puss, and so on. But she could see,--or half
see,--that Lucy with her simplicity was stronger than was she with
her craft. She had nearly captivated Frank Greystock with her wiles,
but without any wiles Lucy had captivated him altogether. And a man
captivated by wiles was only captivated for a time, whereas a man won
by simplicity would be won for ever,--if he himself were worth the
winning. And this, too, she felt,--that let her success be what it
might, she could not be happy unless she could win a man's heart.
She had won Sir Florian's, but that had been but for an hour,--for a
month or two. And then Sir Florian had never really won hers. Could
not she be simple? Could not she act simplicity so well that the
thing acted should be as powerful as the thing itself;--perhaps even
more powerful? Poor Lizzie Eustace! In thinking over all this, she
saw a great deal. It was wonderful that she should see so much and
tell herself so many home truths. But there was one truth she could
not see, and therefore could not tell it to herself. She had not
a heart to give. It had become petrified during those lessons of
early craft in which she had taught herself how to get the better of
Messrs. Harter and Benjamin, of Sir Florian Eustace, of Lady
Linlithgow, and of Mr. Camperdown.

Her ladyship had now come down to her country house, leaving London
and all its charms before the end of the season, actuated by various
motives. In the first place, the house in Mount Street was taken
furnished, by the month, and the servants were hired after the same
fashion, and the horses jobbed. Lady Eustace was already sufficiently
intimate with her accounts to know that she would save two hundred
pounds by not remaining another month or three weeks in London, and
sufficiently observant of her own affairs to have perceived that
such saving was needed. And then it appeared to her that her battle
with Lord Fawn could be better fought from a distance than at close
quarters. London, too, was becoming absolutely distasteful to her.
There were many things there that tended to make her unhappy, and
so few that she could enjoy! She was afraid of Mr. Camperdown, and
ever on the rack lest some dreadful thing should come upon her in
respect of the necklace,--some horrible paper served upon her from a
magistrate, ordering her appearance at Newgate, or perhaps before the
Lord Chancellor, or a visit from policemen, who would be empowered
to search for and carry of