excited her wonder, or, as was more
frequently the case, her curiosity, she was accustomed to seek for
satisfaction in a somewhat indirect way, by raising her beautiful
eyebrows with a doubtful sort of smile, or, as in the present instance,
by exclaiming, "Good gracious! Dear me!" or giving voice to some other
little vocative, with a note of interrogation strongly marked after it.

In this case there was more than one feeling at the bottom of her
exclamation. She was surprised; she was curious; and she was, moreover,
in the least degree in the world, jealous. She had her share of
weaknesses, as I have said; and one of them was of a kind less uncommon
than may be supposed. Of her husband's conduct she had no fear--not the
slightest suspicion. Indeed, to have entertained any would have been
impossible--but she could not bear to see him liked, admired, esteemed,
by any woman--mark me, I say by _any woman_; for no one could feel more
triumphant joy than she did when she saw him duly appreciated by men.
She was a great monopolizer: she did not wish one thought of his to be
won away from her by another woman; and a sort of irritable feeling came
upon her even when she saw him seated by any young and pretty girl, and
paying her the common attentions of society. She was too well bred to
display such sensations except by those slight indications, or by a
certain petulance of manner, which he was not close observer enough of
other people's conduct to remark.

Not to dwell too long on such things, Sir Philip Hastings, though
perfectly unconscious of what was going on in her heart, rarely kept her
long in suspense, when he saw any signs of curiosity. He perhaps might
think it a point of Roman virtue to spoil his wife, although she had
very little of the Portia in her character. On the present occasion, he
quietly handed over to her the letter of Mrs. Hazleton; and then
summoned a servant and gave orders for various preparations.

"Had not I and Emily better go with you?" asked Lady Hastings, pointing
out to him the passage in the letter which spoke of the long absence of
all the family.

"Not when I am going on business," replied her husband gravely, and
quitted the room.

An hour after, Philip Hastings was on horseback with a servant carrying
a valise behind him, and riding slowly through the park. The day was far
advanced, and the distance was likely to occupy about an hour and a half
in travelling; but the gentleman had fal