“Do you mean by me?”
“Yes, by you. Who else has done it?”
“I do not think that I have done wrong to anyone. I was obliged to say that I could not recognise those diamonds as the property of my wife.”
“But what right had you to say so? I had the diamonds when you asked me to be your wife.”
“I did not know it.”
“Nor did you know that I had this little ring upon my finger. Is it fit that you, or that any man should turn round upon a lady and say to her that your word is to be broken, and that she is to be exposed before all her friends, because you have taken a fancy to dislike her ring or her brooch? I say, Lord Fawn, it was no business of yours, even after you were engaged to me. What jewels I might have, or not have, was no concern of yours till after I had become your wife. Go and ask all the world if it is not so? You say that my cousin affronts you because he takes my part—like a brother. Ask anyone else. Ask any lady you may know. Let us name someone to decide between us which of us has been wrong. Lady Glencora Palliser is a friend of yours, and her husband is in the Government. Shall we name her? It is true, indeed, that her uncle, the Duke of Omnium, the grandest and greatest of English noblemen, is specially interested on my behalf.” This was very fine in Lizzie. The Duke of Omnium she had never seen; but his name had been mentioned to her by Lady Glencora, and she was quick to use it.
“I can admit of no reference to anyone,” said Lord Fawn.
“And I then—what am I to do? I am to be thrown over simply because your lordship—chooses to throw me over? Your lordship will admit no reference to anyone! Your lordship makes inquiries as long as an attorney tells you stories against me, but drops them at once when the attorney is made to understand that he is wrong. Tell me this, sir. Can you justify yourself—in your own heart?”
Unfortunately for Lord Fawn, he was not sure that he could justify himself. The diamonds were gone, and the action was laid aside, and the general opinion which had prevailed a month or two since, that Lizzie had been disreputably concerned in stealing her own necklace, seemed to have been laid aside. Lady Glencora and the duke went for almost as much with Lord Fawn as they did with Lizzie. No doubt the misbehaviour down among the rocks was left to him; but he had that only on the evidence of Andy Gowran—and even Andy Gowran’s evidence he had declined to receive otherwise than secondhand. Lizzie, too, was prepared with an answer to this charge—an answer which she had already made more than once, though the charge was not positively brought against her, and which consisted in an assertion that Frank Greystock was her brother rather than her cousin. Such brotherhood was not altogether satisfactory to Lord Fawn, when he came once more to regard Lizzie Eustace as his possible future wife; but still the assertion was an answer, and one that he could not altogether reject.
It certainly was the case that he had again begun to think what would be the result of a marriage with Lady Eustace. He must sever himself altogether from Mrs. Hittaway, and must relax the closeness of his relations with Fawn Court. He would have a wife respecting whom he himself had spread evil tidings, and the man whom he most hated in the world would be his wife’s favourite cousin, or, so to say—brother. He would, after a fashion, be connected with Mrs. Carbuncle, Lord George de Bruce Carruthers, and Sir Griffin Tewett, all of whom he regarded as thoroughly disreputable. And, moreover, at his own country house at Portray, as in such case it would be, his own bailiff or steward would be the man who had seen—what he had seen. These were great objections; but how was he to avoid marrying her? He was engaged to her. How, at any rate, was he to escape from the renewal of his engagement at this moment? He had more than once positively stated that he was deterred from marrying her only by her possession of the diamonds. The diamonds were now gone.
Lizzie was still standing, waiting for an answer to her question—Can you justify yourself in your own heart? Having paused for some seconds, she repeated her question in a stronger and more personal form. “Had I been your sister, Lord Fawn, and had another man behaved to me as you have now done, would you say that he had behaved well, and that she had no ground for complaint? Can you bring yourself to answer that question honestly?”
“I hope I shall answer no question dishonestly.”
“Answer it then. No; you cannot answer it, because you would condemn yourself. Now, Lord Fawn, what do you mean to do?”
“I had thought, Lady Eustace, that any regard which you might ever have entertained for me—”
“Well;—what had you thought of my regard?”
“That it had been dissipated.”
“Have I told you so? Has anyone come to you from me with such a message?”
“Have you not received attentions from anyone else?”
“Attentions—what attentions? I have received plenty of attentions—most flattering attentions. I was honoured even this morning by a most gratifying attention on the part of his grace the Duke of Omnium.”
“I did not mean that.”
“What do you mean, then? I am not going to marry the Duke of Omnium because of his attention—nor anyone else. If you mean, sir, after the other inquiries you have done me the honour to make, to throw it in my face now, that I have—have in any way rendered myself
