er"

Lord Fawn had promised, as he put Lizzie into her carriage, that he
would come to her soon,--but he did not come soon. A fortnight passed
and he did not show himself. Nothing further had been done in the
matter of the diamonds, except that Mr. Camperdown had written to
Frank Greystock, explaining how impossible it was that the question
of their possession should be referred to arbitration. According to
him they belonged to the heir, as did the estate; and no one would
have the power of accepting an arbitration respecting them,--an
arbitration which might separate them from the estate of which an
infant was the owner for his life,--any more than such arbitration
could be accepted as to the property of the estate itself.
"Possession is nine points of the law," said Frank to himself, as
he put the letter aside,--thinking at the same time that possession
in the hands of Lizzie Eustace included certainly every one of
those nine points. Lizzie wore her diamonds again and then again.
There may be a question whether the possession of the necklace and
the publicity of their history,--which, however, like many other
histories, was most inaccurately told,--did not add something to her
reputation as a lady of fashion. In the meantime, Lord Fawn did not
come to see her. So she wrote to him. "My dear Frederic, had you not
better come to me? Yours affectionately,--L. I go to the North at the
end of this month."

But Frank Greystock did visit her,--more than once. On the day
after the above letter was written he came to her. It was on Sunday
afternoon, when July was more than half over, and he found her alone.
Miss Macnulty had gone to church, and Lizzie was lying listlessly on
a sofa with a volume of poetry in her hand. She had in truth been
reading the book, and in her way enjoying it. It told her the story
of certain knights of old, who had gone forth in quest of a sign from
heaven, which sign, if verily seen by them, might be taken to signify
that they themselves were esteemed holy, and fit for heavenly joy.
One would have thought that no theme could have been less palatable
to such a one as Lizzie Eustace; but the melody of the lines had
pleased her ear, and she was always able to arouse for herself a
false enthusiasm on things which were utterly outside herself in
life. She thought she too could have travelled in search of that holy
sign, and have borne all things, and abandoned all things, and have
persevered,--and of