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diff --git a/18000-0.txt b/18000-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e379bb4 --- /dev/null +++ b/18000-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,28653 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 18000 *** + + + + +PHINEAS FINN + +The Irish Member + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + +First published in serial form in _St. Paul’s Magazine_ beginning in +1867 and in book form in 1869 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + VOLUME I + + I. Phineas Finn Proposes to Stand for Loughshane + II. Phineas Finn Is Elected for Loughshane + III. Phineas Finn Takes His Seat + IV. Lady Laura Standish + V. Mr. and Mrs. Low + VI. Lord Brentford’s Dinner + VII. Mr. and Mrs. Bunce + VIII. The News about Mr. Mildmay and Sir Everard + IX. The New Government + X. Violet Effingham + XI. Lord Chiltern + XII. Autumnal Prospects + XIII. Saulsby Wood + XIV. Loughlinter + XV. Donald Bean’s Pony + XVI. Phineas Finn Returns to Killaloe + XVII. Phineas Finn Returns to London + XVIII. Mr. Turnbull + XIX. Lord Chiltern Rides His Horse Bonebreaker + XX. The Debate on the Ballot + XXI. “Do be punctual” + XXII. Lady Baldock at Home + XXIII. Sunday in Grosvenor Place + XXIV. The Willingford Bull + XXV. Mr. Turnbull’s Carriage Stops the Way + XXVI. “The First Speech” + XXVII. Phineas Discussed + XXVIII. The Second Reading Is Carried + XXIX. A Cabinet Meeting + XXX. Mr. Kennedy’s Luck + XXXI. Finn for Loughton + XXXII. Lady Laura Kennedy’s Headache + XXXIII. Mr. Slide’s Grievance + XXXIV. Was He Honest? + XXXV. Mr. Monk upon Reform + XXXVI. Phineas Finn Makes Progress + XXXVII. A Rough Encounter + + + VOLUME II + + XXXVIII. The Duel + XXXIX. Lady Laura Is Told + XL. Madame Max Goesler + XLI. Lord Fawn + XLII. Lady Baldock Does Not Send a Card to Phineas Finn + XLIII. Promotion + XLIV. Phineas and His Friends + XLV. Miss Effingham’s Four Lovers + XLVI. The Mousetrap + XLVII. Mr. Mildmay’s Bill + XLVIII. “The Duke” + XLIX. The Duellists Meet + L. Again Successful + LI. Troubles at Loughlinter + LII. The First Blow + LIII. Showing How Phineas Bore the Blow + LIV. Consolation + LV. Lord Chiltern at Saulsby + LVI. What the People in Marylebone Thought + LVII. The Top Brick of the Chimney + LVIII. Rara Avis in Terris + LIX. The Earl’s Wrath + LX. Madame Goesler’s Politics + LXI. Another Duel + LXII. The Letter That Was Sent to Brighton + LXIII. Showing How the Duke Stood His Ground + LXIV. The Horns + LXV. The Cabinet Minister at Killaloe + LXVI. Victrix + LXVII. Job’s Comforters + LXVIII. The Joint Attack + LXIX. The Temptress + LXX. The Prime Minister’s House + LXXI. Comparing Notes + LXXII. Madame Goesler’s Generosity + LXXIII. Amantium Iræ + LXXIV. The Beginning of the End + LXXV. P. P. C. + LXXVI. Conclusion + + + + + +VOLUME I + +CHAPTER I + +Phineas Finn Proposes to Stand for Loughshane + + +Dr. Finn, of Killaloe, in county Clare, was as well known in those +parts,--the confines, that is, of the counties Clare, Limerick, +Tipperary, and Galway,--as was the bishop himself who lived in the +same town, and was as much respected. Many said that the doctor was +the richer man of the two, and the practice of his profession was +extended over almost as wide a district. Indeed the bishop whom he +was privileged to attend, although a Roman Catholic, always spoke of +their dioceses being conterminate. It will therefore be understood +that Dr. Finn,--Malachi Finn was his full name,--had obtained a wide +reputation as a country practitioner in the west of Ireland. And he +was a man sufficiently well to do, though that boast made by his +friends, that he was as warm a man as the bishop, had but little +truth to support it. Bishops in Ireland, if they live at home, even +in these days, are very warm men; and Dr. Finn had not a penny in the +world for which he had not worked hard. He had, moreover, a costly +family, five daughters and one son, and, at the time of which we +are speaking, no provision in the way of marriage or profession had +been made for any of them. Of the one son, Phineas, the hero of the +following pages, the mother and five sisters were very proud. The +doctor was accustomed to say that his goose was as good as any other +man’s goose, as far as he could see as yet; but that he should like +some very strong evidence before he allowed himself to express an +opinion that the young bird partook, in any degree, of the qualities +of a swan. From which it may be gathered that Dr. Finn was a man of +common-sense. + +Phineas had come to be a swan in the estimation of his mother and +sisters by reason of certain early successes at college. His father, +whose religion was not of that bitter kind in which we in England +are apt to suppose that all the Irish Roman Catholics indulge, had +sent his son to Trinity; and there were some in the neighbourhood of +Killaloe,--patients, probably, of Dr. Duggin, of Castle Connell, a +learned physician who had spent a fruitless life in endeavouring to +make head against Dr. Finn,--who declared that old Finn would not be +sorry if his son were to turn Protestant and go in for a fellowship. +Mrs. Finn was a Protestant, and the five Miss Finns were Protestants, +and the doctor himself was very much given to dining out among his +Protestant friends on a Friday. Our Phineas, however, did not turn +Protestant up in Dublin, whatever his father’s secret wishes on that +subject may have been. He did join a debating society, to success +in which his religion was no bar; and he there achieved a sort of +distinction which was both easy and pleasant, and which, making +its way down to Killaloe, assisted in engendering those ideas as +to swanhood of which maternal and sisterly minds are so sweetly +susceptible. “I know half a dozen old windbags at the present +moment,” said the doctor, “who were great fellows at debating clubs +when they were boys.” “Phineas is not a boy any longer,” said Mrs. +Finn. “And windbags don’t get college scholarships,” said Matilda +Finn, the second daughter. “But papa always snubs Phinny,” said +Barbara, the youngest. “I’ll snub you, if you don’t take care,” said +the doctor, taking Barbara tenderly by the ear;--for his youngest +daughter was the doctor’s pet. + +The doctor certainly did not snub his son, for he allowed him to go +over to London when he was twenty-two years of age, in order that he +might read with an English barrister. It was the doctor’s wish that +his son might be called to the Irish Bar, and the young man’s desire +that he might go to the English Bar. The doctor so far gave way, +under the influence of Phineas himself, and of all the young women of +the family, as to pay the usual fee to a very competent and learned +gentleman in the Middle Temple, and to allow his son one hundred and +fifty pounds per annum for three years. Dr. Finn, however, was still +firm in his intention that his son should settle in Dublin, and take +the Munster Circuit,--believing that Phineas might come to want home +influences and home connections, in spite of the swanhood which was +attributed to him. + +Phineas sat his terms for three years, and was duly called to +the Bar; but no evidence came home as to the acquirement of any +considerable amount of law lore, or even as to much law study, on +the part of the young aspirant. The learned pundit at whose feet he +had been sitting was not especially loud in praise of his pupil’s +industry, though he did say a pleasant word or two as to his pupil’s +intelligence. Phineas himself did not boast much of his own hard +work when at home during the long vacation. No rumours of expected +successes,--of expected professional successes,--reached the ears of +any of the Finn family at Killaloe. But, nevertheless, there came +tidings which maintained those high ideas in the maternal bosom of +which mention has been made, and which were of sufficient strength to +induce the doctor, in opposition to his own judgment, to consent to +the continued residence of his son in London. Phineas belonged to an +excellent club,--the Reform Club,--and went into very good society. +He was hand in glove with the Hon. Laurence Fitzgibbon, the youngest +son of Lord Claddagh. He was intimate with Barrington Erle, who had +been private secretary,--one of the private secretaries,--to the +great Whig Prime Minister who was lately in but was now out. He had +dined three or four times with that great Whig nobleman, the Earl of +Brentford. And he had been assured that if he stuck to the English +Bar he would certainly do well. Though he might fail to succeed in +court or in chambers, he would doubtless have given to him some +one of those numerous appointments for which none but clever young +barristers are supposed to be fitting candidates. The old doctor +yielded for another year, although at the end of the second year he +was called upon to pay a sum of three hundred pounds, which was then +due by Phineas to creditors in London. When the doctor’s male friends +in and about Killaloe heard that he had done so, they said that he +was doting. Not one of the Miss Finns was as yet married; and, after +all that had been said about the doctor’s wealth, it was supposed +that there would not be above five hundred pounds a year among them +all, were he to give up his profession. But the doctor, when he paid +that three hundred pounds for his son, buckled to his work again, +though he had for twelve months talked of giving up the midwifery. +He buckled to again, to the great disgust of Dr. Duggin, who at this +time said very ill-natured things about young Phineas. + +At the end of the three years Phineas was called to the Bar, and +immediately received a letter from his father asking minutely as to +his professional intentions. His father recommended him to settle +in Dublin, and promised the one hundred and fifty pounds for three +more years, on condition that this advice was followed. He did not +absolutely say that the allowance would be stopped if the advice were +not followed, but that was plainly to be implied. That letter came +at the moment of a dissolution of Parliament. Lord de Terrier, the +Conservative Prime Minister, who had now been in office for the +almost unprecedentedly long period of fifteen months, had found that +he could not face continued majorities against him in the House of +Commons, and had dissolved the House. Rumour declared that he would +have much preferred to resign, and betake himself once again to the +easy glories of opposition; but his party had naturally been obdurate +with him, and he had resolved to appeal to the country. When Phineas +received his father’s letter, it had just been suggested to him at +the Reform Club that he should stand for the Irish borough of +Loughshane. + +This proposition had taken Phineas Finn so much by surprise that when +first made to him by Barrington Erle it took his breath away. What! +he stand for Parliament, twenty-four years old, with no vestige +of property belonging to him, without a penny in his purse, as +completely dependent on his father as he was when he first went to +school at eleven years of age! And for Loughshane, a little borough +in the county Galway, for which a brother of that fine old Irish +peer, the Earl of Tulla, had been sitting for the last twenty +years,--a fine, high-minded representative of the thorough-going +Orange Protestant feeling of Ireland! And the Earl of Tulla, to +whom almost all Loughshane belonged,--or at any rate the land about +Loughshane,--was one of his father’s staunchest friends! Loughshane +is in county Galway, but the Earl of Tulla usually lived at his seat +in county Clare, not more than ten miles from Killaloe, and always +confided his gouty feet, and the weak nerves of the old countess, and +the stomachs of all his domestics, to the care of Dr. Finn. How was +it possible that Phineas should stand for Loughshane? From whence +was the money to come for such a contest? It was a beautiful dream, +a grand idea, lifting Phineas almost off the earth by its glory. +When the proposition was first made to him in the smoking-room at +the Reform Club by his friend Erle, he was aware that he blushed +like a girl, and that he was unable at the moment to express +himself plainly,--so great was his astonishment and so great his +gratification. But before ten minutes had passed by, while Barrington +Erle was still sitting over his shoulder on the club sofa, and before +the blushes had altogether vanished, he had seen the improbability of +the scheme, and had explained to his friend that the thing could not +be done. But to his increased astonishment, his friend made nothing +of the difficulties. Loughshane, according to Barrington Erle, was +so small a place, that the expense would be very little. There were +altogether no more than 307 registered electors. The inhabitants were +so far removed from the world, and were so ignorant of the world’s +good things, that they knew nothing about bribery. The Hon. George +Morris, who had sat for the last twenty years, was very unpopular. He +had not been near the borough since the last election, he had hardly +done more than show himself in Parliament, and had neither given a +shilling in the town nor got a place under Government for a single +son of Loughshane. “And he has quarrelled with his brother,” said +Barrington Erle. “The devil he has!” said Phineas. “I thought they +always swore by each other.” “It’s at each other they swear now,” +said Barrington; “George has asked the Earl for more money, and the +Earl has cut up rusty.” Then the negotiator went on to explain that +the expenses of the election would be defrayed out of a certain fund +collected for such purposes, that Loughshane had been chosen as a +cheap place, and that Phineas Finn had been chosen as a safe and +promising young man. As for qualification, if any question were +raised, that should be made all right. An Irish candidate was wanted, +and a Roman Catholic. So much the Loughshaners would require on +their own account when instigated to dismiss from their service +that thorough-going Protestant, the Hon. George Morris. Then “the +party,”--by which Barrington Erle probably meant the great man in +whose service he himself had become a politician,--required that +the candidate should be a safe man, one who would support “the +party,”--not a cantankerous, red-hot semi-Fenian, running about to +meetings at the Rotunda, and such-like, with views of his own about +tenant-right and the Irish Church. “But I have views of my own,” said +Phineas, blushing again. “Of course you have, my dear boy,” said +Barrington, clapping him on the back. “I shouldn’t come to you unless +you had views. But your views and ours are the same, and you’re +just the lad for Galway. You mightn’t have such an opening again +in your life, and of course you’ll stand for Loughshane.” Then the +conversation was over, the private secretary went away to arrange +some other little matter of the kind, and Phineas Finn was left alone +to consider the proposition that had been made to him. + +To become a member of the British Parliament! In all those hot +contests at the two debating clubs to which he had belonged, this +had been the ambition which had moved him. For, after all, to what +purpose of their own had those empty debates ever tended? He and +three or four others who had called themselves Liberals had been +pitted against four or five who had called themselves Conservatives, +and night after night they had discussed some ponderous subject +without any idea that one would ever persuade another, or that their +talking would ever conduce to any action or to any result. But each +of these combatants had felt,--without daring to announce a hope on +the subject among themselves,--that the present arena was only a +trial-ground for some possible greater amphitheatre, for some future +debating club in which debates would lead to action, and in which +eloquence would have power, even though persuasion might be out of +the question. + +Phineas certainly had never dared to speak, even to himself, of such +a hope. The labours of the Bar had to be encountered before the dawn +of such a hope could come to him. And he had gradually learned to +feel that his prospects at the Bar were not as yet very promising. As +regarded professional work he had been idle, and how then could he +have a hope? + +And now this thing, which he regarded as being of all things in the +world the most honourable, had come to him all at once, and was +possibly within his reach! If he could believe Barrington Erle, he +had only to lift up his hand, and he might be in Parliament within +two months. And who was to be believed on such a subject if not +Barrington Erle? This was Erle’s special business, and such a man +would not have come to him on such a subject had he not been in +earnest, and had he not himself believed in success. There was an +opening ready, an opening to this great glory,--if only it might be +possible for him to fill it! + +What would his father say? His father would of course oppose the +plan. And if he opposed his father, his father would of course stop +his income. And such an income as it was! Could it be that a man +should sit in Parliament and live upon a hundred and fifty pounds +a year? Since that payment of his debts he had become again +embarrassed,--to a slight amount. He owed a tailor a trifle, and a +bootmaker a trifle,--and something to the man who sold gloves and +shirts; and yet he had done his best to keep out of debt with more +than Irish pertinacity, living very closely, breakfasting upon tea +and a roll, and dining frequently for a shilling at a luncheon-house +up a court near Lincoln’s Inn. Where should he dine if the +Loughshaners elected him to Parliament? And then he painted to +himself a not untrue picture of the probable miseries of a man who +begins life too high up on the ladder,--who succeeds in mounting +before he has learned how to hold on when he is aloft. For our +Phineas Finn was a young man not without sense,--not entirely a +windbag. If he did this thing the probability was that he might +become utterly a castaway, and go entirely to the dogs before he was +thirty. He had heard of penniless men who had got into Parliament, +and to whom had come such a fate. He was able to name to himself a +man or two whose barks, carrying more sail than they could bear, had +gone to pieces among early breakers in this way. But then, would +it not be better to go to pieces early than never to carry any +sail at all? And there was, at any rate, the chance of success. He +was already a barrister, and there were so many things open to a +barrister with a seat in Parliament! And as he knew of men who had +been utterly ruined by such early mounting, so also did he know of +others whose fortunes had been made by happy audacity when they were +young. He almost thought that he could die happy if he had once taken +his seat in Parliament,--if he had received one letter with those +grand initials written after his name on the address. Young men in +battle are called upon to lead forlorn hopes. Three fall, perhaps, +to one who gets through; but the one who gets through will have +the Victoria Cross to carry for the rest of his life. This was his +forlorn hope; and as he had been invited to undertake the work, he +would not turn from the danger. On the following morning he again saw +Barrington Erle by appointment, and then wrote the following letter +to his father:-- + + + Reform Club, Feb., 186--. + + MY DEAR FATHER, + + I am afraid that the purport of this letter will startle + you, but I hope that when you have finished it you will + think that I am right in my decision as to what I am going + to do. You are no doubt aware that the dissolution of + Parliament will take place at once, and that we shall be + in all the turmoil of a general election by the middle of + March. I have been invited to stand for Loughshane, and + have consented. The proposition has been made to me by my + friend Barrington Erle, Mr. Mildmay’s private secretary, + and has been made on behalf of the Political Committee of + the Reform Club. I need hardly say that I should not have + thought of such a thing with a less thorough promise of + support than this gives me, nor should I think of it now + had I not been assured that none of the expense of the + election would fall upon me. Of course I could not have + asked you to pay for it. + + But to such a proposition, so made, I have felt that it + would be cowardly to give a refusal. I cannot but regard + such a selection as a great honour. I own that I am fond + of politics, and have taken great delight in their study + --(“Stupid young fool!” his father said to himself as he + read this)--and it has been my dream for years past to + have a seat in Parliament at some future time. (“Dream! + yes; I wonder whether he has ever dreamed what he is to + live upon.”) The chance has now come to me much earlier + than I have looked for it, but I do not think that it + should on that account be thrown away. Looking to my + profession, I find that many things are open to a + barrister with a seat in Parliament, and that the House + need not interfere much with a man’s practice. (“Not if + he has got to the top of his tree,” said the doctor.) + + My chief doubt arose from the fact of your old friendship + with Lord Tulla, whose brother has filled the seat for I + don’t know how many years. But it seems that George Morris + must go; or, at least, that he must be opposed by a + Liberal candidate. If I do not stand, some one else will, + and I should think that Lord Tulla will be too much of a + man to make any personal quarrel on such a subject. If he + is to lose the borough, why should not I have it as well + as another? + + I can fancy, my dear father, all that you will say as to + my imprudence, and I quite confess that I have not a word + to answer. I have told myself more than once, since last + night, that I shall probably ruin myself. (“I wonder + whether he has ever told himself that he will probably + ruin me also,” said the doctor.) But I am prepared to ruin + myself in such a cause. I have no one dependent on me; + and, as long as I do nothing to disgrace my name, I may + dispose of myself as I please. If you decide on stopping + my allowance, I shall have no feeling of anger against + you. (“How very considerate!” said the doctor.) And in + that case I shall endeavour to support myself by my pen. + I have already done a little for the magazines. + + Give my best love to my mother and sisters. If you will + receive me during the time of the election, I shall see + them soon. Perhaps it will be best for me to say that I + have positively decided on making the attempt; that is to + say, if the Club Committee is as good as its promise. I + have weighed the matter all round, and I regard the prize + as being so great, that I am prepared to run any risk to + obtain it. Indeed, to me, with my views about politics, + the running of such a risk is no more than a duty. I + cannot keep my hand from the work now that the work has + come in the way of my hand. I shall be most anxious to get + a line from you in answer to this. + + Your most affectionate son, + + PHINEAS FINN. + + +I question whether Dr. Finn, when he read this letter, did not feel +more of pride than of anger,--whether he was not rather gratified +than displeased, in spite of all that his common-sense told him on +the subject. His wife and daughters, when they heard the news, were +clearly on the side of the young man. Mrs. Finn immediately expressed +an opinion that Parliament would be the making of her son, and that +everybody would be sure to employ so distinguished a barrister. The +girls declared that Phineas ought, at any rate, to have his chance, +and almost asserted that it would be brutal in their father to stand +in their brother’s way. It was in vain that the doctor tried to +explain that going into Parliament could not help a young barrister, +whatever it might do for one thoroughly established in his +profession; that Phineas, if successful at Loughshane, would at once +abandon all idea of earning any income,--that the proposition, coming +from so poor a man, was a monstrosity,--that such an opposition +to the Morris family, coming from a son of his, would be gross +ingratitude to Lord Tulla. Mrs. Finn and the girls talked him down, +and the doctor himself was almost carried away by something like +vanity in regard to his son’s future position. + +Nevertheless he wrote a letter strongly advising Phineas to abandon +the project. But he himself was aware that the letter which he wrote +was not one from which any success could be expected. He advised +his son, but did not command him. He made no threats as to stopping +his income. He did not tell Phineas, in so many words, that he was +proposing to make an ass of himself. He argued very prudently against +the plan, and Phineas, when he received his father’s letter, of +course felt that it was tantamount to a paternal permission to +proceed with the matter. On the next day he got a letter from his +mother full of affection, full of pride,--not exactly telling him to +stand for Loughshane by all means, for Mrs. Finn was not the woman to +run openly counter to her husband in any advice given by her to their +son,--but giving him every encouragement which motherly affection and +motherly pride could bestow. “Of course you will come to us,” she +said, “if you do make up your mind to be member for Loughshane. We +shall all of us be so delighted to have you!” Phineas, who had fallen +into a sea of doubt after writing to his father, and who had demanded +a week from Barrington Erle to consider the matter, was elated to +positive certainty by the joint effect of the two letters from home. +He understood it all. His mother and sisters were altogether in +favour of his audacity, and even his father was not disposed to +quarrel with him on the subject. + +“I shall take you at your word,” he said to Barrington Erle at the +club that evening. + +“What word?” said Erle, who had too many irons in the fire to be +thinking always of Loughshane and Phineas Finn,--or who at any rate +did not choose to let his anxiety on the subject be seen. + +“About Loughshane.” + +“All right, old fellow; we shall be sure to carry you through. The +Irish writs will be out on the third of March, and the sooner you’re +there the better.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Phineas Finn Is Elected for Loughshane + + +One great difficulty about the borough vanished in a very wonderful +way at the first touch. Dr. Finn, who was a man stout at heart, +and by no means afraid of his great friends, drove himself over to +Castlemorris to tell his news to the Earl, as soon as he got a second +letter from his son declaring his intention of proceeding with the +business, let the results be what they might. Lord Tulla was a +passionate old man, and the doctor expected that there would be a +quarrel;--but he was prepared to face that. He was under no special +debt of gratitude to the lord, having given as much as he had taken +in the long intercourse which had existed between them;--and he +agreed with his son in thinking that if there was to be a Liberal +candidate at Loughshane, no consideration of old pill-boxes and +gallipots should deter his son Phineas from standing. Other +considerations might very probably deter him, but not that. The Earl +probably would be of a different opinion, and the doctor felt it to +be incumbent on him to break the news to Lord Tulla. + +“The devil he is!” said the Earl, when the doctor had told his story. +“Then I’ll tell you what, Finn, I’ll support him.” + +“You support him, Lord Tulla!” + +“Yes;--why shouldn’t I support him? I suppose it’s not so bad with me +in the country that my support will rob him of his chance! I’ll tell +you one thing for certain, I won’t support George Morris.” + +“But, my lord--” + +“Well; go on.” + +“I’ve never taken much part in politics myself, as you know; but my +boy Phineas is on the other side.” + +“I don’t care a ---- for sides. What has my party done for me? +Look at my cousin, Dick Morris. There’s not a clergyman in Ireland +stauncher to them than he has been, and now they’ve given the deanery +of Kilfenora to a man that never had a father, though I condescended +to ask for it for my cousin. Let them wait till I ask for anything +again.” Dr. Finn, who knew all about Dick Morris’s debts, and who had +heard of his modes of preaching, was not surprised at the decision +of the Conservative bestower of Irish Church patronage; but on this +subject he said nothing. “And as for George,” continued the Earl, “I +will never lift my hand again for him. His standing for Loughshane +would be quite out of the question. My own tenants wouldn’t vote for +him if I were to ask them myself. Peter Blake”--Mr. Peter Blake was +the lord’s agent--“told me only a week ago that it would be useless. +The whole thing is gone, and for my part I wish they’d disenfranchise +the borough. I wish they’d disenfranchise the whole country, and send +us a military governor. What’s the use of such members as we send? +There isn’t one gentleman among ten of them. Your son is welcome for +me. What support I can give him he shall have, but it isn’t much. I +suppose he had better come and see me.” + +The doctor promised that his son should ride over to Castlemorris, +and then took his leave,--not specially flattered, as he felt that +were his son to be returned, the Earl would not regard him as the +one gentleman among ten whom the county might send to leaven the +remainder of its members,--but aware that the greatest impediment +in his son’s way was already removed. He certainly had not gone to +Castlemorris with any idea of canvassing for his son, and yet he had +canvassed for him most satisfactorily. When he got home he did not +know how to speak of the matter otherwise than triumphantly to his +wife and daughters. Though he desired to curse, his mouth would speak +blessings. Before that evening was over the prospects of Phineas at +Loughshane were spoken of with open enthusiasm before the doctor, +and by the next day’s post a letter was written to him by Matilda, +informing him that the Earl was prepared to receive him with open +arms. “Papa has been over there and managed it all,” said Matilda. + +“I’m told George Morris isn’t going to stand,” said Barrington Erle +to Phineas the night before his departure. + +“His brother won’t support him. His brother means to support me,” +said Phineas. + +“That can hardly be so.” + +“But I tell you it is. My father has known the Earl these twenty +years, and has managed it.” + +“I say, Finn, you’re not going to play us a trick, are you?” said Mr. +Erle, with something like dismay in his voice. + +“What sort of trick?” + +“You’re not coming out on the other side?” + +“Not if I know it,” said Phineas, proudly. “Let me assure you I +wouldn’t change my views in politics either for you or for the Earl, +though each of you carried seats in your breeches pockets. If I go +into Parliament, I shall go there as a sound Liberal,--not to support +a party, but to do the best I can for the country. I tell you so, and +I shall tell the Earl the same.” + +Barrington Erle turned away in disgust. Such language was to him +simply disgusting. It fell upon his ears as false maudlin sentiment +falls on the ears of the ordinary honest man of the world. Barrington +Erle was a man ordinarily honest. He would not have been untrue to +his mother’s brother, William Mildmay, the great Whig Minister of the +day, for any earthly consideration. He was ready to work with wages +or without wages. He was really zealous in the cause, not asking +very much for himself. He had some undefined belief that it was much +better for the country that Mr. Mildmay should be in power than +that Lord de Terrier should be there. He was convinced that Liberal +politics were good for Englishmen, and that Liberal politics and the +Mildmay party were one and the same thing. It would be unfair to +Barrington Erle to deny to him some praise for patriotism. But he +hated the very name of independence in Parliament, and when he was +told of any man, that that man intended to look to measures and not +to men, he regarded that man as being both unstable as water and +dishonest as the wind. No good could possibly come from such a one, +and much evil might and probably would come. Such a politician was a +Greek to Barrington Erle, from whose hands he feared to accept even +the gift of a vote. Parliamentary hermits were distasteful to him, +and dwellers in political caves were regarded by him with aversion +as being either knavish or impractical. With a good Conservative +opponent he could shake hands almost as readily as with a good Whig +ally; but the man who was neither flesh nor fowl was odious to him. +According to his theory of parliamentary government, the House of +Commons should be divided by a marked line, and every member should +be required to stand on one side of it or on the other. “If not +with me, at any rate be against me,” he would have said to every +representative of the people in the name of the great leader whom he +followed. He thought that debates were good, because of the people +outside,--because they served to create that public opinion which was +hereafter to be used in creating some future House of Commons; but he +did not think it possible that any vote should be given on a great +question, either this way or that, as the result of a debate; and he +was certainly assured in his own opinion that any such changing of +votes would be dangerous, revolutionary, and almost unparliamentary. +A member’s vote,--except on some small crotchety open question thrown +out for the amusement of crotchety members,--was due to the leader of +that member’s party. Such was Mr. Erle’s idea of the English system +of Parliament, and, lending semi-official assistance as he did +frequently to the introduction of candidates into the House, he was +naturally anxious that his candidates should be candidates after his +own heart. When, therefore, Phineas Finn talked of measures and not +men, Barrington Erle turned away in open disgust. But he remembered +the youth and extreme rawness of the lad, and he remembered also the +careers of other men. + +Barrington Erle was forty, and experience had taught him something. +After a few seconds, he brought himself to think mildly of the young +man’s vanity,--as of the vanity of a plunging colt who resents the +liberty even of a touch. “By the end of the first session the thong +will be cracked over his head, as he patiently assists in pulling the +coach up hill, without producing from him even a flick of his tail,” +said Barrington Erle to an old parliamentary friend. + +“If he were to come out after all on the wrong side,” said the +parliamentary friend. + +Erle admitted that such a trick as that would be unpleasant, but +he thought that old Lord Tulla was hardly equal to so clever a +stratagem. + +Phineas went to Ireland, and walked over the course at Loughshane. +He called upon Lord Tulla, and heard that venerable nobleman talk a +great deal of nonsense. To tell the truth of Phineas, I must confess +that he wished to talk the nonsense himself; but the Earl would not +hear him, and put him down very quickly. “We won’t discuss politics, +if you please, Mr. Finn; because, as I have already said, I am +throwing aside all political considerations.” Phineas, therefore, was +not allowed to express his views on the government of the country in +the Earl’s sitting-room at Castlemorris. There was, however, a good +time coming; and so, for the present, he allowed the Earl to ramble +on about the sins of his brother George, and the want of all proper +pedigree on the part of the new Dean of Kilfenora. The conference +ended with an assurance on the part of Lord Tulla that if the +Loughshaners chose to elect Mr. Phineas Finn he would not be in the +least offended. The electors did elect Mr. Phineas Finn,--perhaps +for the reason given by one of the Dublin Conservative papers, which +declared that it was all the fault of the Carlton Club in not sending +a proper candidate. There was a great deal said about the matter, +both in London and Dublin, and the blame was supposed to fall on +the joint shoulders of George Morris and his elder brother. In the +meantime, our hero, Phineas Finn, had been duly elected member of +Parliament for the borough of Loughshane. + +The Finn family could not restrain their triumphings at Killaloe, and +I do not know that it would have been natural had they done so. A +gosling from such a flock does become something of a real swan by +getting into Parliament. The doctor had his misgivings,--had great +misgivings, fearful forebodings; but there was the young man elected, +and he could not help it. He could not refuse his right hand to his +son or withdraw his paternal assistance because that son had been +specially honoured among the young men of his country. So he pulled +out of his hoard what sufficed to pay off outstanding debts,--they +were not heavy,--and undertook to allow Phineas two hundred and fifty +pounds a year as long as the session should last. + +There was a widow lady living at Killaloe who was named Mrs. Flood +Jones, and she had a daughter. She had a son also, born to inherit +the property of the late Floscabel Flood Jones of Floodborough, as +soon as that property should have disembarrassed itself; but with +him, now serving with his regiment in India, we shall have no +concern. Mrs. Flood Jones was living modestly at Killaloe on her +widow’s jointure,--Floodborough having, to tell the truth, pretty +nearly fallen into absolute ruin,--and with her one daughter, Mary. +Now on the evening before the return of Phineas Finn, Esq., M.P., to +London, Mrs. and Miss Flood Jones drank tea at the doctor’s house. + +“It won’t make a bit of change in him,” Barbara Finn said to her +friend Mary, up in some bedroom privacy before the tea-drinking +ceremonies had altogether commenced. + +“Oh, it must,” said Mary. + +“I tell you it won’t, my dear; he is so good and so true.” + +“I know he is good, Barbara; and as for truth, there is no question +about it, because he has never said a word to me that he might not +say to any girl.” + +“That’s nonsense, Mary.” + +“He never has, then, as sure as the blessed Virgin watches over +us;--only you don’t believe she does.” + +“Never mind about the Virgin now, Mary.” + +“But he never has. Your brother is nothing to me, Barbara.” + +“Then I hope he will be before the evening is over. He was walking +with you all yesterday and the day before.” + +“Why shouldn’t he,--and we that have known each other all our lives? +But, Barbara, pray, pray never say a word of this to any one!” + +“Is it I? Wouldn’t I cut out my tongue first?” + +“I don’t know why I let you talk to me in this way. There has never +been anything between me and Phineas,--your brother I mean.” + +“I know whom you mean very well.” + +“And I feel quite sure that there never will be. Why should there? +He’ll go out among great people and be a great man; and I’ve already +found out that there’s a certain Lady Laura Standish whom he admires +very much.” + +“Lady Laura Fiddlestick!” + +“A man in Parliament, you know, may look up to anybody,” said Miss +Mary Flood Jones. + +“I want Phin to look up to you, my dear.” + +“That wouldn’t be looking up. Placed as he is now, that would be +looking down; and he is so proud that he’ll never do that. But come +down, dear, else they’ll wonder where we are.” + +Mary Flood Jones was a little girl about twenty years of age, with +the softest hair in the world, of a colour varying between brown and +auburn,--for sometimes you would swear it was the one and sometimes +the other; and she was as pretty as ever she could be. She was one +of those girls, so common in Ireland, whom men, with tastes that way +given, feel inclined to take up and devour on the spur of the moment; +and when she liked her lion, she had a look about her which seemed to +ask to be devoured. There are girls so cold-looking,--pretty girls, +too, ladylike, discreet, and armed with all accomplishments,--whom to +attack seems to require the same sort of courage, and the same sort +of preparation, as a journey in quest of the north-west passage. One +thinks of a pedestal near the Athenaeum as the most appropriate and +most honourable reward of such courage. But, again, there are other +girls to abstain from attacking whom is, to a man of any warmth +of temperament, quite impossible. They are like water when one is +athirst, like plovers’ eggs in March, like cigars when one is out +in the autumn. No one ever dreams of denying himself when such +temptation comes in the way. It often happens, however, that in spite +of appearances, the water will not come from the well, nor the egg +from its shell, nor will the cigar allow itself to be lit. A girl of +such appearance, so charming, was Mary Flood Jones of Killaloe, and +our hero Phineas was not allowed to thirst in vain for a drop from +the cool spring. + +When the girls went down into the drawing-room Mary was careful to +go to a part of the room quite remote from Phineas, so as to seat +herself between Mrs. Finn and Dr. Finn’s young partner, Mr. Elias +Bodkin, from Ballinasloe. But Mrs. Finn and the Miss Finns and all +Killaloe knew that Mary had no love for Mr. Bodkin, and when Mr. +Bodkin handed her the hot cake she hardly so much as smiled at him. +But in two minutes Phineas was behind her chair, and then she smiled; +and in five minutes more she had got herself so twisted round that +she was sitting in a corner with Phineas and his sister Barbara; and +in two more minutes Barbara had returned to Mr. Elias Bodkin, so that +Phineas and Mary were uninterrupted. They manage these things very +quickly and very cleverly in Killaloe. + +“I shall be off to-morrow morning by the early train,” said Phineas. + +“So soon;--and when will you have to begin,--in Parliament, I mean?” + +“I shall have to take my seat on Friday. I’m going back just in +time.” + +“But when shall we hear of your saying something?” + +“Never, probably. Not one in ten who go into Parliament ever do say +anything.” + +“But you will; won’t you? I hope you will. I do so hope you will +distinguish yourself;--because of your sister, and for the sake of +the town, you know.” + +“And is that all, Mary?” + +“Isn’t that enough?” + +“You don’t care a bit about myself, then?” + +“You know that I do. Haven’t we been friends ever since we were +children? Of course it will be a great pride to me that a person whom +I have known so intimately should come to be talked about as a great +man.” + +“I shall never be talked about as a great man.” + +“You’re a great man to me already, being in Parliament. Only +think;--I never saw a member of Parliament in my life before.” + +“You’ve seen the bishop scores of times.” + +“Is he in Parliament? Ah, but not like you. He couldn’t come to be +a Cabinet Minister, and one never reads anything about him in the +newspapers. I shall expect to see your name, very often, and I shall +always look for it. ‘Mr. Phineas Finn paired off with Mr. Mildmay.’ +What is the meaning of pairing off?” + +“I’ll explain it all to you when I come back, after learning my +lesson.” + +“Mind you do come back. But I don’t suppose you ever will. You will +be going somewhere to see Lady Laura Standish when you are not wanted +in Parliament.” + +“Lady Laura Standish!” + +“And why shouldn’t you? Of course, with your prospects, you should +go as much as possible among people of that sort. Is Lady Laura very +pretty?” + +“She’s about six feet high.” + +“Nonsense. I don’t believe that.” + +“She would look as though she were, standing by you.” + +“Because I am so insignificant and small.” + +“Because your figure is perfect, and because she is straggling. She +is as unlike you as possible in everything. She has thick lumpy red +hair, while yours is all silk and softness. She has large hands and +feet, and--” + +“Why, Phineas, you are making her out to be an ogress, and yet I know +that you admire her.” + +“So I do, because she possesses such an appearance of power. And +after all, in spite of the lumpy hair, and in spite of large hands +and straggling figure, she is handsome. One can’t tell what it is. +One can see that she is quite contented with herself, and intends to +make others contented with her. And so she does.” + +“I see you are in love with her, Phineas.” + +“No; not in love,--not with her at least. Of all men in the world, I +suppose that I am the last that has a right to be in love. I daresay +I shall marry some day.” + +“I’m sure I hope you will.” + +“But not till I’m forty or perhaps fifty years old. If I was not fool +enough to have what men call a high ambition I might venture to be in +love now.” + +“I’m sure I’m very glad that you’ve got a high ambition. It is what +every man ought to have; and I’ve no doubt that we shall hear of your +marriage soon,--very soon. And then,--if she can help you in your +ambition, we--shall--all--be so--glad.” + +Phineas did not say a word further then. Perhaps some commotion among +the party broke up the little private conversation in the corner. And +he was not alone with Mary again till there came a moment for him +to put her cloak over her shoulders in the back parlour, while Mrs. +Flood Jones was finishing some important narrative to his mother. It +was Barbara, I think, who stood in some doorway, and prevented people +from passing, and so gave him the opportunity which he abused. + +“Mary,” said he, taking her in his arms, without a single word of +love-making beyond what the reader has heard,--“one kiss before we +part.” + +“No, Phineas, no!” But the kiss had been taken and given before she +had even answered him. “Oh, Phineas, you shouldn’t!” + +“I should. Why shouldn’t I? And, Mary, I will have one morsel of your +hair.” + +“You shall not; indeed you shall not!” But the scissors were at hand, +and the ringlet was cut and in his pocket before she was ready with +her resistance. There was nothing further;--not a word more, and Mary +went away with her veil down, under her mother’s wing, weeping sweet +silent tears which no one saw. + +“You do love her; don’t you, Phineas?” asked Barbara. + +“Bother! Do you go to bed, and don’t trouble yourself about such +trifles. But mind you’re up, old girl, to see me off in the morning.” + +Everybody was up to see him off in the morning, to give him coffee +and good advice, and kisses, and to throw all manner of old shoes +after him as he started on his great expedition to Parliament. His +father gave him an extra twenty-pound note, and begged him for God’s +sake to be careful about his money. His mother told him always to +have an orange in his pocket when he intended to speak longer than +usual. And Barbara in a last whisper begged him never to forget dear +Mary Flood Jones. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Phineas Finn Takes His Seat + + +Phineas had many serious, almost solemn thoughts on his journey +towards London. I am sorry I must assure my female readers that very +few of them had reference to Mary Flood Jones. He had, however, very +carefully packed up the tress, and could bring that out for proper +acts of erotic worship at seasons in which his mind might be less +engaged with affairs of state than it was at present. Would he make a +failure of this great matter which he had taken in hand? He could not +but tell himself that the chances were twenty to one against him. Now +that he looked nearer at it all, the difficulties loomed larger than +ever, and the rewards seemed to be less, more difficult of approach, +and more evanescent. How many members were there who could never get +a hearing! How many who only spoke to fail! How many, who spoke well, +who could speak to no effect as far as their own worldly prospects +were concerned! He had already known many members of Parliament to +whom no outward respect or sign of honour was ever given by any one; +and it seemed to him, as he thought over it, that Irish members of +Parliament were generally treated with more indifference than any +others. There were O’B---- and O’C---- and O’D----, for whom no one +cared a straw, who could hardly get men to dine with them at the +club, and yet they were genuine members of Parliament. Why should he +ever be better than O’B----, or O’C----, or O’D----? And in what way +should he begin to be better? He had an idea of the fashion after +which it would be his duty to strive that he might excel those +gentlemen. He did not give any of them credit for much earnestness +in their country’s behalf, and he was minded to be very earnest. He +would go to his work honestly and conscientiously, determined to do +his duty as best he might, let the results to himself be what they +would. This was a noble resolution, and might have been pleasant to +him,--had he not remembered that smile of derision which had come +over his friend Erle’s face when he declared his intention of doing +his duty to his country as a Liberal, and not of supporting a party. +O’B---- and O’C---- and O’D---- were keen enough to support their +party, only they were sometimes a little astray at knowing which +was their party for the nonce. He knew that Erle and such men would +despise him if he did not fall into the regular groove,--and if the +Barrington Erles despised him, what would then be left for him? + +His moody thoughts were somewhat dissipated when he found one +Laurence Fitzgibbon,--the Honourable Laurence Fitzgibbon,--a special +friend of his own, and a very clever fellow, on board the boat as it +steamed out of Kingston harbour. Laurence Fitzgibbon had also just +been over about his election, and had been returned as a matter of +course for his father’s county. Laurence Fitzgibbon had sat in the +House for the last fifteen years, and was yet well-nigh as young a +man as any in it. And he was a man altogether different from the +O’B----s, O’C----s, and O’D----s. Laurence Fitzgibbon could always +get the ear of the House if he chose to speak, and his friends +declared that he might have been high up in office long since if he +would have taken the trouble to work. He was a welcome guest at the +houses of the very best people, and was a friend of whom any one +might be proud. It had for two years been a feather in the cap of +Phineas that he knew Laurence Fitzgibbon. And yet people said that +Laurence Fitzgibbon had nothing of his own, and men wondered how he +lived. He was the youngest son of Lord Claddagh, an Irish peer with a +large family, who could do nothing for Laurence, his favourite child, +beyond finding him a seat in Parliament. + +“Well, Finn, my boy,” said Laurence, shaking hands with the young +member on board the steamer, “so you’ve made it all right at +Loughshane.” Then Phineas was beginning to tell all the story, +the wonderful story, of George Morris and the Earl of Tulla,--how +the men of Loughshane had elected him without opposition; how he +had been supported by Conservatives as well as Liberals;--how +unanimous Loughshane had been in electing him, Phineas Finn, as its +representative. But Mr. Fitzgibbon seemed to care very little about +all this, and went so far as to declare that those things were +accidents which fell out sometimes one way and sometimes another, +and were altogether independent of any merit or demerit on the part +of the candidate himself. And it was marvellous and almost painful +to Phineas that his friend Fitzgibbon should accept the fact of his +membership with so little of congratulation,--with absolutely no +blowing of trumpets whatever. Had he been elected a member of the +municipal corporation of Loughshane, instead of its representative in +the British Parliament, Laurence Fitzgibbon could not have made less +fuss about it. Phineas was disappointed, but he took the cue from his +friend too quickly to show his disappointment. And when, half an hour +after their meeting, Fitzgibbon had to be reminded that his companion +was not in the House during the last session, Phineas was able to +make the remark as though he thought as little about the House as did +the old-accustomed member himself. + +“As far as I can see as yet,” said Fitzgibbon, “we are sure to have +seventeen.” + +“Seventeen?” said Phineas, not quite understanding the meaning of the +number quoted. + +“A majority of seventeen. There are four Irish counties and three +Scotch which haven’t returned as yet; but we know pretty well what +they’ll do. There’s a doubt about Tipperary, of course, but whichever +gets in of the seven who are standing, it will be a vote on our side. +Now the Government can’t live against that. The uphill strain is too +much for them.” + +“According to my idea, nothing can justify them in trying to live +against a majority.” + +“That’s gammon. When the thing is so equal, anything is fair. But you +see they don’t like it. Of course there are some among them as hungry +as we are; and Dubby would give his toes and fingers to remain in.” +Dubby was the ordinary name by which, among friends and foes, Mr. +Daubeny was known: Mr. Daubeny, who at that time was the leader of +the Conservative party in the House of Commons. “But most of them,” +continued Mr. Fitzgibbon, “prefer the other game, and if you don’t +care about money, upon my word it’s the pleasanter game of the two.” + +“But the country gets nothing done by a Tory Government.” + +“As to that, it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other. I never +knew a government yet that wanted to do anything. Give a government +a real strong majority, as the Tories used to have half a century +since, and as a matter of course it will do nothing. Why should +it? Doing things, as you call it, is only bidding for power,--for +patronage and pay.” + +“And is the country to have no service done?” + +“The country gets quite as much service as it pays for,--and perhaps +a little more. The clerks in the offices work for the country. And +the Ministers work too, if they’ve got anything to manage. There is +plenty of work done;--but of work in Parliament, the less the better, +according to my ideas. It’s very little that ever is done, and that +little is generally too much.” + +“But the people--” + +“Come down and have a glass of brandy-and-water, and leave the people +alone for the present. The people can take care of themselves a great +deal better than we can take care of them.” Mr. Fitzgibbon’s doctrine +as to the commonwealth was very different from that of Barrington +Erle, and was still less to the taste of the new member. Barrington +Erle considered that his leader, Mr. Mildmay, should be intrusted to +make all necessary changes in the laws, and that an obedient House of +Commons should implicitly obey that leader in authorising all changes +proposed by him;--but according to Barrington Erle, such changes +should be numerous and of great importance, and would, if duly passed +into law at his lord’s behest, gradually produce such a Whig Utopia +in England as has never yet been seen on the face of the earth. +Now, according to Mr. Fitzgibbon, the present Utopia would be good +enough,--if only he himself might be once more put into possession +of a certain semi-political place about the Court, from which he had +heretofore drawn £1,000 per annum, without any work, much to his +comfort. He made no secret of his ambition, and was chagrined simply +at the prospect of having to return to his electors before he could +enjoy those good things which he expected to receive from the +undoubted majority of seventeen, which had been, or would be, +achieved. + +“I hate all change as a rule,” said Fitzgibbon; “but, upon my word, +we ought to alter that. When a fellow has got a crumb of comfort, +after waiting for it years and years, and perhaps spending thousands +in elections, he has to go back and try his hand again at the last +moment, merely in obedience to some antiquated prejudice. Look at +poor Jack Bond,--the best friend I ever had in the world. He was +wrecked upon that rock for ever. He spent every shilling he had in +contesting Romford three times running,--and three times running +he got in. Then they made him Vice-Comptroller of the Granaries, +and I’m shot if he didn’t get spilt at Romford on standing for his +re-election!” + +“And what became of him?” + +“God knows. I think I heard that he married an old woman and settled +down somewhere. I know he never came up again. Now, I call that a +confounded shame. I suppose I’m safe down in Mayo, but there’s no +knowing what may happen in these days.” + +As they parted at Euston Square, Phineas asked his friend some little +nervous question as to the best mode of making a first entrance into +the House. Would Laurence Fitzgibbon see him through the difficulties +of the oath-taking? But Laurence Fitzgibbon made very little of the +difficulty. “Oh;--you just come down, and there’ll be a rush of +fellows, and you’ll know everybody. You’ll have to hang about for an +hour or so, and then you’ll get pushed through. There isn’t time for +much ceremony after a general election.” + +Phineas reached London early in the morning, and went home to bed +for an hour or so. The House was to meet on that very day, and he +intended to begin his parliamentary duties at once if he should find +it possible to get some one to accompany him; He felt that he should +lack courage to go down to Westminster Hall alone, and explain to +the policeman and door-keepers that he was the man who had just been +elected member for Loughshane. So about noon he went into the Reform +Club, and there he found a great crowd of men, among whom there was a +plentiful sprinkling of members. Erle saw him in a moment, and came +to him with congratulations. + +“So you’re all right, Finn,” said he. + +“Yes; I’m all right,--I didn’t have much doubt about it when I went +over.” + +“I never heard of a fellow with such a run of luck,” said Erle. “It’s +just one of those flukes that occur once in a dozen elections. Any +one on earth might have got in without spending a shilling.” + +Phineas didn’t at all like this. “I don’t think any one could have +got in,” said he, “without knowing Lord Tulla.” + +“Lord Tulla was nowhere, my dear boy, and could have nothing to say +to it. But never mind that. You meet me in the lobby at two. There’ll +be a lot of us there, and we’ll go in together. Have you seen +Fitzgibbon?” Then Barrington Erle went off to other business, and +Finn was congratulated by other men. But it seemed to him that the +congratulations of his friends were not hearty. He spoke to some men, +of whom he thought that he knew they would have given their eyes +to be in Parliament;--and yet they spoke of his success as being a +very ordinary thing. “Well, my boy, I hope you like it,” said one +middle-aged gentleman whom he had known ever since he came up to +London. “The difference is between working for nothing and working +for money. You’ll have to work for nothing now.” + +“That’s about it, I suppose,” said Phineas. + +“They say the House is a comfortable club,” said the middle-aged +friend, “but I confess that I shouldn’t like being rung away from my +dinner myself.” + +At two punctually Phineas was in the lobby at Westminster, and then +he found himself taken into the House with a crowd of other men. The +old and young, and they who were neither old nor young, were mingled +together, and there seemed to be very little respect of persons. On +three or four occasions there was some cheering when a popular man or +a great leader came in; but the work of the day left but little clear +impression on the mind of the young member. He was confused, half +elated, half disappointed, and had not his wits about him. He found +himself constantly regretting that he was there; and as constantly +telling himself that he, hardly yet twenty-five, without a shilling +of his own, had achieved an entrance into that assembly which by the +consent of all men is the greatest in the world, and which many of +the rich magnates of the country had in vain spent heaps of treasure +in their endeavours to open to their own footsteps. He tried hard to +realise what he had gained, but the dust and the noise and the crowds +and the want of something august to the eye were almost too strong +for him. He managed, however, to take the oath early among those who +took it, and heard the Queen’s speech read and the Address moved and +seconded. He was seated very uncomfortably, high up on a back seat, +between two men whom he did not know; and he found the speeches to be +very long. He had been in the habit of seeing such speeches reported +in about a column, and he thought that these speeches must take at +least four columns each. He sat out the debate on the Address till +the House was adjourned, and then he went away to dine at his club. +He did go into the dining-room of the House, but there was a crowd +there, and he found himself alone,--and to tell the truth, he was +afraid to order his dinner. + +The nearest approach to a triumph which he had in London came to him +from the glory which his election reflected upon his landlady. She +was a kindly good motherly soul, whose husband was a journeyman +law-stationer, and who kept a very decent house in Great Marlborough +Street. Here Phineas had lodged since he had been in London, and was +a great favourite. “God bless my soul, Mr. Phineas,” said she, “only +think of your being a member of Parliament!” + +“Yes, I’m a member of Parliament, Mrs. Bunce.” + +“And you’ll go on with the rooms the same as ever? Well, I never +thought to have a member of Parliament in ’em.” + +Mrs. Bunce really had realised the magnitude of the step which her +lodger had taken, and Phineas was grateful to her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Lady Laura Standish + + +Phineas, in describing Lady Laura Standish to Mary Flood Jones at +Killaloe, had not painted her in very glowing colours. Nevertheless +he admired Lady Laura very much, and she was worthy of admiration. It +was probably the greatest pride of our hero’s life that Lady Laura +Standish was his friend, and that she had instigated him to undertake +the risk of parliamentary life. Lady Laura was intimate also with +Barrington Erle, who was, in some distant degree, her cousin; +and Phineas was not without a suspicion that his selection for +Loughshane, from out of all the young liberal candidates, may have +been in some degree owing to Lady Laura’s influence with Barrington +Erle. He was not unwilling that it should be so; for though, +as he had repeatedly told himself, he was by no means in love +with Lady Laura,--who was, as he imagined, somewhat older than +himself,--nevertheless, he would feel gratified at accepting anything +from her hands, and he felt a keen desire for some increase to those +ties of friendship which bound them together. No;--he was not in love +with Lady Laura Standish. He had not the remotest idea of asking her +to be his wife. So he told himself, both before he went over for his +election, and after his return. When he had found himself in a corner +with poor little Mary Flood Jones, he had kissed her as a matter of +course; but he did not think that he could, in any circumstances, be +tempted to kiss Lady Laura. He supposed that he was in love with his +darling little Mary,--after a fashion. Of course, it could never come +to anything, because of the circumstances of his life, which were +so imperious to him. He was not in love with Lady Laura, and yet he +hoped that his intimacy with her might come to much. He had more than +once asked himself how he would feel when somebody else came to be +really in love with Lady Laura,--for she was by no means a woman to +lack lovers,--when some one else should be in love with her, and be +received by her as a lover; but this question he had never been able +to answer. There were many questions about himself which he usually +answered by telling himself that it was his fate to walk over +volcanoes. “Of course, I shall be blown into atoms some fine day,” he +would say; “but after all, that is better than being slowly boiled +down into pulp.” + +The House had met on a Friday, again on the Saturday morning, and +the debate on the Address had been adjourned till the Monday. On +the Sunday, Phineas determined that he would see Lady Laura. She +professed to be always at home on Sunday, and from three to four in +the afternoon her drawing-room would probably be half full of people. +There would, at any rate, be comers and goers, who would prevent +anything like real conversation between himself and her. But for a +few minutes before that he might probably find her alone, and he was +most anxious to see whether her reception of him, as a member of +Parliament, would be in any degree warmer than that of his other +friends. Hitherto he had found no such warmth since he came to +London, excepting that which had glowed in the bosom of Mrs. Bunce. + +Lady Laura Standish was the daughter of the Earl of Brentford, and +was the only remaining lady of the Earl’s family. The Countess had +been long dead; and Lady Emily, the younger daughter, who had been +the great beauty of her day, was now the wife of a Russian nobleman +whom she had persisted in preferring to any of her English suitors, +and lived at St. Petersburg. There was an aunt, old Lady Laura, who +came up to town about the middle of May; but she was always in the +country except for some six weeks in the season. There was a certain +Lord Chiltern, the Earl’s son and heir, who did indeed live at the +family town house in Portman Square; but Lord Chiltern was a man of +whom Lady Laura’s set did not often speak, and Phineas, frequently +as he had been at the house, had never seen Lord Chiltern there. He +was a young nobleman of whom various accounts were given by various +people; but I fear that the account most readily accepted in London +attributed to him a great intimacy with the affairs at Newmarket, +and a partiality for convivial pleasures. Respecting Lord Chiltern +Phineas had never as yet exchanged a word with Lady Laura. With her +father he was acquainted, as he had dined perhaps half a dozen times +at the house. The point in Lord Brentford’s character which had more +than any other struck our hero, was the unlimited confidence which he +seemed to place in his daughter. Lady Laura seemed to have perfect +power of doing what she pleased. She was much more mistress of +herself than if she had been the wife instead of the daughter of the +Earl of Brentford,--and she seemed to be quite as much mistress of +the house. + +Phineas had declared at Killaloe that Lady Laura was six feet high, +that she had red hair, that her figure was straggling, and that her +hands and feet were large. She was in fact about five feet seven +in height, and she carried her height well. There was something of +nobility in her gait, and she seemed thus to be taller than her +inches. Her hair was in truth red,--of a deep thorough redness. Her +brother’s hair was the same; and so had been that of her father, +before it had become sandy with age. Her sister’s had been of a soft +auburn hue, and hers had been said to be the prettiest head of hair +in Europe at the time of her marriage. But in these days we have got +to like red hair, and Lady Laura’s was not supposed to stand in the +way of her being considered a beauty. Her face was very fair, though +it lacked that softness which we all love in women. Her eyes, which +were large and bright, and very clear, never seemed to quail, never +rose and sunk or showed themselves to be afraid of their own power. +Indeed, Lady Laura Standish had nothing of fear about her. Her +nose was perfectly cut, but was rather large, having the slightest +possible tendency to be aquiline. Her mouth also was large, but was +full of expression, and her teeth were perfect. Her complexion was +very bright, but in spite of its brightness she never blushed. The +shades of her complexion were set and steady. Those who knew her said +that her heart was so fully under command that nothing could stir her +blood to any sudden motion. As to that accusation of straggling which +had been made against her, it had sprung from ill-natured observation +of her modes of sitting. She never straggled when she stood or +walked; but she would lean forward when sitting, as a man does, and +would use her arms in talking, and would put her hand over her face, +and pass her fingers through her hair,--after the fashion of men +rather than of women;--and she seemed to despise that soft quiescence +of her sex in which are generally found so many charms. Her hands +and feet were large,--as was her whole frame. Such was Lady Laura +Standish; and Phineas Finn had been untrue to himself and to his own +appreciation of the lady when he had described her in disparaging +terms to Mary Flood Jones. But, though he had spoken of Lady Laura +in disparaging terms, he had so spoken of her as to make Miss Flood +Jones quite understand that he thought a great deal about Lady Laura. + +And now, early on the Sunday, he made his way to Portman Square in +order that he might learn whether there might be any sympathy for him +there. Hitherto he had found none. Everything had been terribly dry +and hard, and he had gathered as yet none of the fruit which he had +expected that his good fortune would bear for him. It is true that he +had not as yet gone among any friends, except those of his club, and +men who were in the House along with him;--and at the club it might +be that there were some who envied him his good fortune, and others +who thought nothing of it because it had been theirs for years. Now +he would try a friend who, he hoped, could sympathise; and therefore +he called in Portman Square at about half-past two on the Sunday +morning. Yes,--Lady Laura was in the drawing-room. The hall-porter +admitted as much, but evidently seemed to think that he had been +disturbed from his dinner before his time. Phineas did not care a +straw for the hall-porter. If Lady Laura were not kind to him, he +would never trouble that hall-porter again. He was especially sore at +this moment because a valued friend, the barrister with whom he had +been reading for the last three years, had spent the best part of +an hour that Sunday morning in proving to him that he had as good +as ruined himself. “When I first heard it, of course I thought you +had inherited a fortune,” said Mr. Low. “I have inherited nothing,” +Phineas replied;--“not a penny; and I never shall.” Then Mr. Low had +opened his eyes very wide, and shaken his head very sadly, and had +whistled. + +“I am so glad you have come, Mr. Finn,” said Lady Laura, meeting +Phineas half-way across the large room. + +“Thanks,” said he, as he took her hand. + +“I thought that perhaps you would manage to see me before any one +else was here.” + +“Well;--to tell the truth, I have wished it; though I can hardly tell +why.” + +“I can tell you why, Mr. Finn. But never mind;--come and sit down. +I am so very glad that you have been successful;--so very glad. You +know I told you that I should never think much of you if you did not +at least try it.” + +“And therefore I did try.” + +“And have succeeded. Faint heart, you know, never did any good. I +think it is a man’s duty to make his way into the House;--that is, if +he ever means to be anybody. Of course it is not every man who can +get there by the time that he is five-and-twenty.” + +“Every friend that I have in the world says that I have ruined +myself.” + +“No;--I don’t say so,” said Lady Laura. + +“And you are worth all the others put together. It is such a comfort +to have some one to say a cheery word to one.” + +“You shall hear nothing but cheery words here. Papa shall say cheery +words to you that shall be better than mine, because they shall be +weighted with the wisdom of age. I have heard him say twenty times +that the earlier a man goes into the House the better. There is much +to learn.” + +“But your father was thinking of men of fortune.” + +“Not at all;--of younger brothers, and barristers, and of men who +have their way to make, as you have. Let me see,--can you dine here +on Wednesday? There will be no party, of course, but papa will want +to shake hands with you; and you legislators of the Lower House are +more easily reached on Wednesdays than on any other day.” + +“I shall be delighted,” said Phineas, feeling, however, that he did +not expect much sympathy from Lord Brentford. + +“Mr. Kennedy dines here;--you know Mr. Kennedy, of Loughlinter; and +we will ask your friend Mr. Fitzgibbon. There will be nobody else. As +for catching Barrington Erle, that is out of the question at such a +time as this.” + +“But going back to my being ruined--” said Phineas, after a pause. + +“Don’t think of anything so disagreeable.” + +“You must not suppose that I am afraid of it. I was going to say that +there are worse things than ruin,--or, at any rate, than the chance +of ruin. Supposing that I have to emigrate and skin sheep, what +does it matter? I myself, being unencumbered, have myself as my own +property to do what I like with. With Nelson it was Westminster Abbey +or a peerage. With me it is parliamentary success or sheep-skinning.” + +“There shall be no sheep-skinning, Mr. Finn. I will guarantee you.” + +“Then I shall be safe.” + +At that moment the door of the room was opened, and a man entered +with quick steps, came a few yards in, and then retreated, slamming +the door after him. He was a man with thick short red hair, and an +abundance of very red beard. And his face was red,--and, as it seemed +to Phineas, his very eyes. There was something in the countenance of +the man which struck him almost with dread,--something approaching to +ferocity. + +There was a pause a moment after the door was closed, and then Lady +Laura spoke. “It was my brother Chiltern. I do not think that you +have ever met him.” + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Mr. and Mrs. Low + + +That terrible apparition of the red Lord Chiltern had disturbed +Phineas in the moment of his happiness as he sat listening to the +kind flatteries of Lady Laura; and though Lord Chiltern had vanished +as quickly as he had appeared, there had come no return of his joy. +Lady Laura had said some word about her brother, and Phineas had +replied that he had never chanced to see Lord Chiltern. Then there +had been an awkward silence, and almost immediately other persons had +come in. After greeting one or two old acquaintances, among whom an +elder sister of Laurence Fitzgibbon was one, he took his leave and +escaped out into the square. “Miss Fitzgibbon is going to dine with +us on Wednesday,” said Lady Laura. “She says she won’t answer for her +brother, but she will bring him if she can.” + +“And you’re a member of Parliament now too, they tell me,” said Miss +Fitzgibbon, holding up her hands. “I think everybody will be in +Parliament before long. I wish I knew some man who wasn’t, that I +might think of changing my condition.” + +But Phineas cared very little what Miss Fitzgibbon said to him. +Everybody knew Aspasia Fitzgibbon, and all who knew her were +accustomed to put up with the violence of her jokes and the +bitterness of her remarks. She was an old maid, over forty, very +plain, who, having reconciled herself to the fact that she was an old +maid, chose to take advantage of such poor privileges as the position +gave her. Within the last few years a considerable fortune had fallen +into her hands, some twenty-five thousand pounds, which had come to +her unexpectedly,--a wonderful windfall. And now she was the only one +of her family who had money at command. She lived in a small house by +herself, in one of the smallest streets of May Fair, and walked about +sturdily by herself, and spoke her mind about everything. She was +greatly devoted to her brother Laurence,--so devoted that there was +nothing she would not do for him, short of lending him money. + +But Phineas when he found himself out in the square thought nothing +of Aspasia Fitzgibbon. He had gone to Lady Laura Standish for +sympathy, and she had given it to him in full measure. She understood +him and his aspirations if no one else did so on the face of the +earth. She rejoiced in his triumph, and was not too hard to tell him +that she looked forward to his success. And in what delightful +language she had done so! “Faint heart never won fair lady.” It was +thus, or almost thus, that she had encouraged him. He knew well that +she had in truth meant nothing more than her words had seemed to +signify. He did not for a moment attribute to her aught else. But +might not he get another lesson from them? He had often told himself +that he was not in love with Laura Standish;--but why should he not +how tell himself that he was in love with her? Of course there would +be difficulty. But was it not the business of his life to overcome +difficulties? Had he not already overcome one difficulty almost as +great; and why should he be afraid of this other? Faint heart never +won fair lady! And this fair lady,--for at this moment he was ready +to swear that she was very fair,--was already half won. She could not +have taken him by the hand so warmly, and looked into his face so +keenly, had she not felt for him something stronger than common +friendship. + +He had turned down Baker Street from the square, and was now walking +towards the Regent’s Park. He would go and see the beasts in the +Zoological Gardens, and make up his mind as to his future mode of +life in that delightful Sunday solitude. There was very much as to +which it was necessary that he should make up his mind. If he +resolved that he would ask Lady Laura Standish to be his wife, when +should he ask her, and in what manner might he propose to her that +they should live? It would hardly suit him to postpone his courtship +indefinitely, knowing, as he did know, that he would be one among +many suitors. He could not expect her to wait for him if he did not +declare himself. And yet he could hardly ask her to come and share +with him the allowance made to him by his father! Whether she had +much fortune of her own, or little, or none at all, he did not in the +least know. He did know that the Earl had been distressed by his +son’s extravagance, and that there had been some money difficulties +arising from this source. + +But his great desire would be to support his own wife by his own +labour. At present he was hardly in a fair way to do that, unless he +could get paid for his parliamentary work. Those fortunate gentlemen +who form “The Government” are so paid. Yes;--there was the Treasury +Bench open to him, and he must resolve that he would seat himself +there. He would make Lady Laura understand this, and then he would +ask his question. It was true that at present his political opponents +had possession of the Treasury Bench;--but all governments are +mortal, and Conservative governments in this country are especially +prone to die. It was true that he could not hold even a Treasury +lordship with a poor thousand a year for his salary without having to +face the electors of Loughshane again before he entered upon the +enjoyment of his place;--but if he could only do something to give a +grace to his name, to show that he was a rising man, the electors of +Loughshane, who had once been so easy with him, would surely not be +cruel to him when he showed himself a second time among them. Lord +Tulla was his friend, and he had those points of law in his favour +which possession bestows. And then he remembered that Lady Laura was +related to almost everybody who was anybody among the high Whigs. She +was, he knew, second cousin to Mr. Mildmay, who for years had been +the leader of the Whigs, and was third cousin to Barrington Erle. The +late President of the Council, the Duke of St. Bungay, and Lord +Brentford had married sisters, and the St. Bungay people, and the +Mildmay people, and the Brentford people had all some sort of +connection with the Palliser people, of whom the heir and coming +chief, Plantagenet Palliser, would certainly be Chancellor of the +Exchequer in the next Government. Simply as an introduction into +official life nothing could be more conducive to chances of success +than a matrimonial alliance with Lady Laura. Not that he would have +thought of such a thing on that account! No;--he thought of it +because he loved her; honestly because he loved her. He swore to that +half a dozen times, for his own satisfaction. But, loving her as he +did, and resolving that in spite of all difficulties she should +become his wife, there could be no reason why he should not,--on her +account as well as on his own,--take advantage of any circumstances +that there might be in his favour. + +As he wandered among the unsavoury beasts, elbowed on every side by +the Sunday visitors to the garden, he made up his mind that he would +first let Lady Laura understand what were his intentions with regard +to his future career, and then he would ask her to join her lot to +his. At every turn the chances would of course be very much against +him;--ten to one against him, perhaps, on every point; but it was his +lot in life to have to face such odds. Twelve months since it had +been much more than ten to one against his getting into Parliament; +and yet he was there. He expected to be blown into fragments,--to +sheep-skinning in Australia, or packing preserved meats on the plains +of Paraguay; but when the blowing into atoms should come, he was +resolved that courage to bear the ruin should not be wanting. Then he +quoted a line or two of a Latin poet, and felt himself to be +comfortable. + +“So, here you are again, Mr. Finn,” said a voice in his ear. + +“Yes, Miss Fitzgibbon; here I am again.” + +“I fancied you members of Parliament had something else to do besides +looking at wild beasts. I thought you always spent Sunday in +arranging how you might most effectually badger each other on +Monday.” + +“We got through all that early this morning, Miss Fitzgibbon, while +you were saying your prayers.” + +“Here is Mr. Kennedy too;--you know him I daresay. He also is a +member; but then he can afford to be idle.” But it so happened that +Phineas did not know Mr. Kennedy, and consequently there was some +slight form of introduction. + +“I believe I am to meet you at dinner on Wednesday,”--said +Phineas,--“at Lord Brentford’s.” + +“And me too,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. + +“Which will be the greatest possible addition to our pleasure,” said +Phineas. + +Mr. Kennedy, who seemed to be afflicted with some difficulty in +speaking, and whose bow to our hero had hardly done more than produce +the slightest possible motion to the top of his hat, hereupon +muttered something which was taken to mean an assent to the +proposition as to Wednesday’s dinner. Then he stood perfectly still, +with his two hands fixed on the top of his umbrella, and gazed at the +great monkeys’ cage. But it was clear that he was not looking at any +special monkey, for his eyes never wandered. + +“Did you ever see such a contrast in your life?” said Miss Fitzgibbon +to Phineas,--hardly in a whisper. + +“Between what?” said Phineas. + +“Between Mr. Kennedy and a monkey. The monkey has so much to say for +himself, and is so delightfully wicked! I don’t suppose that Mr. +Kennedy ever did anything wrong in his life.” + +Mr. Kennedy was a man who had very little temptation to do anything +wrong. He was possessed of over a million and a half of money, which +he was mistaken enough to suppose he had made himself; whereas it may +be doubted whether he had ever earned a penny. His father and his +uncle had created a business in Glasgow, and that business now +belonged to him. But his father and his uncle, who had toiled through +their long lives, had left behind them servants who understood the +work, and the business now went on prospering almost by its own +momentum. The Mr. Kennedy of the present day, the sole owner of the +business, though he did occasionally go to Glasgow, certainly did +nothing towards maintaining it. He had a magnificent place in +Perthshire, called Loughlinter, and he sat for a Scotch group of +boroughs, and he had a house in London, and a stud of horses in +Leicestershire, which he rarely visited, and was unmarried. He never +spoke much to any one, although he was constantly in society. He +rarely did anything, although he had the means of doing everything. +He had very seldom been on his legs in the House of Commons, though +he had sat there for ten years. He was seen about everywhere, +sometimes with one acquaintance and sometimes with another;--but it +may be doubted whether he had any friend. It may be doubted whether +he had ever talked enough to any man to make that man his friend. +Laurence Fitzgibbon tried him for one season, and after a month or +two asked for a loan of a few hundred pounds. “I never lend money to +any one under any circumstances,” said Mr. Kennedy, and it was the +longest speech which had ever fallen from his mouth in the hearing of +Laurence Fitzgibbon. But though he would not lend money, he gave a +great deal,--and he would give it for almost every object. “Mr. +Robert Kennedy, M.P., Loughlinter, £105,” appeared on almost every +charitable list that was advertised. No one ever spoke to him as to +this expenditure, nor did he ever speak to any one. Circulars came to +him and the cheques were returned. The duty was a very easy one to +him, and he performed it willingly. Had any amount of inquiry been +necessary, it is possible that the labour would have been too much +for him. Such was Mr. Robert Kennedy, as to whom Phineas had heard +that he had during the last winter entertained Lord Brentford and +Lady Laura, with very many other people of note, at his place in +Perthshire. + +“I very much prefer the monkey,” said Phineas to Miss Fitzgibbon. + +“I thought you would,” said she. “Like to like, you know. You have +both of you the same aptitude for climbing. But the monkeys never +fall, they tell me.” + +Phineas, knowing that he could gain nothing by sparring with Miss +Fitzgibbon, raised his hat and took his leave. Going out of a narrow +gate he found himself again brought into contact with Mr. Kennedy. +“What a crowd there is here,” he said, finding himself bound to say +something. Mr. Kennedy, who was behind him, answered him not a word. +Then Phineas made up his mind that Mr. Kennedy was insolent with the +insolence of riches, and that he would hate Mr. Kennedy. + +He was engaged to dine on this Sunday with Mr. Low, the barrister, +with whom he had been reading for the last three years. Mr. Low had +taken a strong liking to Phineas, as had also Mrs. Low, and the tutor +had more than once told his pupil that success in his profession was +certainly open to him if he would only stick to his work. Mr. Low was +himself an ambitious man, looking forward to entering Parliament at +some future time, when the exigencies of his life of labour might +enable him to do so; but he was prudent, given to close calculation, +and resolved to make the ground sure beneath his feet in every step +that he took forward. When he first heard that Finn intended to stand +for Loughshane he was stricken with dismay, and strongly dissuaded +him. “The electors may probably reject him. That’s his only chance +now,” Mr. Low had said to his wife, when he found that Phineas was, +as he thought, foolhardy. But the electors of Loughshane had not +rejected Mr. Low’s pupil, and Mr. Low was now called upon to advise +what Phineas should do in his present circumstances. There is nothing +to prevent the work of a Chancery barrister being done by a member of +Parliament. Indeed, the most successful barristers are members of +Parliament. But Phineas Finn was beginning at the wrong end, and Mr. +Low knew that no good would come of it. + +“Only think of your being in Parliament, Mr. Finn,” said Mrs. Low. + +“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” said Phineas. + +“It took us so much by surprise!” said Mrs. Low. “As a rule one never +hears of a barrister going into Parliament till after he’s forty.” + +“And I’m only twenty-five. I do feel that I’ve disgraced myself. I +do, indeed, Mrs. Low.” + +“No;--you’ve not disgraced yourself, Mr. Finn. The only question is, +whether it’s prudent. I hope it will all turn out for the best, most +heartily.” Mrs. Low was a very matter-of-fact lady, four or five +years older than her husband, who had had a little money of her own, +and was possessed of every virtue under the sun. Nevertheless she did +not quite like the idea of her husband’s pupil having got into +Parliament. If her husband and Phineas Finn were dining anywhere +together, Phineas, who had come to them quite a boy, would walk out +of the room before her husband. This could hardly be right! +Nevertheless she helped Phineas to the nicest bit of fish she could +find, and had he been ill, would have nursed him with the greatest +care. + +After dinner, when Mrs. Low had gone up-stairs, there came the great +discussion between the tutor and the pupil, for the sake of which +this little dinner had been given. When Phineas had last been with +Mr. Low,--on the occasion of his showing himself at his tutor’s +chambers after his return from Ireland,--he had not made up his mind +so thoroughly on certain points as he had done since he had seen Lady +Laura. The discussion could hardly be of any avail now,--but it could +not be avoided. + +“Well, Phineas, and what do you mean to do?” said Mr. Low. Everybody +who knew our hero, or nearly everybody, called him by his Christian +name. There are men who seem to be so treated by general consent in +all societies. Even Mrs. Low, who was very prosaic, and unlikely to +be familiar in her mode of address, had fallen into the way of doing +it before the election. But she had dropped it, when the Phineas whom +she used to know became a member of Parliament. + +“That’s the question;--isn’t it?” said Phineas. + +“Of course you’ll stick to your work?” + +“What;--to the Bar?” + +“Yes;--to the Bar.” + +“I am not thinking of giving it up permanently.” + +“Giving it up,” said Mr. Low, raising his hands in surprise. “If you +give it up, how do you intend to live? Men are not paid for being +members of Parliament.” + +“Not exactly. But, as I said before, I am not thinking of giving it +up,--permanently.” + +“You mustn’t give it up at all,--not for a day; that is, if you ever +mean to do any good.” + +“There I think that perhaps you may be wrong, Low!” + +“How can I be wrong? Did a period of idleness ever help a man in any +profession? And is it not acknowledged by all who know anything about +it, that continuous labour is more necessary in our profession than +in any other?” + +“I do not mean to be idle.” + +“What is it you do mean, Phineas?” + +“Why simply this. Here I am in Parliament. We must take that as a +fact.” + +“I don’t doubt the fact.” + +“And if it be a misfortune, we must make the best of it. Even you +wouldn’t advise me to apply for the Chiltern Hundreds at once.” + +“I would;--to-morrow. My dear fellow, though I do not like to give +you pain, if you come to me I can only tell you what I think. My +advice to you is to give it up to-morrow. Men would laugh at you for +a few weeks, but that is better than being ruined for life.” + +“I can’t do that,” said Phineas, sadly. + +“Very well;--then let us go on,” said Mr. Low. “If you won’t give up +your seat, the next best thing will be to take care that it shall +interfere as little as possible with your work. I suppose you must +sit upon some Committees.” + +“My idea is this,--that I will give up one year to learning the +practices of the House.” + +“And do nothing?” + +“Nothing but that. Why, the thing is a study in itself. As for +learning it in a year, that is out of the question. But I am +convinced that if a man intends to be a useful member of Parliament, +he should make a study of it.” + +“And how do you mean to live in the meantime?” Mr. Low, who was an +energetic man, had assumed almost an angry tone of voice. Phineas for +awhile sat silent;--not that he felt himself to be without words for +a reply, but that he was thinking in what fewest words he might best +convey his ideas. “You have a very modest allowance from your father, +on which you have never been able to keep yourself free from debt,” +continued Mr. Low. + +“He has increased it.” + +“And will it satisfy you to live here, in what will turn out to be +parliamentary club idleness, on the savings of his industrious life? +I think you will find yourself unhappy if you do that. Phineas, my +dear fellow, as far as I have as yet been able to see the world, men +don’t begin either very good or very bad. They have generally good +aspirations with infirm purposes;--or, as we may say, strong bodies +with weak legs to carry them. Then, because their legs are weak, they +drift into idleness and ruin. During all this drifting they are +wretched, and when they have thoroughly drifted they are still +wretched. The agony of their old disappointment still clings to them. +In nine cases out of ten it is some one small unfortunate event that +puts a man astray at first. He sees some woman and loses himself with +her;--or he is taken to a racecourse and unluckily wins money;--or +some devil in the shape of a friend lures him to tobacco and brandy. +Your temptation has come in the shape of this accursed seat in +Parliament.” Mr. Low had never said a soft word in his life to any +woman but the wife of his bosom, had never seen a racehorse, always +confined himself to two glasses of port after dinner, and looked upon +smoking as the darkest of all the vices. + +“You have made up your mind, then, that I mean to be idle?” + +“I have made up my mind that your time will be wholly +unprofitable,--if you do as you say you intend to do.” + +“But you do not know my plan;--just listen to me.” Then Mr. Low did +listen, and Phineas explained his plan,--saying, of course, nothing +of his love for Lady Laura, but giving Mr. Low to understand that he +intended to assist in turning out the existing Government and to +mount up to some seat,--a humble seat at first,--on the Treasury +bench, by the help of his exalted friends and by the use of his own +gifts of eloquence. Mr. Low heard him without a word. “Of course,” +said Phineas, “after the first year my time will not be fully +employed, unless I succeed. And if I fail totally,--for, of course, I +may fail altogether--” + +“It is possible,” said Mr. Low. + +“If you are resolved to turn yourself against me, I must not say +another word,” said Phineas, with anger. + +“Turn myself against you! I would turn myself any way so that I might +save you from the sort of life which you are preparing for yourself. +I see nothing in it that can satisfy any manly heart. Even if you are +successful, what are you to become? You will be the creature of some +minister, not his colleague. You are to make your way up the ladder +by pretending to agree whenever agreement is demanded from you, and +by voting whether you agree or do not. And what is to be your reward? +Some few precarious hundreds a year, lasting just so long as a party +may remain in power and you can retain a seat in Parliament! It is at +the best slavery and degradation,--even if you are lucky enough to +achieve the slavery.” + +“You yourself hope to go into Parliament and join a ministry some +day,” said Phineas. + +Mr. Low was not quick to answer, but he did answer at last. “That is +true, though I have never told you so. Indeed, it is hardly true to +say that I hope it. I have my dreams, and sometimes dare to tell +myself that they may possibly become waking facts. But if ever I sit +on a Treasury bench I shall sit there by special invitation, having +been summoned to take a high place because of my professional +success. It is but a dream after all, and I would not have you repeat +what I have said to any one. I had no intention to talk about +myself.” + +“I am sure that you will succeed,” said Phineas. + +“Yes;--I shall succeed. I am succeeding. I live upon what I earn, +like a gentleman, and can already afford to be indifferent to work +that I dislike. After all, the other part of it,--that of which I +dream,--is but an unnecessary adjunct; the gilding on the +gingerbread. I am inclined to think that the cake is more wholesome +without it.” + +Phineas did not go up-stairs into Mrs. Low’s drawing-room on that +evening, nor did he stay very late with Mr. Low. He had heard enough +of counsel to make him very unhappy,--to shake from him much of the +audacity which he had acquired for himself during his morning’s +walk,--and to make him almost doubt whether, after all, the +Chiltern Hundreds would not be for him the safest escape from his +difficulties. But in that case he must never venture to see Lady +Laura Standish again. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Lord Brentford’s Dinner + + +No;--in such case as that,--should he resolve upon taking the advice +of his old friend Mr. Low, Phineas Finn must make up his mind never +to see Lady Laura Standish again! And he was in love with Lady Laura +Standish;--and, for aught he knew, Lady Laura Standish might be in +love with him. As he walked home from Mr. Low’s house in Bedford +Square, he was by no means a triumphant man. There had been much more +said between him and Mr. Low than could be laid before the reader +in the last chapter. Mr. Low had urged him again and again, and had +prevailed so far that Phineas, before he left the house, had promised +to consider that suicidal expedient of the Chiltern Hundreds. What a +by-word he would become if he were to give up Parliament, having sat +there for about a week! But such immediate giving up was one of the +necessities of Mr. Low’s programme. According to Mr. Low’s teaching, +a single year passed amidst the miasma of the House of Commons would +be altogether fatal to any chance of professional success. And Mr. +Low had at any rate succeeded in making Phineas believe that he +was right in this lesson. There was his profession, as to which Mr. +Low assured him that success was within his reach; and there was +Parliament on the other side, as to which he knew that the chances +were all against him, in spite of his advantage of a seat. That he +could not combine the two, beginning with Parliament, he did believe. +Which should it be? That was the question which he tried to decide +as he walked home from Bedford Square to Great Marlborough Street. +He could not answer the question satisfactorily, and went to bed an +unhappy man. + +He must at any rate go to Lord Brentford’s dinner on Wednesday, and, +to enable him to join in the conversation there, must attend the +debates on Monday and Tuesday. The reader may perhaps be best made to +understand how terrible was our hero’s state of doubt by being told +that for awhile he thought of absenting himself from these debates, +as being likely to weaken his purpose of withdrawing altogether from +the House. It is not very often that so strong a fury rages between +party and party at the commencement of the session that a division +is taken upon the Address. It is customary for the leader of the +opposition on such occasions to express his opinion in the most +courteous language, that his right honourable friend, sitting +opposite to him on the Treasury bench, has been, is, and will be +wrong in everything that he thinks, says, or does in public life; but +that, as anything like factious opposition is never adopted on that +side of the House, the Address to the Queen, in answer to that most +fatuous speech which has been put into her Majesty’s gracious mouth, +shall be allowed to pass unquestioned. Then the leader of the House +thanks his adversary for his consideration, explains to all men how +happy the country ought to be that the Government has not fallen into +the disgracefully incapable hands of his right honourable friend +opposite; and after that the Address is carried amidst universal +serenity. But such was not the order of the day on the present +occasion. Mr. Mildmay, the veteran leader of the liberal side of the +House, had moved an amendment to the Address, and had urged upon the +House, in very strong language, the expediency of showing, at the +very commencement of the session, that the country had returned +to Parliament a strong majority determined not to put up with +Conservative inactivity. “I conceive it to be my duty,” Mr. Mildmay +had said, “at once to assume that the country is unwilling that the +right honourable gentlemen opposite should keep their seats on the +bench upon which they sit, and in the performance of that duty I am +called upon to divide the House upon the Address to her Majesty.” And +if Mr. Mildmay used strong language, the reader may be sure that Mr. +Mildmay’s followers used language much stronger. And Mr. Daubeny, who +was the present leader of the House, and representative there of the +Ministry,--Lord de Terrier, the Premier, sitting in the House of +Lords,--was not the man to allow these amenities to pass by without +adequate replies. He and his friends were very strong in sarcasm, +if they failed in argument, and lacked nothing for words, though +it might perhaps be proved that they were short in numbers. It was +considered that the speech in which Mr. Daubeny reviewed the long +political life of Mr. Mildmay, and showed that Mr. Mildmay had been +at one time a bugbear, and then a nightmare, and latterly simply a +fungus, was one of the severest attacks, if not the most severe, that +had been heard in that House since the Reform Bill. Mr. Mildmay, the +while, was sitting with his hat low down over his eyes, and many men +said that he did not like it. But this speech was not made till after +that dinner at Lord Brentford’s, of which a short account must be +given. + +Had it not been for the overwhelming interest of the doings in +Parliament at the commencement of the session, Phineas might have +perhaps abstained from attending, in spite of the charm of novelty. +For, in truth, Mr. Low’s words had moved him much. But if it was to +be his fate to be a member of Parliament only for ten days, surely it +would be well that he should take advantage of the time to hear such +a debate as this. It would be a thing to talk of to his children in +twenty years’ time, or to his grandchildren in fifty;--and it would +be essentially necessary that he should be able to talk of it to Lady +Laura Standish. He did, therefore, sit in the House till one on the +Monday night, and till two on the Tuesday night, and heard the debate +adjourned till the Thursday. On the Thursday Mr. Daubeny was to make +his great speech, and then the division would come. + +When Phineas entered Lady Laura’s drawing-room on the Wednesday +before dinner, he found the other guests all assembled. Why men +should have been earlier in keeping their dinner engagements on that +day than on any other he did not understand; but it was the fact, +probably, that the great anxiety of the time made those who were at +all concerned in the matter very keen to hear and to be heard. During +these days everybody was in a hurry,--everybody was eager; and there +was a common feeling that not a minute was to be lost. There were +three ladies in the room,--Lady Laura, Miss Fitzgibbon, and Mrs. +Bonteen. The latter was the wife of a gentleman who had been a junior +Lord of the Admiralty in the late Government, and who lived in the +expectation of filling, perhaps, some higher office in the Government +which, as he hoped, was soon to be called into existence. There +were five gentlemen besides Phineas Finn himself,--Mr. Bonteen, Mr. +Kennedy, Mr. Fitzgibbon, Barrington Erle, who had been caught in +spite of all that Lady Laura had said as to the difficulty of such +an operation, and Lord Brentford. Phineas was quick to observe that +every male guest was in Parliament, and to tell himself that he would +not have been there unless he also had had a seat. + +“We are all here now,” said the Earl, ringing the bell. + +“I hope I’ve not kept you waiting,” said Phineas. + +“Not at all,” said Lady Laura. “I do not know why we are in such a +hurry. And how many do you say it will be, Mr. Finn?” + +“Seventeen, I suppose,” said Phineas. + +“More likely twenty-two,” said Mr. Bonteen. “There is Colcleugh so +ill they can’t possibly bring him up, and young Rochester is at +Vienna, and Gunning is sulking about something, and Moody has lost +his eldest son. By George! they pressed him to come up, although +Frank Moody won’t be buried till Friday.” + +“I don’t believe it,” said Lord Brentford. + +“You ask some of the Carlton fellows, and they’ll own it.” + +“If I’d lost every relation I had in the world,” said Fitzgibbon, +“I’d vote on such a question as this. Staying away won’t bring poor +Frank Moody back to life.” + +“But there’s a decency in these matters, is there not, Mr. +Fitzgibbon?” said Lady Laura. + +“I thought they had thrown all that kind of thing overboard long +ago,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “It would be better that they should have +no veil, than squabble about the thickness of it.” + +Then dinner was announced. The Earl walked off with Miss Fitzgibbon, +Barrington Erle took Mrs. Bonteen, and Mr. Fitzgibbon took Lady +Laura. + +“I’ll bet four pounds to two it’s over nineteen,” said Mr. Bonteen, +as he passed through the drawing-room door. The remark seemed to have +been addressed to Mr. Kennedy, and Phineas therefore made no reply. + +“I daresay it will,” said Kennedy, “but I never bet.” + +“But you vote--sometimes, I hope,” said Bonteen. + +“Sometimes,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“I think he is the most odious man that ever I set my eyes on,” said +Phineas to himself as he followed Mr. Kennedy into the dining-room. +He had observed that Mr. Kennedy had been standing very near to Lady +Laura in the drawing-room, and that Lady Laura had said a few words +to him. He was more determined than ever that he would hate Mr. +Kennedy, and would probably have been moody and unhappy throughout +the whole dinner had not Lady Laura called him to a chair at her left +hand. It was very generous of her; and the more so, as Mr. Kennedy +had, in a half-hesitating manner, prepared to seat himself in that +very place. As it was, Phineas and Mr. Kennedy were neighbours, but +Phineas had the place of honour. + +“I suppose you will not speak during the debate?” said Lady Laura. + +“Who? I? Certainly not. In the first place, I could not get a +hearing, and, in the next place, I should not think of commencing on +such an occasion. I do not know that I shall ever speak at all.” + +“Indeed you will. You are just the sort of man who will succeed with +the House. What I doubt is, whether you will do as well in office.” + +“I wish I might have the chance.” + +“Of course you can have the chance if you try for it. Beginning so +early, and being on the right side,--and, if you will allow me to say +so, among the right set,--there can be no doubt that you may take +office if you will. But I am not sure that you will be tractable. You +cannot begin, you know, by being Prime Minister.” + +“I have seen enough to realise that already,” said Phineas. + +“If you will only keep that little fact steadily before your eyes, +there is nothing you may not reach in official life. But Pitt was +Prime Minister at four-and-twenty, and that precedent has ruined half +our young politicians.” + +“It has not affected me, Lady Laura.” + +“As far as I can see, there is no great difficulty in government. A +man must learn to have words at command when he is on his legs in +the House of Commons, in the same way as he would if he were talking +to his own servants. He must keep his temper; and he must be very +patient. As far as I have seen Cabinet Ministers, they are not more +clever than other people.” + +“I think there are generally one or two men of ability in the +Cabinet.” + +“Yes, of fair ability. Mr. Mildmay is a good specimen. There is not, +and never was, anything brilliant in him. He is not eloquent, nor, +as far as I am aware, did he ever create anything. But he has always +been a steady, honest, persevering man, and circumstances have made +politics come easy to him.” + +“Think of the momentous questions which he has been called upon to +decide,” said Phineas. + +“Every question so handled by him has been decided rightly according +to his own party, and wrongly according to the party opposite. A +political leader is so sure of support and so sure of attack, that +it is hardly necessary for him to be even anxious to be right. For +the country’s sake, he should have officials under him who know the +routine of business.” + +“You think very badly then of politics as a profession.” + +“No; I think of them very highly. It must be better to deal with +the repeal of laws than the defending of criminals. But all this is +papa’s wisdom, not mine. Papa has never been in the Cabinet yet, and +therefore of course he is a little caustic.” + +“I think he was quite right,” said Barrington Erle stoutly. He spoke +so stoutly that everybody at the table listened to him. + +“I don’t exactly see the necessity for such internecine war just at +present,” said Lord Brentford. + +“I must say I do,” said the other. “Lord de Terrier took office +knowing that he was in a minority. We had a fair majority of nearly +thirty when he came in.” + +“Then how very soft you must have been to go out,” said Miss +Fitzgibbon. + +“Not in the least soft,” continued Barrington Erle. “We could not +command our men, and were bound to go out. For aught we knew, some +score of them might have chosen to support Lord de Terrier, and then +we should have owned ourselves beaten for the time.” + +“You were beaten,--hollow,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. + +“Then why did Lord de Terrier dissolve?” + +“A Prime Minister is quite right to dissolve in such a position,” +said Lord Brentford. “He must do so for the Queen’s sake. It is his +only chance.” + +“Just so. It is, as you say, his only chance, and it is his right. +His very possession of power will give him near a score of votes, and +if he thinks that he has a chance, let him try it. We maintain that +he had no chance, and that he must have known that he had none;--that +if he could not get on with the late House, he certainly could not +get on with a new House. We let him have his own way as far as we +could in February. We had failed last summer, and if he could get +along he was welcome. But he could not get along.” + +“I must say I think he was right to dissolve,” said Lady Laura. + +“And we are right to force the consequences upon him as quickly as +we can. He practically lost nine seats by his dissolution. Look at +Loughshane.” + +“Yes; look at Loughshane,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “The country at any +rate has gained something there.” + +“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Mr. Finn,” said the +Earl. + +“What on earth is to become of poor George?” said Mr. Fitzgibbon. “I +wonder whether any one knows where he is. George wasn’t a bad sort of +fellow.” + +“Roby used to think that he was a very bad fellow,” said Mr. Bonteen. +“Roby used to swear that it was hopeless trying to catch him.” It may +be as well to explain that Mr. Roby was a Conservative gentleman of +great fame who had for years acted as Whip under Mr. Daubeny, and who +now filled the high office of Patronage Secretary to the Treasury. “I +believe in my heart,” continued Mr. Bonteen, “that Roby is rejoiced +that poor George Morris should be out in the cold.” + +“If seats were halveable, he should share mine, for the sake of auld +lang syne,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon. + +“But not to-morrow night,” said Barrington Erle; “the division +to-morrow will be a thing not to be joked with. Upon my word I think +they’re right about old Moody. All private considerations should give +way. And as for Gunning, I’d have him up or I’d know the reason why.” + +“And shall we have no defaulters, Barrington?” asked Lady Laura. + +“I’m not going to boast, but I don’t know of one for whom we need +blush. Sir Everard Powell is so bad with gout that he can’t even bear +any one to look at him, but Ratler says that he’ll bring him up.” Mr. +Ratler was in those days the Whip on the liberal side of the House. + +“Unfortunate wretch!” said Miss Fitzgibbon. + +“The worst of it is that he screams in his paroxysms,” said Mr. +Bonteen. + +“And you mean to say that you’ll take him into the lobby,” said Lady +Laura. + +“Undoubtedly,” said Barrington Erle. “Why not? He has no business +with a seat if he can’t vote. But Sir Everard is a good man, and +he’ll be there if laudanum and bath-chair make it possible.” + +The same kind of conversation went on during the whole of dinner, and +became, if anything, more animated when the three ladies had left the +room. Mr. Kennedy made but one remark, and then he observed that as +far as he could see a majority of nineteen would be as serviceable +as a majority of twenty. This he said in a very mild voice, and in +a tone that was intended to be expressive of doubt; but in spite of +his humility Barrington Erle flew at him almost savagely,--as though +a liberal member of the House of Commons was disgraced by so mean a +spirit; and Phineas found himself despising the man for his want of +zeal. + +“If we are to beat them, let us beat them well,” said Phineas. + +“Let there be no doubt about it,” said Barrington Erle. + +“I should like to see every man with a seat polled,” said Bonteen. + +“Poor Sir Everard!” said Lord Brentford. “It will kill him, no doubt, +but I suppose the seat is safe.” + +“Oh, yes; Llanwrwsth is quite safe,” said Barrington, in his +eagerness omitting to catch Lord Brentford’s grim joke. + +Phineas went up into the drawing-room for a few minutes after dinner, +and was eagerly desirous of saying a few more words,--he knew not +what words,--to Lady Laura. Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Bonteen had left +the dining-room first, and Phineas again found Mr. Kennedy standing +close to Lady Laura’s shoulder. Could it be possible that there was +anything in it? Mr. Kennedy was an unmarried man, with an immense +fortune, a magnificent place, a seat in Parliament, and was not +perhaps above forty years of age. There could be no reason why he +should not ask Lady Laura to be his wife,--except, indeed, that he +did not seem to have sufficient words at command to ask anybody for +anything. But could it be that such a woman as Lady Laura could +accept such a man as Mr. Kennedy because of his wealth, and because +of his fine place,--a man who had not a word to throw to a dog, who +did not seem to be possessed of an idea, who hardly looked like a +gentleman;--so Phineas told himself. But in truth Mr. Kennedy, though +he was a plain, unattractive man, with nothing in his personal +appearance to call for remark, was not unlike a gentleman in his +usual demeanour. Phineas himself, it may be here said, was six feet +high, and very handsome, with bright blue eyes, and brown wavy hair, +and light silken beard. Mrs. Low had told her husband more than once +that he was much too handsome to do any good. Mr. Low, however, had +replied that young Finn had never shown himself to be conscious of +his own personal advantages. “He’ll learn it soon enough,” said Mrs. +Low. “Some woman will tell him, and then he’ll be spoilt.” I do not +think that Phineas depended much as yet on his own good looks, but +he felt that Mr. Kennedy ought to be despised by such a one as Lady +Laura Standish, because his looks were not good. And she must despise +him! It could not be that a woman so full of life should be willing +to put up with a man who absolutely seemed to have no life within +him. And yet why was he there, and why was he allowed to hang about +just over her shoulders? Phineas Finn began to feel himself to be an +injured man. + +But Lady Laura had the power of dispelling instantly this sense of +injury. She had done it effectually in the dining-room by calling him +to the seat by her side, to the express exclusion of the millionaire, +and she did it again now by walking away from Mr. Kennedy to the spot +on which Phineas had placed himself somewhat sulkily. + +“Of course you’ll be at the club on Friday morning after the +division,” she said. + +“No doubt.” + +“When you leave it, come and tell me what are your impressions, and +what you think of Mr. Daubeny’s speech. There’ll be nothing done in +the House before four, and you’ll be able to run up to me.” + +“Certainly I will.” + +“I have asked Mr. Kennedy to come, and Mr. Fitzgibbon. I am so +anxious about it, that I want to hear what different people say. +You know, perhaps, that papa is to be in the Cabinet if there’s a +change.” + +“Is he indeed?” + +“Oh yes;--and you’ll come up?” + +“Of course I will. Do you expect to hear much of an opinion from Mr. +Kennedy?” + +“Yes, I do. You don’t quite know Mr. Kennedy yet. And you must +remember that he will say more to me than he will to you. He’s +not quick, you know, as you are, and he has no enthusiasm on any +subject;--but he has opinions, and sound opinions too.” Phineas +felt that Lady Laura was in a slight degree scolding him for the +disrespectful manner in which he had spoken of Mr. Kennedy; and he +felt also that he had committed himself,--that he had shown himself +to be sore, and that she had seen and understood his soreness. + +“The truth is I do not know him,” said he, trying to correct his +blunder. + +“No;--not as yet. But I hope that you may some day, as he is one of +those men who are both useful and estimable.” + +“I do not know that I can use him,” said Phineas; “but if you wish +it, I will endeavour to esteem him.” + +“I wish you to do both;--but that will all come in due time. I think +it probable that in the early autumn there will be a great gathering +of the real Whig Liberals at Loughlinter;--of those, I mean, who have +their heart in it, and are at the same time gentlemen. If it is so, +I should be sorry that you should not be there. You need not mention +it, but Mr. Kennedy has just said a word about it to papa, and a +word from him always means so much! Well;--good-night; and mind you +come up on Friday. You are going to the club, now, of course. I envy +you men your clubs more than I do the House;--though I feel that +a woman’s life is only half a life, as she cannot have a seat in +Parliament.” + +Then Phineas went away, and walked down to Pall Mall with Laurence +Fitzgibbon. He would have preferred to take his walk alone, but he +could not get rid of his affectionate countryman. He wanted to think +over what had taken place during the evening; and, indeed, he did so +in spite of his friend’s conversation. Lady Laura, when she first saw +him after his return to London, had told him how anxious her father +was to congratulate him on his seat, but the Earl had not spoken a +word to him on the subject. The Earl had been courteous, as hosts +customarily are, but had been in no way specially kind to him. And +then Mr. Kennedy! As to going to Loughlinter, he would not do such a +thing,--not though the success of the liberal party were to depend on +it. He declared to himself that there were some things which a man +could not do. But although he was not altogether satisfied with what +had occurred in Portman Square, he felt as he walked down arm-in-arm +with Fitzgibbon that Mr. Low and Mr. Low’s counsels must be scattered +to the winds. He had thrown the die in consenting to stand for +Loughshane, and must stand the hazard of the cast. + +“Bedad, Phin, my boy, I don’t think you’re listening to me at all,” +said Laurence Fitzgibbon. + +“I’m listening to every word you say,” said Phineas. + +“And if I have to go down to the ould country again this session, +you’ll go with me?” + +“If I can I will.” + +“That’s my boy! And it’s I that hope you’ll have the chance. What’s +the good of turning these fellows out if one isn’t to get something +for one’s trouble?” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Mr. and Mrs. Bunce + + +It was three o’clock on the Thursday night before Mr. Daubeny’s +speech was finished. I do not think that there was any truth in the +allegation made at the time, that he continued on his legs an hour +longer than the necessities of his speech required, in order that +five or six very ancient Whigs might be wearied out and shrink to +their beds. Let a Whig have been ever so ancient and ever so weary, +he would not have been allowed to depart from Westminster Hall that +night. Sir Everard Powell was there in his bath-chair at twelve, +with a doctor on one side of him and a friend on the other, in some +purlieu of the House, and did his duty like a fine old Briton as he +was. That speech of Mr. Daubeny’s will never be forgotten by any one +who heard it. Its studied bitterness had perhaps never been equalled, +and yet not a word was uttered for the saying of which he could be +accused of going beyond the limits of parliamentary antagonism. It is +true that personalities could not have been closer, that accusations +of political dishonesty and of almost worse than political cowardice +and falsehood could not have been clearer, that no words in the +language could have attributed meaner motives or more unscrupulous +conduct. But, nevertheless, Mr. Daubeny in all that he said was +parliamentary, and showed himself to be a gladiator thoroughly well +trained for the arena in which he had descended to the combat. His +arrows were poisoned, and his lance was barbed, and his shot was +heated red,--because such things are allowed. He did not poison +his enemies’ wells or use Greek fire, because those things are not +allowed. He knew exactly the rules of the combat. Mr. Mildmay sat and +heard him without once raising his hat from his brow, or speaking +a word to his neighbour. Men on both sides of the House said that +Mr. Mildmay suffered terribly; but as Mr. Mildmay uttered no word of +complaint to any one, and was quite ready to take Mr. Daubeny by the +hand the next time they met in company, I do not know that any one +was able to form a true idea of Mr. Mildmay’s feelings. Mr. Mildmay +was an impassive man who rarely spoke of his own feelings, and no +doubt sat with his hat low down over his eyes in order that no +man might judge of them on that occasion by the impression on his +features. “If he could have left off half an hour earlier it would +have been perfect as an attack,” said Barrington Erle in criticising +Mr. Daubeny’s speech, “but he allowed himself to sink into +comparative weakness, and the glory of it was over before the +end.”