rl was regarded as half-angler and half-bait.
Any girl that angled visibly with her own hook, with a manifestly
expressed desire to catch a fish, was odious to her. And she was very
gentle-hearted in regard to the fishes, thinking that every fish
in the river should have the hook and bait presented to him in the
mildest, pleasantest form. But still, when the trout was well in
the basket, her joy was great; and then came across her unlaborious
mind some half-formed idea that a great ordinance of nature was
being accomplished in the teeth of difficulties. For,--as she well
knew,--there is a difficulty in the catching of fish.

Lady Milborough, in her kind anxiety on Nora's behalf,--that the fish
should be landed before Nora might be swept away in her sister's
ruin,--hardly knew what step she might safely take. Mrs. Trevelyan
would not see her again,--having already declared that any further
interview would be painful and useless. She had spoken to Trevelyan,
but Trevelyan had declared that he could do nothing. What was there
that he could have done? He could not, as he said, overlook the gross
improprieties of his wife's conduct, because his wife's sister had,
or might possibly have, a lover. And then as to speaking to Mr.
Glascock himself,--nobody knew better than Lady Milborough how very
apt fish are to be frightened.

But at last Lady Milborough did speak to Mr. Glascock,--making no
allusion whatever to the hook prepared for himself, but saying a word
or two as to the affairs of that other fish, whose circumstances, as
he floundered about in the bucket of matrimony, were not as happy as
they might have been. The care, the discretion, nay, the wisdom with
which she did this were most excellent. She had become aware that
Mr. Glascock had already heard of the unfortunate affair in Curzon
Street. Indeed, every one who knew the Trevelyans had heard of it,
and a great many who did not know them. No harm, therefore, could
be done by mentioning the circumstance. Lady Milborough did mention
it, explaining that the only person really in fault was that odious
destroyer of the peace of families, Colonel Osborne, of whom
Lady Milborough, on that occasion, said some very severe things
indeed. Poor dear Mrs. Trevelyan was foolish, obstinate, and
self-reliant;--but as innocent as the babe unborn. That things would
come right before long no one who knew the affair,--and she knew it
from beginning to end,--could for a moment doubt. Th