ge in her mind. When she
re-entered the house she was no longer sullen, no longer anxious to be
silent, very willing to be gracious if she might be received with
favour,--but quite determined that nothing should shake her purpose.
She went at once into her mother's room, having heard from the boy at
the door that Lady Carbury had returned.

'Hetta, wherever have you been?' asked Lady Carbury.

'Mamma,' she said, 'I mean to write to Mr Montague and tell him that I
have been unjust to him.'

'Hetta, you must do nothing of the kind,' said Lady Carbury, rising
from her seat.

'Yes, mamma. I have been unjust, and I must do so.'

'It will be asking him to come back to you.'

'Yes, mamma:--that is what I mean. I shall tell him that if he will
come, I will receive him. I know he will come. Oh, mamma, let us be
friends, and I will tell you everything. Why should you grudge me my
love?'

'You have sent him back his brooch,' said Lady Carbury hoarsely.

'He shall give it me again. Hear what I have done. I have seen that
American lady.'

'Mrs Hurtle!'

'Yes;--I have been to her. She is a wonderful woman.'

'And she has told you wonderful lies.'

'Why should she lie to me? She has told me no lies. She said nothing
in his favour.'

'I can well believe that. What can any one say in his favour?'

'But she told me that which has assured me that Mr Montague has never
behaved badly to me. I shall write to him at once. If you like I will
show you the letter.'

'Any letter to him, I will tear,' said Lady Carbury, full of anger.

'Mamma, I have told you everything, but in this I must judge for
myself.' Then Hetta, seeing that her mother would not relent, left the
room without further speech, and immediately opened her desk that the
letter might be written.

CHAPTER XCII - HAMILTON K. FISKER AGAIN

Ten days had passed since the meeting narrated in the last chapter,--
ten days, during which Hetta's letter had been sent to her lover, but
in which she had received no reply,--when two gentlemen met each other
in a certain room in Liverpool, who were seen together in the same room
in the early part of this chronicle. These were our young friend Paul
Montague, and our not much older friend Hamilton K. Fisker. Melmotte
had died on the 18th of July, and tidings of the event had been at
once sent by telegraph to San Francisco. Some weeks before this
Montague had written to his partner, giving his account of the South
C