--Then came the division. The Liberals had 333 votes to 314 for +the Conservatives, and therefore counted a majority of 19. It was +said that so large a number of members had never before voted at any +division. + +“I own I’m disappointed,” said Barrington Erle to Mr. Ratler. + +“I thought there would be twenty,” said Mr. Ratler. “I never went +beyond that. I knew they would have old Moody up, but I thought +Gunning would have been too hard for them.” + +“They say they’ve promised them both peerages.” + +“Yes;--if they remain in. But they know they’re going out.” + +“They must go, with such a majority against them,” said Barrington +Erle. + +“Of course they must,” said Mr. Ratler. “Lord de Terrier wants +nothing better, but it is rather hard upon poor Daubeny. I never saw +such an unfortunate old Tantalus.” + +“He gets a good drop of real water now and again, and I don’t pity +him in the least. He’s clever of course, and has made his own way, +but I’ve always a feeling that he has no business where he is. +I suppose we shall know all about it at Brooks’s by one o’clock +to-morrow.” + +Phineas, though it had been past five before he went to bed,--for +there had been much triumphant talking to be done among liberal +members after the division,--was up at his breakfast at Mrs. Bunce’s +lodgings by nine. There was a matter which he was called upon to +settle immediately in which Mrs. Bunce herself was much interested, +and respecting which he had promised to give an answer on this very +morning. A set of very dingy chambers up two pairs of stairs at No. +9, Old Square, Lincoln’s Inn, to which Mr. Low had recommended him to +transfer himself and all his belongings, were waiting his occupation, +should he resolve upon occupying them. If he intended to commence +operations as a barrister, it would be necessary that he should have +chambers and a clerk; and before he had left Mr. Low’s house on +Sunday evening he had almost given that gentleman authority to secure +for him these rooms at No. 9. “Whether you remain in Parliament or +no, you must make a beginning,” Mr. Low had said; “and how are you +even to pretend to begin if you don’t have chambers?” Mr. Low hoped +that he might be able to wean Phineas away from his Parliament +bauble;--that he might induce the young barrister to give up his +madness, if not this session or the next, at any rate before a third +year had commenced. Mr. Low was a persistent man, liking very much +when he did like, and loving very strongly when he did love. He would +have many a tug for Phineas Finn before he would allow that false +Westminster Satan to carry off the prey as altogether his own. If he +could only get Phineas into the dingy chambers he might do much! + +But Phineas had now become so imbued with the atmosphere of politics, +had been so breathed upon by Lady Laura and Barrington Erle, that +he could no longer endure the thought of any other life than that +of a life spent among the lobbies. A desire to help to beat the +Conservatives had fastened on his very soul, and almost made Mr. Low +odious in his eyes. He was afraid of Mr. Low, and for the nonce would +not go to him any more;--but he must see the porter at Lincoln’s Inn, +he must write a line to Mr. Low, and he must tell Mrs. Bunce that for +the present he would still keep on her rooms. His letter to Mr. Low +was as follows:-- + + + Great Marlborough Street, May, 186--. + + MY DEAR LOW, + + I have made up my mind against taking the chambers, and am + now off to the Inn to say that I shall not want them. Of + course, I know what you will think of me, and it is very + grievous to me to have to bear the hard judgment of a man + whose opinion I value so highly; but, in the teeth of your + terribly strong arguments, I think that there is something + to be said on my side of the question. This seat in + Parliament has come in my way by chance, and I think it + would be pusillanimous in me to reject it, feeling, as I + do, that a seat in Parliament confers very great honour. I + am, too, very fond of politics, and regard legislation as + the finest profession going. Had I any one dependent on + me, I probably might not be justified in following the + bent of my inclination. But I am all alone in the world, + and therefore have a right to make the attempt. If, after + a trial of one or two sessions, I should fail in that + which I am attempting, it will not even then be too late + to go back to the better way. I can assure you that at any + rate it is not my intention to be idle. + + I know very well how you will fret and fume over what I + say, and how utterly I shall fail in bringing you round to + my way of thinking; but as I must write to tell you of my + decision, I cannot refrain from defending myself to the + best of my ability. + + Yours always faithfully, + + PHINEAS FINN. + + +Mr. Low received this letter at his chambers, and when he had read +it, he simply pressed his lips closely together, placed the sheet +of paper back in its envelope, and put it into a drawer at his left +hand. Having done this, he went on with what work he had before him, +as though his friend’s decision were a matter of no consequence to +him. As far as he was concerned the thing was done, and there should +be an end of it. So he told himself; but nevertheless his mind was +full of it all day; and, though he wrote not a word of answer to +Phineas, he made a reply within his own mind to every one of the +arguments used in the letter. “Great honour! How can there be honour +in what comes, as he says, by chance? He hasn’t sense enough to +understand that the honour comes from the mode of winning it, and +from the mode of wearing it; and that the very fact of his being +member for Loughshane at this instant simply proves that Loughshane +should have had no privilege to return a member! No one dependent on +him! Are not his father and his mother and his sisters dependent on +him as long as he must eat their bread till he can earn bread of his +own? He will never earn bread of his own. He will always be eating +bread that others have earned.” In this way, before the day was +over, Mr. Low became very angry, and swore to himself that he would +have nothing more to say to Phineas Finn. But yet he found himself +creating plans for encountering and conquering the parliamentary +fiend who was at present so cruelly potent with his pupil. It was not +till the third evening that he told his wife that Finn had made up +his mind not to take chambers. “Then I would have nothing more to say +to him,” said Mrs. Low, savagely. “For the present I can have nothing +more to say to him.” “But neither now nor ever,” said Mrs. Low, with +great emphasis; “he has been false to you.” “No,” said Mr. Low, who +was a man thoroughly and thoughtfully just at all points; “he has not +been false to me. He has always meant what he has said, when he was +saying it. But he is weak and blind, and flies like a moth to the +candle; one pities the poor moth, and would save him a stump of his +wing if it be possible.” + +Phineas, when he had written his letter to Mr. Low, started off for +Lincoln’s Inn, making his way through the well-known dreary streets +of Soho, and through St. Giles’s, to Long Acre. He knew every corner +well, for he had walked the same road almost daily for the last three +years. He had conceived a liking for the route, which he might easily +have changed without much addition to the distance, by passing +through Oxford Street and Holborn; but there was an air of business +on which he prided himself in going by the most direct passage, and +he declared to himself very often that things dreary and dingy to the +eye might be good in themselves. Lincoln’s Inn itself is dingy, and +the Law Courts therein are perhaps the meanest in which Equity ever +disclosed herself. Mr. Low’s three rooms in the Old Square, each of +them brown with the binding of law books and with the dust collected +on law papers, and with furniture that had been brown always, and had +become browner with years, were perhaps as unattractive to the eye of +a young pupil as any rooms which were ever entered. And the study of +the Chancery law itself is not an alluring pursuit till the mind has +come to have some insight into the beauty of its ultimate object. +Phineas, during his three years’ course of reasoning on these things, +had taught himself to believe that things ugly on the outside might +be very beautiful within; and had therefore come to prefer crossing +Poland Street and Soho Square, and so continuing his travels by the +Seven Dials and Long Acre. His morning walk was of a piece with his +morning studies, and he took pleasure in the gloom of both. But now +the taste of his palate had been already changed by the glare of +the lamps in and about palatial Westminster, and he found that St. +Giles’s was disagreeable. The ways about Pall Mall and across the +Park to Parliament Street, or to the Treasury, were much pleasanter, +and the new offices in Downing Street, already half built, absorbed +all that interest which he had hitherto been able to take in +the suggested but uncommenced erection of new Law Courts in the +neighbourhood of Lincoln’s Inn. As he made his way to the porter’s +lodge under the great gateway of Lincoln’s Inn, he told himself that +he was glad that he had escaped, at any rate for a while, from a life +so dull and dreary. If he could only sit in chambers at the Treasury +instead of chambers in that old court, how much pleasanter it would +be! After all, as regarded that question of income, it might well be +that the Treasury chambers should be the more remunerative, and the +more quickly remunerative, of the two. And, as he thought, Lady Laura +might be compatible with the Treasury chambers and Parliament, but +could not possibly be made compatible with Old Square, Lincoln’s Inn. + +But nevertheless there came upon him a feeling of sorrow when the +old man at the lodge seemed to be rather glad than otherwise that +he did not want the chambers. “Then Mr. Green can have them,” said +the porter; “that’ll be good news for Mr. Green. I don’t know what +the gen’lemen ’ll do for chambers if things goes on as they’re +going.” Mr. Green was welcome to the chambers as far as Phineas was +concerned; but Phineas felt nevertheless a certain amount of regret +that he should have been compelled to abandon a thing which was +regarded both by the porter and by Mr. Green as being so desirable. +He had however written his letter to Mr. Low, and made his promise to +Barrington Erle, and was bound to Lady Laura Standish; and he walked +out through the old gateway into Chancery Lane, resolving that he +would not even visit Lincoln’s Inn again for a year. There were +certain books,--law books,--which he would read at such intervals of +leisure as politics might give him; but within the precincts of the +Inns of Court he would not again put his foot for twelve months, let +learned pundits of the law,--such for instance as Mr. and Mrs. +Low,--say what they might. + +He had told Mrs. Bunce, before he left his home after breakfast, that +he should for the present remain under her roof. She had been much +gratified, not simply because lodgings in Great Marlborough Street +are less readily let than chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, but also because +it was a great honour to her to have a member of Parliament in her +house. Members of Parliament are not so common about Oxford Street as +they are in the neighbourhood of Pall Mall and St. James’s Square. +But Mr. Bunce, when he came home to his dinner, did not join as +heartily as he should have done in his wife’s rejoicing. Mr. Bunce +was in the employment of certain copying law-stationers in Carey +Street, and had a strong belief in the law as a profession;--but he +had none whatever in the House of Commons. “And he’s given up going +into chambers?” said Mr. Bunce to his wife. + +“Given it up altogether for the present,” said Mrs. Bunce. + +“And he don’t mean to have no clerk?” said Mr. Bunce. + +“Not unless it is for his Parliament work.” + +“There ain’t no clerks wanted for that, and what’s worse, there ain’t +no fees to pay ’em. I’ll tell you what it is, Jane;--if you don’t +look sharp there won’t be nothing to pay you before long.” + +“And he in Parliament, Jacob!” + +“There ain’t no salary for being in Parliament. There are scores of +them Parliament gents ain’t got so much as’ll pay their dinners for +’em. And then if anybody does trust ’em, there’s no getting at ’em +to make ’em pay as there is at other folk.” + +“I don’t know that our Mr. Phineas will ever be like that, Jacob.” + +“That’s gammon, Jane. That’s the way as women gets themselves took in +always. Our Mr. Phineas! Why should our Mr. Phineas be better than +anybody else?” + +“He’s always acted handsome, Jacob.” + +“There was one time he could not pay his lodgings for wellnigh nine +months, till his governor come down with the money. I don’t know +whether that was handsome. It knocked me about terrible, I know.” + +“He always meant honest, Jacob.” + +“I don’t know that I care much for a man’s meaning when he runs +short of money. How is he going to see his way, with his seat in +Parliament, and this giving up of his profession? He owes us near a +quarter now.” + +“He paid me two months this morning, Jacob; so he don’t owe a +farthing.” + +“Very well;--so much the better for us. I shall just have a few words +with Mr. Low, and see what he says to it. For myself I don’t think +half so much of Parliament folk as some do. They’re for promising +everything before they’s elected; but not one in twenty of ’em is as +good as his word when he gets there.” + +Mr. Bunce was a copying journeyman, who spent ten hours a day in +Carey Street with a pen between his fingers; and after that he would +often spend two or three hours of the night with a pen between his +fingers in Marlborough Street. He was a thoroughly hard-working man, +doing pretty well in the world, for he had a good house over his +head, and always could find raiment and bread for his wife and +eight children; but, nevertheless, he was an unhappy man because he +suffered from political grievances, or, I should more correctly say, +that his grievances were semi-political and semi-social. He had no +vote, not being himself the tenant of the house in Great Marlborough +Street. The tenant was a tailor who occupied the shop, whereas Bunce +occupied the whole of the remainder of the premises. He was a lodger, +and lodgers were not as yet trusted with the franchise. And he had +ideas, which he himself admitted to be very raw, as to the injustice +of the manner in which he was paid for his work. So much a folio, +without reference to the way in which his work was done, without +regard to the success of his work, with no questions asked of +himself, was, as he thought, no proper way of remunerating a man for +his labours. He had long since joined a Trade Union, and for two +years past had paid a subscription of a shilling a week towards its +funds. He longed to be doing some battle against his superiors, and +to be putting himself in opposition to his employers;--not that he +objected personally to Messrs. Foolscap, Margin, and Vellum, who +always made much of him as a useful man;--but because some such +antagonism would be manly, and the fighting of some battle would +be the right thing to do. “If Labour don’t mean to go to the wall +himself,” Bunce would say to his wife, “Labour must look alive, and +put somebody else there.” + +Mrs. Bunce was a comfortable motherly woman, who loved her husband +but hated politics. As he had an aversion to his superiors in the +world because they were superiors, so had she a liking for them for +the same reason. She despised people poorer than herself, and thought +it a fair subject for boasting that her children always had meat for +dinner. If it was ever so small a morsel, she took care that they had +it, in order that the boast might be maintained. The world had once +or twice been almost too much for her,--when, for instance, her +husband had been ill; and again, to tell the truth, for the last +three months of that long period in which Phineas had omitted to pay +his bills; but she had kept a fine brave heart during those troubles, +and could honestly swear that the children always had a bit of +meat, though she herself had been occasionally without it for days +together. At such times she would be more than ordinarily meek to +Mr. Margin, and especially courteous to the old lady who lodged in +her first-floor drawing-room,--for Phineas lived up two pairs of +stairs,--and she would excuse such servility by declaring that there +was no knowing how soon she might want assistance. But her husband, +in such emergencies, would become furious and quarrelsome, and would +declare that Labour was going to the wall, and that something very +strong must be done at once. That shilling which Bunce paid weekly to +the Union she regarded as being absolutely thrown away,--as much so +as though he cast it weekly into the Thames. And she had told him so, +over and over again, making heart-piercing allusions to the eight +children and to the bit of meat. He would always endeavour to explain +to her that there was no other way under the sun for keeping Labour +from being sent to the wall;--but he would do so hopelessly and +altogether ineffectually, and she had come to regard him as a lunatic +to the extent of that one weekly shilling. + +She had a woman’s instinctive partiality for comeliness in a man, and +was very fond of Phineas Finn because he was handsome. And now she +was very proud of him because he was a member of Parliament. She +had heard,--from her husband, who had told her the fact with much +disgust,--that the sons of Dukes and Earls go into Parliament, and +she liked to think that the fine young man to whom she talked more +or less every day should sit with the sons of Dukes and Earls. When +Phineas had really brought distress upon her by owing her some thirty +or forty pounds, she could never bring herself to be angry with +him,--because he was handsome and because he dined out with Lords. +And she had triumphed greatly over her husband, who had desired to be +severe upon his aristocratic debtor, when the money had all been paid +in a lump. + +“I don’t know that he’s any great catch,” Bunce had said, when the +prospect of their lodger’s departure had been debated between them. + +“Jacob,” said his wife, “I don’t think you feel it when you’ve got +people respectable about you.” + +“The only respectable man I know,” said Jacob, “is the man as earns +his bread; and Mr. Finn, as I take it, is a long way from that yet.” + +Phineas returned to his lodgings before he went down to his club, and +again told Mrs. Bunce that he had altogether made up his mind about +the chambers. “If you’ll keep me I shall stay here for the first +session I daresay.” + +“Of course we shall be only too proud, Mr. Finn; and though it mayn’t +perhaps be quite the place for a member of Parliament--” + +“But I think it is quite the place.” + +“It’s very good of you to say so, Mr. Finn, and we’ll do our very +best to make you comfortable. Respectable we are, I may say; and +though Bunce is a bit rough sometimes--” + +“Never to me, Mrs. Bunce.” + +“But he is rough,--and silly, too, with his radical nonsense, paying +a shilling a week to a nasty Union just for nothing. Still he means +well, and there ain’t a man who works harder for his wife and +children;--that I will say of him. And if he do talk politics--” + +“But I like a man to talk politics, Mrs. Bunce.” + +“For a gentleman in Parliament of course it’s proper; but I never +could see what good it could do to a law-stationer; and when he talks +of Labour going to the wall, I always ask him whether he didn’t get +his wages regular last Saturday. But, Lord love you, Mr. Finn, when a +man as is a journeyman has took up politics and joined a Trade Union, +he ain’t no better than a milestone for his wife to take and talk to +him.” + +After that Phineas went down to the Reform Club, and made one of +those who were buzzing there in little crowds and uttering their +prophecies as to future events. Lord de Terrier was to go out. That +was certain. Whether Mr. Mildmay was to come in was uncertain. That +he would go to Windsor to-morrow morning was not to be doubted; but +it was thought very probable that he might plead his age, and decline +to undertake the responsibility of forming a Ministry. + +“And what then?” said Phineas to his friend Fitzgibbon. + +“Why, then there will be a choice out of three. There is the Duke, +who is the most incompetent man in England; there is Monk, who is the +most unfit; and there is Gresham, who is the most unpopular. I can’t +conceive it possible to find a worse Prime Minister than either of +the three;--but the country affords no other.” + +“And which would Mildmay name?” + +“All of them,--one after the other, so as to make the embarrassment +the greater.” That was Mr. Fitzgibbon’s description of the crisis; +but then it was understood that Mr. Fitzgibbon was given to +romancing. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The News about Mr. Mildmay and Sir Everard + + +Fitzgibbon and Phineas started together from Pall Mall for Portman +Square,--as both of them had promised to call on Lady Laura,--but +Fitzgibbon turned in at Brooks’s as they walked up St. James’s +Square, and Phineas went on by himself in a cab. “You should belong +here,” said Fitzgibbon as his friend entered the cab, and Phineas +immediately began to feel that he would have done nothing till he +could get into Brooks’s. It might be very well to begin by talking +politics at the Reform Club. Such talking had procured for him his +seat at Loughshane. But that was done now, and something more than +talking was wanted for any further progress. Nothing, as he told +himself, of political import was managed at the Reform Club. No +influence from thence was ever brought to bear upon the adjustment of +places under the Government, or upon the arrangement of cabinets. It +might be very well to count votes at the Reform Club; but after the +votes had been counted,--had been counted successfully,--Brooks’s was +the place, as Phineas believed, to learn at the earliest moment what +would be the exact result of the success. He must get into Brooks’s, +if it might be possible for him. Fitzgibbon was not exactly the man +to propose him. Perhaps the Earl of Brentford would do it. + +Lady Laura was at home, and with her was sitting--Mr. Kennedy. +Phineas had intended to be triumphant as he entered Lady Laura’s +room. He was there with the express purpose of triumphing in the +success of their great party, and of singing a pleasant paean in +conjunction with Lady Laura. But his trumpet was put out of tune at +once when he saw Mr. Kennedy. He said hardly a word as he gave his +hand to Lady Laura,--and then afterwards to Mr. Kennedy, who chose +to greet him with this show of cordiality. + +“I hope you are satisfied, Mr. Finn,” said Lady Laura, laughing. + +“Oh yes.” + +“And is that all? I thought to have found your joy quite +irrepressible.” + +“A bottle of soda-water, though it is a very lively thing when +opened, won’t maintain its vivacity beyond a certain period, Lady +Laura.” + +“And you have had your gas let off already?” + +“Well,--yes; at any rate, the sputtering part of it. Nineteen is very +well, but the question is whether we might not have had twenty-one.” + +“Mr. Kennedy has just been saying that not a single available vote +has been missed on our side. He has just come from Brooks’s, and that +seems to be what they say there.” + +So Mr. Kennedy also was a member of Brooks’s! At the Reform Club +there certainly had been an idea that the number might have been +swelled to twenty-one; but then, as Phineas began to understand, +nothing was correctly known at the Reform Club. For an accurate +appreciation of the political balance of the day, you must go to +Brooks’s. + +“Mr. Kennedy must of course be right,” said Phineas. “I don’t +belong to Brooks’s myself. But I was only joking, Lady Laura. There +is, I suppose, no doubt that Lord de Terrier is out, and that is +everything.” + +“He has probably tendered his resignation,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“That is the same thing,” said Phineas, roughly. + +“Not exactly,” said Lady Laura. “Should there be any difficulty about +Mr. Mildmay, he might, at the Queen’s request, make another attempt.” + +“With a majority of nineteen against him!” said Phineas. “Surely Mr. +Mildmay is not the only man in the country. There is the Duke, and +there is Mr. Gresham,--and there is Mr. Monk.” Phineas had at his +tongue’s end all the lesson that he had been able to learn at the +Reform Club. + +“I should hardly think the Duke would venture,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“Nothing venture, nothing have,” said Phineas. “It is all very well +to say that the Duke is incompetent, but I do not know that anything +very wonderful is required in the way of genius. The Duke has held +his own in both Houses successfully, and he is both honest and +popular. I quite agree that a Prime Minister at the present day +should be commonly honest, and more than commonly popular.” + +“So you are all for the Duke, are you?” said Lady Laura, again +smiling as she spoke to him. + +“Certainly;--if we are deserted by Mr. Mildmay. Don’t you think so?” + +“I don’t find it quite so easy to make up my mind as you do. I am +inclined to think that Mr. Mildmay will form a government; and as +long as there is that prospect, I need hardly commit myself to an +opinion as to his probable successor.” Then the objectionable Mr. +Kennedy took his leave, and Phineas was left alone with Lady Laura. + +“It is glorious;--is it not?” he began, as soon as he found the field +to be open for himself and his own manoeuvring. But he was very +young, and had not as yet learned the manner in which he might best +advance his cause with such a woman as Lady Laura Standish. He was +telling her too clearly that he could have no gratification in +talking with her unless he could be allowed to have her all to +himself. That might be very well if Lady Laura were in love with him, +but would hardly be the way to reduce her to that condition. + +“Mr. Finn,” said she, smiling as she spoke, “I am sure that you did +not mean it, but you were uncourteous to my friend Mr. Kennedy.” + +“Who? I? Was I? Upon my word, I didn’t intend to be uncourteous.” + +“If I had thought you had intended it, of course I could not tell you +of it. And now I take the liberty;--for it is a liberty--” + +“Oh no.” + +“Because I feel so anxious that you should do nothing to mar your +chances as a rising man.” + +“You are only too kind to me,--always.” + +“I know how clever you are, and how excellent are all your instincts; +but I see that you are a little impetuous. I wonder whether you will +be angry if I take upon myself the task of mentor.” + +“Nothing you could say would make me angry,--though you might make me +very unhappy.” + +“I will not do that if I can help it. A mentor ought to be very old, +you know, and I am infinitely older than you are.” + +“I should have thought it was the reverse;--indeed, I may say that I +know that it is,” said Phineas. + +“I am not talking of years. Years have very little to do with the +comparative ages of men and women. A woman at forty is quite old, +whereas a man at forty is young.” Phineas, remembering that he had +put down Mr. Kennedy’s age as forty in his own mind, frowned when +he heard this, and walked about the room in displeasure. “And +therefore,” continued Lady Laura, “I talk to you as though I were a +kind of grandmother.” + +“You shall be my great-grandmother if you will only be kind enough to +me to say what you really think.” + +“You must not then be so impetuous, and you must be a little +more careful to be civil to persons to whom you may not take any +particular fancy. Now Mr. Kennedy is a man who may be very useful to +you.” + +“I do not want Mr. Kennedy to be of use to me.” + +“That is what I call being impetuous,--being young,--being a boy. Why +should not Mr. Kennedy be of use to you as well as any one else? You +do not mean to conquer the world all by yourself.” + +“No;--but there is something mean to me in the expressed idea that +I should make use of any man,--and more especially of a man whom I +don’t like.” + +“And why do you not like him, Mr. Finn?” + +“Because he is one of my Dr. Fells.” + +“You don’t like him simply because he does not talk much. That +may be a good reason why you should not make of him an intimate +companion,--because you like talkative people; but it should be no +ground for dislike.” + +Phineas paused for a moment before he answered her, thinking whether +or not it would be well to ask her some question which might produce +from her a truth which he would not like to hear. Then he did ask it. +“And do you like him?” he said. + +She too paused, but only for a second. “Yes,--I think I may say that +I do like him.” + +“No more than that?” + +“Certainly no more than that;--but that I think is a great deal.” + +“I wonder what you would say if any one asked you whether you liked +me,” said Phineas, looking away from her through the window. + +“Just the same;--but without the doubt, if the person who questioned +me had any right to ask the question. There are not above one or two +who could have such a right.” + +“And I was wrong, of course, to ask it about Mr. Kennedy,” said +Phineas, looking out into the Square. + +“I did not say so.” + +“But I see you think it.” + +“You see nothing of the kind. I was quite willing to be asked the +question by you, and quite willing to answer it. Mr. Kennedy is a man +of great wealth.” + +“What can that have to do with it?” + +“Wait a moment, you impetuous Irish boy, and hear me out.” Phineas +liked being called an impetuous Irish boy, and came close to her, +sitting where he could look up into her face; and there came a smile +upon his own, and he was very handsome. “I say that he is a man of +great wealth,” continued Lady Laura; “and as wealth gives influence, +he is of great use,--politically,--to the party to which he belongs.” + +“Oh, politically!” + +“Am I to suppose you care nothing for politics? To such men, to men +who think as you think, who are to sit on the same benches with +yourself, and go into the same lobby and be seen at the same club, +it is your duty to be civil both for your own sake and for that of +the cause. It is for the hermits of society to indulge in personal +dislikings,--for men who have never been active and never mean to be +active. I had been telling Mr. Kennedy how much I thought of you,--as +a good Liberal.” + +“And I came in and spoilt it all.” + +“Yes, you did. You knocked down my little house, and I must build it +all up again.” + +“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady Laura.” + +“I shall. It will be a great deal of trouble,--a great deal, indeed; +but I shall take it. I mean you to be very intimate with Mr. Kennedy, +and to shoot his grouse, and to stalk his deer, and to help to +keep him in progress as a liberal member of Parliament. I am quite +prepared to admit, as a friend, that he would go back without some +such help.” + +“Oh;--I understand.” + +“I do not believe that you do understand at all, but I must endeavour +to make you do so by degrees. If you are to be my political pupil, +you must at any rate be obedient. The next time you meet Mr. Kennedy, +ask him his opinion instead of telling him your own. He has been in +Parliament twelve years, and he was a good deal older than you when +he began.” At this moment a side door was opened, and the red-haired, +red-bearded man whom Phineas had seen before entered the room. He +hesitated a moment, as though he were going to retreat again, and +then began to pull about the books and toys which lay on one of the +distant tables, as though he were in quest of some article. And he +would have retreated had not Lady Laura called to him. + +“Oswald,” she said, “let me introduce you to Mr. Finn. Mr. Finn, I do +not think you have ever met my brother, Lord Chiltern.” Then the two +young men bowed, and each of them muttered something. “Do not be in a +hurry, Oswald. You have nothing special to take you away. Here is Mr. +Finn come to tell us who are all the possible new Prime Ministers. He +is uncivil enough not to have named papa.” + +“My father is out of the question,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“Of course he is,” said Lady Laura, “but I may be allowed my little +joke.” + +“I suppose he will at any rate be in the Cabinet,” said Phineas. + +“I know nothing whatever about politics,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“I wish you did,” said his sister,--“with all my heart.” + +“I never did,--and I never shall, for all your wishing. It’s the +meanest trade going I think, and I’m sure it’s the most dishonest. +They talk of legs on the turf, and of course there are legs; but what +are they to the legs in the House? I don’t know whether you are in +Parliament, Mr. Finn.” + +“Yes, I am; but do not mind me.” + +“I beg your pardon. Of course there are honest men there, and no +doubt you are one of them.” + +“He is indifferent honest,--as yet,” said Lady Laura. + +“I was speaking of men who go into Parliament to look after +Government places,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“That is just what I’m doing,” said Phineas. “Why should not a man +serve the Crown? He has to work very hard for what he earns.” + +“I don’t believe that the most of them work at all. However, I beg +your pardon. I didn’t mean you in particular.” + +“Mr. Finn is such a thorough politician that he will never forgive +you,” said Lady Laura. + +“Yes, I will,” said Phineas, “and I’ll convert him some day. If he +does come into the House, Lady Laura, I suppose he’ll come on the +right side?” + +“I’ll never go into the House, as you call it,” said Lord Chiltern. +“But, I’ll tell you what; I shall be very happy if you’ll dine with +me to-morrow at Moroni’s. They give you a capital little dinner at +Moroni’s, and they’ve the best Château Yquem in London.” + +“Do,” said Lady Laura, in a whisper. “Oblige me.” + +Phineas was engaged to dine with one of the Vice-Chancellors on the +day named. He had never before dined at the house of this great law +luminary, whose acquaintance he had made through Mr. Low, and he had +thought a great deal of the occasion. Mrs. Freemantle had sent him +the invitation nearly a fortnight ago, and he understood there was to +be an elaborate dinner party. He did not know it for a fact, but he +was in hopes of meeting the expiring Lord Chancellor. He considered +it to be his duty never to throw away such a chance. He would in +all respects have preferred Mr. Freemantle’s dinner in Eaton Place, +dull and heavy though it might probably be, to the chance of Lord +Chiltern’s companions at Moroni’s. Whatever might be the faults of +our hero, he was not given to what is generally called dissipation +by the world at large,--by which the world means self-indulgence. He +cared not a brass farthing for Moroni’s Château Yquem, nor for the +wondrously studied repast which he would doubtless find prepared for +him at that celebrated establishment in St. James’s Street;--not a +farthing as compared with the chance of meeting so great a man as +Lord Moles. And Lord Chiltern’s friends might probably be just the +men whom he would not desire to know. But Lady Laura’s request +overrode everything with him. She had asked him to oblige her, and of +course he would do so. Had he been going to dine with the incoming +Prime Minister, he would have put off his engagement at her request. +He was not quick enough to make an answer without hesitation; but +after a moment’s pause he said he should be most happy to dine with +Lord Chiltern at Moroni’s. + +“That’s right; 7.30 sharp,--only I can tell you you won’t meet any +other members.” Then the servant announced more visitors, and Lord +Chiltern escaped out of the room before he was seen by the new +comers. These were Mrs. Bonteen and Laurence Fitzgibbon, and then Mr. +Bonteen,--and after them Mr. Ratler, the Whip, who was in a violent +hurry, and did not stay there a moment, and then Barrington Erle and +young Lord James Fitz-Howard, the youngest son of the Duke of St. +Bungay. In twenty or thirty minutes there was a gathering of liberal +political notabilities in Lady Laura’s drawing-room. There were two +great pieces of news by which they were all enthralled. Mr. Mildmay +would not be Prime Minister, and Sir Everard Powell was--dead. Of +course nothing quite positive could be known about Mr. Mildmay. He +was to be with the Queen at Windsor on the morrow at eleven o’clock, +and it was improbable that he would tell his mind to any one before +he told it to her Majesty. But there was no doubt that he had engaged +“the Duke,”--so he was called by Lord James,--to go down to Windsor +with him, that he might be in readiness if wanted. “I have learned +that at home,” said Lord James, who had just heard the news from his +sister, who had heard it from the Duchess. Lord James was delighted +with the importance given to him by his father’s coming journey. +From this, and from other equally well-known circumstances, it was +surmised that Mr. Mildmay would decline the task proposed to him. +This, nevertheless, was only a surmise,--whereas the fact with +reference to Sir Everard was fully substantiated. The gout had flown +to his stomach, and he was dead. “By ---- yes; as dead as a herring,” +said Mr. Ratler, who at that moment, however, was not within hearing +of either of the ladies present. And then he rubbed his hands, and +looked as though he were delighted. And he was delighted,--not +because his old friend Sir Everard was dead, but by the excitement +of the tragedy. “Having done so good a deed in his last moments,” +said Laurence Fitzgibbon, “we may take it for granted that he will +go straight to heaven.” “I hope there will be no crowner’s quest, +Ratler,” said Mr. Bonteen; “if there is I don’t know how you’ll +get out of it.” “I don’t see anything in it so horrible,” said +Mr. Ratler. “If a fellow dies leading his regiment we don’t think +anything of it. Sir Everard’s vote was of more service to his country +than anything that a colonel or a captain can do.” But nevertheless +I think that Mr. Ratler was somewhat in dread of future newspaper +paragraphs, should it be found necessary to summon a coroner’s +inquisition to sit upon poor Sir Everard. + +While this was going on Lady Laura took Phineas apart for a moment. +“I am so much obliged to you; I am indeed,” she said. + +“What nonsense!” + +“Never mind whether it’s nonsense or not;--but I am. I can’t explain +it all now, but I do so want you to know my brother. You may be of +the greatest service to him,--of the very greatest. He is not half so +bad as people say he is. In many ways he is very good,--very good. +And he is very clever.” + +“At any rate I will think and believe no ill of him.” + +“Just so;--do not believe evil of him,--not more evil than you see. I +am so anxious,--so very anxious to try to put him on his legs, and I +find it so difficult to get any connecting link with him. Papa will +not speak with him,--because of money.” + +“But he is friends with you.” + +“Yes; I think he loves me. I saw how distasteful it was to you to go +to him;--and probably you were engaged?” + +“One can always get off those sort of things if there is an object.” + +“Yes;--just so. And the object was to oblige me;--was it not?” + +“Of course it was. But I must go now. We are to hear Daubeny’s +statement at four, and I would not miss it for worlds.” + +“I wonder whether you would go abroad with my brother in the autumn? +But I have no right to think of such a thing;--have I? At any rate +I will not think of it yet. Good-bye,--I shall see you perhaps on +Sunday if you are in town.” + +Phineas walked down to Westminster with his mind very full of Lady +Laura and Lord Chiltern. What did she mean by her affectionate +manner to himself, and what did she mean by the continual praises +which she lavished upon Mr. Kennedy? Of whom was she thinking most, +of Mr. Kennedy, or of him? She had called herself his mentor. Was +the description of her feelings towards himself, as conveyed in that +name, of a kind to be gratifying to him? No;--he thought not. But +then might it not be within his power to change the nature of those +feelings? She was not in love with him at present. He could not make +any boast to himself on that head. But it might be within his power +to compel her to love him. The female mentor might be softened. That +she could not love Mr. Kennedy, he thought that he was quite sure. +There was nothing like love in her manner to Mr. Kennedy. As to Lord +Chiltern, Phineas would do whatever might be in his power. All that +he really knew of Lord Chiltern was that he had gambled and that he +had drunk. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The New Government + + +In the House of Lords that night, and in the House of Commons, the +outgoing Ministers made their explanations. As our business at the +present moment is with the Commons, we will confine ourselves to +their chamber, and will do so the more willingly because the upshot +of what was said in the two places was the same. The outgoing +ministers were very grave, very self-laudatory, and very courteous. +In regard to courtesy it may be declared that no stranger to the +ways of the place could have understood how such soft words could be +spoken by Mr. Daubeny, beaten, so quickly after the very sharp words +which he had uttered when he only expected to be beaten. He announced +to his fellow-commoners that his right honourable friend and +colleague Lord de Terrier had thought it right to retire from the +Treasury. Lord de Terrier, in constitutional obedience to the vote +of the Lower House, had resigned, and the Queen had been graciously +pleased to accept Lord de Terrier’s resignation. Mr. Daubeny could +only inform the House that her Majesty had signified her pleasure +that Mr. Mildmay should wait upon her to-morrow at eleven o’clock. +Mr. Mildmay,--so Mr. Daubeny understood,--would be with her Majesty +to-morrow at that hour. Lord de Terrier had found it to be his duty +to recommend her Majesty to send for Mr. Mildmay. Such was the real +import of Mr. Daubeny’s speech. That further portion of it in which +he explained with blandest, most beneficent, honey-flowing words that +his party would have done everything that the country could require +of any party, had the House allowed it to remain on the Treasury +benches for a month or two,--and explained also that his party would +never recriminate, would never return evil for evil, would in no wise +copy the factious opposition of their adversaries; that his party +would now, as it ever had done, carry itself with the meekness of +the dove, and the wisdom of the serpent,--all this, I say, was so +generally felt by gentlemen on both sides of the House to be “leather +and prunella” that very little attention was paid to it. The great +point was that Lord de Terrier had resigned, and that Mr. Mildmay had +been summoned to Windsor. + +The Queen had sent for Mr. Mildmay in compliance with advice given +to her by Lord de Terrier. And yet Lord de Terrier and his first +lieutenant had used all the most practised efforts of their eloquence +for the last three days in endeavouring to make their countrymen +believe that no more unfitting Minister than Mr. Mildmay ever +attempted to hold the reins of office! Nothing had been too bad +for them to say of Mr. Mildmay,--and yet, in the very first moment +in which they found themselves unable to carry on the Government +themselves, they advised the Queen to send for that most incompetent +and baneful statesman! We who are conversant with our own methods of +politics, see nothing odd in this, because we are used to it; but +surely in the eyes of strangers our practice must be very singular. +There is nothing like it in any other country,--nothing as yet. +Nowhere else is there the same good-humoured, affectionate, +prize-fighting ferocity in politics. The leaders of our two great +parties are to each other exactly as are the two champions of the +ring who knock each other about for the belt and for five hundred +pounds a side once in every two years. How they fly at each other, +striking as though each blow should carry death if it were but +possible! And yet there is no one whom the Birmingham Bantam +respects so highly as he does Bill Burns the Brighton Bully, or with +whom he has so much delight in discussing the merits of a pot of +half-and-half. And so it was with Mr. Daubeny and Mr. Mildmay. In +private life Mr. Daubeny almost adulated his elder rival,--and Mr. +Mildmay never omitted an opportunity of taking Mr. Daubeny warmly by +the hand. It is not so in the United States. There the same political +enmity exists, but the political enmity produces private hatred. The +leaders of parties there really mean what they say when they abuse +each other, and are in earnest when they talk as though they were +about to tear each other limb from limb. I doubt whether Mr. Daubeny +would have injured a hair of Mr. Mildmay’s venerable head, even for +an assurance of six continued months in office. + +When Mr. Daubeny had completed his statement, Mr. Mildmay simply told +the House that he had received and would obey her Majesty’s commands. +The House would of course understand that he by no means meant to +aver that the Queen would even commission him to form a Ministry. But +if he took no such command from her Majesty it would become his duty +to recommend her Majesty to impose the task upon some other person. +Then everything was said that had to be said, and members returned to +their clubs. A certain damp was thrown over the joy of some excitable +Liberals by tidings which reached the House during Mr. Daubeny’s +speech. Sir Everard Powell was no more dead than was Mr. Daubeny +himself. Now it is very unpleasant to find that your news is untrue, +when you have been at great pains to disseminate it. “Oh, but he is +dead,” said Mr. Ratler. “Lady Powell assured me half an hour ago,” +said Mr. Ratler’s opponent, “that he was at that moment a great deal +better than he had been for the last three months. The journey down +to the House did him a world of good.” “Then we’ll have him down for +every division,” said Mr. Ratler. + +The political portion of London was in a ferment for the next five +days. On the Sunday morning it was known that Mr. Mildmay had +declined to put himself at the head of a liberal Government. He and +the Duke of St. Bungay, and Mr. Plantagenet Palliser, had been in +conference so often, and so long, that it may almost be said they +lived together in conference. Then Mr. Gresham had been with Mr. +Mildmay,--and Mr. Monk also. At the clubs it was said by many that +Mr. Monk had been with Mr. Mildmay; but it was also said very +vehemently by others that no such interview had taken place. Mr. Monk +was a Radical, much admired by the people, sitting in Parliament for +that most Radical of all constituencies, the Pottery Hamlets, who +had never as yet been in power. It was the great question of the day +whether Mr. Mildmay would or would not ask Mr. Monk to join him; and +it was said by those who habitually think at every period of change +that the time has now come in which the difficulties to forming a +government will at last be found to be insuperable, that Mr. Mildmay +could not succeed either with Mr. Monk or without him. There were at +the present moment two sections of these gentlemen,--the section +which declared that Mr. Mildmay had sent for Mr. Monk, and the +section which declared that he had not. But there were others, who +perhaps knew better what they were saying, by whom it was asserted +that the whole difficulty lay with Mr. Gresham. Mr. Gresham was +willing to serve with Mr. Mildmay,--with certain stipulations as +to the special seat in the Cabinet which he himself was to occupy, +and as to the introduction of certain friends of his own; but,--so +said these gentlemen who were supposed really to understand the +matter,--Mr. Gresham was not willing to serve with the Duke and with +Mr. Palliser. Now, everybody who knew anything knew that the Duke +and Mr. Palliser were indispensable to Mr. Mildmay. And a liberal +Government, with Mr. Gresham in the opposition, could not live half +through a session! All Sunday and Monday these things were discussed; +and on the Monday Lord de Terrier absolutely stated to the Upper +House that he had received her Majesty’s commands to form another +government. Mr. Daubeny, in half a dozen most modest words,--in words +hardly audible, and most unlike himself,--made his statement in the +Lower House to the same effect. Then Mr. Ratler, and Mr. Bonteen, and +Mr. Barrington Erle, and Mr. Laurence Fitzgibbon aroused themselves +and swore that such things could not be. Should the prey which they +had won for themselves, the spoil of their bows and arrows, be +snatched from out of their very mouths by treachery? Lord de Terrier +and Mr. Daubeny could not venture even to make another attempt unless +they did so in combination with Mr. Gresham. Such a combination, said +Mr. Barrington Erle, would be disgraceful to both parties, but would +prove Mr. Gresham to be as false as Satan himself. Early on the +Tuesday morning, when it was known that Mr. Gresham had been at Lord +de Terrier’s house, Barrington Erle was free to confess that he had +always been afraid of Mr. Gresham. “I have felt for years,” said he, +“that if anybody could break up the party it would be Mr. Gresham.” + +On that Tuesday morning Mr. Gresham certainly was with Lord de +Terrier, but nothing came of it. Mr. Gresham was either not enough +like Satan for the occasion, or else he was too closely like him. +Lord de Terrier did not bid high enough, or else Mr. Gresham did not +like biddings from that quarter. Nothing then came from this attempt, +and on the Tuesday afternoon the Queen again sent for Mr. Mildmay. On +the Wednesday morning the gentlemen who thought that the insuperable +difficulties had at length arrived, began to wear their longest +faces, and to be triumphant with melancholy forebodings. Now at +last there was a dead lock. Nobody could form a government. It +was asserted that Mr. Mildmay had fallen at her Majesty’s feet +dissolved in tears, and had implored to be relieved from further +responsibility. It was well known to many at the clubs that the Queen +had on that morning telegraphed to Germany for advice. There were men +so gloomy as to declare that the Queen must throw herself into the +arms of Mr. Monk, unless Mr. Mildmay would consent to rise from his +knees and once more buckle on his ancient armour. “Even that would +be better than Gresham,” said Barrington Erle, in his anger. “I’ll +tell you what it is,” said Ratler, “we shall have Gresham and Monk +together, and you and I shall have to do their biddings.” Mr. +Barrington Erle’s reply to that suggestion I may not dare to insert +in these pages. + +On the Wednesday night, however, it was known that everything had +been arranged, and before the Houses met on the Thursday every place +had been bestowed, either in reality or in imagination. The _Times_, +in its second edition on the Thursday, gave a list of the Cabinet, in +which four places out of fourteen were rightly filled. On the Friday +it named ten places aright, and indicated the law officers, with only +one mistake in reference to Ireland; and on the Saturday it gave +a list of the Under Secretaries of State, and Secretaries and +Vice-Presidents generally, with wonderful correctness as to the +individuals, though the offices were a little jumbled. The Government +was at last formed in a manner which everybody had seen to be the +only possible way in which a government could be formed. Nobody was +surprised, and the week’s work was regarded as though the regular +routine of government making had simply been followed. Mr. Mildmay +was Prime Minister; Mr. Gresham was at the Foreign Office; Mr. Monk +was at the Board of Trade; the Duke was President of the Council; the +Earl of Brentford was Privy Seal; and Mr. Palliser was Chancellor of +the Exchequer. Barrington Erle made a step up in the world, and went +to the Admiralty as Secretary; Mr. Bonteen was sent again to the +Admiralty; and Laurence Fitzgibbon became a junior Lord of the +Treasury. Mr. Ratler was, of course, installed as Patronage Secretary +to the same Board. Mr. Ratler was perhaps the only man in the party +as to whose destination there could not possibly be a doubt. Mr. +Ratler had really qualified himself for a position in such a way as +to make all men feel that he would, as a matter of course, be called +upon to fill it. I do not know whether as much could be said on +behalf of any other man in the new Government. + +During all this excitement, and through all these movements, Phineas +Finn felt himself to be left more and more out in the cold. He had +not been such a fool as to suppose that any office would be offered +to him. He had never hinted at such a thing to his one dearly +intimate friend, Lady Laura. He had not hitherto opened his mouth in +Parliament. Indeed, when the new Government was formed he had not +been sitting for above a fortnight. Of course nothing could be done +for him as yet. But, nevertheless, he felt himself to be out in the +cold. The very men who had discussed with him the question of the +division,--who had discussed it with him because his vote was then as +good as that of any other member,--did not care to talk to him about +the distribution of places. He, at any rate, could not be one of +them. He, at any rate, could not be a rival. He could neither mar +nor assist. He could not be either a successful or a disappointed +sympathiser,--because he could not himself be a candidate. The affair +which perhaps disgusted him more than anything else was the offer of +an office,--not in the Cabinet, indeed, but one supposed to confer +high dignity,--to Mr. Kennedy. Mr. Kennedy refused the offer, and +this somewhat lessened Finn’s disgust, but the offer itself made him +unhappy. + +“I suppose it was made simply because of his money,” he said to +Fitzgibbon. + +“I don’t believe that,” said Fitzgibbon. “People seem to think that +he has got a head on his shoulders, though he has got no tongue in +it. I wonder at his refusing it because of the Right Honourable.” + +“I am so glad that Mr. Kennedy refused,” said Lady Laura to him. + +“And why? He would have been the Right Hon. Robert Kennedy for ever +and ever.” Phineas when he said this did not as yet know exactly +how it would have come to pass that such honour,--the honour of the +enduring prefix to his name,--would have come in the way of Mr. +Kennedy had Mr. Kennedy accepted the office in question; but he was +very quick to learn all these things, and, in the meantime, he rarely +made any mistake about them. + +“What would that have been to him,--with his wealth?” said Lady +Laura. “He has a position of his own and need not care for such +things. There are men who should not attempt what is called +independence in Parliament. By doing so they simply decline to make +themselves useful. But there are a few whose special walk in life it +is to be independent, and, as it were, unmoved by parties.” + +“Great Akinetoses! You know Orion,” said Phineas. + +“Mr. Kennedy is not an Akinetos,” said Lady Laura. + +“He holds a very proud position,” said Phineas, ironically. + +“A very proud position indeed,” said Lady Laura, in sober earnest. + +The dinner at Moroni’s had been eaten, and Phineas had given an +account of the entertainment to Lord Chiltern’s sister. There had +been only two other guests, and both of them had been men on the +turf. “I was the first there,” said Phineas, “and he surprised me +ever so much by telling me that you had spoken to him of me before.” + +“Yes; I did so. I wish him to know you. I want him to know some men +who think of something besides horses. He is very well educated, you +know, and would certainly have taken honours if he had not quarrelled +with the people at Christ Church.” + +“Did he take a degree?” + +“No;--they sent him down. It is best always to have the truth among +friends. Of course you will hear it some day. They expelled him +because he was drunk.” Then Lady Laura burst out into tears, and +Phineas sat near her, and consoled her, and swore that if in any way +he could befriend her brother he would do so. + +Mr. Fitzgibbon at this time claimed a promise which he said that +Phineas had made to him,--that Phineas would go over with him to Mayo +to assist at his re-election. And Phineas did go. The whole affair +occupied but a week, and was chiefly memorable as being the means of +cementing the friendship which existed between the two Irish members. + +“A thousand a year!” said Laurence Fitzgibbon, speaking of the salary +of his office. “It isn’t much; is it? And every fellow to whom I owe +a shilling will be down upon me. If I had studied my own comfort, I +should have done the same as Kennedy.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Violet Effingham + + +It was now the middle of May, and a month had elapsed since the +terrible difficulty about the Queen’s Government had been solved. A +month had elapsed, and things had shaken themselves into their places +with more of ease and apparent fitness than men had given them credit +for possessing. Mr. Mildmay, Mr. Gresham, and Mr. Monk were the best +friends in the world, swearing by each other in their own house, and +supported in the other by as gallant a phalanx of Whig peers as ever +were got together to fight against the instincts of their own order +in compliance with the instincts of those below them. Lady Laura’s +father was in the Cabinet, to Lady Laura’s infinite delight. It +was her ambition to be brought as near to political action as was +possible for a woman without surrendering any of the privileges of +feminine inaction. That women should even wish to have votes at +parliamentary elections was to her abominable, and the cause of the +Rights of Women generally was odious to her; but, nevertheless, for +herself, she delighted in hoping that she too might be useful,--in +thinking that she too was perhaps, in some degree, politically +powerful; and she had received considerable increase to such hopes +when her father accepted the Privy Seal. The Earl himself was not an +ambitious man, and, but for his daughter, would have severed himself +altogether from political life before this time. He was an unhappy +man;--being an obstinate man, and having in his obstinacy quarrelled +with his only son. In his unhappiness he would have kept himself +alone, living in the country, brooding over his wretchedness, were +it not for his daughter. On her behalf, and in obedience to her +requirements, he came yearly up to London, and, perhaps in compliance +with her persuasion, had taken some part in the debates of the House +of Lords. It is easy for a peer to be a statesman, if the trouble of +the life be not too much for him. Lord Brentford was now a statesman, +if a seat in the Cabinet be proof of statesmanship. + +At this time, in May, there was staying with Lady Laura in Portman +Square a very dear friend of hers, by name Violet Effingham. Violet +Effingham was an orphan, an heiress, and a beauty; with a terrible +aunt, one Lady Baldock, who was supposed to be the dragon who had +Violet, as a captive maiden, in charge. But as Miss Effingham was of +age, and was mistress of her own fortune, Lady Baldock was, in truth, +not omnipotent as a dragon should be. The dragon, at any rate, was +not now staying in Portman Square, and the captivity of the maiden +was therefore not severe at the present moment. Violet Effingham was +very pretty, but could hardly be said to be beautiful. She was small, +with light crispy hair, which seemed to be ever on the flutter round +her brows, and which yet was never a hair astray. She had sweet, soft +grey eyes, which never looked at you long, hardly for a moment,--but +which yet, in that half moment, nearly killed you by the power of +their sweetness. Her cheek was the softest thing in nature, and the +colour of it, when its colour was fixed enough to be told, was a +shade of pink so faint and creamy that you would hardly dare to call +it by its name. Her mouth was perfect, not small enough to give that +expression of silliness which is so common, but almost divine, with +the temptation of its full, rich, ruby lips. Her teeth, which she but +seldom showed, were very even and very white, and there rested on her +chin the dearest dimple that ever acted as a loadstar to mens’s eyes. +The fault of her face, if it had a fault, was in her nose,--which +was a little too sharp, and perhaps too small. A woman who wanted to +depreciate Violet Effingham had once called her a pug-nosed puppet; +but I, as her chronicler, deny that she was pug-nosed,--and all the +world who knew her soon came to understand that she was no puppet. In +figure she was small, but not so small as she looked to be. Her feet +and hands were delicately fine, and there was a softness about her +whole person, an apparent compressibility, which seemed to indicate +that she might go into very small compass. Into what compass and +how compressed, there were very many men who held very different +opinions. Violet Effingham was certainly no puppet. She was great +at dancing,--as perhaps might be a puppet,--but she was great also +at archery, great at skating,--and great, too, at hunting. With +reference to that last accomplishment, she and Lady Baldock had had +more than one terrible tussle, not always with advantage to the +dragon. “My dear aunt,” she had said once during the last winter, +“I am going to the meet with George,”--George was her cousin, Lord +Baldock, and was the dragon’s son,--“and there, let there be an end +of it.” “And you will promise me that you will not go further,” said +the dragon. “I will promise nothing to-day to any man or to any +woman,” said Violet. What was to be said to a young lady who spoke in +this way, and who had become of age only a fortnight since? She rode +that day the famous run from Bagnall’s Gorse to Foulsham Common, and +was in at the death. + +Violet Effingham was now sitting in conference with her friend Lady +Laura, and they were discussing matters of high import,--of very high +import, indeed,--to the interests of both of them. “I do not ask you +to accept him,” said Lady Laura. + +“That is lucky,” said the other, “as he has never asked me.” + +“He has done much the same. You know that he loves you.” + +“I know,--or fancy that I know,--that so many men love me! But, after +all, what sort of love is it? It is just as when you and I, when we +see something nice in a shop, call it a dear duck of a thing, and +tell somebody to go and buy it, let the price be ever so extravagant. +I know my own position, Laura. I’m a dear duck of a thing.” + +“You are a very dear thing to Oswald.” + +“But you, Laura, will some day inspire a grand passion,--or I daresay +have already, for you are a great deal too close to tell;--and then +there will be cutting of throats, and a mighty hubbub, and a real +tragedy. I shall never go beyond genteel comedy,--unless I run away +with somebody beneath me, or do something awfully improper.” + +“Don’t do that, dear.” + +“I should like to, because of my aunt. I should indeed. If it were +possible, without compromising myself, I should like her to be told +some morning that I had gone off with the curate.” + +“How can you be so wicked, Violet!” + +“It would serve her right, and her countenance would be so awfully +comic. Mind, if it is ever to come off, I must be there to see it. I +know what she would say as well as possible. She would turn to poor +Gussy. ‘Augusta,’ she would say, ‘I always expected it. I always +did.’ Then I should come out and curtsey to her, and say so prettily, +‘Dear aunt, it was only our little joke.’ That’s my line. But for +you,--you, if you planned it, would go off to-morrow with Lucifer +himself if you liked him.” + +“But failing Lucifer, I shall probably be very humdrum.” + +“You don’t mean that there is anything settled, Laura?” + +“There is nothing settled,--or any beginning of anything that ever +can be settled, But I am not talking about myself. He has told me +that if you will accept him, he will do anything that you and I may +ask him.” + +“Yes;--he will promise.” + +“Did you ever know him to break his word?” + +“I know nothing about him, my dear. How should I?” + +“Do not pretend to be ignorant and meek, Violet. You do know +him,--much better than most girls know the men they marry. You have +known him, more or less intimately, all your life.” + +“But am I bound to marry him because of that accident?” + +“No; you are not bound to marry him,--unless you love him.” + +“I do not love him,” said Violet, with slow, emphatic words, and a +little forward motion of her face, as though she were specially eager +to convince her friend that she was quite in earnest in what she +said. + +“I fancy, Violet, that you are nearer to loving him than any other +man.” + +“I am not at all near to loving any man. I doubt whether I ever shall +be. It does not seem to me to be possible to myself to be what girls +call in love. I can like a man. I do like, perhaps, half a dozen. I +like them so much that if I go to a house or to a party it is quite +a matter of importance to me whether this man or that will or will +not be there. And then I suppose I flirt with them. At least Augusta +tells me that my aunt says that I do. But as for caring about any one +of them in the way of loving him,--wanting to marry him, and have him +all to myself, and that sort of thing,--I don’t know what it means.” + +“But you intend to be married some day,” said Lady Laura. + +“Certainly I do. And I don’t intend to wait very much longer. I am +heartily tired of Lady Baldock, and though I can generally escape +among my friends, that is not sufficient. I am beginning to think +that it would be pleasant to have a house of my own. A girl becomes +such a Bohemian when she is always going about, and doesn’t quite +know where any of her things are.” + +Then there was a silence between them for a few minutes. Violet +Effingham was doubled up in a corner of a sofa, with her feet tucked +under her, and her face reclining upon one of her shoulders. And as +she talked she was playing with a little toy which was constructed +to take various shapes as it was flung this way or that. A bystander +looking at her would have thought that the toy was much more to her +than the conversation. Lady Laura was sitting upright, in a common +chair, at a table not far from her companion, and was manifestly +devoting herself altogether to the subject that was being discussed +between them. She had taken no lounging, easy attitude, she had found +no employment for her fingers, and she looked steadily at Violet as +she talked,--whereas Violet was looking only at the little manikin +which she tossed. And now Laura got up and came to the sofa, and sat +close to her friend. Violet, though she somewhat moved one foot, so +as to seem to make room for the other, still went on with her play. + +“If you do marry, Violet, you must choose some one man out of the +lot.” + +“That’s quite true, my dear, I certainly can’t marry them all.” + +“And how do you mean to make the choice?” + +“I don’t know. I suppose I shall toss up.” + +“I wish you would be in earnest with me.” + +“Well;--I will be in earnest. I shall take the first that comes after +I have quite made up my mind. You’ll think it very horrible, but that +is really what I shall do. After all, a husband is very much like a +house or a horse. You don’t take your house because it’s the best +house in the world, but because just then you want a house. You go +and see a house, and if it’s very nasty you don’t take it. But if +you think it will suit pretty well, and if you are tired of looking +about for houses, you do take it. That’s the way one buys one’s +horses,--and one’s husbands.” + +“And you have not made up your mind yet?” + +“Not quite. Lady Baldock was a little more decent than usual just +before I left Baddingham. When I told her that I meant to have a pair +of ponies, she merely threw up her hands and grunted. She didn’t +gnash her teeth, and curse and swear, and declare to me that I was a +child of perdition.” + +“What do you mean by cursing and swearing?” + +“She told me once that if I bought a certain little dog, it would +lead to my being everlastingly--you know what. She isn’t so squeamish +as I am, and said it out.” + +“What did you do?” + +“I bought the little dog, and it bit my aunt’s heel. I was very sorry +then, and gave the creature to Mary Rivers. He was such a beauty! I +hope the perdition has gone with him, for I don’t like Mary Rivers +at all. I had to give the poor beasty to somebody, and Mary Rivers +happened to be there. I told her that Puck was connected with +Apollyon, but she didn’t mind that. Puck was worth twenty guineas, +and I daresay she has sold him.” + +“Oswald may have an equal chance then among the other favourites?” +said Lady Laura, after another pause. + +“There are no favourites, and I will not say that any man may have a +chance. Why do you press me about your brother in this way?” + +“Because I am so anxious. Because it would save him. Because you are +the only woman for whom he has ever cared, and because he loves you +with all his heart; and because his father would be reconciled to him +to-morrow if he heard that you and he were engaged.” + +“Laura, my dear--” + +“Well.” + +“You won’t be angry if I speak out?” + +“Certainly not. After what I have said, you have a right to speak +out.” + +“It seems to me that all your reasons are reasons why he should marry +me;--not reasons why I should marry him.” + +“Is not his love for you a reason?” + +“No,” said Violet, pausing,--and speaking the word in the lowest +possible whisper. “If he did not love me, that, if known to me, +should be a reason why I should not marry him. Ten men may love +me,--I don’t say that any man does--” + +“He does.” + +“But I can’t marry all the ten. And as for that business of saving +him--” + +“You know what I mean!” + +“I don’t know that I have any special mission for saving young men. I +sometimes think that I shall have quite enough to do to save myself. +It is strange what a propensity I feel for the wrong side of the +post.” + +“I feel the strongest assurance that you will always keep on the +right side.” + +“Thank you, my dear. I mean to try, but I’m quite sure that the +jockey who takes me in hand ought to be very steady himself. Now, +Lord Chiltern--” + +“Well,--out with it. What have you to say?” + +“He does not bear the best reputation in this world as a steady man. +Is he altogether the sort of man that mammas of the best kind are +seeking for their daughters? I like a roué myself;--and a prig who +sits all night in the House, and talks about nothing but church-rates +and suffrage, is to me intolerable. I prefer men who are improper, +and all that sort of thing. If I were a man myself I should go in for +everything I ought to leave alone. I know I should. But you see,--I’m +not a man, and I must take care of myself. The wrong side of a post +for a woman is so very much the wrong side. I like a fast man, but I +know that I must not dare to marry the sort of man that I like.” + +“To be one of us, then,--the very first among us;--would that be the +wrong side?” + +“You mean that to be Lady Chiltern in the present tense, and Lady +Brentford in the future, would be promotion for Violet Effingham in +the past?” + +“How hard you are, Violet!” + +“Fancy,--that it should come to this,--that you should call me hard, +Laura. I should like to be your sister. I should like well enough to +be your father’s daughter. I should like well enough to be Chiltern’s +friend. I am his friend. Nothing that any one has ever said of him +has estranged me from him. I have fought for him till I have been +black in the face. Yes, I have,--with my aunt. But I am afraid to be +his wife. The risk would be so great. Suppose that I did not save +him, but that he brought me to shipwreck instead?” + +“That could not be!” + +“Could it not? I think it might be so very well. When I was a child +they used to be always telling me to mind myself. It seems to me that +a child and a man need not mind themselves. Let them do what they +may, they can be set right again. Let them fall as they will, you can +put them on their feet. But a woman has to mind herself;--and very +hard work it is when she has a dragon of her own driving her ever the +wrong way.” + +“I want to take you from the dragon.” + +“Yes;--and to hand me over to a griffin.” + +“The truth is, Violet, that you do not know Oswald. He is not a +griffin.” + +“I did not mean to be uncomplimentary. Take any of the dangerous +wild beasts you please. I merely intend to point out that he is a +dangerous wild beast. I daresay he is noble-minded, and I will call +him a lion if you like it better. But even with a lion there is +risk.” + +“Of course there will be risk. There is risk with every man,--unless +you will be contented with the prig you described. Of course there +would be risk with my brother. He has been a gambler.” + +“They say he is one still.” + +“He has given it up in part, and would entirely at your instance.” + +“And they say other things of him, Laura.” + +“It is true. He has had paroxysms of evil life which have well-nigh +ruined him.” + +“And these paroxysms are so dangerous! Is he not in debt?” + +“He is,--but not deeply. Every shilling that he owes would be +paid;--every shilling. Mind, I know all his circumstances, and I +give you my word that every shilling should be paid. He has never +lied,--and he has told me everything. His father could not leave an +acre away from him if he would, and would not if he could.” + +“I did not ask as fearing that. I spoke only of a dangerous habit. A +paroxysm of spending money is apt to make one so uncomfortable. And +then--” + +“Well.” + +“I don’t know why I should make a catalogue of your brother’s +weaknesses.” + +“You mean to say that he drinks too much?” + +“I do not say so. People say so. The dragon says so. And as I always +find her sayings to be untrue, I suppose this is like the rest of +them.” + +“It is untrue if it be said of him as a habit.” + +“It is another paroxysm,--just now and then.” + +“Do not laugh at me, Violet, when I am taking his part, or I shall be +offended.” + +“But you see, if I am to be his wife, it is--rather important.” + +“Still you need not ridicule me.” + +“Dear Laura, you know I do not ridicule you. You know I love you for +what you are doing. Would not I do the same, and fight for him down +to my nails if I had a brother?” + +“And therefore I want you to be Oswald’s wife;--because I know that +you would fight for him. It is not true that he is a--drunkard. Look +at his hand, which is as steady as yours. Look at his eye. Is there a +sign of it? He has been drunk, once or twice, perhaps,--and has done +fearful things.” + +“It might be that he would do fearful things to me.” + +“You never knew a man with a softer heart or with a finer spirit. I +believe as I sit here that if he were married to-morrow, his vices +would fall from him like old clothes.” + +“You will admit, Laura, that there will be some risk for the wife.” + +“Of course there will be a risk. Is there not always a risk?” + +“The men in the city would call this double-dangerous, I think,” said +Violet. Then the door was opened, and the man of whom they were +speaking entered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Lord Chiltern + + +The reader has been told that Lord Chiltern was a red man, and that +peculiarity of his personal appearance was certainly the first to +strike a stranger. It imparted a certain look of ferocity to him, +which was apt to make men afraid of him at first sight. Women are not +actuated in the same way, and are accustomed to look deeper into men +at the first sight than other men will trouble themselves to do. His +beard was red, and was clipped, so as to have none of the softness of +waving hair. The hair on his head also was kept short, and was very +red,--and the colour of his face was red. Nevertheless he was a +handsome man, with well-cut features, not tall, but very strongly +built, and with a certain curl in the corner of his eyelids which +gave to him a look of resolution,--which perhaps he did not possess. +He was known to be a clever man, and when very young had had +the reputation of being a scholar. When he was three-and-twenty +grey-haired votaries of the turf declared that he would make his +fortune on the race-course,--so clear-headed was he as to odds, so +excellent a judge of a horse’s performances, and so gifted with a +memory of events. When he was five-and-twenty he had lost every +shilling of a fortune of his own, had squeezed from his father more +than his father ever chose to name in speaking of his affairs to +any one, and was known to be in debt. But he had sacrificed himself +on one or two memorable occasions in conformity with turf laws of +honour, and men said of him, either that he was very honest or very +chivalric,--in accordance with the special views on the subject of +the man who was speaking. It was reported now that he no longer owned +horses on the turf;--but this was doubted by some who could name +the animals which they said that he owned, and which he ran in the +name of Mr. Macnab,--said some; of Mr. Pardoe,--said others; of Mr. +Chickerwick,--said a third set of informants. The fact was that Lord +Chiltern at this moment had no interest of his own in any horse upon +the turf. + +But all the world knew that he drank. He had taken by the throat +a proctor’s bull-dog when he had been drunk at Oxford, had nearly +strangled the man, and had been expelled. He had fallen through his +violence into some terrible misfortune at Paris, had been brought +before a public judge, and his name and his infamy had been made +notorious in every newspaper in the two capitals. After that he had +fought a ruffian at Newmarket, and had really killed him with his +fists. In reference to this latter affray it had been proved that the +attack had been made on him, that he had not been to blame, and that +he had not been drunk. After a prolonged investigation he had come +forth from that affair without disgrace. He would have done so, at +least, if he had not been heretofore disgraced. But we all know how +the man well spoken of may steal a horse, while he who is of evil +repute may not look over a hedge. It was asserted widely by many who +were supposed to know all about everything that Lord Chiltern was in +a fit of delirium tremens when he killed the ruffian at Newmarket. +The worst of that latter affair was that it produced the total +estrangement which now existed between Lord Brentford and his son. +Lord Brentford would not believe that his son was in that matter +more sinned against than sinning. “Such things do not happen to +other men’s sons,” he said, when Lady Laura pleaded for her brother. +Lady Laura could not induce her father to see his son, but so far +prevailed that no sentence of banishment was pronounced against +Lord Chiltern. There was nothing to prevent the son sitting at +his father’s table if he so pleased. He never did so please,--but +nevertheless he continued to live in the house in Portman Square; +and when he met the Earl, in the hall, perhaps, or on the staircase, +would simply bow to him. Then the Earl would bow again, and shuffle +on,--and look very wretched, as no doubt he was. A grown-up son must +be the greatest comfort a man can have,--if he be his father’s best +friend; but otherwise he can hardly be a comfort. As it was in this +house, the son was a constant thorn in his father’s side. + +“What does he do when we leave London?” Lord Brentford once said to +his daughter. + +“He stays here, papa.” + +“But he hunts still?” + +“Yes, he hunts,--and he has a room somewhere at an inn,--down in +Northamptonshire. But he is mostly in London. They have trains on +purpose.” + +“What a life for my son!” said the Earl. “What a life! Of course no +decent person will let him into his house.” Lady Laura did not know +what to say to this, for in truth Lord Chiltern was not fond of +staying at the houses of persons whom the Earl would have called +decent. + +General Effingham, the father of Violet, and Lord Brentford had been +the closest and dearest of friends. They had been young men in the +same regiment, and through life each had confided in the other. When +the General’s only son, then a youth of seventeen, was killed in +one of our grand New Zealand wars, the bereaved father and the Earl +had been together for a month in their sorrow. At that time Lord +Chiltern’s career had still been open to hope,--and the one man had +contrasted his lot with the other. General Effingham lived long +enough to hear the Earl declare that his lot was the happier of the +two. Now the General was dead, and Violet, the daughter of a second +wife, was all that was left of the Effinghams. This second wife had +been a Miss Plummer, a lady from the city with much money, whose +sister had married Lord Baldock. Violet in this way had fallen to the +care of the Baldock people, and not into the hands of her father’s +friends. But, as the reader will have surmised, she had ideas of her +own of emancipating herself from Baldock thraldom. + +Twice before that last terrible affair at Newmarket, before the +quarrel between the father and the son had been complete, Lord +Brentford had said a word to his daughter,--merely a word,--of his +son in connection with Miss Effingham. + +“If he thinks of it I shall be glad to see him on the subject. You +may tell him so.” That had been the first word. He had just then +resolved that the affair in Paris should be regarded as condoned,--as +among the things to be forgotten. “She is too good for him; but if he +asks her let him tell her everything.” That had been the second word, +and had been spoken immediately subsequent to a payment of twelve +thousand pounds made by the Earl towards the settlement of certain +Doncaster accounts. Lady Laura in negotiating for the money had +been very eloquent in describing some honest,--or shall we say +chivalric,--sacrifice which had brought her brother into this special +difficulty. Since that the Earl had declined to interest himself in +his son’s matrimonial affairs; and when Lady Laura had once again +mentioned the matter, declaring her belief that it would be the means +of saving her brother Oswald, the Earl had desired her to be silent. +“Would you wish to destroy the poor child?” he had said. Nevertheless +Lady Laura felt sure that if she were to go to her father with a +positive statement that Oswald and Violet were engaged, he would +relent and would accept Violet as his daughter. As for the payment of +Lord Chiltern’s present debts;--she had a little scheme of her own +about that. + +Miss Effingham, who had been already two days in Portman Square, had +not as yet seen Lord Chiltern. She knew that he lived in the house, +that is, that he slept there, and probably eat his breakfast in some +apartment of his own;--but she knew also that the habits of the house +would not by any means make it necessary that they should meet. Laura +and her brother probably saw each other daily,--but they never went +into society together, and did not know the same sets of people. +When she had announced to Lady Baldock her intention of spending the +first fortnight of her London season with her friend Lady Laura, +Lady Baldock had as a matter of course--“jumped upon her,” as Miss +Effingham would herself call it. + +“You are going to the house of the worst reprobate in all England,” +said Lady Baldock. + +“What;--dear old Lord Brentford, whom papa loved so well!” + +“I mean Lord Chiltern, who, only last year,--murdered a man!” + +“That is not true, aunt.” + +“There is worse than that,--much worse. He is always--tipsy, and +always gambling, and always-- But it is quite unfit that I should +speak a word more to you about such a man as Lord Chiltern. His name +ought never to be mentioned.” + +“Then why did you mention it, aunt?” + +Lady Baldock’s process of jumping upon her niece,--in which I think +the aunt had generally the worst of the exercise,--went on for some +time, but Violet of course carried her point. + +“If she marries him there will be an end of everything,” said Lady +Baldock to her daughter Augusta. + +“She has more sense than that, mamma,” said Augusta. + +“I don’t think she has any sense at all,” said Lady Baldock;--“not in +the least. I do wish my poor sister had lived;--I do indeed.” + +Lord Chiltern was now in the room with Violet,--immediately upon that +conversation between Violet and his sister as to the expediency of +Violet becoming his wife. Indeed his entrance had interrupted the +conversation before it was over. “I am so glad to see you, Miss +Effingham,” he said. “I came in thinking that I might find you.” + +“Here I am, as large as life,” she said, getting up from her +corner on the sofa and giving him her hand. “Laura and I have been +discussing the affairs of the nation for the last two days, and have +nearly brought our discussion to an end.” She could not help looking, +first at his eye and then at his hand, not as wanting evidence to +the truth of the statement which his sister had made, but because +the idea of a drunkard’s eye and a drunkard’s hand had been brought +before her mind. Lord Chiltern’s hand was like the hand of any other +man, but there was something in his eye that almost frightened her. +It looked as though he would not hesitate to wring his wife’s neck +round, if ever he should be brought to threaten to do so. And then +his eye, like the rest of him, was red. No;--she did not think that +she could ever bring herself to marry him. Why take a venture that +was double-dangerous, when there were so many ventures open to her, +apparently with very little of danger attached to them? “If it should +ever be said that I loved him, I would do it all the same,” she said +to herself. + +“If I did not come and see you here, I suppose that I should never +see you,” said he, seating himself. “I do not often go to parties, +and when I do you are not likely to be there.” + +“We might make our little arrangements for meeting,” said she, +laughing. “My aunt, Lady Baldock, is going to have an evening next +week.” + +“The servants would be ordered to put me out of the house.” + +“Oh no. You can tell her that I invited you.” + +“I don’t think that Oswald and Lady Baldock are great friends,” said +Lady Laura. + +“Or he might come and take you and me to the Zoo on Sunday. That’s +the proper sort of thing for a brother and a friend to do.” + +“I hate that place in the Regent’s Park,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“When were you there last?” demanded Miss Effingham. + +“When I came home once from Eton. But I won’t go again till I can +come home from Eton again.” Then he altered his tone as he continued +to speak. “People would look at me as if I were the wildest beast in +the whole collection.” + +“Then,” said Violet, “if you won’t go to Lady Baldock’s or to the +Zoo, we must confine ourselves to Laura’s drawing-room;--unless, +indeed, you like to take me to the top of the Monument.” + +“I’ll take you to the top of the Monument with pleasure.” + +“What do you say, Laura?” + +“I say that you are a foolish girl,” said Lady Laura, “and that I +will have nothing to do with such a scheme.” + +“Then there is nothing for it but that you should come here; and as +you live in the house, and as I am sure to be here every morning, +and as you have no possible occupation for your time, and as we have +nothing particular to do with ours,--I daresay I shan’t see you again +before I go to my aunt’s in Berkeley Square.” + +“Very likely not,” he said. + +“And why not, Oswald?” asked his sister. + +He passed his hand over his face before he answered her. “Because she +and I run in different grooves now, and are not such meet playfellows +as we used to be once. Do you remember my taking you away right +through Saulsby Wood once on the old pony, and not bringing you back +till tea-time, and Miss Blink going and telling my father?” + +“Do I remember it? I think it was the happiest day in my life. His +pockets were crammed full of gingerbread and Everton toffy, and we +had three bottles of lemonade slung on to the pony’s saddlebows. I +thought it was a pity that we should ever come back.” + +“It was a pity,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“But, nevertheless, substantially necessary,” said Lady Laura. + +“Failing our power of reproducing the toffy, I suppose it was,” said +Violet. + +“You were not Miss Effingham then,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“No,--not as yet. These disagreeable realities of life grow upon +one; do they not? You took off my shoes and dried them for me at a +woodman’s cottage. I am obliged to put up with my maid’s doing those +things now. And Miss Blink the mild is changed for Lady Baldock the +martinet. And if I rode about with you in a wood all day I should +be sent to Coventry instead of to bed. And so you see everything is +changed as well as my name.” + +“Everything is not changed,” said Lord Chiltern, getting up from +his seat. “I am not changed,--at least not in this, that as I loved +you better than any being in the world,--better even than Laura +there,--so do I love you now infinitely the best of all. Do not look +so surprised at me. You knew it before as well as you do now;--and +Laura knows it. There is no secret to be kept in the matter among us +three.” + +“But, Lord Chiltern,--” said Miss Effingham, rising also to her feet, +and then pausing, not knowing how to answer him. There had been a +suddenness in his mode of addressing her which had, so to say, almost +taken away her breath; and then to be told by a man of his love +before his sister was in itself, to her, a matter so surprising, that +none of those words came at her command which will come, as though by +instinct, to young ladies on such occasions. + +“You have known it always,” said he, as though he were angry with +her. + +“Lord Chiltern,” she replied, “you must excuse me if I say that you +are, at the least, very abrupt. I did not think when I was going back +so joyfully to our childish days that you would turn the tables on me +in this way.” + +“He has said nothing that ought to make you angry,” said Lady Laura. + +“Only because he has driven me to say that which will make me appear +to be uncivil to himself. Lord Chiltern, I do not love you with that +love of which you are speaking now. As an old friend I have always +regarded you, and I hope that I may always do so.” Then she got up +and left the room. + +“Why were you so sudden with her,--so abrupt,--so loud?” said his +sister, coming up to him and taking him by the arm almost in anger. + +“It would make no difference,” said he. “She does not care for me.” + +“It makes all the difference in the world,” said Lady Laura. “Such +a woman as Violet cannot be had after that fashion. You must begin +again.” + +“I have begun and ended,” he said. + +“That is nonsense. Of course you will persist. It was madness to +speak in that way to-day. You may be sure of this, however, that +there is no one she likes better than you. You must remember that you +have done much to make any girl afraid of you.” + +“I do remember it.” + +“Do something now to make her fear you no longer. Speak to her +softly. Tell her of the sort of life which you would live with her. +Tell her that all is changed. As she comes to love you, she will +believe you when she would believe no one else on that matter.” + +“Am I to tell her a lie?” said Lord Chiltern, looking his sister full +in the face. Then he turned upon his heel and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Autumnal Prospects + + +The session went on very calmly after the opening battle which ousted +Lord de Terrier and sent Mr. Mildmay back to the Treasury,--so calmly +that Phineas Finn was unconsciously disappointed, as lacking that +excitement of contest to which he had been introduced in the first +days of his parliamentary career. From time to time certain waspish +attacks were made by Mr. Daubeny, now on this Secretary of State and +now on that; but they were felt by both parties to mean nothing; and +as no great measure was brought forward, nothing which would serve +by the magnitude of its interests to divide the liberal side of the +House into fractions, Mr. Mildmay’s Cabinet was allowed to hold its +own in comparative peace and quiet. It was now July,--the middle of +July,--and the member for Loughshane had not yet addressed the House. +How often had he meditated doing so; how he had composed his speeches +walking round the Park on his way down to the House; how he got his +subjects up,--only to find on hearing them discussed that he really +knew little or nothing about them; how he had his arguments and +almost his very words taken out of his mouth by some other member; +and lastly, how he had actually been deterred from getting upon his +legs by a certain tremor of blood round his heart when the moment +for rising had come,--of all this he never said a word to any man. +Since that last journey to county Mayo, Laurence Fitzgibbon had been +his most intimate friend, but he said nothing of all this even to +Laurence Fitzgibbon. To his other friend, Lady Laura Standish, he did +explain something of his feelings, not absolutely describing to her +the extent of hindrance to which his modesty had subjected him, but +letting her know that he had his qualms as well as his aspirations. +But as Lady Laura always recommended patience, and more than once +expressed her opinion that a young member would be better to sit +in silence at least for one session, he was not driven to the +mortification of feeling that he was incurring her contempt by his +bashfulness. As regarded the men among whom he lived, I think he was +almost annoyed at finding that no one seemed to expect that he should +speak. Barrington Erle, when he had first talked of sending Phineas +down to Loughshane, had predicted for him all manner of parliamentary +successes, and had expressed the warmest admiration of the manner in +which Phineas had discussed this or that subject at the Union. “We +have not above one or two men in the House who can do that kind of +thing,” Barrington Erle had once said. But now no allusions whatever +were made to his powers of speech, and Phineas in his modest moments +began to be more amazed than ever that he should find himself seated +in that chamber. + +To the forms and technicalities of parliamentary business he did give +close attention, and was unremitting in his attendance. On one or two +occasions he ventured to ask a question of the Speaker, and as the +words of experience fell into his ears, he would tell himself that +he was going through his education,--that he was learning to be a +working member, and perhaps to be a statesman. But his regrets with +reference to Mr. Low and the dingy chambers in Old Square were very +frequent; and had it been possible for him to undo all that he had +done, he would often have abandoned to some one else the honour of +representing the electors of Loughshane. + +But he was supported in all his difficulties by the kindness of his +friend, Lady Laura Standish. He was often in the house in Portman +Square, and was always received with cordiality, and, as he thought, +almost with affection. She would sit and talk to him, sometimes +saying a word about her brother and sometimes about her father, as +though there were more between them than the casual intimacy of +London acquaintance. And in Portman Square he had been introduced to +Miss Effingham, and had found Miss Effingham to be--very nice. Miss +Effingham had quite taken to him, and he had danced with her at two +or three parties, talking always, as he did so, about Lady Laura +Standish. + +“I declare, Laura, I think your friend Mr. Finn is in love with you,” +said Violet to Lady Laura one night. + +“I don’t think that. He is fond of me, and so am I of him. He is +so honest, and so naïve without being awkward! And then he is +undoubtedly clever.” + +“And so uncommonly handsome,” said Violet. + +“I don’t know that that makes much difference,” said Lady Laura. + +“I think it does if a man looks like a gentleman as well.” + +“Mr. Finn certainly looks like a gentleman,” said Lady Laura. + +“And no doubt is one,” said Violet. “I wonder whether he has got any +money.” + +“Not a penny, I should say.” + +“How does such a man manage to live? There are so many men like that, +and they are always mysteries to me. I suppose he’ll have to marry an +heiress.” + +“Whoever gets him will not have a bad husband,” said Lady Laura +Standish. + +Phineas during the summer had very often met Mr. Kennedy. They sat +on the same side of the House, they belonged to the same club, they +dined together more than once in Portman Square, and on one occasion +Phineas had accepted an invitation to dinner sent to him by Mr. +Kennedy himself. “A slower affair I never saw in my life,” he said +afterwards to Laurence Fitzgibbon. “Though there were two or three +men there who talk everywhere else, they could not talk at his +table.” “He gave you good wine, I should say,” said Fitzgibbon, “and +let me tell you that that covers a multitude of sins.” In spite, +however, of all these opportunities for intimacy, now, nearly at +the end of the session, Phineas had hardly spoken a dozen words to +Mr. Kennedy, and really knew nothing whatsoever of the man, as one +friend,--or even as one acquaintance knows another. Lady Laura had +desired him to be on good terms with Mr. Kennedy, and for that reason +he had dined with him. Nevertheless he disliked Mr. Kennedy, and felt +quite sure that Mr. Kennedy disliked him. He was therefore rather +surprised when he received the following note:-- + + + Albany, Z 3, July 17, 186--. + + MY DEAR MR. FINN, + + I shall have some friends at Loughlinter next month, and + should be very glad if you will join us. I will name the + 16th August. I don’t know whether you shoot, but there are + grouse and deer. + + Yours truly, + + ROBERT KENNEDY. + + +What was he to do? He had already begun to feel rather uncomfortable +at the prospect of being separated from all his new friends as soon +as the session should be over. Laurence Fitzgibbon had asked him to +make another visit to county Mayo, but that he had declined. Lady +Laura had said something to him about going abroad with her brother, +and since that there had sprung up a sort of intimacy between him and +Lord Chiltern; but nothing had been fixed about this foreign trip, +and there were pecuniary objections to it which put it almost out of +his power. The Christmas holidays he would of course pass with his +family at Killaloe, but he hardly liked the idea of hurrying off to +Killaloe immediately the session should be over. Everybody around +him seemed to be looking forward to pleasant leisure doings in the +country. Men talked about grouse, and of the ladies at the houses to +which they were going and of the people whom they were to meet. Lady +Laura had said nothing of her own movements for the early autumn, and +no invitation had come to him to go to the Earl’s country house. He +had already felt that every one would depart and that he would be +left,--and this had made him uncomfortable. What was he to do with +the invitation from Mr. Kennedy? He disliked the man, and had told +himself half a dozen times that he despised him. Of course he must +refuse it. Even for the sake of the scenery, and the grouse, and the +pleasant party, and the feeling that going to Loughlinter in August +would be the proper sort of thing to do, he must refuse it! But it +occurred to him at last that he would call in Portman Square before +he wrote his note. + +“Of course you will go,” said Lady Laura, in her most decided tone. + +“And why?” + +“In the first place it is civil in him to ask you, and why should you +be uncivil in return?” + +“There is nothing uncivil in not accepting a man’s invitation,” said +Phineas. + +“We are going,” said Lady Laura, “and I can only say that I shall be +disappointed if you do not go too. Both Mr. Gresham and Mr. Monk will +be there, and I believe they have never stayed together in the same +house before. I have no doubt there are a dozen men on your side of +the House who would give their eyes to be there. Of course you will +go.” + +Of course he did go. The note accepting Mr. Kennedy’s invitation was +written at the Reform Club within a quarter of an hour of his leaving +Portman Square. He was very careful in writing to be not more +familiar or more civil than Mr. Kennedy had been to himself, and +then he signed himself “Yours truly, Phineas Finn.” But another +proposition was made to him, and a most charming proposition, during +the few minutes that he remained in Portman Square. “I am so glad,” +said Lady Laura, “because I can now ask you to run down to us at +Saulsby for a couple of days on your way to Loughlinter. Till this +was fixed I couldn’t ask you to come all the way to Saulsby for two +days; and there won’t be room for more between our leaving London +and starting to Loughlinter.” Phineas swore that he would have gone +if it had been but for one hour, and if Saulsby had been twice the +distance. “Very well; come on the 13th and go on the 15th. You must +go on the 15th, unless you choose to stay with the housekeeper. +And remember, Mr. Finn, we have got no grouse at Saulsby.” Phineas +declared that he did not care a straw for grouse. + +There was another little occurrence which happened before Phineas +left London, and which was not altogether so charming as his +prospects at Saulsby and Loughlinter. Early in August, when the +session was still incomplete, he dined with Laurence Fitzgibbon at +the Reform Club. Laurence had specially invited him to do so, and +made very much of him on the occasion. “By George, my dear fellow,” +Laurence said to him that morning, “nothing has happened to me this +session that has given me so much pleasure as your being in the +House. Of course there are fellows with whom one is very intimate and +of whom one is very fond,--and all that sort of thing. But most of +these Englishmen on our side are such cold fellows; or else they are +like Ratler and Barrington Erle, thinking of nothing but politics. +And then as to our own men, there are so many of them one can hardly +trust! That’s the truth of it. Your being in the House has been such +a comfort to me!” Phineas, who really liked his friend Laurence, +expressed himself very warmly in answer to this, and became +affectionate, and made sundry protestations of friendship which were +perfectly sincere. Their sincerity was tested after dinner, when +Fitzgibbon, as they two were seated on a sofa in the corner of the +smoking-room, asked Phineas to put his name to the back of a bill for +two hundred and fifty pounds at six months’ date. + +“But, my dear Laurence,” said Phineas, “two hundred and fifty pounds +is a sum of money utterly beyond my reach.” + +“Exactly, my dear boy, and that’s why I’ve come to you. D’ye think +I’d have asked anybody who by any impossibility might have been made +to pay anything for me?” + +“But what’s the use of it then?” + +“All the use in the world. It’s for me to judge of the use, you know. +Why, d’ye think I’d ask it if it wasn’t any use? I’ll make it of use, +my boy. And take my word, you’ll never hear about it again. It’s just +a forestalling of my salary; that’s all. I wouldn’t do it till I saw +that we were at least safe for six months to come.” Then Phineas Finn +with many misgivings, with much inward hatred of himself for his own +weakness, did put his name on the back of the bill which Laurence +Fitzgibbon had prepared for his signature. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Saulsby Wood + + +“So you won’t come to Moydrum again?” said Laurence Fitzgibbon to his +friend. + +“Not this autumn, Laurence. Your father would think that I want to +live there.” + +“Bedad, it’s my father would be glad to see you,--and the oftener the +better.” + +“The fact is, my time is filled up.” + +“You’re not going to be one of the party at Loughlinter?” + +“I believe I am. Kennedy asked me, and people seem to think that +everybody is to do what he bids them.” + +“I should think so too. I wish he had asked me. I should have thought +it as good as a promise of an under-secretaryship. All the Cabinet +are to be there. I don’t suppose he ever had an Irishman in his house +before. When do you start?” + +“Well;--on the 12th or 13th. I believe I shall go to Saulsby on my +way.” + +“The devil you will. Upon my word, Phineas, my boy, you’re the +luckiest fellow I know. This is your first year, and you’re asked to +the two most difficult houses in England. You have only to look out +for an heiress now. There is little Vi Effingham;--she is sure to be +at Saulsby. Good-bye, old fellow. Don’t you be in the least unhappy +about the bill. I’ll see to making that all right.” + +Phineas was rather unhappy about the bill; but there was so much that +was pleasant in his cup at the present moment, that he resolved, as +far as possible, to ignore the bitter of that one ingredient. He was +a little in the dark as to two or three matters respecting these +coming visits. He would have liked to have taken a servant with him; +but he had no servant, and felt ashamed to hire one for the occasion. +And then he was in trouble about a gun, and the paraphernalia of +shooting. He was not a bad shot at snipe in the bogs of county Clare, +but he had never even seen a gun used in England. However, he bought +himself a gun,--with other paraphernalia, and took a license for +himself, and then groaned over the expense to which he found that his +journey would subject him. And at last he hired a servant for the +occasion. He was intensely ashamed of himself when he had done so, +hating himself, and telling himself that he was going to the devil +headlong. And why had he done it? Not that Lady Laura would like him +the better, or that she would care whether he had a servant or not. +She probably would know nothing of his servant. But the people about +her would know, and he was foolishly anxious that the people about +her should think that he was worthy of her. + +Then he called on Mr. Low before he started. “I did not like to leave +London without seeing you,” he said; “but I know you will have +nothing pleasant to say to me.” + +“I shall say nothing unpleasant certainly. I see your name in the +divisions, and I feel a sort of envy myself.” + +“Any fool could go into a lobby,” said Phineas. + +“To tell you the truth, I have been gratified to see that you have +had the patience to abstain from speaking till you had looked about +you. It was more than I expected from your hot Irish blood. Going +to meet Mr. Gresham and Mr. Monk,--are you? Well, I hope you may +meet them in the Cabinet some day. Mind you come and see me when +Parliament meets in February.” + +Mrs. Bunce was delighted when she found that Phineas had hired a +servant; but Mr. Bunce predicted nothing but evil from so vain an +expense. “Don’t tell me; where is it to come from? He ain’t no +richer because he’s in Parliament. There ain’t no wages. M.P. and +M.T.,”--whereby Mr. Bunce, I fear, meant empty,--“are pretty much +alike when a man hasn’t a fortune at his back.” “But he’s going to +stay with all the lords in the Cabinet,” said Mrs. Bunce, to whom +Phineas, in his pride, had confided perhaps more than was necessary. +“Cabinet, indeed,” said Bunce; “if he’d stick to chambers, and let +alone cabinets, he’d do a deal better. Given up his rooms, has +he,--till February? He don’t expect we’re going to keep them empty +for him!” + +Phineas found that the house was full at Saulsby, although the +sojourn of the visitors would necessarily be so short. There +were three or four there on their way on to Loughlinter, like +himself,--Mr. Bonteen and Mr. Ratler, with Mr. Palliser, the +Chancellor of the Exchequer, and his wife,--and there was Violet +Effingham, who, however, was not going to Loughlinter. “No, indeed,” +she said to our hero, who on the first evening had the pleasure +of taking her in to dinner, “unfortunately I haven’t a seat in +Parliament, and therefore I am not asked.” + +“Lady Laura is going.” + +“Yes;--but Lady Laura has a Cabinet Minister in her keeping. I’ve +only one comfort;--you’ll be awfully dull.” + +“I daresay it would be very much nicer to stay here,” said Phineas. + +“If you want to know my real mind,” said Violet, “I would give one of +my little fingers to go. There will be four Cabinet Ministers in the +house, and four un-Cabinet Ministers, and half a dozen other members +of Parliament, and there will be Lady Glencora Palliser, who is the +best fun in the world; and, in point of fact, it’s the thing of the +year. But I am not asked. You see I belong to the Baldock faction, +and we don’t sit on your side of the House. Mr. Kennedy thinks that I +should tell secrets.” + +Why on earth had Mr. Kennedy invited him, Phineas Finn, to meet four +Cabinet Ministers and Lady Glencora Palliser? He could only have done +so at the instance of Lady Laura Standish. It was delightful for +Phineas to think that Lady Laura cared for him so deeply; but it was +not equally delightful when he remembered how very close must be +the alliance between Mr. Kennedy and Lady Laura, when she was thus +powerful with him. + +At Saulsby Phineas did not see much of his hostess. When they were +making their plans for the one entire day of this visit, she said a +soft word of apology to him. “I am so busy with all these people, +that I hardly know what I am doing. But we shall be able to find a +quiet minute or two at Loughlinter,--unless, indeed, you intend to +be on the mountains all day. I suppose you have brought a gun like +everybody else?” + +“Yes;--I have brought a gun. I do shoot; but I am not an inveterate +sportsman.” + +On that one day there was a great riding party made up, and Phineas +found himself mounted, after luncheon, with some dozen other +equestrians. Among them were Miss Effingham and Lady Glencora, Mr. +Ratler and the Earl of Brentford himself. Lady Glencora, whose +husband was, as has been said, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and who +was still a young woman, and a very pretty woman, had taken lately +very strongly to politics, which she discussed among men and women +of both parties with something more than ordinary audacity. “What a +nice, happy, lazy time you’ve had of it since you’ve been in,” said +she to the Earl. + +“I hope we have been more happy than lazy,” said the Earl. + +“But you’ve done nothing. Mr. Palliser has twenty schemes of reform, +all mature; but among you you’ve not let him bring in one of them. +The Duke and Mr. Mildmay and you will break his heart among you.” + +“Poor Mr. Palliser!” + +“The truth is, if you don’t take care he and Mr. Monk and Mr. Gresham +will arise and shake themselves, and turn you all out.” + +“We must look to ourselves, Lady Glencora.” + +“Indeed, yes;--or you will be known to all posterity as the fainéant +government.” + +“Let me tell you, Lady Glencora, that a fainéant government is not +the worst government that England can have. It has been the great +fault of our politicians that they have all wanted to do something.” + +“Mr. Mildmay is at any rate innocent of that charge,” said Lady +Glencora. + +They were now riding through a vast wood, and Phineas found himself +delightfully established by the side of Violet Effingham. “Mr. Ratler +has been explaining to me that he must have nineteen next session. +Now, if I were you, Mr. Finn, I would decline to be counted up in +that way as one of Mr. Ratler’s sheep.” + +“But what am I to do?” + +“Do something on your own hook. You men in Parliament are so much +like sheep! If one jumps at a gap, all go after him,--and then you +are penned into lobbies, and then you are fed, and then you are +fleeced. I wish I were in Parliament. I’d get up in the middle and +make such a speech. You all seem to me to be so much afraid of one +another that you don’t quite dare to speak out. Do you see that +cottage there?” + +“What a pretty cottage it is!” + +“Yes;--is it not? Twelve years ago I took off my shoes and stockings +and had them dried in that cottage, and when I got back to the house +I was put to bed for having been out all day in the wood.” + +“Were you wandering about alone?” + +“No, I wasn’t alone. Oswald Standish was with me. We were children +then. Do you know him?” + +“Lord Chiltern;--yes, I know him. He and I have been rather friends +this year.” + +“He is very good;--is he not?” + +“Good,--in what way?” + +“Honest and generous!” + +“I know no man whom I believe to be more so.” + +“And he is clever?” asked Miss Effingham. + +“Very clever. That is, he talks very well if you will let him talk +after his own fashion. You would always fancy that he was going to +eat you;--but that is his way.” + +“And you like him?” + +“Very much.” + +“I am so glad to hear you say so.” + +“Is he a favourite of yours, Miss Effingham?” + +“Not now,--not particularly. I hardly ever see him. But his sister is +the best friend I have, and I used to like him so much when he was a +boy! I have not seen that cottage since that day, and I remember it +as though it were yesterday. Lord Chiltern is quite changed, is he +not?” + +“Changed,--in what way?” + +“They used to say that he was--unsteady you know.” + +“I think he is changed. But Chiltern is at heart a Bohemian. It is +impossible not to see that at once. He hates the decencies of life.” + +“I suppose he does,” said Violet. “He ought to marry. If he were +married, that would all be cured;--don’t you think so?” + +“I cannot fancy him with a wife,” said Phineas, “There is a savagery +about him which would make him an uncomfortable companion for a +woman.” + +“But he would love his wife?” + +“Yes, as he does his horses. And he would treat her well,--as he does +his horses. But he expects every horse he has to do anything that any +horse can do; and he would expect the same of his wife.” + +Phineas had no idea how deep an injury he might be doing his friend +by this description, nor did it once occur to him that his companion +was thinking of herself as the possible wife of this Red Indian. Miss +Effingham rode on in silence for some distance, and then she said +but one word more about Lord Chiltern. “He was so good to me in that +cottage.” + +On the following day the party at Saulsby was broken up, and there +was a regular pilgrimage towards Loughlinter. Phineas resolved upon +sleeping a night at Edinburgh on his way, and he found himself joined +in the bands of close companionship with Mr. Ratler for the occasion. +The evening was by no means thrown away, for he learned much of his +trade from Mr. Ratler. And Mr. Ratler was heard to declare afterwards +at Loughlinter that Mr. Finn was a pleasant young man. + +It soon came to be admitted by all who knew Phineas Finn that he had +a peculiar power of making himself agreeable which no one knew how to +analyse or define. “I think it is because he listens so well,” said +one man. “But the women would not like him for that,” said another. +“He has studied when to listen and when to talk,” said a third. The +truth, however, was, that Phineas Finn had made no study in the +matter at all. It was simply his nature to be pleasant. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Loughlinter + + +Phineas Finn reached Loughlinter together with Mr. Ratler in a +post-chaise from the neighbouring town. Mr. Ratler, who had done this +kind of thing very often before, travelled without impediments, but +the new servant of our hero’s was stuck outside with the driver, and +was in the way. “I never bring a man with me,” said Mr. Ratler to his +young friend. “The servants of the house like it much better, because +they get fee’d; you are just as well waited on, and it don’t cost +half as much.” Phineas blushed as he heard all this; but there was +the impediment, not to be got rid of for the nonce, and Phineas made +the best of his attendant. “It’s one of those points,” said he, “as +to which a man never quite makes up his mind. If you bring a fellow, +you wish you hadn’t brought him; and if you don’t, you wish you had.” +“I’m a great deal more decided in my ways that that,” said Mr. +Ratler. + +Loughlinter, as they approached it, seemed to Phineas to be a much +finer place than Saulsby. And so it was, except that Loughlinter +wanted that graceful beauty of age which Saulsby possessed. +Loughlinter was all of cut stone, but the stones had been cut only +yesterday. It stood on a gentle slope, with a greensward falling from +the front entrance down to a mountain lake. And on the other side of +the Lough there rose a mighty mountain to the skies, Ben Linter. At +the foot of it, and all round to the left, there ran the woods of +Linter, stretching for miles through crags and bogs and mountain +lands. No better ground for deer than the side of Ben Linter was +there in all those highlands. And the Linter, rushing down into the +Lough through rocks which, in some places, almost met together above +its waters, ran so near to the house that the pleasant noise of its +cataracts could be heard from the hall door. Behind the house the +expanse of drained park land seemed to be interminable; and then, +again, came the mountains. There were Ben Linn and Ben Lody;--and +the whole territory belonging to Mr. Kennedy. He was laird of Linn +and laird of Linter, as his people used to say. And yet his father +had walked into Glasgow as a little boy,--no doubt with the normal +half-crown in his breeches pocket. + +“Magnificent;--is it not?” said Phineas to the Treasury Secretary, +as they were being driven up to the door. + +“Very grand;--but the young trees show the new man. A new man may buy +a forest; but he can’t get park trees.” + +Phineas, at the moment, was thinking how far all these things which +he saw, the mountains stretching everywhere around him, the castle, +the lake, the river, the wealth of it all, and, more than the wealth, +the nobility of the beauty, might act as temptations to Lady Laura +Standish. If a woman were asked to have the half of all this, would +it be possible that she should prefer to take the half of his +nothing? He thought it might be possible for a girl who would +confess, or seem to confess, that love should be everything. But it +could hardly be possible for a woman who looked at the world almost +as a man looked at it,--as an oyster to be opened with such weapon +as she could find ready to her hand. Lady Laura professed to have a +care for all the affairs of the world. She loved politics, and could +talk of social science, and had broad ideas about religion, and was +devoted to certain educational views. Such a woman would feel that +wealth was necessary to her, and would be willing, for the sake of +wealth, to put up with a husband without romance. Nay; might it not +be that she would prefer a husband without romance? Thus Phineas was +arguing to himself as he was driven up to the door of Loughlinter +Castle, while Mr. Ratler was eloquent on the beauty of old park +trees. “After all, a Scotch forest is a very scrubby sort of thing,” +said Mr. Ratler. + +There was nobody in the house,--at least, they found nobody; and +within half an hour Phineas was walking about the grounds by himself. +Mr. Ratler had declared himself to be delighted at having an +opportunity of writing letters,--and no doubt was writing them by +the dozen, all dated from Loughlinter, and all detailing the facts +that Mr. Gresham, and Mr. Monk, and Plantagenet Palliser, and Lord +Brentford were in the same house with him. Phineas had no letters to +write, and therefore rushed down across the broad lawn to the river, +of which he heard the noisy tumbling waters. There was something in +the air which immediately filled him with high spirits; and, in his +desire to investigate the glories of the place, he forgot that he was +going to dine with four Cabinet Ministers in a row. He soon reached +the stream, and began to make his way up it through the ravine. There +was waterfall over waterfall, and there were little bridges here and +there which looked to be half natural and half artificial, and a path +which required that you should climb, but which was yet a path, and +all was so arranged that not a pleasant splashing rush of the waters +was lost to the visitor. He went on and on, up the stream, till there +was a sharp turn in the ravine, and then, looking upwards, he saw +above his head a man and a woman standing together on one of the +little half-made wooden bridges. His eyes were sharp, and he saw at a +glance that the woman was Lady Laura Standish. He had not recognised +the man, but he had very little doubt that it was Mr. Kennedy. Of +course it was Mr. Kennedy, because he would prefer that it should be +any other man under the sun. He would have turned back at once if he +had thought that he could have done so without being observed; but he +felt sure that, standing as they were, they must have observed him. +He did not like to join them. He would not intrude himself. So he +remained still, and began to throw stones into the river. But he had +not thrown above a stone or two when he was called from above. He +looked up, and then he perceived that the man who called him was his +host. Of course it was Mr. Kennedy. Thereupon he ceased to throw +stones, and went up the path, and joined them upon the bridge. Mr. +Kennedy stepped forward, and bade him welcome to Loughlinter. His +manner was less cold, and he seemed to have more words at command +than was usual with him. “You have not been long,” he said, “in +finding out the most beautiful spot about the place.” + +“Is it not lovely?” said Laura. “We have not been here an hour yet, +and Mr. Kennedy insisted on bringing me here.” + +“It is wonderfully beautiful,” said Phineas. + +“It is this very spot where we now stand that made me build the house +where it is,” said Mr. Kennedy, “and I was only eighteen when I stood +here and made up my mind. That is just twenty-five years ago.” “So he +is forty-three,” said Phineas to himself, thinking how glorious it +was to be only twenty-five. “And within twelve months,” continued Mr. +Kennedy, “the foundations were being dug and the stone-cutters were +at work.” + +“What a good-natured man your father must have been,” said Lady +Laura. + +“He had nothing else to do with his money but to pour it over my +head, as it were. I don’t think he had any other enjoyment of it +himself. Will you go a little higher, Lady Laura? We shall get a fine +view over to Ben Linn just now.” Lady Laura declared that she would +go as much higher as he chose to take her, and Phineas was rather in +doubt as to what it would become him to do. He would stay where he +was, or go down, or make himself to vanish after any most acceptable +fashion; but if he were to do so abruptly it would seem as though he +were attributing something special to the companionship of the other +two. Mr. Kennedy saw his doubt, and asked him to join them. “You may +as well come on, Mr. Finn. We don’t dine till eight, and it is not +much past six yet. The men of business are all writing letters, and +the ladies who have been travelling are in bed, I believe.” + +“Not all of them, Mr. Kennedy,” said Lady Laura. Then they went +on with their walk very pleasantly, and the lord of all that they +surveyed took them from one point of vantage to another, till they +both swore that of all spots upon the earth Loughlinter was surely +the most lovely. “I do delight in it, I own,” said the lord. “When +I come up here alone, and feel that in the midst of this little bit +of a crowded island I have all this to myself,--all this with which +no other man’s wealth can interfere,--I grow proud of my own, till +I become thoroughly ashamed of myself. After all, I believe it is +better to dwell in cities than in the country,--better, at any rate, +for a rich man.” Mr. Kennedy had now spoken more words than Phineas +had heard to fall from his lips during the whole time that they had +been acquainted with each other. + +“I believe so too,” said Laura, “if one were obliged to choose +between the two. For myself, I think that a little of both is good +for man and woman.” + +“There is no doubt about that,” said Phineas. + +“No doubt as far as enjoyment goes,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +He took them up out of the ravine on to the side of the mountain, and +then down by another path through the woods to the back of the house. +As they went he relapsed into his usual silence, and the conversation +was kept up between the other two. At a point not very far from the +castle,--just so far that one could see by the break of the ground +where the castle stood, Kennedy left them. “Mr. Finn will take you +back in safety, I am sure,” said he, “and, as I am here, I’ll go up +to the farm for a moment. If I don’t show myself now and again when I +am here, they think I’m indifferent about the ‘bestials’.” + +“Now, Mr. Kennedy,” said Lady Laura, “you are going to pretend to +understand all about sheep and oxen.” Mr. Kennedy, owning that it +was so, went away to his farm, and Phineas with Lady Laura returned +towards the house. “I think, upon the whole,” said Lady Laura, “that +that is as good a man as I know.” + +“I should think he is an idle one,” said Phineas. + +“I doubt that. He is, perhaps, neither zealous nor active. But he is +thoughtful and high-principled, and has a method and a purpose in the +use which he makes of his money. And you see that he has poetry in +his nature too, if you get him upon the right string. How fond he is +of the scenery of this place!” + +“Any man would be fond of that. I’m ashamed to say that it almost +makes me envy him. I certainly never have wished to be Mr. Robert +Kennedy in London, but I should like to be the Laird of Loughlinter.” + +“‘Laird of Linn and Laird of Linter,--Here in summer, gone in +winter.’ There is some ballad about the old lairds; but that belongs +to a time when Mr. Kennedy had not been heard of, when some branch of +the Mackenzies lived down at that wretched old tower which you see as +you first come upon the lake. When old Mr. Kennedy bought it there +were hardly a hundred acres on the property under cultivation.” + +“And it belonged to the Mackenzies.” + +“Yes;--to the Mackenzie of Linn, as he was called. It was Mr. +Kennedy, the old man, who was first called Loughlinter. That is +Linn Castle, and they lived there for hundreds of years. But these +Highlanders, with all that is said of their family pride, have +forgotten the Mackenzies already, and are quite proud of their rich +landlord.” + +“That is unpoetical,” said Phineas. + +“Yes;--but then poetry is so usually false. I doubt whether Scotland +would not have been as prosaic a country as any under the sun but for +Walter Scott;--and I have no doubt that Henry V owes the romance of +his character altogether to Shakspeare.” + +“I sometimes think you despise poetry,” said Phineas. + +“When it is false I do. The difficulty is to know when it is false +and when it is true. Tom Moore was always false.” + +“Not so false as Byron,” said Phineas with energy. + +“Much more so, my friend. But we will not discuss that now. Have you +seen Mr. Monk since you have been here?” + +“I have seen no one. I came with Mr. Ratler.” + +“Why with Mr. Ratler? You cannot find Mr. Ratler a companion much to +your taste.” + +“Chance brought us together. But Mr. Ratler is a man of sense, Lady +Laura, and is not to be despised.” + +“It always seems to me,” said Lady Laura, “that nothing is to be +gained in politics by sitting at the feet of the little Gamaliels.” + +“But the great Gamaliels will not have a novice on their footstools.” + +“Then sit at no man’s feet. Is it not astonishing that the price +generally put upon any article by the world is that which the owner +puts on it?--and that this is specially true of a man’s own self? If +you herd with Ratler, men will take it for granted that you are a +Ratlerite, and no more. If you consort with Greshams and Pallisers, +you will equally be supposed to know your own place.” + +“I never knew a Mentor,” said Phineas, “so apt as you are to fill his +Telemachus with pride.” + +“It is because I do not think your fault lies that way. If it did, +or if I thought so, my Telemachus, you may be sure that I should +resign my position as Mentor. Here are Mr. Kennedy and Lady Glencora +and Mrs. Gresham on the steps.” Then they went up through the Ionic +columns on to the broad stone terrace before the door, and there they +found a crowd of men and women. For the legislators and statesmen had +written their letters, and the ladies had taken their necessary rest. + +Phineas, as he was dressing, considered deeply all that Lady Laura +had said to him,--not so much with reference to the advice which she +had given him, though that also was of importance, as to the fact +that it had been given by her. She had first called herself his +Mentor; but he had accepted the name and had addressed her as her +Telemachus. And yet he believed himself to be older than she,--if, +indeed, there was any difference in their ages. And was it possible +that a female Mentor should love her Telemachus,--should love him as +Phineas desired to be loved by Lady Laura? He would not say that it +was impossible. Perhaps there had been mistakes between them;--a +mistake in his manner of addressing her, and another in hers of +addressing him. Perhaps the old bachelor of forty-three was not +thinking of a wife. Had this old bachelor of forty-three been really +in love with Lady Laura, would he have allowed her to walk home alone +with Phineas, leaving her with some flimsy pretext of having to look +at his sheep? Phineas resolved that he must at any rate play out his +game,--whether he were to lose it or to win it; and in playing it he +must, if possible, drop something of that Mentor and Telemachus style +of conversation. As to the advice given him of herding with Greshams +and Pallisers, instead of with Ratlers and Fitzgibbons,--he must use +that as circumstances might direct. To him, himself, as he thought +of it all, it was sufficiently astonishing that even the Ratlers and +Fitzgibbons should admit him among them as one of themselves. “When +I think of my father and of the old house at Killaloe, and remember +that hitherto I have done nothing myself, I cannot understand how +it is that I should be at Loughlinter.” There was only one way of +understanding it. If Lady Laura really loved him, the riddle might +be read. + +The rooms at Loughlinter were splendid, much larger and very much +more richly furnished than those at Saulsby. But there was a certain +stiffness in the movement of things, and perhaps in the manner of +some of those present, which was not felt at Saulsby. Phineas at +once missed the grace and prettiness and cheery audacity of Violet +Effingham, and felt at the same time that Violet Effingham would be +out of her element at Loughlinter. At Loughlinter they were met for +business. It was at least a semi-political, or perhaps rather a +semi-official gathering, and he became aware that he ought not to +look simply for amusement. When he entered the drawing-room before +dinner, Mr. Monk and Mr. Palliser, and Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Gresham, +with sundry others, were standing in a wide group before the +fireplace, and among them were Lady Glencora Palliser and Lady Laura +and Mrs. Bonteen. As he approached them it seemed as though a sort +of opening was made for himself; but he could see, though others did +not, that the movement came from Lady Laura. + +“I believe, Mr. Monk,” said Lady Glencora, “that you and I are the +only two in the whole party who really know what we would be at.” + +“If I must be divided from so many of my friends,” said Mr. Monk, “I +am happy to go astray in the company of Lady Glencora Palliser.” + +“And might I ask,” said Mr. Gresham, with a peculiar smile for which +he was famous, “what it is that you and Mr. Monk are really at?” + +“Making men and women all equal,” said Lady Glencora. “That I take to +be the gist of our political theory.” + +“Lady Glencora, I must cry off,” said Mr. Monk. + +“Yes;--no doubt. If I were in the Cabinet myself I should not admit +so much. There are reticences,--of course. And there is an official +discretion.” + +“But you don’t mean to say, Lady Glencora, that you would really +advocate equality?” said Mrs. Bonteen. + +“I do mean to say so, Mrs. Bonteen. And I mean to go further, and to +tell you that you are no Liberal at heart unless you do so likewise; +unless that is the basis of your political aspirations.” + +“Pray let me speak for myself, Lady Glencora.” + +“By no means,--not when you are criticising me and my politics. Do +you not wish to make the lower orders comfortable?” + +“Certainly,” said Mrs. Bonteen. + +“And educated, and happy and good?” + +“Undoubtedly.” + +“To make them as comfortable and as good as yourself?” + +“Better if possible.” + +“And I’m sure you wish to make yourself as good and as comfortable as +anybody else,--as those above you, if anybody is above you? You will +admit that?” + +“Yes;--if I understand you.” + +“Then you have admitted everything, and are an advocate for general +equality,--just as Mr. Monk is, and as I am. There is no getting out +of it;--is there, Mr. Kennedy?” Then dinner was announced, and Mr. +Kennedy walked off with the French Republican on his arm. As she +went, she whispered into Mr. Kennedy’s ear, “You will understand +me. I am not saying that people are equal; but that the tendency +of all law-making and of all governing should be to reduce the +inequalities.” In answer to which Mr. Kennedy said not a word. Lady +Glencora’s politics were too fast and furious for his nature. + +A week passed by at Loughlinter, at the end of which Phineas found +himself on terms of friendly intercourse with all the political +magnates assembled in the house, but especially with Mr. Monk. He had +determined that he would not follow Lady Laura’s advice as to his +selection of companions, if in doing so he should be driven even to +a seeming of intrusion. He made no attempt to sit at the feet of +anybody, and would stand aloof when bigger men than himself were +talking, and was content to be less,--as indeed he was less,--than +Mr. Bonteen or Mr. Ratler. But at the end of a week he found that, +without any effort on his part,--almost in opposition to efforts on +his part,--he had fallen into an easy pleasant way with these men +which was very delightful to him. He had killed a stag in company +with Mr. Palliser, and had stopped beneath a crag to discuss with him +a question as to the duty on Irish malt. He had played chess with Mr. +Gresham, and had been told that gentleman’s opinion on the trial of +Mr. Jefferson Davis. Lord Brentford had--at last--called him Finn, +and had proved to him that nothing was known in Ireland about sheep. +But with Mr. Monk he had had long discussions on abstract questions +in politics,--and before the week was over was almost disposed to +call himself a disciple, or, at least, a follower of Mr. Monk. Why +not of Mr. Monk as well as of any one else? Mr. Monk was in the +Cabinet, and of all the members of the Cabinet was the most advanced +Liberal. “Lady Glencora was not so far wrong the other night,” Mr. +Monk said to him. “Equality is an ugly word and shouldn’t be used. It +misleads, and frightens, and is a bugbear. And she, in using it, had +not perhaps a clearly defined meaning for it in her own mind. But +the wish of every honest man should be to assist in lifting up those +below him, till they be something nearer his own level than he finds +them.” To this Phineas assented,--and by degrees he found himself +assenting to a great many things that Mr. Monk said to him. + +Mr. Monk was a thin, tall, gaunt man, who had devoted his whole life +to politics, hitherto without any personal reward beyond that which +came to him from the reputation of his name, and from the honour of +a seat in Parliament. He was one of four or five brothers,--and all +besides him were in trade. They had prospered in trade, whereas he +had prospered solely in politics; and men said that he was dependent +altogether on what his relatives supplied for his support. He had now +been in Parliament for more than twenty years, and had been known not +only as a Radical but as a Democrat. Ten years since, when he had +risen to fame, but not to repute, among the men who then governed +England, nobody dreamed that Joshua Monk would ever be a paid servant +of the Crown. He had inveighed against one minister after another +as though they all deserved impeachment. He had advocated political +doctrines which at that time seemed to be altogether at variance +with any possibility of governing according to English rules of +government. He had been regarded as a pestilent thorn in the sides of +all ministers. But now he was a member of the Cabinet, and those whom +he had terrified in the old days began to find that he was not so +much unlike other men. There are but few horses which you cannot put +into harness, and those of the highest spirit will generally do your +work the best. + +Phineas, who had his eyes about him, thought that he could perceive +that Mr. Palliser did not shoot a deer with Mr. Ratler, and that Mr. +Gresham played no chess with Mr. Bonteen. Bonteen, indeed, was a +noisy pushing man whom nobody seemed to like, and Phineas wondered +why he should be at Loughlinter, and why he should be in office. His +friend Laurence Fitzgibbon had indeed once endeavoured to explain +this. “A man who can vote hard, as I call it; and who will speak a +few words now and then as they’re wanted, without any ambition that +way, may always have his price. And if he has a pretty wife into the +bargain, he ought to have a pleasant time of it.” Mr. Ratler no doubt +was a very useful man, who thoroughly knew his business; but yet, +as it seemed to Phineas, no very great distinction was shown to +Mr. Ratler at Loughlinter. “If I got as high as that,” he said to +himself, “I should think myself a miracle of luck. And yet nobody +seems to think anything of Ratler. It is all nothing unless one can +go to the very top.” + +“I believe I did right to accept office,” Mr. Monk said to him one +day, as they sat together on a rock close by one of the little +bridges over the Linter. “Indeed, unless a man does so when the bonds +of the office tendered to him are made compatible with his own views, +he declines to proceed on the open path towards the prosecution of +those views. A man who is combating one ministry after another, and +striving to imbue those ministers with his convictions, can hardly +decline to become a minister himself when he finds that those +convictions of his own are henceforth,--or at least for some time to +come,--to be the ministerial convictions of the day. Do you follow +me?” + +“Very clearly,” said Phineas. “You would have denied your own +children had you refused.” + +“Unless indeed a man were to feel that he was in some way unfitted +for office work. I very nearly provided for myself an escape on that +plea;--but when I came to sift it, I thought that it would be false. +But let me tell you that the delight of political life is altogether +in opposition. Why, it is freedom against slavery, fire against clay, +movement against stagnation! The very inaccuracy which is permitted +to opposition is in itself a charm worth more than all the patronage +and all the prestige of ministerial power. You’ll try them both, and +then say if you do not agree with me. Give me the full swing of the +benches below the gangway, where I needed to care for no one, and +could always enjoy myself on my legs as long as I felt that I was +true to those who sent me there! That is all over now. They have got +me into harness, and my shoulders are sore. The oats, however, are of +the best, and the hay is unexceptionable.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Donald Bean’s Pony + + +Phineas liked being told that the pleasures of opposition and the +pleasures of office were both open to him,--and he liked also to +be the chosen receptacle of Mr. Monk’s confidence. He had come to +understand that he was expected to remain ten days at Loughlinter, +and that then there was to be a general movement. Since the first day +he had seen but little of Mr. Kennedy, but he had found himself very +frequently with Lady Laura. And then had come up the question of his +projected trip to Paris with Lord Chiltern. He had received a letter +from Lord Chiltern. + + + DEAR FINN, + + Are you going to Paris with me? + + Yours, C. + + +There had been not a word beyond this, and before he answered it he +made up his mind to tell Lady Laura the truth. He could not go to +Paris because he had no money. + +“I’ve just got that from your brother,” said he. + +“How like Oswald. He writes to me perhaps three times in the year, +and his letters are just the same. You will go I hope?” + +“Well;--no.” + +“I am sorry for that.” + +“I wonder whether I may tell you the real reason, Lady Laura.” + +“Nay;--I cannot answer that; but unless it be some political secret +between you and Mr. Monk, I should think you might.” + +“I cannot afford to go to Paris this autumn. It seems to be a +shocking admission to make,--though I don’t know why it should be.” + +“Nor I;--but, Mr. Finn, I like you all the better for making it. I +am very sorry, for Oswald’s sake. It’s so hard to find any companion +for him whom he would like and whom we,--that is I,--should think +altogether--; you know what I mean, Mr. Finn.” + +“Your wish that I should go with him is a great compliment, and I +thoroughly wish that I could do it. As it is, I must go to Killaloe +and retrieve my finances. I daresay, Lady Laura, you can hardly +conceive how very poor a man I am.” There was a melancholy tone +about his voice as he said this, which made her think for the moment +whether or no he had been right in going into Parliament, and whether +she had been right in instigating him to do so. But it was too late +to recur to that question now. + +“You must climb into office early, and forego those pleasures of +opposition which are so dear to Mr. Monk,” she said, smiling. “After +all, money is an accident which does not count nearly so high as do +some other things. You and Mr. Kennedy have the same enjoyment of +everything around you here.” + +“Yes; while it lasts.” + +“And Lady Glencora and I stand pretty much on the same footing, in +spite of all her wealth,--except that she is a married woman. I do +not know what she is worth,--something not to be counted; and I am +worth,--just what papa chooses to give me. A ten-pound note at the +present moment I should look upon as great riches.” This was the +first time she had ever spoken to him of her own position as regards +money; but he had heard, or thought that he had heard, that she had +been left a fortune altogether independent of her father. + +The last of the ten days had now come, and Phineas was discontented +and almost unhappy. The more he saw of Lady Laura the more he feared +that it was impossible that she should become his wife. And yet from +day to day his intimacy with her became more close. He had never made +love to her, nor could he discover that it was possible for him to +do so. She seemed to be a woman for whom all the ordinary stages of +love-making were quite unsuitable. Of course he could declare his +love and ask her to be his wife on any occasion on which he might +find himself to be alone with her. And on this morning he had made +up his mind that he would do so before the day was over. It might +be possible that she would never speak to him again;--that all the +pleasures and ambitious hopes to which she had introduced him might +be over as soon as that rash word should have been spoken! But, +nevertheless, he would speak it. + +On this day there was to be a grouse-shooting party, and the shooters +were to be out early. It had been talked of for some day or two past, +and Phineas knew that he could not escape it. There had been some +rivalry between him and Mr. Bonteen, and there was to be a sort of +match as to which of the two would kill most birds before lunch. But +there had also been some half promise on Lady Laura’s part that she +would walk with him up the Linter and come down upon the lake, taking +an opposite direction from that by which they had returned with Mr. +Kennedy. + +“But you will be shooting all day,” she said, when he proposed it to +her as they were starting for the moor. The waggonet that was to take +them was at the door, and she was there to see them start. Her father +was one of the shooting party, and Mr. Kennedy was another. + +“I will undertake to be back in time, if you will not think it too +hot. I shall not see you again till we meet in town next year.” + +“Then I certainly will go with you,--that is to say, if you are here. +But you cannot return without the rest of the party, as you are going +so far.” + +“I’ll get back somehow,” said Phineas, who was resolved that a +few miles more or less of mountain should not detain him from the +prosecution of a task so vitally important to him. “If we start at +five that will be early enough.” + +“Quite early enough,” said Lady Laura. + +Phineas went off to the mountains, and shot his grouse, and won his +match, and eat his luncheon. Mr. Bonteen, however, was not beaten by +much, and was in consequence somewhat ill-humoured. + +“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Mr. Bonteen, “I’ll back myself for +the rest of the day for a ten-pound note.” + +Now there had been no money staked on the match at all,--but it had +been simply a trial of skill, as to which would kill the most birds +in a given time. And the proposition for that trial had come from Mr. +Bonteen himself. “I should not think of shooting for money,” said +Phineas. + +“And why not? A bet is the only way to decide these things.” + +“Partly because I’m sure I shouldn’t hit a bird,” said Phineas, “and +partly because I haven’t got any money to lose.” + +“I hate bets,” said Mr. Kennedy to him afterwards. “I was annoyed +when Bonteen offered the wager. I felt sure, however, you would not +accept it.” + +“I suppose such bets are very common.” + +“I don’t think men ought to propose them unless they are quite +sure of their company. Maybe I’m wrong, and I often feel that I am +strait-laced about such things. It is so odd to me that men cannot +amuse themselves without pitting themselves against each other. When +a man tells me that he can shoot better than I, I tell him that my +keeper can shoot better than he.” + +“All the same, it’s a good thing to excel,” said Phineas. + +“I’m not so sure of that,” said Mr. Kennedy. “A man who can kill more +salmon than anybody else, can rarely do anything else. Are you going +on with your match?” + +“No; I’m going to make my way to Loughlinter.” + +“Not alone?” + +“Yes, alone.” + +“It’s over nine miles. You can’t walk it.” + +Phineas looked at his watch, and found that it was now two o’clock. +It was a broiling day in August, and the way back to Loughlinter, for +six or seven out of the nine miles, would be along a high road. “I +must do it all the same,” said he, preparing for a start. “I have an +engagement with Lady Laura Standish; and as this is the last day that +I shall see her, I certainly do not mean to break it.” + +“An engagement with Lady Laura,” said Mr. Kennedy. “Why did you not +tell me, that I might have a pony ready? But come along. Donald Bean +has a pony. He’s not much bigger than a dog, but he’ll carry you to +Loughlinter.” + +“I can walk it, Mr. Kennedy.” + +“Yes; and think of the state in which you’d reach Loughlinter! Come +along with me.” + +“But I can’t take you off the mountain,” said Phineas. + +“Then you must allow me to take you off.” + +So Mr. Kennedy led the way down to Donald Bean’s cottage, and before +three o’clock Phineas found himself mounted on a shaggy steed, which, +in sober truth, was not much bigger than a large dog. “If Mr. Kennedy +is really my rival,” said Phineas to himself, as he trotted along, “I +almost think that I am doing an unhandsome thing in taking the pony.” + +At five o’clock he was under the portico before the front door, and +there he found Lady Laura waiting for him,--waiting for him, or at +least ready for him. She had on her hat and gloves and light shawl, +and her parasol was in her hand. He thought that he had never seen +her look so young, so pretty, and so fit to receive a lover’s vows. +But at the same moment it occurred to him that she was Lady Laura +Standish, the daughter of an Earl, the descendant of a line of +Earls,--and that he was the son of a simple country doctor in +Ireland. Was it fitting that he should ask such a woman to be his +wife? But then Mr. Kennedy was the son of a man who had walked into +Glasgow with half-a-crown in his pocket. Mr. Kennedy’s grandfather +had been,--Phineas thought that he had heard that Mr. Kennedy’s +grandfather had been a Scotch drover; whereas his own grandfather +had been a little squire near Ennistimon, in county Clare, and his +own first cousin once removed still held the paternal acres at Finn +Grove. His family was supposed to be descended from kings in that +part of Ireland. It certainly did not become him to fear Lady Laura +on the score of rank, if it was to be allowed to Mr. Kennedy to +proceed without fear on that head. As to wealth, Lady Laura had +already told him that her fortune was no greater than his. Her +statement to himself on that head made him feel that he should not +hesitate on the score of money. They neither had any, and he was +willing to work for both. If she feared the risk, let her say so. + +It was thus that he argued with himself; but yet he knew,--knew as +well as the reader will know,--that he was going to do that which he +had no right to do. It might be very well for him to wait,--presuming +him to be successful in his love,--for the opening of that oyster +with his political sword, that oyster on which he proposed that they +should both live; but such waiting could not well be to the taste +of Lady Laura Standish. It could hardly be pleasant to her to look +forward to his being made a junior lord or an assistant secretary +before she could establish herself in her home. So he told himself. +And yet he told himself at the same time that it was incumbent on him +to persevere. + +“I did not expect you in the least,” said Lady Laura. + +“And yet I spoke very positively.” + +“But there are things as to which a man may be very positive, and yet +may be allowed to fail. In the first place, how on earth did you get +home?” + +“Mr. Kennedy got me a pony,--Donald Bean’s pony.” + +“You told him, then?” + +“Yes; I told him why I was coming, and that I must be here. Then he +took the trouble to come all the way off the mountain to persuade +Donald to lend me his pony. I must acknowledge that Mr. Kennedy has +conquered me at last.” + +“I am so glad of that,” said Lady Laura. “I knew he would,--unless it +were your own fault.” + +They went up the path by the brook, from bridge to bridge, till they +found themselves out upon the open mountain at the top. Phineas had +resolved that he would not speak out his mind till he found himself +on that spot; that then he would ask her to sit down, and that while +she was so seated he would tell her everything. At the present moment +he had on his head a Scotch cap with a grouse’s feather in it, and he +was dressed in a velvet shooting-jacket and dark knickerbockers; and +was certainly, in this costume, as handsome a man as any woman would +wish to see. And there was, too, a look of breeding about him which +had come to him, no doubt, from the royal Finns of old, which ever +served him in great stead. He was, indeed, only Phineas Finn, and +was known by the world to be no more; but he looked as though he +might have been anybody,--a royal Finn himself. And then he had +that special grace of appearing to be altogether unconscious of his +own personal advantages. And I think that in truth he was barely +conscious of them; that he depended on them very little, if at all; +that there was nothing of personal vanity in his composition. He had +never indulged in any hope that Lady Laura would accept him because +he was a handsome man. + +“After all that climbing,” he said, “will you not sit down for a +moment?” As he spoke to her she looked at him and told herself that +he was as handsome as a god. “Do sit down for one moment,” he said. +“I have something that I desire to say to you, and to say it here.” + +“I will,” she said; “but I also have something to tell you, and will +say it while I am yet standing. Yesterday I accepted an offer of +marriage from Mr. Kennedy.” + +“Then I am too late,” said Phineas, and putting his hands into the +pockets of his coat, he turned his back upon her, and walked away +across the mountain. + +What a fool he had been to let her know his secret when her knowledge +of it could be of no service to him,--when her knowledge of it could +only make him appear foolish in her eyes! But for his life he could +not have kept his secret to himself. Nor now could he bring himself +to utter a word of even decent civility. But he went on walking as +though he could thus leave her there, and never see her again. What +an ass he had been in supposing that she cared for him! What a fool +to imagine that his poverty could stand a chance against the wealth +of Loughlinter! But why had she lured him on? How he wished that he +were now grinding, hard at work in Mr. Low’s chambers, or sitting +at home at Killaloe with the hand of that pretty little Irish girl +within his own! + +Presently he heard a voice behind him,--calling him gently. Then he +turned and found that she was very near him. He himself had then +been standing still for some moments, and she had followed him. “Mr. +Finn,” she said. + +“Well;--yes: what is it?” And turning round he made an attempt to +smile. + +“Will you not wish me joy, or say a word of congratulation? Had I not +thought much of your friendship, I should not have been so quick to +tell you of my destiny. No one else has been told, except papa.” + +“Of course I hope you will be happy. Of course I do. No wonder he +lent me the pony!” + +“You must forget all that.” + +“Forget what?” + +“Well,--nothing. You need forget nothing,” said Lady Laura, “for +nothing has been said that need be regretted. Only wish me joy, and +all will be pleasant.” + +“Lady Laura, I do wish you joy, with all my heart,--but that will not +make all things pleasant. I came up here to ask you to be my wife.” + +“No;--no, no; do not say it.” + +“But I have said it, and will say it again. I, poor, penniless, plain +simple fool that I am, have been ass enough to love you, Lady Laura +Standish; and I brought you up here to-day to ask you to share with +me--my nothingness. And this I have done on soil that is to be all +your own. Tell me that you regard me as a conceited fool,--as a +bewildered idiot.” + +“I wish to regard you as a dear friend,--both of my own and of my +husband,” said she, offering him her hand. + +“Should I have had a chance, I wonder, if I had spoken a week since?” + +“How can I answer such a question, Mr. Finn? Or, rather, I will, +answer it fully. It is not a week since we told each other, you to +me and I to you, that we were both poor,--both without other means +than those which come to us from our fathers. You will make your +way;--will make it surely; but how at present could you marry any +woman unless she had money of her own? For me,--like so many other +girls, it was necessary that I should stay at home or marry some one +rich enough to dispense with fortune in a wife. The man whom in all +the world I think the best has asked me to share everything with +him;--and I have thought it wise to accept his offer.” + +“And I was fool enough to think that you loved me,” said Phineas. To +this she made no immediate answer. “Yes, I was. I feel that I owe it +you to tell you what a fool I have been. I did. I thought you loved +me. At least I thought that perhaps you loved me. It was like a child +wanting the moon;--was it not?” + +“And why should I not have loved you?” she said slowly, laying her +hand gently upon his arm. + +“Why not? Because Loughlinter--” + +“Stop, Mr. Finn; stop. Do not say to me any unkind word that I +have not deserved, and that would make a breach between us. I have +accepted the owner of Loughlinter as my husband, because I verily +believe that I shall thus do my duty in that sphere of life to which +it has pleased God to call me. I have always liked him, and I will +love him. For you,--may I trust myself to speak openly to you?” + +“You may trust me as against all others, except us two ourselves.” + +“For you, then, I will say also that I have always liked you since I +knew you; that I have loved you as a friend;--and could have loved +you otherwise had not circumstances showed me so plainly that it +would be unwise.” + +“Oh, Lady Laura!” + +“Listen a moment. And pray remember that what I say to you now must +never be repeated to any ears. No one knows it but my father, my +brother, and Mr. Kennedy. Early in the spring I paid my brother’s +debts. His affection to me is more than a return for what I have done +for him. But when I did this,--when I made up my mind to do it, I +made up my mind also that I could not allow myself the same freedom +of choice which would otherwise have belonged to me. Will that be +sufficient, Mr. Finn?” + +“How can I answer you, Lady Laura? Sufficient! And you are not angry +with me for what I have said?” + +“No, I am not angry. But it is understood, of course, that nothing +of this shall ever be repeated,--even among ourselves. Is that a +bargain?” + +“Oh, yes. I shall never speak of it again.” + +“And now you will wish me joy?” + +“I have wished you joy, Lady Laura. And I will do so again. May you +have every blessing which the world can give you. You cannot expect +me to be very jovial for awhile myself; but there will be nobody to +see my melancholy moods. I shall be hiding myself away in Ireland. +When is the marriage to be?” + +“Nothing has been said of that. I shall be guided by him,--but there +must, of course, be delay. There will be settlements and I know not +what. It may probably be in the spring,--or perhaps the summer. I +shall do just what my betters tell me to do.” + +Phineas had now seated himself on the exact stone on which he had +wished her to sit when he proposed to tell his own story, and was +looking forth upon the lake. It seemed to him that everything had +been changed for him while he had been up there upon the mountain, +and that the change had been marvellous in its nature. When he had +been coming up, there had been apparently two alternatives before +him: the glory of successful love,--which, indeed, had seemed to him +to be a most improbable result of the coming interview,--and the +despair and utter banishment attendant on disdainful rejection. But +his position was far removed from either of these alternatives. She +had almost told him that she would have loved him had she not been +poor,--that she was beginning to love him and had quenched her love, +because it had become impossible to her to marry a poor man. In such +circumstances he could not be angry with her,--he could not quarrel +with her; he could not do other than swear to himself that he would +be her friend. And yet he loved her better than ever;--and she was +the promised wife of his rival! Why had not Donald Bean’s pony broken +his neck? + +“Shall we go down now?” she said. + +“Oh, yes.” + +“You will not go on by the lake?” + +“What is the use? It is all the same now. You will want to be back to +receive him in from shooting.” + +“Not that, I think. He is above those little cares. But it will be as +well we should go the nearest way, as we have spent so much of our +time here. I shall tell Mr. Kennedy that I have told you,--if you do +not mind.” + +“Tell him what you please,” said Phineas. + +“But I won’t have it taken in that way, Mr. Finn. Your brusque want +of courtesy to me I have forgiven, but I shall expect you to make up +for it by the alacrity of your congratulations to him. I will not +have you uncourteous to Mr. Kennedy.” + +“If I have been uncourteous I beg your pardon.” + +“You need not do that. We are old friends, and may take the liberty +of speaking plainly to each other;--but you will owe it to Mr. +Kennedy to be gracious. Think of the pony.” + +They walked back to the house together, and as they went down the +path very little was said. Just as they were about to come out upon +the open lawn, while they were still under cover of the rocks and +shrubs, Phineas stopped his companion by standing before her, and +then he made his farewell speech to her. + +“I must say good-bye to you. I shall be away early in the morning.” + +“Good-bye, and God bless you,” said Lady Laura. + +“Give me your hand,” said he. And she gave him her hand. “I don’t +suppose you know what it is to love dearly.” + +“I hope I do.” + +“But to be in love! I believe you do not. And to miss your love! I +think,--I am bound to think that you have never been so tormented. It +is very sore;--but I will do my best, like a man, to get over it.” + +“Do, my friend, do. So small a trouble will never weigh heavily on +shoulders such as yours.” + +“It will weigh very heavily, but I will struggle hard that it may not +crush me. I have loved you so dearly! As we are parting give me one +kiss, that I may think of it and treasure it in my memory!” What +murmuring words she spoke to express her refusal of such a request, +I will not quote; but the kiss had been taken before the denial was +completed, and then they walked on in silence together,--and in +peace, towards the house. + +On the next morning six or seven men were going away, and there was +an early breakfast. There were none of the ladies there, but Mr. +Kennedy, the host, was among his friends. A large drag with four +horses was there to take the travellers and their luggage to the +station, and there was naturally a good deal of noise at the front +door as the preparations for the departure were made. In the middle +of them Mr. Kennedy took our hero aside. “Laura has told me,” said +Mr. Kennedy, “that she has acquainted you with my good fortune.” + +“And I congratulate you most heartily,” said Phineas, grasping the +other’s hand. “You are indeed a lucky fellow.” + +“I feel myself to be so,” said Mr. Kennedy. “Such a wife was all that +was wanting to me, and such a wife is very hard to find. Will you +remember, Finn, that Loughlinter will never be so full but what +there will be a room for you, or so empty but what you will be made +welcome? I say this on Lady Laura’s part and on my own.” + +Phineas, as he was being carried away to the railway station, could +not keep himself from speculating as to how much Kennedy knew of +what had taken place during the walk up the Linter. Of one small +circumstance that had occurred, he felt quite sure that Mr. Kennedy +knew nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Phineas Finn Returns to Killaloe + + +Phineas Finn’s first session of Parliament was over,--his first +session with all its adventures. When he got back to Mrs. Bunce’s +house,--for Mrs. Bunce received him for a night in spite of her +husband’s advice to the contrary,--I am afraid he almost felt that +Mrs. Bunce and her rooms were beneath him. Of course he was very +unhappy,--as wretched as a man can be; there were moments in which he +thought that it would hardly become him to live unless he could do +something to prevent the marriage of Lady Laura and Mr. Kennedy. But, +nevertheless, he had his consolations. These were reflections which +had in them much of melancholy satisfaction. He had not been despised +by the woman to whom he had told his love. She had not shown him that +she thought him to be unworthy of her. She had not regarded his love +as an offence. Indeed, she had almost told him that prudence alone +had forbidden her to return his passion. And he had kissed her, and +had afterwards parted from her as a dear friend. I do not know why +there should have been a flavour of exquisite joy in the midst of his +agony as he thought of this;--but it was so. He would never kiss her +again. All future delights of that kind would belong to Mr. Kennedy, +and he had no real idea of interfering with that gentleman in the +fruition of his privileges. But still there was the kiss,--an +eternal fact. And then, in all respects except that of his love, his +visit to Loughlinter had been pre-eminently successful. Mr. Monk had +become his friend, and had encouraged him to speak during the next +session,--setting before him various models, and prescribing for him +a course of reading. Lord Brentford had become intimate with him. He +was on pleasant terms with Mr. Palliser and Mr. Gresham. And as for +Mr. Kennedy,--he and Mr. Kennedy were almost bosom friends. It seemed +to him that he had quite surpassed the Ratlers, Fitzgibbons, and +Bonteens in that politico-social success which goes so far towards +downright political success, and which in itself is so pleasant. He +had surpassed these men in spite of their offices and their acquired +positions, and could not but think that even Mr. Low, if he knew it +all, would confess that he had been right. + +As to his bosom friendship with Mr. Kennedy, that of course troubled +him. Ought he not to be driving a poniard into Mr. Kennedy’s heart? +The conventions of life forbade that; and therefore the bosom +friendship was to be excused. If not an enemy to the death, then +there could be no reason why he should not be a bosom friend. + +He went over to Ireland, staying but one night with Mrs. Bunce, and +came down upon them at Killaloe like a god out of the heavens. Even +his father was well-nigh overwhelmed by admiration, and his mother +and sisters thought themselves only fit to minister to his pleasures. +He had learned, if he had learned nothing else, to look as though he +were master of the circumstances around him, and was entirely free +from internal embarrassment. When his father spoke to him about his +legal studies, he did not exactly laugh at his father’s ignorance, +but he recapitulated to his father so much of Mr. Monk’s wisdom at +second hand,--showing plainly that it was his business to study the +arts of speech and the technicalities of the House, and not to study +law,--that his father had nothing further to say. He had become a +man of such dimensions that an ordinary father could hardly dare to +inquire into his proceedings; and as for an ordinary mother,--such as +Mrs. Finn certainly was,--she could do no more than look after her +son’s linen with awe. + +Mary Flood Jones,--the reader I hope will not quite have forgotten +Mary Flood Jones,--was in a great tremor when first she met the hero +of Loughshane after returning from the honours of his first session. +She had been somewhat disappointed because the newspapers had not +been full of the speeches he had made in Parliament. And indeed the +ladies of the Finn household had all been ill at ease on this head. +They could not imagine why Phineas had restrained himself with so +much philosophy. But Miss Flood Jones in discussing the matter +with the Miss Finns had never expressed the slightest doubt of his +capacity or his judgment. And when tidings came,--the tidings came +in a letter from Phineas to his father,--that he did not intend to +speak that session, because speeches from a young member on his first +session were thought to be inexpedient, Miss Flood Jones and the Miss +Finns were quite willing to accept the wisdom of this decision, much +as they might regret the effect of it. Mary, when she met her hero, +hardly dared to look him in the face, but she remembered accurately +all the circumstances of her last interview with him. Could it be +that he wore that ringlet near his heart? Mary had received from +Barbara Finn certain hairs supposed to have come from the head of +Phineas, and these she always wore near her own. And moreover, since +she had seen Phineas she had refused an offer of marriage from Mr. +Elias Bodkin,--had refused it almost ignominiously,--and when doing +so had told herself that she would never be false to Phineas Finn. + +“We think it so good of you to come to see us again,” she said. + +“Good to come home to my own people?” + +“Of course you might be staying with plenty of grandees if you liked +it.” + +“No, indeed, Mary. It did happen by accident that I had to go to the +house of a man whom perhaps you would call a grandee, and to meet +grandees there. But it was only for a few days, and I am very glad to +be taken in again here, I can assure you.” + +“You know how very glad we all are to have you.” + +“Are you glad to see me, Mary?” + +“Very glad. Why should I not be glad, and Barbara the dearest friend +I have in the world? Of course she talks about you,--and that makes +me think of you.” + +“If you knew, Mary, how often I think about you.” Then Mary, who was +very happy at hearing such words, and who was walking in to dinner +with him at the moment, could not refrain herself from pressing his +arm with her little fingers. She knew that Phineas in his position +could not marry at once; but she would wait for him,--oh, for ever, +if he would only ask her. He of course was a wicked traitor to tell +her that he was wont to think of her. But Jove smiles at lovers’ +perjuries;--and it is well that he should do so, as such perjuries +can hardly be avoided altogether in the difficult circumstances of a +successful gentleman’s life. Phineas was a traitor, of course, but he +was almost forced to be a traitor, by the simple fact that Lady Laura +Standish was in London, and Mary Flood Jones in Killaloe. + +He remained for nearly five months at Killaloe, and I doubt whether +his time was altogether well spent. Some of the books recommended +to him by Mr. Monk he probably did read, and was often to be found +encompassed by blue books. I fear that there was a grain of pretence +about his blue books and parliamentary papers, and that in these days +he was, in a gentle way, something of an impostor. “You must not be +angry with me for not going to you,” he said once to Mary’s mother +when he had declined an invitation to drink tea; “but the fact is +that my time is not my own.” “Pray don’t make any apologies. We are +quite aware that we have very little to offer,” said Mrs. Flood +Jones, who was not altogether happy about Mary, and who perhaps knew +more about members of Parliament and blue books than Phineas Finn had +supposed. “Mary, you are a fool to think of that man,” the mother +said to her daughter the next morning. “I don’t think of him, mamma; +not particularly.” “He is no better than anybody else that I can see, +and he is beginning to give himself airs,” said Mrs. Flood Jones. +Mary made no answer; but she went up into her room and swore before a +figure of the Virgin that she would be true to Phineas for ever and +ever, in spite of her mother, in spite of all the world,--in spite, +should it be necessary, even of himself. + +About Christmas time there came a discussion between Phineas and his +father about money. “I hope you find you get on pretty well,” said +the doctor, who thought that he had been liberal. + +“It’s a tight fit,” said Phineas,--who was less afraid of his father +than he had been when he last discussed these things. + +“I had hoped it would have been ample,” said the doctor. + +“Don’t think for a moment, sir, that I am complaining,” said Phineas. +“I know it is much more than I have a right to expect.” + +The doctor began to make an inquiry within his own breast as to +whether his son had a right to expect anything;--whether the time +had not come in which his son should be earning his own bread. “I +suppose,” he said, after a pause, “there is no chance of your doing +anything at the bar now?” + +“Not immediately. It is almost impossible to combine the two studies +together.” Mr. Low himself was aware of that. “But you are not to +suppose that I have given the profession up.” + +“I hope not,--after all the money it has cost us.” + +“By no means, sir. And all that I am doing now will, I trust, be of +assistance to me when I shall come back to work at the law. Of course +it is on the cards that I may go into office,--and if so, public +business will become my profession.” + +“And be turned out with the Ministry!” + +“Yes; that is true, sir. I must run my chance. If the worst comes to +the worst, I hope I might be able to secure some permanent place. I +should think that I can hardly fail to do so. But I trust I may never +be driven to want it. I thought, however, that we had settled all +this before.” Then Phineas assumed a look of injured innocence, as +though his father was driving him too hard. + +“And in the mean time your money has been enough?” said the doctor, +after a pause. + +“I had intended to ask you to advance me a hundred pounds,” said +Phineas. “There were expenses to which I was driven on first entering +Parliament.” + +“A hundred pounds.” + +“If it be inconvenient, sir, I can do without it.” He had not as +yet paid for his gun, or for that velvet coat in which he had been +shooting, or, most probably, for the knickerbockers. He knew he +wanted the hundred pounds badly; but he felt ashamed of himself in +asking for it. If he were once in office,--though the office were but +a sorry junior lordship,--he would repay his father instantly. + +“You shall have it, of course,” said the doctor; “but do not let the +necessity for asking for more hundreds come oftener than you can +help.” Phineas said that he would not, and then there was no further +discourse about money. It need hardly be said that he told his father +nothing of that bill which he had endorsed for Laurence Fitzgibbon. + +At last came the time which called him again to London and the +glories of London life,--to lobbies, and the clubs, and the gossip of +men in office, and the chance of promotion for himself; to the glare +of the gas-lamps, the mock anger of rival debaters, and the prospect +of the Speaker’s wig. During the idleness of the recess he had +resolved at any rate upon this,--that a month of the session should +not have passed by before he had been seen upon his legs in the +House,--had been seen and heard. And many a time as he had wandered +alone, with his gun, across the bogs which lie on the other side of +the Shannon from Killaloe, he had practised the sort of address which +he would make to the House. He would be short,--always short; and he +would eschew all action and gesticulation; Mr. Monk had been very +urgent in his instructions to him on that head; but he would be +especially careful that no words should escape him which had not in +them some purpose. He might be wrong in his purpose, but purpose +there should be. He had been twitted more than once at Killaloe +with his silence;--for it had been conceived by his fellow-townsmen +that he had been sent to Parliament on the special ground of his +eloquence. They should twit him no more on his next return. He would +speak and would carry the House with him if a human effort might +prevail. + +So he packed up his things, and started again for London in the +beginning of February. “Good-bye, Mary,” he said with his sweetest +smile. But on this occasion there was no kiss, and no culling of +locks. “I know he cannot help it,” said Mary to herself. “It is his +position. But whether it be for good or evil, I will be true to him.” + +“I am afraid you are unhappy,” Babara Finn said to her on the next +morning. + +“No; I am not unhappy,--not at all. I have a deal to make me happy +and proud. I don’t mean to be a bit unhappy.” Then she turned away +and cried heartily, and Barbara Finn cried with her for company. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Phineas Finn Returns to London + + +Phineas had received two letters during his recess at Killaloe from +two women who admired him much, which, as they were both short, shall +be submitted to the reader. The first was as follows:-- + + + Saulsby, October 20, 186--. + + MY DEAR MR. FINN, + + I write a line to tell you that our marriage is to be + hurried on as quickly as possible. Mr. Kennedy does not + like to be absent from Parliament; nor will he be content + to postpone the ceremony till the session be over. The day + fixed is the 3rd of December, and we then go at once to + Rome, and intend to be back in London by the opening of + Parliament. + + Yours most sincerely, + + LAURA STANDISH. + + Our London address will be No. 52, Grosvenor Place. + + +To this he wrote an answer as short, expressing his ardent wishes +that those winter hymeneals might produce nothing but happiness, and +saying that he would not be in town many days before he knocked at +the door of No. 52, Grosvenor Place. + +And the second letter was as follows:-- + + + Great Marlborough Street, December, 186--. + + DEAR AND HONOURED SIR, + + Bunce is getting ever so anxious about the rooms, and + says as how he has a young Equity draftsman and wife and + baby as would take the whole house, and all because Miss + Pouncefoot said a word about her port wine, which any lady + of her age might say in her tantrums, and mean nothing + after all. Me and Miss Pouncefoot’s knowed each other for + seven years, and what’s a word or two as isn’t meant after + that? But, honoured sir, it’s not about that as I write + to trouble you, but to ask if I may say for certain that + you’ll take the rooms again in February. It’s easy to + let them for the month after Christmas, because of the + pantomimes. Only say at once, because Bunce is nagging + me day after day. I don’t want nobody’s wife and baby to + have to do for, and ’d sooner have a Parliament gent like + yourself than any one else. + + Yours umbly and respectful, + + JANE BUNCE. + + +To this he replied that he would certainly come back to the rooms +in Great Marlborough Street, should he be lucky enough to find them +vacant, and he expressed his willingness to take them on and from +the 1st of February. And on the 3rd of February he found himself in +the old quarters, Mrs. Bunce having contrived, with much conjugal +adroitness, both to keep Miss Pouncefoot and to stave off the Equity +draftsman’s wife and baby. Bunce, however, received Phineas very +coldly, and told his wife the same evening that as far as he could +see their lodger would never turn up to be a trump in the matter of +the ballot. “If he means well, why did he go and stay with them lords +down in Scotland? I knows all about it. I knows a man when I sees +him. Mr. Low, who’s looking out to be a Tory judge some of these +days, is a deal better;--because he knows what he’s after.” + +Immediately on his return to town, Phineas found himself summoned to +a political meeting at Mr. Mildmay’s house in St. James’s Square. +“We’re going to begin in earnest this time,” Barrington Erle said to +him at the club. + +“I am glad of that,” said Phineas. + +“I suppose you heard all about it down at Loughlinter?” + +Now, in truth, Phineas had heard very little of any settled plan down +at Loughlinter. He had played a game of chess with Mr. Gresham, and +had shot a stag with Mr. Palliser, and had discussed sheep with Lord +Brentford, but had hardly heard a word about politics from any one +of those influential gentlemen. From Mr. Monk he had heard much of a +coming Reform Bill; but his communications with Mr. Monk had rather +been private discussions,--in which he had learned Mr. Monk’s own +views on certain points,--than revelations on the intention of the +party to which Mr. Monk belonged. “I heard of nothing settled,” said +Phineas; “but I suppose we are to have a Reform Bill.” + +“That is a matter of course.” + +“And I suppose we are not to touch the question of ballot.” + +“That’s the difficulty,” said Barrington Erle. “But of course we +shan’t touch it as long as Mr. Mildmay is in the Cabinet. He will +never consent to the ballot as First Minister of the Crown.” + +“Nor would Gresham, or Palliser,” said Phineas, who did not choose to +bring forward his greatest gun at first. + +“I don’t know about Gresham. It is impossible to say what Gresham +might bring himself to do. Gresham is a man who may go any lengths +before he has done. Planty Pall,”--for such was the name by which Mr. +Plantagenet Palliser was ordinarily known among his friends,--“would +of course go with Mr. Mildmay and the Duke.” + +“And Monk is opposed to the ballot,” said Phineas. + +“Ah, that’s the question. No doubt he has assented to the proposition +of a measure without the ballot; but if there should come a row, and +men like Turnbull demand it, and the London mob kick up a shindy, I +don’t know how far Monk would be steady.” + +“Whatever he says, he’ll stick to.” + +“He is your leader, then?” asked Barrington. + +“I don’t know that I have a leader. Mr. Mildmay leads our side; and +if anybody leads me, he does. But I have great faith in Mr. Monk.” + +“There’s one who would go for the ballot to-morrow, if it were +brought forward stoutly,” said Barrington Erle to Mr. Ratler a few +minutes afterwards, pointing to Phineas as he spoke. + +“I don’t think much of that young man,” said Ratler. + +Mr. Bonteen and Mr. Ratler had put their heads together during that +last evening at Loughlinter, and had agreed that they did not think +much of Phineas Finn. Why did Mr. Kennedy go down off the mountain +to get him a pony? And why did Mr. Gresham play chess with him? Mr. +Ratler and Mr. Bonteen may have been right in making up their minds +to think but little of Phineas Finn, but Barrington Erle had been +quite wrong when he had said that Phineas would “go for the ballot” +to-morrow. Phineas had made up his mind very strongly that he would +always oppose the ballot. That he would hold the same opinion +throughout his life, no one should pretend to say; but in his present +mood, and under the tuition which he had received from Mr. Monk, +he was prepared to demonstrate, out of the House and in it, that +the ballot was, as a political measure, unmanly, ineffective, and +enervating. Enervating had been a great word with Mr. Monk, and +Phineas had clung to it with admiration. + +The meeting took place at Mr. Mildmay’s on the third day of the +session. Phineas had of course heard of such meetings before, but had +never attended one. Indeed, there had been no such gathering when +Mr. Mildmay’s party came into power early in the last session. Mr. +Mildmay and his men had then made their effort in turning out their +opponents, and had been well pleased to rest awhile upon their oars. +Now, however, they must go again to work, and therefore the liberal +party was collected at Mr. Mildmay’s house, in order that the liberal +party might be told what it was that Mr. Mildmay and his Cabinet +intended to do. + +Phineas Finn was quite in the dark as to what would be the nature +of the performance on this occasion, and entertained some idea that +every gentleman present would be called upon to express individually +his assent or dissent in regard to the measure proposed. He walked to +St. James’s Square with Laurence Fitzgibbon; but even with Fitzgibbon +was ashamed to show his ignorance by asking questions. “After all,” +said Fitzgibbon, “this kind of thing means nothing. I know as well as +possible, and so do you, what Mr. Mildmay will say,--and then Gresham +will say a few words; and then Turnbull will make a murmur, and then +we shall all assent,--to anything or to nothing;--and then it will be +over.” Still Phineas did not understand whether the assent required +would or would not be an individual personal assent. When the affair +was over he found that he was disappointed, and that he might almost +as well have stayed away from the meeting,--except that he had +attended at Mr. Mildmay’s bidding, and had given a silent adhesion to +Mr. Mildmay’s plan of reform for that session. Laurence Fitzgibbon +had been very nearly correct in his description of what would occur. +Mr. Mildmay made a long speech. Mr. Turnbull, the great Radical of +the day,--the man who was supposed to represent what many called the +Manchester school of politics,--asked half a dozen questions. In +answer to these Mr. Gresham made a short speech. Then Mr. Mildmay +made another speech, and then all was over. The gist of the whole +thing was, that there should be a Reform Bill,--very generous in its +enlargement of the franchise,--but no ballot. Mr. Turnbull expressed +his doubt whether this would be satisfactory to the country; but even +Mr. Turnbull was soft in his tone and complaisant in his manner. As +there was no reporter present,--that plan of turning private meetings +at gentlemen’s houses into public assemblies not having been as yet +adopted,--there could be no need for energy or violence. They went to +Mr. Mildmay’s house to hear Mr. Mildmay’s plan,--and they heard it. + +Two days after this Phineas was to dine with Mr. Monk. Mr. Monk had +asked him in the lobby of the House. “I don’t give dinner parties,” +he said, “but I should like you to come and meet Mr. Turnbull.” +Phineas accepted the invitation as a matter of course. There were +many who said that Mr. Turnbull was the greatest man in the nation, +and that the nation could be saved only by a direct obedience to +Mr. Turnbull’s instructions. Others said that Mr. Turnbull was a +demagogue and at heart a rebel; that he was un-English, false and +very dangerous. Phineas was rather inclined to believe the latter +statement; and as danger and dangerous men are always more attractive +than safety and safe men, he was glad to have an opportunity of +meeting Mr. Turnbull at dinner. + +In the meantime he went to call on Lady Laura, whom he had not +seen since the last evening which he spent in her company at +Loughlinter,--whom, when he was last speaking to her, he had kissed +close beneath the falls of the Linter. He found her at home, and with +her was her husband. “Here is a Darby and Joan meeting, is it not?” +she said, getting up to welcome him. He had seen Mr. Kennedy before, +and had been standing close to him during the meeting at Mr. +Mildmay’s. + +“I am very glad to find you both together.” + +“But Robert is going away this instant,” said Lady Laura. “Has he +told you of our adventures at Rome?” + +“Not a word.” + +“Then I must tell you;--but not now. The dear old Pope was so civil +to us. I came to think it quite a pity that he should be in trouble.” + +“I must be off,” said the husband, getting up. “But I shall meet you +at dinner, I believe.” + +“Do you dine at Mr. Monk’s?” + +“Yes, and am asked expressly to hear Turnbull make a convert of you. +There are only to be us four. Au revoir.” Then Mr. Kennedy went, and +Phineas found himself alone with Lady Laura. He hardly knew how to +address her, and remained silent. He had not prepared himself for the +interview as he ought to have done, and felt himself to be awkward. +She evidently expected him to speak, and for a few seconds sat +waiting for what he might say. + +At last she found that it was incumbent on her to begin. “Were you +surprised at our suddenness when you got my note?” + +“A little. You had spoken of waiting.” + +“I had never imagined that he would have been impetuous. And he seems +to think that even the business of getting himself married would not +justify him staying away from Parliament. He is a rigid martinet in +all matters of duty.” + +“I did not wonder that he should be in a hurry, but that you should +submit.” + +“I told you that I should do just what the wise people told me. I +asked papa, and he said that it would be better. So the lawyers were +driven out of their minds, and the milliners out of their bodies, and +the thing was done.” + +“Who was there at the marriage?” + +“Oswald was not there. That I know is what you mean to ask. Papa said +that he might come if he pleased. Oswald stipulated that he should be +received as a son. Then my father spoke the hardest word that ever +fell from his mouth.” + +“What did he say?” + +“I will not repeat it,--not altogether. But he said that Oswald was +not entitled to a son’s treatment. He was very sore about my money, +because Robert was so generous as to his settlement. So the breach +between them is as wide as ever.” + +“And where is Chiltern now?” said Phineas. + +“Down in Northamptonshire, staying at some inn from whence he hunts. +He tells me that he is quite alone,--that he never dines out, never +has any one to dine with him, that he hunts five or six days a +week,--and reads at night.” + +“That is not a bad sort of life.” + +“Not if the reading is any good. But I cannot bear that he should be +so solitary. And if he breaks down in it, then his companions will +not be fit for him. Do you ever hunt?” + +“Oh yes,--at home in county Clare. All Irishmen hunt.” + +“I wish you would go down to him and see him. He would be delighted +to have you.” + +Phineas thought over the proposition before he answered it, and then +made the reply that he had made once before. “I would do so, Lady +Laura,--but that I have no money for hunting in England.” + +“Alas, alas!” said she, smiling. “How that hits one on every side!” + +“I might manage it,--for a couple of days,--in March.” + +“Do not do what you think you ought not to do,” said Lady Laura. + +“No; certainly. But I should like it, and if I can I will.” + +“He could mount you, I have no doubt. He has no other expense now, +and keeps a stable full of horses. I think he has seven or eight. And +now tell me, Mr. Finn; when are you going to charm the House? Or is +it your first intention to strike terror?” + +He blushed,--he knew that he blushed as he answered. “Oh, I suppose I +shall make some sort of attempt before long. I can’t bear the idea of +being a bore.” + +“I think you ought to speak, Mr. Finn.” + +“I do not know about that, but I certainly mean to try. There will be +lots of opportunities about the new Reform Bill. Of course you know +that Mr. Mildmay is going to bring it in at once. You hear all that +from Mr. Kennedy.” + +“And papa has told me. I still see papa almost every day. You must +call upon him. Mind you do.” Phineas said that he certainly would. +“Papa is very lonely now, and I sometimes feel that I have been +almost cruel in deserting him. And I think that he has a horror of +the house,--especially later in the year,--always fancying that he +will meet Oswald. I am so unhappy about it all, Mr. Finn.” + +“Why doesn’t your brother marry?” said Phineas, knowing nothing as +yet of Lord Chiltern and Violet Effingham. “If he were to marry well, +that would bring your father round.” + +“Yes,--it would.” + +“And why should he not?” + +Lady Laura paused before she answered; and then she told the whole +story. “He is violently in love, and the girl he loves has refused +him twice.” + +“Is it with Miss Effingham?” asked Phineas, guessing the truth at +once, and remembering what Miss Effingham had said to him when riding +in the wood. + +“Yes;--with Violet Effingham; my father’s pet, his favourite, whom he +loves next to myself,--almost as well as myself; whom he would really +welcome as a daughter. He would gladly make her mistress of his +house, and of Saulsby. Everything would then go smoothly.” + +“But she does not like Lord Chiltern?” + +“I believe she loves him in her heart; but she is afraid of him. As +she says herself, a girl is bound to be so careful of herself. With +all her seeming frolic, Violet Effingham is very wise.” + +Phineas, though not conscious of anything akin to jealousy, was +annoyed at the revelation made to him. Since he had heard that Lord +Chiltern was in love with Miss Effingham, he did not like Lord +Chiltern quite as well as he had done before. He himself had simply +admired Miss Effingham, and had taken pleasure in her society; but, +though this had been all, he did not like to hear of another man +wanting to marry her, and he was almost angry with Lady Laura for +saying that she believed Miss Effingham loved her brother. If Miss +Effingham had twice refused Lord Chiltern, that ought to have been +sufficient. It was not that Phineas was in love with Miss Effingham +himself. As he was still violently in love with Lady Laura, any other +love was of course impossible; but, nevertheless, there was something +offensive to him in the story as it had been told. “If it be wisdom +on her part,” said he, answering Lady Laura’s last words, “you cannot +find fault with her for her decision.” + +“I find no fault;--but I think my brother would make her happy.” + +Lady Laura, when she was left alone, at once reverted to the tone in +which Phineas Finn had answered her remarks about Miss Effingham. +Phineas was very ill able to conceal his thoughts, and wore his heart +almost upon his sleeve. “Can it be possible that he cares for her +himself?” That was the nature of Lady Laura’s first question to +herself upon the matter. And in asking herself that question, she +thought nothing of the disparity in rank or fortune between Phineas +Finn and Violet Effingham. Nor did it occur to her as at all +improbable that Violet might accept the love of him who had so lately +been her own lover. But the idea grated against her wishes on two +sides. She was most anxious that Violet should ultimately become her +brother’s wife,--and she could not be pleased that Phineas should be +able to love any woman. + +I must beg my readers not to be carried away by those last words +into any erroneous conclusion. They must not suppose that Lady Laura +Kennedy, the lately married bride, indulged a guilty passion for the +young man who had loved her. Though she had probably thought often +of Phineas Finn since her marriage, her thoughts had never been of +a nature to disturb her rest. It had never occurred to her even to +think that she regarded him with any feeling that was an offence +to her husband. She would have hated herself had any such idea +presented itself to her mind. She prided herself on being a pure +high-principled woman, who had kept so strong a guard upon herself as +to be nearly free from the dangers of those rocks upon which other +women made shipwreck of their happiness. She took pride in this, and +would then blame herself for her own pride. But though she so blamed +herself, it never occurred to her to think that to her there might be +danger of such shipwreck. She had put away from herself the idea of +love when she had first perceived that Phineas had regarded her with +more than friendship, and had accepted Mr. Kennedy’s offer with an +assured conviction that by doing so she was acting best for her own +happiness and for that of all those concerned. She had felt the +romance of the position to be sweet when Phineas had stood with her +at the top of the falls of the Linter, and had told her of the hopes +which he had dared to indulge. And when at the bottom of the falls he +had presumed to take her in his arms, she had forgiven him without +difficulty to herself, telling herself that that would be the alpha +and the omega of the romance of her life. She had not felt herself +bound to tell Mr. Kennedy of what had occurred,--but she had felt +that he could hardly have been angry even had he been told. And she +had often thought of her lover since, and of his love,--telling +herself that she too had once had a lover, never regarding her +husband in that light; but her thoughts had not frightened her as +guilty thoughts will do. There had come a romance which had been +pleasant, and it was gone. It had been soon banished,--but it +had left to her a sweet flavour, of which she loved to taste the +sweetness though she knew that it was gone. And the man should be her +friend, but especially her husband’s friend. It should be her care to +see that his life was successful,--and especially her husband’s care. +It was a great delight to her to know that her husband liked the man. +And the man would marry, and the man’s wife should be her friend. All +this had been very pure and very pleasant. Now an idea had flitted +across her brain that the man was in love with some one else,--and +she did not like it! + +But she did not therefore become afraid of herself, or in the least +realise at once the danger of her own position. Her immediate glance +at the matter did not go beyond the falseness of men. If it were so, +as she suspected,--if Phineas had in truth transferred his affections +to Violet Effingham, of how little value was the love of such a man! +It did not occur to her at this moment that she also had transferred +hers to Robert Kennedy, or that, if not, she had done worse. But she +did remember that in the autumn this young Phoebus among men had +turned his back upon her out upon the mountain that he might hide +from her the agony of his heart when he learned that she was to be +the wife of another man; and that now, before the winter was over, he +could not hide from her the fact that his heart was elsewhere! And +then she speculated, and counted up facts, and satisfied herself that +Phineas could not even have seen Violet Effingham since they two had +stood together upon the mountain. How false are men!--how false and +how weak of heart! + +“Chiltern and Violet Effingham!” said Phineas to himself, as he +walked away from Grosvenor Place. “Is it fair that she should be +sacrificed because she is rich, and because she is so winning and so +fascinating that Lord Brentford would receive even his son for the +sake of receiving also such a daughter-in-law?” Phineas also liked +Lord Chiltern; had seen or fancied that he had seen fine things in +him; had looked forward to his regeneration, hoping, perhaps, that he +might have some hand in the good work. But he did not recognise the +propriety of sacrificing Violet Effingham even for work so good as +this. If Miss Effingham had refused Lord Chiltern twice, surely that +ought to be sufficient. It did not occur to him that the love of such +a girl as Violet would be a great treasure--to himself. As regarded +himself, he was still in love,--hopelessly in love, with Lady Laura +Kennedy! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Mr. Turnbull + + +It was a Wednesday evening and there was no House;--and at seven +o’clock Phineas was at Mr. Monk’s hall door. He was the first of the +guests, and he found Mr. Monk alone in the dining-room. “I am doing +butler,” said Mr. Monk, who had a brace of decanters in his hands, +which he proceeded to put down in the neighbourhood of the fire. +“But I have finished, and now we will go up-stairs to receive the +two great men properly.” + +“I beg your pardon for coming too early,” said Finn. + +“Not a minute too early. Seven is seven, and it is I who am too late. +But, Lord bless you, you don’t think I’m ashamed of being found in +the act of decanting my own wine! I remember Lord Palmerston saying +before some committee about salaries, five or six years ago now, I +daresay, that it wouldn’t do for an English Minister to have his hall +door opened by a maid-servant. Now, I’m an English Minister, and +I’ve got nobody but a maid-servant to open my hall door, and I’m +obliged to look after my own wine. I wonder whether it’s improper? I +shouldn’t like to be the means of injuring the British Constitution.” + +“Perhaps if you resign soon, and if nobody follows your example, +grave evil results may be avoided.” + +“I sincerely hope so, for I do love the British Constitution; and I +love also the respect in which members of the English Cabinet are +held. Now Turnbull, who will be here in a moment, hates it all; but +he is a rich man, and has more powdered footmen hanging about his +house than ever Lord Palmerston had himself.” + +“He is still in business.” + +“Oh yes;--and makes his thirty thousand a year. Here he is. How are +you, Turnbull? We were talking about my maid-servant. I hope she +opened the door for you properly.” + +“Certainly,--as far as I perceived,” said Mr. Turnbull, who was +better at a speech than a joke. “A very respectable young woman I +should say.” + +“There is not one more so in all London,” said Mr. Monk; “but Finn +seems to think that I ought to have a man in livery.” + +“It is a matter of perfect indifference to me,” said Mr. Turnbull. +“I am one of those who never think of such things.” + +“Nor I either,” said Mr. Monk. Then the laird of Loughlinter was +announced, and they all went down to dinner. + +Mr. Turnbull was a good-looking robust man about sixty, with long +grey hair and a red complexion, with hard eyes, a well-cut nose, and +full lips. He was nearly six feet high, stood quite upright, and +always wore a black swallow-tail coat, black trousers, and a black +silk waistcoat. In the House, at least, he was always so dressed, and +at dinner tables. What difference there might be in his costume when +at home at Staleybridge few of those who saw him in London had the +means of knowing. There was nothing in his face to indicate special +talent. No one looking at him would take him to be a fool; but there +was none of the fire of genius in his eye, nor was there in the lines +of his mouth any of that play of thought or fancy which is generally +to be found in the faces of men and women who have made themselves +great. Mr. Turnbull had certainly made himself great, and could +hardly have done so without force of intellect. He was one of the +most popular, if not the most popular politician in the country. Poor +men believed in him, thinking that he was their most honest public +friend; and men who were not poor believed in his power, thinking +that his counsels must surely prevail. He had obtained the ear of the +House and the favour of the reporters, and opened his voice at no +public dinner, on no public platform, without a conviction that the +words spoken by him would be read by thousands. The first necessity +for good speaking is a large audience; and of this advantage Mr. +Turnbull had made himself sure. And yet it could hardly be said that +he was a great orator. He was gifted with a powerful voice, with +strong, and I may, perhaps, call them broad convictions, with perfect +self-reliance, with almost unlimited powers of endurance, with hot +ambition, with no keen scruples, and with a moral skin of great +thickness. Nothing said against him pained him, no attacks wounded +him, no raillery touched him in the least. There was not a sore spot +about him, and probably his first thoughts on waking every morning +told him that he, at least, was totus teres atque rotundus. He was, +of course, a thorough Radical,--and so was Mr. Monk. But Mr. Monk’s +first waking thoughts were probably exactly the reverse of those +of his friend. Mr. Monk was a much hotter man in debate than Mr. +Turnbull;--but Mr. Monk was ever doubting of himself, and never +doubted of himself so much as when he had been most violent, and +also most effective, in debate. When Mr. Monk jeered at himself for +being a Cabinet Minister and keeping no attendant grander than a +parlour-maid, there was a substratum of self-doubt under the joke. + +Mr. Turnbull was certainly a great Radical, and as such enjoyed a +great reputation. I do not think that high office in the State had +ever been offered to him; but things had been said which justified +him, or seemed to himself to justify him, in declaring that in +no possible circumstances would he serve the Crown. “I serve the +people,” he had said, “and much as I respect the servants of the +Crown, I think that my own office is the higher.” He had been greatly +called to task for this speech; and Mr. Mildmay, the present Premier, +had asked him whether he did not recognise the so-called servants of +the Crown as the most hard-worked and truest servants of the people. +The House and the press had supported Mr. Mildmay, but to all that +Mr. Turnbull was quite indifferent; and when an assertion made by him +before three or four thousand persons at Manchester, to the effect +that he,--he specially,--was the friend and servant of the people, +was received with acclamation, he felt quite satisfied that he had +gained his point. Progressive reform in the franchise, of which +manhood suffrage should be the acknowledged and not far distant end, +equal electoral districts, ballot, tenant right for England as well +as Ireland, reduction of the standing army till there should be no +standing army to reduce, utter disregard of all political movements +in Europe, an almost idolatrous admiration for all political +movements in America, free trade in everything except malt, and +an absolute extinction of a State Church,--these were among the +principal articles in Mr. Turnbull’s political catalogue. And I +think that when once he had learned the art of arranging his words +as he stood upon his legs, and had so mastered his voice as to +have obtained the ear of the House, the work of his life was not +difficult. Having nothing to construct, he could always deal with +generalities. Being free from responsibility, he was not called upon +either to study details or to master even great facts. It was his +business to inveigh against existing evils, and perhaps there is +no easier business when once the privilege of an audience has been +attained. It was his work to cut down forest-trees, and he had +nothing to do with the subsequent cultivation of the land. Mr. +Monk had once told Phineas Finn how great were the charms of that +inaccuracy which was permitted to the Opposition. Mr. Turnbull no +doubt enjoyed these charms to the full, though he would sooner have +put a padlock on his mouth for a month than have owned as much. Upon +the whole, Mr. Turnbull was no doubt right in resolving that he would +not take office, though some reticence on that subject might have +been more becoming to him. + +The conversation at dinner, though it was altogether on political +subjects, had in it nothing of special interest as long as the girl +was there to change the plates; but when she was gone, and the door +was closed, it gradually opened out, and there came on to be a +pleasant sparring match between the two great Radicals,--the Radical +who had joined himself to the governing powers, and the Radical who +stood aloof. Mr. Kennedy barely said a word now and then, and Phineas +was almost as silent as Mr. Kennedy. He had come there to hear some +such discussion, and was quite willing to listen while guns of such +great calibre were being fired off for his amusement. + +“I think Mr. Mildmay is making a great step forward,” said Mr. +Turnbull. + +“I think he is,” said Mr. Monk. + +“I did not believe that he would ever live to go so far. It will +hardly suffice even for this year; but still coming from him, it is +a great deal. It only shows how far a man may be made to go, if only +the proper force be applied. After all, it matters very little who +are the Ministers.” + +“That is what I have always declared,” said Mr. Monk. + +“Very little indeed. We don’t mind whether it be Lord de Terrier, or +Mr. Mildmay, or Mr. Gresham, or you yourself, if you choose to get +yourself made First Lord of the Treasury.” + +“I have no such ambition, Turnbull.” + +“I should have thought you had. If I went in for that kind of thing +myself, I should like to go to the top of the ladder. I should feel +that if I could do any good at all by becoming a Minister, I could +only do it by becoming first Minister.” + +“You wouldn’t doubt your own fitness for such a position?” + +“I doubt my fitness for the position of any Minister,” said Mr. +Turnbull. + +“You mean that on other grounds,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“I mean it on every ground,” said Mr. Turnbull, rising on his legs +and standing with his back to the fire. “Of course I am not fit to +have diplomatic intercourse with men who would come to me simply with +the desire of deceiving me. Of course I am unfit to deal with members +of Parliament who would flock around me because they wanted places. +Of course I am unfit to answer every man’s question so as to give no +information to any one.” + +“Could you not answer them so as to give information?” said Mr. +Kennedy. + +But Mr. Turnbull was so intent on his speech that it may be doubted +whether he heard this interruption. He took no notice of it as he +went on. “Of course I am unfit to maintain the proprieties of a +seeming confidence between a Crown all-powerless and a people +all-powerful. No man recognises his own unfitness for such work more +clearly than I do, Mr. Monk. But if I took in hand such work at all, +I should like to be the leader, and not the led. Tell us fairly, now, +what are your convictions worth in Mr. Mildmay’s Cabinet?” + +“That is a question which a man may hardly answer himself,” said Mr. +Monk. + +“It is a question which a man should at least answer for himself +before he consents to sit there,” said Mr. Turnbull, in a tone of +voice which was almost angry. + +“And what reason have you for supposing that I have omitted that +duty?” said Mr. Monk. + +“Simply this,--that I cannot reconcile your known opinions with the +practices of your colleagues.” + +“I will not tell you what my convictions may be worth in Mr. +Mildmay’s Cabinet. I will not take upon myself to say that they are +worth the chair on which I sit when I am there. But I will tell you +what my aspirations were when I consented to fill that chair, and you +shall judge of their worth. I thought that they might possibly leaven +the batch of bread which we have to bake,--giving to the whole batch +more of the flavour of reform than it would have possessed had I +absented myself. I thought that when I was asked to join Mr. Mildmay +and Mr. Gresham, the very fact of that request indicated liberal +progress, and that if I refused the request I should be declining to +assist in good work.” + +“You could have supported them, if anything were proposed worthy of +support,” said Mr. Turnbull. + +“Yes; but I could not have been so effective in taking care that +some measure be proposed worthy of support as I may possibly be now. +I thought a good deal about it, and I believe that my decision was +right.” + +“I am sure you were right,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“There can be no juster object of ambition than a seat in the +Cabinet,” said Phineas. + +“Sir, I must dispute that,” said Mr. Turnbull, turning round upon our +hero. “I regard the position of our high Ministers as most +respectable.” + +“Thank you for so much,” said Mr. Monk. But the orator went on again, +regardless of the interruption:-- + +“The position of gentlemen in inferior offices,--of gentlemen who +attend rather to the nods and winks of their superiors in Downing +Street than to the interest of their constituents,--I do not regard +as being highly respectable.” + +“A man cannot begin at the top,” said Phineas. + +“Our friend Mr. Monk has begun at what you are pleased to call the +top,” said Mr. Turnbull. “But I will not profess to think that even +he has raised himself by going into office. To be an independent +representative of a really popular commercial constituency is, in my +estimation, the highest object of an Englishman’s ambition.” + +“But why commercial, Mr. Turnbull?” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“Because the commercial constituencies really do elect their own +members in accordance with their own judgments, whereas the counties +and the small towns are coerced either by individuals or by a +combination of aristocratic influences.” + +“And yet,” said Mr. Kennedy, “there are not half a dozen +Conservatives returned by all the counties in Scotland.” + +“Scotland is very much to be honoured,” said Mr. Turnbull. + +Mr. Kennedy was the first to take his departure, and Mr. Turnbull +followed him very quickly. Phineas got up to go at the same time, but +stayed at his host’s request, and sat for awhile smoking a cigar. + +“Turnbull is a wonderful man,” said Mr. Monk. + +“Does he not domineer too much?” + +“His fault is not arrogance, so much as ignorance that there is, +or should be, a difference between public and private life. In the +House of Commons a man in Mr. Turnbull’s position must speak with +dictatorial assurance. He is always addressing, not the House only, +but the country at large, and the country will not believe in him +unless he believe in himself. But he forgets that he is not always +addressing the country at large. I wonder what sort of a time Mrs. +Turnbull and the little Turnbulls have of it?” + +Phineas, as he went home, made up his mind that Mrs. Turnbull and +the little Turnbulls must probably have a bad time of it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Lord Chiltern Rides His Horse Bonebreaker + + +It was known that whatever might be the details of Mr. Mildmay’s +bill, the ballot would not form a part of it; and as there was a +strong party in the House of Commons, and a very numerous party out +of it, who were desirous that voting by ballot should be made a part +of the electoral law, it was decided that an independent motion +should be brought on in anticipation of Mr. Mildmay’s bill. The +arrangement was probably one of Mr. Mildmay’s own making; so that +he might be hampered by no opposition on that subject by his own +followers if,--as he did not doubt,--the motion should be lost. +It was expected that the debate would not last over one night, +and Phineas resolved that he would make his maiden speech on this +occasion. He had very strong opinions as to the inefficacy of the +ballot for any good purposes, and thought that he might be able to +strike out from his convictions some sparks of that fire which used +to be so plentiful with him at the old debating clubs. But even at +breakfast that morning his heart began to beat quickly at the idea +of having to stand on his legs before so critical an audience. + +He knew that it would be well that he should if possible get the +subject off his mind during the day, and therefore went out among the +people who certainly would not talk to him about the ballot. He sat +for nearly an hour in the morning with Mr. Low, and did not even tell +Mr. Low that it was his intention to speak on that day. Then he made +one or two other calls, and at about three went up to Portman Square +to look for Lord Chiltern. It was now nearly the end of February, and +Phineas had often seen Lady Laura. He had not seen her brother, but +had learned from his sister that he had been driven up to London by +the frost. He was told by the porter at Lord Brentford’s that Lord +Chiltern was in the house, and as he was passing through the hall he +met Lord Brentford himself. He was thus driven to speak, and felt +himself called upon to explain why he was there. “I am come to see +Lord Chiltern,” he said. + +“Is Lord Chiltern in the house?” said the Earl, turning to the +servant. + +“Yes, my lord; his lordship arrived last night.” + +“You will find him upstairs, I suppose,” said the Earl. “For myself +I know nothing of him.” He spoke in an angry tone, as though he +resented the fact that any one should come to his house to call upon +his son; and turned his back quickly upon Phineas. But he thought +better of it before he reached the front door, and turned again. +“By-the-bye,” said he, “what majority shall we have to-night, Finn?” + +“Pretty nearly as many as you please to name, my lord,” said Phineas. + +“Well;--yes; I suppose we are tolerably safe. You ought to speak upon +it.” + +“Perhaps I may,” said Phineas, feeling that he blushed as he spoke. + +“Do,” said the Earl. “Do. If you see Lord Chiltern will you tell him +from me that I should be glad to see him before he leaves London. I +shall be at home till noon to-morrow.” Phineas, much astonished at +the commission given to him, of course said that he would do as he +was desired, and then passed on to Lord Chiltern’s apartments. + +He found his friend standing in the middle of the room, without coat +and waistcoat, with a pair of dumb-bells in his hands. “When there’s +no hunting I’m driven to this kind of thing,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“I suppose it’s good exercise,” said Phineas. + +“And it gives me something to do. When I’m in London I feel like a +gipsy in church, till the time comes for prowling out at night. I’ve +no occupation for my days whatever, and no place to which I can take +myself. I can’t stand in a club window as some men do, and I should +disgrace any decent club if I did stand there. I belong to the +Travellers, but I doubt whether the porter would let me go in.” + +“I think you pique yourself on being more of an outer Bohemian than +you are,” said Phineas. + +“I pique myself on this, that whether Bohemian or not, I will go +nowhere that I am not wanted. Though,--for the matter of that, I +suppose I’m not wanted here.” Then Phineas gave him the message from +his father. “He wishes to see me to-morrow morning?” continued Lord +Chiltern. “Let him send me word what it is he has to say to me. I do +not choose to be insulted by him, though he is my father.” + +“I would certainly go, if I were you.” + +“I doubt it very much, if all the circumstances were the same. Let +him tell me what he wants.” + +“Of course I cannot ask him, Chiltern.” + +“I know what he wants very well. Laura has been interfering and doing +no good. You know Violet Effingham?” + +“Yes; I know her,” said Phineas, much surprised. + +“They want her to marry me.” + +“And you do not wish to marry her?” + +“I did not say that. But do you think that such a girl as Miss +Effingham would marry such a man as I am? She would be much more +likely to take you. By George, she would! Do you know that she has +three thousand a year of her own?” + +“I know that she has money.” + +“That’s about the tune of it. I would take her without a shilling +to-morrow, if she would have me,--because I like her. She is the only +girl I ever did like. But what is the use of my liking her? They have +painted me so black among them, especially my father, that no decent +girl would think of marrying me.” + +“Your father can’t be angry with you if you do your best to comply +with his wishes.” + +“I don’t care a straw whether he be angry or not. He allows me eight +hundred a year, and he knows that if he stopped it I should go to the +Jews the next day. I could not help myself. He can’t leave an acre +away from me, and yet he won’t join me in raising money for the sake +of paying Laura her fortune.” + +“Lady Laura can hardly want money now.” + +“That detestable prig whom she has chosen to marry, and whom I +hate with all my heart, is richer than ever Croesus was; but +nevertheless Laura ought to have her own money. She shall have it +some day.” + +“I would see Lord Brentford, if I were you.” + +“I will think about it. Now tell me about coming down to Willingford. +Laura says you will come some day in March. I can mount you for a +couple of days and should be delighted to have you. My horses all +pull like the mischief, and rush like devils, and want a deal of +riding; but an Irishman likes that.” + +“I do not dislike it particularly.” + +“I like it. I prefer to have something to do on horseback. When +a man tells me that a horse is an armchair, I always tell him to +put the brute into his bedroom. Mind you come. The house I stay +at is called the Willingford Bull, and it’s just four miles from +Peterborough.” Phineas swore that he would go down and ride the +pulling horses, and then took his leave, earnestly advising Lord +Chiltern, as he went, to keep the appointment proposed by his father. + +When the morning came, at half-past eleven, the son, who had been +standing for half an hour with his back to the fire in the large +gloomy dining-room, suddenly rang the bell. “Tell the Earl,” he said +to the servant, “that I am here and will go to him if he wishes it.” +The servant came back, and said that the Earl was waiting. Then Lord +Chiltern strode after the man into his father’s room. + +“Oswald,” said the father, “I have sent for you because I think it +may be as well to speak to you on some business. Will you sit down?” +Lord Chiltern sat down, but did not answer a word. “I feel very +unhappy about your sister’s fortune,” said the Earl. + +“So do I,--very unhappy. We can raise the money between us, and pay +her to-morrow, if you please it.” + +“It was in opposition to my advice that she paid your debts.” + +“And in opposition to mine too.” + +“I told her that I would not pay them, and were I to give her back +to-morrow, as you say, the money that she has so used, I should be +stultifying myself. But I will do so on one condition. I will join +with you in raising the money for your sister, on one condition.” + +“What is that?” + +“Laura tells me,--indeed she has told me often,--that you are +attached to Violet Effingham.” + +“But Violet Effingham, my lord, is unhappily not attached to me.” + +“I do not know how that may be. Of course I cannot say. I have never +taken the liberty of interrogating her upon the subject.” + +“Even you, my lord, could hardly have done that.” + +“What do you mean by that? I say that I never have,” said the Earl, +angrily. + +“I simply mean that even you could hardly have asked Miss Effingham +such a question. I have asked her, and she has refused me.” + +“But girls often do that, and yet accept afterwards the men whom they +have refused. Laura tells me that she believes that Violet would +consent if you pressed your suit.” + +“Laura knows nothing about it, my lord.” + +“There you are probably wrong. Laura and Violet are very close +friends, and have no doubt discussed this matter between them. At any +rate, it may be as well that you should hear what I have to say. Of +course I shall not interfere myself. There is no ground on which I +can do so with propriety.” + +“None whatever,” said Lord Chiltern. + +The Earl became very angry, and nearly broke down in his anger. He +paused for a moment, feeling disposed to tell his son to go and never +to see him again. But he gulped down his wrath, and went on with his +speech. “My meaning, sir, is this;--that I have so great faith in +Violet Effingham, that I would receive her acceptance of your hand as +the only proof which would be convincing to me of amendment in your +mode of life. If she were to do so, I would join with you in raising +money to pay your sister, would make some further sacrifice with +reference to an income for you and your wife, and--would make you +both welcome to Saulsby,--if you chose to come.” The Earl’s voice +hesitated much and became almost tremulous as he made the last +proposition. And his eyes had fallen away from his son’s gaze, and +he had bent a little over the table, and was moved. But he recovered +himself at once, and added, with all proper dignity, “If you have +anything to say I shall be glad to hear it.” + +“All your offers would be nothing, my lord, if I did not like the +girl.” + +“I should not ask you to marry a girl if you did not like her, as you +call it.” + +“But as to Miss Effingham, it happens that our wishes jump together. +I have asked her, and she has refused me. I don’t even know where +to find her to ask her again. If I went to Lady Baldock’s house the +servants would not let me in.” + +“And whose fault is that?” + +“Yours partly, my lord. You have told everybody that I am the devil, +and now all the old women believe it.” + +“I never told anybody so.” + +“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I will go down to Lady Baldock’s to-day. +I suppose she is at Baddingham. And if I can get speech of Miss +Effingham--” + +“Miss Effingham is not at Baddingham. Miss Effingham is staying with +your sister in Grosvenor Place. I saw her yesterday.” + +“She is in London?” + +“I tell you that I saw her yesterday.” + +“Very well, my lord. Then I will do the best I can. Laura will tell +you of the result.” + +The father would have given the son some advice as to the mode in +which he should put forward his claim upon Violet’s hand, but the son +would not wait to hear it. Choosing to presume that the conference +was over, he went back to the room in which he had kept his +dumb-bells, and for a minute or two went to work at his favourite +exercise. But he soon put the dumb-bells down, and began to prepare +himself for his work. If this thing was to be done, it might as +well be done at once. He looked out of his window, and saw that the +streets were in a mess of slush. White snow was becoming black mud, +as it will do in London; and the violence of frost was giving way to +the horrors of thaw. All would be soft and comparatively pleasant in +Northamptonshire on the following morning, and if everything went +right he would breakfast at the Willingford Bull. He would go down by +the hunting train, and be at the inn by ten. The meet was only six +miles distant, and all would be pleasant. He would do this whatever +might be the result of his work to-day;--but in the meantime he would +go and do his work. He had a cab called, and within half an hour of +the time at which he had left his father, he was at the door of his +sister’s house in Grosvenor Place. The servants told him that the +ladies were at lunch. “I can’t eat lunch,” he said. “Tell them that I +am in the drawing-room.” + +“He has come to see you,” said Lady Laura, as soon as the servant had +left the room. + +“I hope not,” said Violet. + +“Do not say that.” + +“But I do say it. I hope he has not come to see me;--that is, not to +see me specially. Of course I cannot pretend not to know what you +mean.” + +“He may think it civil to call if he has heard that you are in town,” +said Lady Laura, after a pause. + +“If it be only that, I will be civil in return;--as sweet as May to +him. If it be really only that, and if I were sure of it, I should +be really glad to see him.” Then they finished their lunch, and Lady +Laura got up and led the way to the drawing-room. + +“I hope you remember,” said she, gravely, “that you might be a +saviour to him.” + +“I do not believe in girls being saviours to men. It is the man who +should be the saviour to the girl. If I marry at all, I have the +right to expect that protection shall be given to me,--not that I +shall have to give it.” + +“Violet, you are determined to misrepresent what I mean.” + +Lord Chiltern was walking about the room, and did not sit down when +they entered. The ordinary greetings took place, and Miss Effingham +made some remark about the frost. “But it seems to be going,” she +said, “and I suppose that you will soon be at work again?” + +“Yes;--I shall hunt to-morrow,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“And the next day, and the next, and the next,” said Violet, “till +about the middle of April;--and then your period of misery will +begin!” + +“Exactly,” said Lord Chiltern. “I have nothing but hunting that I can +call an occupation.” + +“Why don’t you make one?” said his sister. + +“I mean to do so, if it be possible. Laura, would you mind leaving me +and Miss Effingham alone for a few minutes?” + +Lady Laura got up, and so also did Miss Effingham. “For what +purpose?” said the latter. “It cannot be for any good purpose.” + +“At any rate I wish it, and I will not harm you.” Lady Laura was now +going, but paused before she reached the door. “Laura, will you do as +I ask you?” said the brother. Then Lady Laura went. + +“It was not that I feared you would harm me, Lord Chiltern,” said +Violet. + +“No;--I know it was not. But what I say is always said awkwardly. An +hour ago I did not know that you were in town, but when I was told +the news I came at once. My father told me.” + +“I am so glad that you see your father.” + +“I have not spoken to him for months before, and probably may not +speak to him for months again. But there is one point, Violet, on +which he and I agree.” + +“I hope there will soon be many.” + +“It is possible,--but I fear not probable. Look here, Violet,”--and +he looked at her with all his eyes, till it seemed to her that he was +all eyes, so great was the intensity of his gaze;--“I should scorn +myself were I to permit myself to come before you with a plea for +your favour founded on my father’s whims. My father is unreasonable, +and has been very unjust to me. He has ever believed evil of me, and +has believed it often when all the world knew that he was wrong. I +care little for being reconciled to a father who has been so cruel to +me.” + +“He loves me dearly, and is my friend. I would rather that you should +not speak against him to me.” + +“You will understand, at least, that I am asking nothing from you +because he wishes it. Laura probably has told you that you may make +things straight by becoming my wife.” + +“She has,--certainly, Lord Chiltern.” + +“It is an argument that she should never have used. It is an argument +to which you should not listen for a moment. Make things straight +indeed! Who can tell? There would be very little made straight by +such a marriage, if it were not that I loved you. Violet, that is +my plea, and my only one. I love you so well that I do believe that +if you took me I should return to the old ways, and become as other +men are, and be in time as respectable, as stupid,--and perhaps as +ill-natured as old Lady Baldock herself.” + +“My poor aunt!” + +“You know she says worse things of me than that. Now, dearest, you +have heard all that I have to say to you.” As he spoke he came close +to her, and put out his hand,--but she did not touch it. “I have no +other argument to use,--not a word more to say. As I came here in +the cab I was turning it over in my mind that I might find what best +I should say. But, after all, there is nothing more to be said than +that.” + +“The words make no difference,” she replied. + +“Not unless they be so uttered as to force a belief. I do love you. I +know no other reason but that why you should be my wife. I have no +other excuse to offer for coming to you again. You are the one thing +in the world that to me has any charm. Can you be surprised that I +should be persistent in asking for it?” He was looking at her still +with the same gaze, and there seemed to be a power in his eye from +which she could not escape. He was still standing with his right hand +out, as though expecting, or at least hoping, that her hand might be +put into his. + +“How am I to answer you?” she said. + +“With your love, if you can give it to me. Do you remember how you +swore once that you would love me for ever and always?” + +“You should not remind me of that. I was a child then,--a naughty +child,” she added, smiling; “and was put to bed for what I did on +that day.” + +“Be a child still.” + +“Ah, if we but could!” + +“And have you no other answer to make me?” + +“Of course I must answer you. You are entitled to an answer. Lord +Chiltern, I am sorry that I cannot give you the love for which you +ask.” + +“Never?” + +“Never.” + +“Is it myself personally, or what you have heard of me, that is so +hateful to you?” + +“Nothing is hateful to me. I have never spoken of hate. I shall +always feel the strongest regard for my old friend and playfellow. +But there are many things which a woman is bound to consider before +she allows herself so to love a man that she can consent to become +his wife.” + +“Allow herself! Then it is a matter entirely of calculation.” + +“I suppose there should be some thought in it, Lord Chiltern.” + +There was now a pause, and the man’s hand was at last allowed to +drop, as there came no response to the proffered grasp. He walked +once or twice across the room before he spoke again, and then he +stopped himself closely opposite to her. + +“I shall never try again,” he said. + +“It will be better so,” she replied. + +“There is something to me unmanly in a man’s persecuting a girl. Just +tell Laura, will you, that it is all over; and she may as well tell +my father. Good-bye.” + +She then tendered her hand to him, but he did not take it,--probably +did not see it, and at once left the room and the house. + +“And yet I believe you love him,” Lady Laura said to her friend +in her anger, when they discussed the matter immediately on Lord +Chiltern’s departure. + +“You have no right to say that, Laura.” + +“I have a right to my belief, and I do believe it. I think you love +him, and that you lack the courage to risk yourself in trying to save +him.” + +“Is a woman bound to marry a man if she love him?” + +“Yes, she is,” replied Lady Laura impetuously, without thinking of +what she was saying; “that is, if she be convinced that she also is +loved.” + +“Whatever be the man’s character;--whatever be the circumstances? +Must she do so, whatever friends may say to the contrary? Is there to +be no prudence in marriage?” + +“There may be a great deal too much prudence,” said Lady Laura. + +“That is true. There is certainly too much prudence if a woman +marries prudently, but without love.” Violet intended by this no +attack upon her friend,--had not had present in her mind at the +moment any idea of Lady Laura’s special prudence in marrying Mr. +Kennedy; but Lady Laura felt it keenly, and knew at once that an +arrow had been shot which had wounded her. + +“We shall get nothing,” she said, “by descending to personalities +with each other.” + +“I meant none, Laura.” + +“I suppose it is always hard,” said Lady Laura, “for any one person +to judge altogether of the mind of another. If I have said anything +severe of your refusal of my brother, I retract it. I only wish that +it could have been otherwise.” + +Lord Chiltern, when he left his sister’s house, walked through the +slush and dirt to a haunt of his in the neighbourhood of Covent +Garden, and there he remained through the whole afternoon and +evening. A certain Captain Clutterbuck joined him, and dined with +him. He told nothing to Captain Clutterbuck of his sorrow, but +Captain Clutterbuck could see that he was unhappy. + +“Let’s have another bottle of ‘cham,’” said Captain Clutterbuck, when +their dinner was nearly over. “‘Cham’ is the only thing to screw one +up when one is down a peg.” + +“You can have what you like,” said Lord Chiltern; “but I shall have +some brandy-and-water.” + +“The worst of brandy-and-water is, that one gets tired of it before +the night is over,” said Captain Clutterbuck. + +Nevertheless, Lord Chiltern did go down to Peterborough the next day +by the hunting train, and rode his horse Bonebreaker so well in that +famous run from Sutton springs to Gidding that after the run young +Piles,--of the house of Piles, Sarsnet, and Gingham,--offered him +three hundred pounds for the animal. + +“He isn’t worth above fifty,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“But I’ll give you the three hundred,” said Piles. + +“You couldn’t ride him if you’d got him,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“Oh, couldn’t I!” said Piles. But Mr. Piles did not continue the +conversation, contenting himself with telling his friend Grogram that +that red devil Chiltern was as drunk as a lord. