‘Open again,’ she pursues.  ’Dear Carry just come in.  There are fairies, I think, where there are dukes!  Where could it have come from?  Could any human being have sent messengers post to London, ordered, and had it despatched here within this short time?  You shall not be mystified!  I do not think I even hinted; but the afternoon walk I had with his Grace, on the first day of his arrival, I did shadow it very delicately how much it was to be feared our poor Carry could not, that she dared not, betray her liege lord in an evening dress.  Nothing more, upon my veracity!  And Carry has this moment received the most beautiful green box, containing two of the most heavenly old lace shawls that you ever beheld.  We divine it is to hide poor Carry’s matrimonial blue mark!  We know nothing.  Will you imagine Carry is for not accepting it!  Priority of birth does not imply superior wits, dear—­no allusion to you.  I have undertaken all.  Arch looks, but nothing pointed.  His Grace will understand the exquisite expression of feminine gratitude.  It is so sweet to deal with true nobility.  Carry has only to look as she always does.  One sees Strike sitting on her.  Her very pliability has rescued her from being utterly squashed long ere this!  The man makes one vulgar.  It would have been not the slightest use asking me to be a Christian had I wedded Strike.  But think of the fairy presents!  It has determined me not to be expelled by Mr. Forth—­quite.  Tell Silva he is not forgotten.  But, my dear, between us alone, men are so selfish, that it is too evident they do not care for private conversations to turn upon a lady’s husband:  not to be risked, only now and then.

’I hear that the young ladies and the young gentlemen have been out riding a race.  The poor little Bonner girl cannot ride, and she says to Carry that Rose wishes to break our brother’s neck.  The child hardly wishes that, but she is feelingless.  If Evan could care for Miss Bonner, he might have B. C.!  Oh, it is not so very long a shot, my dear.  I am on the spot, remember.  Old Mrs. Bonner is a most just-minded spirit.  Juliana is a cripple, and her grandmother wishes to be sure that when she departs to her Lord the poor cripple may not be chased from this home of hers.  Rose cannot calculate—­Harry is in disgrace—­there is really no knowing.  This is how I have reckoned; L10,000 extra to Rose; perhaps L1000 or nothing to H.; all the rest of ready-money—­a large sum—­ no use guessing—­to Lady Jocelyn; and B. C. to little Bonner—­it is worth L40,000 Then she sells, or stops—­permanent resident.  It might be so soon, for I can see worthy Mrs. Bonner to be breaking visibly.  But young men will not see with wiser eyes than their own.  Here is Evan risking his neck for an indifferent—­there’s some word for “not soft.”  In short, Rose is the cold-blooded novice, as I have always said, the most selfish of the creatures on two legs.