The Eustace Diamonds

be given in full, as it was very similar to that written to the bishop’s wife. The same mention was made of her intended husband’s peerage, and the same allusion to Her Majesty’s Government⁠—a phrase which she had heard from Lord Fawn himself. She spoke of the Irish property, but in terms less glowing than she had used in writing to the lady, and ended by asking for her uncle’s congratulation⁠—and blessing. Her letter to Frank was as follows, and, doubtless, as she wrote it, there was present to her mind a remembrance of the fact that he himself might have offered to her, and have had her if he would.

My dear Cousin,

As I would rather that you should hear my news from myself than from anyone else, I write to tell you that I am going to be married to Lord Fawn. Of course I know that there are certain matters as to which you and Lord Fawn do not agree⁠—in politics, I mean; but still I do not doubt but you will think that he is quite able to take care of your poor little cousin. It was only settled a day or two since, but it has been coming on ever so long. You understand all about that;⁠—don’t you? Of course you must come to my wedding, and be very good to me⁠—a kind of brother, you know; for we have always been friends;⁠—haven’t we? And if the dean doesn’t come up to town, you must give me away. And you must come and see me ever so often; for I have a sort of feeling that I have no one else belonging to me that I can call really my own, except you. And you must be great friends with Lord Fawn, and must give up saying that he doesn’t do his work properly. Of course he does everything better than anybody else could possibly do it⁠—except Cousin Frank.

I am going down next week to Richmond. Lady Fawn has insisted on my staying there for a fortnight. Oh, dear, what shall I do all the time? You must positively come down and see me⁠—and see somebody else too! Only, you naughty coz! you mustn’t break a poor girl’s heart.

Your affectionate cousin,

Eli. Eustace.

Somebody, in speaking on Lady Eustace’s behalf, and making the best of her virtues, had declared that she did not have lovers. Hitherto that had been true of her;⁠—but her mind had not the less dwelt on the delight of a lover. She still thought of a possible Corsair who would be willing to give up all but his vices for her love, and for whose sake she would be willing to share even them. It was but a dream, but nevertheless it pervaded her fancy constantly. Lord Fawn⁠—peer of Parliament, and member of Her Majesty’s Government, as he was⁠—could not have been such a lover to her. Might it not be possible that there should exist something of romance between her and her cousin Frank? She was the last woman in the world to run away with a man, or to endanger her position by a serious indiscretion; but there might, perhaps, be a something between her and her cousin⁠—a liaison quite correct in its facts, a secret understanding, if nothing more⁠—a mutual sympathy, which should be chiefly shown in the abuse of all their friends⁠—and in this she could indulge her passion for romance and poetry.

XI

Lord Fawn at His Office

The news was soon all about London⁠—as Lizzie had intended. She had made a sudden resolve that Lord Fawn should not escape her, and she had gone to work after the fashion we have seen. Frank Greystock had told John Eustace, and John Eustace had told Mr. Camperdown before Lord Fawn himself, in the slow prosecution of his purpose, had consulted the lawyer about the necklace. “God bless my soul;⁠—Lord Fawn!” the old lawyer had said when the news was communicated to him. “Well⁠—yes;⁠—he wants money. I don’t envy him; that’s all. We shall get the diamonds now, John. Lord Fawn isn’t the man to let his wife keep what doesn’t belong to her.” Then, after a day or two, Lord Fawn had himself gone to Mr. Camperdown’s chambers. “I believe I am to congratulate you, my lord,” said the lawyer. “I’m told you are going to marry⁠—; well, I mustn’t really say another of my clients, but the widow of one of them. Lady Eustace is a very beautiful woman, and she has a very pretty income too. She has the whole of the Scotch property for her life.”

“It’s only for her life, I suppose?” said Lord Fawn.

“Oh, no, no;⁠—of course not. There’s been some mistake on her part;⁠—at least, so I’ve been told. Women never understand. It’s all as clear as daylight. Had there been a second son, the second son would have had it. As it is, it goes with the rest of the property⁠—just as it ought to do, you know. Four thousand a year isn’t so bad, you know, considering that she isn’t more than a girl yet, and that she hadn’t sixpence of her own. When the admiral died, there wasn’t sixpence, Lord Fawn.”

“So I have heard.”

“Not sixpence. It’s all Eustace money. She had six or eight thousand pounds, or something like that, besides. She’s as lovely a young widow as I ever saw⁠—and very clever.”

“Yes;⁠—she is clever.”

“By the by, Lord Fawn, as you have done me the honour of calling⁠—there’s a stupid mistake about some family diamonds.”

“It is in respect to them that I’ve come,” said Lord Fawn. Then Mr. Camperdown, in his easy, offhand way, imputing no blame to the lady in the hearing of her future husband, and declaring his opinion that she was doubtless unaware of its value, explained the matter of the necklace. Lord Fawn listened, but said very little. He especially did not say that Lady Eustace had had