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Debate on the Ballot + + +Phineas took his seat in the House with a consciousness of much +inward trepidation of heart on that night of the ballot debate. After +leaving Lord Chiltern he went down to his club and dined alone. Three +or four men came and spoke to him; but he could not talk to them at +his ease, nor did he quite know what they were saying to him. He +was going to do something which he longed to achieve, but the very +idea of which, now that it was so near to him, was a terror to him. +To be in the House and not to speak would, to his thinking, be a +disgraceful failure. Indeed, he could not continue to keep his seat +unless he spoke. He had been put there that he might speak. He would +speak. Of course he would speak. Had he not already been conspicuous +almost as a boy orator? And yet, at this moment he did not know +whether he was eating mutton or beef, or who was standing opposite to +him and talking to him, so much was he in dread of the ordeal which +he had prepared for himself. As he went down to the House after +dinner, he almost made up his mind that it would be a good thing to +leave London by one of the night mail trains. He felt himself to be +stiff and stilted as he walked, and that his clothes were uneasy to +him. When he turned into Westminster Hall he regretted more keenly +than ever he had done that he had seceded from the keeping of Mr. +Low. He could, he thought, have spoken very well in court, and would +there have learned that self-confidence which now failed him so +terribly. It was, however, too late to think of that. He could only +go in and take his seat. + +He went in and took his seat, and the chamber seemed to him to be +mysteriously large, as though benches were crowded over benches, and +galleries over galleries. He had been long enough in the House to +have lost the original awe inspired by the Speaker and the clerks of +the House, by the row of Ministers, and by the unequalled importance +of the place. On ordinary occasions he could saunter in and out, and +whisper at his ease to a neighbour. But on this occasion he went +direct to the bench on which he ordinarily sat, and began at once to +rehearse to himself his speech. He had in truth been doing this all +day, in spite of the effort that he had made to rid himself of all +memory of the occasion. He had been collecting the heads of his +speech while Mr. Low had been talking to him, and refreshing his +quotations in the presence of Lord Chiltern and the dumb-bells. He +had taxed his memory and his intellect with various tasks, which, +as he feared, would not adjust themselves one with another. He had +learned the headings of his speech,--so that one heading might follow +the other, and nothing be forgotten. And he had learned verbatim the +words which he intended to utter under each heading,--with a hope +that if any one compact part should be destroyed or injured in its +compactness by treachery of memory, or by the course of the debate, +each other compact part might be there in its entirety, ready for +use;--or at least so many of the compact parts as treachery of +memory and the accidents of the debate might leave to him; so +that his speech might be like a vessel, watertight in its various +compartments, that would float by the buoyancy of its stern and bow, +even though the hold should be waterlogged. But this use of his +composed words, even though he should be able to carry it through, +would not complete his work;--for it would be his duty to answer in +some sort those who had gone before him, and in order to do this he +must be able to insert, without any prearrangement of words or ideas, +little intercalatory parts between those compact masses of argument +with which he had been occupying himself for many laborious hours. As +he looked round upon the House and perceived that everything was dim +before him, that all his original awe of the House had returned, and +with it a present quaking fear that made him feel the pulsations +of his own heart, he became painfully aware that the task he had +prepared for himself was too great. He should, on this the occasion +of his rising to his maiden legs, have either prepared for himself +a short general speech, which could indeed have done little for his +credit in the House, but which might have served to carry off the +novelty of the thing, and have introduced him to the sound of his own +voice within those walls,--or he should have trusted to what his wit +and spirit would produce for him on the spur of the moment, and not +have burdened himself with a huge exercise of memory. During the +presentation of a few petitions he tried to repeat to himself the +first of his compact parts,--a compact part on which, as it might +certainly be brought into use let the debate have gone as it might, +he had expended great care. He had flattered himself that there +was something of real strength in his words as he repeated them to +himself in the comfortable seclusion of his own room, and he had made +them so ready to his tongue that he thought it to be impossible that +he should forget even an intonation. Now he found that he could not +remember the first phrases without unloosing and looking at a small +roll of paper which he held furtively in his hand. What was the good +of looking at it? He would forget it again in the next moment. He had +intended to satisfy the most eager of his friends, and to astound his +opponents. As it was, no one would be satisfied,--and none astounded +but they who had trusted in him. + +The debate began, and if the leisure afforded by a long and tedious +speech could have served him, he might have had leisure enough. He +tried at first to follow all that this advocate for the ballot might +say, hoping thence to acquire the impetus of strong interest; but he +soon wearied of the work, and began to long that the speech might +be ended, although the period of his own martyrdom would thereby +be brought nearer to him. At half-past seven so many members had +deserted their seats, that Phineas began to think that he might be +saved all further pains by a “count out.” He reckoned the members +present and found that they were below the mystic forty,--first by +two, then by four, by five, by seven, and at one time by eleven. +It was not for him to ask the Speaker to count the House, but he +wondered that no one else should do so. And yet, as the idea of this +termination to the night’s work came upon him, and as he thought of +his lost labour, he almost took courage again,--almost dreaded rather +than wished for the interference of some malicious member. But there +was no malicious member then present, or else it was known that Lords +of the Treasury and Lords of the Admiralty would flock in during +the Speaker’s ponderous counting,--and thus the slow length of the +ballot-lover’s verbosity was permitted to evolve itself without +interruption. At eight o’clock he had completed his catalogue of +illustrations, and immediately Mr. Monk rose from the Treasury bench +to explain the grounds on which the Government must decline to +support the motion before the House. + +Phineas was aware that Mr. Monk intended to speak, and was aware also +that his speech would be very short. “My idea is,” he had said to +Phineas, “that every man possessed of the franchise should dare to +have and to express a political opinion of his own; that otherwise +the franchise is not worth having; and that men will learn that when +all so dare, no evil can come from such daring. As the ballot would +make any courage of that kind unnecessary, I dislike the ballot. I +shall confine myself to that, and leave the illustration to younger +debaters.” Phineas also had been informed that Mr. Turnbull would +reply to Mr. Monk, with the purpose of crushing Mr. Monk into dust, +and Phineas had prepared his speech with something of an intention of +subsequently crushing Mr. Turnbull. He knew, however, that he could +not command his opportunity. There was the chapter of accidents to +which he must accommodate himself; but such had been his programme +for the evening. + +Mr. Monk made his speech,--and though he was short, he was very fiery +and energetic. Quick as lightning words of wrath and scorn flew from +him, in which he painted the cowardice, the meanness, the falsehood +of the ballot. “The ballot-box,” he said, “was the grave of all true +political opinion.” Though he spoke hardly for ten minutes, he seemed +to say more than enough, ten times enough, to slaughter the argument +of the former speaker. At every hot word as it fell Phineas was +driven to regret that a paragraph of his own was taken away from him, +and that his choicest morsels of standing ground were being cut from +under his feet. When Mr. Monk sat down, Phineas felt that Mr. Monk +had said all that he, Phineas Finn, had intended to say. + +Then Mr. Turnbull rose slowly from the bench below the gangway. With +a speaker so frequent and so famous as Mr. Turnbull no hurry is +necessary. He is sure to have his opportunity. The Speaker’s eye is +ever travelling to the accustomed spots. Mr. Turnbull rose slowly and +began his oration very mildly. “There was nothing,” he said, “that he +admired so much as the poetic imagery and the high-flown sentiment +of his right honourable friend the member for West Bromwich,”--Mr. +Monk sat for West Bromwich,--“unless it were the stubborn facts and +unanswered arguments of his honourable friend who had brought forward +this motion.” Then Mr. Turnbull proceeded after his fashion to crush +Mr. Monk. He was very prosaic, very clear both in voice and language, +very harsh, and very unscrupulous. He and Mr. Monk had been joined +together in politics for over twenty years;--but one would have +thought, from Mr. Turnbull’s words, that they had been the bitterest +of enemies. Mr. Monk was taunted with his office, taunted with his +desertion of the liberal party, taunted with his ambition,--and +taunted with his lack of ambition. “I once thought,” said Mr. +Turnbull,--“nay, not long ago I thought, that he and I would have +fought this battle for the people, shoulder to shoulder, and knee to +knee;--but he has preferred that the knee next to his own shall wear +a garter, and that the shoulder which supports him shall be decked +with a blue ribbon,--as shoulders, I presume, are decked in those +closet conferences which are called Cabinets.” + +Just after this, while Mr. Turnbull was still going on with a variety +of illustrations drawn from the United States, Barrington Erle +stepped across the benches up to the place where Phineas was sitting, +and whispered a few words into his ear. “Bonteen is prepared to +answer Turnbull, and wishes to do it. I told him that I thought you +should have the opportunity, if you wish it.” Phineas was not ready +with a reply to Erle at the spur of the moment. “Somebody told +me,” continued Erle, “that you had said that you would like to speak +to-night.” + +“So I did,” said Phineas. + +“Shall I tell Bonteen that you will do it?” + +The chamber seemed to swim round before our hero’s eyes. Mr. Turnbull +was still going on with his clear, loud, unpleasant voice, but there +was no knowing how long he might go on. Upon Phineas, if he should +now consent, might devolve the duty, within ten minutes, within three +minutes, of rising there before a full House to defend his great +friend, Mr. Monk, from a gross personal attack. Was it fit that +such a novice as he should undertake such a work as that? Were he +to do so, all that speech which he had prepared, with its various +self-floating parts, must go for nothing. The task was exactly that +which, of all tasks, he would best like to have accomplished, and +to have accomplished well. But if he should fail! And he felt that +he would fail. For such work a man should have all his senses +about him,--his full courage, perfect confidence, something almost +approaching to contempt for listening opponents, and nothing of fear +in regard to listening friends. He should be as a cock in his own +farmyard, master of all the circumstances around him. But Phineas +Finn had not even as yet heard the sound of his own voice in that +room. At this moment, so confused was he, that he did not know where +sat Mr. Mildmay, and where Mr. Daubeny. All was confused, and there +arose as it were a sound of waters in his ears, and a feeling as of a +great hell around him. “I had rather wait,” he said at last. “Bonteen +had better reply.” Barrington Erle looked into his face, and then +stepping back across the benches, told Mr. Bonteen that the +opportunity was his. + +Mr. Turnbull continued speaking quite long enough to give poor +Phineas time for repentance; but repentance was of no use. He had +decided against himself, and his decision could not be reversed. He +would have left the House, only it seemed to him that had he done so +every one would look at him. He drew his hat down over his eyes, and +remained in his place, hating Mr. Bonteen, hating Barrington Erle, +hating Mr. Turnbull,--but hating no one so much as he hated himself. +He had disgraced himself for ever and could never recover the +occasion which he had lost. + +Mr. Bonteen’s speech was in no way remarkable. Mr. Monk, he said, had +done the State good service by adding his wisdom and patriotism to +the Cabinet. The sort of argument which Mr. Bonteen used to prove +that a man who has gained credit as a legislator should in process of +time become a member of the executive, is trite and common, and was +not used by Mr. Bonteen with any special force. Mr. Bonteen was glib +of tongue and possessed that familiarity with the place which poor +Phineas had lacked so sorely. There was one moment, however, which +was terrible to Phineas. As soon as Mr. Bonteen had shown the purpose +for which he was on his legs, Mr. Monk looked round at Phineas, as +though in reproach. He had expected that this work should fall into +the hands of one who would perform it with more warmth of heart than +could be expected from Mr. Bonteen. When Mr. Bonteen ceased, two or +three other short speeches were made and members fired off their +little guns. Phineas having lost so great an opportunity, would not +now consent to accept one that should be comparatively valueless. +Then there came a division. The motion was lost by a large +majority,--by any number you might choose to name, as Phineas had +said to Lord Brentford; but in that there was no triumph to the poor +wretch who had failed through fear, and who was now a coward in his +own esteem. + +He left the House alone, carefully avoiding all speech with any one. +As he came out he had seen Laurence Fitzgibbon in the lobby, but he +had gone on without pausing a moment, so that he might avoid his +friend. And when he was out in Palace Yard, where was he to go next? +He looked at his watch, and found that it was just ten. He did not +dare to go to his club, and it was impossible for him to go home and +to bed. He was very miserable, and nothing would comfort him but +sympathy. Was there any one who would listen to his abuse of himself, +and would then answer him with kindly apologies for his own weakness? +Mrs. Bunce would do it if she knew how, but sympathy from Mrs. Bunce +would hardly avail. There was but one person in the world to whom he +could tell his own humiliation with any hope of comfort, and that +person was Lady Laura Kennedy. Sympathy from any man would have been +distasteful to him. He had thought for a moment of flinging himself +at Mr. Monk’s feet and telling all his weakness;--but he could not +have endured pity even from Mr. Monk. It was not to be endured from +any man. + +He thought that Lady Laura Kennedy would be at home, and probably +alone. He knew, at any rate, that he might be allowed to knock at her +door, even at that hour. He had left Mr. Kennedy in the House, and +there he would probably remain for the next hour. There was no man +more constant than Mr. Kennedy in seeing the work of the day,--or of +the night,--to its end. So Phineas walked up Victoria Street, and +from thence into Grosvenor Place, and knocked at Lady Laura’s door. +“Yes; Lady Laura was at home; and alone.” He was shown up into the +drawing-room, and there he found Lady Laura waiting for her husband. + +“So the great debate is over,” she said, with as much of irony as she +knew how to throw into the epithet. + +“Yes; it is over.” + +“And what have they done,--those leviathans of the people?” + +Then Phineas told her what was the majority. + +“Is there anything the matter with you, Mr. Finn?” she said, looking +at him suddenly. “Are you not well?” + +“Yes; I am very well.” + +“Will you not sit down? There is something wrong, I know. What is +it?” + +“I have simply been the greatest idiot, the greatest coward, the most +awkward ass that ever lived!” + +“What do you mean?” + +“I do not know why I should come to tell you of it at this hour at +night, but I have come that I might tell you. Probably because there +is no one else in the whole world who would not laugh at me.” + +“At any rate, I shall not laugh at you,” said Lady Laura. + +“But you will despise me.” + +“That I am sure I shall not do.” + +“You cannot help it. I despise myself. For years I have placed before +myself the ambition of speaking in the House of Commons;--for years I +have been thinking whether there would ever come to me an opportunity +of making myself heard in that assembly, which I consider to be +the first in the world. To-day the opportunity has been offered to +me,--and, though the motion was nothing, the opportunity was great. +The subject was one on which I was thoroughly prepared. The manner +in which I was summoned was most flattering to me. I was especially +called on to perform a task which was most congenial to my +feelings;--and I declined because I was afraid.” + +“You had thought too much about it, my friend,” said Lady Laura. + +“Too much or too little, what does it matter?” replied Phineas, in +despair. “There is the fact. I could not do it. Do you remember the +story of Conachar in the ‘Fair Maid of Perth;’--how his heart refused +to give him blood enough to fight? He had been suckled with the milk +of a timid creature, and, though he could die, there was none of the +strength of manhood in him. It is about the same thing with me, I +take it.” + +“I do not think you are at all like Conachar,” said Lady Laura. + +“I am equally disgraced, and I must perish after the same fashion. I +shall apply for the Chiltern Hundreds in a day or two.” + +“You will do nothing of the kind,” said Lady Laura, getting up from +her chair and coming towards him. “You shall not leave this room till +you have promised me that you will do nothing of the kind. I do not +know as yet what has occurred to-night; but I do know that that +modesty which has kept you silent is more often a grace than a +disgrace.” + +This was the kind of sympathy which he wanted, She drew her chair +nearer to him, and then he explained to her as accurately as he could +what had taken place in the House on this evening,--how he had +prepared his speech, how he had felt that his preparation was vain, +how he perceived from the course of the debate that if he spoke +at all his speech must be very different from what he had first +intended; how he had declined to take upon himself a task which +seemed to require so close a knowledge of the ways of the House and +of the temper of the men, as the defence of such a man as Mr. Monk. +In accusing himself he, unconsciously, excused himself, and his +excuse, in Lady Laura’s ears, was more valid than his accusation. + +“And you would give it all up for that?” she said. + +“Yes; I think I ought.” + +“I have very little doubt but that you were right in allowing Mr. +Bonteen to undertake such a task. I should simply explain to Mr. Monk +that you felt too keen an interest in his welfare to stand up as an +untried member in his defence. It is not, I think, the work for a man +who is not at home in the House. I am sure Mr. Monk will feel this, +and I am quite certain that Mr. Kennedy will think that you have been +right.” + +“I do not care what Mr. Kennedy may think.” + +“Why do you say that, Mr. Finn? That is not courteous.” + +“Simply because I care so much what Mr. Kennedy’s wife may think. +Your opinion is all in all to me,--only that I know you are too kind +to me.” + +“He would not be too kind to you. He is never too kind to any one. He +is justice itself.” + +Phineas, as he heard the tones of her voice, could not but feel that +there was in Lady Laura’s words something of an accusation against +her husband. + +“I hate justice,” said Phineas. “I know that justice would condemn +me. But love and friendship know nothing of justice. The value of +love is that it overlooks faults, and forgives even crimes.” + +“I, at any rate,” said Lady Laura, “will forgive the crime of your +silence in the House. My strong belief in your success will not be in +the least affected by what you tell me of your failure to-night. You +must await another opportunity; and, if possible, you should be less +anxious as to your own performance. There is Violet.” As Lady Laura +spoke the last words, there was a sound of a carriage stopping in the +street, and the front door was immediately opened. “She is staying +here, but has been dining with her uncle, Admiral Effingham.” Then +Violet Effingham entered the room, rolled up in pretty white furs, +and silk cloaks, and lace shawls. “Here is Mr. Finn, come to tell us +of the debate about the ballot.” + +“I don’t care twopence about the ballot,” said Violet, as she put out +her hand to Phineas. “Are we going to have a new iron fleet built? +That’s the question.” + +“Sir Simeon has come out strong to-night,” said Lady Laura. + +“There is no political question of any importance except the question +of the iron fleet,” said Violet. “I am quite sure of that, and so, if +Mr. Finn can tell me nothing about the iron fleet, I’ll go to bed.” + +“Mr. Kennedy will tell you everything when he comes home,” said +Phineas. + +“Oh, Mr. Kennedy! Mr. Kennedy never tells one anything. I doubt +whether Mr. Kennedy thinks that any woman knows the meaning of the +British Constitution.” + +“Do you know what it means, Violet?” asked Lady Laura. + +“To be sure I do. It is liberty to growl about the iron fleet, or +the ballot, or the taxes, or the peers, or the bishops,--or anything +else, except the House of Commons. That’s the British Constitution. +Good-night, Mr. Finn.” + +“What a beautiful creature she is!” said Phineas. + +“Yes, indeed,” said Lady Laura. + +“And full of wit and grace and pleasantness. I do not wonder at your +brother’s choice.” + +It will be remembered that this was said on the day before Lord +Chiltern had made his offer for the third time. + +“Poor Oswald! he does not know as yet that she is in town.” + +After that Phineas went, not wishing to await the return of Mr. +Kennedy. He had felt that Violet Effingham had come into the room +just in time to remedy a great difficulty. He did not wish to speak +of his love to a married woman,--to the wife of the man who called +him friend,--to a woman who he felt sure would have rebuked him. But +he could hardly have restrained himself had not Miss Effingham been +there. + +But as he went home he thought more of Miss Effingham than he did of +Lady Laura; and I think that the voice of Miss Effingham had done +almost as much towards comforting him as had the kindness of the +other. + +At any rate, he had been comforted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +“Do be punctual” + + +On the very morning after his failure in the House of Commons, when +Phineas was reading in the _Telegraph_,--he took the _Telegraph_ not +from choice but for economy,--the words of that debate which he had +heard and in which he should have taken a part, a most unwelcome +visit was paid to him. It was near eleven, and the breakfast things +were still on the table. He was at this time on a Committee of the +House with reference to the use of potted peas in the army and +navy, at which he had sat once,--at a preliminary meeting,--and in +reference to which he had already resolved that as he had failed so +frightfully in debate, he would certainly do his duty to the utmost +in the more easy but infinitely more tedious work of the Committee +Room. The Committee met at twelve, and he intended to walk down to +the Reform Club, and then to the House. He had just completed his +reading of the debate and of the leaders in the _Telegraph_ on the +subject. He had told himself how little the writer of the article +knew about Mr. Turnbull, how little about Mr. Monk, and how little +about the people,--such being his own ideas as to the qualifications +of the writer of that leading article,--and was about to start. But +Mrs. Bunce arrested him by telling him that there was a man below who +wanted to see him. + +“What sort of a man, Mrs. Bunce?” + +“He ain’t a gentleman, sir.” + +“Did he give his name?” + +“He did not, sir; but I know it’s about money. I know the ways of +them so well. I’ve seen this one’s face before somewhere.” + +“You had better show him up,” said Phineas. He knew well the business +on which the man was come. The man wanted money for that bill which +Laurence Fitzgibbon had sent afloat, and which Phineas had endorsed. +Phineas had never as yet fallen so deeply into troubles of money as +to make it necessary that he need refuse himself to any callers on +that score, and he did not choose to do so now. Nevertheless he most +heartily wished that he had left his lodgings for the club before the +man had come. This was not the first he had heard of the bill being +overdue and unpaid. The bill had been brought to him noted a month +since, and then he had simply told the youth who brought it that he +would see Mr. Fitzgibbon and have the matter settled. He had spoken +to his friend Laurence, and Laurence had simply assured him that all +should be made right in two days,--or, at furthest, by the end of +a week. Since that time he had observed that his friend had been +somewhat shy of speaking to him when no others were with them. +Phineas would not have alluded to the bill had he and Laurence been +alone together; but he had been quick enough to guess from his +friend’s manner that the matter was not settled. Now, no doubt, +serious trouble was about to commence. + +The visitor was a little man with grey hair and a white cravat, some +sixty years of age, dressed in black, with a very decent hat,--which, +on entering the room, he at once put down on the nearest chair,--with +reference to whom, any judge on the subject would have concurred at +first sight in the decision pronounced by Mrs. Bunce, though none +but a judge very well used to sift the causes of his own conclusions +could have given the reasons for that early decision. “He ain’t a +gentleman,” Mrs. Bunce had said. And the man certainly was not a +gentleman. The old man in the white cravat was very neatly dressed, +and carried himself without any of that humility which betrays one +class of uncertified aspirants to gentility, or of that assumed +arrogance which is at once fatal to another class. But, nevertheless, +Mrs. Bunce had seen at a glance that he was not a gentleman,--had +seen, moreover, that such a man could have come only upon one +mission. She was right there too. This visitor had come about money. + +“About this bill, Mr. Finn,” said the visitor, proceeding to take +out of his breast coat-pocket a rather large leathern case, as he +advanced up towards the fire. “My name is Clarkson, Mr. Finn. If I +may venture so far, I’ll take a chair.” + +“Certainly, Mr. Clarkson,” said Phineas, getting up and pointing to +a seat. + +“Thankye, Mr. Finn, thankye. We shall be more comfortable doing +business sitting, shan’t we?” Whereupon the horrid little man drew +himself close in to the fire, and spreading out his leathern case +upon his knees, began to turn over one suspicious bit of paper after +another, as though he were uncertain in what part of his portfolio +lay this identical bit which he was seeking. He seemed to be quite +at home, and to feel that there was no ground whatever for hurry +in such comfortable quarters. Phineas hated him at once,--with a +hatred altogether unconnected with the difficulty which his friend +Fitzgibbon had brought upon him. + +“Here it is,” said Mr. Clarkson at last. “Oh, dear me, dear me! the +third of November, and here we are in March! I didn’t think it was +so bad as this;--I didn’t indeed. This is very bad,--very bad! And +for Parliament gents, too, who should be more punctual than anybody, +because of the privilege. Shouldn’t they now, Mr. Finn?” + +“All men should be punctual, I suppose,” said Phineas. + +“Of course they should; of course they should. I always say to my +gents, ‘Be punctual, and I’ll do anything for you.’ But, perhaps, Mr. +Finn, you can hand me a cheque for this amount, and then you and I +will begin square.” + +“Indeed I cannot, Mr. Clarkson.” + +“Not hand me a cheque for it!” + +“Upon my word, no.” + +“That’s very bad;--very bad indeed. Then I suppose I must take the +half, and renew for the remainder, though I don’t like it;--I don’t +indeed.” + +“I can pay no part of that bill, Mr. Clarkson.” + +“Pay no part of it!” and Mr. Clarkson, in order that he might the +better express his surprise, arrested his hand in the very act of +poking his host’s fire. + +“If you’ll allow me, I’ll manage the fire,” said Phineas, putting out +his hand for the poker. + +But Mr. Clarkson was fond of poking fires, and would not surrender +the poker. “Pay no part of it!” he said again, holding the poker away +from Phineas in his left hand. “Don’t say that, Mr. Finn. Pray don’t +say that. Don’t drive me to be severe. I don’t like to be severe with +my gents. I’ll do anything, Mr. Finn, if you’ll only be punctual.” + +“The fact is, Mr. Clarkson, I have never had one penny of +consideration for that bill, and--” + +“Oh, Mr. Finn! oh, Mr. Finn!” and then Mr. Clarkson had his will of +the fire. + +“I never had one penny of consideration for that bill,” continued +Phineas. “Of course, I don’t deny my responsibility.” + +“No, Mr. Finn; you can’t deny that. Here it is;--Phineas Finn;--and +everybody knows you, because you’re a Parliament gent.” + +“I don’t deny it. But I had no reason to suppose that I should +be called upon for the money when I accommodated my friend, Mr. +Fitzgibbon, and I have not got it. That is the long and the short +of it. I must see him and take care that arrangements are made.” + +“Arrangements!” + +“Yes, arrangements for settling the bill.” + +“He hasn’t got the money, Mr. Finn. You know that as well as I do.” + +“I know nothing about it, Mr. Clarkson.” + +“Oh yes, Mr. Finn; you know; you know.” + +“I tell you I know nothing about it,” said Phineas, waxing angry. + +“As to Mr. Fitzgibbon, he’s the pleasantest gent that ever lived. +Isn’t he now? I’ve know’d him these ten years. I don’t suppose that +for ten years I’ve been without his name in my pocket. But, bless +you, Mr. Finn, there’s an end to everything. I shouldn’t have looked +at this bit of paper if it hadn’t been for your signature. Of course +not. You’re just beginning, and it’s natural you should want a little +help. You’ll find me always ready, if you’ll only be punctual.” + +“I tell you again, sir, that I never had a shilling out of that for +myself, and do not want any such help.” Here Mr. Clarkson smiled +sweetly. “I gave my name to my friend simply to oblige him.” + +“I like you Irish gents because you do hang together so close,” said +Mr. Clarkson. + +“Simply to oblige him,” continued Phineas. “As I said before, I know +that I am responsible; but, as I said before also, I have not the +means of taking up that bill. I will see Mr. Fitzgibbon, and let +you know what we propose to do.” Then Phineas got up from his seat +and took his hat. It was full time that he should go down to his +Committee. But Mr. Clarkson did not get up from his seat. “I’m afraid +I must ask you to leave me now, Mr. Clarkson, as I have business down +at the House.” + +“Business at the House never presses, Mr. Finn,” said Mr. Clarkson. +“That’s the best of Parliament. I’ve known Parliament gents this +thirty years and more. Would you believe it--I’ve had a Prime +Minister’s name in that portfolio; that I have; and a Lord +Chancellor’s; that I have;--and an Archbishop’s too. I know +what Parliament is, Mr. Finn. Come, come; don’t put me off with +Parliament.” + +There he sat before the fire with his pouch open before him, and +Phineas had no power of moving him. Could Phineas have paid him the +money which was manifestly due to him on the bill, the man would of +course have gone; but failing in that, Phineas could not turn him +out. There was a black cloud on the young member’s brow, and great +anger at his heart,--against Fitzgibbon rather than against the man +who was sitting there before him. “Sir,” he said, “it is really +imperative that I should go. I am pledged to an appointment at the +House at twelve, and it wants now only a quarter. I regret that your +interview with me should be so unsatisfactory, but I can only promise +you that I will see Mr. Fitzgibbon.” + +“And when shall I call again, Mr. Finn?” + +“Perhaps I had better write to you,” said Phineas. + +“Oh dear, no,” said Mr. Clarkson. “I should much prefer to look in. +Looking in is always best. We can get to understand one another in +that way. Let me see. I daresay you’re not particular. Suppose I say +Sunday morning.” + +“Really, I could not see you on Sunday morning, Mr. Clarkson.” + +“Parliament gents ain’t generally particular,--’speciaily not among +the Catholics,” pleaded Mr. Clarkson. + +“I am always engaged on Sundays,” said Phineas. + +“Suppose we say Monday,--or Tuesday. Tuesday morning at eleven. And +do be punctual, Mr. Finn. At Tuesday morning I’ll come, and then no +doubt I shall find you ready.” Whereupon Mr. Clarkson slowly put up +his bills within his portfolio, and then, before Phineas knew where +he was, had warmly shaken that poor dismayed member of Parliament by +the hand. “Only do be punctual, Mr. Finn,” he said, as he made his +way down the stairs. + +It was now twelve, and Phineas rushed off to a cab. He was in such +a fervour of rage and misery that he could hardly think of his +position, or what he had better do, till he got into the Committee +Room; and when there he could think of nothing else. He intended to +go deeply into the question of potted peas, holding an equal balance +between the assailed Government offices on the one hand, and the +advocates of the potted peas on the other. The potters of the peas, +who wanted to sell their article to the Crown, declared that an +extensive,--perhaps we may say, an unlimited,--use of the article +would save the whole army and navy from the scourges of scurvy, +dyspepsia, and rheumatism, would be the best safeguard against +typhus and other fevers, and would be an invaluable aid in all other +maladies to which soldiers and sailors are peculiarly subject. The +peas in question were grown on a large scale in Holstein, and their +growth had been fostered with the special object of doing good to the +British army and navy. The peas were so cheap that there would be a +great saving in money,--and it really had seemed to many that the +officials of the Horse Guards and the Admiralty had been actuated +by some fiendish desire to deprive their men of salutary fresh +vegetables, simply because they were of foreign growth. But the +officials of the War Office and the Admiralty declared that the +potted peas in question were hardly fit for swine. The motion for the +Committee had been made by a gentleman of the opposition, and Phineas +had been put upon it as an independent member. He had resolved to +give it all his mind, and, as far as he was concerned, to reach a +just decision, in which there should be no favour shown to the +Government side. New brooms are proverbial for thorough work, +and in this Committee work Phineas was as yet a new broom. But, +unfortunately, on this day his mind was so harassed that he could +hardly understand what was going on. It did not, perhaps, much +signify, as the witnesses examined were altogether agricultural. They +only proved the production of peas in Holstein,--a fact as to which +Phineas had no doubt. The proof was naturally slow, as the evidence +was given in German, and had to be translated into English. And +the work of the day was much impeded by a certain member who +unfortunately spoke German, who seemed to be fond of speaking German +before his brethren of the Committee, and who was curious as to +agriculture in Holstein generally. The chairman did not understand +German, and there was a difficulty in checking this gentleman, and +in making him understand that his questions were not relevant to the +issue. + +Phineas could not keep his mind during the whole afternoon from the +subject of his misfortune. What should he do if this horrid man came +to him once or twice a week? He certainly did owe the man the money. +He must admit that to himself. The man no doubt was a dishonest +knave who had discounted the bill probably at fifty per cent; but, +nevertheless, Phineas had made himself legally responsible for the +amount. The privilege of the House prohibited him from arrest. He +thought of that very often, but the thought only made him the more +unhappy. Would it not be said, and might it not be said truly, that +he had incurred this responsibility,--a responsibility which he was +altogether unequal to answer,--because he was so protected? He did +feel that a certain consciousness of his privilege had been present +to him when he had put his name across the paper, and there had been +dishonesty in that very consciousness. And of what service would his +privilege be to him, if this man could harass every hour of his +life? The man was to be with him again in a day or two, and when the +appointment had been proposed, he, Phineas, had not dared to negative +it. And how was he to escape? As for paying the bill, that with him +was altogether impossible. The man had told him,--and he had believed +the man,--that payment by Fitzgibbon was out of the question. And +yet Fitzgibbon was the son of a peer, whereas he was only the son of +a country doctor! Of course Fitzgibbon must make some effort,--some +great effort,--and have the thing settled. Alas, alas! He knew enough +of the world already to feel that the hope was vain. + +He went down from the Committee Room into the House, and he dined +at the House, and remained there until eight or nine at night; but +Fitzgibbon did not come. He then went to the Reform Club, but he was +not there. Both at the club and in the House many men spoke to him +about the debate of the previous night, expressing surprise that he +had not spoken,--making him more and more wretched. He saw Mr. Monk, +but Mr. Monk was walking arm in arm with his colleague, Mr. Palliser, +and Phineas could do no more than just speak to them. He thought that +Mr. Monk’s nod of recognition was very cold. That might be fancy, but +it certainly was a fact that Mr. Monk only nodded to him. He would +tell Mr. Monk the truth, and then, if Mr. Monk chose to quarrel with +him, he at any rate would take no step to renew their friendship. + +From the Reform Club he went to the Shakspeare, a smaller club to +which Fitzgibbon belonged,--and of which Phineas much wished to +become a member,--and to which he knew that his friend resorted when +he wished to enjoy himself thoroughly, and to be at ease in his +inn. Men at the Shakspeare could do as they pleased. There were no +politics there, no fashion, no stiffness, and no rules,--so men said; +but that was hardly true. Everybody called everybody by his Christian +name, and members smoked all over the house. They who did not belong +to the Shakspeare thought it an Elysium upon earth; and they who +did, believed it to be among Pandemoniums the most pleasant. Phineas +called at the Shakspeare, and was told by the porter that Mr. +Fitzgibbon was up-stairs. He was shown into the strangers room, and +in five minutes his friend came down to him. + +“I want you to come down to the Reform with me,” said Phineas. + +“By jingo, my dear fellow, I’m in the middle of a rubber of whist.” + +“There has been a man with me about that bill.” + +“What;--Clarkson?” + +“Yes, Clarkson,” said Phineas. + +“Don’t mind him,” said Fitzgibbon. + +“That’s nonsense. How am I to help minding him? I must mind him. He +is coming to me again on Tuesday morning.” + +“Don’t see him.” + +“How can I help seeing him?” + +“Make them say you’re not at home.” + +“He has made an appointment. He has told me that he’ll never leave me +alone. He’ll be the death of me if this is not settled.” + +“It shall be settled, my dear fellow. I’ll see about it. I’ll see +about it and write you a line. You must excuse me now, because those +fellows are waiting. I’ll have it all arranged.” + +Again as Phineas went home he thoroughly wished that he had not +seceded from Mr. Low. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Lady Baldock at Home + + +About the middle of March Lady Baldock came up from Baddingham to +London, coerced into doing so, as Violet Effingham declared, in +thorough opposition to all her own tastes, by the known wishes of her +friends and relatives. Her friends and relatives, so Miss Effingham +insinuated, were unanimous in wishing that Lady Baldock should +remain at Baddingham Park, and therefore,--that wish having been +indiscreetly expressed,--she had put herself to great inconvenience, +and had come to London in March. “Gustavus will go mad,” said Violet +to Lady Laura. The Gustavus in question was the Lord Baldock of the +present generation, Miss Effingham’s Lady Baldock being the peer’s +mother. “Why does not Lord Baldock take a house himself?” asked Lady +Laura. “Don’t you know, my dear,” Violet answered, “how much we +Baddingham people think of money? We don’t like being vexed and +driven mad, but even that is better than keeping up two households.” +As regarded Violet, the injury arising from Lady Baldock’s early +migration was very great, for she was thus compelled to move from +Grosvenor Place to Lady Baldock’s house in Berkeley Square. “As you +are so fond of being in London, Augusta and I have made up our minds +to come up before Easter,” Lady Baldock had written to her. + +“I shall go to her now,” Violet had said to her friend, “because I +have not quite made up my mind as to what I will do for the future.” + +“Marry Oswald, and be your own mistress.” + +“I mean to be my own mistress without marrying Oswald, though I don’t +see my way quite clearly as yet. I think I shall set up a little +house of my own, and let the world say what it pleases. I suppose +they couldn’t make me out to be a lunatic.” + +“I shouldn’t wonder if they were to try,” said Lady Laura. + +“They could not prevent me in any other way. But I am in the dark as +yet, and so I shall be obedient and go to my aunt.” + +Miss Effingham went to Berkeley Square, and Phineas Finn was +introduced to Lady Baldock. He had been often in Grosvenor Place, +and had seen Violet frequently. Mr. Kennedy gave periodical +dinners,--once a week,--to which everybody went who could get an +invitation; and Phineas had been a guest more than once. Indeed, in +spite of his miseries he had taken to dining out a good deal, and was +popular as an eater of dinners. He could talk when wanted, and did +not talk too much, was pleasant in manners and appearance, and had +already achieved a certain recognised position in London life. Of +those who knew him intimately, not one in twenty were aware from +whence he came, what was his parentage, or what his means of living. +He was a member of Parliament, a friend of Mr. Kennedy’s, was +intimate with Mr. Monk, though an Irishman did not as a rule herd +with other Irishmen, and was the right sort of person to have at your +house. Some people said he was a cousin of Lord Brentford’s, and +others declared that he was Lord Chiltern’s earliest friend. There he +was, however, with a position gained, and even Lady Baldock asked him +to her house. + +Lady Baldock had evenings. People went to her house, and stood about +the room and on the stairs, talked to each other for half an hour, +and went away. In these March days there was no crowding, but still +there were always enough of people there to show that Lady Baldock +was successful. Why people should have gone to Lady Baldock’s I +cannot explain;--but there are houses to which people go without +any reason. Phineas received a little card asking him to go, and he +always went. + +“I think you like my friend, Mr. Finn,” Lady Laura said to Miss +Effingham, after the first of these evenings. + +“Yes, I do. I like him decidedly.” + +“So do I. I should hardly have thought that you would have taken a +fancy to him.” + +“I hardly know what you call taking a fancy,” said Violet. “I am not +quite sure I like to be told that I have taken a fancy for a young +man.” + +“I mean no offence, my dear.” + +“Of course you don’t. But, to speak truth, I think I have rather taken +a fancy to him. There is just enough of him, but not too much. I +don’t mean materially,--in regard to his inches; but as to his mental +belongings. I hate a stupid man who can’t talk to me, and I hate a +clever man who talks me down. I don’t like a man who is too lazy to +make any effort to shine; but I particularly dislike the man who is +always striving for effect. I abominate a humble man, but yet I love to +perceive that a man acknowledges the superiority of my sex, and youth, +and all that kind of thing.” + +“You want to be flattered without plain flattery.” + +“Of course I do. A man who would tell me that I am pretty, unless he +is over seventy, ought to be kicked out of the room. But a man who +can’t show me that he thinks me so without saying a word about it, +is a lout. Now in all those matters, your friend, Mr. Finn, seems to +know what he is about. In other words, he makes himself pleasant, +and, therefore, one is glad to see him.” + +“I suppose you do not mean to fall in love with him?” + +“Not that I know of, my dear. But when I do, I’ll be sure to give you +notice.” + +I fear that there was more of earnestness in Lady Laura’s last +question than Miss Effingham had supposed. She had declared to +herself over and over again that she had never been in love with +Phineas Finn. She had acknowledged to herself, before Mr. Kennedy had +asked her hand in marriage, that there had been danger,--that she +could have learned to love the man if such love would not have been +ruinous to her,--that the romance of such a passion would have been +pleasant to her. She had gone farther than this, and had said to +herself that she would have given way to that romance, and would have +been ready to accept such love if offered to her, had she not put +it out of her own power to marry a poor man by her generosity to +her brother. Then she had thrust the thing aside, and had clearly +understood,--she thought that she had clearly understood,--that life +for her must be a matter of business. Was it not the case with nine +out of every ten among mankind, with nine hundred and ninety-nine out +of every thousand, that life must be a matter of business and not of +romance? Of course she could not marry Mr. Finn, knowing, as she did, +that neither of them had a shilling. Of all men in the world she +esteemed Mr. Kennedy the most, and when these thoughts were passing +through her mind, she was well aware that he would ask her to be +his wife. Had she not resolved that she would accept the offer, she +would not have gone to Loughlinter. Having put aside all romance as +unfitted to her life, she could, she thought, do her duty as Mr. +Kennedy’s wife. She would teach herself to love him. Nay,--she had +taught herself to love him. She was at any rate so sure of her +own heart that she would never give her husband cause to rue the +confidence he placed in her. And yet there was something sore within +her when she thought that Phineas Finn was fond of Violet Effingham. + +It was Lady Baldock’s second evening, and Phineas came to the house +at about eleven o’clock. At this time he had encountered a second +and a third interview with Mr. Clarkson, and had already failed in +obtaining any word of comfort from Laurence Fitzgibbon about the +bill. It was clear enough now that Laurence felt that they were both +made safe by their privilege, and that Mr. Clarkson should be treated +as you treat the organ-grinders. They are a nuisance and must be +endured. But the nuisance is not so great but what you can live in +comfort,--if only you are not too sore as to the annoyance. “My dear +fellow,” Laurence had said to him, “I have had Clarkson almost living +in my rooms. He used to drink nearly a pint of sherry a day for me. +All I looked to was that I didn’t live there at the same time. If you +wish it, I’ll send in the sherry.” This was very bad, and Phineas +tried to quarrel with his friend; but he found that it was difficult +to quarrel with Laurence Fitzgibbon. + +But though on this side Phineas was very miserable, on another side +he had obtained great comfort. Mr. Monk and he were better friends +than ever. “As to what Turnbull says about me in the House,” Mr. +Monk had said, laughing; “he and I understand each other perfectly. +I should like to see you on your legs, but it is just as well, +perhaps, that you have deferred it. We shall have the real question +on immediately after Easter, and then you’ll have plenty of +opportunities.” Phineas had explained how he had attempted, how he +had failed, and how he had suffered;--and Mr. Monk had been generous +in his sympathy. “I know all about it,” said he, “and have gone +through it all myself. The more respect you feel for the House, +the more satisfaction you will have in addressing it when you have +mastered this difficulty.” + +The first person who spoke to Phineas at Lady Baldock’s was Miss +Fitzgibbon, Laurence’s sister. Aspasia Fitzgibbon was a warm woman as +regarded money, and as she was moreover a most discreet spinster, +she was made welcome by Lady Baldock, in spite of the well-known +iniquities of her male relatives. “Mr. Finn,” said she, “how d’ye do? +I want to say a word to ye. Just come here into the corner.” Phineas, +not knowing how to escape, did retreat into the corner with Miss +Fitzgibbon. “Tell me now, Mr. Finn;--have ye been lending money to +Laurence?” + +“No; I have lent him no money,” said Phineas, much astonished by the +question. + +“Don’t. That’s my advice to ye. Don’t. On any other matter Laurence +is the best creature in the world,--but he’s bad to lend money to. +You ain’t in any hobble with him, then?” + +“Well;--nothing to speak of. What makes you ask?” + +“Then you are in a hobble? Dear, dear! I never saw such a man as +Laurence;--never. Good-bye. I wouldn’t do it again, if I were +you;--that’s all.” Then Miss Fitzgibbon came out of the corner and +made her way down-stairs. + +Phineas immediately afterwards came across Miss Effingham. “I did not +know,” said she, “that you and the divine Aspasia were such close +allies.” + +“We are the dearest friends in the world, but she has taken my breath +away now.” + +“May a body be told how she has done that?” Violet asked. + +“Well, no; I’m afraid not, even though the body be Miss Effingham. It +was a profound secret;--really a secret concerning a third person, +and she began about it just as though she were speaking about the +weather!” + +“How charming! I do so like her. You haven’t heard, have you, that +Mr. Ratler proposed to her the other day?” + +“No!” + +“But he did;--at least, so she tells everybody. She said she’d take +him if he would promise to get her brother’s salary doubled.” + +“Did she tell you?” + +“No; not me. And of course I don’t believe a word of it. I suppose +Barrington Erle made up the story. Are you going out of town next +week, Mr. Finn?” The week next to this was Easter-week. “I heard you +were going into Northamptonshire.” + +“From Lady Laura?” + +“Yes;--from Lady Laura.” + +“I intend to spend three days with Lord Chiltern at Willingford. It +is an old promise. I am going to ride his horses,--that is, if I am +able to ride them.” + +“Take care what you are about, Mr. Finn;--they say his horses are so +dangerous!” + +“I’m rather good at falling, I flatter myself.” + +“I know that Lord Chiltern rides anything he can sit, so long as it +is some animal that nobody else will ride. It was always so with him. +He is so odd; is he not?” + +Phineas knew, of course, that Lord Chiltern had more than once asked +Violet Effingham to be his wife,--and he believed that she, from her +intimacy with Lady Laura, must know that he knew it. He had also +heard Lady Laura express a very strong wish that, in spite of these +refusals, Violet might even yet become her brother’s wife. And +Phineas also knew that Violet Effingham was becoming, in his own +estimation, the most charming woman of his acquaintance. How was he +to talk to her about Lord Chiltern? + +“He is odd,” said Phineas; “but he is an excellent fellow,--whom his +father altogether misunderstands.” + +“Exactly,--just so; I am so glad to hear you say that,--you who have +never had the misfortune to have anything to do with a bad set. Why +don’t you tell Lord Brentford? Lord Brentford would listen to you.” + +“To me?” + +“Yes;--of course he would,--for you are just the link that is +wanting. You are Chiltern’s intimate friend, and you are also the +friend of big-wigs and Cabinet Ministers.” + +“Lord Brentford would put me down at once if I spoke to him on such a +subject.” + +“I am sure he would not. You are too big to be put down, and no man +can really dislike to hear his son well spoken of by those who are +well spoken of themselves. Won’t you try, Mr. Finn?” Phineas said +that he would think of it,--that he would try if any fit opportunity +could be found. “Of course you know how intimate I have been with the +Standishes,” said Violet; “that Laura is to me a sister, and that +Oswald used to be almost a brother.” + +“Why do not you speak to Lord Brentford;--you who are his favourite?” + +“There are reasons, Mr. Finn. Besides, how can any girl come forward +and say that she knows the disposition of any man? You can live with +Lord Chiltern, and see what he is made of, and know his thoughts, and +learn what is good in him, and also what is bad. After all, how is +any girl really to know anything of a man’s life?” + +“If I can do anything, Miss Effingham, I will,” said Phineas. + +“And then we shall all of us be so grateful to you,” said Violet, +with her sweetest smile. + +Phineas, retreating from this conversation, stood for a while alone, +thinking of it. Had she spoken thus of Lord Chiltern because she did +love him or because she did not? And the sweet commendations which +had fallen from her lips upon him,--him, Phineas Finn,--were they +compatible with anything like a growing partiality for himself, or +were they incompatible with any such feeling? Had he most reason to +be comforted or to be discomfited by what had taken place? It seemed +hardly possible to his imagination that Violet Effingham should +love such a nobody as he. And yet he had had fair evidence that one +standing as high in the world as Violet Effingham would fain have +loved him could she have followed the dictates of her heart. He had +trembled when he had first resolved to declare his passion to Lady +Laura,--fearing that she would scorn him as being presumptuous. But +there had been no cause for such fear as that. He had declared his +love, and she had not thought him to be presumptuous. That now was +ages ago,--eight months since; and Lady Laura had become a married +woman. Since he had become so warmly alive to the charms of Violet +Effingham he had determined, with stern propriety, that a passion for +a married woman was disgraceful. Such love was in itself a sin, even +though it was accompanied by the severest forbearance and the most +rigid propriety of conduct. No;--Lady Laura had done wisely to check +the growing feeling of partiality which she had admitted; and now +that she was married, he would be as wise as she. It was clear to him +that, as regarded his own heart, the way was open to him for a new +enterprise. But what if he were to fail again, and be told by Violet, +when he declared his love, that she had just engaged herself to Lord +Chiltern! + +“What were you and Violet talking about so eagerly?” said Lady Laura +to him, with a smile that, in its approach to laughter, almost +betrayed its mistress. + +“We were talking about your brother.” + +“You are going to him, are you not?” + +“Yes; I leave London on Sunday night;--but only for a day or two.” + +“Has he any chance there, do you think?” + +“What, with Miss Effingham?” + +“Yes;--with Violet. Sometimes I think she loves him.” + +“How can I say? In such a matter you can judge better than I can do. +One woman with reference to another can draw the line between love +and friendship. She certainly likes Chiltern.” + +“Oh, I believe she loves him. I do indeed. But she fears him. She +does not quite understand how much there is of tenderness with that +assumed ferocity. And Oswald is so strange, so unwise, so impolitic, +that though he loves her better than all the world beside, he will +not sacrifice even a turn of a word to win her. When he asks her to +marry him, he almost flies at her throat, as an angry debtor who +applies for instant payment. Tell him, Mr. Finn, never to give it +over;--and teach him that he should be soft with her. Tell him, also, +that in her heart she likes him. One woman, as you say, knows another +woman; and I am certain he would win her if he would only be gentle +with her.” Then, again, before they parted, Lady Laura told him that +this marriage was the dearest wish of her heart, and that there would +be no end to her gratitude if Phineas could do anything to promote +it. All which again made our hero unhappy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Sunday in Grosvenor Place + + +Mr. Kennedy, though he was a most scrupulously attentive member of +Parliament, was a man very punctual to hours and rules in his own +house,--and liked that his wife should be as punctual as himself. +Lady Laura, who in marrying him had firmly resolved that she would do +her duty to him in all ways, even though the ways might sometimes be +painful,--and had been perhaps more punctilious in this respect than +she might have been had she loved him heartily,--was not perhaps +quite so fond of accurate regularity as her husband; and thus, by +this time, certain habits of his had become rather bonds than habits +to her. He always had prayers at nine, and breakfasted at a quarter +past nine, let the hours on the night before have been as late as +they might before the time for rest had come. After breakfast he +would open his letters in his study, but he liked her to be with +him, and desired to discuss with her every application he got from +a constituent. He had his private secretary in a room apart, but he +thought that everything should be filtered to his private secretary +through his wife. He was very anxious that she herself should +superintend the accounts of their own private expenditure, and had +taken some trouble to teach her an excellent mode of book-keeping. +He had recommended to her a certain course of reading,--which was +pleasant enough; ladies like to receive such recommendations; but Mr. +Kennedy, having drawn out the course, seemed to expect that his wife +should read the books he had named, and, worse still, that she should +read them in the time he had allocated for the work. This, I think, +was tyranny. Then the Sundays became very wearisome to Lady Laura. +Going to church twice, she had learnt, would be a part of her duty; +and though in her father’s household attendance at church had never +been very strict, she had made up her mind to this cheerfully. But +Mr. Kennedy expected also that he and she should always dine together +on Sundays, that there should be no guests, and that there should be +no evening company. After all, the demand was not very severe, but +yet she found that it operated injuriously upon her comfort. The +Sundays were very wearisome to her, and made her feel that her lord +and master was--her lord and master. She made an effort or two to +escape, but the efforts were all in vain. He never spoke a cross word +to her. He never gave a stern command. But yet he had his way. “I +won’t say that reading a novel on a Sunday is a sin,” he said; “but +we must at any rate admit that it is a matter on which men disagree, +that many of the best of men are against such occupation on Sunday, +and that to abstain is to be on the safe side.” So the novels were +put away, and Sunday afternoon with the long evening became rather +a stumbling-block to Lady Laura. + +Those two hours, moreover, with her husband in the morning became +very wearisome to her. At first she had declared that it would be her +greatest ambition to help her husband in his work, and she had read +all the letters from the MacNabs and MacFies, asking to be made +gaugers and landing-waiters, with an assumed interest. But the work +palled upon her very quickly. Her quick intellect discovered soon +that there was nothing in it which she really did. It was all form +and verbiage, and pretence at business. Her husband went through it +all with the utmost patience, reading every word, giving orders as +to every detail, and conscientiously doing that which he conceived +he had undertaken to do. But Lady Laura wanted to meddle with high +politics, to discuss reform bills, to assist in putting up Mr. This +and putting down my Lord That. Why should she waste her time in +doing that which the lad in the next room, who was called a private +secretary, could do as well? + +Still she would obey. Let the task be as hard as it might, she would +obey. If he counselled her to do this or that, she would follow his +counsel,--because she owed him so much. If she had accepted the half +of all his wealth without loving him, she owed him the more on that +account. But she knew,--she could not but know,--that her intellect +was brighter than his; and might it not be possible for her to lead +him? Then she made efforts to lead her husband, and found that he was +as stiff-necked as an ox. Mr. Kennedy was not, perhaps, a clever man; +but he was a man who knew his own way, and who intended to keep it. + +“I have got a headache, Robert,” she said to him one Sunday after +luncheon. “I think I will not go to church this afternoon.” + +“It is not serious, I hope.” + +“Oh dear no. Don’t you know how one feels sometimes that one has got +a head? And when that is the case one’s armchair is the best place.” + +“I am not sure of that,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“If I went to church I should not attend,” said Lady Laura. + +“The fresh air would do you more good than anything else, and we +could walk across the park.” + +“Thank you;--I won’t go out again to-day.” This she said with +something almost of crossness in her manner, and Mr. Kennedy went to +the afternoon service by himself. + +Lady Laura when she was left alone began to think of her position. +She was not more than four or five months married, and she was +becoming very tired of her life. Was it not also true that she was +becoming tired of her husband? She had twice told Phineas Finn that +of all men in the world she esteemed Mr. Kennedy the most. She did +not esteem him less now. She knew no point or particle in which +he did not do his duty with accuracy. But no person can live +happily with another,--not even with a brother or a sister or a +friend,--simply upon esteem. All the virtues in the calendar, +though they exist on each side, will not make a man and woman happy +together, unless there be sympathy. Lady Laura was beginning to +find out that there was a lack of sympathy between herself and her +husband. + +She thought of this till she was tired of thinking of it, and then, +wishing to divert her mind, she took up the book that was lying +nearest to her hand. It was a volume of a new novel which she had +been reading on the previous day, and now, without much thought about +it, she went on with her reading. There came to her, no doubt, some +dim, half-formed idea that, as she was freed from going to church by +the plea of a headache, she was also absolved by the same plea from +other Sunday hindrances. A child, when it is ill, has buttered toast +and a picture-book instead of bread-and-milk and lessons. In this +way, Lady Laura conceived herself to be entitled to her novel. + +While she was reading it, there came a knock at the door, and +Barrington Erle was shown upstairs. Mr. Kennedy had given no orders +against Sunday visitors, but had simply said that Sunday visiting was +not to his taste. Barrington, however, was Lady Laura’s cousin, and +people must be very strict if they can’t see their cousins on Sunday. +Lady Laura soon lost her headache altogether in the animation +of discussing the chances of the new Reform Bill with the Prime +Minister’s private secretary; and had left her chair, and was +standing by the table with the novel in her hand, protesting this +and denying that, expressing infinite confidence in Mr. Monk, and +violently denouncing Mr. Turnbull, when her husband returned from +church and came up into the drawing-room. Lady Laura had forgotten +her headache altogether, and had in her composition none of that +thoughtfulness of hypocrisy which would have taught her to moderate +her political feeling at her husband’s return. + +“I do declare,” she said, “that if Mr. Turnbull opposes the +Government measure now, because he can’t have his own way in +everything, I will never again put my trust in any man who calls +himself a popular leader.” + +“You never should,” said Barrington Erle. + +“That’s all very well for you, Barrington, who are an aristocratic +Whig of the old official school, and who call yourself a Liberal +simply because Fox was a Liberal a hundred years ago. My heart’s in +it.” + +“Heart should never have anything to do with politics; should it?” +said Erle, turning round to Mr. Kennedy. + +Mr. Kennedy did not wish to discuss the matter on a Sunday, nor yet +did he wish to say before Barrington Erle that he thought it wrong +to do so. And he was desirous of treating his wife in some way +as though she were an invalid,--that she thereby might be, as it +were, punished; but he did not wish to do this in such a way that +Barrington should be aware of the punishment. + +“Laura had better not disturb herself about it now,” he said. + +“How is a person to help being disturbed?” said Lady Laura, laughing. + +“Well, well; we won’t mind all that now,” said Mr. Kennedy, turning +away. Then he took up the novel which Lady Laura had just laid down +from her hand, and, having looked at it, carried it aside, and placed +it on a book-shelf which was remote from them. Lady Laura watched him +as he did this, and the whole course of her husband’s thoughts on the +subject was open to her at once. She regretted the novel, and she +regretted also the political discussion. Soon afterwards Barrington +Erle went away, and the husband and wife were alone together. + +“I am glad that your head is so much better,” said he. He did not +intend to be severe, but he spoke with a gravity of manner which +almost amounted to severity. + +“Yes; it is,” she said, “Barrington’s coming in cheered me up.” + +“I am sorry that you should have wanted cheering.” + +“Don’t you know what I mean, Robert?” + +“No; I do not think that I do, exactly.” + +“I suppose your head is stronger. You do not get that feeling +of dazed, helpless imbecility of brain, which hardly amounts to +headache, but which yet--is almost as bad.” + +“Imbecility of brain may be worse than headache, but I don’t think it +can produce it.” + +“Well, well;--I don’t know how to explain it.” + +“Headache comes, I think, always from the stomach, even when produced +by nervous affections. But imbecility of the brain--” + +“Oh, Robert, I am so sorry that I used the word.” + +“I see that it did not prevent your reading,” he said, after a pause. + +“Not such reading as that. I was up to nothing better.” + +Then there was another pause. + +“I won’t deny that it may be a prejudice,” he said, “but I confess +that the use of novels in my own house on Sundays is a pain to me. +My mother’s ideas on the subject are very strict, and I cannot think +that it is bad for a son to hang on to the teaching of his mother.” +This he said in the most serious tone which he could command. + +“I don’t know why I took it up,” said Lady Laura. “Simply, I believe, +because it was there. I will avoid doing so for the future.” + +“Do, my dear,” said the husband. “I shall be obliged and grateful if +you will remember what I have said.” Then he left her, and she sat +alone, first in the dusk and then in the dark, for two hours, doing +nothing. Was this to be the life which she had procured for herself +by marrying Mr. Kennedy of Loughlinter? If it was harsh and +unendurable in London, what would it be in the country? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The Willingford Bull + + +Phineas left London by a night mail train on Easter Sunday, and found +himself at the Willingford Bull about half an hour after midnight. +Lord Chiltern was up and waiting for him, and supper was on the +table. The Willingford Bull was an English inn of the old stamp, +which had now, in these latter years of railway travelling, ceased +to have a road business,--for there were no travellers on the road, +and but little posting--but had acquired a new trade as a dépôt for +hunters and hunting men. The landlord let out horses and kept hunting +stables, and the house was generally filled from the beginning of +November till the middle of April. Then it became a desert in the +summer, and no guests were seen there, till the pink coats flocked +down again into the shires. + +“How many days do you mean to give us?” said Lord Chiltern, as he +helped his friend to a devilled leg of turkey. + +“I must go back on Wednesday,” said Phineas. + +“That means Wednesday night. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ve the +Cottesmore to-morrow. We’ll get into Tailby’s country on Tuesday, and +Fitzwilliam will be only twelve miles off on Wednesday. We shall be +rather short of horses.” + +“Pray don’t let me put you out. I can hire something here, I +suppose?” + +“You won’t put me out at all. There’ll be three between us each day, +and we’ll run our luck. The horses have gone on to Empingham for +to-morrow. Tailby is rather a way off,--at Somerby; but we’ll manage +it. If the worst comes to the worst, we can get back to Stamford by +rail. On Wednesday we shall have everything very comfortable. They’re +out beyond Stilton and will draw home our way. I’ve planned it all +out. I’ve a trap with a fast stepper, and if we start to-morrow at +half-past nine, we shall be in plenty of time. You shall ride Meg +Merrilies, and if she don’t carry you, you may shoot her.” + +“Is she one of the pulling ones?” + +“She is heavy in hand if you are heavy at her, but leave her mouth +alone and she’ll go like flowing water. You’d better not ride more +in a crowd than you can help. Now what’ll you drink?” + +They sat up half the night smoking and talking, and Phineas learned +more about Lord Chiltern then than ever he had learned before. There +was brandy and water before them, but neither of them drank. Lord +Chiltern, indeed, had a pint of beer by his side from which he sipped +occasionally. “I’ve taken to beer,” he said, “as being the best drink +going. When a man hunts six days a week he can afford to drink beer. +I’m on an allowance,--three pints a day. That’s not too much.” + +“And you drink nothing else?” + +“Nothing when I’m alone,--except a little cherry-brandy when I’m out. +I never cared for drink;--never in my life. I do like excitement, and +have been less careful than I ought to have been as to what it has +come from. I could give up drink to-morrow, without a struggle,--if +it were worth my while to make up my mind to do it. And it’s the same +with gambling. I never do gamble now, because I’ve got no money; but +I own I like it better than anything in the world. While you are at +it, there is life in it.” + +“You should take to politics, Chiltern.” + +“And I would have done so, but my father would not help me. Never +mind, we will not talk about him. How does Laura get on with her +husband?” + +“Very happily, I should say.” + +“I don’t believe it,” said Lord Chiltern. “Her temper is too much +like mine to allow her to be happy with such a log of wood as Robert +Kennedy. It is such men as he who drive me out of the pale of decent +life. If that is decency, I’d sooner be indecent. You mark my words. +They’ll come to grief. She’ll never be able to stand it.” + +“I should think she had her own way in everything,” said Phineas. + +“No, no. Though he’s a prig, he’s a man; and she will not find it +easy to drive him.” + +“But she may bend him.” + +“Not an inch;--that is if I understand his character. I suppose you +see a good deal of them?” + +“Yes,--pretty well. I’m not there so often as I used to be in the +Square.” + +“You get sick of it, I suppose. I should. Do you see my father +often?” + +“Only occasionally. He is always very civil when I do see him.” + +“He is the very pink of civility when he pleases, but the most unjust +man I ever met.” + +“I should not have thought that.” + +“Yes, he is,” said the Earl’s son, “and all from lack of judgment to +discern the truth. He makes up his mind to a thing on insufficient +proof, and then nothing will turn him. He thinks well of you,--would +probably believe your word on any indifferent subject without thought +of a doubt; but if you were to tell him that I didn’t get drunk every +night of my life and spend most of my time in thrashing policemen, he +would not believe you. He would smile incredulously and make you a +little bow. I can see him do it.” + +“You are too hard on him, Chiltern.” + +“He has been too hard on me, I know. Is Violet Effingham still in +Grosvenor Place?” + +“No; she’s with Lady Baldock.” + +“That old grandmother of evil has come to town,--has she? Poor +Violet! When we were young together we used to have such fun about +that old woman.” + +“The old woman is an ally of mine now,” said Phineas. + +“You make allies everywhere. You know Violet Effingham of course?” + +“Oh yes. I know her.” + +“Don’t you think her very charming?” said Lord Chiltern. + +“Exceedingly charming.” + +“I have asked that girl to marry me three times, and I shall never +ask her again. There is a point beyond which a man shouldn’t go. +There are many reasons why it would be a good marriage. In the first +place, her money would be serviceable. Then it would heal matters in +our family, for my father is as prejudiced in her favour as he is +against me. And I love her dearly. I’ve loved her all my life,--since +I used to buy cakes for her. But I shall never ask her again.” + +“I would if I were you,” said Phineas,--hardly knowing what it might +be best for him to say. + +“No; I never will. But I’ll tell you what. I shall get into some +desperate scrape about her. Of course she’ll marry, and that soon. +Then I shall make a fool of myself. When I hear that she is engaged I +shall go and quarrel with the man, and kick him,--or get kicked. All +the world will turn against me, and I shall be called a wild beast.” + +“A dog in the manger is what you should be called.” + +“Exactly;--but how is a man to help it? If you loved a girl, could +you see another man take her?” Phineas remembered of course that he +had lately come through this ordeal. “It is as though he were to come +and put his hand upon me, and wanted my own heart out of me. Though +I have no property in her at all, no right to her,--though she never +gave me a word of encouragement, it is as though she were the most +private thing in the world to me. I should be half mad, and in my +madness I could not master the idea that I was being robbed. I should +resent it as a personal interference.” + +“I suppose it will come to that if you give her up yourself,” said +Phineas. + +“It is no question of giving up. Of course I cannot make her marry +me. Light another cigar, old fellow.” + +Phineas, as he lit the other cigar, remembered that he owed a certain +duty in this matter to Lady Laura. She had commissioned him to +persuade her brother that his suit with Violet Effingham would not be +hopeless, if he could only restrain himself in his mode of conducting +it. Phineas was disposed to do his duty, although he felt it to be +very hard that he should be called upon to be eloquent against his +own interest. He had been thinking for the last quarter of an hour +how he must bear himself if it might turn out that he should be the +man whom Lord Chiltern was resolved to kick. He looked at his friend +and host, and became aware that a kicking-match with such a one would +not be pleasant pastime. Nevertheless, he would be happy enough to be +subject to Lord Chiltern’s wrath for such a reason. He would do his +duty by Lord Chiltern; and then, when that had been adequately done, +he would, if occasion served, fight a battle for himself. + +“You are too sudden with her, Chiltern,” he said, after a pause. + +“What do you mean by too sudden?” said Lord Chiltern, almost angrily. + +“You frighten her by being so impetuous. You rush at her as though +you wanted to conquer her by a single blow.” + +“So I do.” + +“You should be more gentle with her. You should give her time to find +out whether she likes you or not.” + +“She has known me all her life, and has found that out long ago. Not +but what you are right. I know you are right. If I were you, and had +your skill in pleasing, I should drop soft words into her ear till I +had caught her. But I have no gifts in that way. I am as awkward as +a pig at what is called flirting. And I have an accursed pride which +stands in my own light. If she were in this house this moment, and +if I knew she were to be had for asking, I don’t think I could bring +myself to ask again. But we’ll go to bed. It’s half-past two, and we +must be off at half-past nine, if we’re to be at Exton Park gates at +eleven.” + +Phineas, as he went up-stairs, assured himself that he had done his +duty. If there ever should come to be anything between him and Violet +Effingham, Lord Chiltern might quarrel with him,--might probably +attempt that kicking encounter to which allusion had been made,--but +nobody could justly say that he had not behaved honourably to his +friend. + +On the next morning there was a bustle and a scurry, as there always +is on such occasions, and the two men got off about ten minutes after +time. But Lord Chiltern drove hard, and they reached the meet before +the master had moved off. They had a fair day’s sport with the +Cottesmore; and Phineas, though he found that Meg Merrilies did +require a good deal of riding, went through his day’s work with +credit. He had been riding since he was a child, as is the custom +with all boys in Munster, and had an Irishman’s natural aptitude for +jumping. When they got back to the Willingford Bull he felt pleased +with the day and rather proud of himself. “It wasn’t fast, you know,” +said Chiltern, “and I don’t call that a stiff country. Besides, Meg +is very handy when you’ve got her out of the crowd. You shall ride +Bonebreaker to-morrow at Somerby, and you’ll find that better fun.” + +“Bonebreaker? Haven’t I heard you say he rushes like mischief?” + +“Well, he does rush. But, by George! you want a horse to rush in that +country. When you have to go right through four or five feet of stiff +green wood, like a bullet through a target, you want a little force, +or you’re apt to be left up a tree.” + +“And what do you ride?” + +“A brute I never put my leg on yet. He was sent down to Wilcox here, +out of Lincolnshire, because they couldn’t get anybody to ride him +there. They say he goes with his head up in the air, and won’t look +at a fence that isn’t as high as his breast. But I think he’ll do +here. I never saw a better made beast, or one with more power. Do you +look at his shoulders. He’s to be had for seventy pounds, and these +are the sort of horses I like to buy.” + +Again they dined alone, and Lord Chiltern explained to Phineas that +he rarely associated with the men of either of the hunts in which +he rode. “There is a set of fellows down here who are poison to me, +and there is another set, and I am poison to them. Everybody is +very civil, as you see, but I have no associates. And gradually I am +getting to have a reputation as though I were the devil himself. I +think I shall come out next year dressed entirely in black.” + +“Are you not wrong to give way to that kind of thing?” + +“What the deuce am I to do? I can’t make civil little speeches. When +once a man gets a reputation as an ogre, it is the most difficult +thing in the world to drop it. I could have a score of men here every +day if I liked it,--my title would do that for me;--but they would +be men I should loathe, and I should be sure to tell them so, +even though I did not mean it. Bonebreaker, and the new horse, +and another, went on at twelve to-day. You must expect hard work +to-morrow, as I daresay we shan’t be home before eight.” + +The next day’s meet was in Leicestershire, not far from Melton, and +they started early. Phineas, to tell the truth of him, was rather +afraid of Bonebreaker, and looked forward to the probability of an +accident. He had neither wife nor child, and nobody had a better +right to risk his neck. “We’ll put a gag on ’im,” said the groom, +“and you’ll ride ’im in a ring,--so that you may well-nigh break +his jaw; but he is a rum un, sir.” “I’ll do my best,” said Phineas. +“He’ll take all that,” said the groom. “Just let him have his own way +at everything,” said Lord Chiltern, as they moved away from the meet +to Pickwell Gorse; “and if you’ll only sit on his back, he’ll carry +you through as safe as a church.” Phineas could not help thinking +that the counsels of the master and of the groom were very different. +“My idea is,” continued Lord Chiltern, “that in hunting you should +always avoid a crowd. I don’t think a horse is worth riding that +will go in a crowd. It’s just like yachting,--you should have plenty +of sea-room. If you’re to pull your horse up at every fence till +somebody else is over, I think you’d better come out on a donkey.” +And so they went away to Pickwell Gorse. + +There were over two hundred men out, and Phineas began to think that +it might not be so easy to get out of the crowd. A crowd in a fast +run no doubt quickly becomes small by degrees and beautifully less; +but it is very difficult, especially for a stranger, to free himself +from the rush at the first start. Lord Chiltern’s horse plunged about +so violently, as they stood on a little hill-side looking down upon +the cover, that he was obliged to take him to a distance, and Phineas +followed him. “If he breaks down wind,” said Lord Chiltern, “we can’t +be better than we are here. If he goes up wind, he must turn before +long, and we shall be all right.” As he spoke an old hound opened +true and sharp,--an old hound whom all the pack believed,--and in a +moment there was no doubt that the fox had been found. “There are not +above eight or nine acres in it,” said Lord Chiltern, “and he can’t +hang long. Did you ever see such an uneasy brute as this in your +life? But I feel certain he’ll go well when he gets away.” + +Phineas was too much occupied with his own horse to think much of +that on which Lord Chiltern was mounted. Bonebreaker, the very moment +that he heard the old hound’s note, stretched out his head, and put +his mouth upon the bit, and began to tremble in every muscle. “He’s +a great deal more anxious for it than you and I are,” said Lord +Chiltern. “I see they’ve given you that gag. But don’t you ride him +on it till he wants it. Give him lots of room, and he’ll go in the +snaffle.” All which caution made Phineas think that any insurance +office would charge very dear on his life at the present moment. + +The fox took two rings of the gorse, and then he went,--up wind. +“It’s not a vixen, I’ll swear,” said Lord Chiltern. “A vixen in cub +never went away like that yet. Now then, Finn, my boy, keep to the +right.” And Lord Chiltern, with the horse out of Lincolnshire, went +away across the brow of the hill, leaving the hounds to the left, and +selected, as his point of exit into the next field, a stiff rail, +which, had there been an accident, must have put a very wide margin +of ground between the rider and his horse. “Go hard at your fences, +and then you’ll fall clear,” he had said to Phineas. I don’t think, +however, that he would have ridden at the rail as he did, but +that there was no help for him. “The brute began in his own way, +and carried on after in the same fashion all through,” he said +afterwards. Phineas took the fence a little lower down, and what +it was at which he rode he never knew. Bonebreaker sailed over it, +whatever it was, and he soon found himself by his friend’s side. + +The ruck of the men were lower down than our two heroes, and there +were others far away to the left, and others, again, who had been at +the end of the gorse, and were now behind. Our friends were not near +the hounds, not within two fields of them, but the hounds were below +them, and therefore could be seen. “Don’t be in a hurry, and they’ll +be round upon us,” Lord Chiltern said. “How the deuce is one to help +being in a hurry?” said Phineas, who was doing his very best to ride +Bonebreaker with the snaffle, but had already began to feel that +Bonebreaker cared nothing for that weak instrument. “By George, I +should like to change with you,” said Lord Chiltern. The Lincolnshire +horse was going along with his head very low, boring as he galloped, +but throwing his neck up at his fences, just when he ought to have +kept himself steady. After this, though Phineas kept near Lord +Chiltern throughout the run, they were not again near enough to +exchange words; and, indeed, they had but little breath for such +purpose. + +Lord Chiltern rode still a little in advance, and Phineas, knowing +his friend’s partiality for solitude when taking his fences, kept a +little to his left. He began to find that Bonebreaker knew pretty +well what he was about. As for not using the gag rein, that was +impossible. When a horse puts out what strength he has against a +man’s arm, a man must put out what strength he has against the +horse’s mouth. But Bonebreaker was cunning, and had had a gag rein +on before. He contracted his lip here, and bent out his jaw there, +till he had settled it to his mind, and then went away after his +own fashion. He seemed to have a passion for smashing through big, +high-grown ox-fences, and by degrees his rider came to feel that if +there was nothing worse coming, the fun was not bad. + +The fox ran up wind for a couple of miles or so, as Lord Chiltern had +prophesied, and then turned,--not to the right, as would best have +served him and Phineas, but to the left,--so that they were forced +to make their way through the ruck of horses before they could place +themselves again. Phineas found himself crossing a road, in and out +of it, before he knew where he was, and for a while he lost sight of +Lord Chiltern. But in truth he was leading now, whereas Lord Chiltern +had led before. The two horses having been together all the morning, +and on the previous day, were willing enough to remain in company, +if they were allowed to do so. They both crossed the road, not very +far from each other, going in and out amidst a crowd of horses, and +before long were again placed well, now having the hunt on their +right, whereas hitherto it had been on their left. They went over +large pasture fields, and Phineas began to think that as long as +Bonebreaker would be able to go through the thick grown-up hedges, +all would be right. Now and again he came to a cut fence, a fence +that had been cut and laid, and these were not so pleasant. Force +was not sufficient for them, and they admitted of a mistake. But the +horse, though he would rush at them unpleasantly, took them when they +came without touching them. It might be all right yet,--unless the +beast should tire with him; and then, Phineas thought, a misfortune +might probably occur. He remembered, as he flew over one such +impediment, that he rode a stone heavier than his friend. At the end +of forty-five minutes Bonebreaker also might become aware of the +fact. + +The hounds were running well in sight to their right, and Phineas +began to feel some of that pride which a man indulges when he becomes +aware that he has taken his place comfortably, has left the squad +behind, and is going well. There were men nearer the hounds than he +was, but he was near enough even for ambition. There had already been +enough of the run to make him sure that it would be a “good thing”, +and enough to make him aware also that probably it might be too good. +When a run is over, men are very apt to regret the termination, who +a minute or two before were anxiously longing that the hounds might +pull down their game. To finish well is everything in hunting. To +have led for over an hour is nothing, let the pace and country have +been what they might, if you fall away during the last half mile. +Therefore it is that those behind hope that the fox may make this +or that cover, while the forward men long to see him turned over in +every field. To ride to hounds is very glorious; but to have ridden +to hounds is more glorious still. They had now crossed another road, +and a larger one, and had got into a somewhat closer country. The +fields were not so big, and the fences were not so high. Phineas got +a moment to look about him, and saw Lord Chiltern riding without his +cap. He was very red in the face, and his eyes seemed to glare, and +he was tugging at his horse with all his might. But the animal seemed +still to go with perfect command of strength, and Phineas had too +much work on his own hands to think of offering Quixotic assistance +to any one else. He saw some one, a farmer, as he thought, speak to +Lord Chiltern as they rode close together; but Chiltern only shook +his head and pulled at his horse. + +There were brooks in those parts. The river Eye forms itself +thereabouts, or some of its tributaries do so; and these tributaries, +though small as rivers, are considerable to men on one side who are +called by the exigencies of the occasion to place themselves quickly +on the other. Phineas knew nothing of these brooks; but Bonebreaker +had gone gallantly over two, and now that there came a third in the +way, it was to be hoped that he might go gallantly over that also. +Phineas, at any rate, had no power to decide otherwise. As long as +the brute would go straight with him he could sit him; but he had +long given up the idea of having a will of his own. Indeed, till he +was within twenty yards of the brook, he did not see that it was +larger than the others. He looked around, and there was Chiltern +close to him, still fighting with his horse;--but the farmer had +turned away. He thought that Chiltern nodded to him, as much as to +tell him to go on. On he went at any rate. The brook, when he came to +it, seemed to be a huge black hole, yawning beneath him. The banks +were quite steep, and just where he was to take off there was an +ugly stump. It was too late to think of anything. He stuck his knees +against his saddle,--and in a moment was on the other side. The +brute, who had taken off a yard before the stump, knowing well the +danger of striking it with his foot, came down with a grunt, and did, +I think, begin to feel the weight of that extra stone. Phineas, as +soon as he was safe, looked back, and there was Lord Chiltern’s horse +in the very act of his spring,--higher up the rivulet, where it was +even broader. At that distance Phineas could see that Lord Chiltern +was wild with rage against the beast. But whether he wished to take +the leap or wished to avoid it, there was no choice left to him. The +animal rushed at the brook, and in a moment the horse and horseman +were lost to sight. It was well then that that extra stone should +tell, as it enabled Phineas to arrest his horse and to come back to +his friend. + +The Lincolnshire horse had chested the further bank, and of course +had fallen back into the stream. When Phineas got down he found that +Lord Chiltern was wedged in between the horse and the bank, which was +better, at any rate, than being under the horse in the water. “All +right, old fellow,” he said, with a smile, when he saw Phineas. “You +go on; it’s too good to lose.” But he was very pale, and seemed to be +quite helpless where he lay. The horse did not move,--and never did +move again. He had smashed his shoulder to pieces against a stump on +the bank, and was afterwards shot on that very spot. + +When Phineas got down he found that there was but little water where +the horse lay. The depth of the stream had been on the side from +which they had taken off, and the thick black mud lay within a foot +of the surface, close to the bank against which Lord Chiltern was +propped. “That’s the worst one I ever was on,” said Lord Chiltern; +“but I think he’s gruelled now.” + +“Are you hurt?” + +“Well;--I fancy there is something amiss. I can’t move my arms; and I +catch my breath. My legs are all right if I could get away from this +accursed brute.” + +“I told you so,” said the farmer, coming and looking down upon them +from the bank. “I told you so, but you wouldn’t be said.” Then he too +got down, and between them both they extricated Lord Chiltern from +his position, and got him on to the bank. + +“That un’s a dead un,” said the farmer, pointing to the horse. + +“So much the better,” said his lordship. “Give us a drop of sherry, +Finn.” + +He had broken his collar-bone and three of his ribs. They got a +farmer’s trap from Wissindine and took him into Oakham. When there, +he insisted on being taken on through Stamford to the Willingford +Bull before he would have his bones set,--picking up, however, a +surgeon at Stamford. Phineas remained with him for a couple of days, +losing his run with the Fitzwilliams and a day at the potted peas, +and became very fond of his patient as he sat by his bedside. + +“That was a good run, though, wasn’t it?” said Lord Chiltern +as Phineas took his leave. “And, by George, Phineas, you rode +Bonebreaker so well, that you shall have him as often as you’ll come +down. I don’t know how it is, but you Irish fellows always ride.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Mr. Turnbull’s Carriage Stops the Way + + +When Phineas got back to London, a day after his time, he found that +there was already a great political commotion in the metropolis. +He had known that on Easter Monday and Tuesday there was to be +a gathering of the people in favour of the ballot, and that on +Wednesday there was to be a procession with a petition which Mr. +Turnbull was to receive from the hands of the people on Primrose +Hill. It had been at first intended that Mr. Turnbull should receive +the petition at the door of Westminster Hall on the Thursday; but he +had been requested by the Home Secretary to put aside this intention, +and he had complied with the request made to him. Mr. Mildmay was +to move the second reading of his Reform Bill on that day, the +preliminary steps having been taken without any special notice; but +the bill of course included no clause in favour of the ballot; and +this petition was the consequence of that omission. Mr. Turnbull had +predicted evil consequences, both in the House and out of it, and +was now doing the best in his power to bring about the verification +of his own prophecies. Phineas, who reached his lodgings late on the +Thursday, found that the town had been in a state of ferment for +three days, that on the Wednesday forty or fifty thousand persons had +been collected at Primrose Hill, and that the police had been forced +to interfere,--and that worse was expected on the Friday. Though Mr. +Turnbull had yielded to the Government as to receiving the petition, +the crowd was resolved that they would see the petition carried into +the House. It was argued that the Government would have done better +to have refrained from interfering as to the previously intended +arrangement. It would have been easier to deal with a procession than +with a mob of men gathered together without any semblance of form. +Mr. Mildmay had been asked to postpone the second reading of his +bill; but the request had come from his opponents, and he would +not yield to it. He said that it would be a bad expedient to close +Parliament from fear of the people. Phineas found at the Reform Club +on the Thursday evening that members of the House of Commons were +requested to enter on the Friday by the door usually used by the +peers, and to make their way thence to their own House. He found that +his landlord, Mr. Bunce, had been out with the people during the +entire three days;--and Mrs. Bunce, with a flood of tears, begged +Phineas to interfere as to the Friday. “He’s that headstrong that +he’ll be took if anybody’s took; and they say that all Westminster is +to be lined with soldiers.” Phineas on the Friday morning did have +some conversation with his landlord; but his first work on reaching +London was to see Lord Chiltern’s friends, and tell them of the +accident. + +The potted peas Committee sat on the Thursday, and he ought to have +been there. His absence, however, was unavoidable, as he could not +have left his friend’s bed-side so soon after the accident. On the +Wednesday he had written to Lady Laura, and on the Thursday evening +he went first to Portman Square and then to Grosvenor Place. + +“Of course he will kill himself some day,” said the Earl,--with a +tear, however, in each eye. + +“I hope not, my lord. He is a magnificent horseman; but accidents of +course will happen.” + +“How many of his bones are there not broken, I wonder?” said the +father. “It is useless to talk, of course. You think he is not in +danger?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“I should fear that he would be so liable to inflammation.” + +“The doctor says that there is none. He has been taking an enormous +deal of exercise,” said Phineas, “and drinking no wine. All that is +in his favour.” + +“What does he drink, then?” asked the Earl. + +“Nothing. I rather think, my lord, you are mistaken a little about +his habits. I don’t fancy he ever drinks unless he is provoked to do +it.” + +“Provoked! Could anything provoke you to make a brute of yourself? +But I am glad that he is in no danger. If you hear of him, let me +know how he goes on.” + +Lady Laura was of course full of concern. “I wanted to go down to +him,” she said, “but Mr. Kennedy thought that there was no occasion.” + +“Nor is there any;--I mean in regard to danger. He is very solitary +there.” + +“You must go to him again. Mr. Kennedy will not let me go unless I +can say that there is danger. He seems to think that because Oswald +has had accidents before, it is nothing. Of course I cannot leave +London without his leave.” + +“Your brother makes very little of it, you know.” + +“Ah;--he would make little of anything. But if I were ill he would be +in London by the first train.” + +“Kennedy would let you go if you asked him.” + +“But he advises me not to go. He says my duty does not require it, +unless Oswald be in danger. Don’t you know, Mr. Finn, how hard it is +for a wife not to take advice when it is so given?” This she said, +within six months of her marriage, to the man who had been her +husband’s rival! + +Phineas asked her whether Violet had heard the news, and learned that +she was still ignorant of it. “I got your letter only this morning, +and I have not seen her,” said Lady Laura. “Indeed, I am so angry +with her that I hardly wish to see her.” Thursday was Lady Baldock’s +night, and Phineas went from Grosvenor Place to Berkeley Square. +There he saw Violet, and found that she had heard of the accident. + +“I am so glad to see you, Mr. Finn,” she said. “Do tell me;--is it +much?” + +“Much in inconvenience, certainly; but not much in danger.” + +“I think Laura was so unkind not to send me word! I only heard it +just now. Did you see it?” + +“I was close to him, and helped him up. The horse jumped into a river +with him, and crushed him up against the bank.” + +“How lucky that you should be there! Had you jumped the river?” + +“Yes;--almost unintentionally, for my horse was rushing so that I +could not hold him. Chiltern was riding a brute that no one should +have ridden. No one will again.” + +“Did he destroy himself?” + +“He had to be killed afterwards. He broke his shoulder.” + +“How very lucky that you should have been near him,--and, again, how +lucky that you should not have been hurt yourself!” + +“It was not likely that we should both come to grief at the same +fence.” + +“But it might have been you. And you think there is no danger?” + +“None whatever,--if I may believe the doctor. His hunting is done for +this year, and he will be very desolate. I shall go down again to him +in a few days, and try to bring him up to town.” + +“Do;--do. If he is laid up in his father’s house, his father must +see him.” Phineas had not looked at the matter in that light; but he +thought that Miss Effingham might probably be right. + +Early on the next morning he saw Mr. Bunce, and used all his +eloquence to keep that respectable member of society at home;--but +in vain. “What good do you expect to do, Mr. Bunce?” he said, with +perhaps some little tone of authority in his voice. + +“To carry my point,” said Bunce. + +“And what is your point?” + +“My present point is the ballot, as a part of the Government +measure.” + +“And you expect to carry that by going out into the streets with all +the roughs of London, and putting yourself in direct opposition to +the authority of the magistrates? Do you really believe that the +ballot will become the law of the land any sooner because you incur +this danger and inconvenience?” + +“Look here, Mr. Finn; I don’t believe the sea will become any fuller +because the Piddle runs into it out of the Dorsetshire fields; but I +do believe that the waters from all the countries is what makes the +ocean. I shall help; and it’s my duty to help.” + +“It’s your duty as a respectable citizen, with a wife and family, to +stay at home.” + +“If everybody with a wife and family was to say so, there’d be +none there but roughs, and then where should we be? What would the +Government people say to us then? If every man with a wife and family +was to show hisself in the streets to-night, we should have the +ballot before Parliament breaks up, and if none of ’em don’t do it, +we shall never have the ballot. Ain’t that so?” Phineas, who intended +to be honest, was not prepared to dispute the assertion on the spur +of the moment. “If that’s so,” said Bunce, triumphantly, “a man’s +duty’s clear enough. He ought to go, though he’d two wives and +families.” And he went. + +The petition was to be presented at six o’clock, but the crowd, who +collected to see it carried into Westminster Hall, began to form +itself by noon. It was said afterwards that many of the houses in +the neighbourhood of Palace Yard and the Bridge were filled with +soldiers; but if so, the men did not show themselves. In the course +of the evening three or four companies of the Guards in St. James’s +Park did show themselves, and had some rough work to do, for many of +the people took themselves away from Westminster by that route. The +police, who were very numerous in Palace Yard, had a hard time of it +all the afternoon, and it was said afterwards that it would have been +much better to have allowed the petition to have been brought up by +the procession on Wednesday. A procession, let it be who it will that +proceeds, has in it, of its own nature something of order. But now +there was no order. The petition, which was said to fill fifteen +cabs,--though the absolute sheets of signatures were carried into +the House by four men,--was being dragged about half the day and it +certainly would have been impossible for a member to have made his +way into the House through Westminster Hall between the hours of four +and six. To effect an entrance at all they were obliged to go round +at the back of the Abbey, as all the spaces round St. Margaret’s +Church and Canning’s monument were filled with the crowd. Parliament +Street was quite impassable at five o’clock, and there was no traffic +across the bridge from that hour till after eight. As the evening +went on, the mob extended itself to Downing Street and the front +of the Treasury Chambers, and before the night was over all the +hoardings round the new Government offices had been pulled down. The +windows also of certain obnoxious members of Parliament were broken, +when those obnoxious members lived within reach. One gentleman who +unfortunately held a house in Richmond Terrace, and who was said +to have said that the ballot was the resort of cowards, fared very +badly;--for his windows were not only broken, but his furniture and +mirrors were destroyed by the stones that were thrown. Mr. Mildmay, +I say, was much blamed. But after all, it may be a doubt whether the +procession on Wednesday might not have ended worse. Mr. Turnbull was +heard to say afterwards that the number of people collected would +have been much greater. + +Mr. Mildmay moved the second reading of his bill, and made his +speech. He made his speech with the knowledge that the Houses of +Parliament were surrounded by a mob, and I think that the fact added +to its efficacy. It certainly gave him an appropriate opportunity +for a display which was not difficult. His voice faltered on two or +three occasions, and faltered through real feeling; but this sort of +feeling, though it be real, is at the command of orators on certain +occasions, and does them yeoman’s service. Mr. Mildmay was an +old man, nearly worn out in the service of his country, who was +known to have been true and honest, and to have loved his country +well,--though there were of course they who declared that his +hand had been too weak for power, and that his services had been +naught;--and on this evening his virtues were remembered. Once when +his voice failed him the whole House got up and cheered. The nature +of a Whig Prime Minister’s speech on such an occasion will be +understood by most of my readers without further indication. The bill +itself had been read before, and it was understood that no objection +would be made to the extent of the changes provided in it by the +liberal side of the House. The opposition coming from liberal members +was to be confined to the subject of the ballot. And even as yet +it was not known whether Mr. Turnbull and his followers would vote +against the second reading, or whether they would take what was +given, and declare their intention of obtaining the remainder on a +separate motion. The opposition of a large party of Conservatives was +a matter of certainty; but to this party Mr. Mildmay did not conceive +himself bound to offer so large an amount of argument as he would +have given had there been at the moment no crowd in Palace Yard. And +he probably felt that that crowd would assist him with his old Tory +enemies. When, in the last words of his speech, he declared that +under no circumstances would he disfigure the close of his political +career by voting for the ballot,--not though the people, on whose +behalf he had been fighting battles all his life, should be there in +any number to coerce him,--there came another round of applause from +the opposition benches, and Mr. Daubeny began to fear that some young +horses in his team might get loose from their traces. With great +dignity Mr. Daubeny had kept aloof from Mr. Turnbull and from Mr. +Turnbull’s tactics; but he was not the less alive to the fact +that Mr. Turnbull, with his mob and his big petition, might be of +considerable assistance to him in this present duel between himself +and Mr. Mildmay. I think Mr. Daubeny was in the habit of looking at +these contests as duels between himself and the leader on the other +side of the House,--in which assistance from any quarter might be +accepted if offered. + +Mr. Mildmay’s speech did not occupy much over an hour, and at +half-past seven Mr. Turnbull got up to reply. It was presumed that he +would do so, and not a member left his place, though that time of the +day is an interesting time, and though Mr. Turnbull was accustomed to +be long. There soon came to be but little ground for doubting what +would be the nature of Mr. Turnbull’s vote on the second reading. +“How may I dare,” said he, “to accept so small a measure of reform as +this with such a message from the country as is now conveyed to me +through the presence of fifty thousand of my countrymen, who are at +this moment demanding their measure of reform just beyond the frail +walls of this chamber? The right honourable gentleman has told us +that he will never be intimidated by a concourse of people. I do not +know that there was any need that he should speak of intimidation. +No one has accused the right honourable gentleman of political +cowardice. But, as he has so said, I will follow in his footsteps. +Neither will I be intimidated by the large majority which this House +presented the other night against the wishes of the people. I will +support no great measure of reform which does not include the ballot +among its clauses.” And so Mr. Turnbull threw down the gauntlet. + +Mr. Turnbull spoke for two hours, and then the debate was adjourned +till the Monday. The adjournment was moved by an independent member, +who, as was known, would support the Government, and at once received +Mr. Turnbull’s assent. There was no great hurry with the bill, and +it was felt that it would be well to let the ferment subside. Enough +had been done for glory when Mr. Mildmay moved the second reading, +and quite enough in the way of debate,--with such an audience almost +within hearing,--when Mr. Turnbull’s speech had been made. Then the +House emptied itself at once. The elderly, cautious members made +their exit through the peers’ door. The younger men got out into +the crowd through Westminster Hall, and were pushed about among the +roughs for an hour or so. Phineas, who made his way through the hall +with Laurence Fitzgibbon, found Mr. Turnbull’s carriage waiting at +the entrance with a dozen policemen round it. + +“I hope he won’t get home to dinner before midnight,” said Phineas. + +“He understands all about it,” said Laurence. “He had a good meal at +three, before he left home, and you’d find sandwiches and sherry in +plenty if you were to search his carriage. He knows how to remedy the +costs of mob popularity.” + +At that time poor Bunce was being hustled about in the crowd in the +vicinity of Mr. Turnbull’s carriage. Phineas and Fitzgibbon made +their way out, and by degrees worked a passage for themselves into +Parliament Street. Mr. Turnbull had been somewhat behind them in +coming down the hall, and had not been without a sense of enjoyment +in the ovation which was being given to him. There can be no doubt +that he was wrong in what he was doing. That affair of the carriage +was altogether wrong, and did Mr. Turnbull much harm for many a day +afterwards. When he got outside the door, where were the twelve +policemen guarding his carriage, a great number of his admirers +endeavoured to shake hands with him. Among them was the devoted +Bunce. But the policemen seemed to think that Mr. Turnbull was to be +guarded, even from the affection of his friends, and were as careful +that he should be ushered into his carriage untouched, as though he +had been the favourite object of political aversion for the moment. +Mr. Turnbull himself, when he began to perceive that men were +crowding close upon the gates, and to hear the noise, and to feel, as +it were, the breath of the mob, stepped on quickly into his carriage. +He said a word or two in a loud voice. “Thank you, my friends. I +trust you may obtain all your just demands.” But he did not pause +to speak. Indeed, he could hardly have done so, as the policemen +were manifestly in a hurry. The carriage was got away at a snail’s +pace;--but there remained in the spot where the carriage had stood +the makings of a very pretty street row. + +Bunce had striven hard to shake hands with his hero,--Bunce and some +other reformers as ardent and as decent as himself. The police were +very determinate that there should be no such interruption to their +programme for getting Mr. Turnbull off the scene. Mr. Bunce, who had +his own ideas as to his right to shake hands with any gentleman at +Westminster Hall who might choose to shake hands with him, became +uneasy under the impediments that were placed in his way, and +expressed himself warmly as to his civil rights. Now a London +policeman in a political row is, I believe, the most forbearing +of men. So long as he meets with no special political opposition, +ordinary ill-usage does not even put him out of temper. He is paid +for rough work among roughs, and takes his rubs gallantly. But he +feels himself to be an instrument for the moment of despotic power +as opposed to civil rights, and he won’t stand what he calls “jaw.” +Trip up a policeman in such a scramble, and he will take it in good +spirit; but mention the words “Habeas Corpus,” and he’ll lock you up +if he can. As a rule, his instincts are right; for the man who talks +about “Habeas Corpus” in a political crowd will generally do more +harm than can be effected by the tripping up of any constable. But +these instincts may be the means of individual injustice. I think +they were so when Mr. Bunce was arrested and kept a fast prisoner. +His wife had shown her knowledge of his character when she declared +that he’d be “took” if any one was “took.” + +Bunce was taken into custody with some three or four others like +himself,--decent men, who meant no harm, but who thought that as men +they were bound to show their political opinions, perhaps at the +expense of a little martyrdom,--and was carried into a temporary +stronghold, which had been provided for the necessities of the +police, under the clock-tower. + +“Keep me, at your peril!” said Bunce, indignantly. + +“We means it,” said the sergeant who had him in custody. + +“I’ve done no ha’porth to break the law,” said Bunce. + +“You was breaking the law when you was upsetting my men, as I saw +you,” said the sergeant. + +“I’ve upset nobody,” said Bunce. + +“Very well,” rejoined the sergeant; “you can say it all before the +magistrate, to-morrow.” + +“And am I to be locked up all night?” said Bunce. + +“I’m afraid you will,” replied the sergeant. + +Bunce, who was not by nature a very talkative man, said no more; but +he swore in his heart that there should be vengeance. Between eleven +and twelve he was taken to the regular police-station, and from +thence he was enabled to send word to his wife. + +“Bunce has been taken,” said she, with something of the tragic queen, +and something also of the injured wife in the tone of her voice, as +soon as Phineas let himself in with the latchkey between twelve and +one. And then, mingled with, and at last dominant over, those severer +tones, came the voice of the loving woman whose beloved one was in +trouble. “I knew how it’d be, Mr. Finn. Didn’t I? And what must we +do? I don’t suppose he’d had a bit to eat from the moment he went +out;--and as for a drop of beer, he never thinks of it, except what +I puts down for him at his meals. Them nasty police always take the +best. That’s why I was so afeard.” + +Phineas said all that he could to comfort her, and promised to go +to the police-office early in the morning and look after Bunce. No +serious evil would, he thought, probably come of it; but still Bunce +had been wrong to go. + +“But you might have been took yourself,” argued Mrs. Bunce, “just as +well as he.” Then Phineas explained that he had gone forth in the +execution of a public duty. “You might have been took, all the same,” +said Mrs. Bunce, “for I’m sure Bunce didn’t do nothing amiss.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +“The First Speech” + + +On the following morning, which was Saturday, Phineas was early at +the police-office at Westminster looking after the interests of his +landlord; but there had been a considerable number of men taken up +during the row, and our friend could hardly procure that attention +for Mr. Bunce’s case to which he thought the decency of his client +and his own position as a member of Parliament were entitled. The men +who had been taken up were taken in batches before the magistrates; +but as the soldiers in the park had been maltreated, and a +considerable injury had been done in the neighbourhood of Downing +Street, there was a good deal of strong feeling against the mob, and +the magistrates were disposed to be severe. If decent men chose to go +out among such companions, and thereby get into trouble, decent men +must take the consequences. During the Saturday and Sunday a very +strong feeling grew up against Mr. Turnbull. The story of the +carriage was told, and he was declared to be a turbulent demagogue, +only desirous of getting popularity. And together with this feeling +there arose a general verdict of “Serve them right” against all who +had come into contact with the police in the great Turnbull row; and +thus it came to pass that Mr. Bunce had not been liberated up to +the Monday morning. On the Sunday Mrs. Bunce was in hysterics, and +declared her conviction that Mr. Bunce would be imprisoned for life. +Poor Phineas had an unquiet time with her on the morning of that day. +In every ecstasy of her grief she threw herself into his arms, either +metaphorically or materially, according to the excess of her agony at +the moment, and expressed repeatedly an assured conviction that all +her children would die of starvation, and that she herself would be +picked up under the arches of one of the bridges. Phineas, who was +soft-hearted, did what he could to comfort her, and allowed himself +to be worked up to strong parliamentary anger against the magistrates +and police. “When they think that they have public opinion on their +side, there is nothing in the way or arbitrary excess which is too +great for them.” This he said to Barrington Erle, who angered him and +increased the warmth of his feeling by declaring that a little close +confinement would be good for the Bunces of the day. “If we don’t +keep the mob down, the mob will keep us down,” said the Whig private +secretary. Phineas had no opportunity of answering this, but declared +to himself that Barrington Erle was no more a Liberal at heart than +was Mr. Daubeny. “He was born on that side of the question, and has +been receiving Whig wages all his life. That is the history of his +politics!” + +On the Sunday afternoon Phineas went to Lord Brentford’s in Portman +Square, intending to say a word or two about Lord Chiltern, and +meaning also to induce, if possible, the Cabinet Minister to take +part with him against the magistrates,--having a hope also, in which +he was not disappointed, that he might find Lady Laura Kennedy with +her father. He had come to understand that Lady Laura was not to be +visited at her own house on Sundays. So much indeed she had told +him in so many words. But he had come to understand also, without +any plain telling, that she rebelled in heart against this Sabbath +tyranny,--and that she would escape from it when escape was possible. +She had now come to talk to her father about her brother, and had +brought Violet Effingham with her. They had walked together across +the park after church, and intended to walk back again. Mr. Kennedy +did not like to have any carriage out on a Sunday, and to this +arrangement his wife made no objection. + +Phineas had received a letter from the Stamford surgeon, and was able +to report favourably of Lord Chiltern. “The man says that he had +better not be moved for a month,” said Phineas. “But that means +nothing. They always say that.” + +“Will it not be best for him to remain where he is?” said the Earl. + +“He has not a soul to speak to,” said Phineas. + +“I wish I were with him,” said his sister. + +“That is, of course, out of the question,” said the Earl. “They know +him at that inn, and it really seems to me best that he should stay +there. I do not think he would be so much at his ease here.” + +“It must be dreadful for a man to be confined to his room without +a creature near him, except the servants,” said Violet. The Earl +frowned, but said nothing further. They all perceived that as soon as +he had learned that there was no real danger as to his son’s life, he +was determined that this accident should not work him up to any show +of tenderness. “I do so hope he will come up to London,” continued +Violet, who was not afraid of the Earl, and was determined not to be +put down. + +“You don’t know what you are talking about, my dear,” said Lord +Brentford. + +After this Phineas found it very difficult to extract any sympathy +from the Earl on behalf of the men who had been locked up. He was +moody and cross, and could not be induced to talk on the great +subject of the day. Violet Effingham declared that she did not care +how many Bunces were locked up; nor for how long,--adding, however, +a wish that Mr. Turnbull himself had been among the number of the +prisoners. Lady Laura was somewhat softer than this, and consented to +express pity in the case of Mr. Bunce himself; but Phineas perceived +that the pity was awarded to him and not to the sufferer. The feeling +against Mr. Turnbull was at the present moment so strong among all +the upper classes, that Mr. Bunce and his brethren might have been +kept in durance for a week without commiseration from them. + +“It is very hard certainly on a man like Mr. Bunce,” said Lady Laura. + +“Why did not Mr. Bunce stay at home and mind his business?” said the +Earl. + +Phineas spent the remainder of that day alone, and came to a +resolution that on the coming occasion he certainly would speak in +the House. The debate would be resumed on the Monday, and he would +rise to his legs on the very first moment that it became possible +for him to do so. And he would do nothing towards preparing a +speech;--nothing whatever. On this occasion he would trust entirely +to such words as might come to him at the moment;--ay, and to such +thoughts. He had before burdened his memory with preparations, and +the very weight of the burden had been too much for his mind. He had +feared to trust himself to speak, because he had felt that he was +not capable of performing the double labour of saying his lesson +by heart, and of facing the House for the first time. There should +be nothing now for him to remember. His thoughts were full of his +subject. He would support Mr. Mildmay’s bill with all his eloquence, +but he would implore Mr. Mildmay, and the Home Secretary, and the +Government generally, to abstain from animosity against the populace +of London, because they desired one special boon which Mr. Mildmay +did not think that it was his duty to give them. He hoped that ideas +and words would come to him. Ideas and words had been free enough +with him in the old days of the Dublin debating society. If they +failed him now, he must give the thing up, and go back to Mr. Low. + +On the Monday morning Phineas was for two hours at the police-court +in Westminster, and at about one on that day Mr. Bunce was liberated. +When he was brought up before the magistrate, Mr. Bunce spoke his +mind very freely as to the usage he had received, and declared his +intention of bringing an action against the sergeant who had detained +him. The magistrate, of course, took the part of the police, and +declared that, from the evidence of two men who were examined, Bunce +had certainly used such violence in the crowd as had justified his +arrest. + +“I used no violence,” said Bunce. + +“According to your own showing, you endeavoured to make your way up +to Mr. Turnbull’s carriage,” said the magistrate. + +“I was close to the carriage before the police even saw me,” said +Bunce. + +“But you tried to force your way round to the door.” + +“I used no force till a man had me by the collar to push me back; and +I wasn’t violent, not then. I told him I was doing what I had a right +to do,--and it was that as made him hang on to me.” + +“You were not doing what you had a right to do. You were assisting to +create a riot,” said the magistrate, with that indignation which a +London magistrate should always know how to affect. + +Phineas, however, was allowed to give evidence as to his landlord’s +character, and then Bunce was liberated. But before he went he +again swore that that should not be the last of it, and he told the +magistrate that he had been ill-used. When liberated, he was joined +by a dozen sympathising friends, who escorted him home, and among +them were one or two literary gentlemen, employed on those excellent +penny papers, the _People’s Banner_ and the _Ballot-box_. It was +their intention that Mr. Bunce’s case should not be allowed to sleep. +One of these gentlemen made a distinct offer to Phineas Finn of +unbounded popularity during life and of immortality afterwards, +if he, as a member of Parliament, would take up Bunce’s case with +vigour. Phineas, not quite understanding the nature of the offer, and +not as yet knowing the profession of the gentleman, gave some general +reply. + +“You come out strong, Mr. Finn, and we’ll see that you are properly +reported. I’m on the _Banner_, sir, and I’ll answer for that.” + +Phineas, who had been somewhat eager in expressing his sympathy +with Bunce, and had not given very close attention to the gentleman +who was addressing him, was still in the dark. The nature of the +_Banner_, which the gentleman was on, did not at once come home to +him. + +“Something ought to be done, certainly,” said Phineas. + +“We shall take it up strong,” said the gentleman, “and we shall be +happy to have you among us. You’ll find, Mr. Finn, that in public +life there’s nothing like having a horgan to back you. What is the +most you can do in the ’Ouse? Nothing, if you’re not reported. You’re +speaking to the country;--ain’t you? And you can’t do that without a +horgan, Mr. Finn. You come among us on the _Banner_, Mr. Finn. You +can’t do better.” + +Then Phineas understood the nature of the offer made to him. As they +parted, the literary gentleman gave our hero his card. “Mr. Quintus +Slide.” So much was printed. Then, on the corner of the card was +written, “_Banner_ Office, 137, Fetter Lane.” Mr. Quintus Slide +was a young man, under thirty, not remarkable for clean linen, and +who always talked of the “’Ouse.” But he was a well-known and not +undistinguished member of a powerful class of men. He had been a +reporter, and as such knew the “’Ouse” well, and was a writer for the +press. And, though he talked of “’Ouses” and “horgans”, he wrote good +English with great rapidity, and was possessed of that special sort +of political fervour which shows itself in a man’s work rather than +in his conduct. It was Mr. Slide’s taste to be an advanced reformer, +and in all his operations on behalf of the _People’s Banner_ he +was a reformer very much advanced. No man could do an article on the +people’s indefeasible rights with more pronounced vigour than Mr. +Slide. But it had never occurred to him as yet that he ought to care +for anything else than the fight,--than the advantage of having a +good subject on which to write slashing articles. Mr. Slide was an +energetic but not a thoughtful man; but in his thoughts on politics, +as far as they went with him, he regarded the wrongs of the people as +being of infinitely greater value than their rights. It was not that +he was insincere in all that he was daily saying;--but simply that +he never thought about it. Very early in life he had fallen among +“people’s friends,” and an opening on the liberal press had come in +his way. To be a “people’s friend” suited the turn of his ambition, +and he was a “people’s friend.” It was his business to abuse +Government, and to express on all occasions an opinion that as a +matter of course the ruling powers were the “people’s enemies.” Had +the ruling powers ceased to be the “people’s enemies,” Mr. Slide’s +ground would have been taken from under his feet. But such a +catastrophe was out of the question. That excellent old arrangement +that had gone on since demagogues were first invented was in +full vigour. There were the ruling powers and there were the +people,--devils on one side and angels on the other,--and as long +as a people’s friend had a pen in his hand all was right. + +Phineas, when he left the indignant Bunce to go among his friends, +walked to the House thinking a good deal of what Mr. Slide had said +to him. The potted peas Committee was again on, and he had intended +to be in the Committee Room by twelve punctually: but he had been +unable to leave Mr. Bunce in the lurch, and it was now past one. +Indeed, he had, from one unfortunate circumstance after another, +failed hitherto in giving to the potted peas that resolute attention +which the subject demanded. On the present occasion his mind was full +of Mr. Quintus Slide and the _People’s Banner_. After all, was there +not something in Mr. Slide’s proposition? He, Phineas, had come into +Parliament as it were under the wing of a Government pack, and his +friendships, which had been very successful, had been made with +Ministers, and with the friends of Ministers. He had made up his mind +to be Whig Ministerial, and to look for his profession in that line. +He had been specially fortified in this resolution by his dislike +to the ballot,--which dislike had been the result of Mr. Monk’s +teaching. Had Mr. Turnbull become his friend instead, it may well be +that he would have liked the ballot. On such subjects men must think +long, and be sure that they have thought in earnest, before they are +justified in saying that their opinions are the results of their +own thoughts. But now he began to reflect how far this ministerial +profession would suit him. Would it be much to be a Lord of the +Treasury, subject to the dominion of Mr. Ratler? Such lordship and +such subjection would be the result of success. He told himself +that he was at heart a true Liberal. Would it not be better for him +to abandon the idea of office trammels, and go among them on the +_People’s Banner_? A glow of enthusiasm came over him as he thought +of it. But what would Violet Effingham say to the _People’s Banner_ +and Mr. Quintus Slide? And he would have liked the _Banner_ better +had not Mr. Slide talked about the ’Ouse. + +From the Committee Room, in which, alas! he took no active part in +reference to the potted peas, he went down to the House, and was +present when the debate was resumed. Not unnaturally, one speaker +after another made some allusion to the row in the streets, and the +work which had fallen to the lot of the magistrates. Mr. Turnbull +had declared that he would vote against the second reading of Mr. +Mildmay’s bill, and had explained that he would do so because he +could consent to no Reform Bill which did not include the ballot as +one of its measures. The debate fashioned itself after this speech of +Mr. Turnbull’s, and turned again very much upon the ballot,--although +it had been thought that the late debate had settled that question. +One or two of Mr. Turnbull’s followers declared that they also would +vote against the bill,--of course, as not going far enough; and one +or two gentlemen from the Conservative benches extended a spoken +welcome to these new colleagues. Then Mr. Palliser got up and +addressed the House for an hour, struggling hard to bring back the +real subject, and to make the House understand that the ballot, +whether good or bad, had been knocked on the head, and that members +had no right at the present moment to consider anything but the +expediency or inexpediency of so much Reform as Mr. Mildmay presented +to them in the present bill. + +Phineas was determined to speak, and to speak on this evening if he +could catch the Speaker’s eye. Again the scene before him was going +round before him; again things became dim, and again he felt his +blood beating hard at his heart. But things were not so bad with +him as they had been before, because he had nothing to remember. He +hardly knew, indeed, what he intended to say. He had an idea that he +was desirous of joining in earnest support of the measure, with a +vehement protest against the injustice which had been done to the +people in general, and to Mr. Bunce in particular. He had firmly +resolved that no fear of losing favour with the Government should +induce him to hold his tongue as to the Buncean cruelties. Sooner +than do so he would certainly “go among them” at the _Banner_ office. + +He started up, wildly, when Mr. Palliser had completed his speech; +but the Speaker’s eye, not unnaturally, had travelled to the other +side of the House, and there was a Tory of the old school upon his +legs,--Mr. Western, the member for East Barsetshire, one of the +gallant few who dared to vote against Sir Robert Peel’s bill for +repealing the Corn Laws in 1846. Mr. Western spoke with a slow, +ponderous, unimpressive, but very audible voice, for some twenty +minutes, disdaining to make reference to Mr. Turnbull and his +politics, but pleading against any Reform, with all the old +arguments. Phineas did not hear a word that he said;--did not attempt +to hear. He was keen in his resolution to make another attempt at the +Speaker’s eye, and at the present moment was thinking of that, and +of that only. He did not even give himself a moment’s reflection as +to what his own speech should be. He would dash at it and take his +chance, resolved that at least he would not fail in courage. Twice he +was on his legs before Mr. Western had finished his slow harangue, +and twice he was compelled to reseat himself,--thinking that he had +subjected himself to ridicule. At last the member for East Barset sat +down, and Phineas was conscious that he had lost a moment or two in +presenting himself again to the Speaker. + +He held his ground, however, though he saw that he had various rivals +for the right of speech. He held his ground, and was instantly aware +that he had gained his point. There was a slight pause, and as +some other urgent member did not reseat himself, Phineas heard the +president of that august assembly call upon himself to address the +House. The thing was now to be done. There he was with the House of +Commons at his feet,--a crowded House, bound to be his auditors as +long as he should think fit to address them, and reporters by tens +and twenties in the gallery ready and eager to let the country know +what the young member for Loughshane would say in this his maiden +speech. + +Phineas Finn had sundry gifts, a powerful and pleasant voice, which +he had learned to modulate, a handsome presence, and a certain +natural mixture of modesty and self-reliance, which would certainly +protect him from the faults of arrogance and pomposity, and which, +perhaps, might carry him through the perils of his new position. And +he had also the great advantage of friends in the House who were +anxious that he should do well. But he had not that gift of slow +blood which on the former occasion would have enabled him to remember +his prepared speech, and which would now have placed all his own +resources within his own reach. He began with the expression of an +opinion that every true reformer ought to accept Mr. Mildmay’s bill, +even if it were accepted only as an instalment,--but before he had +got through these sentences, he became painfully conscious that he +was repeating his own words. + +He was cheered almost from the outset, and yet he knew as he went +on that he was failing. He had certain arguments at his fingers’ +ends,--points with which he was, in truth, so familiar that he need +hardly have troubled himself to arrange them for special use,--and he +forgot even these. He found that he was going on with one platitude +after another as to the benefit of reform, in a manner that would +have shamed him six or seven years ago at a debating club. He pressed +on, fearing that words would fail him altogether if he paused;--but +he did in truth speak very much too fast, knocking his words together +so that no reporter could properly catch them. But he had nothing to +say for the bill except what hundreds had said before, and hundreds +would say again. Still he was cheered, and still he went on; and as +he became more and more conscious of his failure there grew upon him +the idea,--the dangerous hope, that he might still save himself from +ignominy by the eloquence of his invective against the police. + +He tried it, and succeeded thoroughly in making the House understand +that he was very angry,--but he succeeded in nothing else. He could +not catch the words to express the thoughts of his mind. He could not +explain his idea that the people out of the House had as much right +to express their opinion in favour of the ballot as members in the +House had to express theirs against it; and that animosity had been +shown to the people by the authorities because they had so expressed +their opinion. Then he attempted to tell the story of Mr. Bunce in a +light and airy way, failed, and sat down in the middle of it. Again +he was cheered by all around him,--cheered as a new member is usually +cheered,--and in the midst of the cheer would have blown out his +brains had there been a pistol there ready for such an operation. + +That hour with him was very bad. He did not know how to get up and +go away, or how to keep his place. For some time he sat with his +hat off, forgetful of his privilege of wearing it; and then put it +on hurriedly, as though the fact of his not wearing it must have +been observed by everybody. At last, at about two, the debate was +adjourned, and then as he was slowly leaving the House, thinking how +he might creep away without companionship, Mr. Monk took him by the +arm. + +“Are you going to walk?” said Mr. Monk. + +“Yes”, said Phineas; “I shall walk.” + +“Then we may go together as far as Pall Mall. Come along.” Phineas +had no means of escape, and left the House hanging on Mr. Monk’s arm, +without a word. Nor did Mr. Monk speak till they were out in Palace +Yard. “It was not much amiss,” said Mr. Monk; “but you’ll do better +than that yet.” + +“Mr. Monk,” said Phineas, “I have made an ass of myself so +thoroughly, that there will at any rate be this good result, that I +shall never make an ass of myself again after the same fashion.” + +“Ah!