ot talk of Portugal now. A fineish woman with
a great deal of hair worn as if her maid had given it one comb straight
down and then rolled it up in a hurry round one finger. Malice would say
carrots. It is called gold. Mr. Forth is in a glass house, and is wrong
to cast his sneers at perfectly inoffensive people.

'Perfectly impossible we can remain at Beckley Court together--if not
dangerous. Any means that Providence may designate, I would employ. It
will be like exorcising a demon. Always excuseable. I only ask a little
more time for stupid Evan. He might have little Bonner now. I should not
object; but her family is not so good.

'Now, do attend. At once obtain a copy of Strike's Company people. You
understand--prospectuses. Tell me instantly if the Captain Evremonde
in it is Captain Lawson Evremonde. Pump Strike. Excuse vulgar words.
Whether he is not Lord Laxley's half-brother. Strike shall be of use to
us. Whether he is not mad. Captain E----'s address. Oh! when I think of
Strike--brute! and poor beautiful uncomplaining Carry and her shoulder!
But let us indeed most fervently hope that his Grace may be balm to it.
We must not pray for vengeance. It is sinful. Providence will inflict
that. Always know that Providence is quite sure to. It comforts
exceedingly.

'Oh, that Strike were altogether in the past tense! No knowing what the
Duke might do--a widower and completely subjugated. It makes my bosom
bound. The man tempts me to the wickedest Frenchy ideas. There!

We progress with dear venerable Mrs. Bonner. Truly pious--interested in
your Louisa. She dreads that my husband will try to convert me to his
creed. I can but weep and say--never!

'I need not say I have my circle. To hear this ridiculous boy Harry
Jocelyn grunt under my nose when he has led me unsuspectingly away from
company--Harriet! dearest! He thinks it a sigh! But there is no time for
laughing.

'My maxim in any house is--never to despise the good opinion of the
nonentities. They are the majority. I think they all look up to me. But
then of course you must fix that by seducing the stars. My diplomatist
praises my abilities--Sir John Loring my style--the rest follow and I do
not withhold my smiles, and they are happy, and I should be but that
for ungrateful Evan's sake I sacrificed my peace by binding myself to a
dreadful sort of half-story. I know I did not quite say it. It seems
as if Sir A.'s ghost were going to haunt me. And then I have the