And he had purchased
feminine wrappings, cloaks, &c.--things that he thought might be
necessary for his companion. He had, too, ordered roo