--I thought you had some such feeling as that, and therefore I +was determined to speak to you. You may be sure, Finn, that I do not +care to flatter you, and I think you ought to know that, as far as I +am able, I will tell you the truth. Your speech, which was certainly +nothing great, was about on a par with other maiden speeches in the +House of Commons. You have done yourself neither good nor harm. Nor +was it desirable that you should. My advice to you now is, never to +avoid speaking on any subject that interests you, but never to speak +for above three minutes till you find yourself as much at home on +your legs as you are when sitting. But do not suppose that you have +made an ass of yourself,--that is, in any special degree. Now, +good-night.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +Phineas Discussed + + +Lady Laura Kennedy heard two accounts of her friend’s speech,--and +both from men who had been present. Her husband was in his place, in +accordance with his constant practice, and Lord Brentford had been +seated, perhaps unfortunately, in the peers’ gallery. + +“And you think it was a failure?” Lady Laura said to her husband. + +“It certainly was not a success. There was nothing particular about +it. There was a good deal of it you could hardly hear.” + +After that she got the morning newspapers, and turned with great +interest to the report. Phineas Finn had been, as it were, adopted by +her as her own political offspring,--or at any rate as her political +godchild. She had made promises on his behalf to various personages +of high political standing,--to her father, to Mr. Monk, to the Duke +of St. Bungay, and even to Mr. Mildmay himself. She had thoroughly +intended that Phineas Finn should be a political success from the +first; and since her marriage, she had, I think, been more intent +upon it than before. Perhaps there was a feeling on her part that +having wronged him in one way, she would repay him in another. She +had become so eager for his success,--for a while scorning to conceal +her feeling,--that her husband had unconsciously begun to entertain +a dislike to her eagerness. We know how quickly women arrive at an +understanding of the feelings of those with whom they live; and now, +on that very occasion, Lady Laura perceived that her husband did not +take in good part her anxiety on behalf of her friend. She saw that +it was so as she turned over the newspaper looking for the report of +the speech. It was given in six lines, and at the end of it there was +an intimation,--expressed in the shape of advice,--that the young +orator had better speak more slowly if he wished to be efficacious +either with the House or with the country. + +“He seems to have been cheered a good deal,” said Lady Laura. + +“All members are cheered at their first speech,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“I’ve no doubt he’ll do well yet,” said Lady Laura. + +“Very likely,” said Mr. Kennedy. Then he turned to his newspaper, and +did not take his eyes off it as long as his wife remained with him. + +Later in the day Lady Laura saw her father, and Miss Effingham was +with her at the time. Lord Brentford said something which indicated +that he had heard the debate on the previous evening, and Lady Laura +instantly began to ask him about Phineas. + +“The less said the better,” was the Earl’s reply. + +“Do you mean that it was so bad as that?” asked Lady Laura. + +“It was not very bad at first;--though indeed nobody could say it was +very good. But he got himself into a mess about the police and the +magistrates before he had done, and nothing but the kindly feeling +always shown to a first effort saved him from being coughed down.” +Lady Laura had not a word more to say about Phineas to her father; +but, womanlike, she resolved that she would not abandon him. How +many first failures in the world had been the precursors of ultimate +success! “Mildmay will lose his bill,” said the Earl, sorrowfully. +“There does not seem to be a doubt about that.” + +“And what will you all do?” asked Lady Laura. + +“We must go to the country, I suppose,” said the Earl. + +“What’s the use? You can’t have a more liberal House than you have +now,” said Lady Laura. + +“We may have one less liberal,--or rather less radical,--with fewer +men to support Mr. Turnbull. I do not see what else we can do. They +say that there are no less than twenty-seven men on our side of the +House who will either vote with Turnbull against us, or will decline +to vote at all.” + +“Every one of them ought to lose his seat,” said Lady Laura. + +“But what can we do? How is the Queen’s Government to be carried on?” +We all know the sad earnestness which impressed itself on the Earl’s +brow as he asked these momentous questions. “I don’t suppose that Mr. +Turnbull can form a Ministry.” + +“With Mr. Daubeny as whipper-in, perhaps he might,” said Lady Laura. + +“And will Mr. Finn lose his seat?” asked Violet Effingham. “Most +probably,” said the Earl. “He only got it by an accident.” + +“You must find him a seat somewhere in England,” said Violet. + +“That might be difficult,” said the Earl, who then left the room. + +The two women remained together for some quarter of an hour before +they spoke again. Then Lady Laura said something about her brother. +“If there be a dissolution, I hope Oswald will stand for Loughton.” +Loughton was a borough close to Saulsby, in which, as regarded its +political interests, Lord Brentford was supposed to have considerable +influence. To this Violet said nothing. “It is quite time,” continued +Lady Laura, “that old Mr. Standish should give way. He has had the +seat for twenty-five years, and has never done anything, and he +seldom goes to the House now.” + +“He is not your uncle, is he?” + +“No; he is papa’s cousin; but he is ever so much older than +papa;--nearly eighty, I believe.” + +“Would not that be just the place for Mr. Finn?” said Violet. + +Then Lady Laura became very serious. “Oswald would of course have a +better right to it than anybody else.” + +“But would Lord Chiltern go into Parliament? I have heard him declare +that he would not.” + +“If we could get papa to ask him, I think he would change his mind,” +said Lady Laura. + +There was again silence for a few moments, after which Violet +returned to the original subject of their conversation. “It would be +a thousand pities that Mr. Finn should be turned out into the cold. +Don’t you think so?” + +“I, for one, should be very sorry.” + +“So should I,--and the more so from what Lord Brentford says about +his not speaking well last night. I don’t think that it is very much +of an accomplishment for a gentleman to speak well. Mr. Turnbull, I +suppose, speaks well; and they say that that horrid man, Mr. Bonteen, +can talk by the hour together. I don’t think that it shows a man to +be clever at all. But I believe Mr. Finn would do it, if he set his +mind to it, and I shall think it a great shame if they turn him out.” + +“It would depend very much, I suppose, on Lord Tulla.” + +“I don’t know anything about Lord Tulla,” said Violet; “but I’m quite +sure that he might have Loughton, if we manage it properly. Of course +Lord Chiltern should have it if he wants it, but I don’t think he +will stand in Mr. Finn’s way.” + +“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” said Lady Laura, gravely. +“Papa thinks so much about the borough.” The reader will remember +that both Lord Brentford and his daughter were thorough reformers! +The use of a little borough of his own, however, is a convenience to +a great peer. + +“Those difficult things have always to be talked of for a long while, +and then they become easy,” said Violet. “I believe if you were +to propose to Mr. Kennedy to give all his property to the Church +Missionaries and emigrate to New Zealand, he’d begin to consider it +seriously after a time.” + +“I shall not try, at any rate.” + +“Because you don’t want to go to New Zealand;--but you might try +about Loughton for poor Mr. Finn.” + +“Violet,” said Lady Laura, after a moment’s pause;--and she spoke +sharply; “Violet, I believe you are in love with Mr. Finn.” + +“That’s just like you, Laura.” + +“I never made such an accusation against you before, or against +anybody else that I can remember. But I do begin to believe that you +are in love with Mr. Finn.” + +“Why shouldn’t I be in love with him, if I like?” + +“I say nothing about that;--only he has not got a penny.” + +“But I have, my dear.” + +“And I doubt whether you have any reason for supposing that he is in +love with you.” + +“That would be my affair, my dear.” + +“Then you are in love with him?” + +“That is my affair also.” + +Lady Laura shrugged her shoulders. “Of course it is; and if you tell +me to hold my tongue, of course I will do so. If you ask me whether I +think it a good match, of course I must say I do not.” + +“I don’t tell you to hold your tongue, and I don’t ask you what you +think about the match. You are quite welcome to talk as much about me +as you please;--but as to Mr. Phineas Finn, you have no business to +think anything.” + +“I shouldn’t talk to anybody but yourself.” + +“I am growing to be quite indifferent as to what people say. Lady +Baldock asked me the other day whether I was going to throw myself +away on Mr. Laurence Fitzgibbon.” + +“No!” + +“Indeed she did.” + +“And what did you answer?” + +“I told her that it was not quite settled; but that as I had only +spoken to him once during the last two years, and then for not more +than half a minute, and as I wasn’t sure whether I knew him by sight, +and as I had reason to suppose he didn’t know my name, there might, +perhaps, be a delay of a week or two before the thing came off. Then +she flounced out of the room.” + +“But what made her ask about Mr. Fitzgibbon?” + +“Somebody had been hoaxing her. I am beginning to think that Augusta +does it for her private amusement. If so, I shall think more highly +of my dear cousin than I have hitherto done. But, Laura, as you +have made a similar accusation against me, and as I cannot get out +of it with you as I do with my aunt, I must ask you to hear my +protestation. I am not in love with Mr. Phineas Finn. Heaven help +me;--as far as I can tell, I am not in love with any one, and never +shall be.” Lady Laura looked pleased. “Do you know,” continued +Violet, “that I think I could be in love with Mr. Phineas Finn, if +I could be in love with anybody?” Then Lady Laura looked displeased. +“In the first place, he is a gentleman,” continued Violet. “Then he +is a man of spirit. And then he has not too much spirit;--not that +kind of spirit which makes some men think that they are the finest +things going. His manners are perfect;--not Chesterfieldian, and yet +never offensive. He never browbeats any one, and never toadies any +one. He knows how to live easily with men of all ranks, without any +appearance of claiming a special status for himself. If he were made +Archbishop of Canterbury to-morrow, I believe he would settle down +into the place of the first subject in the land without arrogance, +and without false shame.” + +“You are his eulogist with a vengeance.” + +“I am his eulogist; but I am not in love with him. If he were to +ask me to be his wife to-morrow, I should be distressed, and should +refuse him. If he were to marry my dearest friend in the world, I +should tell him to kiss me and be my brother. As to Mr. Phineas +Finn,--those are my sentiments.” + +“What you say is very odd.” + +“Why odd?” + +“Simply because mine are the same.” + +“Are they the same? I once thought, Laura, that you did love +him;--that you meant to be his wife.” + +Lady Laura sat for a while without making any reply to this. She +sat with her elbow on the table and with her face leaning on her +hand,--thinking how far it would tend to her comfort if she spoke in +true confidence. Violet during the time never took her eyes from her +friend’s face, but remained silent as though waiting for an answer. +She had been very explicit as to her feelings. Would Laura Kennedy be +equally explicit? She was too clever to forget that such plainness +of speech would be, must be more difficult to Lady Laura than to +herself. Lady Laura was a married woman; but she felt that her friend +would have been wrong to search for secrets, unless she were ready to +tell her own. It was probably some such feeling which made Lady Laura +speak at last. + +“So I did, nearly--” said Lady Laura; “very nearly. You told me just +now that you had money, and could therefore do as you pleased. I had +no money, and could not do as I pleased.” + +“And you told me also that I had no reason for thinking that he cared +for me.” + +“Did I? Well;--I suppose you have no reason. He did care for me. He +did love me.” + +“He told you so?” + +“Yes;--he told me so.” + +“And how did you answer him?” + +“I had that very morning become engaged to Mr. Kennedy. That was my +answer.” + +“And what did he say when you told him?” + +“I do not know. I cannot remember. But he behaved very well.” + +“And now,--if he were to love me, you would grudge me his love?” + +“Not for that reason,--not if I know myself. Oh no! I would not be so +selfish as that.” + +“For what reason then?” + +“Because I look upon it as written in heaven that you are to be +Oswald’s wife.” + +“Heaven’s writings then are false,” said Violet, getting up and +walking away. + +In the meantime Phineas was very wretched at home. When he reached +his lodgings after leaving the House,--after his short conversation +with Mr. Monk,--he tried to comfort himself with what that gentleman +had said to him. For a while, while he was walking, there had been +some comfort in Mr. Monk’s words. Mr. Monk had much experience, and +doubtless knew what he was saying,--and there might yet be hope. But +all this hope faded away when Phineas was in his own rooms. There +came upon him, as he looked round them, an idea that he had no +business to be in Parliament, that he was an impostor, that he was +going about the world under false pretences, and that he would never +set himself aright, even unto himself, till he had gone through some +terrible act of humiliation. He had been a cheat even to Mr. Quintus +Slide of the _Banner_, in accepting an invitation to come among +them. He had been a cheat to Lady Laura, in that he had induced +her to think that he was fit to live with her. He was a cheat to +Violet Effingham, in assuming that he was capable of making himself +agreeable to her. He was a cheat to Lord Chiltern when riding his +horses, and pretending to be a proper associate for a man of fortune. +Why,--what was his income? What his birth? What his proper position? +And now he had got the reward which all cheats deserve. Then he went +to bed, and as he lay there, he thought of Mary Flood Jones. Had he +plighted his troth to Mary, and then worked like a slave under Mr. +Low’s auspices,--he would not have been a cheat. + +It seemed to him that he had hardly been asleep when the girl +came into his room in the morning. “Sir,” said she, “there’s that +gentleman there.” + +“What gentleman?” + +“The old gentleman.” + +Then Phineas knew that Mr. Clarkson was in his sitting-room, and +that he would not leave it till he had seen the owner of the room. +Nay,--Phineas was pretty sure that Mr. Clarkson would come into the +bedroom, if he were kept long waiting. “Damn the old gentleman,” said +Phineas in his wrath;--and the maid-servant heard him say so. + +In about twenty minutes he went out into the sitting-room, with +his slippers on and in his dressing-gown. Suffering under the +circumstances of such an emergency, how is any man to go through the +work of dressing and washing with proper exactness? As to the prayers +which he said on that morning, I think that no question should be +asked. He came out with a black cloud on his brow, and with his mind +half made up to kick Mr. Clarkson out of the room. Mr. Clarkson, when +he saw him, moved his chin round within his white cravat, as was a +custom with him, and put his thumb and forefinger on his lips, and +then shook his head. + +“Very bad, Mr. Finn; very bad indeed; very bad, ain’t it?” + +“You coming here in this way at all times in the day is very bad,” +said Phineas. + +“And where would you have me go? Would you like to see me down in the +lobby of the House?” + +“To tell you the truth, Mr. Clarkson, I don’t want to see you +anywhere.” + +“Ah; yes; I daresay! And that’s what you call honest, being a +Parliament gent! You had my money, and then you tell me you don’t +want to see me any more!” + +“I have not had your money,” said Phineas. + +“But let me tell you,” continued Mr. Clarkson, “that I want to see +you;--and shall go on seeing you till the money is paid.” + +“I’ve not had any of your money,” said Phineas. + +Mr. Clarkson again twitched his chin about on the top of his cravat +and smiled. “Mr. Finn,” said he, showing the bill, “is that your +name?” + +“Yes, it is.” + +“Then I want my money.” + +“I have no money to give you.” + +“Do be punctual now. Why ain’t you punctual? I’d do anything for you +if you were punctual. I would indeed.” Mr. Clarkson, as he said this, +sat down in the chair which had been placed for our hero’s breakfast, +and cutting a slice off the loaf, began to butter it with great +composure. + +“Mr. Clarkson,” said Phineas, “I cannot ask you to breakfast here. I +am engaged.” + +“I’ll just take a bit of bread and butter all the same,” said +Clarkson. “Where do you get your butter? Now I could tell you a woman +who’d give it you cheaper and a deal better than this. This is all +lard. Shall I send her to you?” + +“No,” said Phineas. There was no tea ready, and therefore Mr. +Clarkson emptied the milk into a cup and drank it. “After this,” said +Phineas, “I must beg, Mr. Clarkson, that you will never come to my +room any more. I shall not be at home to you.” + +“The lobby of the House is the same thing to me,” said Mr. Clarkson. +“They know me there well. I wish you’d be punctual, and then we’d be +the best of friends.” After that Mr. Clarkson, having finished his +bread and butter, took his leave. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +The Second Reading Is Carried + + +The debate on the bill was prolonged during the whole of that week. +Lord Brentford, who loved his seat in the Cabinet and the glory of +being a Minister, better even than he loved his borough, had taken +a gloomy estimate when he spoke of twenty-seven defaulters, and of +the bill as certainly lost. Men who were better able than he to make +estimates,--the Bonteens and Fitzgibbons on each side of the House, +and above all, the Ratlers and Robys, produced lists from day to +day which varied now by three names in one direction, then by two +in another, and which fluctuated at last by units only. They all +concurred in declaring that it would be a very near division. A great +effort was made to close the debate on the Friday, but it failed, and +the full tide of speech was carried on till the following Monday. On +that morning Phineas heard Mr. Ratler declare at the club that, as +far as his judgment went, the division at that moment was a fair +subject for a bet. “There are two men doubtful in the House,” said +Ratler, “and if one votes on one side and one on the other, or if +neither votes at all, it will be a tie.” Mr. Roby, however, the +whip on the other side, was quite sure that one at least of these +gentlemen would go into his lobby, and that the other would not go +into Mr. Ratler’s lobby. I am inclined to think that the town was +generally inclined to put more confidence in the accuracy of Mr. Roby +than in that of Mr. Ratler; and among betting men there certainly +was a point given by those who backed the Conservatives. The odds, +however, were lost, for on the division the numbers in the two +lobbies were equal, and the Speaker gave his casting vote in favour +of the Government. The bill was read a second time, and was lost, as +a matter of course, in reference to any subsequent action. Mr. Roby +declared that even Mr. Mildmay could not go on with nothing but the +Speaker’s vote to support him. Mr. Mildmay had no doubt felt that he +could not go on with his bill from the moment in which Mr. Turnbull +had declared his opposition; but he could not with propriety withdraw +it in deference to Mr. Turnbull’s opinion. + +During the week Phineas had had his hands sufficiently full. Twice he +had gone to the potted peas inquiry; but he had been at the office +of the _People’s Banner_ more often than that. Bunce had been very +resolute in his determination to bring an action against the police +for false imprisonment, even though he spent every shilling of his +savings in doing so. And when his wife, in the presence of Phineas, +begged that bygones might be bygones, reminding him that spilt milk +could not be recovered, he called her a mean-spirited woman. Then +Mrs. Bunce wept a flood of tears, and told her favourite lodger that +for her all comfort in this world was over. “Drat the reformers, I +say. And I wish there was no Parliament; so I do. What’s the use of +all the voting, when it means nothing but dry bread and cross words?” +Phineas by no means encouraged his landlord in his litigious spirit, +advising him rather to keep his money in his pocket, and leave the +fighting of the battle to the columns of the _Banner_,--which would +fight it, at any rate, with economy. But Bunce, though he delighted +in the _Banner_, and showed an unfortunate readiness to sit at the +feet of Mr. Quintus Slide, would have his action at law;--in which +resolution Mr. Slide did, I fear, encourage him behind the back of +his better friend, Phineas Finn. + +Phineas went with Bunce to Mr. Low’s chambers,--for Mr. Low had in +some way become acquainted with the law-stationer’s journeyman,--and +there some very good advice was given. “Have you asked yourself what +is your object, Mr. Bunce?” said Mr. Low. Mr. Bunce declared he had +asked himself that question, and had answered it. His object was +redress. “In the shape of compensation to yourself,” suggested Mr. +Low. No; Mr. Bunce would not admit that he personally required any +compensation. The redress wanted was punishment to the man. “Is it +for vengeance?” asked Mr. Low. No; it was not for vengeance, Mr. +Bunce declared. “It ought not to be,” continued Mr. Low; “because, +though you think that the man exceeded in his duty, you must feel +that he was doing so through no personal ill-will to yourself.” + +“What I want is, to have the fellows kept in their proper places,” +said Mr. Bunce. + +“Exactly;--and therefore these things, when they occur, are mentioned +in the press and in Parliament,--and the attention of a Secretary of +State is called to them. Thank God, we don’t have very much of that +kind of thing in England.” + +“Maybe we shall have more if we don’t look to it,” said Bunce +stoutly. + +“We always are looking to it,” said Mr. Low;--“looking to it very +carefully. But I don’t think anything is to be done in that way by +indictment against a single man, whose conduct has been already +approved by the magistrates. If you want notoriety, Mr. Bunce, and +don’t mind what you pay for it; or have got anybody else to pay for +it; then indeed--” + +“There ain’t nobody to pay for it,” said Bunce, waxing angry. + +“Then I certainly should not pay for it myself if I were you,” said +Mr. Low. + +But Bunce was not to be counselled out of his intention. When he was +out in the square with Phineas he expressed great anger against Mr. +Low. “He don’t know what patriotism means,” said the law scrivener. +“And then he talks to me about notoriety! It has always been the +same way with ’em. If a man shows a spark of public feeling, it’s +all hambition. I don’t want no notoriety. I wants to earn my bread +peaceable, and to be let alone when I’m about my own business. I pays +rates for the police to look after rogues, not to haul folks about +and lock ’em up for days and nights, who is doing what they has a +legal right to do.” After that, Bunce went to his attorney, to the +great detriment of the business at the stationer’s shop, and Phineas +visited the office of the _People’s Banner_. There he wrote a leading +article about Bunce’s case, for which he was in due time to be paid +a guinea. After all, the _People’s Banner_ might do more for him in +this way than ever would be done by Parliament. Mr. Slide, however, +and another gentleman at the _Banner_ office, much older than Mr. +Slide, who announced himself as the actual editor, were anxious that +Phineas should rid himself of his heterodox political resolutions +about the ballot. It was not that they cared much about his own +opinions; and when Phineas attempted to argue with the editor on the +merits of the ballot, the editor put him down very shortly. “We go in +for it, Mr. Finn,” he said. If Mr. Finn would go in for it too, the +editor seemed to think that Mr. Finn might make himself very useful +at the _Banner_ Office. Phineas stoutly maintained that this was +impossible,--and was therefore driven to confine his articles in the +service of the people to those open subjects on which his opinions +agreed with those of the _People’s Banner_. This was his second +article, and the editor seemed to think that, backward as he was +about the ballot, he was too useful an aid to be thrown aside. A +member of Parliament is not now all that he was once, but still there +is a prestige in the letters affixed to his name which makes him loom +larger in the eyes of the world than other men. Get into Parliament, +if it be but for the borough of Loughshane, and the _People’s +Banners_ all round will be glad of your assistance, as will also +companies limited and unlimited to a very marvellous extent. Phineas +wrote his article and promised to look in again, and so they went +on. Mr. Quintus Slide continued to assure him that a “horgan” was +indispensable to him, and Phineas began to accommodate his ears to +the sound which had at first been so disagreeable. He found that his +acquaintance, Mr. Slide, had ideas of his own as to getting into +the ’Ouse at some future time. “I always look upon the ’Ouse as my +oyster, and ’ere’s my sword,” said Mr. Slide, brandishing an old +quill pen. “And I feel that if once there I could get along. I do +indeed. What is it a man wants? It’s only pluck,--that he shouldn’t +funk because a ’undred other men are looking at him.” Then Phineas +asked him whether he had any idea of a constituency, to which Mr. +Slide replied that he had no absolutely formed intention. Many +boroughs, however, would doubtless be set free from aristocratic +influence by the redistribution of seats which must take place, as +Mr. Slide declared, at any rate in the next session. Then he named +the borough of Loughton; and Phineas Finn, thinking of Saulsby, +thinking of the Earl, thinking of Lady Laura, and thinking of Violet, +walked away disgusted. Would it not be better that the quiet town, +clustering close round the walls of Saulsby, should remain as it was, +than that it should be polluted by the presence of Mr. Quintus Slide? + +On the last day of the debate, at a few moments before four o’clock, +Phineas encountered another terrible misfortune. He had been at the +potted peas since twelve, and had on this occasion targed two or +three commissariat officers very tightly with questions respecting +cabbages and potatoes, and had asked whether the officers on board +a certain ship did not always eat preserved asparagus while the men +had not even a bean. I fear that he had been put up to this business +by Mr. Quintus Slide, and that he made himself nasty. There was, +however, so much nastiness of the kind going, that his little effort +made no great difference. The conservative members of the Committee, +on whose side of the House the inquiry had originated, did not +scruple to lay all manner of charges to officers whom, were they +themselves in power, they would be bound to support and would support +with all their energies. About a quarter before four the members of +the Committee had dismissed their last witness for the day, being +desirous of not losing their chance of seats on so important an +occasion, and hurried down into the lobby,--so that they might enter +the House before prayers. Phineas here was button-holed by Barrington +Erle, who said something to him as to the approaching division. They +were standing in front of the door of the House, almost in the middle +of the lobby, with a crowd of members around them,--on a spot which, +as frequenters know, is hallowed ground, and must not be trodden by +strangers. He was in the act of answering Erle, when he was touched +on the arm, and on turning round, saw Mr. Clarkson. “About that +little bill, Mr. Finn,” said the horrible man, turning his chin round +over his white cravat. “They always tell me at your lodgings that +you ain’t at home.” By this time a policeman was explaining to Mr. +Clarkson with gentle violence that he must not stand there,--that he +must go aside into one of the corners. “I know all that,” said Mr. +Clarkson, retreating. “Of course I do. But what is a man to do when a +gent won’t see him at home?” Mr. Clarkson stood aside in his corner +quietly, giving the policeman no occasion for further action against +him; but in retreating he spoke loud, and there was a lull of voices +around, and twenty members at least had heard what had been said. +Phineas Finn no doubt had his privilege, but Mr. Clarkson was +determined that the privilege should avail him as little as possible. + +It was very hard. The real offender, the Lord of the Treasury, the +peer’s son, with a thousand a year paid by the country was not +treated with this cruel persecution. Phineas had in truth never taken +a farthing from any one but his father; and though doubtless he owed +something at this moment, he had no creditor of his own that was even +angry with him. As the world goes he was a clear man,--but for this +debt of his friend Fitzgibbon. He left Barrington Erle in the lobby, +and hurried into the House, blushing up to the eyes. He looked for +Fitzgibbon in his place, but the Lord of the Treasury was not as yet +there. Doubtless he would be there for the division, and Phineas +resolved that he would speak a bit of his mind before he let his +friend out of his sight. + +There were some great speeches made on that evening. Mr. Gresham +delivered an oration of which men said that it would be known in +England as long as there were any words remaining of English +eloquence. In it he taunted Mr. Turnbull with being a recreant to +the people, of whom he called himself so often the champion. But Mr. +Turnbull was not in the least moved. Mr. Gresham knew well enough +that Mr. Turnbull was not to be moved by any words;--but the words +were not the less telling to the House and to the country. Men, who +heard it, said that Mr. Gresham forgot himself in that speech, forgot +his party, forgot his strategy, forgot his long-drawn schemes,--even +his love of applause, and thought only of his cause. Mr. Daubeny +replied to him with equal genius, and with equal skill,--if not with +equal heart. Mr. Gresham had asked for the approbation of all present +and of all future reformers. Mr. Daubeny denied him both,--the one +because he would not succeed, and the other because he would not have +deserved success. Then Mr. Mildmay made his reply, getting up at +about three o’clock, and uttered a prayer,--a futile prayer,--that +this his last work on behalf of his countrymen might be successful. +His bill was read a second time, as I have said before, in obedience +to the casting vote of the Speaker,--but a majority such as that was +tantamount to a defeat. + +There was, of course, on that night no declaration as to what +ministers would do. Without a meeting of the Cabinet, and without +some further consideration, though each might know that the bill +would be withdrawn, they could not say in what way they would act. +But late as was the hour, there were many words on the subject before +members were in their beds. Mr. Turnbull and Mr. Monk left the House +together, and perhaps no two gentlemen in it had in former sessions +been more in the habit of walking home arm-in-arm and discussing what +each had heard and what each had said in that assembly. Latterly +these two men had gone strangely asunder in their paths,--very +strangely for men who had for years walked so closely together. And +this separation had been marked by violent words spoken against each +other,--by violent words, at least, spoken against him in office by +the one who had never contaminated his hands by the Queen’s shilling. +And yet, on such an occasion as this, they were able to walk away +from the House arm-in-arm, and did not fly at each other’s throat by +the way. + +“Singular enough, is it not,” said Mr. Turnbull, “that the thing +should have been so close?” + +“Very odd,” said Mr. Monk; “but men have said that it would be so all +the week.” + +“Gresham was very fine,” said Mr. Turnbull. + +“Very fine, indeed. I never have heard anything like it before.” + +“Daubeny was very powerful too,” said Mr. Turnbull. + +“Yes;--no doubt. The occasion was great, and he answered to the spur. +But Gresham’s was the speech of the debate.” + +“Well;--yes; perhaps it was,” said Mr. Turnbull, who was thinking of +his own flight the other night, and who among his special friends had +been much praised for what he had then done. But of course he made +no allusion to his own doings,--or to those of Mr. Monk. In this way +they conversed for some twenty minutes, till they parted; but neither +of them interrogated the other as to what either might be called upon +to do in consequence of the division which had just been effected. +They might still be intimate friends, but the days of confidence +between them were passed. + +Phineas had seen Laurence Fitzgibbon enter the House,--which he did +quite late in the night, so as to be in time for the division. No +doubt he had dined in the House, and had been all the evening in the +library,--or in the smoking-room. When Mr. Mildmay was on his legs +making his reply, Fitzgibbon had sauntered in, not choosing to wait +till he might be rung up by the bell at the last moment. Phineas was +near him as they passed by the tellers, near him in the lobby, and +near him again as they all passed back into the House. But at the +last moment he thought that he would miss his prey. In the crowd +as they left the House he failed to get his hand upon his friend’s +shoulder. But he hurried down the members’ passage, and just at the +gate leading out into Westminster Hall he overtook Fitzgibbon walking +arm-in-arm with Barrington Erle. + +“Laurence,” he said, taking hold of his countryman’s arm with a +decided grasp, “I want to speak to you for a moment, if you please.” + +“Speak away,” said Laurence. Then Phineas, looking up into his face, +knew very well that he had been--what the world calls, dining. + +Phineas remembered at the moment that Barrington Erle had been close +to him when the odious money-lender had touched his arm and made +his inquiry about that “little bill.” He much wished to make Erle +understand that the debt was not his own,--that he was not in the +hands of usurers in reference to his own concerns. But there was a +feeling within him that he still,--even still,--owed something to his +friendship to Fitzgibbon. “Just give me your arm, and come on with me +for a minute,” said Phineas. “Erle will excuse us.” + +“Oh, blazes!” said Laurence, “what is it you’re after? I ain’t good +at private conferences at three in the morning. We’re all out, and +isn’t that enough for ye?” + +“I have been dreadfully annoyed to-night,” said Phineas, “and I +wished to speak to you about it.” + +“Bedad, Finn, my boy, and there are a good many of us are +annoyed;--eh, Barrington?” + +Phineas perceived clearly that though Fitzgibbon had been dining, +there was as much of cunning in all this as of wine, and he was +determined not to submit to such unlimited ill-usage. “My annoyance +comes from your friend, Mr. Clarkson, who had the impudence to +address me in the lobby of the House.” + +“And serve you right, too, Finn, my boy. Why the devil did you sport +your oak to him? He has told me all about it. There ain’t such a +patient little fellow as Clarkson anywhere, if you’ll only let him +have his own way. He’ll look in, as he calls it, three times a week +for a whole season, and do nothing further. Of course he don’t like +to be locked out.” + +“Is that the gentleman with whom the police interfered in the lobby?” +Erle inquired. + +“A confounded bill discounter to whom our friend here has introduced +me,--for his own purposes,” said Phineas. + +“A very gentleman-like fellow,” said Laurence. “Barrington knows +him, I daresay. Look here, Finn, my boy, take my advice. Ask him to +breakfast, and let him understand that the house will always be open +to him.” After this Laurence Fitzgibbon and Barrington Erle got into +a cab together, and were driven away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +A Cabinet Meeting + + +And now will the Muses assist me while I sing an altogether new song? +On the Tuesday the Cabinet met at the First Lord’s official residence +in Downing Street, and I will attempt to describe what, according to +the bewildered brain of a poor fictionist, was said or might have +been said, what was done or might have been done, on so august an +occasion. + +The poor fictionist very frequently finds himself to have been wrong +in his description of things in general, and is told so, roughly by +the critics, and tenderly by the friends of his bosom. He is moved +to tell of things of which he omits to learn the nature before he +tells of them--as should be done by a strictly honest fictionist. He +catches salmon in October; or shoots his partridges in March. His +dahlias bloom in June, and his birds sing in the autumn. He opens the +opera-houses before Easter, and makes Parliament sit on a Wednesday +evening. And then those terrible meshes of the Law! How is a +fictionist, in these excited days, to create the needed biting +interest without legal difficulties; and how again is he to steer his +little bark clear of so many rocks,--when the rocks and the shoals +have been purposely arranged to make the taking of a pilot on board a +necessity? As to those law meshes, a benevolent pilot will, indeed, +now and again give a poor fictionist a helping hand,--not used, +however, generally, with much discretion. But from whom is any +assistance to come in the august matter of a Cabinet assembly? There +can be no such assistance. No man can tell aught but they who will +tell nothing. But then, again, there is this safety, that let the +story be ever so mistold,--let the fiction be ever so far removed +from the truth, no critic short of a Cabinet Minister himself can +convict the narrator of error. + +It was a large dingy room, covered with a Turkey carpet, and +containing a dark polished mahogany dinner-table, on very heavy +carved legs, which an old messenger was preparing at two o’clock in +the day for the use of her Majesty’s Ministers. The table would have +been large enough for fourteen guests, and along the side further +from the fire, there were placed some six heavy chairs, good +comfortable chairs, stuffed at the back as well as the seat,--but on +the side nearer to the fire the chairs were placed irregularly; and +there were four armchairs,--two on one side and two on the other. +There were four windows to the room, which looked on to St. James’s +Park, and the curtains of the windows were dark and heavy,--as became +the gravity of the purposes to which that chamber was appropriated. +In old days it had been the dining-room of one Prime Minister after +another. To Pitt it had been the abode of his own familiar prandial +Penates, and Lord Liverpool had been dull there among his dull +friends for long year after year. The Ministers of the present day +find it more convenient to live in private homes, and, indeed, not +unfrequently carry their Cabinets with them. But, under Mr. Mildmay’s +rule, the meetings were generally held in the old room at the +official residence. Thrice did the aged messenger move each armchair, +now a little this way and now a little that, and then look at them as +though something of the tendency of the coming meeting might depend +on the comfort of its leading members. If Mr. Mildmay should find +himself to be quite comfortable, so that he could hear what was said +without a struggle to his ear, and see his colleagues’ faces clearly, +and feel the fire without burning his shins, it might be possible +that he would not insist upon resigning. If this were so, how +important was the work now confided to the hands of that aged +messenger! When his anxious eyes had glanced round the room some +half a dozen times, when he had touched each curtain, laid his +hand upon every chair, and dusted certain papers which lay upon a +side-table,--and which had been lying there for two years, and at +which no one ever looked or would look,--he gently crept away and +ensconced himself in an easy chair not far from the door of the +chamber. For it might be necessary to stop the attempt of a rash +intruder on those secret counsels. + +Very shortly there was heard the ring of various voices in the +passages,--the voices of men speaking pleasantly, the voices of men +with whom it seemed, from their tone, that things were doing well +in the world. And then a cluster of four or five gentlemen entered +the room. At first sight they seemed to be as ordinary gentlemen as +you shall meet anywhere about Pall Mall on an afternoon. There was +nothing about their outward appearance of the august wiggery of +statecraft, nothing of the ponderous dignity of ministerial position. +That little man in the square-cut coat,--we may almost call it a +shooting-coat,--swinging an umbrella and wearing no gloves, is no +less a person than the Lord Chancellor,--Lord Weazeling,--who made +a hundred thousand pounds as Attorney-General, and is supposed +to be the best lawyer of his age. He is fifty, but he looks to +be hardly over forty, and one might take him to be, from his +appearance,--perhaps a clerk in the War Office, well-to-do, and +popular among his brother-clerks. Immediately with him is Sir Harry +Coldfoot, also a lawyer by profession, though he has never practised. +He has been in the House for nearly thirty years, and is now at the +Home Office. He is a stout, healthy, grey-haired gentleman, who +certainly does not wear the cares of office on his face. Perhaps, +however, no minister gets more bullied than he by the press, and men +say that he will be very willing to give up to some political enemy +the control of the police, and the onerous duty of judging in all +criminal appeals. Behind these come our friend Mr. Monk, young Lord +Cantrip from the colonies next door, than whom no smarter young peer +now does honour to our hereditary legislature, and Sir Marmaduke +Morecombe, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. Why Sir +Marmaduke has always been placed in Mr. Mildmay’s Cabinets nobody +ever knew. As Chancellor of the Duchy he has nothing to do,--and were +there anything, he would not do it. He rarely speaks in the House, +and then does not speak well. He is a handsome man, or would be but +for an assumption of grandeur in the carriage of his eyes, giving to +his face a character of pomposity which he himself well deserves. He +was in the Guards when young, and has been in Parliament since he +ceased to be young. It must be supposed that Mr. Mildmay has found +something in him, for he has been included in three successive +liberal Cabinets. He has probably the virtue of being true to Mr. +Mildmay, and of being duly submissive to one whom he recognises as +his superior. + +Within two minutes afterwards the Duke followed, with Plantagenet +Palliser. The Duke, as all the world knows, was the Duke of St. +Bungay, the very front and head of the aristocratic old Whigs of the +country,--a man who has been thrice spoken of as Prime Minister, and +who really might have filled the office had he not known himself to +be unfit for it. The Duke has been consulted as to the making of +Cabinets for the last five-and-thirty years, and is even now not an +old man in appearance;--a fussy, popular, clever, conscientious man, +whose digestion has been too good to make politics a burden to him, +but who has thought seriously about his country, and is one who will +be sure to leave memoirs behind him. He was born in the semi-purple +of ministerial influences, and men say of him that he is honester +than his uncle, who was Canning’s friend, but not so great a man as +his grandfather, with whom Fox once quarrelled, and whom Burke loved. +Plantagenet Palliser, himself the heir to a dukedom, was the young +Chancellor of the Exchequer, of whom some statesmen thought much as +the rising star of the age. If industry, rectitude of purpose, and +a certain clearness of intellect may prevail, Planty Pall, as he is +familiarly called, may become a great Minister. + +Then came Viscount Thrift by himself;--the First Lord of the +Admiralty, with the whole weight of a new iron-clad fleet upon his +shoulders. He has undertaken the Herculean task of cleansing the +dockyards,--and with it the lesser work of keeping afloat a navy that +may be esteemed by his countrymen to be the best in the world. And he +thinks that he will do both, if only Mr. Mildmay will not resign;--an +industrious, honest, self-denying nobleman, who works without ceasing +from morn to night, and who hopes to rise in time to high things,--to +the translating of Homer, perhaps, and the wearing of the Garter. + +Close behind him there was a ruck of Ministers, with the +much-honoured grey-haired old Premier in the midst of them. There was +Mr. Gresham, the Foreign Minister, said to be the greatest orator +in Europe, on whose shoulders it was thought that the mantle of Mr. +Mildmay would fall,--to be worn, however, quite otherwise than Mr. +Mildmay had worn it. For Mr. Gresham is a man with no feelings +for the past, void of historical association, hardly with +memories,--living altogether for the future which he is anxious to +fashion anew out of the vigour of his own brain. Whereas, with Mr. +Mildmay, even his love of reform is an inherited passion for an +old-world Liberalism. And there was with them Mr. Legge Wilson, the +brother of a peer, Secretary at War, a great scholar and a polished +gentleman, very proud of his position as a Cabinet Minister, but +conscious that he has hardly earned it by political work. And Lord +Plinlimmon is with them, the Comptroller of India,--of all working +lords the most jaunty, the most pleasant, and the most popular, very +good at taking chairs at dinners, and making becoming speeches at the +shortest notice, a man apparently very free and open in his ways of +life,--but cautious enough in truth as to every step, knowing well +how hard it is to climb and how easy to fall. Mr. Mildmay entered +the room leaning on Lord Plinlimmon’s arm, and when he made his way +up among the armchairs upon the rug before the fire, the others +clustered around him with cheering looks and kindly questions. Then +came the Privy Seal, our old friend Lord Brentford, last,--and +I would say least, but that the words of no councillor could go +for less in such an assemblage than will those of Sir Marmaduke +Morecombe, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. + +Mr. Mildmay was soon seated in one of the armchairs, while Lord +Plinlimmon leaned against the table close at his elbow. Mr. Gresham +stood upright at the corner of the chimney-piece furthest from Mr. +Mildmay, and Mr. Palliser at that nearest to him. The Duke took the +armchair close at Mr. Mildmay’s left hand. Lord Plinlimmon was, as I +have said, leaning against the table, but the Lord Chancellor, who +was next to him, sat upon it. Viscount Thrift and Mr. Monk occupied +chairs on the further side of the table, near to Mr. Mildmay’s end, +and Mr. Legge Wilson placed himself at the head of the table, thus +joining them as it were into a body. The Home Secretary stood before +the Lord Chancellor screening him from the fire, and the Chancellor +of the Duchy, after waiting for a few minutes as though in doubt, +took one of the vacant armchairs. The young lord from the Colonies +stood a little behind the shoulders of his great friend from the +Foreign Office; and the Privy Seal, after moving about for a while +uneasily, took a chair behind the Chancellor of the Duchy. One +armchair was thus left vacant, but there was no other comer. + +“It is not so bad as I thought it would be,” said the Duke, speaking +aloud, but nevertheless addressing himself specially to his chief. + +“It was bad enough,” said Mr. Mildmay, laughing. + +“Bad enough indeed,” said Sir Marmaduke Morecombe, without any +laughter. + +“And such a good bill lost,” said Lord Plinlimmon. “The worst of +these failures is, that the same identical bill can never be brought +in again.” + +“So that if the lost bill was best, the bill that will not be lost +can only be second best,” said the Lord Chancellor. + +“I certainly did think that after the debate before Easter we should +not have come to shipwreck about the ballot,” said Mr. Mildmay. + +“It was brewing for us all along,” said Mr. Gresham, who then with a +gesture of his hand and a pressure of his lips withheld words which +he was nearly uttering, and which would not, probably, have been +complimentary to Mr. Turnbull. As it was, he turned half round and +said something to Lord Cantrip which was not audible to any one else +in the room. It was worthy of note, however, that Mr. Turnbull’s name +was not once mentioned aloud at that meeting. + +“I am afraid it was brewing all along,” said Sir Marmaduke Morecombe +gravely. + +“Well, gentlemen, we must take it as we get it,” said Mr. Mildmay, +still smiling. “And now we must consider what we shall do at once.” +Then he paused as though expecting that counsel would come to him +first from one colleague and then from another. But no such counsel +came, and probably Mr. Mildmay did not in the least expect that it +would come. + +“We cannot stay where we are, of course,” said the Duke. The Duke was +privileged to say as much as that. But though every man in the room +knew that it must be so, no one but the Duke would have said it, +before Mr. Mildmay had spoken plainly himself. + +“No,” said Mr. Mildmay; “I suppose that we can hardly stay where we +are. Probably none of us wish it, gentlemen.” Then he looked round +upon his colleagues, and there came a sort of an assent, though there +were no spoken words. The sound from Sir Marmaduke Morecombe was +louder than that from the others;--but yet from him it was no more +than an attesting grunt. “We have two things to consider,” continued +Mr. Mildmay,--and though he spoke in a very low voice, every word was +heard by all present,--“two things chiefly, that is; the work of the +country and the Queen’s comfort. I propose to see her Majesty this +afternoon at five,--that is, in something less than two hours’ time, +and I hope to be able to tell the House by seven what has taken place +between her Majesty and me. My friend, his Grace, will do as much in +the House of Lords. If you agree with me, gentlemen, I will explain +to the Queen that it is not for the welfare of the country that we +should retain our places, and I will place your resignations and my +own in her Majesty’s hands.” + +“You will advise her Majesty to send for Lord de Terrier,” said Mr. +Gresham. + +“Certainly;--there will be no other course open to me.” + +“Or to her,” said Mr. Gresham. To this remark from the rising +Minister of the day, no word of reply was made; but of those present +in the room three or four of the most experienced servants of the +Crown felt that Mr. Gresham had been imprudent. The Duke, who had. +ever been afraid of Mr. Gresham, told Mr. Palliser afterwards that +such an observation should not have been made; and Sir Harry Coldfoot +pondered upon it uneasily, and Sir Marmaduke Morecombe asked Mr. +Mildmay what he thought about it. “Times change so much, and with the +times the feelings of men,” said Mr. Mildmay. But I doubt whether Sir +Marmaduke quite understood him. + +There was silence in the room for a moment or two after Mr. Gresham +had spoken, and then Mr. Mildmay again addressed his friends. “Of +course it may be possible that my Lord de Terrier may foresee +difficulties, or may find difficulties which will oblige him, either +at once, or after an attempt has been made, to decline the task which +her Majesty will probably commit to him. All of us, no doubt, know +that the arrangement of a government is not the most easy task in +the world; and that it is not made the more easy by an absence of a +majority in the House of Commons.” + +“He would dissolve, I presume,” said the Duke. + +“I should say so,” continued Mr. Mildmay. “But it may not improbably +come to pass that her Majesty will feel herself obliged to send again +for some one or two of us, that we may tender to her Majesty the +advice which we owe to her;--for me, for instance, or for my friend +the Duke. In such a matter she would be much guided probably by what +Lord de Terrier might have suggested to her. Should this be so, and +should I be consulted, my present feeling is that we should resume +our offices so that the necessary business of the session should be +completed, and that we should then dissolve Parliament, and thus +ascertain the opinion of the country. In such case, however, we +should of course meet again.” + +“I quite think that the course proposed by Mr. Mildmay will be the +best,” said the Duke, who had no doubt already discussed the matter +with his friend the Prime Minister in private. No one else said a +word either of argument or disagreement, and the Cabinet Council was +broken up. The old messenger, who had been asleep in his chair, stood +up and bowed as the Ministers walked by him, and then went in and +rearranged the chairs. + +“He has as much idea of giving up as you or I have,” said Lord +Cantrip to his friend Mr. Gresham, as they walked arm-in-arm together +from the Treasury Chambers across St. James’s Park towards the clubs. + +“I am not sure that he is not right,” said Mr. Gresham. + +“Do you mean for himself or for the country?” asked Lord Cantrip. + +“For his future fame. They who have abdicated and have clung to their +abdication have always lost by it. Cincinnatus was brought back +again, and Charles V. is felt to have been foolish. The peaches of +retired ministers of which we hear so often have generally been +cultivated in a constrained seclusion;--or at least the world so +believes.” They were talking probably of Mr. Mildmay, as to whom some +of his colleagues had thought it probable, knowing that he would now +resign, that he would have to-day declared his intention of laying +aside for ever the cares of office. + +Mr. Monk walked home alone, and as he went there was something of +a feeling of disappointment at heart, which made him ask himself +whether Mr. Turnbull might not have been right in rebuking him for +joining the Government. But this, I think, was in no way due to Mr. +Mildmay’s resignation, but rather to a conviction on Mr. Monk’s part +that that he had contributed but little to his country’s welfare by +sitting in Mr. Mildmay’s Cabinet. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Mr. Kennedy’s Luck + + +After the holding of that Cabinet Council of which the author has +dared to attempt a slight sketch in the last chapter, there were +various visits made to the Queen, first by Mr. Mildmay, and then by +Lord de Terrier, afterwards by Mr. Mildmay and the Duke together, and +then again by Lord de Terrier; and there were various explanations +made to Parliament in each House, and rivals were very courteous to +each other, promising assistance;--and at the end of it the old men +held their seats. The only change made was effected by the retirement +of Sir Marmaduke Morecombe, who was raised to the peerage, and by +the selection of--Mr. Kennedy to fill his place in the Cabinet. Mr. +Kennedy during the late debate had made one of those speeches, few +and far between, by which he had created for himself a Parliamentary +reputation; but, nevertheless, all men expressed their great +surprise, and no one could quite understand why Mr. Kennedy had been +made a Cabinet Minister. + +“It is impossible to say whether he is pleased or not,” said Lady +Laura, speaking of him to Phineas. “I am pleased, of course.” + +“His ambition must be gratified,” said Phineas. + +“It would be, if he had any,” said Lady Laura. + +“I do not believe in a man lacking ambition.” + +“It is hard to say. There are men who by no means wear their hearts +upon their sleeves, and my husband is one of them. He told me that it +would be unbecoming in him to refuse, and that was all he said to me +about it.” + +The old men held their seats, but they did so as it were only upon +further trial. Mr. Mildmay took the course which he had indicated to +his colleagues at the Cabinet meeting. Before all the explanations +and journeyings were completed, April was over, and the much-needed +Whitsuntide holidays were coming on. But little of the routine work +of the session had been done; and, as Mr. Mildmay told the House +more than once, the country would suffer were the Queen to dissolve +Parliament at this period of the year. The old Ministers would go on +with the business of the country, Lord de Terrier with his followers +having declined to take affairs into their hands; and at the close of +the session, which should be made as short as possible, writs should +be issued for new elections. This was Mr. Mildmay’s programme, and it +was one of which no one dared to complain very loudly. + +Mr. Turnbull, indeed, did speak a word of caution. He told Mr. +Mildmay that he had lost his bill, good in other respects, because he +had refused to introduce the ballot into his measure. Let him promise +to be wiser for the future, and to obey the manifested wishes of the +country, and then all would be well with him. In answer to this, +Mr. Mildmay declared that to the best of his power of reading the +country, his countrymen had manifested no such wish; and that if they +did so, if by the fresh election it should be shown that the ballot +was in truth desired, he would at once leave the execution of their +wishes to abler and younger hands. Mr. Turnbull expressed himself +perfectly satisfied with the Minister’s answers, and said that the +coming election would show whether he or Mr. Mildmay were right. + +Many men, and among them some of his colleagues, thought that Mr. +Mildmay had been imprudent. “No man ought ever to pledge himself +to anything,” said Sir Harry Coldfoot to the Duke;--“that is, to +anything unnecessary.” The Duke, who was very true to Mr. Mildmay, +made no reply to this, but even he thought that his old friend +had been betrayed into a promise too rapidly. But the pledge was +given, and some people already began to make much of it. There +appeared leader after leader in the _People’s Banner_ urging the +constituencies to take advantage of the Prime Minister’s words, and +to show clearly at the hustings that they desired the ballot. “You +had better come over to us, Mr. Finn; you had indeed,” said Mr. +Slide. “Now’s the time to do it, and show yourself a people’s friend. +You’ll have to do it sooner or later,--whether or no. Come to us and +we’ll be your horgan.” + +But in those days Phineas was something less in love with Mr. Quintus +Slide than he had been at the time of the great debate, for he was +becoming more and more closely connected with people who in their +ways of living and modes of expression were very unlike Mr. Slide. +This advice was given to him about the end of May, and at that +time Lord Chiltern was living with him in the lodgings in Great +Marlborough Street. Miss Pouncefoot had temporarily vacated her +rooms on the first floor, and the Lord with the broken bones had +condescended to occupy them. “I don’t know that I like having a +Lord,” Bunce had said to his wife. “It’ll soon come to you not liking +anybody decent anywhere,” Mrs. Bunce had replied; “but I shan’t ask +any questions about it. When you’re wasting so much time and money +at your dirty law proceedings, it’s well that somebody should earn +something at home.” + +There had been many discussions about the bringing of Lord Chiltern +up to London, in all of which Phineas had been concerned. Lord +Brentford had thought that his son had better remain down at the +Willingford Bull; and although he said that the rooms were at his +son’s disposal should Lord Chiltern choose to come to London, still +he said it in such a way that Phineas, who went down to Willingford, +could not tell his friend that he would be made welcome in Portman +Square. “I think I shall leave those diggings altogether,” Lord +Chiltern said to him. “My father annoys me by everything he says and +does, and I annoy him by saying and doing nothing.” Then there came +an invitation to him from Lady Laura and Mr. Kennedy. Would he come +to Grosvenor Place? Lady Laura pressed this very much, though in +truth Mr. Kennedy had hardly done more than give a cold assent. But +Lord Chiltern would not hear of it. “There is some reason for my +going to my father’s house,” said he, “though he and I are not the +best friends in the world; but there can be no reason for my going +to the house of a man I dislike so much as I do Robert Kennedy.” The +matter was settled in the manner told above. Miss Pouncefoot’s rooms +were prepared for him at Mr. Bunce’s house, and Phineas Finn went +down to Willingford and brought him up. “I’ve sold Bonebreaker,” he +said,--“to a young fellow whose neck will certainly be the sacrifice +if he attempts to ride him. I’d have given him to you, Phineas, only +you wouldn’t have known what to do with him.” + +Lord Chiltern when he came up to London was still in bandages, +though, as the surgeon said, his bones seemed to have been made to be +broken and set again; and his bandages of course were a sufficient +excuse for his visiting the house neither of his father nor his +brother-in-law. But Lady Laura went to him frequently, and thus +became acquainted with our hero’s home and with Mrs. Bunce. And there +were messages taken from Violet to the man in bandages, some of which +lost nothing in the carrying. Once Lady Laura tried to make Violet +think that it would be right, or rather not wrong, that they two +should go together to Lord Chiltern’s rooms. + +“And would you have me tell my aunt, or would you have me not tell +her?” Violet asked. + +“I would have you do just as you pleased,” Lady Laura answered. + +“So I shall,” Violet replied, “but I will do nothing that I should be +ashamed to tell any one. Your brother professes to be in love with +me.” + +“He is in love with you,” said Lady Laura. “Even you do not pretend +to doubt his faith.” + +“Very well. In those circumstances a girl should not go to a man’s +rooms unless she means to consider herself as engaged to him, even +with his sister;--not though he had broken every bone in his skin. I +know what I may do, Laura, and I know what I mayn’t; and I won’t be +led either by you or by my aunt.” + +“May I give him your love?” + +“No;--because you’ll give it in a wrong spirit. He knows well enough +that I wish him well;--but you may tell him that from me, if you +please. He has from me all those wishes which one friend owes to +another.” + +But there were other messages sent from Violet through Phineas Finn +which she worded with more show of affection,--perhaps as much for +the discomfort of Phineas as for the consolation of Lord Chiltern. +“Tell him to take care of himself,” said Violet, “and bid him not to +have any more of those wild brutes that are not fit for any Christian +to ride. Tell him that I say so. It’s a great thing to be brave; but +what’s the use of being foolhardy?” + +The session was to be closed at the end of June, to the great dismay +of London tradesmen and of young ladies who had not been entirely +successful in the early season. But before the old Parliament was +closed, and the writs for the new election were despatched, there +occurred an incident which was of very much importance to Phineas +Finn. Near the end of June, when the remaining days of the session +were numbered by three or four, he had been dining at Lord +Brentford’s house in Portman Square in company with Mr. Kennedy. But +Lady Laura had not been there. At this time he saw Lord Brentford not +unfrequently, and there was always a word said about Lord Chiltern. +The father would ask how the son occupied himself, and Phineas would +hope,--though hitherto he had hoped in vain,--that he would induce +the Earl to come and see Lord Chiltern. Lord Brentford could never be +brought to that; but it was sufficiently evident that he would have +done so, had he not been afraid to descend so far from the altitude +of his paternal wrath. On this evening, at about eleven, Mr. Kennedy +and Phineas left the house together, and walked from the Square +through Orchard Street into Oxford Street. Here their ways parted, +but Phineas crossed the road with Mr. Kennedy, as he was making some +reply to a second invitation to Loughlinter. Phineas, considering +what had been said before on the subject, thought that the invitation +came late, and that it was not warmly worded. He had, therefore, +declined it, and was in the act of declining it, when he crossed the +road with Mr. Kennedy. In walking down Orchard Street from the Square +he had seen two men standing in the shadow a few yards up a mews or +small alley that was there, but had thought nothing of them. It was +just that period of the year when there is hardly any of the darkness +of night; but at this moment there were symptoms of coming rain, and +heavy drops began to fall; and there were big clouds coming and going +before the young moon. Mr. Kennedy had said that he would get a cab, +but he had seen none as he crossed Oxford Street, and had put up his +umbrella as he made his way towards Park Street. Phineas as he left +him distinctly perceived the same two figures on the other side of +Oxford Street, and then turning into the shadow of a butcher’s porch, +he saw them cross the street in the wake of Mr. Kennedy. It was now +raining in earnest, and the few passengers who were out were scudding +away quickly, this way and that. + +It hardly occurred to Phineas to think that any danger was imminent +to Mr. Kennedy from the men, but it did occur to him that he might as +well take some notice of the matter. Phineas knew that Mr. Kennedy +would make his way down Park Street, that being his usual route from +Portman Square towards his own home, and knew also that he himself +could again come across Mr. Kennedy’s track by going down North +Audley Street to the corner of Grosvenor Square, and thence by Brook +Street into Park Street. Without much thought, therefore, he went +out of his own course down to the corner of the Square, hurrying his +steps till he was running, and then ran along Brook Street, thinking +as he went of some special word that he might say to Mr. Kennedy as +an excuse, should he again come across his late companion. He reached +the corner of Park Street before that gentleman could have been there +unless he also had run; but just in time to see him as he was coming +on,--and also to see in the dark glimmering of the slight uncertain +moonlight that the two men were behind him. He retreated a step +backwards in the corner, resolving that when Mr. Kennedy came up, +they two would go on together; for now it was clear that Mr. Kennedy +was followed. But Mr. Kennedy did not reach the corner. When he was +within two doors of it, one of the men had followed him up quickly, +and had thrown something round his throat from behind him. Phineas +understood well now that his friend was in the act of being +garrotted, and that his instant assistance was needed. He rushed +forward, and as the second ruffian had been close upon the footsteps +of the first, there was almost instantaneously a concourse of the +four men. But there was no fight. The man who had already nearly +succeeded in putting Mr. Kennedy on to his back, made no attempt to +seize his prey when he found that so unwelcome an addition had joined +the party, but instantly turned to fly. His companion was turning +also, but Phineas was too quick for him, and having seized on to his +collar, held to him with all his power. “Dash it all,” said the man, +“didn’t yer see as how I was a-hurrying up to help the gen’leman +myself?” Phineas, however, hadn’t seen this, and held on gallantly, +and in a couple of minutes the first ruffian was back again upon the +spot in the custody of a policeman. “You’ve done it uncommon neat, +sir,” said the policeman, complimenting Phineas upon his performance. +“If the gen’leman ain’t none the worst for it, it’ll have been a very +pretty evening’s amusement.” Mr. Kennedy was now leaning against the +railings, and hitherto had been unable to declare whether he was +really injured or not, and it was not till a second policeman came up +that the hero of the night was at liberty to attend closely to his +friend. + +Mr. Kennedy, when he was able to speak, declared that for a minute +or two he had thought that his neck had been broken; and he was not +quite convinced till he found himself in his own house, that nothing +more serious had really happened to him than certain bruises round +his throat. The policeman was for a while anxious that at any +rate Phineas should go with him to the police-office; but at last +consented to take the addresses of the two gentlemen. When he +found that Mr. Kennedy was a member of Parliament, and that he was +designated as Right Honourable, his respect for the garrotter became +more great, and he began to feel that the night was indeed a night +of great importance. He expressed unbounded admiration at Mr. Finn’s +success in his own line, and made repeated promises that the men +should be forthcoming on the morrow. Could a cab be got? Of course a +cab could be got. A cab was got, and within a quarter of an hour of +the making of the attack, the two members of Parliament were on their +way to Grosvenor Place. + +There was hardly a word spoken in the cab, for Mr. Kennedy was in +pain. When, however, they reached the door in Grosvenor Place, +Phineas wanted to go, and leave his friend with the servants, but +this the Cabinet Minister would not allow. “Of course you must see +my wife,” he said. So they went up-stairs into the drawing-room, +and then upon the stairs, by the lights of the house, Phineas could +perceive that his companion’s face was bruised and black with dirt, +and that his cravat was gone. + +“I have been garrotted,” said the Cabinet Minister to his wife. + +“What?” + +“Simply that;--or should have been, if he had not been there. How he +came there, God only knows.” + +The wife’s anxiety, and then her gratitude, need hardly be +described,--nor the astonishment of the husband, which by no means +decreased on reflection, at the opportune re-appearance in the nick +of time of the man whom three minutes before the attack he had left +in the act of going in the opposite direction. + +“I had seen the men, and thought it best to run round by the corner +of Grosvenor Square,” said Phineas. + +“May God bless you,” said Lady Laura. + +“Amen,” said the Cabinet Minister. + +“I think he was born to be my friend,” said Lady Laura. + +The Cabinet Minister said nothing more that night. He was never given +to much talking, and the little accident which had just occurred to +him did not tend to make words easy to him. But he pressed our hero’s +hand, and Lady Laura said that of course Phineas would come to them +on the morrow. Phineas remarked that his first business must be to +go to the police-office, but he promised that he would come down to +Grosvenor Place immediately afterwards. Then Lady Laura also pressed +his hand, and looked--; she looked, I think, as though she thought +that Phineas would only have done right had he repeated the offence +which he had committed under the waterfall of Loughlinter. + +“Garrotted!” said Lord Chiltern, when Phineas told him the story +before they went to bed that night. He had been smoking, sipping +brandy-and-water, and waiting for Finn’s return. “Robert Kennedy +garrotted!” + +“The fellow was in the act of doing it.” + +“And you stopped him?” + +“Yes;--I got there just in time. Wasn’t it lucky?” + +“You ought to be garrotted yourself. I should have lent the man a +hand had I been there.” + +“How can you say anything so horrible? But you are drinking too much, +old fellow, and I shall lock the bottle up.” + +“If there were no one in London drank more than I do, the wine +merchants would have a bad time of it. And so the new Cabinet +Minister has been garrotted in the street. Of course I’m sorry for +poor Laura’s sake.” + +“Luckily he’s not much the worse for it;--only a little bruised.” + +“I wonder whether it’s on the cards he should be improved by +it;--worse, except in the way of being strangled, he could not be. +However, as he’s my brother-in-law, I’m obliged to you for rescuing +him. Come, I’ll go to bed. I must say, if he was to be garrotted I +should like to have been there to see it.” That was the manner in +which Lord Chiltern received the tidings of the terrible accident +which had occurred to his near relative. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Finn for Loughton + + +By three o’clock in the day after the little accident which was told +in the last chapter, all the world knew that Mr. Kennedy, the new +Cabinet Minister, had been garrotted, or half garrotted, and that +that child of fortune, Phineas Finn, had dropped upon the scene out +of heaven at the exact moment of time, had taken the two garrotters +prisoners, and saved the Cabinet Minister’s neck and valuables,--if +not his life. “Bedad,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon, when he came to hear +this, “that fellow’ll marry an heiress, and be Secretary for Oireland +yet.” A good deal was said about it to Phineas at the clubs, but a +word or two that was said to him by Violet Effingham was worth all +the rest. “Why, what a Paladin you are! But you succour men in +distress instead of maidens.” “That’s my bad luck,” said Phineas. +“The other will come no doubt in time,” Violet replied; “and then +you’ll get your reward.” He knew that such words from a girl mean +nothing,--especially from such a girl as Violet Effingham; but +nevertheless they were very pleasant to him. + +“Of course you will come to us at Loughlinter when Parliament is up?” +Lady Laura said the same day. + +“I don’t know really. You see I must go over to Ireland about my +re-election.” + +“What has that to do with it? You are only making out excuses. We +go down on the first of July, and the English elections won’t begin +till the middle of the month. It will be August before the men of +Loughshane are ready for you.” + +“To tell you the truth, Lady Laura,” said Phineas, “I doubt whether +the men of Loughshane,--or rather the man of Loughshane, will have +anything more to say to me.” + +“What man do you mean?” + +“Lord Tulla. He was in a passion with his brother before, and I got +the advantage of it. Since that he has paid his brother’s debts for +the fifteenth time, and of course is ready to fight any battle for +the forgiven prodigal. Things are not as they were, and my father +tells me that he thinks I shall be beaten.” + +“That is bad news.” + +“It is what I have a right to expect.” + +Every word of information that had come to Phineas about Loughshane +since Mr. Mildmay had decided upon a dissolution, had gone towards +making him feel at first that there was a great doubt as to his +re-election, and at last that there was almost a certainty against +him. And as these tidings reached him they made him very unhappy. +Since he had been in Parliament he had very frequently regretted +that he had left the shades of the Inns of Court for the glare of +Westminster; and he had more than once made up his mind that he would +desert the glare and return to the shade. But now, when the moment +came in which such desertion seemed to be compulsory on him, when +there would be no longer a choice, the seat in Parliament was dearer +to him than ever. If he had gone of his own free will,--so he told +himself,--there would have been something of nobility in such going. +Mr. Low would have respected him, and even Mrs. Low might have taken +him back to the friendship of her severe bosom. But he would go back +now as a cur with his tail between his legs,--kicked out, as it were, +from Parliament. Returning to Lincoln’s Inn soiled with failure, +having accomplished nothing, having broken down on the only occasion +on which he had dared to show himself on his legs, not having opened +a single useful book during the two years in which he had sat in +Parliament, burdened with Laurence Fitzgibbon’s debt, and not quite +free from debt of his own, how could he start himself in any way by +which he might even hope to win success? He must, he told himself, +give up all thought of practising in London and betake himself to +Dublin. He could not dare to face his friends in London as a young +briefless barrister. + +On this evening, the evening subsequent to that on which Mr. Kennedy +had been attacked, the House was sitting in Committee of Ways and +Means, and there came on a discussion as to a certain vote for the +army. It had been known that there would be such discussion; and Mr. +Monk having heard from Phineas a word or two now and again about the +potted peas, had recommended him to be ready with a few remarks if he +wished to support the Government in the matter of that vote. Phineas +did so wish, having learned quite enough in the Committee Room +up-stairs to make him believe that a large importation of the +potted peas from Holstein would not be for the advantage of the +army or navy,--or for that of the country at large. Mr. Monk had +made his suggestion without the slightest allusion to the former +failure,--just as though Phineas were a practised speaker accustomed +to be on his legs three or four times a week. “If I find a chance, I +will,” said Phineas, taking the advice just as it was given. + +Soon after prayers, a word was said in the House as to the +ill-fortune which had befallen the new Cabinet Minister. Mr. Daubeny +had asked Mr. Mildmay whether violent hands had not been laid in the +dead of night on the sacred throat,--the throat that should have been +sacred,--of the new Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster; and had +expressed regret that the Ministry,--which was, he feared, in other +respects somewhat infirm,--should now have been further weakened by +this injury to that new bulwark with which it had endeavoured to +support itself. The Prime Minister, answering his old rival in the +same strain, said that the calamity might have been very severe, +both to the country and to the Cabinet; but that fortunately for the +community at large, a gallant young member of that House,--and he was +proud to say a supporter of the Government,--had appeared upon the +spot at the nick of time;--“As a god out of a machine,” said Mr. +Daubeny, interrupting him;--“By no means as a god out of a machine,” +continued Mr. Mildmay, “but as a real help in a very real trouble, +and succeeded not only in saving my right honourable friend, the +Chancellor of the Duchy, but in arresting the two malefactors who +attempted to rob him in the street.” Then there was a cry of “name;” +and Mr. Mildmay of course named the member for Loughshane. It so +happened that Phineas was not in the House, but he heard it all when +he came down to attend the Committee of Ways and Means. + +Then came on the discussion about provisions in the army, the subject +being mooted by one of Mr. Turnbull’s close allies. The gentleman +on the other side of the House who had moved for the Potted Peas +Committee, was silent on the occasion, having felt that the result +of that committee had not been exactly what he had expected. The +evidence respecting such of the Holstein potted peas as had been used +in this country was not very favourable to them. But, nevertheless, +the rebound from that committee,--the very fact that such a committee +had been made to sit,--gave ground for a hostile attack. To attack +is so easy, when a complete refutation barely suffices to save the +Minister attacked,--does not suffice to save him from future dim +memories of something having been wrong,--and brings down no disgrace +whatsoever on the promoter of the false charge. The promoter of the +false charge simply expresses his gratification at finding that he +had been misled by erroneous information. It is not customary for him +to express gratification at the fact, that out of all the mud which +he has thrown, some will probably stick! Phineas, when the time came, +did get on his legs, and spoke perhaps two or three dozen words. The +doing so seemed to come to him quite naturally. He had thought very +little about it beforehand,--having resolved not to think of it. And +indeed the occasion was one of no great importance. The Speaker was +not in the chair, and the House was thin, and he intended to make no +speech,--merely to say something which he had to say. Till he had +finished he hardly remembered that he was doing that, in attempting +to do which he had before failed so egregiously. It was not till he +sat down that he began to ask himself whether the scene was swimming +before his eyes as it had done on former occasions; as it had done +even when he had so much as thought of making a speech. Now he was +astonished at the easiness of the thing, and as he left the House +told himself that he had overcome the difficulty just when the +victory could be of no avail to him. Had he been more eager, more +constant in his purpose, he might at any rate have shown the world +that he was fit for the place which he had presumed to take before +he was cast out of it. + +On the next morning he received a letter from his father. Dr. Finn +had seen Lord Tulla, having been sent for to relieve his lordship in +a fit of the gout, and had been informed by the Earl that he meant to +fight the borough to the last man;--had he said to the last shilling +he would have spoken with perhaps more accuracy. “You see, doctor, +your son has had it for two years, as you may say for nothing, and I +think he ought to give way. He can’t expect that he’s to go on there +as though it were his own.” And then his lordship, upon whom this +touch of the gout had come somewhat sharply, expressed himself with +considerable animation. The old doctor behaved with much spirit. “I +told the Earl,” he said, “that I could not undertake to say what you +might do; but that as you had come forward at first with my sanction, +I could not withdraw it now. He asked me if I should support you with +money; I said that I should to a moderate extent. ‘By G----,’ said +the Earl, ‘a moderate extent will go a very little way, I can tell +you.’ Since that he has had Duggin with him; so, I suppose, I shall +not see him any more. You can do as you please now; but, from what I +hear, I fear you will have no chance.” Then with much bitterness of +spirit Phineas resolved that he would not interfere with Lord Tulla +at Loughshane. He would go at once to the Reform Club and explain his +reasons to Barrington Erle and others there who would be interested. + +But he first went to Grosvenor Place. Here he was shown up into Mr. +Kennedy’s room. Mr. Kennedy was up and seated in an arm-chair by an +open window looking over into the Queen’s garden; but he was in his +dressing-gown, and was to be regarded as an invalid. And indeed as he +could not turn his neck, or thought that he could not do so, he was +not very fit to go out about his work. Let us hope that the affairs +of the Duchy of Lancaster did not suffer materially by his absence. +We may take it for granted that with a man so sedulous as to all his +duties there was no arrear of work when the accident took place. He +put out his hand to Phineas, and said some word in a whisper,--some +word or two among which Phineas caught the sound of “potted +peas,”--and then continued to look out of the window. There are men +who are utterly prostrated by any bodily ailment, and it seemed that +Mr. Kennedy was one of them. Phineas, who was full of his own bad +news, had intended to tell his sad story at once. But he perceived +that the neck of the Chancellor of the Duchy was too stiff to allow +of his taking any interest in external matters, and so he refrained. +“What does the doctor say about it?” said Phineas, perceiving that +just for the present there could be only one possible subject for +remark. Mr. Kennedy was beginning to describe in a long whisper what +the doctor did think about it, when Lady Laura came into the room. + +Of course they began at first to talk about Mr. Kennedy. It would not +have been kind to him not to have done so. And Lady Laura made much +of the injury, as it behoves a wife to do in such circumstances for +the sake both of the sufferer and of the hero. She declared her +conviction that had Phineas been a moment later her husband’s neck +would have been irredeemably broken. + +“I don’t think they ever do kill the people,” said Phineas. “At any +rate they don’t mean to do so.” + +“I thought they did,” said Lady Laura. + +“I fancy not,” said Phineas, eager in the cause of truth. + +“I think this man was very clumsy,” whispered Mr. Kennedy. + +“Perhaps he was a beginner,” said Phineas, “and that may make a +difference. If so, I’m afraid we have interfered with his +education.” + +Then, by degrees, the conversation got away to other things, and Lady +Laura asked him after Loughshane. “I’ve made up my mind to give it +up,” said he, smiling as he spoke. + +“I was afraid there was but a bad chance,” said Lady Laura, smiling +also. + +“My father has behaved so well!” said Phineas. “He has written to say +he’ll find the money, if I determine to contest the borough. I mean +to write to him by to-night’s post to decline the offer. I have no +right to spend the money, and I shouldn’t succeed if I did spend it. +Of course it makes me a little down in the mouth.” And then he smiled +again. + +“I’ve got a plan of my own,” said Lady Laura. + +“What plan?” + +“Or rather it isn’t mine, but papa’s. Old Mr. Standish is going to +give up Loughton, and papa wants you to come and try your luck +there.” + +“Lady Laura!” + +“It isn’t quite a certainty, you know, but I suppose it’s as near a +certainty as anything left.” And this came from a strong Radical +Reformer! + +“Lady Laura, I couldn’t accept such a favour from your father.” Then +Mr. Kennedy nodded his head very slightly and whispered, “Yes, yes.” +“I couldn’t think of it,” said Phineas Finn. “I have no right to such +a favour.” + +“That is a matter entirely for papa’s consideration,” said Lady +Laura, with an affectation of solemnity in her voice. “I think it has +always been felt that any politician may accept such an offer as that +when it is made to him, but that no politician should ask for it. My +father feels that he has to do the best he can with his influence in +the borough, and therefore he comes to you.” + +“It isn’t that,” said Phineas, somewhat rudely. + +“Of course private feelings have their weight,” said Lady Laura. “It +is not probable that papa would have gone to a perfect stranger. And +perhaps, Mr. Finn, I may own that Mr. Kennedy and I would both be +very sorry that you should not be in the House, and that that feeling +on our part has had some weight with my father.” + +“Of course you’ll stand?” whispered Mr. Kennedy, still looking +straight out of the window, as though the slightest attempt to turn +his neck would be fraught with danger to himself and the Duchy. + +“Papa has desired me to ask you to call upon him,” said Lady Laura. +“I don’t suppose there is very much to be said, as each of you know +so well the other’s way of thinking. But you had better see him +to-day or to-morrow.” + +Of course Phineas was persuaded before he left Mr. Kennedy’s room. +Indeed, when he came to think of it, there appeared to him to be no +valid reason why he should not sit for Loughton. The favour was of +a kind that had prevailed from time out of mind in England, between +the most respectable of the great land magnates, and young rising +liberal politicians. Burke, Fox, and Canning had all been placed in +Parliament by similar influence. Of course he, Phineas Finn, desired +earnestly,--longed in his very heart of hearts,--to extinguish all +such Parliamentary influence, to root out for ever the last vestige +of close borough nominations; but while the thing remained it was +better that the thing should contribute to the liberal than to the +conservative strength of the House,--and if to the liberal, how was +this to be achieved but by the acceptance of such influence by some +liberal candidate? And if it were right that it should be accepted +by any liberal candidate,--then, why not by him? The logic of this +argument seemed to him to be perfect. He felt something like a +sting of reproach as he told himself that in truth this great offer +was made to him, not on account of the excellence of his politics, +but because he had been instrumental in saving Lord Brentford’s +son-in-law from the violence of garrotters. But he crushed these +qualms of conscience as being over-scrupulous, and, as he told +himself, not practical. You must take the world as you find it, +with a struggle to be something more honest than those around you. +Phineas, as he preached to himself this sermon, declared to himself +that they who attempted more than this flew too high in the clouds +to be of service to men and women upon earth. + +As he did not see Lord Brentford that day he postponed writing to his +father for twenty-four hours. On the following morning he found the +Earl at home in Portman Square, having first discussed the matter +fully with Lord Chiltern. “Do not scruple about me,” said Lord +Chiltern; “you are quite welcome to the borough for me.” + +“But if I did not stand, would you do so? There are so many reasons +which ought to induce you to accept a seat in Parliament!” + +“Whether that be true or not, Phineas, I shall not accept my father’s +interest at Loughton, unless it be offered to me in a way in which +it never will be offered. You know me well enough to be sure that I +shall not change my mind. Nor will he. And, therefore, you may go +down to Loughton with a pure conscience as far as I am concerned.” + +Phineas had his interview with the Earl, and in ten minutes +everything was settled. On his way to Portman Square there had come +across his mind the idea of a grand effort of friendship. What if he +could persuade the father so to conduct himself towards his son, that +the son should consent to be a member for the borough? And he did +say a word or two to this effect, setting forth that Lord Chiltern +would condescend to become a legislator, if only his father would +condescend to acknowledge his son’s fitness for such work without +any comments on the son’s past life. But the Earl simply waived the +subject away with his hand. He could be as obstinate as his son. Lady +Laura had been the Mercury between them on this subject, and Lady +Laura had failed. He would not now consent to employ another Mercury. +Very little,--hardly a word indeed,--was said between the Earl and +Phineas about politics. Phineas was to be the Saulsby candidate at +Loughton for the next election, and was to come to Saulsby with the +Kennedys from Loughlinter,--either with the Kennedys or somewhat in +advance of them. “I do not say that there will be no opposition,” +said the Earl, “but I expect none.” He was very courteous,--nay, +he was kind, feeling doubtless that his family owed a great debt +of gratitude to the young man with whom he was conversing; but, +nevertheless, there was not absent on his part a touch of that high +condescension which, perhaps, might be thought to become the Earl, +the Cabinet Minister, and the great borough patron. Phineas, who +was sensitive, felt this and winced. He had never quite liked Lord +Brentford, and could not bring himself to do so now in spite of the +kindness which the Earl was showing him. + +But he was very happy when he sat down to write to his father +from the club. His father had told him that the money should be +forthcoming for the election at Loughshane, if he resolved to stand, +but that the chance of success would be very slight,--indeed that, in +his opinion, there would be no chance of success. Nevertheless, his +father had evidently believed, when writing, that Phineas would not +abandon his seat without a useless and expensive contest. He now +thanked his father with many expressions of gratitude,--declared his +conviction that his father was right about Lord Tulla, and then, +in the most modest language that he could use, went on to say that +he had found another borough open to him in England. He was going +to stand for Loughton, with the assistance of Lord Brentford, and +thought that the election would probably not cost him above a couple +of hundred pounds at the outside. Then he wrote a very pretty note +to Lord Tulla, thanking him for his former kindness, and telling +the Irish Earl that it was not his intention to interfere with the +borough of Loughshane at the next election. + +A few days after this Phineas was very much surprised at a visit +that was made to him at his lodgings. Mr. Clarkson, after that +scene in the lobby of the House, called again in Great Marlborough +Street,--and was admitted. “You had better let him sit in your +armchair for half an hour or so,” Fitzgibbon had said; and Phineas +almost believed that it would be better. The man was a terrible +nuisance to him, and he was beginning to think that he had better +undertake to pay the debt by degrees. It was, he knew, quite on the +cards that Mr. Clarkson should have him arrested while at Saulsby. +Since that scene in the lobby Mr. Clarkson had been with him twice, +and there had been a preliminary conversation as to real payment. +Mr. Clarkson wanted a hundred pounds down, and another bill for two +hundred and twenty at three months’ date. “Think of my time and +trouble in coming here,” Mr. Clarkson had urged when Phineas had +objected to these terms. “Think of my time and trouble, and do be +punctual, Mr. Finn.” Phineas had offered him ten pounds a quarter, +the payments to be marked on the back of the bill, a tender which Mr. +Clarkson had not seemed to regard as strong evidence of punctuality. +He had not been angry, but had simply expressed his intention of +calling again,--giving Phineas to understand that business would +probably take him to the west of Ireland in the autumn. If only +business might not take him down either to Loughlinter or to Saulsby! +But the strange visitor who came to Phineas in the midst of these +troubles put an end to them all. + +The strange visitor was Miss Aspasia Fitzgibbon. “You’ll be very much +surprised at my coming to your chambers, no doubt,” she said, as she +sat down in the chair which Phineas placed for her. Phineas could +only say that he was very proud to be so highly honoured, and that he +hoped she was well. “Pretty well, I thank you. I have just come about +a little business, Mr. Finn, and I hope you’ll excuse me.” + +“I’m quite sure that there is no need for excuses,” said Phineas. + +“Laurence, when he hears about it, will say that I’ve been an +impertinent old fool; but I never care what Laurence says, either +this way or that. I’ve been to that Mr. Clarkson, Mr. Finn, and I’ve +paid him the money.” + +“No!” said Phineas. + +“But I have, Mr. Finn. I happened to hear what occurred that night at +the door of the House of Commons.” + +“Who told you, Miss Fitzgibbon?” + +“Never mind who told me. I heard it. I knew before that you had been +foolish enough to help Laurence about money, and so I put two and two +together. It isn’t the first time I have had to do with Mr. Clarkson. +So I sent to him, and I’ve bought the bill. There it is.” And Miss +Fitzgibbon produced the document which bore the name of Phineas Finn +across the front of it. + +“And did you pay him two hundred and fifty pounds for it?” + +“Not quite. I had a very hard tussle, and got it at last for two +hundred and twenty pounds.” + +“And did you do it yourself?” + +“All myself. If I had employed a lawyer I should have had to pay +two hundred and forty pounds and five pounds for costs. And now, +Mr. Finn, I hope you won’t have any more money engagements with my +brother Laurence.” Phineas said that he thought he might promise that +he would have no more. “Because, if you do, I shan’t interfere. If +Laurence began to find that he could get money out of me in that way, +there would be no end to it. Mr. Clarkson would very soon be spending +his spare time in my drawing-room. Good-bye, Mr. Finn. If Laurence +says anything, just tell him that he’d better come to me.” Then +Phineas was left looking at the bill. It was certainly a great relief +to him,--that he should be thus secured from the domiciliary visits +of Mr. Clarkson; a great relief to him to be assured that Mr. +Clarkson would not find him out down at Loughton; but nevertheless, +he had to suffer a pang of shame as he felt that Miss Fitzgibbon had +become acquainted with his poverty and had found herself obliged to +satisfy his pecuniary liabilities. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +Lady Laura Kennedy’s Headache + + +Phineas went down to Loughlinter early in July, taking Loughton in +his way. He stayed there one night at the inn, and was introduced to +sundry influential inhabitants of the borough by Mr. Grating, the +ironmonger, who was known by those who knew Loughton to be a very +strong supporter of the Earl’s interest. Mr. Grating and about half a +dozen others of the tradesmen of the town came to the inn, and met +Phineas in the parlour. He told them he was a good sound Liberal and +a supporter of Mr. Mildmay’s Government, of which their neighbour the +Earl was so conspicuous an ornament. This was almost all that was +said about the Earl out loud; but each individual man of Loughton +then present took an opportunity during the meeting of whispering +into Mr. Finn’s ear a word or two to show that he also was admitted +to the secret councils of the borough,--that he too could see the +inside of the arrangement. “Of course we must support the Earl,” one +said. “Never mind what you hear about a Tory candidate, Mr. Finn,” +whispered a second; “the Earl can do what he pleases here.” And it +seemed to Phineas that it was thought by them all to be rather a fine +thing to be thus held in the hand by an English nobleman. Phineas +could not but reflect much upon this as he lay in his bed at the +Loughton inn. The great political question on which the political +world was engrossed up in London was the enfranchisement of +Englishmen,--of Englishmen down to the rank of artisans and +labourers;--and yet when he found himself in contact with individual +Englishmen, with men even very much above the artisan and the +labourer, he found that they rather liked being bound hand and foot, +and being kept as tools in the political pocket of a rich man. +Every one of those Loughton tradesmen was proud of his own personal +subjection to the Earl! + +From Loughton he went to Loughlinter, having promised to be back in +the borough for the election. Mr. Grating would propose him, and he +was to be seconded by Mr. Shortribs, the butcher and grazier. Mention +had been made of a Conservative candidate, and Mr. Shortribs had +seemed to think that a good stand-up fight upon English principles, +with a clear understanding, of course, that victory should prevail +on the liberal side, would be a good thing for the borough. But the +Earl’s man of business saw Phineas on the morning of his departure, +and told him not to regard Mr. Shortribs. “They’d all like it,” said +the man of business; “and I daresay they’ll have enough of it when +this Reform Bill is passed; but at present no one will be fool enough +to come and spend his money here. We have them all in hand too well +for that, Mr. Finn!” + +He found the great house at Loughlinter nearly empty. Mr. Kennedy’s +mother was there, and Lord Brentford was there, and Lord Brentford’s +private secretary, and Mr. Kennedy’s private secretary. At present +that was the entire party. Lady Baldock was expected there, with +her daughter and Violet Effingham; but, as well as Phineas could +learn, they would not be at Loughlinter until after he had left it. +There had come up lately a rumour that there would be an autumn +session,--that the Houses would sit through October and a part of +November, in order that Mr. Mildmay might try the feeling of the new +Parliament. If this were to be so, Phineas had resolved that, in the +event of his election at Loughton, he would not return to Ireland +till after this autumn session should be over. He gave an account to +the Earl, in the presence of the Earl’s son-in-law, of what had taken +place at Loughton, and the Earl expressed himself as satisfied. It +was manifestly a great satisfaction to Lord Brentford that he should +still have a borough in his pocket, and the more so because there +were so very few noblemen left who had such property belonging to +them. He was very careful in his speech, never saying in so many +words that the privilege of returning a member was his own; but his +meaning was not the less clear. + +Those were dreary days at Loughlinter. There was fishing,--if Phineas +chose to fish; and he was told that he could shoot a deer if he was +minded to go out alone. But it seemed as though it were the intention +of the host that his guests should spend their time profitably. Mr. +Kennedy himself was shut up with books and papers all the morning, +and always took up a book after dinner. The Earl also would read a +little,--and then would sleep a good deal. Old Mrs. Kennedy slept +also, and Lady Laura looked as though she would like to sleep if +it were not that her husband’s eye was upon her. As it was, she +administered tea, Mr. Kennedy not liking the practice of having it +handed round by a servant when none were there but members of the +family circle, and she read novels. Phineas got hold of a stiff bit +of reading for himself, and tried to utilise his time. He took Alison +in hand, and worked his way gallantly through a couple of volumes. +But even he, more than once or twice, found himself on the very verge +of slumber. Then he would wake up and try to think about things. Why +was he, Phineas Finn, an Irishman from Killaloe, living in that great +house of Loughlinter as though he were one of the family, striving to +kill the hours, and feeling that he was in some way subject to the +dominion of his host? Would it not be better for him to get up and go +away? In his heart of hearts he did not like Mr. Kennedy, though he +believed him to be a good man. And of what service to him was it to +like Lady Laura, now that Lady Laura was a possession in the hands of +Mr. Kennedy? Then he would tell himself that he owed his position in +the world entirely to Lady Laura, and that he was ungrateful to feel +himself ever dull in her society. And, moreover, there was something +to be done in the world beyond making love and being merry. Mr. +Kennedy could occupy himself with a blue book for hours together +without wincing. So Phineas went to work again with his Alison, and +read away till he nodded. + +In those days he often wandered up and down the Linter and across the +moor to the Linn, and so down to the lake. He would take a book with +him, and would seat himself down on spots which he loved, and would +pretend to read;--but I do not think that he got much advantage +from his book. He was thinking of his life, and trying to calculate +whether the wonderful success which he had achieved would ever be of +permanent value to him. Would he be nearer to earning his bread when +he should be member for Loughton than he had been when he was member +for Loughshane? Or was there before him any slightest probability +that he would ever earn his bread? And then he thought of Violet +Effingham, and was angry with himself for remembering at that moment +that Violet Effingham was the mistress of a large fortune. + +Once before when he was sitting beside the Linter he had made up his +mind to declare his passion to Lady Laura;--and he had done so on the +very spot. Now, within a twelvemonth of that time, he made up his +mind on the same spot to declare his passion to Miss Effingham, and +he thought his best mode of carrying his suit would be to secure the +assistance of Lady Laura. Lady Laura, no doubt, had been very anxious +that her brother should marry Violet; but Lord Chiltern, as Phineas +knew, had asked for Violet’s hand twice in vain; and, moreover, +Chiltern himself had declared to Phineas that he would never ask +for it again. Lady Laura, who was always reasonable, would surely +perceive that there was no hope of success for her brother. That +Chiltern would quarrel with him,--would quarrel with him to the +knife,--he did not doubt; but he felt that no fear of such a quarrel +as that should deter him. He loved Violet Effingham, and he must +indeed be pusillanimous if, loving her as he did, he was deterred +from expressing his love from any fear of a suitor whom she did not +favour. He would not willingly be untrue to his friendship for Lady +Laura’s brother. Had there been a chance for Lord Chiltern he would +have abstained from putting himself forward. But what was the use +of his abstaining, when by doing so he could in no wise benefit +his friend,--when the result of his doing so would be that some +interloper would come in and carry off the prize? He would explain +all this to Lady Laura, and, if the prize would be kind to him, he +would disregard the anger of Lord Chiltern, even though it might be +anger to the knife. + +As he was thinking of all this Lady Laura stood before him where he +was sitting at the top of the falls. At this moment he remembered +well all the circumstances of the scene when he had been there with +her at his last visit to Loughlinter. How things had changed since +then! Then he had loved Lady Laura with all his heart, and he had now +already brought himself to regard her as a discreet matron whom to +love would be almost as unreasonable as though he were to entertain +a passion for the Lord Chancellor. The reader will understand how +thorough had been the cure effected by Lady Laura’s marriage and the +interval of a few months, when the swain was already prepared to make +this lady the depositary of his confidence in another matter of love. +“You are often here, I suppose?” said Lady Laura, looking down upon +him as he sat upon the rock. + +“Well;--yes; not very often; I come here sometimes because the view +down upon the lake is so fine.” + +“It is the prettiest spot about the place. I hardly ever get here +now. Indeed this is only the second time that I have been up since +we have been at home, and then I came to bring papa here.” There was +a little wooden seat near to the rock upon which Phineas had been +lying, and upon this Lady Laura sat down. Phineas, with his eyes +turned upon the lake, was considering how he might introduce the +subject of his love for Violet Effingham; but he did not find the +matter very easy. He had just resolved to begin by saying that Violet +would certainly never accept Lord Chiltern, when Lady Laura spoke a +word or two which stopped him altogether. “How well I remember,” she +said, “the day when you and I were here last autumn!” + +“So do I. You told me then that you were going to marry Mr. Kennedy. +How much has happened since then!” + +“Much indeed! Enough for a whole lifetime. And yet how slow the time +has gone!” + +“I do not think it has been slow with me,” said Phineas. + +“No; you have been active. You have had your hands full of work. I +am beginning to think that it is a great curse to have been born a +woman.” + +“And yet I have heard you say that a woman may do as much as a man.” + +“That was before I had learned my lesson properly. I know better than +that now. Oh dear! I have no doubt it is all for the best as it is, +but I have a kind of wish that I might be allowed to go out and milk +the cows.” + +“And may you not milk the cows if you wish it, Lady Laura?” + +“By no means;--not only not milk them, but hardly look at them. At +any rate, I must not talk about them.” Phineas of course understood +that she was complaining of her husband, and hardly knew how to reply +to her. He had been sharp enough to perceive already that Mr. Kennedy +was an autocrat in his own house, and he knew Lady Laura well enough +to be sure that such masterdom would be very irksome to her. But he +had not imagined that she would complain to him. “It was so different +at Saulsby,” Lady Laura continued. “Everything there seemed to be my +own.” + +“And everything here is your own.” + +“Yes,--according to the prayer-book. And everything in truth is my +own,--as all the dainties at the banquet belonged to Sancho the +Governor.” + +“You mean,” said he,--and then he hesitated; “you mean that Mr. +Kennedy stands over you, guarding you for your own welfare, as the +doctor stood over Sancho and guarded him?” + +There was a pause before she answered,--a long pause, during which he +was looking away over the lake, and thinking how he might introduce +the subject of his love. But long as was the pause, he had not begun +when Lady Laura was again speaking. “The truth is, my friend,” she +said, “that I have made a mistake.” + +“A mistake?” + +“Yes, Phineas, a mistake. I have blundered as fools blunder, thinking +that I was clever enough to pick my footsteps aright without asking +counsel from any one. I have blundered and stumbled and fallen, and +now I am so bruised that I am not able to stand upon my feet.” The +word that struck him most in all this was his own Christian name. She +had never called him Phineas before. He was aware that the circle +of his acquaintance had fallen into a way of miscalling him by his +Christian name, as one observes to be done now and again in reference +to some special young man. Most of the men whom he called his friends +called him Phineas. Even the Earl had done so more than once on +occasions in which the greatness of his position had dropped for a +moment out of his mind. Mrs. Low had called him Phineas when she +regarded him as her husband’s most cherished pupil; and Mrs. Bunce +had called him Mr. Phineas. He had always been Phineas to everybody +at Killaloe. But still he was quite sure that Lady Laura had never so +called him before. Nor would she have done so now in her husband’s +presence. He was sure of that also. + +“You mean that you are unhappy?” he said, still looking away from her +towards the lake. + +“Yes, I do mean that. Though I do not know why I should come and tell +you so,--except that I am still blundering and stumbling, and have +fallen into a way of hurting myself at every step.” + +“You can tell no one who is more anxious for your happiness,” said +Phineas. + +“That is a very pretty speech, but what would you do for my +happiness? Indeed, what is it possible that you should do? I mean it +as no rebuke when I say that my happiness or unhappiness is a matter +as to which you will soon become perfectly indifferent.” + +“Why should you say so, Lady Laura?” + +“Because it is natural that it should be so. You and Mr. Kennedy +might have been friends. Not that you will be, because you are unlike +each other in all your ways. But it might have been so.” + +“And are not you and I to be friends?” he asked. + +“No. In a very few months you will not think of telling me what are +your desires or what your sorrows;--and as for me, it will be out +of the question that I should tell mine to you. How can you be my +friend?” + +“If you were not quite sure of my friendship, Lady Laura, you would +not speak to me as you are speaking now.” Still he did not look at +her, but lay with his face supported on his hands, and his eyes +turned away upon the lake. But she, where she was sitting, could see +him, and was aided by her sight in making comparisons in her mind +between the two men who had been her lovers,--between him whom she +had taken and him whom she had left. There was something in the hard, +dry, unsympathising, unchanging virtues of her husband which almost +revolted her. He had not a fault, but she had tried him at every +point and had been able to strike no spark of fire from him. Even by +disobeying she could produce no heat,--only an access of firmness. +How would it have been with her had she thrown all ideas of fortune +to the winds, and linked her lot to that of the young Phoebus who +was lying at her feet? If she had ever loved any one she had loved +him. And she had not thrown away her love for money. So she swore to +herself over and over again, trying to console herself in her cold +unhappiness. She had married a rich man in order that she might be +able to do something in the world;--and now that she was this rich +man’s wife she found that she could do nothing. The rich man thought +it to be quite enough for her to sit at home and look after his +welfare. In the meantime young Phoebus,--her Phoebus as he had +been once,--was thinking altogether of some one else. + +“Phineas,” she said, slowly, “I have in you such perfect confidence +that I will tell you the truth;--as one man may tell it to another. I +wish you would go from here.” + +“What, at once?” + +“Not to-day, or to-morrow. Stay here now till the election; but do +not return. He will ask you to come, and press you hard, and will be +hurt;--for, strange to say, with all his coldness, he really likes +you. He has a pleasure in seeing you here. But he must not have that +pleasure at the expense of trouble to me.” + +“And why is it a trouble to you?” he asked. Men are such fools;--so +awkward, so unready, with their wits ever behind the occasion by a +dozen seconds or so! As soon as the words were uttered, he knew that +they should not have been spoken. + +“Because I am a fool,” she said. “Why else? Is not that enough for +you?” + +“Laura--,” he said. + +“No,--no; I will have none of that. I am a fool, but not such a fool +as to suppose that any cure is to be found there.” + +“Only say what I can do for you, though it be with my entire life, +and I will do it.” + +“You can do nothing,--except to keep away from me.” + +“Are you earnest in telling me that?” Now at last he had turned +himself round and was looking at her, and as he looked he saw the hat +of a man appearing up the path, and immediately afterwards the face. +It was the hat and face of the laird of Loughlinter. “Here is Mr. +Kennedy,” said Phineas, in a tone of voice not devoid of dismay and +trouble. + +“So I perceive,” said Lady Laura. But there was no dismay or trouble +in the tone of her voice. + +In the countenance of Mr. Kennedy, as he approached closer, there was +not much to be read,--only, perhaps, some slight addition of gloom, +or rather, perhaps, of that frigid propriety of moral demeanour for +which he had always been conspicuous, which had grown upon him at his +marriage, and which had been greatly increased by the double action +of being made a Cabinet Minister and being garrotted. “I am glad that +your headache is better,” he said to his wife, who had risen from +her seat to meet him. Phineas also had risen, and was now looking +somewhat sheepish where he stood. + +“I came out because it was worse,” she said. “It irritated me so that +I could not stand the house any longer.” + +“I will send to Callender for Dr. Macnuthrie.” + +“Pray do nothing of the kind, Robert. I do not want Dr. Macnuthrie at +all.” + +“Where there is illness, medical advice is always expedient.” + +“I am not ill. A headache is not illness.” + +“I had thought it was,” said Mr. Kennedy, very drily. + +“At any rate, I would rather not have Dr. Macnuthrie.” + +“I am sure it cannot do you any good to climb up here in the heat of +the sun. Had you been here long, Finn?” + +“All the morning;--here, or hereabouts. I clambered up from the lake +and had a book in my pocket.” + +“And you happened to come across him by accident?” Mr. Kennedy +asked. There was something so simple in the question that its very +simplicity proved that there was no suspicion. + +“Yes;--by chance,” said Lady Laura. “But every one at Loughlinter +always comes up here. If any one ever were missing whom I wanted to +find, this is where I should look.” + +“I am going on towards Linter forest to meet Blane,” said Mr. +Kennedy. Blane was the gamekeeper. “If you don’t mind the trouble, +Finn, I wish you’d take Lady Laura down to the house. Do not let her +stay out in the heat. I will take care that somebody goes over to +Callender for Dr. Macnuthrie.” Then Mr. Kennedy went on, and Phineas +was left with the charge of taking Lady Laura back to the house. When +Mr. Kennedy’s hat had first appeared coming up the walk, Phineas +had been ready to proclaim himself prepared for any devotion in the +service of Lady Laura. Indeed, he had begun to reply with criminal +tenderness to the indiscreet avowal which Lady Laura had made to +him. But he felt now, after what had just occurred in the husband’s +presence, that any show of tenderness,--of criminal tenderness,--was +impossible. The absence of all suspicion on the part of Mr. Kennedy +had made Phineas feel that he was bound by all social laws to refrain +from such tenderness. Lady Laura began to descend the path before +him without a word;--and went on, and on, as though she would have +reached the house without speaking, had he not addressed her. “Does +your head still pain you?” he asked. + +“Of course it does.” + +“I suppose he is right in saying that you should not be out in the +heat.” + +“I do not know. It is not worth while to think about that. He sends +me in, and so of course I must go. And he tells you to take me, and +so of course you must take me.” + +“Would you wish that I should let you go alone?” + +“Yes, I would. Only he will be sure to find it out; and you must not +tell him that you left me at my request.” + +“Do you think that I am afraid of him?” said Phineas. + +“Yes;--I think you are. I know that I am, and that papa is; and that +his mother hardly dares to call her soul her own. I do not know why +you should escape.” + +“Mr. Kennedy is nothing to me.” + +“He is something to me, and so I suppose I had better go on. And +now I shall have that horrid man from the little town pawing me +and covering everything with snuff, and bidding me take Scotch +physic,--which seems to increase in quantity and nastiness as doses +in England decrease. And he will stand over me to see that I take +it.” + +“What;--the doctor from Callender?” + +“No;--but Mr. Kennedy will. If he advised me to have a hole in my +glove mended, he would ask me before he went to bed whether it was +done. He never forgot anything in his life, and was never unmindful +of anything. That I think will do, Mr. Finn. You have brought me out +from the trees, and that may be taken as bringing me home. We shall +hardly get scolded if we part here. Remember what I told you up +above. And remember also that it is in your power to do nothing else +for me. Good-bye.” So he turned away towards the lake, and let Lady +Laura go across the wide lawn to the house by herself. + +He had failed altogether in his intention of telling his friend of +his love for Violet, and had come to perceive that he could not for +the present carry out that intention. After what had passed it would +be impossible for him to go to Lady Laura with a passionate tale of +his longing for Violet Effingham. If he were even to speak to her of +love at all, it must be quite of another love than that. But he never +would speak to her of love; nor,--as he felt quite sure,--would she +allow him to do so. But what astounded him most as he thought of the +interview which had just passed, was the fact that the Lady Laura +whom he had known,--whom he had thought he had known,--should have +become so subject to such a man as Mr. Kennedy, a man whom he had +despised as being weak, irresolute, and without a purpose! For the +day or two that he remained at Loughlinter, he watched the family +closely, and became aware that Lady Laura had been right when she +declared that her father was afraid of Mr. Kennedy. + +“I shall follow you almost immediately,” said the Earl confidentially +to Phineas, when the candidate for the borough took his departure +from Loughlinter. “I don’t like to be there just when the election is +going on, but I’ll be at Saulsby to receive you the day afterwards.” + +Phineas took his leave from Mr. Kennedy, with a warm expression of +friendship on the part of his host, and from Lady Laura with a mere +touch of the hand. He tried to say a word; but she was sullen, or, if +not, she put on some mood like to sullenness, and said never a word +to him. + +On the day after the departure of Phineas Finn for Loughton Lady +Laura Kennedy still had a headache. She had complained of a headache +ever since she had been at Loughlinter, and Dr. Macnuthrie had been +over more than once. “I wonder what it is that ails you,” said her +husband, standing over her in her own sitting-room up-stairs. It was +a pretty room, looking away to the mountains, with just a glimpse of +the lake to be caught from the window, and it had been prepared for +her with all the skill and taste of an accomplished upholsterer. She +had selected the room for herself soon after her engagement, and had +thanked her future husband with her sweetest smile for giving her +the choice. She had thanked him and told him that she always meant +to be happy,--so happy in that room! He was a man not much given to +romance, but he thought of this promise as he stood over her and +asked after her health. As far as he could see she had never been +even comfortable since she had been at Loughlinter. A shadow of the +truth came across his mind. Perhaps his wife was bored. If so, what +was to be the future of his life and of hers? He went up to London +every year, and to Parliament, as a duty; and then, during some +period of the recess, would have his house full of guests,--as +another duty. But his happiness was to consist in such hours as these +which seemed to inflict upon his wife the penalty of a continual +headache. A shadow of the truth came upon him. What if his wife did +not like living quietly at home as the mistress of her husband’s +house? What if a headache was always to be the result of a simple +performance of domestic duties? + +More than a shadow of truth had come upon Lady Laura herself. +The dark cloud created by the entire truth was upon her, making +everything black and wretched around her. She had asked herself a +question or two, and had discovered that she had no love for her +husband, that the kind of life which he intended to exact from her +was insupportable to her, and that she had blundered and fallen in +her entrance upon life. She perceived that her father had already +become weary of Mr. Kennedy, and that, lonely and sad as he would +be at Saulsby by himself, it was his intention to repudiate the +idea of making a home at Loughlinter. Yes;--she would be deserted by +everyone, except of course by her husband; and then-- Then she would +throw herself on some early morning into the lake, for life would be +insupportable. + +“I wonder what it is that ails you,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“Nothing serious. One can’t always help having a headache, you know.” + +“I don’t think you take enough exercise, Laura. I would propose that +you should walk four miles every day after breakfast. I will always +be ready to accompany you. I have spoken to Dr. Macnuthrie--” + +“I hate Dr. Macnuthrie.” + +“Why should you hate Dr. Macnuthrie, Laura?” + +“How can I tell why? I do. That is quite reason enough why you should +not send for him to me.” + +“You are unreasonable, Laura. One chooses a doctor on account of +his reputation in his profession, and that of Dr. Macnuthrie stands +high.” + +“I do not want any doctor.” + +“But if you are ill, my dear--” + +“I am not ill.” + +“But you said you had a headache. You have said so for the last ten +days.” + +“Having a headache is not being ill. I only wish you would not talk +of it, and then perhaps I should get rid of it.” + +“I cannot believe that. Headache in nine cases out of ten comes from +the stomach.” Though he said this,--saying it because it was the +common-place common-sense sort of thing to say, still at the very +moment there was the shadow of the truth before his eyes. What if +this headache meant simple dislike to him, and to his modes of life? + +“It is nothing of that sort,” said Lady Laura, impatient at having +her ailment inquired into with so much accuracy. + +“Then what is it? You cannot think that I can be happy to hear you +complaining of headache every day,--making it an excuse for absolute +idleness.” + +“What is it that you want me to do?” she said, jumping up from her +seat. “Set me a task, and if I don’t go mad over it, I’ll get through +it. There are the account books. Give them to me. I don’t suppose I +can see the figures, but I’ll try to see them.” + +“Laura, this is unkind of you,--and ungrateful.” + +“Of course;--it is everything that is bad. What a pity that you did +not find it out last year! Oh dear, oh dear! what am I to do?” Then +she threw herself down upon the sofa, and put both her hands up to +her temples. + +“I will send for Dr. Macnuthrie at once,” said Mr. Kennedy, walking +towards the door very slowly, and speaking as slowly as he walked. + +“No;--do no such thing,” she said, springing to her feet again and +intercepting him before he reached the door. “If he comes I will not +see him. I give you my word that I will not speak to him if he comes. +You do not understand,” she said; “you do not understand at all.” + +“What is it that I ought to understand?” he asked. + +“That a woman does not like to be bothered.” + +He made no reply at once, but stood there twisting the handle of the +door, and collecting his thoughts. “Yes,” said he at last; “I am +beginning to find that out;--and to find out also what it is that +bothers a woman, as you call it. I can see now what it is that makes +your head ache. It is not the stomach. You are quite right there. It +is the prospect of a quiet decent life, to which would be attached +the performance of certain homely duties. Dr. Macnuthrie is a learned +man, but I doubt whether he can do anything for such a malady.” + +“You are quite right, Robert; he can do nothing.” + +“It is a malady you must cure for yourself, Laura;--and which is to +be cured by perseverance. If you can bring yourself to try--” + +“But I cannot bring myself to try at all,” she said. + +“Do you mean to tell me, Laura, that you will make no effort to do +your duty as my wife?” + +“I mean to tell you that I will not try to cure a headache by doing +sums. That is all that I mean to say at this moment. If you will +leave me for awhile, so that I may lie down, perhaps I shall be able +to come to dinner.” He still hesitated, standing with the door in his +hand. “But if you go on scolding me,” she continued, “what I shall +do is to go to bed directly you go away.” He hesitated for a moment +longer, and then left the room without another word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +Mr. Slide’s Grievance + + +Our hero was elected member for Loughton without any trouble to him +or, as far as he could see, to any one else. He made one speech from +a small raised booth that was called a platform, and that was all +that he was called upon to do. Mr. Grating made a speech in proposing +him, and Mr. Shortribs another in seconding him; and these were all +the speeches that were required. The thing seemed to be so very easy +that he was afterwards almost offended when he was told that the bill +for so insignificant a piece of work came to £247 13s. 9d. He had +seen no occasion for spending even the odd forty-seven pounds. But +then he was member for Loughton; and as he passed the evening alone +at the inn, having dined in company with Messrs. Grating, Shortribs, +and sundry other influential electors, he began to reflect that, +after all, it was not so very great a thing to be a member of +Parliament. It almost seemed that that which had come to him so +easily could not be of much value. + +On the following day he went to the castle, and was there when the +Earl arrived. They two were alone together, and the Earl was very +kind to him. “So you had no opponent after all,” said the great man +of Loughton, with a slight smile. + +“Not the ghost of another candidate.” + +“I did not think there would be. They have tried it once or twice and +have always failed. There are only one or two in the place who like +to go one way just because their neighbours go the other. But, in +truth, there is no conservative feeling in the place!” + +Phineas, although he was at the present moment the member for +Loughton himself, could not but enjoy the joke of this. Could there +be any liberal feeling in such a place, or, indeed, any political +feeling whatsoever? Would not Messrs. Grating and Shortribs have done +just the same had it happened that Lord Brentford had been a Tory +peer? “They all seemed to be very obliging,” said Phineas, in answer +to the Earl. + +“Yes, they are. There isn’t a house in the town, you know, let +for longer than seven years, and most of them merely from year to +year. And, do you know, I haven’t a farmer on the property with a +lease,--not one; and they don’t want leases. They know they’re safe. +But I do like the people round me to be of the same way of thinking +as myself about politics.” + +On the second day after dinner,--the last evening of Finn’s visit to +Saulsby,--the Earl fell suddenly into a confidential conversation +about his daughter and his son, and about Violet Effingham. So +sudden, indeed, and so confidential was the conversation, that +Phineas was almost silenced for awhile. A word or two had been said +about Loughlinter, of the beauty of the place and of the vastness of +the property. “I am almost afraid,” said Lord Brentford, “that Laura +is not happy there.” + +“I hope she is,” said Phineas. + +“He is so hard and dry, and what I call exacting. That is just the +word for it. Now Laura has never been used to that. With me she +always had her own way in everything, and I always found her fit +to have it. I do not understand why her husband should treat her +differently.” + +“Perhaps it is the temper of the man.” + +“Temper, yes; but what a bad prospect is that for her! And she, too, +has a temper, and so he will find if he tries her too far. I cannot +stand Loughlinter. I told Laura so fairly. It is one of those houses +in which a man cannot call his hours his own. I told Laura that I +could not undertake to remain there for above a day or two.” + +“It is very sad,” said Phineas. + +“Yes, indeed; it is sad for her, poor girl; and very sad for me too. +I have no one else but Laura,--literally no one; and now I am divided +from her! It seems that she has been taken as much away from me as +though her husband lived in China. I have lost them both now!” + +“I hope not, my lord.” + +“I say I have. As to Chiltern, I can perceive that he becomes more +and more indifferent to me every day. He thinks of me only as a man +in his way who must die some day and may die soon.” + +“You wrong him, Lord Brentford.” + +“I do not wrong him at all. Why has he answered every offer I have +made him with so much insolence as to make it impossible for me to +put myself into further communion with him?” + +“He thinks that you have wronged him.” + +“Yes;--because I have been unable to shut my eyes to his mode of +living. I was to go on paying his debts, and taking no other notice +whatsoever of his conduct!” + +“I do not think he is in debt now.” + +“Because his sister the other day spent every shilling of her fortune +in paying them. She gave him £40,000! Do you think she would have +married Kennedy but for that? I don’t. I could not prevent her. I had +said that I would not cripple my remaining years of life by raising +the money, and I could not go back from my word.” + +“You and Chiltern might raise the money between you.” + +“It would do no good now. She has married Mr. Kennedy, and the money +is nothing to her or to him. Chiltern might have put things right by +marrying Miss Effingham if he pleased.” + +“I think he did his best there.” + +“No;--he did his worst. He asked her to be his wife as a man asks for +a railway-ticket or a pair of gloves, which he buys with a price; +and because she would not jump into his mouth he gave it up. I don’t +believe he even really wanted to marry her. I suppose he has some +disreputable connection to prevent it.” + +“Nothing of the kind. He would marry her to-morrow if he could. My +belief is that Miss Effingham is sincere in refusing him.” + +“I don’t doubt her sincerity.” + +“And that she will never change.” + +“Ah, well; I don’t agree with you, and I daresay I know them both +better than you do. But everything goes against me. I had set my +heart upon it, and therefore of course I shall be disappointed. What +is he going to do this autumn?” + +“He is yachting now.” + +“And who are with him?” + +“I think the boat belongs to Captain Colepepper.” + +“The greatest blackguard in all England! A man who shoots pigeons and +rides steeple-chases! And the worst of Chiltern is this, that even if +he didn’t like the man, and if he were tired of this sort of life, he +would go on just the same because he thinks it a fine thing not to +give way.” This was so true that Phineas did not dare to contradict +the statement, and therefore said nothing. “I had some faint hope,” +continued the Earl, “while Laura could always watch him; because, in +his way, he was fond of his sister. But that is all over now. She +will have enough to do to watch herself!” + +Phineas had felt that the Earl had put him down rather sharply when +he had said that Violet would never accept Lord Chiltern, and he was +therefore not a little surprised when Lord Brentford spoke again of +Miss Effingham the following morning, holding in his hand a letter +which he had just received from her. “They are to be at Loughlinter +on the tenth,” he said, “and she purposes to come here for a couple +of nights on her way.” + +“Lady Baldock and all?” + +“Well, yes; Lady Baldock and all. I am not very fond of Lady Baldock, +but I will put up with her for a couple of days for the sake of +having Violet. She is more like a child of my own now than anybody +else. I shall not see her all the autumn afterwards. I cannot stand +Loughlinter.” + +“It will be better when the house is full.” + +“You will be there, I suppose?” + +“Well, no; I think not,” said Phineas. + +“You have had enough of it, have you?” Phineas made no reply to this, +but smiled slightly. “By Jove, I don’t wonder at it,” said the Earl. +Phineas, who would have given all he had in the world to be staying +in the same country house with Violet Effingham, could not explain +how it had come to pass that he was obliged to absent himself. “I +suppose you were asked?” said the Earl. + +“Oh, yes, I was asked. Nothing can be kinder than they are.” + +“Kennedy told me that you were coming as a matter of course.” + +“I explained to him after that,” said Phineas, “that I should not +return. I shall go over to Ireland. I have a deal of hard reading to +do, and I can get through it there without interruption.” + +He went up from Saulsby to London on that day, and found himself +quite alone in Mrs. Bunce’s lodgings. I mean not only that he was +alone at his lodgings, but he was alone at his club, and alone in the +streets. July was not quite over, and yet all the birds of passage +had migrated. Mr. Mildmay, by his short session, had half ruined the +London tradesmen, and had changed the summer mode of life of all +those who account themselves to be anybody. Phineas, as he sat alone +in his room, felt himself to be nobody. He had told the Earl that +he was going to Ireland, and to Ireland he must go;--because he had +nothing else to do. He had been asked indeed to join one or two +parties in their autumn plans. Mr. Monk had wanted him to go to the +Pyrenees, and Lord Chiltern had suggested that he should join the +yacht;--but neither plan suited him. It would have suited him to be +at Loughlinter with Violet Effingham, but Loughlinter was a barred +house to him. His old friend, Lady Laura, had told him not to come +thither, explaining, with sufficient clearness, her reasons for +excluding him from the number of her husband’s guests. As he thought +of it the past scenes of his life became very marvellous to him. +Twelve months since he would have given all the world for a word of +love from Lady Laura, and had barely dared to hope that such a word, +at some future day, might possibly be spoken. Now such a word had in +truth been spoken, and it had come to be simply a trouble to him. She +had owned to him,--for, in truth, such had been the meaning of her +warning to him,--that, though she had married another man, she had +loved and did love him. But in thinking of this he took no pride in +it. It was not till he had thought of it long that he began to ask +himself whether he might not be justified in gathering from what +happened some hope that Violet also might learn to love him. He had +thought so little of himself as to have been afraid at first to press +his suit with Lady Laura. Might he not venture to think more of +himself, having learned how far he had succeeded? + +But how was he to get at Violet Effingham? From the moment at which +he had left Saulsby he had been angry with himself for not having +asked Lord Brentford to allow him to remain there till after the +Baldock party should have gone on to Loughlinter. The Earl, who was +very lonely in his house, would have consented at once. Phineas, +indeed, was driven to confess to himself that success with Violet +would at once have put an end to all his friendship with Lord +Brentford;--as also to all his friendship with Lord Chiltern. He +would, in such case, be bound in honour to vacate his seat and give +back Loughton to his offended patron. But he would have given up much +more than his seat for Violet Effingham! At present, however, he had +no means of getting at her to ask her the question. He could hardly +go to Loughlinter in opposition to the wishes of Lady Laura. + +A little adventure happened to him in London which somewhat relieved +the dulness of the days of the first week in August. He remained in +London till the middle of August, half resolving to rush down to +Saulsby when Violet Effingham should be there,--endeavouring to +find some excuse for such a proceeding, but racking his brains in +vain,--and then there came about his little adventure. The adventure +was commenced by the receipt of the following letter:-- + + + Banner of the People Office, + 3rd August, 186--. + + MY DEAR FINN, + + I must say I think you have treated me badly, and without + that sort of brotherly fairness which we on the public + press expect from one another. However, perhaps we can + come to an understanding, and if so, things may yet go + smoothly. Give me a turn and I am not at all adverse to + give you one. Will you come to me here, or shall I call + upon you? + + Yours always, Q. S. + + +Phineas was not only surprised, but disgusted also, at the receipt +of this letter. He could not imagine what was the deed by which he +had offended Mr. Slide. He thought over all the circumstances of +his short connection with the _People’s Banner_, but could remember +nothing which might have created offence. But his disgust was greater +than his surprise. He thought that he had done nothing and said +nothing to justify Quintus Slide in calling him “dear Finn.” He, +who had Lady Laura’s secret in his keeping; he who hoped to be the +possessor of Violet Effingham’s affections,--he to be called “dear +Finn” by such a one as Quintus Slide! He soon made up his mind that +he would not answer the note, but would go at once to the _People’s +Banner_ office at the hour at which Quintus Slide was always there. +He certainly would not write to “dear Slide;” and, until he had heard +something more of this cause of offence, he would not make an enemy +for ever by calling the man “dear Sir.” He went to the office of the +_People’s Banner_, and found Mr. Slide ensconced in a little glass +cupboard, writing an article for the next day’s copy. + +“I suppose you’re very busy,” said Phineas, inserting himself with +some difficulty on to a little stool in the corner of the cupboard. + +“Not so particular but what I’m glad to see you. You shoot, don’t +you?” + +“Shoot!” said Phineas. It could not be possible that Mr. Slide was +intending, after this abrupt fashion, to propose a duel with pistols. + +“Grouse and pheasants, and them sort of things?” asked Mr. Slide. + +“Oh, ah; I understand. Yes, I shoot sometimes.” + +“Is it the 12th or 20th for grouse in Scotland?” + +“The 12th,” said Phineas. “What makes you ask that just now?” + +“I’m doing a letter about it,--advising men not to shoot too many of +the young birds, and showing that they’ll have none next year if they +do. I had a fellow here just now who knew all about it, and he put +down a lot; but I forgot to make him tell me the day of beginning. +What’s a good place to date from?” + +Phineas suggested Callender or Stirling. + +“Stirling’s too much of a town, isn’t it? Callender sounds better for +game, I think.” + +So the letter which was to save the young grouse was dated from +Callender; and Mr. Quintus Slide having written the word, threw down +his pen, came off his stool, and rushed at once at his subject. + +“Well, now, Finn,” he said, “don’t you know that you’ve treated me +badly about Loughton?” + +“Treated you badly about Loughton!” Phineas, as he repeated the +words, was quite in the dark as to Mr. Slide’s meaning. Did Mr. Slide +intend to convey a reproach because Phineas had not personally sent +some tidings of the election to the _People’s Banner_? + +“Very badly,” said Mr. Slide, with his arms akimbo,--“very badly +indeed! Men on the press together do expect that they’re to be +stuck by, and not thrown over. Damn it, I say; what’s the good of a +brotherhood if it ain’t to be brotherhood?” + +“Upon my word, I don’t know what you mean,” said Phineas. + +“Didn’t I tell you that I had Loughton in my heye?” said Quintus. + +“Oh--h!” + +“It’s very well to say ho, and look guilty, but didn’t I tell you?” + +“I never heard such nonsense in my life.” + +“Nonsense?” + +“How on earth could you have stood for Loughton? What interest would +you have there? You could not even have found an elector to propose +you.” + +“Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Finn. I think you have thrown +me over most shabby, but I won’t stand about that. You shall have +Loughton this session if you’ll promise to make way for me after the +next election. If you’ll agree to that, we’ll have a special leader +to say how well Lord What’s-his-name has done with the borough; and +we’ll be your horgan through the whole session.” + +“I never heard such nonsense in my life. In the first place, Loughton +is safe to be in the schedule of reduced boroughs. It will be thrown +into the county, or joined with a group.” + +“I’ll stand the chance of that. Will you agree?” + +“Agree! No! It’s the most absurd proposal that was ever made. You +might as well ask me whether I would agree that you should go to +heaven. Go to heaven if you can, I should say. I have not the +slightest objection. But it’s nothing to me.” + +“Very well,” said Quintus Slide. “Very well! Now we understand each +other, and that’s all that I desire. I think that I can show you what +it is to come among gentlemen of the press, and then to throw them +over. Good morning.” + +Phineas, quite satisfied at the result of the interview as regarded +himself, and by no means sorry that there should have arisen a +cause of separation between Mr. Quintus Slide and his “dear Finn,” +shook off a little dust from his foot as he left the office of the +_People’s Banner_, and resolved that in future he would attempt to +make no connection in that direction. As he returned home he told +himself that a member of Parliament should be altogether independent +of the press. On the second morning after his meeting with his late +friend, he saw the result of his independence. There was a startling +article, a tremendous article, showing the pressing necessity of +immediate reform, and proving the necessity by an illustration of +the borough-mongering rottenness of the present system. When such +a patron as Lord Brentford,--himself a Cabinet Minister with a +sinecure,--could by his mere word put into the House such a stick as +Phineas Finn,--a man who had struggled to stand on his legs before +the Speaker, but had wanted both the courage and the capacity, +nothing further could surely be wanted to prove that the Reform Bill +of 1832 required to be supplemented by some more energetic measure. + +Phineas laughed as he read the article, and declared to himself that +the joke was a good joke. But, nevertheless, he suffered. Mr. Quintus +Slide, when he was really anxious to use his thong earnestly, could +generally raise a wale. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +Was He Honest? + + +On the 10th of August, Phineas Finn did return to Loughton. He went +down by the mail train on the night of the 10th, having telegraphed +to the inn for a bed, and was up eating his breakfast in that +hospitable house at nine o’clock. The landlord and landlady with all +their staff were at a loss to imagine what had brought down their +member again so quickly to his borough; but the reader, who will +remember that Lady Baldock with her daughter and Violet Effingham +were to pass the 11th of the month at Saulsby, may perhaps be able +to make a guess on the subject. + +Phineas had been thinking of making this sudden visit to Loughton +ever since he had been up in town, but he could suggest to himself no +reason to be given to Lord Brentford for his sudden reappearance. The +Earl had been very kind to him, but he had said nothing which could +justify his young friend in running in and out of Saulsby Castle at +pleasure, without invitation and without notice. Phineas was so well +aware of this himself that often as he had half resolved during the +last ten days to return to Saulsby, so often had he determined that +he could not do so. He could think of no excuse. Then the heavens +favoured him, and he received a letter from Lord Chiltern, in which +there was a message for Lord Brentford. “If you see my father, tell +him that I am ready at any moment to do what is necessary for raising +the money for Laura.” Taking this as his excuse he returned to +Loughton. + +As chance arranged it, he met the Earl standing on the great steps +before his own castle doors. “What, Finn; is this you? I thought you +were in Ireland.” + +“Not yet, my lord, as you see.” Then he opened his budget at once, +and blushed at his own hypocrisy as he went on with his story. He +had, he said, felt the message from Chiltern to be so all-important +that he could not bring himself to go over to Ireland without +delivering it. He urged upon the Earl that he might learn from this +how anxious Lord Chiltern was to effect a reconciliation. When +it occurred to him, he said, that there might be a hope of doing +anything towards such an object, he could not go to Ireland leaving +the good work behind him. In love and war all things are fair. So he +declared to himself; but as he did so he felt that his story was so +weak that it would hardly gain for him an admittance into the Castle. +In this he was completely wrong. The Earl, swallowing the bait, put +his arm through that of the intruder, and, walking with him through +the paths of the shrubbery, at length confessed that he would be glad +to be reconciled to his son if it were possible. “Let him come here, +and she shall be here also,” said the Earl, speaking of Violet. To +this Phineas could say nothing out loud, but he told himself that all +should be fair between them. He would take no dishonest advantage of +Lord Chiltern. He would give Lord Chiltern the whole message as it +was given to him by Lord Brentford. But should it so turn out that he +himself got an opportunity of saying to Violet all that he had come +to say, and should it also turn out,--an event which he acknowledged +to himself to be most unlikely,--that Violet did not reject him, then +how could he write his letter to Lord Chiltern? So he resolved that +the letter should be written before he saw Violet. But how could he +write such a letter and instantly afterwards do that which would +be false to the spirit of a letter so written? Could he bid Lord +Chiltern come home to woo Violet Effingham, and instantly go forth +to woo her for himself? He found that he could not do so,--unless he +told the whole truth to Lord Chiltern. In no other way could he carry +out his project and satisfy his own idea of what was honest. + +The Earl bade him send to the hotel for his things. “The Baldock +people are all here, you know, but they go very early to-morrow.” +Then Phineas declared that he also must return to London very early +on the morrow;--but in the meantime he would go to the inn and fetch +his things. The Earl thanked him again and again for his generous +kindness; and Phineas, blushing as he received the thanks, went back +and wrote his letter to Lord Chiltern. It was an elaborate letter, +written, as regards the first and larger portion of it, with words +intended to bring the prodigal son back to the father’s home. And +everything was said about Miss Effingham that could or should have +been said. Then, on the last page, he told his own story. “Now,” he +said, “I must speak of myself:”--and he went on to explain to his +friend, in the plainest language that he could use, his own position. +“I have loved her,” he said, “for six months, and I am here with +the express intention of asking her to take me. The chances are ten +to one that she refuses me. I do not deprecate your anger,--if you +choose to be angry. But I am endeavouring to treat you well, and I +ask you to do the same by me. I must convey to you your father’s +message, and after doing so I cannot address myself to Miss Effingham +without telling you. I should feel myself to be false were I to do +so. In the event,--the probable, nay, almost certain event of my +being refused,--I shall trust you to keep my secret. Do not quarrel +with me if you can help it;--but if you must I will be ready.” Then +he posted the letter and went up to the Castle. + +He had only the one day for his action, and he knew that Violet was +watched by Lady Baldock as by a dragon. He was told that the Earl +was out with the young ladies, and was shown to his room. On going +to the drawing-room he found Lady Baldock, with whom he had been, +to a certain degree, a favourite, and was soon deeply engaged in +a conversation as to the practicability of shutting up all the +breweries and distilleries by Act of Parliament. But lunch relieved +him, and brought the young ladies in at two. Miss Effingham seemed +to be really glad to see him, and even Miss Boreham, Lady Baldock’s +daughter, was very gracious to him. For the Earl had been speaking +well of his young member, and Phineas had in a way grown into the +good graces of sober and discreet people. After lunch they were to +ride;--the Earl, that is, and Violet. Lady Baldock and her daughter +were to have the carriage. “I can mount you, Finn, if you would like +it,” said the Earl. “Of course he’ll like it,” said Violet; “do you +suppose Mr. Finn will object to ride with me in Saulsby Woods? It +won’t be the first time, will it?” “Violet,” said Lady Baldock, “you +have the most singular way of talking.” “I suppose I have,” said +Violet; “but I don’t think I can change it now. Mr. Finn knows me too +well to mind it much.” + +It was past five before they were on horseback, and up to that time +Phineas had not found himself alone with Violet Effingham for a +moment. They had sat together after lunch in the dining-room for +nearly an hour, and had sauntered into the hall and knocked about +the billiard balls, and then stood together at the open doors of a +conservatory. But Lady Baldock or Miss Boreham had always been there. +Nothing could be more pleasant than Miss Effingham’s words, or more +familiar than her manner to Phineas. She had expressed strong delight +at his success in getting a seat in Parliament, and had talked to him +about the Kennedys as though they had created some special bond of +union between her and Phineas which ought to make them intimate. But, +for all that, she could not be got to separate herself from Lady +Baldock;--and when she was told that if she meant to ride she must go +and dress herself, she went at once. + +But he thought that he might have a chance on horseback; and after +they had been out about half an hour, chance did favour him. For +awhile he rode behind with the carriage, calculating that by his so +doing the Earl would be put off his guard, and would be disposed +after awhile to change places with him. And so it fell out. At a +certain fall of ground in the park, where the road turned round and +crossed a bridge over the little river, the carriage came up with the +first two horses, and Lady Baldock spoke a word to the Earl. Then +Violet pulled up, allowing the vehicle to pass the bridge first, and +in this way she and Phineas were brought together,--and in this way +they rode on. But he was aware that he must greatly increase the +distance between them and the others of their party before he could +dare to plead his suit, and even were that done he felt that he would +not know how to plead it on horseback. + +They had gone on some half mile in this way when they reached a spot +on which a green ride led away from the main road through the trees +to the left. “You remember this place, do you not?” said Violet. +Phineas declared that he remembered it well. “I must go round by the +woodman’s cottage. You won’t mind coming?” Phineas said that he would +not mind, and trotted on to tell them in the carriage. + +“Where is she going?” asked Lady Baldock; and then, when Phineas +explained, she begged the Earl to go back to Violet. The Earl, +feeling the absurdity of this, declared that Violet knew her way very +well herself, and thus Phineas got his opportunity. + +They rode on almost without speaking for nearly a mile, cantering +through the trees, and then they took another turn to the right, and +came upon the cottage. They rode to the door, and spoke a word or two +to the woman there, and then passed on. “I always come here when I am +at Saulsby,” said Violet, “that I may teach myself to think kindly of +Lord Chiltern.” + +“I understand it all,” said Phineas. + +“He used to be so nice;--and is so still, I believe, only that he has +taught himself to be so rough. Will he ever change, do you think?” + +Phineas knew that in this emergency it was his especial duty to be +honest. “I think he would be changed altogether if we could bring him +here,--so that he should live among his friends.” + +“Do you think he would? We must put our heads together, and do it. +Don’t you think that it is to be done?” + +Phineas replied that he thought it was to be done. “I’ll tell you the +truth at once, Miss Effingham,” he said. “You can do it by a single +word.” + +“Yes;--yes;” she said; “but I do not mean that;--without that. It +is absurd, you know, that a father should make such a condition as +that.” Phineas said that he thought it was absurd; and then they rode +on again, cantering through the wood. He had been bold to speak to +her about Lord Chiltern as he had done, and she had answered just as +he would have wished to be answered. But how could he press his suit +for himself while she was cantering by his side? + +Presently they came to rough ground over which they were forced to +walk, and he was close by her side. “Mr. Finn,” she said, “I wonder +whether I may ask a question?” + +“Any question,” he replied. + +“Is there any quarrel between you and Lady Laura?” + +“None.” + +“Or between you and him?” + +“No;--none. We are greater allies than ever.” + +“Then why are you not going to be at Loughlinter? She has written to +me expressly saying you would not be there.” + +He paused a moment before he replied. “It did not suit,” he said at +last. + +“It is a secret then?” + +“Yes;--it is a secret. You are not angry with me?” + +“Angry; no.” + +“It is not a secret of my own, or I should not keep it from you.” + +“Perhaps I can guess it,” she said. “But I will not try. I will not +even think of it.” + +“The cause, whatever it be, has been full of sorrow to me. I would +have given my left hand to have been at Loughlinter this autumn.” + +“Are you so fond of it?” + +“I should have been staying there with you,” he said. He paused, and +for a moment there was no word spoken by either of them; but he could +perceive that the hand in which she held her whip was playing with +her horse’s mane with a nervous movement. “When I found how it must +be, and that I must miss you, I rushed down here that I might see +you for a moment. And now I am here I do not dare to speak to you of +myself.” They were now beyond the rocks, and Violet, without speaking +a word, again put her horse into a trot. He was by her side in a +moment, but he could not see her face. “Have you not a word to say to +me?” he asked. + +“No;--no;--no;” she replied, “not a word when you speak to me like +that. There is the carriage. Come;--we will join them.” Then she +cantered on, and he followed her till they reached the Earl and Lady +Baldock and Miss Boreham. “I have done my devotions now,” said Miss +Effingham, “and am ready to return to ordinary life.” + +Phineas could not find another moment in which to speak to her. +Though he spent the evening with her, and stood over her as she sang +at the Earl’s request, and pressed her hand as she went to bed, and +was up to see her start in the morning, he could not draw from her +either a word or a look. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +Mr. Monk upon Reform + + +Phineas Finn went to Ireland immediately after his return from +Saulsby, having said nothing further to Violet Effingham, and having +heard nothing further from her than what is recorded in the last +chapter. He felt very keenly that his position was unsatisfactory, +and brooded over it all the autumn and early winter; but he could +form no plan for improving it. A dozen times he thought of writing +to Miss Effingham, and asking for an explicit answer. He could not, +however, bring himself to write the letter, thinking that written +expressions of love are always weak and vapid,--and deterred also +by a conviction that Violet, if driven to reply in writing, would +undoubtedly reply by a refusal. Fifty times he rode again in his +imagination his ride in Saulsby Wood, and he told himself as often +that the syren’s answer to him,--her no, no, no,--had been, of all +possible answers, the most indefinite and provoking. The tone of her +voice as she galloped away from him, the bearing of her countenance +when he rejoined her, her manner to him when he saw her start from +the Castle in the morning, all forbade him to believe that his words +to her had been taken as an offence. She had replied to him with a +direct negative, simply with the word “no;” but she had so said it +that there had hardly been any sting in the no; and he had known at +the moment that whatever might be the result of his suit, he need not +regard Violet Effingham as his enemy. + +But the doubt made his sojourn in Ireland very wearisome to him. +And there were other matters which tended also to his discomfort, +though he was not left even at this period of his life without a +continuation of success which seemed to be very wonderful. And, +first, I will say a word of his discomfort. He heard not a line from +Lord Chiltern in answer to the letter which he had written to his +lordship. From Lady Laura he did hear frequently. Lady Laura wrote to +him exactly as though she had never warned him away from Loughlinter, +and as though there had been no occasion for such warning. She sent +him letters filled chiefly with politics, saying something also of +the guests at Loughlinter, something of the game, and just a word +or two here and there of her husband. The letters were very good +letters, and he preserved them carefully. It was manifest to him that +they were intended to be good letters, and, as such, to be preserved. +In one of these, which he received about the end of November, +she told him that her brother was again in his old haunt, at the +Willingford Bull, and that he had sent to Portman Square for all +property of his own that had been left there. But there was no word +in that letter of Violet Effingham; and though Lady Laura did speak +more than once of Violet, she always did so as though Violet were +simply a joint acquaintance of herself and her correspondent. There +was no allusion to the existence of any special regard on his part +for Miss Effingham. He had thought that Violet might probably tell +her friend what had occurred at Saulsby;--but if she did so, Lady +Laura was happy in her powers of reticence. Our hero was disturbed +also when he reached home by finding that Mrs. Flood Jones and Miss +Flood Jones had retired from Killaloe for the winter. I do not know +whether he might not have been more disturbed by the presence of the +young lady, for he would have found himself constrained to exhibit +towards her some tenderness of manner; and any such tenderness of +manner would, in his existing circumstances, have been dangerous. But +he was made to understand that Mary Flood Jones had been taken away +from Killaloe because it was thought that he had ill-treated the +lady, and the accusation made him unhappy. In the middle of the heat +of the last session he had received a letter from his sister, in +which some pushing question had been asked as to his then existing +feeling about poor Mary. This he had answered petulantly. Nothing +more had been written to him about Miss Jones, and nothing was said +to him when he reached home. He could not, however, but ask after +Mary, and when he did ask, the accusation was made again in that +quietly severe manner with which, perhaps, most of us have been made +acquainted at some period of our lives. “I think, Phineas,” said his +sister, “we had better say nothing about dear Mary. She is not here +at present, and probably you may not see her while you remain with +us.” “What’s all that about?” Phineas had demanded,--understanding +the whole matter thoroughly. Then his sister had demurely refused to +say a word further on the subject, and not a word further was said +about Miss Mary Flood Jones. They were at Floodborough, living, he +did not doubt, in a very desolate way,--and quite willing, he did not +doubt also, to abandon their desolation if he would go over there in +the manner that would become him after what had passed on one or two +occasions between him and the young lady. But how was he to do this +with such work on his hands as he had undertaken? Now that he was in +Ireland, he thought that he did love dear Mary very dearly. He felt +that he had two identities,--that he was, as it were, two separate +persons,--and that he could, without any real faithlessness, be very +much in love with Violet Effingham in his position of man of fashion +and member of Parliament in England, and also warmly attached to dear +little Mary Flood Jones as an Irishman of Killaloe. He was aware, +however, that there was a prejudice against such fulness of heart, +and, therefore, resolved sternly that it was his duty to be constant +to Miss Effingham. How was it possible that he should marry dear +Mary,--he, with such extensive jobs of work on his hands! It was not +possible. He must abandon all thought of making dear Mary his own. No +doubt they had been right to remove her. But, still, as he took his +solitary walks along the Shannon, and up on the hills that overhung +the lake above the town, he felt somewhat ashamed of himself, and +dreamed of giving up Parliament, of leaving Violet to some noble +suitor,--to Lord Chiltern, if she would take him,--and of going to +Floodborough with an honest proposal that he should be allowed to +press Mary to his heart. Miss Effingham would probably reject him +at last; whereas Mary, dear Mary, would come to his heart without +a scruple of doubt. Dear Mary! In these days of dreaming, he told +himself that, after all, dear Mary was his real love. But, of course, +such days were days of dreaming only. He had letters in his pocket +from Lady Laura Kennedy which made it impossible for him to think in +earnest of giving up Parliament. + +And then there came a wonderful piece of luck in his way. There +lived, or had lived, in the town of Galway a very eccentric old lady, +one Miss Marian Persse, who was the aunt of Mrs. Finn, the mother +of our hero. With this lady Dr. Finn had quarrelled persistently +ever since his marriage, because the lady had expressed her wish to +interfere in the management of his family,--offering to purchase such +right by favourable arrangements in reference to her will. This the +doctor had resented, and there had been quarrels. Miss Persse was not +a very rich old lady, but she thought a good deal of her own money. +And now she died, leaving £3,000 to her nephew Phineas Finn. Another +sum of about equal amount she bequeathed to a Roman Catholic +seminary; and thus was her worldly wealth divided. “She couldn’t +have done better with it,” said the old doctor; “and as far as we +are concerned, the windfall is the more pleasant as being wholly +unexpected.” In these days the doctor was undoubtedly gratified by +his son’s success in life, and never said much about the law. Phineas +in truth did do some work during the autumn, reading blue-books, +reading law books, reading perhaps a novel or two at the same +time,--but shutting himself up very carefully as he studied, so that +his sisters were made to understand that for a certain four hours in +the day not a sound was to be allowed to disturb him. + +On the receipt of his legacy he at once offered to repay his father +all money that had been advanced him over and above his original +allowance; but this the doctor refused to take. “It comes to the same +thing, Phineas,” he said. “What you have of your share now you can’t +have hereafter. As regards my present income, it has only made me +work a little longer than I had intended; and I believe that the +later in life a man works, the more likely he is to live.” Phineas, +therefore, when he returned to London, had his £3,000 in his pocket. +He owed some £500; and the remainder he would, of course, invest. + +There had been some talk of an autumnal session, but Mr. Mildmay’s +decision had at last been against it. Who cannot understand that such +would be the decision of any Minister to whom was left the slightest +fraction of free will in the matter? Why should any Minister court +the danger of unnecessary attack, submit himself to unnecessary work, +and incur the odium of summoning all his friends from their rest? +In the midst of the doubts as to the new and old Ministry, when +the political needle was vacillating so tremulously on its pivot, +pointing now to one set of men as the coming Government and then to +another, vague suggestions as to an autumn session might be useful. +And they were thrown out in all good faith. Mr. Mildmay, when he +spoke on the subject to the Duke, was earnest in thinking that the +question of Reform should not be postponed even for six months. +“Don’t pledge yourself,” said the Duke;--and Mr. Mildmay did not +pledge himself. Afterwards, when Mr. Mildmay found that he was +once more assuredly Prime Minister, he changed his mind, and felt +himself to be under a fresh obligation to the Duke. Lord de Terrier +had altogether failed, and the country might very well wait till +February. The country did wait till February, somewhat to the +disappointment of Phineas Finn, who had become tired of blue-books +at Killaloe. The difference between his English life and his life at +home was so great, that it was hardly possible that he should not +become weary of the latter. He did become weary of it, but strove +gallantly to hide his weariness from his father and mother. + +At this time the world was talking much about Reform, though Mr. +Mildmay had become placidly patient. The feeling was growing, and +Mr. Turnbull, with his friends, was doing all he could to make it +grow fast. There was a certain amount of excitement on the subject; +but the excitement had grown downwards, from the leaders to the +people,--from the self-instituted leaders of popular politics down, +by means of the press, to the ranks of working men, instead of +growing upwards, from the dissatisfaction of the masses, till it +expressed itself by this mouthpiece and that, chosen by the people +themselves. There was no strong throb through the country, making +men feel that safety was to be had by Reform, and could not be had +without Reform. But there was an understanding that the press and the +orators were too strong to be ignored, and that some new measure of +Reform must be conceded to them. The sooner the concession was made, +the less it might be necessary to concede. And all men of all parties +were agreed on this point. That Reform was in itself odious to many +of those who spoke of it freely, who offered themselves willingly to +be its promoters, was acknowledged. It was not only odious to Lord de +Terrier and to most of those who worked with him, but was equally so +to many of Mr. Mildmay’s most constant supporters. The Duke had no +wish for Reform. Indeed it is hard to suppose that such a Duke can +wish for any change in a state of things that must seem to him to be +so salutary. Workmen were getting full wages. Farmers were paying +their rent. Capitalists by the dozen were creating capitalists by the +hundreds. Nothing was wrong in the country, but the over-dominant +spirit of speculative commerce;--and there was nothing in Reform to +check that. Why should the Duke want Reform? As for such men as Lord +Brentford, Sir Harry Coldfoot, Lord Plinlimmon, and Mr. Legge Wilson, +it was known to all men that they advocated Reform as we all of us +advocate doctors. Some amount of doctoring is necessary for us. We +may hardly hope to avoid it. But let us have as little of the doctor +as possible. Mr. Turnbull, and the cheap press, and the rising spirit +of the loudest among the people, made it manifest that something must +be conceded. Let us be generous in our concession. That was now the +doctrine of many,--perhaps of most of the leading politicians of the +day. Let us be generous. Let us at any rate seem to be generous. Let +us give with an open hand,--but still with a hand which, though open, +shall not bestow too much. The coach must be allowed to run down the +hill. Indeed, unless the coach goes on running no journey will be +made. But let us have the drag on both the hind wheels. And we must +remember that coaches running down hill without drags are apt to come +to serious misfortune. + +But there were men, even in the Cabinet, who had other ideas of +public service than that of dragging the wheels of the coach. Mr. +Gresham was in earnest. Plantagenet Palliser was in earnest. That +exceedingly intelligent young nobleman Lord Cantrip was in earnest. +Mr. Mildmay threw, perhaps, as much of earnestness into the matter +as was compatible with his age and his full appreciation of the +manner in which the present cry for Reform had been aroused. He was +thoroughly honest, thoroughly patriotic, and thoroughly ambitious +that he should be written of hereafter as one who to the end of a +long life had worked sedulously for the welfare of the people;--but +he disbelieved in Mr. Turnbull, and in the bottom of his heart +indulged an aristocratic contempt for the penny press. And there was +no man in England more in earnest, more truly desirous of Reform, +than Mr. Monk. It was his great political idea that political +advantages should be extended to the people, whether the people +clamoured for them or did not clamour for them,--even whether they +desired them or did not desire them. “You do not ask a child whether +he would like to learn his lesson,” he would say. “At any rate, you +do not wait till he cries for his book.” When, therefore, men said to +him that there was no earnestness in the cry for Reform, that the cry +was a false cry, got up for factious purposes by interested persons, +he would reply that the thing to be done should not be done in +obedience to any cry, but because it was demanded by justice, and was +a debt due to the people. + +Our hero in the autumn had written to Mr. Monk on the politics of the +moment, and the following had been Mr. Monk’s reply:-- + + + Longroyston, October 12, 186--. + + MY DEAR FINN, + + I am staying here with the Duke and Duchess of St. + Bungay. The house is very full, and Mr. Mildmay was + here last week; but as I don’t shoot, and can’t play + billiards, and have no taste for charades, I am becoming + tired of the gaieties, and shall leave them to-morrow. + Of course you know that we are not to have the autumn + session. I think that Mr. Mildmay is right. Could we have + been sure of passing our measure, it would have been very + well; but we could not have been sure, and failure with + our bill in a session convened for the express purpose of + passing it would have injured the cause greatly. We could + hardly have gone on with it again in the spring. Indeed, + we must have resigned. And though I may truly say that I + would as lief have a good measure from Lord de Terrier + as from Mr. Mildmay, and that I am indifferent to my own + present personal position, still I think that we should + endeavour to keep our seats as long as we honestly + believe ourselves to be more capable of passing a good + measure than are our opponents. + + I am astonished by the difference of opinion which + exists about Reform,--not only as to the difference in + the extent and exact tendency of the measure that is + needed,--but that there should be such a divergence of + ideas as to the grand thing to be done and the grand + reason for doing it. We are all agreed that we want + Reform in order that the House of Commons may be returned + by a larger proportion of the people than is at present + employed upon that work, and that each member when + returned should represent a somewhat more equal section + of the whole constituencies of the country than our + members generally do at present. All men confess that a + £50 county franchise must be too high, and that a borough + with less than two hundred registered voters must be + wrong. But it seems to me that but few among us perceive, + or at any rate acknowledge, the real reasons for changing + these things and reforming what is wrong without delay. + One great authority told us the other day that the sole + object of legislation on this subject should be to get + together the best possible 658 members of Parliament. + That to me would be a most repulsive idea if it were + not that by its very vagueness it becomes inoperative. + Who shall say what is best; or what characteristic + constitutes excellence in a member of Parliament? If + the gentleman means excellence in general wisdom, or + in statecraft, or in skill in talking, or in private + character, or even excellence in patriotism, then I say + that he is utterly wrong, and has never touched with + his intellect the true theory of representation. One + only excellence may be acknowledged, and that is the + excellence of likeness. As a portrait should be like the + person portrayed, so should a representative House be + like the people whom it represents. Nor in arranging + a franchise does it seem to me that we have a right + to regard any other view. If a country be unfit for + representative government,--and it may be that there are + still peoples unable to use properly that greatest of + all blessings,--the question as to what state policy may + be best for them is a different question. But if we do + have representation, let the representative assembly be + like the people, whatever else may be its virtues,--and + whatever else its vices. + + Another great authority has told us that our House of + Commons should be the mirror of the people. I say, not + its mirror, but its miniature. And let the artist be + careful to put in every line of the expression of that + ever-moving face. To do this is a great work, and the + artist must know his trade well. In America the work has + been done with so coarse a hand that nothing is shown + in the picture but the broad, plain, unspeaking outline + of the face. As you look from the represented to the + representation you cannot but acknowledge the likeness; + --but there is in that portrait more of the body than of + the mind. The true portrait should represent more than + the body. With us, hitherto, there have been snatches + of the countenance of the nation which have been + inimitable,--a turn of the eye here and a curl of the lip + there, which have seemed to denote a power almost divine. + There have been marvels on the canvas so beautiful that + one approaches the work of remodelling it with awe. + But not only is the picture imperfect,--a thing of + snatches,--but with years it becomes less and still less + like its original. + + The necessity for remodelling it is imperative, and we + shall be cowards if we decline the work. But let us be + specially careful to retain as much as possible of those + lines which we all acknowledge to be so faithfully + representative of our nation. To give to a bare numerical + majority of the people that power which the numerical + majority has in the United States, would not be to + achieve representation. The nation as it now exists would + not be known by such a portrait;--but neither can it + now be known by that which exists. It seems to me that + they who are adverse to change, looking back with an + unmeasured respect on what our old Parliaments have done + for us, ignore the majestic growth of the English people, + and forget the present in their worship of the past. They + think that we must be what we were,--at any rate, what + we were thirty years since. They have not, perhaps, gone + into the houses of artisans, or, if there, they have not + looked into the breasts of the men. With population vice + has increased, and these politicians, with ears but + no eyes, hear of drunkenness and sin and ignorance. + And then they declare to themselves that this wicked, + half-barbarous, idle people should be controlled and not + represented. A wicked, half-barbarous, idle people may be + controlled;--but not a people thoughtful, educated, and + industrious. We must look to it that we do not endeavour + to carry our control beyond the wickedness and the + barbarity, and that we be ready to submit to control from + thoughtfulness and industry. + + I hope we shall find you helping at the good work early + in the spring. + + Yours, always faithfully, + + JOSHUA MONK. + + +Phineas was up in London before the end of January, but did not find +there many of those whom he wished to see. Mr. Low was there, and to +him he showed Mr. Monk’s letter, thinking that it must be convincing +even to Mr. Low. This he did in Mrs. Low’s drawing-room, knowing that +Mrs. Low would also condescend to discuss politics on an occasion. +He had dined with them, and they had been glad to see him, and Mrs. +Low had been less severe than hitherto against the great sin of her +husband’s late pupil. She had condescended to congratulate him on +becoming member for an English borough instead of an Irish one, and +had asked him questions about Saulsby Castle. But, nevertheless, Mr. +Monk’s letter was not received with that respectful admiration which +Phineas thought that it deserved. Phineas, foolishly, had read it +out loud, so that the attack came upon him simultaneously from the +husband and from the wife. + +“It is just the usual claptrap,” said Mr. Low, “only put into +language somewhat more grandiloquent than usual.” + +“Claptrap!” said Phineas. + +“It’s what I call downright Radical nonsense,” said Mrs. Low, nodding +her head energetically. “Portrait indeed! Why should we want to have +a portrait of ignorance and ugliness? What we all want is to have +things quiet and orderly.” + +“Then you’d better have a paternal government at once,” said Phineas. + +“Just so,” said Mr. Low,--“only that what you call a paternal +government is not always quiet and orderly. National order I take to +be submission to the law. I should not think it quiet and orderly if +I were sent to Cayenne without being brought before a jury.” + +“But such a man as you would not be sent to Cayenne,” said Phineas. + +“My next-door neighbour might be,--which would be almost as bad. Let +him be sent to Cayenne if he deserves it, but let a jury say that +he has deserved it. My idea of government is this,--that we want +to be governed by law and not by caprice, and that we must have a +legislature to make our laws. If I thought that Parliament as at +present established made the laws badly, I would desire a change; +but I doubt whether we shall have them better from any change in +Parliament which Reform will give us.” + +“Of course not,” said Mrs. Low. “But we shall have a lot of beggars +put on horseback, and we all know where they ride to.” + +Then Phineas became aware that it is not easy to convince any man or +any woman on a point of politics,--not even though he who argues may +have an eloquent letter from a philosophical Cabinet Minister in his +pocket to assist him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +Phineas Finn Makes Progress + + +February was far advanced and the new Reform Bill had already been +brought forward, before Lady Laura Kennedy came up to town. Phineas +had of course seen Mr. Kennedy and had heard from him tidings of +his wife. She was at Saulsby with Lady Baldock and Miss Boreham and +Violet Effingham, but was to be in London soon. Mr. Kennedy, as it +appeared, did not quite know when he was to expect his wife; and +Phineas thought that he could perceive from the tone of the husband’s +voice that something was amiss. He could not however ask any +questions excepting such as referred to the expected arrival. Was +Miss Effingham to come to London with Lady Laura? Mr. Kennedy +believed that Miss Effingham would be up before Easter, but he did +not know whether she would come with his wife. “Women,” he said, “are +so fond of mystery that one can never quite know what they intend to +do.” He corrected himself at once however, perceiving that he had +seemed to say something against his wife, and explained that his +general accusation against the sex was not intended to apply to +Lady Laura. This, however, he did so awkwardly as to strengthen +the feeling with Phineas that something assuredly was wrong. “Miss +Effingham,” said Mr. Kennedy, “never seems to know her own mind.” +“I suppose she is like other beautiful girls who are petted on all +sides,” said Phineas. “As for her beauty, I don’t think much of it,” +said Mr. Kennedy; “and as for petting, I do not understand it in +reference to grown persons. Children may be petted, and dogs,--though +that too is bad; but what you call petting for grown persons is I +think frivolous and almost indecent.” Phineas could not help thinking +of Lord Chiltern’s opinion that it would have been wise to have left +Mr. Kennedy in the hands of the garrotters. + +The debate on the second reading of the bill was to be commenced +on the 1st of March, and two days before that Lady Laura arrived +in Grosvenor Place. Phineas got a note from her in three words to +say that she was at home and would see him if he called on Sunday +afternoon. The Sunday to which she alluded was the last day of +February. Phineas was now more certain than ever that something +was wrong. Had there been nothing wrong between Lady Laura and her +husband, she would not have rebelled against him by asking visitors +to the house on a Sunday. He had nothing to do with that, however, +and of course he did as he was desired. He called on the Sunday, and +found Mrs. Bonteen sitting with Lady Laura. “I am just in time for +the debate,” said Lady Laura, when the first greeting was over. + +“You don’t mean to say that you intend to sit it out,” said Mrs. +Bonteen. + +“Every word of it,--unless I lose my seat. What else is there to be +done at present?” + +“But the place they give us is so unpleasant,” said Mrs. Bonteen. + +“There are worse places even than the Ladies’ Gallery,” said +Lady Laura. “And perhaps it is as well to make oneself used to +inconveniences of all kinds. You will speak, Mr. Finn?” + +“I intend to do so.” + +“Of course you will. The great speeches will be Mr. Gresham’s, Mr. +Daubeny’s, and Mr. Monk’s.” + +“Mr. Palliser intends to be very strong,” said Mrs. Bonteen. + +“A man cannot be strong or not as he likes it,” said Lady Laura. “Mr. +Palliser I believe to be a most useful man, but he never can become +an orator. He is of the same class as Mr. Kennedy,--only of course +higher in the class.” + +“We all look for a great speech from Mr. Kennedy,” said Mrs. Bonteen. + +“I have not the slightest idea whether he will open his lips,” said +Lady Laura. Immediately after that Mrs. Bonteen took her leave. +“I hate that woman like poison,” continued Lady Laura. “She is +always playing a game, and it is such a small game that she plays! +And she contributes so little to society. She is not witty nor +well-informed,--not even sufficiently ignorant or ridiculous to be a +laughing-stock. One gets nothing from her, and yet she has made her +footing good in the world.” + +“I thought she was a friend of yours.” + +“You did not think so! You could not have thought so! How can you +bring such an accusation against me, knowing me as you do? But never +mind Mrs. Bonteen now. On what day shall you speak?” + +“On Tuesday if I can.” + +“I suppose you can arrange it?” + +“I shall endeavour to do so, as far as any arrangement can go.” + +“We shall carry the second reading,” said Lady Laura. + +“Yes,” said Phineas; “I think we shall; but by the votes of men who +are determined so to pull the bill to pieces in committee, that its +own parents will not know it. I doubt whether Mr. Mildmay will have +the temper to stand it.” + +“They tell me that Mr. Mildmay will abandon the custody of the bill +to Mr. Gresham after his first speech.” + +“I don’t know that Mr. Gresham’s temper is more enduring than Mr. +Mildmay’s,” said Phineas. + +“Well;--we shall see. My own impression is that nothing would save +the country so effectually at the present moment as the removal of +Mr. Turnbull to a higher and a better sphere.” + +“Let us say the House of Lords,” said Phineas. + +“God forbid!” said Lady Laura. + +Phineas sat there for half an hour and then got up to go, having +spoken no word on any other subject than that of politics. He longed +to ask after Violet. He longed to make some inquiry respecting Lord +Chiltern. And, to tell the truth, he felt painfully curious to +hear Lady Laura say something about her own self. He could not but +remember what had been said between them up over the waterfall, and +how he had been warned not to return to Loughlinter. And then again, +did Lady Laura know anything of what had passed between him and +Violet? “Where is your brother?” he said, as he rose from his chair. + +“Oswald is in London. He was here not an hour before you came in.” + +“Where is he staying?” + +“At Moroni’s. He goes down on Tuesday, I think. He is to see his +father to-morrow morning.” + +“By agreement?” + +“Yes;--by agreement. There is a new trouble,--about money that they +think to be due to me. But I cannot tell you all now. There have been +some words between Mr. Kennedy and papa. But I won’t talk about it. +You would find Oswald at Moroni’s at any hour before eleven +to-morrow.” + +“Did he say anything about me?” asked Phineas. + +“We mentioned your name certainly.” + +“I do not ask from vanity, but I want to know whether he is angry +with me.” + +“Angry with you! Not in the least. I’ll tell you just what he said. +He said he should not wish to live even with you, but that he would +sooner try it with you than with any man he ever knew.” + +“He had got a letter from me?” + +“He did not say so;--but he did not say he had not.” + +“I will see him to-morrow if I can.” And then Phineas prepared to go. + +“One word, Mr. Finn,” said Lady Laura, hardly looking him in the face +and yet making an effort to do so. “I wish you to forget what I said +to you at Loughlinter.” + +“It shall be as though it were forgotten,” said Phineas. + +“Let it be absolutely forgotten. In such a case a man is bound to do +all that a woman asks him, and no man has a truer spirit of chivalry +than yourself. That is all. Look in when you can. I will not ask you +to dine here as yet, because we are so frightfully dull. Do your best +on Tuesday, and then let us see you on Wednesday. Good-bye.” + +Phineas as he walked across the park towards his club made up his +mind that he would forget the scene by the waterfall. He had never +quite known what it had meant, and he would wipe it away from his +mind altogether. He acknowledged to himself that chivalry did demand +of him that he should never allow himself to think of Lady Laura’s +rash words to him. That she was not happy with her husband was very +clear to him;--but that was altogether another affair. She might be +unhappy with her husband without indulging any guilty love. He had +never thought it possible that she could be happy living with such a +husband as Mr. Kennedy. All that, however, was now past remedy, and +she must simply endure the mode of life which she had prepared for +herself. There were other men and women in London tied together for +better and worse, in reference to whose union their friends knew that +there would be no better;--that it must be all worse. Lady Laura must +bear it, as it was borne by many another married woman. + +On the Monday morning Phineas called at Moroni’s Hotel at ten +o’clock, but in spite of Lady Laura’s assurance to the contrary, he +found that Lord Chiltern was out. He had felt some palpitation at the +heart as he made his inquiry, knowing well the fiery nature of the +man he expected to see. It might be that there would be some actual +personal conflict between him and this half-mad lord before he got +back again into the street. What Lady Laura had said about her +brother did not in the estimation of Phineas make this at all the +less probable. The half-mad lord was so singular in his ways that it +might well be that he should speak handsomely of a rival behind his +back and yet take him by the throat as soon as they were together, +face to face. And yet, as Phineas thought, it was necessary that he +should see the half-mad lord. He had written a letter to which he had +received no reply, and he considered it to be incumbent on him to +ask whether it had been received and whether any answer to it was +intended to be given. He went therefore to Lord Chiltern at once,--as +I have said, with some feeling at his heart that there might be +violence, at any rate of words, before he should find himself again +in the street. But Lord Chiltern was not there. All that the porter +knew was that Lord Chiltern intended to leave the house on the +following morning. Then Phineas wrote a note and left it with the +porter. + + + DEAR CHILTERN, + + I particularly want to see you with reference to a letter + I wrote to you last summer. I must be in the House to-day + from four till the debate is over. I will be at the Reform + Club from two till half-past three, and will come if you + will send for me, or I will meet you anywhere at any hour + to-morrow morning. + + Yours, always, P. F. + + +No message came to him at the Reform Club, and he was in his seat in +the House by four o’clock. During the debate a note was brought to +him, which ran as follows:-- + + + I have got your letter this moment. Of course we must + meet. I hunt on Tuesday, and go down by the early train; + but I will come to town on Wednesday. We shall require to + be private, and I will therefore be at your rooms at one + o’clock on that day.--C. + + +Phineas at once perceived that the note was a hostile note, written +in an angry spirit,--written to one whom the writer did not at the +moment acknowledge to be his friend. This was certainly the case, +whatever Lord Chiltern may have said to his sister as to his +friendship for Phineas. Phineas crushed the note into his pocket, and +of course determined that he would be in his rooms at the hour named. + +The debate was opened by a speech from Mr. Mildmay, in which that +gentleman at great length and with much perspicuity explained his +notion of that measure of Parliamentary Reform which he thought to +be necessary. He was listened to with the greatest attention to the +close,--and perhaps, at the end of his speech, with more attention +than usual, as there had gone abroad a rumour that the Prime Minister +intended to declare that this would be the last effort of his life +in that course. But, if he ever intended to utter such a pledge, his +heart misgave him when the time came for uttering it. He merely said +that as the management of the bill in committee would be an affair +of much labour, and probably spread over many nights, he would be +assisted in his work by his colleagues, and especially by his right +honourable friend the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. It was +then understood that Mr. Gresham would take the lead should the bill +go into committee;--but it was understood also that no resignation of +leadership had been made by Mr. Mildmay. + +The measure now proposed to the House was very much the same as that +which had been brought forward in the last session. The existing +theory of British representation was not to be changed, but the +actual practice was to be brought nearer to the ideal theory. The +ideas of manhood suffrage, and of electoral districts, were to be as +for ever removed from the bulwarks of the British Constitution. There +were to be counties with agricultural constituencies, purposely +arranged to be purely agricultural, whenever the nature of the +counties would admit of its being so. No artificer at Reform, let +him be Conservative or Liberal, can make Middlesex or Lancashire +agricultural; but Wiltshire and Suffolk were to be preserved +inviolable to the plough,--and the apples of Devonshire were still +to have their sway. Every town in the three kingdoms with a certain +population was to have two members. But here there was much room +for cavil,--as all men knew would be the case. Who shall say what +is a town, or where shall be its limits? Bits of counties might be +borrowed, so as to lessen the Conservatism of the county without +endangering the Liberalism of the borough. And then there were the +boroughs with one member,--and then the groups of little boroughs. +In the discussion of any such arrangement how easy is the picking +of holes; how impossible the fabrication of a garment that shall be +impervious to such picking! Then again there was that great question +of the ballot. On that there was to be no mistake. Mr. Mildmay again +pledged himself to disappear from the Treasury bench should any +motion, clause, or resolution be carried by that House in favour of +the ballot. He spoke for three hours, and then left the carcass of +his bill to be fought for by the opposing armies. + +No reader of these pages will desire that the speeches in the debate +should be even indicated. It soon became known that the Conservatives +would not divide the House against the second reading of the bill. +They declared, however, very plainly their intention of so altering +the clauses of the bill in committee,--or at least of attempting so +to do,--as to make the bill their bill, rather than the bill of their +opponents. To this Mr. Palliser replied that as long as nothing vital +was touched, the Government would only be too happy to oblige their +friends opposite. If anything vital were touched, the Government +could only fall back upon their friends on that side. And in this way +men were very civil to each other. But Mr. Turnbull, who opened the +debate on the Tuesday, thundered out an assurance to gods and men +that he would divide the House on the second reading of the bill +itself. He did not doubt but that there were many good men and true +to go with him into the lobby, but into the lobby he would go if he +had no more than a single friend to support him. And he warned the +Sovereign, and he warned the House, and he warned the people of +England, that the measure of Reform now proposed by a so-called +liberal Minister was a measure prepared in concert with the ancient +enemies of the people. He was very loud, very angry, and quite +successful in hallooing down sundry attempts which were made to +interrupt him. “I find,” he said, “that there are many members here +who do not know me yet,--young members, probably, who are green from +the waste lands and road-sides of private life. They will know me +soon, and then, may be, there will be less of this foolish noise, +less of this elongation of unnecessary necks. Our Rome must be +aroused to a sense of its danger by other voices than these.” He +was called to order, but it was ruled that he had not been out of +order,--and he was very triumphant. Mr. Monk answered him, and it +was declared afterwards that Mr. Monk’s speech was one of the finest +pieces of oratory that had ever been uttered in that House. He made +one remark personal to Mr. Turnbull. “I quite agreed with the right +honourable gentleman in the chair,” he said, “when he declared that +the honourable member was not out of order just now. We all of us +agree with him always on such points. The rules of our House have +been laid down with the utmost latitude, so that the course of our +debates may not be frivolously or too easily interrupted. But a +member may be so in order as to incur the displeasure of the House, +and to merit the reproaches of his countrymen.” This little duel +gave great life to the debate; but it was said that those two great +Reformers, Mr. Turnbull and Mr. Monk, could never again meet as +friends. + +In the course of the debate on Tuesday, Phineas got upon his legs. +The reader, I trust, will remember that hitherto he had failed +altogether as a speaker. On one occasion he had lacked even the +spirit to use and deliver an oration which he had prepared. On +a second occasion he had broken down,--woefully, and past all +redemption, as said those who were not his friends,--unfortunately, +but not past redemption, as said those who were his true friends. +After that once again he had arisen and said a few words which had +called for no remark, and had been spoken as though he were in the +habit of addressing the House daily. It may be doubted whether there +were half-a-dozen men now present who recognised the fact that this +man, who was so well known to so many of them, was now about to +make another attempt at a first speech. Phineas himself diligently +attempted to forget that such was the case. He had prepared for +himself a few headings of what he intended to say, and on one or +two points had arranged his words. His hope was that even though +he should forget the words, he might still be able to cling to the +thread of his discourse. When he found himself again upon his legs +amidst those crowded seats, for a few moments there came upon him +that old sensation of awe. Again things grew dim before his eyes, and +again he hardly knew at which end of that long chamber the Speaker +was sitting. But there arose within him a sudden courage, as soon as +the sound of his own voice in that room had made itself intimate to +his ear; and after the first few sentences, all fear, all awe, was +gone from him. When he read his speech in the report afterwards, he +found that he had strayed very wide of his intended course, but he +had strayed without tumbling into ditches, or falling into sunken +pits. He had spoken much from Mr. Monk’s letter, but had had the +grace to acknowledge whence had come his inspiration. He hardly knew, +however, whether he had failed again or not, till Barrington Erle +came up to him as they were leaving the House, with his old easy +pressing manner. “So you have got into form at last,” he said. “I +always thought that it would come. I never for a moment believed +but that it would come sooner or later.” Phineas Finn answered +not a word; but he went home and lay awake all night triumphant. +The verdict of Barrington Erle sufficed to assure him that he had +succeeded. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +A Rough Encounter + + +Phineas, when he woke, had two matters to occupy his mind,--his +success of the previous night, and his coming interview with Lord +Chiltern. He stayed at home the whole morning, knowing that nothing +could be done before the hour Lord Chiltern had named for his visit. +He read every word of the debate, studiously postponing the perusal +of his own speech till he should come to it in due order. And then he +wrote to his father, commencing his letter as though his writing had +no reference to the affairs of the previous night. But he soon found +himself compelled to break into some mention of it. “I send you a +_Times_,” he said, “in order that you may see that I have had my +finger in the pie. I have hitherto abstained from putting myself +forward in the House, partly through a base fear for which I despise +myself, and partly through a feeling of prudence that a man of my age +should not be in a hurry to gather laurels. This is literally true. +There has been the fear, and there has been the prudence. My wonder +is, that I have not incurred more contempt from others because I have +been a coward. People have been so kind to me that I must suppose +them to have judged me more leniently than I have judged myself.” +Then, as he was putting up the paper, he looked again at his own +speech, and of course read every word of it once more. As he did so +it occurred to him that the reporters had been more than courteous to +him. The man who had followed him had been, he thought, at any rate +as long-winded as himself; but to this orator less than half a column +had been granted. To him had been granted ten lines in big type, and +after that a whole column and a half. Let Lord Chiltern come and do +his worst! + +When it wanted but twenty minutes to one, and he was beginning to +think in what way he had better answer the half-mad lord, should the +lord in his wrath be very mad, there came to him a note by the hand +of some messenger. He knew at once that it was from Lady Laura, and +opened it in hot haste. It was as follows:-- + + + DEAR MR. FINN, + + We are all talking about your speech. My father was in + the gallery and heard it,--and said that he had to thank + me for sending you to Loughton. That made me very happy. + Mr. Kennedy declares that you were eloquent, but too + short. That coming from him is praise indeed. I have seen + Barrington, who takes pride to himself that you are his + political child. Violet says that it is the only speech + she ever read. I was there, and was delighted. I was sure + that it was in you to do it. + + Yours, L. K. + + I suppose we shall see you after the House is up, but + I write this as I shall barely have an opportunity of + speaking to you then. I shall be in Portman Square, not + at home, from six till seven. + + +The moment in which Phineas refolded this note and put it into his +breast coat-pocket was, I think, the happiest of his life. Then, +before he had withdrawn his hand from his breast, he remembered that +what was now about to take place between him and Lord Chiltern would +probably be the means of separating him altogether from Lady Laura +and her family. Nay, might it not render it necessary that he should +abandon the seat in Parliament which had been conferred upon him by +the personal kindness of Lord Brentford? Let that be as it might. One +thing was clear to him. He would not abandon Violet Effingham till +he should be desired to do so in the plainest language by Violet +Effingham herself. Looking at his watch he saw that it was one +o’clock, and at that moment Lord Chiltern was announced. + +Phineas went forward immediately with his hand out to meet his +visitor. “Chiltern,” he said, “I am very glad to see you.” But Lord +Chiltern did not take his hand. Passing on to the table, with his hat +still on his head, and with a dark scowl upon his brow, the young +lord stood for a few moments perfectly silent. Then he chucked a +letter across the table to the spot at which Phineas was standing. +Phineas, taking up the letter, perceived that it was that which +he, in his great attempt to be honest, had written from the inn at +Loughton. “It is my own letter to you,” he said. + +“Yes; it is your letter to me. I received it oddly enough together +with your own note at Moroni’s,--on Monday morning. It has been +round the world, I suppose, and reached me only then. You must +withdraw it.” + +“Withdraw it?” + +“Yes, sir, withdraw it. As far as I can learn, without asking any +question which would have committed myself or the young lady, you +have not acted upon it. You have not yet done what you there threaten +to do. In that you have been very wise, and there can be no +difficulty in your withdrawing the letter.” + +“I certainly shall not withdraw it, Lord Chiltern.” + +“Do you remember--what--I once--told you,--about myself and Miss +Effingham?” This question he asked very slowly, pausing between the +words, and looking full into the face of his rival, towards whom he +had gradually come nearer. And his countenance, as he did so, was +by no means pleasant. The redness of his complexion had become more +ruddy than usual; he still wore his hat as though with studied +insolence; his right hand was clenched; and there was that look of +angry purpose in his eye which no man likes to see in the eye of an +antagonist. Phineas was afraid of no violence, personal to himself; +but he was afraid of,--of what I may, perhaps, best call “a row.” +To be tumbling over the chairs and tables with his late friend and +present enemy in Mrs. Bunce’s room would be most unpleasant to him. +If there were to be blows he, too, must strike;--and he was very +averse to strike Lady Laura’s brother, Lord Brentford’s son, Violet +Effingham’s friend. If need be, however, he would strike. + +“I suppose I remember what you mean,” said Phineas. “I think you +declared that you would quarrel with any man who might presume to +address Miss Effingham. Is it that to which you allude?” + +“It is that,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“I remember what you said very well. If nothing else was to deter me +from asking Miss Effingham to be my wife, you will hardly think that +that ought to have any weight. The threat had no weight.” + +“It was not spoken as a threat, sir, and that you know as well as I +do. It was said from a friend to a friend,--as I thought then. But it +is not the less true. I wonder what you can think of faith and truth +and honesty of purpose when you took advantage of my absence,--you, +whom I had told a thousand times that I loved her better than my own +soul! You stand before the world as a rising man, and I stand before +the world as a man--damned. You have been chosen by my father to sit +for our family borough, while I am an outcast from his house. You +have Cabinet Ministers for your friends, while I have hardly a decent +associate left to me in the world. But I can say of myself that I +have never done anything unworthy of a gentleman, while this thing +that you are doing is unworthy of the lowest man.” + +“I have done nothing unworthy,” said Phineas. “I wrote to you +instantly when I had resolved,--though it was painful to me to have +to tell such a secret to any one.” + +“You wrote! Yes; when I was miles distant; weeks, months away. But I +did not come here to bullyrag like an old woman. I got your letter +only on Monday, and know nothing of what has occurred. Is Miss +Effingham to be--your wife?” Lord Chiltern had now come quite close +to Phineas, and Phineas felt that that clenched fist might be in his +face in half a moment. Miss Effingham of course was not engaged to +him, but it seemed to him that if he were now so to declare, such +declaration would appear to have been drawn from him by fear. “I ask +you,” said Lord Chiltern, “in what position you now stand towards +Miss Effingham. If you are not a coward you will tell me.” + +“Whether I tell you or not, you know that I am not a coward,” said +Phineas. + +“I shall have to try,” said Lord Chiltern. “But if you please I will +ask you for an answer to my question.” + +Phineas paused for a moment, thinking what honesty of purpose and +a high spirit would, when combined together, demand of him, and +together with these requirements he felt that he was bound to join +some feeling of duty towards Miss Effingham. Lord Chiltern was +standing there, fiery red, with his hand still clenched, and his hat +still on, waiting for his answer. “Let me have your question again,” +said Phineas, “and I will answer it if I find that I can do so +without loss of self-respect.” + +“I ask you in what position you stand towards Miss Effingham. Mind, +I do not doubt at all, but I choose to have a reply from yourself.” + +“You will remember, of course, that I can only answer to the best of +my belief.” + +“Answer to the best of your belief.” + +“I think she regards me as an intimate friend.” + +“Had you said as an indifferent acquaintance, you would, I think, +have been nearer the mark. But we will let that be. I presume I +may understand that you have given up any idea of changing that +position?” + +“You may understand nothing of the kind, Lord Chiltern.” + +“Why;--what hope have you?” + +“That is another thing. I shall not speak of that;--at any rate not +to you.” + +“Then, sir,--” and now Lord Chiltern advanced another step and raised +his hand as though he were about to put it with some form of violence +on the person of his rival. + +“Stop, Chiltern,” said Phineas, stepping back, so that there was some +article of furniture between him and his adversary. “I do not choose +that there should be a riot here.” + +“What do you call a riot, sir? I believe that after all you are a +poltroon. What I require of you is that you shall meet me. Will you +do that?” + +“You mean,--to fight?” + +“Yes,--to fight; to fight; to fight. For what other purpose do you +suppose that I can wish to meet you?” Phineas felt at the moment that +the fighting of a duel would be destructive to all his political +hopes. Few Englishmen fight duels in these days. They who do so +are always reckoned to be fools. And a duel between him and Lord +Brentford’s son must, as he thought, separate him from Violet, from +Lady Laura, from Lord Brentford, and from his borough. But yet how +could he refuse? “What have you to think of, sir, when such an offer +as that is made to you?” said the fiery-red lord. + +“I have to think whether I have courage enough to refuse to make +myself an ass.” + +“You say that you do not wish to have a riot. That is your way to +escape what you call--a riot.” + +“You want to bully me, Chiltern.” + +“No, sir;--I simply want this, that you should leave me where you +found me, and not interfere with that which you have long known I +claim as my own.” + +“But it is not your own.” + +“Then you can only fight me.” + +“You had better send some friend to me, and I will name some one, +whom he shall meet.” + +“Of course I will do that if I have your promise to meet me. We +can be in Belgium in an hour or two, and back again in a few more +hours;--that is, any one of us who may chance to be alive. + +“I will select a friend, and will tell him everything, and will then +do as he bids me.” + +“Yes;--some old steady-going buffer. Mr. Kennedy, perhaps.” + +“It will certainly not be Mr. Kennedy. I shall probably ask Laurence +Fitzgibbon to manage for me in such an affair.” + +“Perhaps you will see him at once, then, so that Colepepper may +arrange with him this afternoon. And let me assure you, Mr. Finn, +that there will be a meeting between us after some fashion, let the +ideas of your friend Mr. Fitzgibbon be what they may.” Then Lord +Chiltern purposed to go, but turned again as he was going. “And +remember this,” he said, “my complaint is that you have been false to +me,--damnably false; not that you have fallen in love with this young +lady or with that.” Then the fiery-red lord opened the door for +himself and took his departure. + +Phineas, as soon as he was alone, walked down to the House, at which +there was an early sitting. As he went there was one great question +which he had to settle with himself,--Was there any justice in the +charge made against him that he had been false to his friend? When he +had thought over the matter at Saulsby, after rushing down there that +he might throw himself at Violet’s feet, he had assured himself that +such a letter as that which he resolved to write to Lord Chiltern, +would be even chivalrous in its absolute honesty. He would tell his +purpose to Lord Chiltern the moment that his purpose was formed;--and +would afterwards speak of Lord Chiltern behind his back as one +dear friend should speak of another. Had Miss Effingham shown the +slightest intention of accepting Lord Chiltern’s offer, he would have +acknowledged to himself that the circumstances of his position made +it impossible that he should, with honour, become his friend’s rival. +But was he to be debarred for ever from getting that which he wanted +because Lord Chiltern wanted it also,--knowing, as he did so well, +that Lord Chiltern could not get the thing which he wanted? All this +had been quite sufficient for him at Saulsby. But now the charge +against him that he had been false to his friend rang in his ears and +made him unhappy. It certainly was true that Lord Chiltern had not +given up his hopes, and that he had spoken probably more openly to +Phineas respecting them than he had done to any other human being. If +it was true that he had been false, then he must comply with any +requisition which Lord Chiltern might make,--short of voluntarily +giving up the lady. He must fight if he were asked to do so, even +though fighting were his ruin. + +When again in the House yesterday’s scene came back upon him, and +more than one man came to him congratulating him. Mr. Monk took his +hand and spoke a word to him. The old Premier nodded to him. Mr. +Gresham greeted him; and Plantagenet Palliser openly told him that +he had made a good speech. How sweet would all this have been had +there not been ever at his heart the remembrance of his terrible +difficulty,--the consciousness that he was about to be forced into +an absurdity which would put an end to all this sweetness! Why was +the world in England so severe against duelling? After all, as he +regarded the matter now, a duel might be the best way, nay, the only +way out of a difficulty. If he might only be allowed to go out with +Lord Chiltern the whole thing might be arranged. If he were not shot +he might carry on his suit with Miss Effingham unfettered by any +impediment on that side. And if he were shot, what matter was that +to any one but himself? Why should the world be so thin-skinned,--so +foolishly chary of human life? + +Laurence Fitzgibbon did not come to the House, and Phineas looked for +him at both the clubs which he frequented,--leaving a note at each as +he did not find him. He also left a note for him at his lodgings in +Duke Street. “I must see you this evening. I shall dine at the Reform +Club,--pray come there.” After that, Phineas went up to Portman +Square, in accordance with the instructions received from Lady Laura. + +There he saw Violet Effingham, meeting her for the first time since +he had parted from her on the great steps at Saulsby. Of course +he spoke to her, and of course she was gracious to him. But her +graciousness was only a smile and his speech was only a word. There +were many in the room, but not enough to make privacy possible,--as +it becomes possible at a crowded evening meeting. Lord Brentford +was there, and the Bonteens, and Barrington Erle, and Lady Glencora +Palliser, and Lord Cantrip with his young wife. It was manifestly a +meeting of Liberals, semi-social and semi-political;--so arranged +that ladies might feel that some interest in politics was allowed +to them, and perhaps some influence also. Afterwards Mr. Palliser +himself came in. Phineas, however, was most struck by finding that +Laurence Fitzgibbon was there, and that Mr. Kennedy was not. In +regard to Mr. Kennedy, he was quite sure that had such a meeting +taken place before Lady Laura’s marriage, Mr. Kennedy would have +been present. “I must speak to you as we go away,” said Phineas, +whispering a word into Fitzgibbon’s ear. “I have been leaving notes +for you all about the town.” “Not a duel, I hope,” said Fitzgibbon. + +How pleasant it was,--that meeting; or would have been had there not +been that nightmare on his breast! They all talked as though there +were perfect accord between them and perfect confidence. There were +there great men,--Cabinet Ministers, and beautiful women,--the wives +and daughters of some of England’s highest nobles. And Phineas Finn, +throwing back, now and again, a thought to Killaloe, found himself +among them as one of themselves. How could any Mr. Low say that he +was wrong? + +On a sofa near to him, so that he could almost touch her foot with +his, was sitting Violet Effingham, and as he leaned over from his +chair discussing some point in Mr. Mildmay’s bill with that most +inveterate politician, Lady Glencora, Violet looked into his face and +smiled. Oh heavens! If Lord Chiltern and he might only toss up as to +which of them should go to Patagonia and remain there for the next +ten years, and which should have Violet Effingham for a wife in +London! + +“Come along, Phineas, if you mean to come,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon. +Phineas was of course bound to go, though Lady Glencora was still +talking Radicalism, and Violet Effingham was still smiling ineffably. + + + + + +VOLUME II + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +The Duel + + +“I knew it was a duel;--bedad I did,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon, +standing at the corner of Orchard Street and Oxford Street, when +Phineas had half told his story. “I was sure of it from the tone of +your voice, my boy. We mustn’t let it come off, that’s all;--not +if we can help it.” Then Phineas was allowed to proceed and finish +his story. “I don’t see any way out of it; I don’t, indeed,” said +Laurence. By this time Phineas had come to think that the duel was in +very truth the best way out of the difficulty. It was a bad way out, +but then it was a way;--and he could not see any other. “As for ill +treating him, that’s nonsense,” said Laurence. “What are the girls to +do, if one fellow mayn’t come on as soon as another fellow is down? +But then, you see, a fellow never knows when he’s down himself, and +therefore he thinks that he’s ill used. I’ll tell you what now. I +shouldn’t wonder if we couldn’t do it on the sly,--unless one of you +is stupid enough to hit the other in an awkward place. If you are +certain of your hand now, the right shoulder is the best spot.” +Phineas felt very certain that he would not hit Lord Chiltern in an +awkward place, although he was by no means sure of his hand. Let come +what might, he would not aim at his adversary. But of this he had +thought it proper to say nothing to Laurence Fitzgibbon. + +And the duel did come off on the sly. The meeting in the drawing-room +in Portman Square, of which mention was made in the last chapter, +took place on a Wednesday afternoon. On the Thursday, Friday, Monday, +and Tuesday following, the great debate on Mr. Mildmay’s bill was +continued, and at three on the Tuesday night the House divided. There +was a majority in favour of the Ministers, not large enough to permit +them to claim a triumph for their party, or even an ovation for +themselves; but still sufficient to enable them to send their bill +into committee. Mr. Daubeny and Mr. Turnbull had again joined +their forces together in opposition to the ministerial measure. On +the Thursday Phineas had shown himself in the House, but during +the remainder of this interesting period he was absent from his +place, nor was he seen at the clubs, nor did any man know of his +whereabouts. I think that Lady Laura Kennedy was the first to miss +him with any real sense of his absence. She would now go to Portman +Square on the afternoon of every Sunday,--at which time her husband +was attending the second service of his church,--and there she would +receive those whom she called her father’s guests. But as her father +was never there on the Sundays, and as these gatherings had been +created by herself, the reader will probably think that she was +obeying her husband’s behests in regard to the Sabbath after a very +indifferent fashion. The reader may be quite sure, however, that Mr. +Kennedy knew well what was being done in Portman Square. Whatever +might be Lady Laura’s faults, she did not commit the fault of +disobeying her husband in secret. There were, probably, a few words +on the subject; but we need not go very closely into that matter at +the present moment. + +On the Sunday which afforded some rest in the middle of the great +Reform debate Lady Laura asked for Mr. Finn, and no one could answer +her question. And then it was remembered that Laurence Fitzgibbon +was also absent. Barrington Erle knew nothing of Phineas,--had heard +nothing; but was able to say that Fitzgibbon had been with Mr. +Ratler, the patronage secretary and liberal whip, early on Thursday, +expressing his intention of absenting himself for two days. Mr. +Ratler had been wroth, bidding him remain at his duty, and pointing +out to him the great importance of the moment. Then Barrington Erle +quoted Laurence Fitzgibbon’s reply. “My boy,” said Laurence to poor +Ratler, “the path of duty leads but to the grave. All the same; I’ll +be in at the death, Ratler, my boy, as sure as the sun’s in heaven.” +Not ten minutes after the telling of this little story, Fitzgibbon +entered the room in Portman Square, and Lady Laura at once asked him +after Phineas. “Bedad, Lady Laura, I have been out of town myself for +two days, and I know nothing.” + +“Mr. Finn has not been with you, then?” + +“With me! No,--not with me. I had a job of business of my own which +took me over to Paris. And has Phinny fled too? Poor Ratler! I +shouldn’t wonder if it isn’t an asylum he’s in before the session is +over.” + +Laurence Fitzgibbon certainly possessed the rare accomplishment of +telling a lie with a good grace. Had any man called him a liar he +would have considered himself to be not only insulted, but injured +also. He believed himself to be a man of truth. There were, however, +in his estimation certain subjects on which a man might depart as +wide as the poles are asunder from truth without subjecting himself +to any ignominy for falsehood. In dealing with a tradesman as to his +debts, or with a rival as to a lady, or with any man or woman in +defence of a lady’s character, or in any such matter as that of a +duel, Laurence believed that a gentleman was bound to lie, and that +he would be no gentleman if he hesitated to do so. Not the slightest +prick of conscience disturbed him when he told Lady Laura that he +had been in Paris, and that he knew nothing of Phineas Finn. But, in +truth, during the last day or two he had been in Flanders, and not in +Paris, and had stood as second with his friend Phineas on the sands +at Blankenberg, a little fishing-town some twelve miles distant +from Bruges, and had left his friend since that at an hotel at +Ostend,--with a wound just under the shoulder, from which a bullet +had been extracted. + +The manner of the meeting had been in this wise. Captain Colepepper +and Laurence Fitzgibbon had held their meeting, and at this meeting +Laurence had taken certain standing-ground on behalf of his friend, +and in obedience to his friend’s positive instruction;--which was +this, that his friend could not abandon his right of addressing the +young lady, should he hereafter ever think fit to do so. Let that +be granted, and Laurence would do anything. But then that could not +be granted, and Laurence could only shrug his shoulders. Nor would +Laurence admit that his friend had been false. “The question lies in +a nutshell,” said Laurence, with that sweet Connaught brogue which +always came to him when he desired to be effective;--“here it is. One +gentleman tells another that he’s sweet upon a young lady, but that +the young lady has refused him, and always will refuse him, for ever +and ever. That’s the truth anyhow. Is the second gentleman bound by +that not to address the young lady? I say he is not bound. It’d be a +d----d hard tratement, Captain Colepepper, if a man’s mouth and all +the ardent affections of his heart were to be stopped in that manner! +By Jases, I don’t know who’d like to be the friend of any man if +that’s to be the way of it.” + +Captain Colepepper was not very good at an argument. “I think they’d +better see each other,” said Colepepper, pulling his thick grey +moustache. + +“If you choose to have it so, so be it. But I think it the hardest +thing in the world;--I do indeed.” Then they put their heads together +in the most friendly way, and declared that the affair should, if +possible, be kept private. + +On the Thursday night Lord Chiltern and Captain Colepepper went over +by Calais and Lille to Bruges. Laurence Fitzgibbon, with his friend +Dr. O’Shaughnessy, crossed by the direct boat from Dover to Ostend. +Phineas went to Ostend by Dover and Calais, but he took the day +route on Friday. It had all been arranged among them, so that there +might be no suspicion as to the job in hand. Even O’Shaughnessy and +Laurence Fitzgibbon had left London by separate trains. They met on +the sands at Blankenberg about nine o’clock on the Saturday morning, +having reached that village in different vehicles from Ostend and +Bruges, and had met quite unobserved amidst the sand-heaps. But one +shot had been exchanged, and Phineas had been wounded in the right +shoulder. He had proposed to exchange another shot with his left +hand, declaring his capability of shooting quite as well with the +left as with the right; but to this both Colepepper and Fitzgibbon +had objected. Lord Chiltern had offered to shake hands with his late +friend in a true spirit of friendship, if only his late friend would +say that he did not intend to prosecute his suit with the young lady. +In all these disputes the young lady’s name was never mentioned. +Phineas indeed had not once named Violet to Fitzgibbon, speaking of +her always as the lady in question; and though Laurence correctly +surmised the identity of the young lady, he never hinted that he had +even guessed her name. I doubt whether Lord Chiltern had been so wary +when alone with Captain Colepepper; but then Lord Chiltern was, when +he spoke at all, a very plain-spoken man. Of course his lordship’s +late friend Phineas would give no such pledge, and therefore Lord +Chiltern moved off the ground and back to Blankenberg and Bruges, and +into Brussels, in still living enmity with our hero. Laurence and the +doctor took Phineas back to Ostend, and though the bullet was then in +his shoulder, Phineas made his way through Blankenberg after such a +fashion that no one there knew what had occurred. Not a living soul, +except the five concerned, was at that time aware that a duel had +been fought among the sand-hills. + +Laurence Fitzgibbon made his way to Dover by the Saturday night’s +boat, and was able to show himself in Portman Square on the Sunday. +“Know anything about Phinny Finn?” he said afterwards to Barrington +Erle, in answer to an inquiry from that anxious gentleman. “Not +a word! I think you’d better send the town-crier round after +him.” Barrington, however, did not feel quite so well assured of +Fitzgibbon’s truth as Lady Laura had done. + +Dr. O’Shaughnessy remained during the Sunday and Monday at Ostend +with his patient, and the people at the inn only knew that Mr. Finn +had sprained his shoulder badly; and on the Tuesday they came back +to London again, via Calais and Dover. No bone had been broken, and +Phineas, though his shoulder was very painful, bore the journey well. +O’Shaughnessy had received a telegram on the Monday, telling him that +the division would certainly take place on the Tuesday,--and on the +Tuesday, at about ten in the evening, Phineas went down to the House. +“By ----, you’re here,” said Ratler, taking hold of him with an +affection that was too warm. “Yes; I’m here,” said Phineas, wincing +in agony; “but be a little careful, there’s a good fellow. I’ve been +down in Kent and put my arm out.” + +“Put your arm out, have you?” said Ratler, observing the sling for +the first time. “I’m sorry for that. But you’ll stop and vote?” + +“Yes;--I’ll stop and vote. I’ve come up for the purpose. But I hope +it won’t be very late.” + +“There are both Daubeny and Gresham to speak yet, and at least three +others. I don’t suppose it will be much before three. But you’re +all right now. You can go down and smoke if you like!” In this way +Phineas Finn spoke in the debate, and heard the end of it, voting for +his party, and fought his duel with Lord Chiltern in the middle of +it. + +He did go and sit on a well-cushioned bench in the smoking-room, and +then was interrogated by many of his friends as to his mysterious +absence. He had, he said, been down in Kent, and had had an accident +with his arm, by which he had been confined. When this questioner and +that perceived that there was some little mystery in the matter, the +questioners did not push their questions, but simply entertained +their own surmises. One indiscreet questioner, however, did trouble +Phineas sorely, declaring that there must have been some affair in +which a woman had had a part, and asking after the young lady of +Kent. This indiscreet questioner was Laurence Fitzgibbon, who, as +Phineas thought, carried his spirit of intrigue a little too far. +Phineas stayed and voted, and then he went painfully home to his +lodgings. + +How singular would it be if this affair of the duel should pass away, +and no one be a bit the wiser but those four men who had been with +him on the sands at Blankenberg! Again he wondered at his own luck. +He had told himself that a duel with Lord Chiltern must create +a quarrel between him and Lord Chiltern’s relations, and also +between him and Violet Effingham; that it must banish him from +his comfortable seat for Loughton, and ruin him in regard to his +political prospects. And now he had fought his duel, and was back in +town,--and the thing seemed to have been a thing of nothing. He had +not as yet seen Lady Laura or Violet, but he had no doubt but they +both were as much in the dark as other people. The day might arrive, +he thought, on which it would be pleasant for him to tell Violet +Effingham what had occurred, but that day had not come as yet. +Whither Lord Chiltern had gone, or what Lord Chiltern intended to +do, he had not any idea; but he imagined that he should soon hear +something of her brother from Lady Laura. That Lord Chiltern should +say a word to Lady Laura of what had occurred,--or to any other +person in the world,--he did not in the least suspect. There could +be no man more likely to be reticent in such matters than Lord +Chiltern,--or more sure to be guided by an almost exaggerated sense +of what honour required of him. Nor did he doubt the discretion of +his friend Fitzgibbon;--if only his friend might not damage the +secret by being too discreet. Of the silence of the doctor and the +captain he was by no means equally sure; but even though they should +gossip, the gossiping would take so long a time in oozing out and +becoming recognised information, as to have lost much of its power +for injuring him. Were Lady Laura to hear at this moment that he +had been over to Belgium, and had fought a duel with Lord Chiltern +respecting Violet, she would probably feel herself obliged to quarrel +with him; but no such obligation would rest on her, if in the course +of six or nine months she should gradually have become aware that +such an encounter had taken place. + +Lord Chiltern, during their interview at the rooms in Great +Marlborough Street, had said a word to him about the seat in +Parliament;--had expressed some opinion that as he, Phineas Finn, was +interfering with the views of the Standish family in regard to Miss +Effingham, he ought not to keep the Standish seat, which had been +conferred upon him in ignorance of any such intended interference. +Phineas, as he thought of this, could not remember Lord Chiltern’s +words, but there was present to him an idea that such had been their +purport. Was he bound, in circumstances as they now existed, to give +up Loughton? He made up his mind that he was not so bound unless +Lord Chiltern should demand from him that he should do so; but, +nevertheless, he was uneasy in his position. It was quite true that +the seat now was his for this session by all parliamentary law, even +though the electors themselves might wish to be rid of him, and that +Lord Brentford could not even open his mouth upon the matter in a +tone more loud than that of a whisper. But Phineas, feeling that +he had consented to accept the favour of a corrupt seat from Lord +Brentford, felt also that he was bound to give up the spoil if it +were demanded from him. If it were demanded from him, either by the +father or the son, it should be given up at once. + +On the following morning he found a leading article in the _People’s +Banner_ devoted solely to himself. “During the late debate,”--so ran +a passage in the leading article,--“Mr. Finn, Lord Brentford’s Irish +nominee for his pocket-borough at Loughton, did at last manage to +stand on his legs and open his mouth. If we are not mistaken, this +is Mr. Finn’s third session in Parliament, and hitherto he has been +unable to articulate three sentences, though he has on more than one +occasion made the attempt. For what special merit this young man has +been selected for aristocratic patronage we do not know,--but that +there must be some merit recognisable by aristocratic eyes, we +surmise. Three years ago he was a raw young Irishman, living in +London as Irishmen only know how to live, earning nothing, and +apparently without means; and then suddenly he bursts out as a member +of Parliament and as the friend of Cabinet Ministers. The possession +of one good gift must be acceded to the honourable member for +Loughton,--he is a handsome young man, and looks to be as strong as +a coal-porter. Can it be that his promotion has sprung from this? Be +this as it may, we should like to know where he has been during his +late mysterious absence from Parliament, and in what way he came by +the wound in his arm. Even handsome young members of Parliament, +fêted by titled ladies and their rich lords, are amenable to the +laws,--to the laws of this country, and to the laws of any other +which it may suit them to visit for a while!” + +“Infamous scoundrel!” said Phineas to himself, as he read this. +“Vile, low, disreputable blackguard!” It was clear enough, however, +that Quintus Slide had found out something of his secret. If so, his +only hope would rest on the fact that his friends were not likely to +see the columns of the _People’s Banner_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +Lady Laura Is Told + + +By the time that Mr. Mildmay’s great bill was going into committee +Phineas was able to move about London in comfort,--with his arm, +however, still in a sling. There had been nothing more about him and +his wound in the _People’s Banner_, and he was beginning to hope that +that nuisance would also be allowed to die away. He had seen Lady +Laura,--having dined in Grosvenor Place, where he had been petted +to his heart’s content. His dinner had been cut up for him, and his +wound had been treated with the tenderest sympathy. And, singular to +say, no questions were asked. He had been to Kent and had come by +an accident. No more than that was told, and his dear sympathising +friends were content to receive so much information, and to ask for +no more. But he had not as yet seen Violet Effingham, and he was +beginning to think that this romance about Violet might as well be +brought to a close. He had not, however, as yet been able to go into +crowded rooms, and unless he went out to large parties he could not +be sure that he would meet Miss Effingham. + +At last he resolved that he would tell Lady Laura the whole +truth,--not the truth about the duel, but the truth about Violet +Effingham, and ask for her assistance. When making this resolution, I +think that he must have forgotten much that he had learned of his +friend’s character; and by making it, I think that he showed also +that he had not learned as much as his opportunities might have +taught him. He knew Lady Laura’s obstinacy of purpose, he knew her +devotion to her brother, and he knew also how desirous she had been +that her brother should win Violet Effingham for himself. This +knowledge should, I think, have sufficed to show him how improbable +it was that Lady Laura should assist him in his enterprise. But +beyond all this was the fact,--a fact as to the consequences of which +Phineas himself was entirely blind, beautifully ignorant,--that Lady +Laura had once condescended to love himself. Nay;--she had gone +farther than this, and had ventured to tell him, even after her +marriage, that the remembrance of some feeling that had once dwelt in +her heart in regard to him was still a danger to her. She had warned +him from Loughlinter, and then had received him in London;--and now +he selected her as his confidante in this love affair! Had he not +been beautifully ignorant and most modestly blind, he would surely +have placed his confidence elsewhere. + +It was not that Lady Laura Kennedy ever confessed to herself the +existence of a vicious passion. She had, indeed, learned to tell +herself that she could not love her husband; and once, in the +excitement of such silent announcements to herself, she had asked +herself whether her heart was quite a blank, and had answered herself +by desiring Phineas Finn to absent himself from Loughlinter. During +all the subsequent winter she had scourged herself inwardly for her +own imprudence, her quite unnecessary folly in so doing. What! could +not she, Laura Standish, who from her earliest years of girlish +womanhood had resolved that she would use the world as men use it, +and not as women do,--could not she have felt the slight shock of +a passing tenderness for a handsome youth without allowing the +feeling to be a rock before her big enough and sharp enough for the +destruction of her entire barque? Could not she command, if not her +heart, at any rate her mind, so that she might safely assure herself +that, whether this man or any man was here or there, her course would +be unaltered? What though Phineas Finn had been in the same house +with her throughout all the winter, could not she have so lived with +him on terms of friendship, that every deed and word and look of her +friendship might have been open to her husband,--or open to all +the world? She could have done so. She told herself that that was +not,--need not have been her great calamity. Whether she could endure +the dull, monotonous control of her slow but imperious lord,--or +whether she must not rather tell him that it was not to be +endured,--that was her trouble. So she told herself, and again +admitted Phineas to her intimacy in London. But, nevertheless, +Phineas, had he not been beautifully ignorant and most blind to his +own achievements, would not have expected from Lady Laura Kennedy +assistance with Miss Violet Effingham. + +Phineas knew when to find Lady Laura alone, and he came upon her one +day at the favourable hour. The two first clauses of the bill had +been passed after twenty fights and endless divisions. Two points had +been settled, as to which, however, Mr. Gresham had been driven to +give way so far and to yield so much, that men declared that such +a bill as the Government could consent to call its own could never +be passed by that Parliament in that session. Immediately on his +entrance into her room Lady Laura began about the third clause. Would +the House let Mr. Gresham have his way about the--? Phineas stopped +her at once. “My dear friend,” he said, “I have come to you in a +private trouble, and I want you to drop politics for half an hour. I +have come to you for help.” + +“A private trouble, Mr. Finn! Is it serious?” + +“It is very serious,--but it is no trouble of the kind of which you +are thinking. But it is serious enough to take up every thought.” + +“Can I help you?” + +“Indeed you can. Whether you will or no is a different thing.” + +“I would help you in anything in my power, Mr. Finn. Do you not know +it?” + +“You have been very kind to me!” + +“And so would Mr. Kennedy.” + +“Mr. Kennedy cannot help me here.” + +“What is it, Mr. Finn?” + +“I suppose I may as well tell you at once,--in plain language, I do +not know how to put my story into words that shall fit it. I love +Violet Effingham. Will you help me to win her to be my wife?” + +“You love Violet Effingham!” said Lady Laura. And as she spoke the +look of her countenance towards him was so changed that he became at +once aware that from her no assistance might be expected. His eyes +were not opened in any degree to the second reason above given for +Lady Laura’s opposition to his wishes, but he instantly perceived +that she would still cling to that destination of Violet’s hand which +had for years past been the favourite scheme of her life. “Have you +not always known, Mr. Finn, what have been our hopes for Violet?” + +Phineas, though he had perceived his mistake, felt that he must go +on with his cause. Lady Laura must know his wishes sooner or later, +and it was as well that she should learn them in this way as in +any other. “Yes;--but I have known also, from your brother’s own +lips,--and indeed from yours also, Lady Laura,--that Chiltern has +been three times refused by Miss Effingham.” + +“What does that matter? Do men never ask more than three times?” + +“And must I be debarred for ever while he prosecutes a hopeless +suit?” + +“Yes;--you of all men.” + +“Why so, Lady Laura?” + +“Because in this matter you have been his chosen friend,--and mine. +We have told you everything, trusting to you. We have believed in +your honour. We have thought that with you, at any rate, we were +safe.” These words were very bitter to Phineas, and yet when he had +written his letter at Loughton, he had intended to be so perfectly +honest, chivalrously honest! Now Lady Laura spoke to him and looked +at him as though he had been most basely false--most untrue to that +noble friendship which had been lavished upon him by all her family. +He felt that he would become the prey of her most injurious thoughts +unless he could fully explain his ideas, and he felt, also, that the +circumstances did not admit of his explaining them. He could not take +up the argument on Violet’s side, and show how unfair it would be to +her that she should be debarred from the homage due to her by any man +who really loved her, because Lord Chiltern chose to think that he +still had a claim,--or at any rate a chance. And Phineas knew well +of himself,--or thought that he knew well,--that he would not have +interfered had there been any chance for Lord Chiltern. Lord Chiltern +had himself told him more than once that there was no such chance. +How was he to explain all this to Lady Laura? “Mr. Finn,” said Lady +Laura, “I can hardly believe this of you, even when you tell it me +yourself.” + +“Listen to me, Lady Laura, for a moment.” + +“Certainly, I will listen. But that you should come to me for +assistance! I cannot understand it. Men sometimes become harder than +stones.” + +“I do not think that I am hard.” Poor blind fool! He was still +thinking only of Violet, and of the accusation made against him that +he was untrue to his friendship for Lord Chiltern. Of that other +accusation which could not be expressed in open words he understood +nothing,--nothing at all as yet. + +“Hard and false,--capable of receiving no impression beyond the +outside husk of the heart.” + +“Oh, Lady Laura, do not say that. If you could only know how true I +am in my affection for you all.” + +“And how do you show it?--by coming in between Oswald and the only +means that are open to us of reconciling him to his father;--means +that have been explained to you exactly as though you had been one of +ourselves. Oswald has treated you as a brother in the matter, telling +you everything, and this is the way you would repay him for his +confidence!” + +“Can I help it, that I have learnt to love this girl?” + +“Yes, sir,--you can help it. What if she had been Oswald’s +wife;--would you have loved her then? Do you speak of loving a woman +as if it were an affair of fate, over which you have no control? I +doubt whether your passions are so strong as that. You had better put +aside your love for Miss Effingham. I feel assured that it will never +hurt you.” Then some remembrance of what had passed between him and +Lady Laura Standish near the falls of the Linter, when he first +visited Scotland, came across his mind. “Believe me,” she said with a +smile, “this little wound in your heart will soon be cured.” + +He stood silent before her, looking away from her, thinking over it +all. He certainly had believed himself to be violently in love with +Lady Laura, and yet when he had just now entered her drawing-room, he +had almost forgotten that there had been such a passage in his life. +And he had believed that she had forgotten it,--even though she +had counselled him not to come to Loughlinter within the last nine +months! He had been a boy then, and had not known himself;--but now +he was a man, and was proud of the intensity of his love. There came +upon him some passing throb of pain from his shoulder, reminding him +of the duel, and he was proud also of that. He had been willing to +risk everything,--life, prospects, and position,--sooner than abandon +the slight hope which was his of possessing Violet Effingham. And now +he was told that this wound in his heart would soon be cured, and +was told so by a woman to whom he had once sung a song of another +passion. It is very hard to answer a woman in such circumstances, +because her womanhood gives her so strong a ground of vantage! Lady +Laura might venture to throw in his teeth the fickleness of his +heart, but he could not in reply tell her that to change a love was +better than to marry without love,--that to be capable of such a +change showed no such inferiority of nature as did the capacity for +such a marriage. She could hit him with her argument; but he could +only remember his, and think how violent might be the blow he could +inflict,--if it were not that she were a woman, and therefore +guarded. “You will not help me then?” he said, when they had both +been silent for a while. + +“Help you? How should I help you?” + +“I wanted no other help than this,--that I might have had an +opportunity of meeting Violet here, and of getting from her some +answer.” + +“Has the question then never been asked already?” said Lady Laura. +To this Phineas made no immediate reply. There was no reason why he +should show his whole hand to an adversary. “Why do you not go to +Lady Baldock’s house?” continued Lady Laura. “You are admitted there. +You know Lady Baldock. Go and ask her to stand your friend with her +niece. See what she will say to you. As far as I understand these +matters, that is the fair, honourable, open way in which gentlemen +are wont to make their overtures.” + +“I would make mine to none but to herself,” said Phineas. + +“Then why have you made it to me, sir?” demanded Lady Laura. + +“I have come to you as I would to my sister.” + +“Your sister? Psha! I am not your sister, Mr. Finn. Nor, were I so, +should I fail to remember that I have a dearer brother to whom my +faith is pledged. Look here. Within the last three weeks Oswald has +sacrificed everything to his father, because he was determined that +Mr. Kennedy should have the money which he thought was due to my +husband. He has enabled my father to do what he will with Saulsby. +Papa will never hurt him;--I know that. Hard as papa is with him, he +will never hurt Oswald’s future position. Papa is too proud to do +that. Violet has heard what Oswald has done; and now that he has +nothing of his own to offer her for the future but his bare title, +now that he has given papa power to do what he will with the +property, I believe that she would accept him instantly. That is her +disposition.” + +Phineas again paused a moment before he replied. “Let him try,” he +said. + +“He is away,--in Brussels.” + +“Send to him, and bid him return. I will be patient, Lady Laura. Let +him come and try, and I will bide my time. I confess that I have no +right to interfere with him if there be a chance for him. If there is +no chance, my right is as good as that of any other.” + +There was something in this which made Lady Laura feel that she +could not maintain her hostility against this man on behalf of her +brother;--and yet she could not force herself to be other than +hostile to him. Her heart was sore, and it was he that had made +it sore. She had lectured herself, schooling herself with mental +sackcloth and ashes, rebuking herself with heaviest censures from day +to day, because she had found herself to be in danger of regarding +this man with a perilous love; and she had been constant in this +work of penance till she had been able to assure herself that the +sackcloth and ashes had done their work, and that the danger was +past. “I like him still and love him well,” she had said to herself +with something almost of triumph, “but I have ceased to think of him +as one who might have been my lover.” And yet she was now sick and +sore, almost beside herself with the agony of the wound, because this +man whom she had been able to throw aside from her heart had also +been able so to throw her aside. And she felt herself constrained to +rebuke him with what bitterest words she might use. She had felt it +easy to do this at first, on her brother’s score. She had accused him +of treachery to his friendship,--both as to Oswald and as to herself. +On that she could say cutting words without subjecting herself to +suspicion even from herself. But now this power was taken away from +her, and still she wished to wound him. She desired to taunt him +with his old fickleness, and yet to subject herself to no imputation. +“Your right!” she said. “What gives you any right in the matter?” + +“Simply the right of a fair field, and no favour.” + +“And yet you come to me for favour,--to me, because I am her friend. +You cannot win her yourself, and think I may help you! I do not +believe in your love for her. There! If there were no other reason, +and I could help you, I would not, because I think your heart is a +sham heart. She is pretty, and has money--” + +“Lady Laura!” + +“She is pretty, and has money, and is the fashion. I do not wonder +that you should wish to have her. But, Mr. Finn, I believe that +Oswald really loves her;--and that you do not. His nature is deeper +than yours.” + +He understood it all now as he listened to the tone of her voice, and +looked into the lines of her face. There was written there plainly +enough that spretæ injuria formæ of which she herself was conscious, +but only conscious. Even his eyes, blind as he had been, were +opened,--and he knew that he had been a fool. + +“I am sorry that I came to you,” he said. + +“It would have been better that you should not have done so,” she +replied. + +“And yet perhaps it is well that there should be no misunderstanding +between us.” + +“Of course I must tell my brother.” + +He paused but for a moment, and then he answered her with a sharp +voice, “He has been told.” + +“And who told him?” + +“I did. I wrote to him the moment that I knew my own mind. I owed it +to him to do so. But my letter missed him, and he only learned it the +other day.” + +“Have you seen him since?” + +“Yes;--I have seen him.” + +“And what did he say? How did he take it? Did he bear it from you +quietly?” + +“No, indeed;” and Phineas smiled as he spoke. + +“Tell me, Mr. Finn; what happened? What is to be done?” + +“Nothing is to be done. Everything has been done. I may as well +tell you all. I am sure that for the sake of me, as well as of your +brother, you will keep our secret. He required that I should either +give up my suit, or that I should,--fight him. As I could not comply +with the one request, I found myself bound to comply with the other.” + +“And there has been a duel?” + +“Yes;--there has been a duel. We went over to Belgium, and it was +soon settled. He wounded me here in the arm.” + +“Suppose you had killed him, Mr. Finn?” + +“That, Lady Laura, would have been a misfortune so terrible that I +was bound to prevent it.” Then he paused again, regretting what he +had said. “You have surprised me, Lady Laura, into an answer that I +should not have made. I may be sure,--may I not,--that my words will +not go beyond yourself?” + +“Yes;--you may be sure of that.” This she said plaintively, with a +tone of voice and demeanour of body altogether different from that +which she lately bore. Neither of them knew what was taking place +between them; but she was, in truth, gradually submitting herself +again to this man’s influence. Though she rebuked him at every turn +for what he said, for what he had done, for what he proposed to do, +still she could not teach herself to despise him, or even to cease to +love him for any part of it. She knew it all now,--except that word +or two which had passed between Violet and Phineas in the rides of +Saulsby Park. But she suspected something even of that, feeling sure +that the only matter on which Phineas would say nothing would be +that of his own success,--if success there had been. “And so you and +Oswald have quarrelled, and there has been a duel. That is why you +were away?” + +“That is why I was away.” + +“How wrong of you,--how very wrong! Had he been,--killed, how could +you have looked us in the face again?” + +“I could not have looked you in the face again.” + +“But that is over now. And were you friends afterwards?” + +“No;--we did not part as friends. Having gone there to fight with +him,--most unwillingly,--I could not afterwards promise him that I +would give up Miss Effingham. You say she will accept him now. Let +him come and try.” She had nothing further to say,--no other argument +to use. There was the soreness at her heart still present to her, +making her wretched, instigating her to hurt him if she knew how to +do so, in spite of her regard for him. But she felt that she was weak +and powerless. She had shot her arrows at him,--all but one,--and if +she used that, its poisoned point would wound herself far more surely +than it would touch him. “The duel was very silly,” he said. “You +will not speak of it.” + +“No; certainly not.” + +“I am glad at least that I have told you everything.” + +“I do not know why you should be glad. I cannot help you.” + +“And you will say nothing to Violet?” + +“Everything that I can say in Oswald’s favour. I will say nothing of +the duel; but beyond that you have no right to demand my secrecy with +her. Yes; you had better go, Mr. Finn, for I am hardly well. And +remember this,--If you can forget this little episode about Miss +Effingham, so will I forget it also; and so will Oswald. I can +promise for him.” Then she smiled and gave him her hand, and he went. + +She rose from her chair as he left the room, and waited till she +heard the sound of the great door closing behind him before she again +sat down. Then, when he was gone,--when she was sure that he was no +longer there with her in the same house,--she laid her head down upon +the arm of the sofa, and burst into a flood of tears. She was no +longer angry with Phineas. There was no further longing in her heart +for revenge. She did not now desire to injure him, though she had +done so as long as he was with her. Nay,--she resolved instantly, +almost instinctively, that Lord Brentford must know nothing of all +this, lest the political prospects of the young member for Loughton +should be injured. To have rebuked him, to rebuke him again and +again, would be only fair,--would at least be womanly; but she +would protect him from all material injury as far as her power of +protection might avail. And why was she weeping now so bitterly? +Of course she asked herself, as she rubbed away the tears with her +hands,--Why should she weep? She was not weak enough to tell herself +that she was weeping for any injury that had been done to Oswald. +She got up suddenly from the sofa, and pushed away her hair from her +face, and pushed away the tears from her cheeks, and then clenched +her fists as she held them out at full length from her body, and +stood, looking up with her eyes fixed upon the wall. “Ass!” she +exclaimed. “Fool! Idiot! That I should not be able to crush it into +nothing and have done with it! Why should he not have her? After all, +he is better than Oswald. Oh,--is that you?” The door of the room had +been opened while she was standing thus, and her husband had entered. + +“Yes,--it is I. Is anything wrong?” + +“Very much is wrong.” + +“What is it, Laura?” + +“You cannot help me.” + +“If you are in trouble you should tell me what it is, and leave it to +me to try to help you.” + +“Nonsense!” she said, shaking her head. + +“Laura, that is uncourteous,--not to say undutiful also.” + +“I suppose it was,--both. I beg your pardon, but I could not help +it.” + +“Laura, you should help such words to me.” + +“There are moments, Robert, when even a married woman must be +herself rather than her husband’s wife. It is so, though you cannot +understand it.” + +“I certainly do not understand it.” + +“You cannot make a woman subject to you as a dog is so. You may have +all the outside and as much of the inside as you can master. With a +dog you may be sure of both.” + +“I suppose this means that you have secrets in which I am not to +share.” + +“I have troubles about my father and my brother which you cannot +share. My brother is a ruined man.” + +“Who ruined him?” + +“I will not talk about it any more. I will not speak to you of him or +of papa. I only want you to understand that there is a subject which +must be secret to myself, and on which I may be allowed to shed +tears,--if I am so weak. I will not trouble you on a matter in which +I have not your sympathy.” Then she left him, standing in the middle +of the room, depressed by what had occurred,--but not thinking of it +as of a trouble which would do more than make him uncomfortable for +that day. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +Madame Max Goesler + + +Day after day, and clause after clause, the bill was fought in +committee, and few men fought with more constancy on the side of the +Ministers than did the member for Loughton. Troubled though he was by +his quarrel with Lord Chiltern, by his love for Violet Effingham, by +the silence of his friend Lady Laura,--for since he had told her of +the duel she had become silent to him, never writing to him, and +hardly speaking to him when she met him in society,--nevertheless +Phineas was not so troubled but what he could work at his vocation. +Now, when he would find himself upon his legs in the House, he would +wonder at the hesitation which had lately troubled him so sorely. He +would sit sometimes and speculate upon that dimness of eye, upon that +tendency of things to go round, upon that obtrusive palpitation of +heart, which had afflicted him so seriously for so long a time. The +House now was no more to him than any other chamber, and the members +no more than other men. He guarded himself from orations, speaking +always very shortly,--because he believed that policy and good +judgment required that he should be short. But words were very easy +to him, and he would feel as though he could talk for ever. And there +quickly came to him a reputation for practical usefulness. He was a +man with strong opinions, who could yet be submissive. And no man +seemed to know how his reputation had come. He had made one good +speech after two or three failures. All who knew him, his whole +party, had been aware of his failure; and his one good speech had +been regarded by many as no very wonderful effort. But he was a man +who was pleasant to other men,--not combative, not self-asserting +beyond the point at which self-assertion ceases to be a necessity of +manliness. Nature had been very good to him, making him comely inside +and out,--and with this comeliness he had crept into popularity. + +The secret of the duel was, I think, at this time, known to a great +many men and women. So Phineas perceived; but it was not, he thought, +known either to Lord Brentford or to Violet Effingham. And in this +he was right. No rumour of it had yet reached the ears of either of +these persons;--and rumour, though she flies so fast and so far, is +often slow in reaching those ears which would be most interested in +her tidings. Some dim report of the duel reached even Mr. Kennedy, +and he asked his wife. “Who told you?” said she, sharply. + +“Bonteen told me that it was certainly so.” + +“Mr. Bonteen always knows more than anybody else about everything +except his own business.” + +“Then it is not true?” + +Lady Laura paused,--and then she lied. “Of course it is not true. I +should be very sorry to ask either of them, but to me it seems to be +the most improbable thing in life.” Then Mr. Kennedy believed that +there had been no duel. In his wife’s word he put absolute faith, and +he thought that she would certainly know anything that her brother +had done. As he was a man given to but little discourse, he asked no +further questions about the duel either in the House or at the Clubs. + +At first, Phineas had been greatly dismayed when men had asked +him questions tending to elicit from him some explanation of the +mystery;--but by degrees he became used to it, and as the tidings +which had got abroad did not seem to injure him, and as the +questionings were not pushed very closely, he became indifferent. +There came out another article in the _People’s Banner_ in which Lord +C----n and Mr. P----s F----n were spoken of as glaring examples of +that aristocratic snobility,--that was the expressive word coined, +evidently with great delight, for the occasion,--which the rotten +state of London society in high quarters now produced. Here was +a young lord, infamously notorious, quarrelling with one of his +boon-companions, whom he had appointed to a private seat in the +House of Commons, fighting duels, breaking the laws, scandalising +the public,--and all this was done without punishment to the guilty! +There were old stories afloat,--so said the article--of what in a +former century had been done by Lord Mohuns and Mr. Bests; but now, +in 186--, &c. &c. &c. And so the article went on. Any reader may fill +in without difficulty the concluding indignation and virtuous appeal +for reform in social morals as well as Parliament. But Phineas had so +far progressed that he had almost come to like this kind of thing. + +Certainly I think that the duel did him no harm in society. Otherwise +he would hardly have been asked to a semi-political dinner at Lady +Glencora Palliser’s, even though he might have been invited to make +one of the five hundred guests who were crowded into her saloons +and staircases after the dinner was over. To have been one of the +five hundred was nothing; but to be one of the sixteen was a great +deal,--was indeed so much that Phineas, not understanding as yet the +advantage of his own comeliness, was at a loss to conceive why so +pleasant an honour was conferred upon him. There was no man among the +eight men at the dinner-party not in Parliament,--and the only other +except Phineas not attached to the Government was Mr. Palliser’s +great friend, John Grey, the member for Silverbridge. There were four +Cabinet Ministers in the room,--the Duke, Lord Cantrip, Mr. Gresham, +and the owner of the mansion. There was also Barrington Erle and +young Lord Fawn, an Under-Secretary of State. But the wit and grace +of the ladies present lent more of character to the party than even +the position of the men. Lady Glencora Palliser herself was a host. +There was no woman then in London better able to talk to a dozen +people on a dozen subjects; and then, moreover, she was still in +the flush of her beauty and the bloom of her youth. Lady Laura was +there;--by what means divided from her husband Phineas could not +imagine; but Lady Glencora was good at such divisions. Lady Cantrip +had been allowed to come with her lord;--but, as was well understood, +Lord Cantrip was not so manifestly a husband as was Mr. Kennedy. +There are men who cannot guard themselves from the assertion of +marital rights at most inappropriate moments. Now Lord Cantrip lived +with his wife most happily; yet you should pass hours with him and +her together, and hardly know that they knew each other. One of the +Duke’s daughters was there,--but not the Duchess, who was known to be +heavy;--and there was the beauteous Marchioness of Hartletop. Violet +Effingham was in the room also,--giving Phineas a blow at the heart +as he saw her smile. Might it be that he could speak a word to her on +this occasion? Mr. Grey had also brought his wife;--and then there +was Madame Max Goesler. Phineas found that it was his fortune to take +down to dinner,--not Violet Effingham, but Madame Max Goesler. And, +when he was placed at dinner, on the other side of him there sat Lady +Hartletop, who addressed the few words which she spoke exclusively +to Mr. Palliser. There had been in former days matters difficult of +arrangement between those two; but I think that those old passages +had now been forgotten by them both. Phineas was, therefore, driven +to depend exclusively on Madame Max Goesler for conversation, and +he found that he was not called upon to cast his seed into barren +ground. + +Up to that moment he had never heard of Madame Max Goesler. Lady +Glencora, in introducing them, had pronounced the lady’s name so +clearly that he had caught it with accuracy, but he could not surmise +whence she had come, or why she was there. She was a woman probably +something over thirty years of age. She had thick black hair, which +she wore in curls,--unlike anybody else in the world,--in curls which +hung down low beneath her face, covering, and perhaps intended to +cover, a certain thinness in her cheeks which would otherwise have +taken something from the charm of her countenance. Her eyes were +large, of a dark blue colour, and very bright,--and she used them in +a manner which is as yet hardly common with Englishwomen. She seemed +to intend that you should know that she employed them to conquer +you, looking as a knight may have looked in olden days who entered a +chamber with his sword drawn from the scabbard and in his hand. Her +forehead was broad and somewhat low. Her nose was not classically +beautiful, being broader at the nostrils than beauty required, and, +moreover, not perfectly straight in its line. Her lips were thin. +Her teeth, which she endeavoured to show as little as possible, were +perfect in form and colour. They who criticised her severely said, +however, that they were too large. Her chin was well formed, and +divided by a dimple which gave to her face a softness of grace which +would otherwise have been much missed. But perhaps her great beauty +was in the brilliant clearness of her dark complexion. You might +almost fancy that you could see into it so as to read the different +lines beneath the skin. She was somewhat tall, though by no means +tall to a fault, and was so thin as to be almost meagre in her +proportions. She always wore her dress close up to her neck, and +never showed the bareness of her arms. Though she was the only woman +so clad now present in the room, this singularity did not specially +strike one, because in other respects her apparel was so rich and +quaint as to make inattention to it impossible. The observer who did +not observe very closely would perceive that Madame Max Goesler’s +dress was unlike the dress of other women, but seeing that it was +unlike in make, unlike in colour, and unlike in material, the +ordinary observer would not see also that it was unlike in form for +any other purpose than that of maintaining its general peculiarity +of character. In colour she was abundant, and yet the fabric of +her garment was always black. My pen may not dare to describe the +traceries of yellow and ruby silk which went in and out through +the black lace, across her bosom, and round her neck, and over her +shoulders, and along her arms, and down to the very ground at her +feet, robbing the black stuff of all its sombre solemnity, and +producing a brightness in which there was nothing gaudy. She wore +no vestige of crinoline, and hardly anything that could be called a +train. And the lace sleeves of her dress, with their bright traceries +of silk, were fitted close to her arms; and round her neck she wore +the smallest possible collar of lace, above which there was a short +chain of Roman gold with a ruby pendant. And she had rubies in her +ears, and a ruby brooch, and rubies in the bracelets on her arms. +Such, as regarded the outward woman, was Madame Max Goesler; and +Phineas, as he took his place by her side, thought that fortune for +the nonce had done well with him,--only that he should have liked it +so much better could he have been seated next to Violet Effingham! + +I have said that in the matter of conversation his morsel of seed was +not thrown into barren ground. I do not know that he can truly be +said to have produced even a morsel. The subjects were all mooted +by the lady, and so great was her fertility in discoursing that all +conversational grasses seemed to grow with her spontaneously. “Mr. +Finn,” she said, “what would I not give to be a member of the British +Parliament at such a moment as this!” + +“Why at such a moment as this particularly?” + +“Because there is something to be done, which, let me tell you, +senator though you are, is not always the case with you.” + +“My experience is short, but it sometimes seems to me that there is +too much to be done.” + +“Too much of nothingness, Mr. Finn. Is not that the case? But now +there is a real fight in the lists. The one great drawback to the +life of women is that they cannot act in politics.” + +“And which side would you take?” + +“What, here in England?” said Madame Max Goesler,--from which +expression, and from one or two others of a similar nature, Phineas +was led into a doubt whether the lady were a countrywoman of his +or not. “Indeed, it is hard to say. Politically I should want to +out-Turnbull Mr. Turnbull, to vote for everything that could be +voted for,--ballot, manhood suffrage, womanhood suffrage, unlimited +right of striking, tenant right, education of everybody, annual +parliaments, and the abolition of at least the bench of bishops.” + +“That is a strong programme,” said Phineas. + +“It is strong, Mr. Finn, but that’s what I should like. I think, +however, that I should be tempted to feel a dastard security in the +conviction that I might advocate my views without any danger of +seeing them carried out. For, to tell you the truth, I don’t at all +want to put down ladies and gentlemen.” + +“You think that they would go with the bench of bishops?” + +“I don’t want anything to go,--that is, as far as real life is +concerned. There’s that dear good Bishop of Abingdon is the best +friend I have in the world,--and as for the Bishop of Dorchester, +I’d walk from here to there to hear him preach. And I’d sooner hem +aprons for them all myself than that they should want those pretty +decorations. But then, Mr. Finn, there is such a difference between +life and theory;--is there not?” + +“And it is so comfortable to have theories that one is not bound to +carry out,” said Phineas. + +“Isn’t it? Mr. Palliser, do you live up to your political theories?” +At this moment Mr. Palliser was sitting perfectly silent between Lady +Hartletop and the Duke’s daughter, and he gave a little spring in his +chair as this sudden address was made to him. “Your House of Commons +theories, I mean, Mr. Palliser. Mr. Finn is saying that it is +very well to have far advanced ideas,--it does not matter how +far advanced,--because one is never called upon to act upon them +practically.” + +“That is a dangerous doctrine, I think,” said Mr. Palliser. + +“But pleasant,--so at least Mr. Finn says.” + +“It is at least very common,” said Phineas, not caring to protect +himself by a contradiction. + +“For myself,” said Mr. Palliser gravely, “I think I may say that I +always am really anxious to carry into practice all those doctrines +of policy which I advocate in theory.” + +During this conversation Lady Hartletop sat as though no word of it +reached her ears. She did not understand Madame Max Goesler, and by +no means loved her. Mr. Palliser, when he had made his little speech, +turned to the Duke’s daughter and asked some question about the +conservatories at Longroyston. + +“I have called forth a word of wisdom,” said Madame Max Goesler, +almost in a whisper. + +“Yes,” said Phineas, “and taught a Cabinet Minister to believe that +I am a most unsound politician. You may have ruined my prospects for +life, Madame Max Goesler.” + +“Let me hope not. As far as I can understand the way of things in +your Government, the aspirants to office succeed chiefly by making +themselves uncommonly unpleasant to those who are in power. If a man +can hit hard enough he is sure to be taken into the elysium of the +Treasury bench,--not that he may hit others, but that he may cease to +hit those who are there. I don’t think men are chosen because they +are useful.” + +“You are very severe upon us all.” + +“Indeed, as far as I can see, one man is as useful as another. But +to put aside joking,--they tell me that you are sure to become a +minister.” + +Phineas felt that he blushed. Could it be that people said of him +behind his back that he was a man likely to rise high in political +position? “Your informants are very kind,” he replied awkwardly, +“but I do not know who they are. I shall never get up in the way you +describe,--that is, by abusing the men I support.” + +After that Madame Max Goesler turned round to Mr. Grey, who was +sitting on the other side of her, and Phineas was left for a moment +in silence. He tried to say a word to Lady Hartletop, but Lady +Hartletop only bowed her head gracefully in recognition of the truth +of the statement he made. So he applied himself for a while to his +dinner. + +“What do you think of Miss Effingham?” said Madame Max Goesler, again +addressing him suddenly. + +“What do I think about her?” + +“You know her, I suppose.” + +“Oh yes, I know her. She is closely connected with the Kennedys, who +are friends of mine.” + +“So I have heard. They tell me that scores of men are raving about +her. Are you one of them?” + +“Oh yes;--I don’t mind being one of sundry scores. There is nothing +particular in owning to that.” + +“But you admire her?” + +“Of course I do,” said Phineas. + +“Ah, I see you are joking. I do amazingly. They say women never do +admire women, but I most sincerely do admire Miss Effingham.” + +“Is she a friend of yours?” + +“Oh no;--I must not dare to say so much as that. I was with her last +winter for a week at Matching, and of course I meet her about at +people’s houses. She seems to me to be the most independent girl I +ever knew in my life. I do believe that nothing would make her marry +a man unless she loved him and honoured him, and I think it is so +very seldom that you can say that of a girl.” + +“I believe so also,” said Phineas. Then he paused a moment before he +continued to speak. “I cannot say that I know Miss Effingham very +intimately, but from what I have seen of her, I should think it very +probable that she may not marry at all.” + +“Very probably,” said Madame Max Goesler, who then again turned away +to Mr. Grey. + +Ten minutes after this, when the moment was just at hand in which the +ladies were to retreat, Madame Max Goesler again addressed Phineas, +looking very full into his face as she did so. “I wonder whether the +time will ever come, Mr. Finn, in which you will give me an account +of that day’s journey to Blankenberg?” + +“To Blankenberg!” + +“Yes;--to Blankenberg. I am not asking for it now. But I shall look +for it some day.” Then Lady Glencora rose from her seat, and Madame +Max Goesler went out with the others. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +Lord Fawn + + +What had Madame Max Goesler to do with his journey to Blankenberg? +thought Phineas, as he sat for a while in silence between Mr. +Palliser and Mr. Grey; and why should she, who was a perfect +stranger to him, have dared to ask him such a question? But as the +conversation round the table, after the ladies had gone, soon drifted +into politics and became general, Phineas, for a while, forgot Madame +Max Goesler and the Blankenberg journey, and listened to the eager +words of Cabinet Ministers, now and again uttering a word of his own, +and showing that he, too, was as eager as others. But the session +in Mr. Palliser’s dining-room was not long, and Phineas soon found +himself making his way amidst a throng of coming guests into the +rooms above. His object was to meet Violet Effingham, but, failing +that, he would not be unwilling to say a few more words to Madame Max +Goesler. + +He first encountered Lady Laura, to whom he had not spoken as yet, +and, finding himself standing close to her for a while, he asked her +after his late neighbour. “Do tell me one thing, Lady Laura;--who is +Madame Max Goesler, and why have I never met her before?” + +“That will be two things, Mr. Finn; but I will answer both questions +as well as I can. You have not met her before, because she was in +Germany last spring and summer, and in the year before that you were +not about so much as you have been since. Still you must have seen +her, I think. She is the widow of an Austrian banker, and has lived +the greater part of her life at Vienna. She is very rich, and has a +small house in Park Lane, where she receives people so exclusively +that it has come to be thought an honour to be invited by Madame Max +Goesler. Her enemies say that her father was a German Jew, living in +England, in the employment of the Viennese bankers, and they say also +that she has been married a second time to an Austrian Count, to whom +she allows ever so much a year to stay away from her. But of all +this, nobody, I fancy, knows anything. What they do know is that +Madame Max Goesler spends seven or eight thousand a year, and that +she will give no man an opportunity of even asking her to marry him. +People used to be shy of her, but she goes almost everywhere now.” + +“She has not been at Portman Square?” + +“Oh no; but then Lady Glencora is so much more advanced than we are! +After all, we are but humdrum people, as the world goes now.” + +Then Phineas began to roam about the rooms, striving to find an +opportunity of engrossing five minutes of Miss Effingham’s attention. +During the time that Lady Laura was giving him the history of Madame +Max Goesler his eyes had wandered round, and he had perceived that +Violet was standing in the further corner of a large lobby on to +which the stairs opened,--so situated, indeed, that she could hardly +escape, because of the increasing crowd, but on that very account +almost impossible to be reached. He could see, also, that she was +talking to Lord Fawn, an unmarried peer of something over thirty +years of age, with an unrivalled pair of whiskers, a small estate, +and a rising political reputation. Lord Fawn had been talking to +Violet through the whole dinner, and Phineas was beginning to think +that he should like to make another journey to Blankenberg, with the +object of meeting his lordship on the sands. When Lady Laura had done +speaking, his eyes were turned through a large open doorway towards +the spot on which his idol was standing. “It is of no use, my +friend,” she said, touching his arm. “I wish I could make you know +that it is of no use, because then I think you would be happier.” To +this Phineas made no answer, but went and roamed about the rooms. Why +should it be of no use? Would Violet Effingham marry any man merely +because he was a lord? + +Some half-hour after this he had succeeded in making his way up to +the place in which Violet was still standing, with Lord Fawn beside +her. “I have been making such a struggle to get to you,” he said. + +“And now you are here, you will have to stay, for it is impossible to +get out,” she answered. “Lord Fawn has made the attempt half-a-dozen +times, but has failed grievously.” + +“I have been quite contented,” said Lord Fawn;--“more than +contented.” + +Phineas felt that he ought to give some special reason to Miss +Effingham to account for his efforts to reach her, but yet he had +nothing special to say. Had Lord Fawn not been there, he would +immediately have told her that he was waiting for an answer to the +question he had asked her in Saulsby Park, but he could hardly do +this in presence of the noble Under-Secretary of State. She received +him with her pleasant genial smile, looking exactly as she had looked +when he had parted from her on the morning after their ride. She did +not show any sign of anger, or even of indifference at his approach. +But still it was almost necessary that he should account for his +search of her. “I have so longed to hear from you how you got on at +Loughlinter,” he said. + +“Yes,--yes; and I will tell you something of it some day, perhaps. +Why do you not come to Lady Baldock’s?” + +“I did not even know that Lady Baldock was in town.” + +“You ought to have known. Of course she is in town. Where did you +suppose I was living? Lord Fawn was there yesterday, and can tell you +that my aunt is quite blooming.” + +“Lady Baldock is blooming,” said Lord Fawn; “certainly +blooming;--that is, if evergreens may be said to bloom.” + +“Evergreens do bloom, as well as spring plants, Lord Fawn. You come +and see her, Mr. Finn;--only you must bring a little money with you +for the Female Protestant Unmarried Women’s Emigration Society. That +is my aunt’s present hobby, as Lord Fawn knows to his cost.” + +“I wish I may never spend half-a-sovereign worse.” + +“But it is a perilous affair for me, as my aunt wants me to go out +as a sort of leading Protestant unmarried female emigrant pioneer +myself.” + +“You don’t mean that,” said Lord Fawn, with much anxiety. + +“Of course you’ll go,” said Phineas. “I should, if I were you.” + +“I am in doubt,” said Violet. + +“It is such a grand prospect,” said he. “Such an opening in life. So +much excitement, you know; and such a useful career.” + +“As if there were not plenty of opening here for Miss Effingham,” +said Lord Fawn, “and plenty of excitement.” + +“Do you think there is?” said Violet. “You are much more civil than +Mr. Finn, I must say.” Then Phineas began to hope that he need not be +afraid of Lord Fawn. “What a happy man you were at dinner!” continued +Violet, addressing herself to Phineas. + +“I thought Lord Fawn was the happy man.” + +“You had Madame Max Goesler all to yourself for nearly two hours, and +I suppose there was not a creature in the room who did not envy you. +I don’t doubt that ever so much interest was made with Lady Glencora +as to taking Madame Max down to dinner. Lord Fawn, I know, +intrigued.” + +“Miss Effingham, really I must--contradict you.” + +“And Barrington Erle begged for it as a particular favour. The Duke, +with a sigh, owned that it was impossible, because of his cumbrous +rank; and Mr. Gresham, when it was offered to him, declared that +he was fatigued with the business of the House, and not up to the +occasion. How much did she say to you; and what did she talk about?” + +“The ballot chiefly,--that, and manhood suffrage.” + +“Ah! she said something more than that, I am sure. Madame Max Goesler +never lets any man go without entrancing him. If you have anything +near your heart, Mr. Finn, Madame Max Goesler touched it, I am sure.” +Now Phineas had two things near his heart,--political promotion and +Violet Effingham,--and Madame Max Goesler had managed to touch them +both. She had asked him respecting his journey to Blankenberg, and +had touched him very nearly in reference to Miss Effingham. “You know +Madame Max Goesler, of course?” said Violet to Lord Fawn. + +“Oh yes, I know the lady;--that is, as well as other people do. No +one, I take it, knows much of her; and it seems to me that the world +is becoming tired of her. A mystery is good for nothing if it remains +always a mystery.” + +“And it is good for nothing at all when it is found out,” said +Violet. + +“And therefore it is that Madame Max Goesler is a bore,” said Lord +Fawn. + +“You did not find her a bore?” said Violet. Then Phineas, choosing +to oppose Lord Fawn as well as he could on that matter, as on every +other, declared that he had found Madame Max Goesler most delightful. +“And beautiful,--is she not?” said Violet. + +“Beautiful!” exclaimed Lord Fawn. + +“I think her very beautiful,” said Phineas. + +“So do I,” said Violet. “And she is a dear ally of mine. We were a +week together last winter, and swore an undying friendship. She told +me ever so much about Mr. Goesler.” + +“But she told you nothing of her second husband?” said Lord Fawn. + +“Now that you have run into scandal, I shall have done,” said Violet. + +Half an hour after this, when Phineas was preparing to fight his way +out of the house, he was again close to Madame Max Goesler. He had +not found a single moment in which to ask Violet for an answer to his +old question, and was retiring from the field discomfited, but not +dispirited. Lord Fawn, he thought, was not a serious obstacle in his +way. Lady Laura had told him that there was no hope for him; but +then Lady Laura’s mind on that subject was, he thought, prejudiced. +Violet Effingham certainly knew what were his wishes, and knowing +them, smiled on him and was gracious to him. Would she do so if his +pretensions were thoroughly objectionable to her? + +“I saw that you were successful this evening,” said Madame Max +Goesler to him. + +“I was not aware of any success.” + +“I call it great success to be able to make your way where you will +through such a crowd as there is here. You seem to me to be so stout +a cavalier that I shall ask you to find my servant, and bid him +get my carriage. Will you mind?” Phineas, of course, declared that +he would be delighted. “He is a German, and not in livery. But if +somebody will call out, he will hear. He is very sharp, and much more +attentive than your English footmen. An Englishman hardly ever makes +a good servant.” + +“Is that a compliment to us Britons?” + +“No, certainly not. If a man is a servant, he should be clever enough +to be a good one.” Phineas had now given the order for the carriage, +and, having returned, was standing with Madame Max Goesler in the +cloak-room. “After all, we are surely the most awkward people in +the world,” she said. “You know Lord Fawn, who was talking to Miss +Effingham just now. You should have heard him trying to pay me a +compliment before dinner. It was like a donkey walking a minuet, and +yet they say he is a clever man and can make speeches.” Could it be +possible that Madame Max Goesler’s ears were so sharp that she had +heard the things which Lord Fawn had said of her? + +“He is a well-informed man,” said Phineas. + +“For a lord, you mean,” said Madame Max Goesler. “But he is an oaf, +is he not? And yet they say he is to marry that girl.” + +“I do not think he will,” said Phineas, stoutly. + +“I hope not, with all my heart; and I hope that somebody else +may,--unless somebody else should change his mind. Thank you; I am so +much obliged to you. Mind you come and call on me,--193, Park Lane. I +dare say you know the little cottage.” Then he put Madame Max Goesler +into her carriage, and walked away to his club. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +Lady Baldock Does Not Send a Card to Phineas Finn + + +Lady Baldock’s house in Berkeley Square was very stately,--a large +house with five front windows in a row, and a big door, and a huge +square hall, and a fat porter in a round-topped chair;--but it was +dingy and dull, and could not have been painted for the last ten +years, or furnished for the last twenty. Nevertheless, Lady Baldock +had “evenings,” and people went to them,--though not such a crowd of +people as would go to the evenings of Lady Glencora. Now Mr. Phineas +Finn had not been asked to the evenings of Lady Baldock for the +present season, and the reason was after this wise. + +“Yes, Mr. Finn,” Lady Baldock had said to her daughter, who, early in +the spring, was preparing the cards. “You may send one to Mr. Finn, +certainly.” + +“I don’t know that he is very nice,” said Augusta Boreham, whose eyes +at Saulsby had been sharper perhaps than her mother’s, and who had +her suspicions. + +But Lady Baldock did not like interference from her daughter. “Mr. +Finn, certainly,” she continued. “They tell me that he is a very +rising young man, and he sits for Lord Brentford’s borough. Of course +he is a Radical, but we cannot help that. All the rising young men +are Radicals now. I thought him very civil at Saulsby.” + +“But, mamma--” + +“Well!” + +“Don’t you think that he is a little free with Violet?” + +“What on earth do you mean, Augusta?” + +“Have you not fancied that he is--fond of her?” + +“Good gracious, no!” + +“I think he is. And I have sometimes fancied that she is fond of him, +too.” + +“I don’t believe a word of it, Augusta,--not a word. I should have +seen it if it was so. I am very sharp in seeing such things. They +never escape me. Even Violet would not be such a fool as that. Send +him a card, and if he comes I shall soon see.” Miss Boreham quite +understood her mother, though she could never master her,--and the +card was prepared. Miss Boreham could never master her mother by her +own efforts; but it was, I think, by a little intrigue on her part +that Lady Baldock was mastered, and, indeed, altogether cowed, in +reference to our hero, and that this victory was gained on that very +afternoon in time to prevent the sending of the card. + +When the mother and daughter were at tea, before dinner, Lord Baldock +came into the room, and, after having been patted and petted and +praised by his mother, he took up all the cards out of a china bowl +and ran his eyes over them. “Lord Fawn!” he said, “the greatest ass +in all London! Lady Hartletop! you know she won’t come.” “I don’t +see why she shouldn’t come,” said Lady Baldock;--“a mere country +clergyman’s daughter!” “Julius Cæsar Conway;--a great friend of mine, +and therefore he always blackballs my other friends at the club. Lord +Chiltern; I thought you were at daggers drawn with Chiltern.” “They +say he is going to be reconciled to his father, Gustavus, and I do it +for Lord Brentford’s sake. And he won’t come, so it does not signify. +And I do believe that Violet has really refused him.” “You are quite +right about his not coming,” said Lord Baldock, continuing to read +the cards; “Chiltern certainly won’t come. Count Sparrowsky;--I +wonder what you know about Sparrowsky that you should ask him here.” +“He is asked about, Gustavus; he is indeed,” pleaded Lady Baldock. “I +believe that Sparrowsky is a penniless adventurer. Mr. Monk; well, +he is a Cabinet Minister. Sir Gregory Greeswing; you mix your people +nicely at any rate. Sir Gregory Greeswing is the most old-fashioned +Tory in England.” “Of course we are not political, Gustavus.” +“Phineas Finn. They come alternately,--one and one.” + +“Mr. Finn is asked everywhere, Gustavus.” + +“I don’t doubt it. They say he is a very good sort of fellow. They +say also that Violet has found that out as well as other people.” + +“What do you mean, Gustavus?” + +“I mean that everybody is saying that this Phineas Finn is going to +set himself up in the world by marrying your niece. He is quite right +to try it on, if he has a chance.” + +“I don’t think he would be right at all,” said Lady Baldock, with +much energy. “I think he would be wrong,--shamefully wrong. They say +he is the son of an Irish doctor, and that he hasn’t a shilling in +the world.” + +“That is just why he would be right. What is such a man to do, but to +marry money? He’s a deuced good-looking fellow, too, and will be sure +to do it.” + +“He should work for his money in the city, then, or somewhere there. +But I don’t believe it, Gustavus; I don’t, indeed.” + +“Very well. I only tell you what I hear. The fact is that he and +Chiltern have already quarrelled about her. If I were to tell you +that they have been over to Holland together and fought a duel about +her, you wouldn’t believe that.” + +“Fought a duel about Violet! People don’t fight duels now, and I +should not believe it.” + +“Very well. Then send your card to Mr. Finn.” And, so saying, Lord +Baldock left the room. + +Lady Baldock sat in silence for some time toasting her toes at the +fire, and Augusta Boreham sat by, waiting for orders. She felt pretty +nearly sure that new orders would be given if she did not herself +interfere. “You had better put by that card for the present, my +dear,” said Lady Baldock at last. “I will make inquiries. I don’t +believe a word of what Gustavus has said. I don’t think that even +Violet is such a fool as that. But if rash and ill-natured people +have spoken of it, it may be as well to be careful.” + +“It is always well to be careful;--is it not, mamma?” + +“Not but what I think it very improper that these things should be +said about a young woman; and as for the story of the duel, I don’t +believe a word of it. It is absurd. I dare say that Gustavus invented +it at the moment, just to amuse himself.” + +The card of course was not sent, and Lady Baldock at any rate put so +much faith in her son’s story as to make her feel it to be her duty +to interrogate her niece on the subject. Lady Baldock at this period +of her life was certainly not free from fear of Violet Effingham. +In the numerous encounters which took place between them, the aunt +seldom gained that amount of victory which would have completely +satisfied her spirit. She longed to be dominant over her niece as she +was dominant over her daughter; and when she found that she missed +such supremacy, she longed to tell Violet to depart from out her +borders, and be no longer niece of hers. But had she ever done so, +Violet would have gone at the instant, and then terrible things would +have followed. There is a satisfaction in turning out of doors a +nephew or niece who is pecuniarily dependent, but when the youthful +relative is richly endowed, the satisfaction is much diminished. It +is the duty of a guardian, no doubt, to look after the ward; but if +this cannot be done, the ward’s money should at least be held with as +close a fist as possible. But Lady Baldock, though she knew that she +would be sorely wounded, poked about on her old body with the sharp +lances of disobedience, and struck with the cruel swords of satire, +if she took upon herself to scold or even to question Violet, +nevertheless would not abandon the pleasure of lecturing and +teaching. “It is my duty,” she would say to herself, “and though it +be taken in a bad spirit, I will always perform my duty.” So she +performed her duty, and asked Violet Effingham some few questions +respecting Phineas Finn. “My dear,” she said, “do you remember +meeting a Mr. Finn at Saulsby?” + +“A Mr. Finn, aunt! Why, he is a particular friend of mine. Of course +I do, and he was at Saulsby. I have met him there more than once. +Don’t you remember that we were riding about together?” + +“I remember that he was there, certainly; but I did not know that he +was a special--friend.” + +“Most especial, aunt. A 1, I may say;--among young men, I mean.” + +Lady Baldock was certainly the most indiscreet of old women in such a +matter as this, and Violet the most provoking of young ladies. Lady +Baldock, believing that there was something to fear,--as, indeed, +there was, much to fear,--should have been content to destroy the +card, and to keep the young lady away from the young gentleman, +if such keeping away was possible to her. But Miss Effingham was +certainly very wrong to speak of any young man as being A 1. Fond as +I am of Miss Effingham, I cannot justify her, and must acknowledge +that she used the most offensive phrase she could find, on purpose to +annoy her aunt. + +“Violet,” said Lady Baldock, bridling up, “I never heard such a word +before from the lips of a young lady.” + +“Not as A 1? I thought it simply meant very good.” + +“A 1 is a nobleman,” said Lady Baldock. + +“No, aunt;--A 1 is a ship,--a ship that is very good,” said Violet. + +“And do you mean to say that Mr. Finn is,--is,--is,--very good?” + +“Yes, indeed. You ask Lord Brentford, and Mr. Kennedy. You know he +saved poor Mr. Kennedy from being throttled in the streets.” + +“That has nothing to do with it. A policeman might have done that.” + +“Then he would have been A 1 of policemen,--though A 1 does not mean +a policeman.” + +“He would have done his duty, and so perhaps did Mr. Finn.” + +“Of course he did, aunt. It couldn’t have been his duty to stand +by and see Mr. Kennedy throttled. And he nearly killed one of the +men, and took the other prisoner with his own hands. And he made a +beautiful speech the other day. I read every word of it. I am so glad +he’s a Liberal. I do like young men to be Liberals.” Now Lord Baldock +was a Tory, as had been all the Lord Baldocks,--since the first who +had been bought over from the Whigs in the time of George III at the +cost of a barony. + +“You have nothing to do with politics, Violet.” + +“Why shouldn’t I have something to do with politics, aunt?” + +“And I must tell you that your name is being very unpleasantly +mentioned in connection with that of this young man because of your +indiscretion.” + +“What indiscretion?” Violet, as she made her demand for a more direct +accusation, stood quite upright before her aunt, looking the old +woman full in the face,--almost with her arms akimbo. + +“Calling him A 1, Violet.” + +“People have been talking about me and Mr. Finn, because I just now, +at this very moment, called him A 1 to you! If you want to scold me +about anything, aunt, do find out something less ridiculous than +that.” + +“It was most improper language,--and if you used it to me, I am sure +you would to others.” + +“To what others?” + +“To Mr. Finn,--and those sort of people.” + +“Call Mr. Finn A 1 to his face! Well,--upon my honour I don’t know +why I should not. Lord Chiltern says he rides beautifully, and if we +were talking about riding I might do so.” + +“You have no business to talk to Lord Chiltern about Mr. Finn at +all.” + +“Have I not? I thought that perhaps the one sin might palliate +the other. You know, aunt, no young lady, let her be ever so +ill-disposed, can marry two objectionable young men,--at the same +time.” + +“I said nothing about your marrying Mr. Finn.” + +“Then, aunt, what did you mean?” + +“I meant that you should not allow yourself to be talked of with an +adventurer, a young man without a shilling, a person who has come +from nobody knows where in the bogs of Ireland.” + +“But you used to ask him here.” + +“Yes,--as long as he knew his place. But I shall not do so again. And +I must beg you to be circumspect.” + +“My dear aunt, we may as well understand each other. I will not be +circumspect, as you call it. And if Mr. Finn asked me to marry him +to-morrow, and if I liked him well enough, I would take him,--even +though he had been dug right out of a bog. Not only because I liked +him,--mind! If I were unfortunate enough to like a man who was +nothing, I would refuse him in spite of my liking,--because he was +nothing. But this young man is not nothing. Mr. Finn is a fine +fellow, and if there were no other reason to prevent my marrying him +than his being the son of a doctor, and coming out of the bogs, that +would not do so. Now I have made a clean breast to you as regards +Mr. Finn; and if you do not like what I’ve said, aunt, you must +acknowledge that you have brought it on yourself.” + +Lady Baldock was left for a time speechless. But no card was sent to +Phineas Finn. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +Promotion + + +Phineas got no card from Lady Baldock, but one morning he received +a note from Lord Brentford which was of more importance to him than +any card could have been. At this time, bit by bit, the Reform +Bill of the day had nearly made its way through the committee, but +had been so mutilated as to be almost impossible of recognition +by its progenitors. And there was still a clause or two as to +the rearrangement of seats, respecting which it was known that +there would be a combat,--probably combats,--carried on after the +internecine fashion. There was a certain clipping of counties to be +done, as to which it was said that Mr. Daubeny had declared that +he would not yield till he was made to do so by the brute force of +majorities;--and there was another clause for the drafting of certain +superfluous members from little boroughs, and bestowing them on +populous towns at which they were much wanted, respecting which +Mr. Turnbull had proclaimed that the clause as it now stood was a +fainéant clause, capable of doing, and intended to do, no good in the +proper direction; a clause put into the bill to gull ignorant folk +who had not eyes enough to recognise the fact that it was fainéant; a +make-believe clause,--so said Mr. Turnbull,--to be detested on that +account by every true reformer worse than the old Philistine bonds +and Tory figments of representation, as to which there was at least +no hypocritical pretence of popular fitness. Mr. Turnbull had been +very loud and very angry,--had talked much of demonstrations among +the people, and had almost threatened the House. The House in its +present mood did not fear any demonstrations,--but it did fear that +Mr. Turnbull might help Mr. Daubeny, and that Mr. Daubeny might help +Mr. Turnbull. It was now May,--the middle of May,--and ministers, who +had been at work on their Reform Bill ever since the beginning of the +session, were becoming weary of it. And then, should these odious +clauses escape the threatened Turnbull-Daubeny alliance,--then there +was the House of Lords! “What a pity we can’t pass our bills at the +Treasury, and have done with them!” said Laurence Fitzgibbon. “Yes, +indeed,” replied Mr. Ratler. “For myself, I was never so tired of a +session in my life. I wouldn’t go through it again to be made,--no, +not to be made Chancellor of the Exchequer.” + +Lord Brentford’s note to Phineas Finn was as follows:-- + + + House of Lords, 16th May, 186--. + + MY DEAR MR. FINN, + + You are no doubt aware that Lord Bosanquet’s death has + taken Mr. Mottram into the Upper House, and that as + he was Under-Secretary for the Colonies, and as the + Under-Secretary must be in the Lower House, the vacancy + must be filled up. + + +The heart of Phineas Finn at this moment was almost in his mouth. Not +only to be selected for political employment, but to be selected at +once for an office so singularly desirable! Under-Secretaries, he +fancied, were paid two thousand a year. What would Mr. Low say now? +But his great triumph soon received a check. “Mr. Mildmay has spoken +to me on the subject,” continued the letter, “and informs me that +he has offered the place at the colonies to his old supporter, Mr. +Laurence Fitzgibbon.” Laurence Fitzgibbon! + + + I am inclined to think that he could not have done better, + as Mr. Fitzgibbon has shown great zeal for his party. This + will vacate the Irish seat at the Treasury Board, and I am + commissioned by Mr. Mildmay to offer it to you. Perhaps + you will do me the pleasure of calling on me to-morrow + between the hours of eleven and twelve. + + Yours very sincerely, + + BRENTFORD. + + +Phineas was himself surprised to find that his first feeling on +reading this letter was one of dissatisfaction. Here were his golden +hopes about to be realised,--hopes as to the realisation of which +he had been quite despondent twelve months ago,--and yet he was +uncomfortable because he was to be postponed to Laurence Fitzgibbon. +Had the new Under-Secretary been a man whom he had not known, whom he +had not learned to look down upon as inferior to himself, he would +not have minded it,--would have been full of joy at the promotion +proposed for himself. But Laurence Fitzgibbon was such a poor +creature, that the idea of filling a place from which Laurence had +risen was distasteful to him. “It seems to be all a matter of favour +and convenience,” he said to himself, “without any reference to the +service.” His triumph would have been so complete had Mr. Mildmay +allowed him to go into the higher place at one leap. Other men who +had made themselves useful had done so. In the first hour after +receiving Lord Brentford’s letter, the idea of becoming a Lord of the +Treasury was almost displeasing to him. He had an idea that junior +lordships of the Treasury were generally bestowed on young members +whom it was convenient to secure, but who were not good at doing +anything. There was a moment in which he thought that he would refuse +to be made a junior lord. + +But during the night cooler reflections told him that he had been +very wrong. He had taken up politics with the express desire of +getting his foot upon a rung of the ladder of promotion, and now, in +his third session, he was about to be successful. Even as a junior +lord he would have a thousand a year; and how long might he have sat +in chambers, and have wandered about Lincoln’s Inn, and have loitered +in the courts striving to look as though he had business, before he +would have earned a thousand a year! Even as a junior lord he could +make himself useful, and when once he should be known to be a good +working man, promotion would come to him. No ladder can be mounted +without labour; but this ladder was now open above his head, and he +already had his foot upon it. + +At half-past eleven he was with Lord Brentford, who received him +with the blandest smile and a pressure of the hand which was quite +cordial. “My dear Finn,” he said, “this gives me the most sincere +pleasure,--the greatest pleasure in the world. Our connection +together at Loughton of course makes it doubly agreeable to me.” + +“I cannot be too grateful to you, Lord Brentford.” + +“No, no; no, no. It is all your own doing. When Mr. Mildmay asked +me whether I did not think you the most promising of the young +members on our side in your House, I certainly did say that I quite +concurred. But I should be taking too much on myself, I should be +acting dishonestly, if I were to allow you to imagine that it was my +proposition. Had he asked me to recommend, I should have named you; +that I say frankly. But he did not. He did not. Mr. Mildmay named you +himself. ‘Do you think,’ he said, ‘that your friend Finn would join +us at the Treasury?’ I told him that I did think so. ‘And do you not +think,’ said he, ‘that it would be a useful appointment?’ Then I +ventured to say that I had no doubt whatever on that point;--that I +knew you well enough to feel confident that you would lend a strength +to the Liberal Government. Then there were a few words said about +your seat, and I was commissioned to write to you. That was all.” + +Phineas was grateful, but not too grateful, and bore himself very +well in the interview. He explained to Lord Brentford that of course +it was his object to serve the country,--and to be paid for his +services,--and that he considered himself to be very fortunate to be +selected so early in his career for parliamentary place. He would +endeavour to do his duty, and could safely say of himself that he did +not wish to eat the bread of idleness. As he made this assertion, he +thought of Laurence Fitzgibbon. Laurence Fitzgibbon had eaten the +bread of idleness, and yet he was promoted. But Phineas said nothing +to Lord Brentford about his idle friend. When he had made his little +speech he asked a question about the borough. + +“I have already ventured to write a letter to my agent at Loughton, +telling him that you have accepted office, and that you will be +shortly there again. He will see Shortribs and arrange it. But if I +were you I should write to Shortribs and to Grating,--after I had +seen Mr. Mildmay. Of course you will not mention my name,” And the +Earl looked very grave as he uttered this caution. + +“Of course I will not,” said Phineas. + +“I do not think you’ll find any difficulty about the seat,” said the +peer. “There never has been any difficulty at Loughton yet. I must +say that for them. And if we can scrape through with Clause 72 we +shall be all right;--shall we not?” This was the clause as to which +so violent an opposition was expected from Mr. Turnbull,--a clause as +to which Phineas himself had felt that he would hardly know how to +support the Government, in the event of the committee being pressed +to a division upon it. Could he, an ardent reformer, a reformer +at heart,--could he say that such a borough as Loughton should be +spared;--that the arrangement by which Shortribs and Grating had sent +him to Parliament, in obedience to Lord Brentford’s orders, was in +due accord with the theory of a representative legislature? In what +respect had Gatton and Old Sarum been worse than Loughton? Was he +not himself false to his principle in sitting for such a borough +as Loughton? He had spoken to Mr. Monk, and Mr. Monk had told him +that Rome was not built in a day,--and had told him also that good +things were most valued and were more valuable when they came by +instalments. But then Mr. Monk himself enjoyed the satisfaction of +sitting for a popular Constituency. He was not personally pricked +in the conscience by his own parliamentary position. Now, however, +--now that Phineas had consented to join the Government, any such +considerations as these must be laid aside. He could no longer be a +free agent, or even a free thinker. He had been quite aware of this, +and had taught himself to understand that members of Parliament in +the direct service of the Government were absolved from the necessity +of free-thinking. Individual free-thinking was incompatible with the +position of a member of the Government, and unless such abnegation +were practised, no government would be possible. It was of course a +man’s duty to bind himself together with no other men but those with +whom, on matters of general policy, he could agree heartily;--but +having found that he could so agree, he knew that it would be his +duty as a subaltern to vote as he was directed. It would trouble his +conscience less to sit for Loughton and vote for an objectionable +clause as a member of the Government, than it would have done to give +such a vote as an independent member. In so resolving, he thought +that he was simply acting in accordance with the acknowledged rules +of parliamentary government. And therefore, when Lord Brentford spoke +of Clause 72, he could answer pleasantly, “I think we shall carry +it; and, you see, in getting it through committee, if we can carry +it by one, that is as good as a hundred. That’s the comfort of +close-fighting in committee. In the open House we are almost as much +beaten by a narrow majority as by a vote against us.” + +“Just so; just so,” said Lord Brentford, delighted to see that his +young pupil,--as he regarded him,--understood so well the system of +parliamentary management. “By-the-bye, Finn, have you seen Chiltern +lately?” + +“Not quite lately,” said Phineas, blushing up to his eyes. + +“Or heard from him?” + +“No;--nor heard from him. When last I heard of him he was in +Brussels.” + +“Ah,--yes; he is somewhere on the Rhine now. I thought that as you +were so intimate, perhaps you corresponded with him. Have you heard +that we have arranged about Lady Laura’s money?” + +“I have heard. Lady Laura has told me.” + +“I wish he would return,” said Lord Brentford sadly,--almost +solemnly. “As that great difficulty is over, I would receive him +willingly, and make my house pleasant to him, if I can do so. I am +most anxious that he should settle, and marry. Could you not write +to him?” Phineas, not daring to tell Lord Brentford that he had +quarrelled with Lord Chiltern,--feeling that if he did so everything +would go wrong,--said that he would write to Lord Chiltern. + +As he went away he felt that he was bound to get an answer from +Violet Effingham. If it should be necessary, he was willing to break +with Lord Brentford on that matter,--even though such breaking should +lose him his borough and his place;--but not on any other matter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +Phineas and His Friends + + +Our hero’s friends were, I think, almost more elated by our hero’s +promotion than was our hero himself. He never told himself that it +was a great thing to be a junior lord of the Treasury, though he +acknowledged to himself that to have made a successful beginning +was a very great thing. But his friends were loud in their +congratulations,--or condolements as the case might be. + +He had his interview with Mr. Mildmay, and, after that, one of +his first steps was to inform Mrs. Bunce that he must change his +lodgings. “The truth is, Mrs. Bunce, not that I want anything better; +but that a better position will be advantageous to me, and that I +can afford to pay for it.” Mrs. Bunce acknowledged the truth of the +argument, with her apron up to her eyes. “I’ve got to be so fond of +looking after you, Mr. Finn! I have indeed,” said Mrs. Bunce. “It is +not just what you pays like, because another party will pay as much. +But we’ve got so used to you, Mr. Finn,--haven’t we?” Mrs. Bunce was +probably not aware herself that the comeliness of her lodger had +pleased her feminine eye, and touched her feminine heart. Had anybody +said that Mrs. Bunce was in love with Phineas, the scandal would have +been monstrous. And yet it was so,--after a fashion. And Bunce knew +it,--after his fashion. “Don’t be such an old fool,” he said, “crying +after him because he’s six foot high.” “I ain’t crying after him +because he’s six foot high,” whined the poor woman;--“but one does +like old faces better than new, and a gentleman about one’s place +is pleasant.” “Gentleman be d----d,” said Bunce. But his anger was +excited, not by his wife’s love for Phineas, but by the use of an +objectionable word. + +Bunce himself had been on very friendly terms with Phineas, and they +two had had many discussions on matters of politics, Bunce taking +up the cudgels always for Mr. Turnbull, and generally slipping away +gradually into some account of his own martyrdom. For he had been a +martyr, having failed in obtaining any redress against the policeman +who had imprisoned him so wrongfully. The _People’s Banner_ +had fought for him manfully, and therefore there was a little +disagreement between him and Phineas on the subject of that great +organ of public opinion. And as Mr. Bunce thought that his lodger +was very wrong to sit for Lord Brentford’s borough, subjects were +sometimes touched which were a little galling to Phineas. + +Touching this promotion, Bunce had nothing but condolement to offer +to the new junior lord. “Oh yes,” said he, in answer to an argument +from Phineas, “I suppose there must be lords, as you call ’em; though +for the matter of that I can’t see as they is of any mortal use.” + +“Wouldn’t you have the Government carried on?” + +“Government! Well; I suppose there must be government. But the less +of it the better. I’m not against government;--nor yet against laws, +Mr. Finn; though the less of them, too, the better. But what does +these lords do in the Government? Lords indeed! I’ll tell you what +they do, Mr. Finn. They wotes; that’s what they do! They wotes hard; +black or white, white or black. Ain’t that true? When you’re a +‘lord,’ will you be able to wote against Mr. Mildmay to save your +very soul?” + +“If it comes to be a question of soul-saving, Mr. Bunce, I shan’t +save my place at the expense of my conscience.” + +“Not if you knows it, you mean. But the worst of it is that a man +gets so thick into the mud that he don’t know whether he’s dirty or +clean. You’ll have to wote as you’re told, and of course you’ll think +it’s right enough. Ain’t you been among Parliament gents long enough +to know that that’s the way it goes?” + +“You think no honest man can be a member of the Government?” + +“I don’t say that, but I think honesty’s a deal easier away from ’em. +The fact is, Mr. Finn, it’s all wrong with us yet, and will be till +we get it nigher to the great American model. If a poor man gets into +Parliament,--you’ll excuse me, Mr. Finn, but I calls you a poor man.” + +“Certainly,--as a member of Parliament I am a very poor man.” + +“Just so,--and therefore what do you do? You goes and lays yourself +out for government! I’m not saying as how you’re anyways wrong. A man +has to live. You has winning ways, and a good physiognomy of your +own, and are as big as a life-guardsman.” Phineas as he heard this +doubtful praise laughed and blushed. “Very well; you makes your +way with the big wigs, lords and earls and them like, and you gets +returned for a rotten borough;--you’ll excuse me, but that’s about +it, ain’t it?--and then you goes in for government! A man may have +a mission to govern, such as Washington and Cromwell and the like +o’ them. But when I hears of Mr. Fitzgibbon a-governing, why then I +says,--d----n it all.” + +“There must be good and bad you know.” + +“We’ve got to change a deal yet, Mr. Finn, and we’ll do it. When a +young man as has liberal feelings gets into Parliament, he shouldn’t +be snapped up and brought into the governing business just because +he’s poor and wants a salary. They don’t do it that way in the +States; and they won’t do it that way here long. It’s the system as I +hates, and not you, Mr. Finn. Well, good-bye, sir. I hope you’ll like +the governing business, and find it suits your health.” + +These condolements from Mr. Bunce were not pleasant, but they set +him thinking. He felt assured that Bunce and Quintus Slide and Mr. +Turnbull were wrong. Bunce was ignorant. Quintus Slide was dishonest. +Turnbull was greedy of popularity. For himself, he thought that as a +young man he was fairly well informed. He knew that he meant to be +true in his vocation. And he was quite sure that the object nearest +to his heart in politics was not self-aggrandisement, but the welfare +of the people in general. And yet he could not but agree with Bunce +that there was something wrong. When such men as Laurence Fitzgibbon +were called upon to act as governors, was it not to be expected +that the ignorant but still intelligent Bunces of the population +should--“d----n it all”? + +On the evening of that day he went up to Mrs. Low’s, very sure that +he should receive some encouragement from her and from her husband. +She had been angry with him because he had put himself into a +position in which money must be spent and none could be made. The +Lows, especially Mrs. Low, had refused to believe that any success +was within his reach. Now that he had succeeded, now that he was in +receipt of a salary on which he could live and save money, he would +be sure of sympathy from his old friends the Lows! + +But Mrs. Low was as severe upon him as Mr. Bunce had been, and +even from Mr. Low he could extract no real comfort. “Of course I +congratulate you,” said Mr. Low coldly. + +“And you, Mrs. Low?” + +“Well, you know, Mr. Finn, I think you have begun at the wrong end. I +thought so before, and I think so still. I suppose I ought not to say +so to a Lord of the Treasury, but if you ask me, what can I do?” + +“Speak the truth out, of course.” + +“Exactly. That’s what I must do. Well, the truth is, Mr. Finn, that +I do not think it is a very good opening for a young man to be made +what they call a Lord of the Treasury,--unless he has got a private +fortune, you know, to support that kind of life.” + +“You see, Phineas, a ministry is such an uncertain thing,” said Mr. +Low. + +“Of course it’s uncertain;--but as I did go into the House, it’s +something to have succeeded.” + +“If you call that success,” said Mrs. Low. + +“You did intend to go on with your profession,” said Mr. Low. He +could not tell them that he had changed his mind, and that he meant +to marry Violet Effingham, who would much prefer a parliamentary life +for her husband to that of a working barrister. “I suppose that is +all given up now,” continued Mr. Low. + +“Just for the present,” said Phineas. + +“Yes;--and for ever I fear,” said Mrs. Low, “You’ll never go back to +real work after frittering away your time as a Lord of the Treasury. +What sort of work must it be when just anybody can do it that it +suits them to lay hold of? But of course a thousand a year is +something, though a man may have it for only six months.” + +It came out in the course of the evening that Mr. Low was going +to stand for the borough vacated by Mr. Mottram, at which it was +considered that the Conservatives might possibly prevail. “You see, +after all, Phineas,” said Mr. Low, “that I am following your steps.” + +“Ah; you are going into the House in the course of your profession.” + +“Just so,” said Mrs. Low. + +“And are taking the first step towards being a Tory +Attorney-General.” + +“That’s as may be,” said Mr. Low. “But it’s the kind of thing a man +does after twenty years of hard work. For myself, I really don’t +care much whether I succeed or fail. I should like to live to be a +Vice-Chancellor. I don’t mind saying as much as that to you. But I’m +not at all sure that Parliament is the best way to the Equity Bench.” + +“But it is a grand thing to get into Parliament when you do it by +means of your profession,” said Mrs. Low. + +Soon after that Phineas took his departure from the house, feeling +sore and unhappy. But on the next morning he was received in +Grosvenor Place with an amount of triumph which went far to +compensate him. Lady Laura had written to him to call there, and on +his arrival he found both Violet Effingham and Madame Max Goesler +with his friend. When Phineas entered the room his first feeling was +one of intense joy at seeing that Violet Effingham was present there. +Then there was one of surprise that Madame Max Goesler should make +one of the little party. Lady Laura had told him at Mr. Palliser’s +dinner-party that they, in Portman Square, had not as yet advanced +far enough to receive Madame Max Goesler,--and yet here was the lady +in Mr. Kennedy’s drawing-room. Now Phineas would have thought it more +likely that he should find her in Portman Square than in Grosvenor +Place. The truth was that Madame Goesler had been brought by Miss +Effingham,--with the consent, indeed, of Lady Laura, but with a +consent given with much of hesitation. “What are you afraid of?” +Violet had asked. “I am afraid of nothing,” Lady Laura had answered; +“but one has to choose one’s acquaintance in accordance with rules +which one doesn’t lay down very strictly.” “She is a clever woman,” +said Violet, “and everybody likes her; but if you think Mr. Kennedy +would object, of course you are right.” Then Lady Laura had +consented, telling herself that it was not necessary that she should +ask her husband’s approval as to every new acquaintance she might +form. At the same time Violet had been told that Phineas would be +there, and so the party had been made up. + +“‘See the conquering hero comes,’” said Violet in her cheeriest voice. + +“I am so glad that Mr. Finn has been made a lord of something,” +said Madame Max Goesler. “I had the pleasure of a long political +discussion with him the other night, and I quite approve of him.” + +“We are so much gratified, Mr. Finn,” said Lady Laura. “Mr. Kennedy +says that it is the best appointment they could have made, and papa +is quite proud about it.” + +“You are Lord Brentford’s member; are you not?” asked Madame Max +Goesler. This was a question which Phineas did not quite like, and +which he was obliged to excuse by remembering that the questioner had +lived so long out of England as to be probably ignorant of the myths, +and theories, and system, and working of the British Constitution. +Violet Effingham, little as she knew of politics, would never have +asked a question so imprudent. + +But the question was turned off, and Phineas, with an easy grace, +submitted himself to be petted, and congratulated, and purred +over, and almost caressed by the three ladies, Their good-natured +enthusiasm was at any rate better than the satire of Bunce, or the +wisdom of Mrs. Low. Lady Laura had no misgivings as to Phineas being +fit for governing, and Violet Effingham said nothing as to the +short-lived tenure of ministers. Madame Max Goesler, though she had +asked an indiscreet question, thoroughly appreciated the advantage +of Government pay, and the prestige of Government power. “You are a +lord now,” she said, speaking, as was customary with her, with the +slightest possible foreign accent, “and you will be a president soon, +and then perhaps a secretary. The order of promotion seems odd, but I +am told it is very pleasant.” + +“It is pleasant to succeed, of course,” said Phineas, “let the +success be ever so little.” + +“We knew you would succeed,” said Lady Laura. “We were quite sure of +it. Were we not, Violet?” + +“You always said so, my dear. For myself I do not venture to have +an opinion on such matters. Will you always have to go to that big +building in the corner, Mr. Finn, and stay there from ten till four? +Won’t that be a bore?” + +“We have a half-holiday on Saturday, you know,” said Phineas. + +“And do the Lords of the Treasury have to take care of the money?” +asked Madame Max Goesler. + +“Only their own; and they generally fail in doing that,” said +Phineas. + +He sat there for a considerable time, wondering whether Mr. Kennedy +would come in, and wondering also as to what Mr. Kennedy would say to +Madame Max Goesler when he did come in. He knew that it was useless +for him to expect any opportunity, then or there, of being alone for +a moment with Violet Effingham. His only chance in that direction +would be in some crowded room, at some ball at which he might ask her +to dance with him; but it seemed that fate was very unkind to him, +and that no such chance came in his way. Mr. Kennedy did not appear, +and Madame Max Goesler with Violet went away, leaving Phineas still +sitting with Lady Laura. Each of them said a kind word to him as +they went. “I don’t know whether I may dare to expect that a Lord of +the Treasury will come and see me?” said Madame Max Goesler. Then +Phineas made a second promise that he would call in Park Lane. Violet +blushed as she remembered that she could not ask him to call at Lady +Baldock’s. “Good-bye, Mr. Finn,” she said, giving him her hand. +“I’m so very glad that they have chosen you; and I do hope that, as +Madame Max says, they’ll make you a secretary and a president, and +everything else very quickly,--till it will come to your turn to +be making other people.” “He is very nice,” said Madame Goesler to +Violet as she took her place in the carriage. “He bears being petted +and spoilt without being either awkward or conceited.” “On the whole, +he is rather nice,” said Violet; “only he has not got a shilling in +the world, and has to make himself before he will be anybody.” “He +must marry money, of course,” said Madame Max Goesler. + +“I hope you are contented?” said Lady Laura, rising from her chair +and coming opposite to him as soon as they were alone. + +“Of course I am contented.” + +“I was not,--when I first heard of it. Why did they promote that +empty-headed countryman of yours to a place for which he was quite +unfit? I was not contented. But then I am more ambitious for you than +you are for yourself.” He sat without answering her for awhile, and +she stood waiting for his reply. “Have you nothing to say to me?” she +asked. + +“I do not know what to say. When I think of it all, I am lost in +amazement. You tell me that you are not contented;--that you are +ambitious for me. Why is it that you should feel any interest in the +matter?” + +“Is it not reasonable that we should be interested for our friends?” + +“But when you and I last parted here in this room you were hardly my +friend.” + +“Was I not? You wrong me there;--very deeply.” + +“I told you what was my ambition, and you resented it,” said Phineas. + +“I think I said that I could not help you, and I think I said also +that I thought you would fail. I do not know that I showed much +resentment. You see, I told her that you were here, that she might +come and meet you. You know that I wished my brother should succeed. +I wished it before I ever knew you. You cannot expect that I should +change my wishes.” + +“But if he cannot succeed,” pleaded Phineas. + +“Who is to say that? Has a woman never been won by devotion and +perseverance? Besides, how can I wish to see you go on with a suit +which must sever you from my father, and injure your political +prospects;--perhaps fatally injure them? It seems to me now that my +father is almost the only man in London who has not heard of this +duel.” + +“Of course he will hear of it. I have half made up my mind to tell +him myself.” + +“Do not do that, Mr. Finn. There can be no reason for it. But I +did not ask you to come here to-day to talk to you about Oswald or +Violet. I have given you my advice about that, and I can do no more.” + +“Lady Laura, I cannot take it. It is out of my power to take it.” + +“Very well. The matter shall be what you members of Parliament call +an open question between us. When papa asked you to accept this place +at the Treasury, did it ever occur to you to refuse it?” + +“It did;--for half an hour or so.” + +“I hoped you would,--and yet I knew that I was wrong. I thought that +you should count yourself to be worth more than that, and that you +should, as it were, assert yourself. But then it is so difficult +to draw the line between proper self-assertion and proper +self-denial;--to know how high to go up the table, and how low to +go down. I do not doubt that you have been right,--only make them +understand that you are not as other junior lords;--that you have +been willing to be a junior lord, or anything else for a purpose; +but that the purpose is something higher than that of fetching and +carrying in Parliament for Mr. Mildmay and Mr. Palliser.” + +“I hope in time to get beyond fetching and carrying,” said Phineas. + +“Of course you will; and knowing that, I am glad that you are in +office. I suppose there will be no difficulty about Loughton.” + +Then Phineas laughed. “I hear,” said he, “that Mr. Quintus Slide, +of the _People’s Banner_, has already gone down to canvass the +electors.” + +“Mr. Quintus Slide! To canvass the electors of Loughton!” and Lady +Laura drew herself up and spoke of this unseemly intrusion on her +father’s borough, as though the vulgar man who had been named had +forced his way into the very drawing-room in Portman Square. At that +moment Mr. Kennedy came in. “Do you hear what Mr. Finn tells me?” she +said. “He has heard that Mr. Quintus Slide has gone down to Loughton +to stand against him.” + +“And why not?” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“My dear!” ejaculated Lady Laura. + +“Mr. Quintus Slide will no doubt lose his time and his money;--but he +will gain the prestige of having stood for a borough, which will be +something for him on the staff of the _People’s Banner_,” said Mr. +Kennedy. + +“He will get that horrid man Vellum to propose him,” said Lady Laura. + +“Very likely,” said Mr. Kennedy. “And the less any of us say about +it the better. Finn, my dear fellow, I congratulate you heartily. +Nothing for a long time has given me greater pleasure than hearing +of your appointment. It is equally honourable to yourself and to Mr. +Mildmay. It is a great step to have gained so early.” + +Phineas, as he thanked his friend, could not help asking himself what +his friend had done to be made a Cabinet Minister. Little as he, +Phineas, himself had done in the House in his two sessions and a +half, Mr. Kennedy had hardly done more in his fifteen or twenty. But +then Mr. Kennedy was possessed of almost miraculous wealth, and owned +half a county, whereas he, Phineas, owned almost nothing at all. +Of course no Prime Minister would offer a junior lordship at the +Treasury to a man with £30,000 a year. Soon after this Phineas took +his leave. “I think he will do well,” said Mr. Kennedy to his wife. + +“I am sure he will do well,” replied Lady Laura, almost scornfully. + +“He is not quite such a black swan with me as he is with you; but +still I think he will succeed, if he takes care of himself. It is +astonishing how that absurd story of his duel with Chiltern has got +about.” + +“It is impossible to prevent people talking,” said Lady Laura. + +“I suppose there was some quarrel, though neither of them will tell +you. They say it was about Miss Effingham. I should hardly think that +Finn could have any hopes in that direction.” + +“Why should he not have hopes?” + +“Because he has neither position, nor money, nor birth,” said Mr. +Kennedy. + +“He is a gentleman,” said Lady Laura; “and I think he has position. I +do not see why he should not ask any girl to marry him.” + +“There is no understanding you, Laura,” said Mr. Kennedy, angrily. “I +thought you had quite other hopes about Miss Effingham.” + +“So I have; but that has nothing to do with it. You spoke of Mr. Finn +as though he would be guilty of some crime were he to ask Violet +Effingham to be his wife. In that I disagree with you. Mr. Finn is--” + +“You will make me sick of the name of Mr. Finn.” + +“I am sorry that I offend you by my gratitude to a man who saved your +life.” Mr. Kennedy shook his head. He knew that the argument used +against him was false, but he did not know how to show that he knew +that it was false. “Perhaps I had better not mention his name any +more,” continued Lady Laura. + +“Nonsense!” + +“I quite agree with you that it is nonsense, Robert.” + +“All I mean to say is, that if you go on as you do, you will turn his +head and spoil him. Do you think I do not know what is going on among +you?” + +“And what is going on among us,--as you call it?” + +“You are taking this young man up and putting him on a pedestal and +worshipping him, just because he is well-looking, and rather clever +and decently behaved. It’s always the way with women who have nothing +to do, and who cannot be made to understand that they should have +duties. They cannot live without some kind of idolatry.” + +“Have I neglected my duty to you, Robert?” + +“Yes,--you know you have;--in going to those receptions at your +father’s house on Sundays.” + +“What has that to do with Mr. Finn?” + +“Psha!” + +“I begin to think I had better tell Mr. Finn not to come here any +more, since his presence is disagreeable to you. All the world knows +how great is the service he did you, and it will seem to be very +ridiculous. People will say all manner of things; but anything will +be better than that you should go on as you have done,--accusing your +wife of idolatry towards--a young man, because--he is--well-looking.” + +“I never said anything of the kind.” + +“You did, Robert.” + +“I did not. I did not speak more of you than of a lot of others.” + +“You accused me personally, saying that because of my idolatry I had +neglected my duty; but really you made such a jumble of it all, with +papa’s visitors, and Sunday afternoons, that I cannot follow what was +in your mind.” + +Then Mr. Kennedy stood for awhile, collecting his thoughts, so that +he might unravel the jumble, if that were possible to him; but +finding that it was not possible, he left the room, and closed the +door behind him. + +Then Lady Laura was left alone to consider the nature of the +accusation which her husband had brought against her; or the nature +rather of the accusation which she had chosen to assert that her +husband had implied. For in her heart she knew that he had made no +such accusation, and had intended to make none such. The idolatry of +which he had spoken was the idolatry which a woman might show to her +cat, her dog, her picture, her china, her furniture, her carriage and +horses, or her pet maid-servant. Such was the idolatry of which Mr. +Kennedy had spoken;--but was there no other worship in her heart, +worse, more pernicious than that, in reference to this young man? + +She had schooled herself about him very severely, and had come to +various resolutions. She had found out and confessed to herself that +she did not, and could not, love her husband. She had found out and +confessed to herself that she did love, and could not help loving, +Phineas Finn. Then she had resolved to banish him from her presence, +and had gone the length of telling him so. After that she had +perceived that she had been wrong, and had determined to meet him as +she met other men,--and to conquer her love. Then, when this could +not be done, when something almost like idolatry grew upon her, she +determined that it should be the idolatry of friendship, that she +would not sin even in thought, that there should be nothing in her +heart of which she need be ashamed;--but that the one great object +and purport of her life should be the promotion of this friend’s +welfare. She had just begun to love after this fashion, had taught +herself to believe that she might combine something of the pleasure +of idolatry towards her friend with a full complement of duty towards +her husband, when Phineas came to her with his tale of love for +Violet Effingham. The lesson which she got then was a very rough +one,--so hard that at first she could not bear it. Her anger at his +love for her brother’s wished-for bride was lost in her dismay that +Phineas should love any one after having once loved her. But by +sheer force of mind she had conquered that dismay, that feeling of +desolation at her heart, and had almost taught herself to hope that +Phineas might succeed with Violet. He wished it,--and why should he +not have what he wished,--he, whom she so fondly idolised? It was not +his fault that he and she were not man and wife. She had chosen to +arrange it otherwise, and was she not bound to assist him now in the +present object of his reasonable wishes? She had got over in her +heart that difficulty about her brother, but she could not quite +conquer the other difficulty. She could not bring herself to plead +his cause with Violet. She had not brought herself as yet to do it. + +And now she was accused of idolatry for Phineas by her husband,--she +with “a lot of others,” in which lot Violet was of course included. +Would it not be better that they two should be brought together? +Would not her friend’s husband still be her friend? Would she not +then forget to love him? Would she not then be safer than she was +now? + +As she sat alone struggling with her difficulties, she had not as yet +forgotten to love him,--nor was she as yet safe. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +Miss Effingham’s Four Lovers + + +One morning early in June Lady Laura called at Lady Baldock’s house +and asked for Miss Effingham. The servant was showing her into +the large drawing-room, when she again asked specially for Miss +Effingham. “I think Miss Effingham is there,” said the man, opening +the door. Miss Effingham was not there. Lady Baldock was sitting +all alone, and Lady Laura perceived that she had been caught in +the net which she specially wished to avoid. Now Lady Baldock had +not actually or openly quarrelled with Lady Laura Kennedy or with +Lord Brentford, but she had conceived a strong idea that her niece +Violet was countenanced in all improprieties by the Standish family +generally, and that therefore the Standish family was to be regarded +as a family of enemies. There was doubtless in her mind considerable +confusion on the subject, for she did not know whether Lord Chiltern +or Mr. Finn was the suitor whom she most feared,--and she was aware, +after a sort of muddled fashion, that the claims of these two wicked +young men were antagonistic to each other. But they were both +regarded by her as emanations from the same source of iniquity, +and, therefore, without going deeply into the machinations of Lady +Laura,--without resolving whether Lady Laura was injuring her by +pressing her brother as a suitor upon Miss Effingham, or by pressing +a rival of her brother,--still she became aware that it was her duty +to turn a cold shoulder on those two houses in Portman Square and +Grosvenor Place. But her difficulties in doing this were very great, +and it may be said that Lady Baldock was placed in an unjust and +cruel position. Before the end of May she had proposed to leave +London, and to take her daughter and Violet down to Baddingham,--or +to Brighton, if they preferred it, or to Switzerland. “Brighton in +June!” Violet had exclaimed. “Would not a month among the glaciers be +delightful!” Miss Boreham had said. “Don’t let me keep you in town, +aunt,” Violet replied; “but I do not think I shall go till other +people go. I can have a room at Laura Kennedy’s house.” Then Lady +Baldock, whose position was hard and cruel, resolved that she would +stay in town. Here she had in her hands a ward over whom she had no +positive power, and yet in respect to whom her duty was imperative! +Her duty was imperative, and Lady Baldock was not the woman to +neglect her duty;--and yet she knew that the doing of her duty would +all be in vain. Violet would marry a shoe-black out of the streets if +she were so minded. It was of no use that the poor lady had provided +herself with two strings, two most excellent strings, to her +bow,--two strings either one of which should have contented Miss +Effingham. There was Lord Fawn, a young peer, not very rich +indeed,--but still with means sufficient for a wife, a rising +man, and in every way respectable, although a Whig. And there +was Mr. Appledom, one of the richest commoners in England, a +fine Conservative too, with a seat in the House, and everything +appropriate. He was fifty, but looked hardly more than thirty-five, +and was,--so at least Lady Baldock frequently asserted,--violently in +love with Violet Effingham. Why had not the law, or the executors, or +the Lord Chancellor, or some power levied for the protection of the +proprieties, made Violet absolutely subject to her guardian till she +should be made subject to a husband? + +“Yes, I think she is at home,” said Lady Baldock, in answer to Lady +Laura’s inquiry for Violet. “At least, I hardly know. She seldom +tells me what she means to do,--and sometimes she will walk out quite +alone!” A most imprudent old woman was Lady Baldock, always opening +her hand to her adversaries, unable to control herself in the +scolding of people, either before their faces or behind their backs, +even at moments in which such scolding was most injurious to her own +cause. “However, we will see,” she continued. Then the bell was rung, +and in a few minutes Violet was in the room. In a few minutes more +they were up-stairs together in Violet’s own room, in spite of the +openly-displayed wrath of Lady Baldock. “I almost wish she had never +been born,” said Lady Baldock to her daughter. “Oh, mamma, don’t +say that.” “I certainly do wish that I had never seen her.” “Indeed +she has been a grievous trouble to you, mamma,” said Miss Boreham, +sympathetically. + +“Brighton! What nonsense!” said Lady Laura. + +“Of course it’s nonsense. Fancy going to Brighton! And then they +have proposed Switzerland. If you could only hear Augusta talking in +rapture of a month among the glaciers! And I feel so ungrateful. I +believe they would spend three months with me at any horrible place +that I could suggest,--at Hong Kong if I were to ask it,--so intent +are they on taking me away from metropolitan danger.” + +“But you will not go?” + +“No!--I won’t go. I know I am very naughty; but I can’t help feeling +that I cannot be good without being a fool at the same time. I must +either fight my aunt, or give way to her. If I were to yield, what a +life I should have;--and I should despise myself after all.” + +“And what is the special danger to be feared now?” + +“I don’t know;--you, I fancy. I told her that if she went, I should +go to you. I knew that would make her stay.” + +“I wish you would come to me,” said Lady Laura. + +“I shouldn’t think of it really,--not for any length of time.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because I should be in Mr. Kennedy’s way.” + +“You wouldn’t be in his way in the least. If you would only be down +punctually for morning prayers, and go to church with him on Sunday +afternoon, he would be delighted to have you.” + +“What did he say about Madame Max coming?” + +“Not a word. I don’t think he quite knew who she was then. I fancy he +has inquired since, by something he said yesterday.” + +“What did he say?” + +“Nothing that matters;--only a word. I haven’t come here to talk +about Madame Max Goesler,--nor yet about Mr. Kennedy.” + +“Whom have you come to talk about?” asked Violet, laughing a little, +with something of increased colour in her cheeks, though she could +not be said to blush. + +“A lover of course,” said Lady Laura. + +“I wish you would leave me alone with my lovers. You are as bad or +worse than my aunt. She, at any rate, varies her prescription. She +has become sick of poor Lord Fawn because he’s a Whig.” + +“And who is her favourite now?” + +“Old Mr. Appledom,--who is really a most unexceptionable old party, +and whom I like of all things. I really think I could consent to be +Mrs. Appledom, to get rid of my troubles,--if he did not dye his +whiskers and have his coats padded.” + +“He’d give up those little things if you asked him.” + +“I shouldn’t have the heart to do it. Besides, this isn’t his time of +the year for making proposals. His love fever, which is of a very low +kind, and intermits annually, never comes on till the autumn. It is a +rural malady, against which he is proof while among his clubs!” + +“Well, Violet,--I am like your aunt.” + +“Like Lady Baldock?” + +“In one respect. I, too, will vary my prescription.” + +“What do you mean, Laura?” + +“Just this,--that if you like to marry Phineas Finn, I will say that +you are right.” + +“Heaven and earth! And why am I to marry Phineas Finn?” + +“Only for two reasons; because he loves you, and because--” + +“No,--I deny it. I do not.” + +“I had come to fancy that you did.” + +“Keep your fancy more under control then. But upon my word I can’t +understand this. He was your great friend.” + +“What has that to do with it?” demanded Lady Laura. + +“And you have thrown over your brother, Laura?” + +“You have thrown him over. Is he to go on for ever asking and being +refused?” + +“I do not know why he should not,” said Violet, “seeing how very +little trouble it gives him. Half an hour once in six months does it +all for him, allowing him time for coming and going in a cab.” + +“Violet, I do not understand you. Have you refused Oswald so often +because he does not pass hours on his knees before you?” + +“No, indeed! His nature would be altered very much for the worse +before he could do that.” + +“Why do you throw it in his teeth then that he does not give you more +of his time?” + +“Why have you come to tell me to marry Mr. Phineas Finn? That is what +I want to know. Mr. Phineas Finn, as far as I am aware, has not a +shilling in the world,--except a month’s salary now due to him from +the Government. Mr. Phineas Finn I believe to be the son of a country +doctor in Ireland,--with about seven sisters. Mr. Phineas Finn is a +Roman Catholic. Mr. Phineas Finn is,--or was a short time ago,--in +love with another lady; and Mr. Phineas Finn is not so much in +love at this moment but what he is able to intrust his cause to an +ambassador. None short of a royal suitor should ever do that with +success.” + +“Has he never pleaded his cause to you himself?” + +“My dear, I never tell gentlemen’s secrets. It seems that if he has, +his success was so trifling that he has thought he had better trust +some one else for the future.” + +“He has not trusted me. He has not given me any commission.” + +“Then why have you come?” + +“Because,--I hardly know how to tell his story. There have been +things about Oswald which made it almost necessary that Mr. Finn +should explain himself to me.” + +“I know it all;--about their fighting. Foolish young men! I am not +a bit obliged to either of them,--not a bit. Only fancy, if my aunt +knew it, what a life she would lead me! Gustavus knows all about it, +and I feel that I am living at his mercy. Why were they so +wrong-headed?” + +“I cannot answer that,--though I know them well enough to be sure +that Chiltern was the one in fault.” + +“It is so odd that you should have thrown your brother over.” + +“I have not thrown my brother over. Will you accept Oswald if he asks +you again?” + +“No,” almost shouted Violet. + +“Then I hope that Mr. Finn may succeed. I want him to succeed in +everything. There;--you may know it all. He is my Phoebus Apollo.” + +“That is flattering to me,--looking at the position in which you +desire to place your Phoebus at the present moment.” + +“Come, Violet, I am true to you, and let me have a little truth from +you. This man loves you, and I think is worthy of you. He does not +love me, but he is my friend. As his friend, and believing in his +worth, I wish for his success beyond almost anything else in the +world. Listen to me, Violet. I don’t believe in those reasons which +you gave me just now for not becoming this man’s wife.” + +“Nor do I.” + +“I know you do not. Look at me. I, who have less of real heart than +you, I who thought that I could trust myself to satisfy my mind and +my ambition without caring for my heart, I have married for what you +call position. My husband is very rich, and a Cabinet Minister, and +will probably be a peer. And he was willing to marry me at a time +when I had not a shilling of my own.” + +“He was very generous.” + +“He has asked for it since,” said Lady Laura. “But never mind. I have +not come to talk about myself;--otherwise than to bid you not do what +I have done. All that you have said about this man’s want of money +and of family is nothing.” + +“Nothing at all,” said Violet. “Mere words,--fit only for such people +as my aunt.” + +“Well then?” + +“Well?” + +“If you love him--!” + +“Ah! but if I do not? You are very close in inquiring into my +secrets. Tell me, Laura;--was not this young Crichton once a lover of +your own?” + +“Psha! And do you think I cannot keep a gentleman’s secret as well as +you?” + +“What is the good of any secret, Laura, when we have been already so +open? He tried his ’prentice hand on you; and then he came to me. Let +us watch him, and see who’ll be the third. I too like him well enough +to hope that he’ll land himself safely at last.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +The Mousetrap + + +Phineas had certainly no desire to make love by an ambassador,--at +second-hand. He had given no commission to Lady Laura, and was, as +the reader is aware, quite ignorant of what was being done and said +on his behalf. He had asked no more from Lady Laura than an +opportunity of speaking for himself, and that he had asked almost +with a conviction that by so asking he would turn his friend into an +enemy. He had read but little of the workings of Lady Laura’s heart +towards himself, and had no idea of the assistance she was anxious to +give him. She had never told him that she was willing to sacrifice +her brother on his behalf, and, of course, had not told him that she +was willing also to sacrifice herself. Nor, when she wrote to him one +June morning and told him that Violet would be found in Portman +Square, alone, that afternoon,--naming an hour, and explaining that +Miss Effingham would be there to meet herself and her father, but +that at such an hour she would be certainly alone,--did he even then +know how much she was prepared to do for him. The short note was +signed “L.,” and then there came a long postscript. “Ask for me,” she +said in a postscript. “I shall be there later, and I have told them +to bid you wait. I can give you no hope of success, but if you choose +to try,--you can do so. If you do not come, I shall know that you +have changed your mind. I shall not think the worse of you, and your +secret will be safe with me. I do that which you have asked me to +do,--simply because you have asked it. Burn this at once,--because I +ask it.” Phineas destroyed the note, tearing it into atoms, the +moment that he had read it and re-read it. Of course he would go to +Portman Square at the hour named. Of course he would take his chance. +He was not buoyed up by much of hope;--but even though there were no +hope, he would take his chance. + +When Lord Brentford had first told Phineas of his promotion, he had +also asked the new Lord of the Treasury to make a certain +communication on his behalf to his son. This Phineas had found +himself obliged to promise to do;--and he had done it. The letter had +been difficult enough to write,--but he had written it. After having +made the promise, he had found himself bound to keep it. + +“Dear Lord Chiltern,” he had commenced, “I will not think that there +was anything in our late encounter to prevent my so addressing you. I +now write at the instance of your father, who has heard nothing of +our little affair.” Then he explained at length Lord Brentford’s +wishes as he understood them. “Pray come home,” he said, finishing +his letter. “Touching V. E., I feel that I am bound to tell you that +I still mean to try my fortune, but that I have no ground for hoping +that my fortune will be good. Since the day on the sands, I have +never met her but in society. I know you will be glad to hear that my +wound was nothing; and I think you will be glad to hear that I have +got my foot on to the ladder of promotion.--Yours always, + +“PHINEAS FINN.” + +Now he had to try his fortune,--that fortune of which he had told +Lord Chiltern that he had no reason for hoping that it would be good. +He went direct from his office at the Treasury to Portman Square, +resolving that he would take no trouble as to his dress, simply +washing his hands and brushing his hair as though he were going down +to the House, and he knocked at the Earl’s door exactly at the hour +named by Lady Laura. + +“Miss Effingham,” he said, “I am so glad to find you alone.” + +“Yes,” she said, laughing. “I am alone,--a poor unprotected female. +But I fear nothing. I have strong reason for believing that Lord +Brentford is somewhere about. And Pomfret the butler, who has known +me since I was a baby, is a host in himself.” + +“With such allies you can have nothing to fear,” he replied, +attempting to carry on her little jest. + +“Nor even without them, Mr. Finn. We unprotected females in these +days are so self-reliant that our natural protectors fall off from +us, finding themselves to be no longer wanted. Now with you,--what +can I fear?” + +“Nothing,--as I hope.” + +“There used to be a time, and that not so long ago either, when young +gentlemen and ladies were thought to be very dangerous to each other +if they were left alone. But propriety is less rampant now, and upon +the whole virtue and morals, with discretion and all that kind of +thing, have been the gainers. Don’t you think so?” + +“I am sure of it.” + +“All the same, but I don’t like to be caught in a trap, Mr. Finn.” + +“In a trap?” + +“Yes;--in a trap. Is there no trap here? If you will say so, I will +acknowledge myself to be a dolt, and will beg your pardon.” + +“I hardly know what you call a trap.” + +“You were told that I was here?” + +He paused a moment before he replied. “Yes, I was told.” + +“I call that a trap.” + +“Am I to blame?” + +“I don’t say that you set it,--but you use it.” + +“Miss Effingham, of course I have used it. You must know,--I think +you must know that I have that to say to you which has made me long +for such an opportunity as this.” + +“And therefore you have called in the assistance of your friend.” + +“It is true.” + +“In such matters you should never talk to any one, Mr. Finn. If you +cannot fight your own battle, no one can fight it for you.” + +“Miss Effingham, do you remember our ride at Saulsby?” + +“Very well;--as if it were yesterday.” + +“And do you remember that I asked you a question which you have never +answered?” + +“I did answer it,--as well as I knew how, so that I might tell you a +truth without hurting you.” + +“It was necessary,--is necessary that I should be hurt sorely, or +made perfectly happy. Violet Effingham, I have come to you to ask you +to be my wife;--to tell you that I love you, and to ask for your love +in return. Whatever may be my fate, the question must be asked, and +an answer must be given. I have not hoped that you should tell me +that you loved me--” + +“For what then have you hoped?” + +“For not much, indeed;--but if for anything, then for some chance +that you might tell me so hereafter.” + +“If I loved you, I would tell you so now,--instantly. I give you my +word of that.” + +“Can you never love me?” + +“What is a woman to answer to such a question? No;--I believe never. +I do not think I shall ever wish you to be my husband. You ask me to +be plain, and I must be plain.” + +“Is it because--?” He paused, hardly knowing what the question was +which he proposed to himself to ask. + +“It is for no because,--for no cause except that simple one which +should make any girl refuse any man whom she did not love. Mr. +Finn, I could say pleasant things to you on any other subject than +this,--because I like you.” + +“I know that I have nothing to justify my suit.” + +“You have everything to justify it;--at least I am bound to presume +that you have. If you love me,--you are justified.” + +“You know that I love you.” + +“I am sorry that it should ever have been so,--very sorry. I can only +hope that I have not been in fault.” + +“Will you try to love me?” + +“No;--why should I try? If any trying were necessary, I would try +rather not to love you. Why should I try to do that which would +displease everybody belonging to me? For yourself, I admit your right +to address me,--and tell you frankly that it would not be in vain, if +I loved you. But I tell you as frankly that such a marriage would not +please those whom I am bound to try to please.” + +He paused a moment before he spoke further. “I shall wait,” he said, +“and come again.” + +“What am I to say to that? Do not tease me, so that I be driven to +treat you with lack of courtesy. Lady Laura is so much attached to +you, and Mr. Kennedy, and Lord Brentford,--and indeed I may say, +I myself also, that I trust there may be nothing to mar our good +fellowship. Come, Mr. Finn,--say that you will take an answer, and +I will give you my hand.” + +“Give it me,” said he. She gave him her hand, and he put it up to his +lips and pressed it. “I will wait and come again,” he said. “I will +assuredly come again.” Then he turned from her and went out of the +house. At the corner of the square he saw Lady Laura’s carriage, but +did not stop to speak to her. And she also saw him. + +“So you have had a visitor here,” said Lady Laura to Violet. + +“Yes;--I have been caught in the trap.” + +“Poor mouse! And has the cat made a meal of you?” + +“I fancy he has, after his fashion. There be cats that eat their mice +without playing,--and cats that play with their mice, and then eat +them; and cats again which only play with their mice, and don’t care +to eat them. Mr. Finn is a cat of the latter kind, and has had his +afternoon’s diversion.” + +“You wrong him there.” + +“I think not, Laura. I do not mean to say that he would not have +liked me to accept him. But, if I can see inside his bosom, such a +little job as that he has now done will be looked back upon as one of +the past pleasures of his life;--not as a pain.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +Mr. Mildmay’s Bill + + +It will be necessary that we should go back in our story for a very +short period in order that the reader may be told that Phineas Finn +was duly re-elected at Loughton after his appointment at the Treasury +Board. There was some little trouble at Loughton, and something +more of expense than he had before encountered. Mr. Quintus Slide +absolutely came down, and was proposed by Mr. Vellum for the borough. +Mr. Vellum being a gentleman learned in the law, and hostile to the +interests of the noble owner of Saulsby, was able to raise a little +trouble against our hero. Mr. Slide was proposed by Mr. Vellum, and +seconded by Mr. Vellum’s clerk,--though, as it afterwards appeared, +Mr. Vellum’s clerk was not in truth an elector,--and went to the poll +like a man. He received three votes, and at twelve o’clock withdrew. +This in itself could hardly have afforded compensation for the +expense which Mr. Slide or his backers must have encountered;--but +he had an opportunity of making a speech, every word of which was +reported in the _People’s Banner_; and if the speech was made in the +language given in the report, Mr. Slide was really possessed of some +oratorical power. Most of those who read the speech in the columns +of the _People’s Banner_ were probably not aware how favourable an +opportunity of retouching his sentences in type had been given to Mr. +Slide by the fact of his connection with the newspaper. The speech +had been very severe upon our hero; and though the speaker had +been so hooted and pelted at Loughton as to have been altogether +inaudible,--so maltreated that in point of fact he had not been able +to speak above a tenth part of his speech at all,--nevertheless the +speech did give Phineas a certain amount of pain. Why Phineas should +have read it who can tell? But who is there that abstains from +reading that which is printed in abuse of himself? + +In the speech as it was printed Mr. Slide declared that he had no +thought of being returned for the borough. He knew too well how +the borough was managed, what slaves the electors were;--how they +groaned under a tyranny from which hitherto they had been unable +to release themselves. Of course the Earl’s nominee, his lacquey, +as the honourable gentleman might be called, would be returned. +The Earl could order them to return whichever of his lacqueys he +pleased.--There is something peculiarly pleasing to the democratic +ear in the word lacquey! Any one serving a big man, whatever +the service may be, is the big man’s lacquey in the _People’s +Banner_.--The speech throughout was very bitter. Mr. Phineas Finn, +who had previously served in Parliament as the lacquey of an Irish +earl, and had been turned off by him, had now fallen into the service +of the English earl, and was the lacquey chosen for the present +occasion. But he, Quintus Slide, who boasted himself to be a man +of the people,--he could tell them that the days of their thraldom +were coming to an end, and that their enfranchisement was near at +hand. That friend of the people, Mr. Turnbull, had a clause in his +breeches-pocket which he would either force down the unwilling throat +of Mr. Mildmay, or else drive the imbecile Premier from office by +carrying it in his teeth. Loughton, as Loughton, must be destroyed, +but it should be born again in a better birth as a part of a +real electoral district, sending a real member, chosen by a real +constituency, to a real Parliament. In those days,--and they would +come soon,--Mr. Quintus Slide rather thought that Mr. Phineas Finn +would be found “nowhere,” and he rather thought also that when he +showed himself again, as he certainly should do, in the midst of that +democratic electoral district as the popular candidate for the honour +of representing it in Parliament, that democratic electoral district +would accord to him a reception very different from that which he +was now receiving from the Earl’s lacqueys in the parliamentary +village of Loughton. A prettier bit of fiction than these sentences +as composing a part of any speech delivered, or proposed to be +delivered, at Loughton, Phineas thought he had never seen. And when +he read at the close of the speech that though the Earl’s hired +bullies did their worst, the remarks of Mr. Slide were received by +the people with reiterated cheering, he threw himself back in his +chair at the Treasury and roared. The poor fellow had been three +minutes on his legs, had received three rotten eggs, and one dead +dog, and had retired. But not the half of the speech as printed in +the _People’s Banner_ has been quoted. The sins of Phineas, who in +spite of his inability to open his mouth in public had been made +a Treasury hack by the aristocratic influence,--“by aristocratic +influence not confined to the male sex,”--were described at great +length, and in such language that Phineas for a while was fool enough +to think that it would be his duty to belabour Mr. Slide with a +horsewhip. This notion, however, did not endure long with him, and +when Mr. Monk told him that things of that kind came as a matter of +course, he was comforted. + +But he found it much more difficult to obtain comfort when he weighed +the arguments brought forward against the abominations of such a +borough as that for which he sat, and reflected that if Mr. Turnbull +brought forward his clause, he, Phineas Finn, would be bound to vote +against the clause, knowing the clause to be right, because he was a +servant of the Government. The arguments, even though they appeared +in the _People’s Banner_, were true arguments; and he had on one +occasion admitted their truth to his friend Lady Laura,--in the +presence of that great Cabinet Minister, her husband. “What business +has such a man as that down there? Is there a single creature who +wants him?” Lady Laura had said. “I don’t suppose anybody does want +Mr. Quintus Slide,” Phineas had replied; “but I am disposed to think +the electors should choose the man they do want, and that at present +they have no choice left to them.” “They are quite satisfied,” said +Lady Laura, angrily. “Then, Lady Laura,” continued Phineas, “that +alone should be sufficient to prove that their privilege of returning +a member to Parliament is too much for them. We can’t defend it.” +“It is defended by tradition,” said Mr. Kennedy. “And by its great +utility,” said Lady Laura, bowing to the young member who was +present, and forgetting that very useless old gentleman, her cousin, +who had sat for the borough for many years. “In this country it +doesn’t do to go too fast,” said Mr. Kennedy. “And then the mixture +of vulgarity, falsehood, and pretence!” said Lady Laura, shuddering +as her mind recurred to the fact that Mr. Quintus Slide had +contaminated Loughton by his presence. “I am told that they hardly +let him leave the place alive.” + +Whatever Mr. Kennedy and Lady Laura might think about Loughton +and the general question of small boroughs, it was found by the +Government, to their great cost, that Mr. Turnbull’s clause was a +reality. After two months of hard work, all questions of franchise +had been settled, rating and renting, new and newfangled, fancy +franchises and those which no one fancied, franchises for boroughs +and franchises for counties, franchises single, dual, three-cornered, +and four-sided,--by various clauses to which the Committee of the +whole House had agreed after some score of divisions,--the matter +of the franchise had been settled. No doubt there was the House +of Lords, and there might yet be shipwreck. But it was generally +believed that the Lords would hardly look at the bill,--that they +would not even venture on an amendment. The Lords would only be too +happy to let the matter be settled by the Commons themselves. But +then, after the franchise, came redistribution. How sick of the +subject were all members of the Government, no one could tell who +did not see their weary faces. The whole House was sick, having been +whipped into various lobbies, night after night, during the heat of +the summer, for weeks past. Redistribution! Why should there be any +redistribution? They had got, or would get, a beautiful franchise. +Could they not see what that would do for them? Why redistribute +anything? But, alas, it was too late to go back to so blessed an idea +as that! Redistribution they must have. But there should be as little +redistribution as possible. Men were sick of it all, and would not be +exigeant. Something should be done for overgrown counties;--something +for new towns which had prospered in brick and mortar. It would +be easy to crush up a peccant borough or two,--a borough that had +been discovered in its sin. And a few boroughs now blessed with +two members might consent to be blessed only with one. Fifteen +small clauses might settle the redistribution, in spite of Mr. +Turnbull,--if only Mr. Daubeny would be good-natured. + +Neither the weather, which was very hot, nor the tedium of the +session, which had been very great, nor the anxiety of Ministers, +which was very pressing, had any effect in impairing the energy +of Mr. Turnbull. He was as instant, as oratorical, as hostile, as +indignant about redistribution as he had been about the franchise. He +had been sure then, and he was sure now, that Ministers desired to +burke the question, to deceive the people, to produce a bill that +should be no bill. He brought out his clause,--and made Loughton +his instance. “Would the honourable gentleman who sat lowest on +the Treasury bench,--who at this moment was in sweet confidential +intercourse with the right honourable gentleman now President of the +Board of Trade, who had once been a friend of the people,--would the +young Lord of the Treasury get up in his place and tell them that +no peer of Parliament had at present a voice in sending a member to +their House of Commons,--that no peer would have a voice if this +bill, as proposed by the Government, were passed in its present +useless, ineffectual, conservative, and most dishonest form?” + +Phineas, who replied to this, and who told Mr. Turnbull that he +himself could not answer for any peers,--but that he thought it +probable that most peers would, by their opinions, somewhat influence +the opinions of some electors,--was thought to have got out of his +difficulty very well. But there was the clause of Mr. Turnbull to be +dealt with,--a clause directly disfranchising seven single-winged +boroughs, of which Loughton was of course one,--a clause to which the +Government must either submit or object. Submission would be certain +defeat in one way, and objection would be as certain defeat in +another,--if the gentlemen on the other side were not disposed to +assist the ministers. It was said that the Cabinet was divided. +Mr. Gresham and Mr. Monk were for letting the seven boroughs go. +Mr. Mildmay could not bring himself to obey Mr. Turnbull, and Mr. +Palliser supported him. When Mr. Mildmay was told that Mr. Daubeny +would certainly go into the same lobby with Mr. Turnbull respecting +the seven boroughs, he was reported to have said that in that case +Mr. Daubeny must be prepared with a Government. Mr. Daubeny made a +beautiful speech about the seven boroughs;--the seven sins, and seven +stars, and seven churches, and seven lamps. He would make no party +question of this. Gentlemen who usually acted with him would vote +as their own sense of right or wrong directed them;--from which +expression of a special sanction it was considered that these +gentlemen were not accustomed to exercise the privilege now accorded +to them. But in regarding the question as one of right and wrong, and +in looking at what he believed to be both the wish of the country and +its interests, he, Mr. Daubeny,--he, himself, being simply a humble +member of that House,--must support the clause of the honourable +gentleman. Almost all those to whom had been surrendered the +privilege of using their own judgment for that occasion only, used it +discreetly,--as their chief had used it himself,--and Mr. Turnbull +carried his clause by a majority of fifteen. It was then 3 a.m., +and Mr. Gresham, rising after the division, said that his right +honourable friend the First Lord of the Treasury was too tired +to return to the House, and had requested him to state that the +Government would declare their purpose at 6 p.m. on the following +evening. + +Phineas, though he had made his little speech in answer to Mr. +Turnbull with good-humoured flippancy, had recorded his vote in +favour of the seven boroughs with a sore heart. Much as he disliked +Mr. Turnbull, he knew that Mr. Turnbull was right in this. He had +spoken to Mr. Monk on the subject, as it were asking Mr. Monk’s +permission to throw up his office, and vote against Mr. Mildmay. But +Mr. Monk was angry with him, telling him that his conscience was of +that restless, uneasy sort which is neither useful nor manly. “We +all know,” said Mr. Monk, “and none better than Mr. Mildmay, that +we cannot justify such a borough as Loughton by the theory of our +parliamentary representation,--any more than we can justify the +fact that Huntingdonshire should return as many members as the East +Riding. There must be compromises, and you should trust to others who +have studied the matter more thoroughly than you, to say how far the +compromise should go at the present moment.” + +“It is the influence of the peer, not the paucity of the electors,” +said Phineas. + +“And has no peer any influence in a county? Would you disfranchise +Westmoreland? Believe me, Finn, if you want to be useful, you must +submit yourself in such matters to those with whom you act.” + +Phineas had no answer to make, but he was not happy in his mind. And +he was the less happy, perhaps, because he was very sure that Mr. +Mildmay would be beaten. Mr. Low in these days harassed him sorely. +Mr. Low was very keen against such boroughs as Loughton, declaring +that Mr. Daubeny was quite right to join his standard to that of Mr. +Turnbull on such an issue. Mr. Low was the reformer now, and Phineas +found himself obliged to fight a losing battle on behalf of an +acknowledged abuse. He never went near Bunce; but, unfortunately for +him, Bunce caught him once in the street and showed him no mercy. +“Slide was a little ’eavy on you in the _Banner_ the other day,--eh, +Mr. Finn?--too ’eavy, as I told him.” + +“Mr. Slide can be just as heavy as he pleases, Bunce.” + +“That’s in course. The press is free, thank God,--as yet. But it +wasn’t any good rattling away at the Earl’s little borough when it’s +sure to go. Of course it’ll go, Mr. Finn.” + +“I think it will.” + +“The whole seven on ’em. The ’ouse couldn’t but do it. They tell me +it’s all Mr. Mildmay’s own work, sticking out for keeping on ’em. +He’s very old, and so we’ll forgive him. But he must go, Mr. Finn.” + +“We shall know all about that soon, Bunce.” + +“If you don’t get another seat, Mr. Finn, I suppose we shall see you +back at the Inn. I hope we may. It’s better than being member for +Loughton, Mr. Finn;--you may be sure of that.” And then Mr. Bunce +passed on. + +Mr. Turnbull carried his clause, and Loughton was doomed. Loughton +and the other six deadly sins were anathematized, exorcised, and +finally got rid of out of the world by the voices of the gentlemen +who had been proclaiming the beauty of such pleasant vices all their +lives, and who in their hearts hated all changes that tended towards +popular representation. But not the less was Mr. Mildmay beaten; +and, in accordance with the promise made by his first lieutenant +immediately after the vote was taken, the Prime Minister came forward +on the next evening and made his statement. He had already put his +resignation into the hands of Her Majesty, and Her Majesty had +graciously accepted it. He was very old, and felt that the time had +come in which it behoved him to retire into that leisure which he +thought he had, perhaps, earned. He had hoped to carry this bill as +the last act of his political life; but he was too old, too stiff, as +he said, in his prejudices, to bend further than he had bent already, +and he must leave the completion of the matter in other hands. Her +Majesty had sent for Mr. Gresham, and Mr. Gresham had already seen +Her Majesty. Mr. Gresham and his other colleagues, though they +dissented from the clause which had been carried by the united +efforts of gentlemen opposite to him, and of gentlemen below him on +his own side of the House, were younger men than he, and would, for +the country’s sake,--and for the sake of Her Majesty,--endeavour +to carry the bill through. There would then, of course, be a +dissolution, and the future Government would, no doubt, depend on +the choice of the country. From all which it was understood that Mr. +Gresham was to go on with the bill to a conclusion, whatever might be +the divisions carried against him, and that a new Secretary of State +for Foreign Affairs must be chosen. Phineas understood, also, that +he had lost his seat at Loughton. For the borough of Loughton there +would never again be an election. “If I had been Mr. Mildmay, I would +have thrown the bill up altogether,” Lord Brentford said afterwards; +“but of course it was not for me to interfere.” + +The session was protracted for two months after that,--beyond the +time at which grouse should have been shot,--and by the 23rd of +August became the law of the land. “I shall never get over it,” said +Mr. Ratler to Mr. Finn, seated one terribly hot evening on a bench +behind the Cabinet Ministers,--“never. I don’t suppose such a session +for work was ever known before. Think what it is to have to keep +men together in August, with the thermometer at 81°, and the river +stinking like,--like the very mischief.” Mr. Ratler, however, did not +die. + +On the last day of the session Laurence Fitzgibbon resigned. Rumours +reached the ears of Phineas as to the cause of this, but no certain +cause was told him. It was said that Lord Cantrip had insisted upon +it, Laurence having by mischance been called upon for some official +statement during an unfortunate period of absence. There was, +however, a mystery about it;--but the mystery was not half so +wonderful as the triumph to Phineas, when Mr. Gresham offered him the +place. + +“But I shall have no seat,” said Phineas. + +“We shall none of us have seats to-morrow,” said Mr. Gresham. + +“But I shall be at a loss to find a place to stand for.” + +“The election will not come on till November, and you must look about +you. Both Mr. Monk and Lord Brentford seem to think you will be in +the House.” + +And so the bill was carried, and the session was ended. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +“The Duke” + + +By the middle of September there was assembled a large party at +Matching Priory, a country mansion belonging to Mr. Plantagenet +Palliser. The men had certainly been chosen in reference to their +political feelings and position,--for there was not a guest in +the house who had voted for Mr. Turnbull’s clause, or the wife +or daughter, or sister of any one who had so voted. Indeed, in +these days politics ran so high that among politicians all social +gatherings were brought together with some reference to the state +of parties. Phineas was invited, and when he arrived at Matching he +found that half the Cabinet was there. Mr. Kennedy was not there, nor +was Lady Laura. Mr. Monk was there, and the Duke,--with the Duchess, +and Mr. Gresham, and Lord Thrift; Mrs. Max Goesler was there also, +and Mrs. Bonteen,--Mr. Bonteen being detained somewhere out of +the way; and Violet Effingham was expected in two days, and Lord +Chiltern at the end of the week. Lady Glencora took an opportunity +of imparting this latter information to Phineas very soon after his +arrival; and Phineas, as he watched her eye and her mouth while she +spoke, was quite sure that Lady Glencora knew the story of the duel. +“I shall be delighted to see him again,” said Phineas. “That is +all right,” said Lady Glencora. There were also there Mr. and Mrs. +Grey, who were great friends of the Pallisers,--and on the very day +on which Phineas reached Matching, at half an hour before the time +for dressing, the Duke of Omnium arrived. Now, Mr. Palliser was the +Duke’s nephew and heir,--and the Duke of Omnium was a very great +person indeed. I hardly know why it should have been so, but the Duke +of Omnium was certainly a greater man in public estimation than the +other duke then present,--the Duke of St. Bungay. The Duke of St. +Bungay was a useful man, and had been so all his life, sitting in +Cabinets and serving his country, constant as any peer in the House +of Lords, always ready to take on his own shoulders any troublesome +work required of him, than whom Mr. Mildmay, and Mr. Mildmay’s +predecessor at the head of the liberal party, had had no more devoted +adherent. But the Duke of Omnium had never yet done a day’s work on +behalf of his country. They both wore the Garter, the Duke of St. +Bungay having earned it by service, the Duke of Omnium having been +decorated with the blue ribbon,--because he was Duke of Omnium. The +one was a moral, good man, a good husband, a good father, and a good +friend. The other,--did not bear quite so high a reputation. But men +and women thought but little of the Duke of St. Bungay, while the +other duke was regarded with an almost reverential awe. I think the +secret lay in the simple fact that the Duke of Omnium had not been +common in the eyes of the people. He had contrived to envelope +himself in something of the ancient mystery of wealth and rank. +Within three minutes of the Duke’s arrival Mrs. Bonteen, with an air +of great importance, whispered a word to Phineas. “He has come. He +arrived exactly at seven!” + +“Who has come?” Phineas asked. + +“The Duke of Omnium!” she said, almost reprimanding him by her tone +of voice for his indifference. “There has been a great doubt whether +or no he would show himself at last. Lady Glencora told me that he +never will pledge himself. I am so glad he has come.” + +“I don’t think I ever saw him,” said Phineas. + +“Oh, I have seen him,--a magnificent-looking man! I think it is so +very nice of Lady Glencora getting him to meet us. It is very rarely +that he will join in a great party, but they say Lady Glencora can do +anything with him since the heir was born. I suppose you have heard +all about that.” + +“No,” said Phineas; “I have heard nothing of the heir, but I know +that there are three or four babies.” + +“There was no heir, you know, for a year and a half, and they were +all au désespoir; and the Duke was very nearly quarrelling with his +nephew; and Mr. Palliser--; you know it had very nearly come to a +separation.” + +“I don’t know anything at all about it,” said Phineas, who was not +very fond of the lady who was giving him the information. + +“It is so, I can assure you; but since the boy was born Lady Glencora +can do anything with the Duke. She made him go to Ascot last spring, +and he presented her with the favourite for one of the races on the +very morning the horse ran. They say he gave three thousand pounds +for him.” + +“And did Lady Glencora win?” + +“No;--the horse lost; and Mr. Palliser has never known what to do +with him since. But it was very pretty of the Duke;--was it not?” + +Phineas, though he had intended to show to Mrs. Bonteen how little he +thought about the Duke of Omnium,--how small was his respect for a +great peer who took no part in politics,--could not protect himself +from a certain feeling of anxiety as to the aspect and gait and words +of the man of whom people thought so much, of whom he had heard so +often, and of whom he had seen so little. He told himself that the +Duke of Omnium should be no more to him than any other man, but yet +the Duke of Omnium was more to him than other men. When he came +down into the drawing-room he was angry with himself, and stood +apart;--and was then angry with himself again because he stood apart. +Why should he make a difference in his own bearing because there was +such a man in the company? And yet he could not avoid it. When he +entered the room the Duke was standing in a large bow-window, and two +or three ladies and two or three men were standing round him. Phineas +would not go near the group, telling himself that he would not +approach a man so grand as was the Duke of Omnium. He saw Madame Max +Goesler among the party, and after a while he saw her retreat. As she +retreated, Phineas knew that some words from Madame Max Goesler had +not been received with the graciousness which she had expected. There +was the prettiest smile in the world on the lady’s face, and she +took a corner on a sofa with an air of perfect satisfaction. But yet +Phineas knew that she had received a wound. + +“I called twice on you in London,” said Phineas, coming up close to +her, “but was not fortunate enough to find you!” + +“Yes;--but you came so late in the season as to make it impossible +that there should be any arrangements for our meeting. What can any +woman do when a gentleman calls on her in August?” + +“I came in July.” + +“Yes, you did; on the 31st. I keep the most accurate record of all +such things, Mr. Finn. But let us hope that we may have better luck +next year. In the meantime, we can only enjoy the good things that +are going.” + +“Socially, or politically, Madame Goesler?” + +“Oh, socially. How can I mean anything else when the Duke of Omnium +is here? I feel so much taller at being in the same house with him. +Do not you? But you are a spoilt child of fortune, and perhaps you +have met him before.” + +“I think I once saw the back of a hat in the park, and somebody told +me that the Duke’s head was inside it.” + +“And you have never seen him but that once?” + +“Never but that once,--till now.” + +“And do not you feel elated?” + +“Of course I do. For what do you take me, Madame Goesler?” + +“I do,--immensely. I believe him to be a fool, and I never heard of +his doing a kind act to anybody in my life.” + +“Not when he gave the racehorse to Lady Glencora?” + +“I wonder whether that was true. Did you ever hear of such an +absurdity? As I was saying, I don’t think he ever did anything +for anybody;--but then, you know, to be Duke of Omnium! It isn’t +necessary,--is it,--that a Duke of Omnium should do anything except +be Duke of Omnium?” + +At this moment Lady Glencora came up to Phineas, and took him across +to the Duke. The Duke had expressed a desire to be introduced to him. +Phineas, half-pleased and half-disgusted, had no alternative, and +followed Lady Glencora. The Duke shook hands with him, and made a +little bow, and said something about the garrotters, which Phineas, +in his confusion, did not quite understand. He tried to reply as he +would have replied to anybody else, but the weight of the Duke’s +majesty was too much for him, and he bungled. The Duke made another +little bow, and in a moment was speaking a word of condescension +to some other favoured individual. Phineas retreated altogether +disgusted,--hating the Duke, but hating himself worse; but he would +not retreat in the direction of Madame Max Goesler. It might suit +that lady to take an instant little revenge for her discomfiture, but +it did not suit him to do so. The question with him would be, whether +in some future part of his career it might not be his duty to assist +in putting down Dukes of Omnium. + +At dinner Phineas sat between Mrs. Bonteen and the Duchess of St. +Bungay, and did not find himself very happy. At the other end of the +table the Duke,--the great Duke, was seated at Lady Glencora’s right +hand, and on his other side Fortune had placed Madame Max Goesler. +The greatest interest which Phineas had during the dinner was in +watching the operations,--the triumphantly successful operations of +that lady. Before dinner she had been wounded by the Duke. The Duke +had not condescended to accord the honour of his little bow of +graciousness to some little flattering morsel of wit which the lady +had uttered on his behoof. She had said a sharp word or two in her +momentary anger to Phineas; but when Fortune was so good to her in +that matter of her place at dinner, she was not fool enough to throw +away her chance. Throughout the soup and fish she was very quiet. +She said a word or two after her first glass of champagne. The Duke +refused two dishes, one after another, and then she glided into +conversation. By the time that he had his roast mutton before him she +was in full play, and as she eat her peach, the Duke was bending over +her with his most gracious smile. + +“Didn’t you think the session was very long, Mr. Finn?” said the +Duchess to Phineas. + +“Very long indeed, Duchess,” said Phineas, with his attention still +fixed on Madame Max Goesler. + +“The Duke found it very troublesome.” + +“I daresay he did,” said Phineas. That duke and that duchess were no +more than any other man and any other man’s wife. The session had +not been longer to the Duke of St. Bungay than to all the public +servants. Phineas had the greatest possible respect for the Duke of +St. Bungay, but he could not take much interest in the wailings of +the Duchess on her husband’s behalf. + +“And things do seem to be so very uncomfortable now,” said the +Duchess,--thinking partly of the resignation of Mr. Mildmay, and +partly of the fact that her own old peculiar maid who had lived with +her for thirty years had retired into private life. + +“Not so very bad, Duchess, I hope,” said Phineas, observing that at +this moment Madame Max Goesler’s eyes were brilliant with triumph. +Then there came upon him a sudden ambition,--that he would like to +“cut out” the Duke of Omnium in the estimation of Madame Max Goesler. +The brightness of Madame Max Goesler’s eyes had not been thrown away +upon our hero. + +Violet Effingham came at the appointed time, and, to the surprise of +Phineas, was brought to Matching by Lord Brentford. Phineas at first +thought that it was intended that the Earl and his son should meet +and make up their quarrel at Mr. Palliser’s house. But Lord Brentford +stayed only one night, and Phineas on the next morning heard the +whole history of his coming and going from Violet. “I have almost +been on my knees to him to stay,” she said. “Indeed, I did go on my +knees,--actually on my knees.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“He put his arm round me and kissed me, and,--and,--I cannot tell you +all that he said. But it ended in this,--that if Chiltern can be made +to go to Saulsby, fatted calves without stint will be killed. I shall +do all I can to make him go; and so must you, Mr. Finn. Of course +that silly affair in foreign parts is not to make any difference +between you two.” + +Phineas smiled, and said he would do his best, and looked up into her +face, and was just able to talk to her as though things were going +comfortably with him. But his heart was very cold. As Violet had +spoken to him about Lord Chiltern there had come upon him, for the +first time,--for the first time since he had known that Lord Chiltern +had been refused,--an idea, a doubt, whether even yet Violet might +not become Lord Chiltern’s wife. His heart was very sad, but he +struggled on,--declaring that it was incumbent on them both to bring +together the father and son. + +“I am so glad to hear you say so, Mr. Finn,” said Violet. “I really +do believe that you can do more towards it than any one else. Lord +Chiltern would think nothing of my advice,--would hardly speak to me +on such a subject. But he respects you as well as likes you, and not +the less because of what has occurred.” + +How was it that Violet should know aught of the respect or liking +felt by this rejected suitor for that other suitor,--who had also +been rejected? And how was it that she was thus able to talk of one +of them to the other, as though neither of them had ever come forward +with such a suit? Phineas felt his position to be so strange as to be +almost burdensome. He had told Violet, when she had refused him, very +plainly, that he should come again to her, and ask once more for the +great gift which he coveted. But he could not ask again now. In the +first place, there was that in her manner which made him sure that +were he to do so, he would ask in vain; and then he felt that she was +placing a special confidence in him, against which he would commit a +sin were he to use her present intimacy with him for the purposes of +making love. They two were to put their shoulders together to help +Lord Chiltern, and while doing so he could not continue a suit which +would be felt by both of them to be hostile to Lord Chiltern. There +might be opportunity for a chance word, and if so the chance word +should be spoken; but he could not make a deliberate attack, such as +he had made in Portman Square. Violet also probably understood that +she had not now been caught in a mousetrap. + +The Duke was to spend four days at Matching, and on the third +day,--the day before Lord Chiltern was expected,--he was to be seen +riding with Madame Max Goesler by his side. Madame Max Goesler was +known as a perfect horsewoman,--one indeed who was rather fond of +going a little fast on horseback, and who rode well to hounds. But +the Duke seldom moved out of a walk, and on this occasion Madame Max +was as steady in her seat and almost as slow as the mounted ghost +in _Don Juan_. But it was said by some there, especially by Mrs. +Bonteen, that the conversation between them was not slow. And on the +next morning the Duke and Madame Max Goesler were together again +before luncheon, standing on a terrace at the back of the house, +looking down on a party who were playing croquet on the lawn. + +“Do you never play?” said the Duke. + +“Oh yes;--one does everything a little.” + +“I am sure you would play well. Why do you not play now?” + +“No;--I shall not play now.” + +“I should like to see you with your mallet.” + +“I am sorry your Grace cannot be gratified. I have played croquet +till I am tired of it, and have come to think it is only fit for +boys and girls. The great thing is to give them opportunities for +flirting, and it does that.” + +“And do you never flirt, Madame Goesler?” + +“Never at croquet, Duke.” + +“And what with you is the choicest time?” + +“That depends on so many things,--and so much on the chosen person. +What do you recommend?” + +“Ah,--I am so ignorant. I can recommend nothing.” + +“What do you say to a mountain-top at dawn on a summer day?” asked +Madame Max Goesler. + +“You make me shiver,” said the Duke. + +“Or a boat on a lake on a summer evening, or a good lead after hounds +with nobody else within three fields, or the bottom of a salt-mine, +or the deck of an ocean steamer, or a military hospital in time of +war, or a railway journey from Paris to Marseilles?” + +“Madame Max Goesler, you have the most uncomfortable ideas.” + +“I have no doubt your Grace has tried each of them,--successfully. +But perhaps, after all, a comfortable chair over a good fire, in a +pretty room, beats everything.” + +“I think it does,--certainly,” said the Duke. Then he whispered +something at which Madame Max Goesler blushed and smiled, and +immediately after that she followed those who had already gone in +to lunch. + +Mrs. Bonteen had been hovering round the spot on the terrace on which +the Duke and Madame Max Goesler had been standing, looking on with +envious eyes, meditating some attack, some interruption, some excuse +for an interpolation, but her courage had failed her and she had +not dared to approach. The Duke had known nothing of the hovering +propinquity of Mrs. Bonteen, but Madame Goesler had seen and had +understood it all. + +“Dear Mrs. Bonteen,” she said afterwards, “why did you not come and +join us? The Duke was so pleasant.” + +“Two is company, and three is none,” said Mrs. Bonteen, who in her +anger was hardly able to choose her words quite as well as she might +have done had she been more cool. + +“Our friend Madame Max has made quite a new conquest,” said Mrs. +Bonteen to Lady Glencora. + +“I am so pleased,” said Lady Glencora, with apparently unaffected +delight. “It is such a great thing to get anybody to amuse my uncle. +You see everybody cannot talk to him, and he will not talk to +everybody.” + +“He talked enough to her in all conscience,” said Mrs. Bonteen, who +was now more angry than ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +The Duellists Meet + + +Lord Chiltern arrived, and Phineas was a little nervous as to their +meeting. He came back from shooting on the day in question, and was +told by the servant that Lord Chiltern was in the house. Phineas went +into the billiard-room in his knickerbockers, thinking probably that +he might be there, and then into the drawing-room, and at last into +the library,--but Lord Chiltern was not to be found. At last he came +across Violet. + +“Have you seen him?” he asked. + +“Yes;--he was with me half an hour since, walking round the gardens.” + +“And how is he? Come;--tell me something about him.” + +“I never knew him to be more pleasant. He would give no promise about +Saulsby, but he did not say that he would not go.” + +“Does he know that I am here?” + +“Yes;--I told him so. I told him how much pleasure I should have in +seeing you two together,--as friends.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“He laughed, and said you were the best fellow in the world. You see +I am obliged to be explicit.” + +“But why did he laugh?” Phineas asked. + +“He did not tell me, but I suppose it was because he was thinking of +a little trip he once took to Belgium, and he perceived that I knew +all about it.” + +“I wonder who told you. But never mind. I do not mean to ask any +questions. As I do not like that our first meeting should be before +all the people in the drawing-room, I will go to him in his own +room.” + +“Do, do;--that will be so nice of you.” + +Phineas sent his card up by a servant, and in a few minutes was +standing with his hand on the lock of Lord Chiltern’s door. The last +time he had seen this man, they had met with pistols in their hands +to shoot at each other, and Lord Chiltern had in truth done his very +best to shoot his opponent. The cause of quarrel was the same between +them as ever. Phineas had not given up Violet, and had no intention +of giving her up. And he had received no intimation whatever from his +rival that there was to be a truce between them. Phineas had indeed +written in friendship to Lord Chiltern, but he had received no +answer;--and nothing of certainty was to be gathered from the report +which Violet had just made. It might well be that Lord Chiltern +would turn upon him now in his wrath, and that there would be some +scene which in a strange house would be obviously objectionable. +Nevertheless he had resolved that even that would be better than a +chance encounter among strangers in a drawing-room. So the door was +opened and the two men met. + +“Well, old fellow,” said Lord Chiltern, laughing. Then all doubt was +over, and in a moment Phineas was shaking his former,--and present +friend, warmly by the hand. “So we’ve come to be an Under-Secretary +have we?--and all that kind of thing.” + +“I had to get into harness,--when the harness offered itself,” said +Phineas. + +“I suppose so. It’s a deuce of a bore, isn’t it?” + +“I always liked work, you know.” + +“I thought you liked hunting better. You used to ride as if you did. +There’s Bonebreaker back again in the stable for you. That poor fool +who bought him could do nothing with him, and I let him have his +money back.” + +“I don’t see why you should have done that.” + +“Because I was the biggest fool of the two. Do you remember when that +brute got me down under the bank in the river? That was about the +nearest touch I ever had. Lord bless me;--how he did squeeze me! So +here you are;--staying with the Pallisers,--one of a Government party +I suppose. But what are you going to do for a seat, my friend?” + +“Don’t talk about that yet, Chiltern.” + +“A sore subject,--isn’t it? I think they have been quite right, you +know, to put Loughton into the melting-pot,--though I’m sorry enough +for your sake.” + +“Quite right,” said Phineas. + +“And yet you voted against it, old chap? But, come; I’m not going to +be down upon you. So my father has been here?” + +“Yes;--he was here for a day or two.” + +“Violet has just been telling me. You and he are as good friends as +ever?” + +“I trust we are.” + +“He never heard of that little affair?” And Lord Chiltern nodded his +head, intending to indicate the direction of Blankenberg. + +“I do not think he has yet.” + +“So Violet tells me. Of course you know that she has heard all about +it.” + +“I have reason to suppose as much.” + +“And so does Laura.” + +“I told her myself,” said Phineas. + +“The deuce you did! But I daresay it was for the best. It’s a pity +you had not proclaimed it at Charing Cross, and then nobody would +have believed a word about it. Of course my father will hear it some +day.” + +“You are going to Saulsby, I hope, Chiltern?” + +“That question is easier asked than answered. It is quite true that +the great difficulty has been got over. Laura has had her money. And +if my father will only acknowledge that he has wronged me throughout, +from beginning to end, I will go to Saulsby to-morrow;--and would cut +you out at Loughton the next day, only that Loughton is not Loughton +any longer.” + +“You cannot expect your father to do that.” + +“No;--and therefore there is a difficulty. So you’ve had that awfully +ponderous Duke here. How did you get on with him?” + +“Admirably. He condescended to do something which he called shaking +hands with me.” + +“He is the greatest old dust out,” said Lord Chiltern, +disrespectfully. “Did he take any notice of Violet?” + +“Not that I observed.” + +“He ought not to be allowed into the same room with her.” After that +there was a short pause, and Phineas felt some hesitation in speaking +of Miss Effingham to Lord Chiltern. “And how do you get on with her?” +asked Lord Chiltern. Here was a question for a man to answer. The +question was so hard to be answered, that Phineas did not at first +make any attempt to answer it. “You know exactly the ground that I +stand on,” continued Lord Chiltern. “She has refused me three times. +Have you been more fortunate?” + +Lord Chiltern, as he asked his question, looked full into Finn’s face +in a manner that was irresistible. His look was not one of anger nor +even of pride. It was not, indeed, without a strong dash of fun. But +such as it was it showed Phineas that Lord Chiltern intended to have +an answer. “No,” said he at last, “I have not been more fortunate.” + +“Perhaps you have changed your mind,” said his host. + +“No;--I have not changed my mind,” said Phineas, quickly. + +“How stands it then? Come;--let us be honest to each other. I told +you down at Willingford that I would quarrel with any man who +attempted to cut me out with Violet Effingham. You made up your mind +that you would do so, and therefore I quarrelled with you. But we +can’t always be fighting duels.” + +“I hope we may not have to fight another.” + +“No;--it would be absurd,” said Lord Chiltern. “I rather think that +what we did was absurd. But upon my life I did not see any other way +out of it. However, that is over. How is it to be now?” + +“What am I to say in answer to that?” asked Phineas. + +“Just the truth. You have asked her, I suppose?” + +“Yes;--I have asked her.” + +“And she has refused you?” + +“Yes;--she has refused me.” + +“And you mean to ask her again?” + +“I shall;--if I ever think that there is a chance. Indeed, Chiltern, +I believe I shall whether I think that I have any chance or not.” + +“Then we start fairly, Finn. I certainly shall do so. I believe +I once told you that I never would;--but that was long before I +suspected that you would enter for the same plate. What a man says on +such a matter when he is down in the mouth goes for nothing. Now we +understand each other, and you had better go and dress. The bell rang +nearly half an hour ago, and my fellow is hanging about outside the +door.” + +The interview had in one respect been very pleasant to Phineas, and +in another it had been very bitter. It was pleasant to him to know +that he and Lord Chiltern were again friends. It was a delight to +him to feel that this half-savage but high-spirited young nobleman, +who had been so anxious to fight with him and to shoot him, was +nevertheless ready to own that he had behaved well. Lord Chiltern +had in fact acknowledged that though he had been anxious to blow +out our hero’s brains, he was aware all the time that our hero was +a good sort of fellow. Phineas understood this, and felt that it +was pleasant. But with this understanding, and accompanying this +pleasure, there was a conviction in his heart that the distance +between Lord Chiltern and Violet would daily grow to be less and +still less,--and that Lord Chiltern could afford to be generous. If +Miss Effingham could teach herself to be fond of Lord Chiltern, what +had he, Phineas Finn, to offer in opposition to the claims of such a +suitor? + +That evening Lord Chiltern took Miss Effingham out to dinner. Phineas +told himself that this was of course so arranged by Lady Glencora, +with the express view of serving the Saulsby interest. It was almost +nothing to him at the moment that Madame Max Goesler was intrusted +to him. He had his ambition respecting Madame Max Goesler; but that +for the time was in abeyance. He could hardly keep his eyes off Miss +Effingham. And yet, as he well knew, his observation of her must be +quite useless. He knew beforehand, with absolute accuracy, the manner +in which she would treat her lover. She would be kind, genial, +friendly, confidential, nay, affectionate; and yet her manner would +mean nothing, would give no clue to her future decision either for or +against Lord Chiltern. It was, as Phineas thought, a peculiarity with +Violet Effingham that she could treat her rejected lovers as dear +familiar friends immediately after her rejection of them. + +“Mr. Finn,” said Madame Max Goesler, “your eyes and ears are +tell-tales of your passion.” + +“I hope not,” said Phineas, “as I certainly do not wish that any one +should guess how strong is my regard for you.” + +“That is prettily turned,--very prettily turned; and shows more +readiness of wit than I gave you credit for under your present +suffering. But of course we all know where your heart is. Men do not +undertake perilous journeys to Belgium for nothing.” + +“That unfortunate journey to Belgium! But, dear Madame Max, really +nobody knows why I went.” + +“You met Lord Chiltern there?” + +“Oh yes;--I met Lord Chiltern there.” + +“And there was a duel?” + +“Madame Max,--you must not ask me to criminate myself!” + +“Of course there was, and of course it was about Miss Effingham, and +of course the lady thinks herself bound to refuse both the gentlemen +who were so very wicked, and of course--” + +“Well,--what follows?” + +“Ah! if you have not wit enough to see, I do not think it can be my +duty to tell you. But I wished to caution you as a friend that your +eyes and ears should be more under your command.” + +“You will go to Saulsby?” Violet said to Lord Chiltern. + +“I cannot possibly tell as yet,” said he, frowning. + +“Then I can tell you that you ought to go. I do not care a bit for +your frowns. What does the fifth commandment say?” + +“If you have no better arguments than the commandments, Violet--” + +“There can be none better. Do you mean to say that the commandments +are nothing to you?” + +“I mean to say that I shan’t go to Saulsby because I am told in the +twentieth chapter of Exodus to honour my father and mother,--and that +I shouldn’t believe anybody who told me that he did anything because +of the commandments.” + +“Oh, Lord Chiltern!” + +“People are so prejudiced and so used to humbug that for the most +part they do not in the least know their own motives for what they +do. I will go to Saulsby to-morrow,--for a reward.” + +“For what reward?” said Violet, blushing. + +“For the only one in the world that could tempt me to do anything.” + +“You should go for the sake of duty. I should not even care to see +you go, much as I long for it, if that feeling did not take you +there.” + +It was arranged that Phineas and Lord Chiltern were to leave Matching +together. Phineas was to remain at his office all October, and in +November the general election was to take place. What he had hitherto +heard about a future seat was most vague, but he was to meet Ratler +and Barrington Erle in London, and it had been understood that +Barrington Erle, who was now at Saulsby, was to make some inquiry as +to that group of boroughs of which Loughton at this moment formed +one. But as Loughton was the smallest of four boroughs, and as one of +the four had for many years had a representative of its own, Phineas +feared that no success would be found there. In his present agony +he began to think that there might be a strong plea made for a +few private seats in the House of Commons, and that the propriety +of throwing Loughton into the melting-pot was, after all, open to +question. He and Lord Chiltern were to return to London together, +and Lord Chiltern, according to his present scheme, was to proceed +at once to Willingford to look after the cub-hunting. Nothing that +either Violet or Phineas could say to him would induce him to +promise to go to Saulsby. When Phineas pressed it, he was told by +Lord Chiltern that he was a fool for his pains,--by which Phineas +understood perfectly well that when Lord Chiltern did go to Saulsby, +he, Phineas, was to take that as strong evidence that everything was +over for him as regarded Violet Effingham. When Violet expressed her +eagerness that the visit should be made, she was stopped with an +assurance that she could have it done at once if she pleased. Let him +only be enabled to carry with him the tidings of his betrothal, and +he would start for his father’s house without an hour’s delay. But +this authority Violet would not give him. When he answered her after +this fashion she could only tell him that he was ungenerous. “At any +rate I am not false,” he replied on one occasion. “What I say is the +truth.” + +There was a very tender parting between Phineas and Madame Max +Goesler. She had learned from him pretty nearly all his history, and +certainly knew more of the reality of his affairs than any of those +in London who had been his most staunch friends. “Of course you’ll +get a seat,” she said as he took his leave of her. “If I understand +it at all, they never throw over an ally so useful as you are.” + +“But the intention is that in this matter nobody shall any longer +have the power of throwing over, or of not throwing over, anybody.” + +“That is all very well, my friend; but cakes will still be hot in the +mouth, even though Mr. Daubeny turn purist, with Mr. Turnbull to help +him. If you want any assistance in finding a seat you will not go to +the _People’s Banner_,--even yet.” + +“Certainly not to the _People’s Banner_.” + +“I don’t quite understand what the franchise is,” continued Madame +Max Goesler. + +“Household in boroughs,” said Phineas with some energy. + +“Very well;--household in boroughs. I daresay that is very fine and +very liberal, though I don’t comprehend it in the least. And you want +a borough. Very well. You won’t go to the households. I don’t think +you will;--not at first, that is.” + +“Where shall I go then?” + +“Oh,--to some great patron of a borough;--or to a club;--or perhaps +to some great firm. The households will know nothing about it till +they are told. Is not that it?” + +“The truth is, Madame Max, I do not know where I shall go. I am like +a child lost in a wood. And you may understand this;--if you do not +see me in Park Lane before the end of January, I shall have perished +in the wood.” + +“Then I will come and find you,--with a troop of householders. You +will come. You will be there. I do not believe in death coming +without signs. You are full of life.” As she spoke, she had hold +of his hand, and there was nobody near them. They were in a little +book-room inside the library at Matching, and the door, though not +latched, was nearly closed. Phineas had flattered himself that Madame +Goesler had retreated there in order that this farewell might be +spoken without interruption. “And, Mr. Finn;--I wonder whether I may +say one thing,” she continued. + +“You may say anything to me,” he replied. + +“No,--not in this country, in this England. There are things one +may not say here,--that are tabooed by a sort of consent,--and that +without any reason.” She paused again, and Phineas was at a loss to +think what was the subject on which she was about to speak. Could she +mean--? No; she could not mean to give him any outward plain-spoken +sign that she was attached to him. It was the peculiar merit of this +man that he was not vain, though much was done to him to fill him +with vanity; and as the idea crossed his brain, he hated himself +because it had been there. + +“To me you may say anything, Madame Goesler,” he said,--“here in +England, as plainly as though we were in Vienna.” + +“But I cannot say it in English,” she said. Then in French, blushing +and laughing as she spoke,--almost stammering in spite of her usual +self-confidence,--she told him that accident had made her rich, full +of money. Money was a drug with her. Money she knew was wanted, even +for householders. Would he not understand her, and come to her, and +learn from her how faithful a woman could be? + +He still was holding her by the hand, and he now raised it to +his lips and kissed it. “The offer from you,” he said, “is as +high-minded, as generous, and as honourable as its acceptance by me +would be mean-spirited, vile, and ignoble. But whether I fail or +whether I succeed, you shall see me before the winter is over.” + + + + +CHAPTER L + +Again Successful + + +Phineas also said a word of farewell to Violet before he left +Matching, but there was nothing peculiar in her little speech to him, +or in his to her. “Of course we shall see each other in London. Don’t +talk of not being in the House. Of course you will be in the House.” +Then Phineas had shaken his head and smiled. Where was he to find +a requisite number of householders prepared to return him? But as +he went up to London he told himself that the air of the House of +Commons was now the very breath of his nostrils. Life to him without +it would be no life. To have come within the reach of the good things +of political life, to have made his mark so as to have almost insured +future success, to have been the petted young official aspirant of +the day,--and then to sink down into the miserable platitudes of +private life, to undergo daily attendance in law-courts without +a brief, to listen to men who had come to be much below him in +estimation and social intercourse, to sit in a wretched chamber up +three pairs of stairs at Lincoln’s Inn, whereas he was now at this +moment provided with a gorgeous apartment looking out into the Park +from the Colonial Office in Downing Street, to be attended by a +mongrel between a clerk and an errand boy at 17s. 6d. a week instead +of by a private secretary who was the son of an earl’s sister, and +was petted by countesses’ daughters innumerable,--all this would +surely break his heart. He could have done it, so he told himself, +and could have taken glory in doing it, had not these other things +come in his way. But the other things had come. He had run the risk, +and had thrown the dice. And now when the game was so nearly won, +must it be that everything should be lost at last? + +He knew that nothing was to be gained by melancholy looks at his +club, or by show of wretchedness at his office. London was very +empty; but the approaching elections still kept some there who +otherwise would have been looking after the first flush of pheasants. +Barrington Erle was there, and was not long in asking Phineas what +were his views. + +“Ah;--that is so hard to say. Ratler told me that he would be looking +about.” + +“Ratler is very well in the House,” said Barrington, “but he is of no +use for anything beyond it. I suppose you were not brought up at the +London University?” + +“Oh no,” said Phineas, remembering the glories of Trinity. + +“Because there would have been an opening. What do you say to +Stratford,--the new Essex borough?” + +“Broadbury the brewer is there already!” + +“Yes;--and ready to spend any money you like to name. Let me see. +Loughton is grouped with Smotherem, and Walker is a deal too strong +at Smotherem to hear of any other claim. I don’t think we could dare +to propose it. There are the Chelsea hamlets, but it will take a wack +of money.” + +“I have not got a wack of money,” said Phineas, laughing. + +“That’s the devil of it. I think, if I were you, I should hark back +upon some place in Ireland. Couldn’t you get Laurence to give you up +his seat?” + +“What! Fitzgibbon?” + +“Yes. He has not a ghost of a chance of getting into office again. +Nothing on earth would induce him to look at a paper during all those +weeks he was at the Colonial Office; and when Cantrip spoke to him, +all he said was, ‘Ah, bother!’ Cantrip did not like it, I can tell +you.” + +“But that wouldn’t make him give up his seat.” + +“Of course you’d have to arrange it.” By which Phineas understood +Barrington Erle to mean that he, Phineas, was in some way to give to +Laurence Fitzgibbon some adequate compensation for the surrender of +his position as a county member. + +“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” said Phineas. “If he were to +go, I should not get it.” + +“Would you have a chance at Loughshane?” + +“I was thinking of trying it,” said Phineas. + +“Of course you know that Morris is very ill.” This Mr. Morris was +the brother of Lord Tulla, and was the sitting member of Loughshane. +“Upon my word I think I should try that. I don’t see where we’re to +put our hands on a seat in England. I don’t indeed.” Phineas, as +he listened to this, could not help thinking that Barrington Erle, +though he had certainly expressed a great deal of solicitude, was not +as true a friend as he used to be. Perhaps he, Phineas, had risen too +fast, and Barrington Erle was beginning to think that he might as +well be out of the way. + +He wrote to his father, asking after the borough, and asking after +the health of Mr. Morris. And in his letter he told his own story +very plainly,--almost pathetically. He perhaps had been wrong to +make the attempt which he had made. He began to believe that he had +been wrong. But at any rate he had made it so far successfully, and +failure now would be doubly bitter. He thought that the party to +which he belonged must now remain in office. It would hardly be +possible that a new election would produce a House of Commons +favourable to a conservative ministry. And with a liberal ministry +he, Phineas, would be sure of his place, and sure of an official +income,--if only he could find a seat. It was all very true, and was +almost pathetic. The old doctor, who was inclined to be proud of his +son, was not unwilling to make a sacrifice. Mrs. Finn declared before +her daughters that if there was a seat in all Ireland, Phineas ought +to have it. And Mary Flood Jones stood by listening, and wondering +what Phineas would do if he lost his seat. Would he come back and +live in County Clare, and be like any other girl’s lover? Poor Mary +had come to lose her ambition, and to think that girls whose lovers +stayed at home were the happiest. Nevertheless, she would have walked +all the way to Lord Tulla’s house and back again, might that have +availed to get the seat for Phineas. Then there came an express over +from Castlemorris. The doctor was wanted at once to see Mr. Morris. +Mr. Morris was very bad with gout in his stomach. According to the +messenger it was supposed that Mr. Morris was dying. Before Dr. Finn +had had an opportunity of answering his son’s letter, Mr. Morris, the +late member for Loughshane, had been gathered to his fathers. + +Dr. Finn understood enough of elections for Parliament, and of the +nature of boroughs, to be aware that a candidate’s chance of success +is very much improved by being early in the field; and he was aware, +also, that the death of Mr. Morris would probably create various +aspirants for the honour of representing Loughshane. But he could +hardly address the Earl on the subject while the dead body of the +late member was lying in the house at Castlemorris. The bill which +had passed in the late session for reforming the constitution of the +House of Commons had not touched Ireland, a future measure having +been promised to the Irish for their comfort; and Loughshane +therefore was, as to Lord Tulla’s influence, the same as it had ever +been. He had not there the plenary power which the other lord had +held in his hands in regard to Loughton;--but still the Castlemorris +interest would go a long way. It might be possible to stand against +it, but it would be much more desirable that the candidate should +have it at his back. Dr. Finn was fully alive to this as he sat +opposite to the old lord, saying now a word about the old lord’s gout +in his legs and arms, and then about the gout in the stomach, which +had carried away to another world the lamented late member for the +borough. + +“Poor Jack!” said Lord Tulla, piteously. “If I’d known it, I needn’t +have paid over two thousand pounds for him last year;--need I, +doctor?” + +“No, indeed,” said Dr. Finn, feeling that his patient might perhaps +approach the subject of the borough himself. + +“He never would live by any rule, you know,” said the desolate +brother. + +“Very hard to guide;--was he not, my lord?” + +“The very devil. Now, you see, I do do what I’m told pretty +well,--don’t I, doctor?” + +“Sometimes.” + +“By George, I do nearly always. I don’t know what you mean by +sometimes. I’ve been drinking brandy-and-water till I’m sick of it, +to oblige you, and you tell me about--sometimes. You doctors expect +a man to be a slave. Haven’t I kept it out of my stomach?” + +“Thank God, yes.” + +“It’s all very well thanking God, but I should have gone as poor Jack +has gone, if I hadn’t been the most careful man in the world. He was +drinking champagne ten days ago;--would do it, you know.” Lord Tulla +could talk about himself and his own ailments by the hour together, +and Dr. Finn, who had thought that his noble patient was approaching +the subject of the borough, was beginning again to feel that the +double interest of the gout that was present, and the gout that had +passed away, would be too absorbing. He, however, could say but +little to direct the conversation. + +“Mr. Morris, you see, lived more in London than you do, and was +subject to temptation.” + +“I don’t know what you call temptation. Haven’t I the temptation of a +bottle of wine under my nose every day of my life?” + +“No doubt you have.” + +“And I don’t drink it. I hardly ever take above a glass or two of +brown sherry. By George! when I think of it, I wonder at my own +courage. I do, indeed.” + +“But a man in London, my lord--” + +“Why the deuce would he go to London? By-the-bye, what am I to do +about the borough now?” + +“Let my son stand for it, if you will, my lord.” + +“They’ve clean swept away Brentford’s seat at Loughton, haven’t they? +Ha, ha, ha! What a nice game for him,--to have been forced to help to +do it himself! There’s nobody on earth I pity so much as a radical +peer who is obliged to work like a nigger with a spade to shovel away +the ground from under his own feet. As for me, I don’t care who sits +for Loughshane. I did care for poor Jack while he was alive. I don’t +think I shall interfere any longer. I am glad it lasted Jack’s time.” +Lord Tulla had probably already forgotten that he himself had thrown +Jack over for the last session but one. + +“Phineas, my lord,” began the father, “is now Under-Secretary of +State.” + +“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’s a very fine fellow;--but you see, he’s an +out-and-out Radical.” + +“No, my lord.” + +“Then how can he serve with such men as Mr. Gresham and Mr. Monk? +They’ve turned out poor old Mildmay among them, because he’s not fast +enough for them. Don’t tell me.” + +“My anxiety, of course, is for my boy’s prospects. He seems to have +done so well in Parliament.” + +“Why don’t he stand for Marylebone or Finsbury?” + +“The money, you know, my lord!” + +“I shan’t interfere here, doctor. If he comes, and the people then +choose to return him, I shall say nothing. They may do just as they +please. They tell me Lambert St. George, of Mockrath, is going to +stand. If he does, it’s the d---- piece of impudence I ever heard +of. He’s a tenant of my own, though he has a lease for ever; and +his father never owned an acre of land in the county till his uncle +died.” Then the doctor knew that, with a little management, the +lord’s interest might be secured for his son. + +Phineas came over and stood for the borough against Mr. Lambert +St. George, and the contest was sharp enough. The gentry of the +neighbourhood could not understand why such a man as Lord Tulla +should admit a liberal candidate to succeed his brother. No one +canvassed for the young Under-Secretary with more persistent zeal +than did his father, who, when Phineas first spoke of going into +Parliament, had produced so many good arguments against that perilous +step. Lord Tulla’s agent stood aloof,--desolate with grief at the +death of the late member. At such a moment of family affliction, Lord +Tulla, he declared, could not think of such a matter as the borough. +But it was known that Lord Tulla was dreadfully jealous of Mr. +Lambert St. George, whose property in that part of the county was now +nearly equal to his own, and who saw much more company at Mockrath +than was ever entertained at Castlemorris. A word from Lord +Tulla,--so said the Conservatives of the county,--would have put +Mr. St. George into the seat; but that word was not spoken, and +the Conservatives of the neighbourhood swore that Lord Tulla was a +renegade. The contest was very sharp, but our hero was returned by a +majority of seventeen votes. + +Again successful! As he thought of it he remembered stories of great +generals who were said to have chained Fortune to the wheels of their +chariots, but it seemed to him that the goddess had never served +any general with such staunch obedience as she had displayed in his +cause. Had not everything gone well with him;--so well, as almost to +justify him in expecting that even yet Violet Effingham would become +his wife? Dear, dearest Violet! If he could only achieve that, no +general, who ever led an army across the Alps, would be his equal +either in success or in the reward of success. Then he questioned +himself as to what he would say to Miss Flood Jones on that very +night. He was to meet dear little Mary Flood Jones that evening at a +neighbour’s house. His sister Barbara had so told him in a tone of +voice which he quite understood to imply a caution. “I shall be so +glad to see her,” Phineas had replied. + +“If there ever was an angel on earth, it is Mary,” said Barbara Finn. + +“I know that she is as good as gold,” said Phineas. + +“Gold!” replied Barbara,--“gold indeed! She is more precious than +refined gold. But, Phineas, perhaps you had better not single her out +for any special attention. She has thought it wisest to meet you.” + +“Of course,” said Phineas. “Why not?” + +“That is all, Phineas. I have nothing more to say. Men of course are +different from girls.” + +“That’s true, Barbara, at any rate.” + +“Don’t laugh at me, Phineas, when I am thinking of nothing but of you +and your interests, and when I am making all manner of excuses for +you because I know what must be the distractions of the world in +which you live.” Barbara made more than one attempt to renew the +conversation before the evening came, but Phineas thought that he had +had enough of it. He did not like being told that excuses were made +for him. After all, what had he done? He had once kissed Mary Flood +Jones behind the door. + +“I am so glad to see you, Mary,” he said, coming and taking a chair +by her side. He had been specially warned not to single Mary out for +his attention, and yet there was the chair left vacant as though it +were expected that he would fall into it. + +“Thank you. We did not happen to meet last year, did we,--Mr. Finn?” + +“Do not call me Mr. Finn, Mary.” + +“You are such a great man now!” + +“Not at all a great man. If you only knew what little men we +understrappers are in London you would hardly speak to me.” + +“But you are something--of State now;--are you not?” + +“Well;--yes. That’s the name they give me. It simply means that if +any member wants to badger some one in the House about the Colonies, +I am the man to be badgered. But if there is any credit to be had, I +am not the man who is to have it.” + +“But it is a great thing to be in Parliament and in the Government +too.” + +“It is a great thing for me, Mary, to have a salary, though it may +only be for a year or two. However, I will not deny that it is +pleasant to have been successful.” + +“It has been very pleasant to us, Phineas. Mamma has been so much +rejoiced.” + +“I am so sorry not to see her. She is at Floodborough, I suppose.” + +“Oh, yes;--she is at home. She does not like coming out at night in +winter. I have been staying here you know for two days, but I go home +to-morrow.” + +“I will ride over and call on your mother.” Then there was a pause in +the conversation for a moment. “Does it not seem odd, Mary, that we +should see so little of each other?” + +“You are so much away, of course.” + +“Yes;--that is the reason. But still it seems almost unnatural. I +often wonder when the time will come that I shall be quietly at home +again. I have to be back in my office in London this day week, and +yet I have not had a single hour to myself since I have been at +Killaloe. But I will certainly ride over and see your mother. You +will be at home on Wednesday I suppose.” + +“Yes,--I shall be at home.” + +Upon that he got up and went away, but again in the evening he found +himself near her. Perhaps there is no position more perilous to a +man’s honesty than that in which Phineas now found himself;--that, +namely, of knowing himself to be quite loved by a girl whom he almost +loves himself. Of course he loved Violet Effingham; and they who talk +best of love protest that no man or woman can be in love with two +persons at once. Phineas was not in love with Mary Flood Jones; but +he would have liked to take her in his arms and kiss her;--he would +have liked to gratify her by swearing that she was dearer to him than +all the world; he would have liked to have an episode,--and did, +at the moment, think that it might be possible to have one life in +London and another life altogether different at Killaloe. “Dear +Mary,” he said as he pressed her hand that night, “things will get +themselves settled at last, I suppose.” He was behaving very ill to +her, but he did not mean to behave ill. + +He rode over to Floodborough, and saw Mrs. Flood Jones. Mrs. Flood +Jones, however, received him very coldly; and Mary did not appear. +Mary had communicated to her mother her resolutions as to her future +life. “The fact is, mamma, I love him. I cannot help it. If he ever +chooses to come for me, here I am. If he does not, I will bear it as +well as I can. It may be very mean of me, but it’s true.” + + + + +CHAPTER LI + +Troubles at Loughlinter + + +There was a dull house at Loughlinter during the greater part of +this autumn. A few men went down for the grouse shooting late in the +season; but they stayed but a short time, and when they went Lady +Laura was left alone with her husband. Mr. Kennedy had explained to +his wife, more than once, that though he understood the duties of +hospitality and enjoyed the performance of them, he had not married +with the intention of living in a whirlwind. He was disposed to think +that the whirlwind had hitherto been too predominant, and had said so +very plainly with a good deal of marital authority. This autumn and +winter were to be devoted to the cultivation of proper relations +between him and his wife. “Does that mean Darby and Joan?” his wife +had asked him, when the proposition was made to her. “It means mutual +regard and esteem,” replied Mr. Kennedy in his most solemn tone, +“and I trust that such mutual regard and esteem between us may yet +be possible.” When Lady Laura showed him a letter from her brother, +received some weeks after this conversation, in which Lord Chiltern +expressed his intention of coming to Loughlinter for Christmas, he +returned the note to his wife without a word. He suspected that she +had made the arrangement without asking him, and was angry; but he +would not tell her that her brother would not be welcome at his +house. “It is not my doing,” she said, when she saw the frown on his +brow. + +“I said nothing about anybody’s doing,” he replied. + +“I will write to Oswald and bid him not come, if you wish it. Of +course you can understand why he is coming.” + +“Not to see me, I am sure,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“Nor me,” replied Lady Laura. “He is coming because my friend Violet +Effingham will be here.” + +“Miss Effingham! Why was I not told of this? I knew nothing of Miss +Effingham’s coming.” + +“Robert, it was settled in your own presence last July.” + +“I deny it.” + +Then Lady Laura rose up, very haughty in her gait and with something +of fire in her eye, and silently left the room. Mr. Kennedy, when he +found himself alone, was very unhappy. Looking back in his mind to +the summer weeks in London, he remembered that his wife had told +Violet that she was to spend her Christmas at Loughlinter, that he +himself had given a muttered assent and that Violet,--as far as he +could remember,--had made no reply. It had been one of those things +which are so often mentioned, but not settled. He felt that he had +been strictly right in denying that it had been “settled” in his +presence;--but yet he felt that he had been wrong in contradicting +his wife so peremptorily. He was a just man, and he would apologise +for his fault; but he was an austere man, and would take back the +value of his apology in additional austerity. He did not see his wife +for some hours after the conversation which has been narrated, but +when he did meet her his mind was still full of the subject. “Laura”, +he said, “I am sorry that I contradicted you.” + +“I am quite used to it, Robert.” + +“No;--you are not used to it.” She smiled and bowed her head. “You +wrong me by saying that you are used to it.” Then he paused a moment, +but she said not a word,--only smiled and bowed her head again. “I +remember,” he continued, “that something was said in my presence to +Miss Effingham about her coming here at Christmas. It was so slight, +however, that it had passed out of my memory till recalled by an +effort. I beg your pardon.” + +“That is unnecessary, Robert.” + +“It is, dear.” + +“And do you wish that I should put her off,--or put Oswald off,--or +both? My brother never yet has seen me in your house.” + +“And whose fault has that been?” + +“I have said nothing about anybody’s fault, Robert. I merely +mentioned a fact. Will you let me know whether I shall bid him stay +away?” + +“He is welcome to come,--only I do not like assignations for +love-making.” + +“Assignations!” + +“Clandestine meetings. Lady Baldock would not wish it.” + +“Lady Baldock! Do you think that Violet would exercise any secrecy in +the matter,--or that she will not tell Lady Baldock that Oswald will +be here,--as soon as she knows it herself?” + +“That has nothing to do with it.” + +“Surely, Robert, it must have much to do with it. And why should not +these two young people meet? The acknowledged wish of all the family +is that they should marry each other. And in this matter, at any +rate, my brother has behaved extremely well.” Mr. Kennedy said +nothing further at the time, and it became an understanding that +Violet Effingham was to be a month at Loughlinter, staying from the +20th of December to the 20th of January, and that Lord Chiltern was +to come there for Christmas,--which with him would probably mean +three days. + +Before Christmas came, however, there were various other sources of +uneasiness at Loughlinter. There had been, as a matter of course, +great anxiety as to the elections. With Lady Laura this anxiety had +been very strong, and even Mr. Kennedy had been warmed with some +amount of fire as the announcements reached him of the successes +and of the failures. The English returns came first,--and then +the Scotch, which were quite as interesting to Mr. Kennedy as the +English. His own seat was quite safe,--was not contested; but some +neighbouring seats were sources of great solicitude. Then, when this +was over, there were the tidings from Ireland to be received; and +respecting one special borough in Ireland, Lady Laura evinced more +solicitude than her husband approved. There was much danger for the +domestic bliss of the house of Loughlinter, when things came to such +a pass, and such words were spoken, as the election at Loughshane +produced. + +“He is in,” said Lady Laura, opening a telegram. + +“Who is in?” said Mr. Kennedy, with that frown on his brow to which +his wife was now well accustomed. Though he asked the question, he +knew very well who was the hero to whom the telegram referred. + +“Our friend Phineas Finn,” said Lady Laura, speaking still with an +excited voice,--with a voice that was intended to display excitement. +If there was to be a battle on this matter, there should be a battle. +She would display all her anxiety for her young friend, and fling +it in her husband’s face if he chose to take it as an injury. +What,--should she endure reproach from her husband because she +regarded the interests of the man who had saved his life, of the man +respecting whom she had suffered so many heart-struggles, and as to +whom she had at last come to the conclusion that he should ever be +regarded as a second brother, loved equally with the elder brother? +She had done her duty by her husband,--so at least she had assured +herself;--and should he dare to reproach her on this subject, she +would be ready for the battle. And now the battle came. “I am glad +of this,” she said, with all the eagerness she could throw into her +voice. “I am, indeed,--and so ought you to be.” The husband’s brow +grew blacker and blacker, but still he said nothing. He had long +been too proud to be jealous, and was now too proud to express his +jealousy,--if only he could keep the expression back. But his wife +would not leave the subject. “I am so thankful for this,” she said, +pressing the telegram between her hands. “I was so afraid he would +fail!” + +“You over-do your anxiety on such a subject,” at last he said, +speaking very slowly. + +“What do you mean, Robert? How can I be over-anxious? If it concerned +any other dear friend that I have in the world, it would not be an +affair of life and death. To him it is almost so. I would have walked +from here to London to get him his election.” And as she spoke she +held up the clenched fist of her left hand, and shook it, while she +still held the telegram in her right hand. + +“Laura, I must tell you that it is improper that you should speak +of any man in those terms;--of any man that is a stranger to your +blood.” + +“A stranger to my blood! What has that to do with it? This man is my +friend, is your friend;--saved your life, has been my brother’s best +friend, is loved by my father,--and is loved by me, very dearly. Tell +me what you mean by improper!” + +“I will not have you love any man,--very dearly.” + +“Robert!” + +“I tell you that I will have no such expressions from you. They are +unseemly, and are used only to provoke me.” + +“Am I to understand that I am insulted by an accusation? If so, let +me beg at once that I may be allowed to go to Saulsby. I would rather +accept your apology and retractation there than here.” + +“You will not go to Saulsby, and there has been no accusation, and +there will be no apology. If you please there will be no more mention +of Mr. Finn’s name between us, for the present. If you will take my +advice you will cease to think of him extravagantly;--and I must +desire you to hold no further direct communication with him.” + +“I have held no communication with him,” said Lady Laura, advancing a +step towards him. But Mr. Kennedy simply pointed to the telegram in +her hand, and left the room. Now in respect to this telegram there +had been an unfortunate mistake. I am not prepared to say that there +was any reason why Phineas himself should not have sent the news of +his success to Lady Laura; but he had not done so. The piece of paper +which she still held crushed in her hand was in itself very innocent. +“Hurrah for the Loughshanes. Finny has done the trick.” Such were +the words written on the slip, and they had been sent to Lady Laura +by her young cousin, the clerk in the office who acted as private +secretary to the Under-Secretary of State. Lady Laura resolved that +her husband should never see those innocent but rather undignified +words. The occasion had become one of importance, and such words were +unworthy of it. Besides, she would not condescend to defend herself +by bringing forward a telegram as evidence in her favour. So she +burned the morsel of paper. + +Lady Laura and Mr. Kennedy did not meet again till late that evening. +She was ill, she said, and would not come down to dinner. After +dinner she wrote him a note. “Dear Robert, I think you must regret +what you said to me. If so, pray let me have a line from you to that +effect. Yours affectionately, L.” When the servant handed it to him, +and he had read it, he smiled and thanked the girl who had brought +it, and said he would see her mistress just now. Anything would be +better than that the servants should know that there was a quarrel. +But every servant in the house had known all about it for the last +three hours. When the door was closed and he was alone, he sat +fingering the note, thinking deeply how he should answer it, or +whether he would answer it at all. No; he would not answer it;--not +in writing. He would give his wife no written record of his +humiliation. He had not acted wrongly. He had said nothing more than +now, upon mature consideration, he thought that the circumstances +demanded. But yet he felt that he must in some sort withdraw the +accusation which he had made. If he did not withdraw it, there was no +knowing what his wife might do. About ten in the evening he went up +to her and made his little speech. “My dear, I have come to answer +your note.” + +“I thought you would have written to me a line.” + +“I have come instead, Laura. Now, if you will listen to me for one +moment, I think everything will be made smooth.” + +“Of course I will listen,” said Lady Laura, knowing very well that +her husband’s moment would be rather tedious, and resolving that she +also would have her moment afterwards. + +“I think you will acknowledge that if there be a difference of +opinion between you and me as to any question of social intercourse, +it will be better that you should consent to adopt my opinion.” + +“You have the law on your side.” + +“I am not speaking of the law.” + +“Well;--go on, Robert. I will not interrupt you if I can help it.” + +“I am not speaking of the law. I am speaking simply of convenience, +and of that which you must feel to be right. If I wish that your +intercourse with any person should be of such or such a nature it +must be best that you should comply with my wishes.” He paused for +her assent, but she neither assented nor dissented. “As far as I can +understand the position of a man and wife in this country, there is +no other way in which life can be made harmonious.” + +“Life will not run in harmonies.” + +“I expect that ours shall be made to do so, Laura. I need hardly say +to you that I intend to accuse you of no impropriety of feeling in +reference to this young man.” + +“No, Robert; you need hardly say that. Indeed, to speak my own mind, +I think that you need hardly have alluded to it. I might go further, +and say that such an allusion is in itself an insult,--an insult now +repeated after hours of deliberation,--an insult which I will not +endure to have repeated again. If you say another word in any way +suggesting the possibility of improper relations between me and Mr. +Finn, either as to deeds or thoughts, as God is above me, I will +write to both my father and my brother, and desire them to take me +from your house. If you wish me to remain here, you had better be +careful!” As she was making this speech, her temper seemed to rise, +and to become hot, and then hotter, till it glowed with a red heat. +She had been cool till the word insult, used by herself, had conveyed +back to her a strong impression of her own wrong,--or perhaps I +should rather say a strong feeling of the necessity of becoming +indignant. She was standing as she spoke, and the fire flashed from +her eyes, and he quailed before her. The threat which she had held +out to him was very dreadful to him. He was a man terribly in fear +of the world’s good opinion, who lacked the courage to go through a +great and harassing trial in order that something better might come +afterwards. His married life had been unhappy. His wife had not +submitted either to his will or to his ways. He had that great desire +to enjoy his full rights, so strong in the minds of weak, ambitious +men, and he had told himself that a wife’s obedience was one of those +rights which he could not abandon without injury to his self-esteem. +He had thought about the matter, slowly, as was his wont, and had +resolved that he would assert himself. He had asserted himself, and +his wife told him to his face that she would go away and leave him. +He could detain her legally, but he could not do even that without +the fact of such forcible detention being known to all the world. +How was he to answer her now at this moment, so that she might not +write to her father, and so that his self-assertion might still be +maintained? + +“Passion, Laura, can never be right.” + +“Would you have a woman submit to insult without passion? I at any +rate am not such a woman.” Then there was a pause for a moment. “If +you have nothing else to say to me, you had better leave me. I am far +from well, and my head is throbbing.” + +He came up and took her hand, but she snatched it away from him. +“Laura,” he said, “do not let us quarrel.” + +“I certainly shall quarrel if such insinuations are repeated.” + +“I made no insinuation.” + +“Do not repeat them. That is all.” + +He was cowed and left her, having first attempted to get out of the +difficulty of his position by making much of her alleged illness, and +by offering to send for Dr. Macnuthrie. She positively refused to see +Dr. Macnuthrie, and at last succeeded in inducing him to quit the +room. + +This had occurred about the end of November, and on the 20th of +December Violet Effingham reached Loughlinter. Life in Mr. Kennedy’s +house had gone quietly during the intervening three weeks, but not +very pleasantly. The name of Phineas Finn had not been mentioned. +Lady Laura had triumphed; but she had no desire to acerbate her +husband by any unpalatable allusion to her victory. And he was quite +willing to let the subject die away, if only it would die. On some +other matters he continued to assert himself, taking his wife to +church twice every Sunday, using longer family prayers than she +approved, reading an additional sermon himself every Sunday evening, +calling upon her for weekly attention to elaborate household +accounts, asking for her personal assistance in much local visiting, +initiating her into his favourite methods of family life in the +country, till sometimes she almost longed to talk again about Phineas +Finn, so that there might be a rupture, and she might escape. But her +husband asserted himself within bounds, and she submitted, longing +for the coming of Violet Effingham. She could not write to her father +and beg to be taken away, because her husband would read a sermon to +her on Sunday evening. + +To Violet, very shortly after her arrival, she told her whole story. +“This is terrible,” said Violet. “This makes me feel that I never +will be married.” + +“And yet what can a woman become if she remain single? The curse is +to be a woman at all.” + +“I have always felt so proud of the privileges of my sex,” said +Violet. + +“I never have found them,” said the other; “never. I have tried to +make the best of its weaknesses, and this is what I have come to! I +suppose I ought to have loved some man.” + +“And did you never love any man?” + +“No;--I think I never did,--not as people mean when they speak of +love. I have felt that I would consent to be cut in little pieces for +my brother,--because of my regard for him.” + +“Ah, that is nothing.” + +“And I have felt something of the same thing for another,--a longing +for his welfare, a delight to hear him praised, a charm in his +presence,--so strong a feeling for his interest, that were he to go +to wrack and ruin, I too, should, after a fashion, be wracked and +ruined. But it has not been love either.” + +“Do I know whom you mean? May I name him? It is Phineas Finn.” + +“Of course it is Phineas Finn.” + +“Did he ever ask you,--to love him?” + +“I feared he would do so, and therefore accepted Mr. Kennedy’s offer +almost at the first word.” + +“I do not quite understand your reasoning, Laura.” + +“I understand it. I could have refused him nothing in my power to +give him, but I did not wish to be his wife.” + +“And he never asked you?” + +Lady Laura paused a moment, thinking what reply she should make;--and +then she told a fib. “No; he never asked me.” But Violet did not +believe the fib. Violet was quite sure that Phineas had asked Lady +Laura Standish to be his wife. “As far as I can see,” said Violet, +“Madame Max Goesler is his present passion.” + +“I do not believe it in the least,” said Lady Laura, firing up. + +“It does not much matter,” said Violet. + +“It would matter very much. You know, you,--you; you know whom he +loves. And I do believe that sooner or later you will be his wife.” + +“Never.” + +“Yes, you will. Had you not loved him you would never have +condescended to accuse him about that woman.” + +“I have not accused him. Why should he not marry Madame Max Goesler? +It would be just the thing for him. She is very rich.” + +“Never. You will be his wife.” + +“Laura, you are the most capricious of women. You have two dear +friends, and you insist that I shall marry them both. Which shall I +take first?” + +“Oswald will be here in a day or two, and you can take him if you +like it. No doubt he will ask you. But I do not think you will.” + +“No; I do not think I shall. I shall knock under to Mr. Mill, and +go in for women’s rights, and look forward to stand for some female +borough. Matrimony never seemed to me to be very charming, and +upon my word it does not become more alluring by what I find at +Loughlinter.” + +It was thus that Violet and Lady Laura discussed these matters +together, but Violet had never showed to her friend the cards in her +hand, as Lady Laura had shown those which she held. Lady Laura had +in fact told almost everything that there was to tell,--had spoken +either plainly with true words, or equally plainly with words that +were not true. Violet Effingham had almost come to love Phineas +Finn;--but she never told her friend that it was so. At one time +she had almost made up her mind to give herself and all her wealth +to this adventurer. He was a better man, she thought, than Lord +Chiltern; and she had come to persuade herself that it was almost +imperative on her to take the one or the other. Though she could +talk about remaining unmarried, she knew that that was practically +impossible. All those around her,--those of the Baldock as well as +those of the Brentford faction,--would make such a life impossible +to her. Besides, in such a case what could she do? It was all very +well to talk of disregarding the world and of setting up a house for +herself;--but she was quite aware that that project could not be used +further than for the purpose of scaring her amiable aunt. And if not +that,--then could she content herself to look forward to a joint life +with Lady Baldock and Augusta Boreham? She might, of course, oblige +her aunt by taking Lord Fawn, or oblige her aunt equally by taking +Mr. Appledom; but she was strongly of opinion that either Lord +Chiltern or Phineas would be preferable to these. Thinking over it +always she had come to feel that it must be either Lord Chiltern or +Phineas; but she had never whispered her thought to man or woman. On +her journey to Loughlinter, where she then knew that she was to meet +Lord Chiltern, she endeavoured to persuade herself that it should be +Phineas. But Lady Laura had marred it all by that ill-told fib. There +had been a moment before in which Violet had felt that Phineas had +sacrificed something of that truth of love for which she gave him +credit to the glances of Madame Goesler’s eyes; but she had rebuked +herself for the idea, accusing herself not only of a little jealousy, +but of foolish vanity. Was he, whom she had rejected, not to speak to +another woman? Then came the blow from Lady Laura, and Violet knew +that it was a blow. This gallant lover, this young Crichton, this +unassuming but ardent lover, had simply taken up with her as soon as +he had failed with her friend. Lady Laura had been most enthusiastic +in her expressions of friendship. Such platonic regards might be all +very well. It was for Mr. Kennedy to look to that. But, for herself, +she felt that such expressions were hardly compatible with her ideas +of having her lover all to herself. And then she again remembered +Madame Goesler’s bright blue eyes. + +Lord Chiltern came on Christmas eve, and was received with open arms +by his sister, and with that painful, irritating affection which +such a girl as Violet can show to such a man as Lord Chiltern, when +she will not give him that other affection for which his heart is +panting. The two men were civil to each other,--but very cold. They +called each other Kennedy and Chiltern, but even that was not done +without an effort. On the Christmas morning Mr. Kennedy asked his +brother-in-law to go to church. “It’s a kind of thing I never do,” +said Lord Chiltern. Mr. Kennedy gave a little start, and looked a +look of horror. Lady Laura showed that she was unhappy. Violet +Effingham turned away her face, and smiled. + +As they walked across the park Violet took Lord Chiltern’s part. “He +only means that he does not go to church on Christmas day.” + +“I don’t know what he means,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“We need not speak of it,” said Lady Laura. + +“Certainly not,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“I have been to church with him on Sundays myself,” said Violet, +perhaps not reflecting that the practices of early years had little +to do with the young man’s life at present. + +Christmas day and the next day passed without any sign from Lord +Chiltern, and on the day after that he was to go away. But he was not +to leave till one or two in the afternoon. Not a word had been said +between the two women, since he had been in the house, on the subject +of which both of them were thinking. Very much had been said of +the expediency of his going to Saulsby, but on this matter he had +declined to make any promise. Sitting in Lady Laura’s room, in the +presence of both of them, he had refused to do so. “I am bad to +drive,” he said, turning to Violet, “and you had better not try to +drive me.” + +“Why should not you be driven as well as another?” she answered, +laughing. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + +The First Blow + + +Lord Chiltern, though he had passed two entire days in the house with +Violet without renewing his suit, had come to Loughlinter for the +express purpose of doing so, and had his plans perfectly fixed in his +own mind. After breakfast on that last morning he was up-stairs with +his sister in her own room, and immediately made his request to her. +“Laura,” he said, “go down like a good girl, and make Violet come up +here.” She stood a moment looking at him and smiled. “And, mind,” he +continued, “you are not to come back yourself. I must have Violet +alone.” + +“But suppose Violet will not come? Young ladies do not generally wait +upon young men on such occasions.” + +“No;--but I rank her so high among young women, that I think she will +have common sense enough to teach her that, after what has passed +between us, I have a right to ask for an interview, and that it may +be more conveniently had here than in the wilderness of the house +below.” + +Whatever may have been the arguments used by her friend, Violet did +come. She reached the door all alone, and opened it bravely. She had +promised herself, as she came along the passages, that she would not +pause with her hand on the lock for a moment. She had first gone to +her own room, and as she left it she had looked into the glass with +a hurried glance, and had then rested for a moment,--thinking that +something should be done, that her hair might be smoothed, or a +ribbon set straight, or the chain arranged under her brooch. A girl +would wish to look well before her lover, even when she means to +refuse him. But her pause was but for an instant, and then she went +on, having touched nothing. She shook her head and pressed her hands +together, and went on quick and opened the door,--almost with a +little start. “Violet, this is very good of you,” said Lord Chiltern, +standing with his back to the fire, and not moving from the spot. + +“Laura has told me that you thought I would do as much as this for +you, and therefore I have done it.” + +“Thanks, dearest. It is the old story, Violet, and I am so bad at +words!” + +“I must have been bad at words too, as I have not been able to make +you understand.” + +“I think I have understood. You are always clear-spoken, and I, +though I cannot talk, am not muddle-pated. I have understood. But +while you are single there must be yet hope;--unless, indeed, you +will tell me that you have already given yourself to another man.” + +“I have not done that.” + +“Then how can I not hope? Violet, I would if I could tell you all my +feelings plainly. Once, twice, thrice, I have said to myself that I +would think of you no more. I have tried to persuade myself that I am +better single than married.” + +“But I am not the only woman.” + +“To me you are,--absolutely, as though there were none other on the +face of God’s earth. I live much alone; but you are always with me. +Should you marry any other man, it will be the same with me still. If +you refuse me now I shall go away,--and live wildly.” + +“Oswald, what do you mean?” + +“I mean that I will go to some distant part of the world, where I +may be killed or live a life of adventure. But I shall do so simply +in despair. It will not be that I do not know how much better and +greater should be the life at home of a man in my position.” + +“Then do not talk of going.” + +“I cannot stay. You will acknowledge, Violet, that I have never lied +to you. I am thinking of you day and night. The more indifferent you +show yourself to me, the more I love you. Violet, try to love me.” He +came up to her, and took her by both her hands, and tears were in his +eyes. “Say you will try to love me.” + +“It is not that,” said Violet, looking away, but still leaving her +hands with him. + +“It is not what, dear?” + +“What you call,--trying.” + +“It is that you do not wish to try?” + +“Oswald, you are so violent, so headstrong. I am afraid of you,--as +is everybody. Why have you not written to your father, as we have +asked you?” + +“I will write to him instantly, now, before I leave the room, and +you shall dictate the letter to him. By heavens, you shall!” He had +dropped her hands when she called him violent; but now he took them +again, and still she permitted it. “I have postponed it only till I +had spoken to you once again.” + +“No, Lord Chiltern, I will not dictate to you.” + +“But will you love me?” She paused and looked down, having even now +not withdrawn her hands from him. But I do not think he knew how much +he had gained. “You used to love me,--a little,” he said. + +“Indeed,--indeed, I did.” + +“And now? Is it all changed now?” + +“No,” she said, retreating from him. + +“How is it, then? Violet, speak to me honestly. Will you be my wife?” +She did not answer him, and he stood for a moment looking at her. +Then he rushed at her, and, seizing her in his arms, kissed her all +over,--her forehead, her lips, her cheeks, then both her hands, and +then her lips again. “By G----, she is my own!” he said. Then he went +back to the rug before the fire, and stood there with his back turned +to her. Violet, when she found herself thus deserted, retreated to +a sofa, and sat herself down. She had no negative to produce now in +answer to the violent assertion which he had pronounced as to his +own success. It was true. She had doubted, and doubted,--and still +doubted. But now she must doubt no longer. Of one thing she was quite +sure. She could love him. As things had now gone, she would make +him quite happy with assurances on that subject. As to that other +question,--that fearful question, whether or not she could trust +him,--on that matter she had better at present say nothing, and +think as little, perhaps, as might be. She had taken the jump, and +therefore why should she not be gracious to him? But how was she to +be gracious to a lover who stood there with his back turned to her? + +After the interval of a minute or two he remembered himself, and +turned round. Seeing her seated, he approached her, and went down on +both knees close at her feet. Then he took her hands again, for the +third time, and looked up into her eyes. + +“Oswald, you on your knees!” she said. + +“I would not bend to a princess,” he said, “to ask for half her +throne; but I will kneel here all day, if you will let me, in thanks +for the gift of your love. I never kneeled to beg for it.” + +“This is the man who cannot make speeches.” + +“I think I could talk now by the hour, with you for a listener.” + +“Oh, but I must talk too.” + +“What will you say to me?” + +“Nothing while you are kneeling. It is not natural that you should +kneel. You are like Samson with his locks shorn, or Hercules with a +distaff.” + +“Is that better?” he said, as he got up and put his arm round her +waist. + +“You are in earnest?” she asked. + +“In earnest. I hardly thought that that would be doubted. Do you not +believe me?” + +“I do believe you. And you will be good?” + +“Ah,--I do not know that.” + +“Try, and I will love you so dearly. Nay, I do love you dearly. I do. +I do.” + +“Say it again.” + +“I will say it fifty times,--till your ears are weary with it”;--and +she did say it to him, after her own fashion, fifty times. + +“This is a great change,” he said, getting up after a while and +walking about the room. + +“But a change for the better;--is it not, Oswald?” + +“So much for the better that I hardly know myself in my new joy. But, +Violet, we’ll have no delay,--will we? No shilly-shallying. What is +the use of waiting now that it’s settled?” + +“None in the least, Lord Chiltern. Let us say,--this day +twelvemonth.” + +“You are laughing at me, Violet.” + +“Remember, sir, that the first thing you have to do is to write to +your father.” + +He instantly went to the writing-table and took up paper and pen. +“Come along,” he said. “You are to dictate it.” But this she refused +to do, telling him that he must write his letter to his father out of +his own head, and out of his own heart. “I cannot write it,” he said, +throwing down the pen. “My blood is in such a tumult that I cannot +steady my hand.” + +“You must not be so tumultuous, Oswald, or I shall have to live in a +whirlwind.” + +“Oh, I shall shake down. I shall become as steady as an old stager. +I’ll go as quiet in harness by-and-by as though I had been broken +to it a four-year-old. I wonder whether Laura could not write this +letter.” + +“I think you should write it yourself, Oswald.” + +“If you bid me I will.” + +“Bid you indeed! As if it was for me to bid you. Do you not know that +in these new troubles you are undertaking you will have to bid me in +everything, and that I shall be bound to do your bidding? Does it not +seem to be dreadful? My wonder is that any girl can ever accept any +man.” + +“But you have accepted me now.” + +“Yes, indeed.” + +“And you repent?” + +“No, indeed, and I will try to do your biddings;--but you must not be +rough to me, and outrageous, and fierce,--will you, Oswald?” + +“I will not at any rate be like Kennedy is with poor Laura.” + +“No;--that is not your nature.” + +“I will do my best, dearest. And you may at any rate be sure of this, +that I will love you always. So much good of myself, if it be good, I +can say.” + +“It is very good,” she answered; “the best of all good words. And now +I must go. And as you are leaving Loughlinter I will say good-bye. +When am I to have the honour and felicity of beholding your lordship +again?” + +“Say a nice word to me before I am off, Violet.” + +“I,--love,--you,--better,--than all the world beside; and I mean,--to +be your wife,--some day. Are not those twenty nice words?” + +He would not prolong his stay at Loughlinter, though he was asked +to do so both by Violet and his sister, and though, as he confessed +himself, he had no special business elsewhere. “It is no use mincing +the matter. I don’t like Kennedy, and I don’t like being in his +house,” he said to Violet. And then he promised that there should be +a party got up at Saulsby before the winter was over. His plan was +to stop that night at Carlisle, and write to his father from thence. +“Your blood, perhaps, won’t be so tumultuous at Carlisle,” said +Violet. He shook his head and went on with his plans. He would then +go on to London and down to Willingford, and there wait for his +father’s answer. “There is no reason why I should lose more of +the hunting than necessary.” “Pray don’t lose a day for me,” said +Violet. As soon as he heard from his father, he would do his father’s +bidding. “You will go to Saulsby,” said Violet; “you can hunt at +Saulsby, you know.” + +“I will go to Jericho if he asks me, only you will have to go with +me.” “I thought we were to go to,--Belgium,” said Violet. + +“And so that is settled at last,” said Violet to Laura that night. + +“I hope you do not regret it.” + +“On the contrary, I am as happy as the moments are long.” + +“My fine girl!” + +“I am happy because I love him. I have always loved him. You have +known that.” + +“Indeed, no.” + +“But I have, after my fashion. I am not tumultuous, as he calls +himself. Since he began to make eyes at me when he was nineteen--” + +“Fancy Oswald making eyes!” + +“Oh, he did, and mouths too. But from the beginning, when I was a +child, I have known that he was dangerous, and I have thought that +he would pass on and forget me after a while. And I could have lived +without him. Nay, there have been moments when I thought I could +learn to love some one else.” + +“Poor Phineas, for instance.” + +“We will mention no names. Mr. Appledom, perhaps, more likely. He +has been my most constant lover, and then he would be so safe! Your +brother, Laura, is dangerous. He is like the bad ice in the parks +where they stick up the poles. He has had a pole stuck upon him ever +since he was a boy.” + +“Yes;--give a dog a bad name and hang him.” + +“Remember that I do not love him a bit the less on that +account;--perhaps the better. A sense of danger does not make me +unhappy, though the threatened evil may be fatal. I have entered +myself for my forlorn hope, and I mean to stick to it. Now I must go +and write to his worship. Only think,--I never wrote a love-letter +yet!” + +Nothing more shall be said about Miss Effingham’s first love-letter, +which was, no doubt, creditable to her head and heart; but there were +two other letters sent by the same post from Loughlinter which shall +be submitted to the reader, as they will assist the telling of the +story. One was from Lady Laura Kennedy to her friend Phineas Finn, +and the other from Violet to her aunt, Lady Baldock. No letter was +written to Lord Brentford, as it was thought desirable that he should +receive the first intimation of what had been done from his son. + +Respecting the letter to Phineas, which shall be first given, Lady +Laura thought it right to say a word to her husband. He had been of +course told of the engagement, and had replied that he could have +wished that the arrangement could have been made elsewhere than at +his house, knowing as he did that Lady Baldock would not approve +of it. To this Lady Laura had made no reply, and Mr. Kennedy had +condescended to congratulate the bride-elect. When Lady Laura’s +letter to Phineas was completed she took care to put it into the +letter-box in the presence of her husband. “I have written to Mr. +Finn,” she said, “to tell him of this marriage.” + +“Why was it necessary that he should be told?” + +“I think it was due to him,--from certain circumstances.” + +“I wonder whether there was any truth in what everybody was saying +about their fighting a duel?” asked Mr. Kennedy. His wife made no +answer, and then he continued--“You told me of your own knowledge +that it was untrue.” + +“Not of my own knowledge, Robert.” + +“Yes;--of your own knowledge.” Then Mr. Kennedy walked away, and was +certain that his wife had deceived him about the duel. There had +been a duel, and she had known it; and yet she had told him that the +report was a ridiculous fabrication. He never forgot anything. He +remembered at this moment the words of the falsehood, and the look +of her face as she told it. He had believed her implicitly, but he +would never believe her again. He was one of those men who, in spite +of their experience of the world, of their experience of their own +lives, imagine that lips that have once lied can never tell the +truth. + +Lady Laura’s letter to Phineas was as follows: + + + Loughlinter, December 28th, 186--. + + MY DEAR FRIEND, + + Violet Effingham is here, and Oswald has just left us. + It is possible that you may see him as he passes through + London. But, at any rate, I think it best to let you know + immediately that she has accepted him,--at last. If there + be any pang in this to you, be sure that I will grieve + for you. You will not wish me to say that I regret that + which was the dearest wish of my heart before I knew you. + Lately, indeed, I have been torn in two ways. You will + understand what I mean, and I believe I need say nothing + more;--except this, that it shall be among my prayers that + you may obtain all things that may tend to make you happy, + honourable, and of high esteem. + + Your most sincere friend + + LAURA KENNEDY. + + +Even though her husband should read the letter, there was nothing in +that of which she need be ashamed. But he did not read the letter. +He simply speculated as to its contents, and inquired within himself +whether it would not be for the welfare of the world in general, and +for the welfare of himself in particular, that husbands should demand +to read their wives’ letters. + +And this was Violet’s letter to her aunt:-- + + + MY DEAR AUNT, + + The thing has come at last, and all your troubles will be + soon over;--for I do believe that all your troubles have + come from your unfortunate niece. At last I am going to + be married, and thus take myself off your hands. Lord + Chiltern has just been here, and I have accepted him. I am + afraid you hardly think so well of Lord Chiltern as I do; + but then, perhaps, you have not known him so long. You do + know, however, that there has been some difference between + him and his father. I think I may take upon myself to say + that now, upon his engagement, this will be settled. I + have the inexpressible pleasure of feeling sure that Lord + Brentford will welcome me as his daughter-in-law. Tell the + news to Augusta with my best love. I will write to her in + a day or two. I hope my cousin Gustavus will condescend + to give me away. Of course there is nothing fixed about + time;--but I should say, perhaps, in nine years. + + Your affectionate niece, + + VIOLET EFFINGHAM. + + Loughlinter, Friday. + + +“What does she mean about nine years?” said Lady Baldock in her +wrath. + +“She is joking,” said the mild Augusta. + +“I believe she would--joke, if I were going to be buried,” said Lady +Baldock. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +Showing How Phineas Bore the Blow + + +When Phineas received Lady Laura Kennedy’s letter, he was sitting in +his gorgeous apartment in the Colonial Office. It was gorgeous in +comparison with the very dingy room at Mr. Low’s to which he had been +accustomed in his early days,--and somewhat gorgeous also as compared +with the lodgings he had so long inhabited in Mr. Bunce’s house. The +room was large and square, and looked out from three windows on to +St. James’s Park. There were in it two very comfortable arm-chairs +and a comfortable sofa. And the office table at which he sat was of +old mahogany, shining brightly, and seemed to be fitted up with every +possible appliance for official comfort. This stood near one of the +windows, so that he could sit and look down upon the park. And there +was a large round table covered with books and newspapers. And the +walls of the room were bright with maps of all the colonies. And +there was one very interesting map,--but not very bright,--showing +the American colonies, as they used to be. And there was a little +inner closet in which he could brush his hair and wash his hands; and +in the room adjoining there sat,--or ought to have sat, for he was +often absent, vexing the mind of Phineas,--the Earl’s nephew, his +private secretary. And it was all very gorgeous. Often as he looked +round upon it, thinking of his old bedroom at Killaloe, of his little +garrets at Trinity, of the dingy chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, he would +tell himself that it was very gorgeous. He would wonder that anything +so grand had fallen to his lot. + +The letter from Scotland was brought to him in the afternoon, having +reached London by some day-mail from Glasgow. He was sitting at his +desk with a heap of papers before him referring to a contemplated +railway from Halifax, in Nova Scotia, to the foot of the Rocky +Mountains. It had become his business to get up the subject, and then +discuss with his principal, Lord Cantrip, the expediency of advising +the Government to lend a company five million of money, in order +that this railway might be made. It was a big subject, and the +contemplation of it gratified him. It required that he should look +forward to great events, and exercise the wisdom of a statesman. What +was the chance of these colonies being swallowed up by those other +regions,--once colonies,--of which the map that hung in the corner +told so eloquent a tale? And if so, would the five million ever be +repaid? And if not swallowed up, were the colonies worth so great an +adventure of national money? Could they repay it? Would they do so? +Should they be made to do so? Mr. Low, who was now a Q.C. and in +Parliament, would not have greater subjects than this before him, +even if he should come to be Solicitor General. Lord Cantrip had +specially asked him to get up this matter,--and he was getting it up +sedulously. Once in nine years the harbour of Halifax was blocked up +by ice. He had just jotted down the fact, which was material, when +Lady Laura’s letter was brought to him. He read it, and putting +it down by his side very gently, went back to his maps as though +the thing would not so trouble his mind as to disturb his work. He +absolutely wrote, automatically, certain words of a note about the +harbour, after he had received the information. A horse will gallop +for some scores of yards, after his back has been broken, before +he knows of his great ruin;--and so it was with Phineas Finn. His +back was broken, but, nevertheless, he galloped, for a yard or two. +“Closed in 1860-61 for thirteen days.” Then he began to be aware that +his back was broken, and that the writing of any more notes about the +ice in Halifax harbour was for the present out of the question. “I +think it best to let you know immediately that she has accepted him.” +These were the words which he read the oftenest. Then it was all +over! The game was played out, and all his victories were as nothing +to him. He sat for an hour in his gorgeous room thinking of it, and +various were the answers which he gave during the time to various +messages;--but he would see nobody. As for the colonies, he did not +care if they revolted to-morrow. He would have parted with every +colony belonging to Great Britain to have gotten the hand of Violet +Effingham for himself. Now,--now at this moment, he told himself with +oaths that he had never loved any one but Violet Effingham. + +There had been so much to make such a marriage desirable! I should +wrong my hero deeply were I to say that the weight of his sorrow was +occasioned by the fact that he had lost an heiress. He would never +have thought of looking for Violet Effingham had he not first learned +to love her. But as the idea opened itself out to him, everything +had seemed to be so suitable. Had Miss Effingham become his wife, +the mouths of the Lows and of the Bunces would have been stopped +altogether. Mr. Monk would have come to his house as his familiar +guest, and he would have been connected with half a score of peers. +A seat in Parliament would be simply his proper place, and even +Under-Secretaryships of State might soon come to be below him. He +was playing a great game, but hitherto he had played it with so much +success,--with such wonderful luck! that it had seemed to him that +all things were within his reach. Nothing more had been wanting to +him than Violet’s hand for his own comfort, and Violet’s fortune to +support his position; and these, too, had almost seemed to be within +his grasp. His goddess had indeed refused him,--but not with disdain. +Even Lady Laura had talked of his marriage as not improbable. All the +world, almost, had heard of the duel; and all the world had smiled, +and seemed to think that in the real fight Phineas Finn would be +the victor,--that the lucky pistol was in his hands. It had never +occurred to any one to suppose,--as far as he could see,--that he was +presuming at all, or pushing himself out of his own sphere, in asking +Violet Effingham to be his wife. No;--he would trust his luck, would +persevere, and would succeed. Such had been his resolution on that +very morning,--and now there had come this letter to dash him to the +ground. + +There were moments in which he declared to himself that he would not +believe the letter,--not that there was any moment in which there +was in his mind the slightest spark of real hope. But he would tell +himself that he would still persevere. Violet might have been driven +to accept that violent man by violent influence,--or it might be +that she had not in truth accepted him, that Chiltern had simply so +asserted. Or, even if it were so, did women never change their minds? +The manly thing would be to persevere to the end. Had he not before +been successful, when success seemed to be as far from him? But he +could buoy himself up with no real hope. Even when these ideas were +present to his mind, he knew,--he knew well,--at those very moments, +that his back was broken. + +Some one had come in and lighted the candles and drawn down the +blinds while he was sitting there, and now, as he looked at his +watch, he found that it was past five o’clock. He was engaged to dine +with Madame Max Goesler at eight, and in his agony he half-resolved +that he would send an excuse. Madame Max would be full of wrath, as +she was very particular about her little dinner-parties;--but, what +did he care now about the wrath of Madame Max Goesler? And yet only +this morning he had been congratulating himself, among his other +successes, upon her favour, and had laughed inwardly at his own +falseness,--his falseness to Violet Effingham,--as he did so. He +had said something to himself jocosely about lovers’ perjuries, the +remembrance of which was now very bitter to him. He took up a sheet +of note-paper and scrawled an excuse to Madame Goesler. News from the +country, he said, made it impossible that he should go out to-night. +But he did not send the note. At about half-past five he opened the +door of his private secretary’s room and found the young man fast +asleep, with a cigar in his mouth. “Halloa, Charles,” he said. + +“All right!” Charles Standish was a first cousin of Lady Laura’s, +and, having been in the office before Phineas had joined it, and +being a great favourite with his cousin, had of course become the +Under-Secretary’s private secretary. “I’m all here,” said Charles +Standish, getting up and shaking himself. + +“I am going. Just tie up those papers,--exactly as they are. I shall +be here early to-morrow, but I shan’t want you before twelve. Good +night, Charles.” + +“Ta, ta,” said his private secretary, who was very fond of his +master, but not very respectful,--unless upon express occasions. + +Then Phineas went out and walked across the park; but as he went he +became quite aware that his back was broken. It was not the less +broken because he sang to himself little songs to prove to himself +that it was whole and sound. It was broken, and it seemed to him now +that he never could become an Atlas again, to bear the weight of the +world upon his shoulders. What did anything signify? All that he had +done had been part of a game which he had been playing throughout, +and now he had been beaten in his game. He absolutely ignored his +old passion for Lady Laura as though it had never been, and regarded +himself as a model of constancy,--as a man who had loved, not wisely +perhaps, but much too well,--and who must now therefore suffer a +living death. He hated Parliament. He hated the Colonial Office. +He hated his friend Mr. Monk; and he especially hated Madame Max +Goesler. As to Lord Chiltern,--he believed that Lord Chiltern had +obtained his object by violence. He would see to that! Yes;--let the +consequences be what they might, he would see to that! + +He went up by the Duke of York’s column, and as he passed the +Athenæum he saw his chief, Lord Cantrip, standing under the portico +talking to a bishop. He would have gone on unnoticed, had it been +possible; but Lord Cantrip came down to him at once. “I have put your +name down here,” said his lordship. + +“What’s the use?” said Phineas, who was profoundly indifferent at +this moment to all the clubs in London. + +“It can’t do any harm, you know. You’ll come up in time. And if you +should get into the ministry, they’ll let you in at once.” + +“Ministry!” ejaculated Phineas. But Lord Cantrip took the tone of +voice as simply suggestive of humility, and suspected nothing of that +profound indifference to all ministers and ministerial honours which +Phineas had intended to express. “By-the-bye,” said Lord Cantrip, +putting his arm through that of the Under-Secretary, “I wanted to +speak to you about the guarantees. We shall be in the devil’s own +mess, you know--” And so the Secretary of State went on about the +Rocky Mountain Railroad, and Phineas strove hard to bear his burden +with his broken back. He was obliged to say something about the +guarantees, and the railway, and the frozen harbour,--and something +especially about the difficulties which would be found, not in the +measures themselves, but in the natural pugnacity of the Opposition. +In the fabrication of garments for the national wear, the great +thing is to produce garments that shall, as far as possible, defy +hole-picking. It may be, and sometimes is, the case, that garments +so fabricated will be good also for wear. Lord Cantrip, at the +present moment, was very anxious and very ingenious in the stopping +of holes; and he thought that perhaps his Under-Secretary was too +much prone to the indulgence of large philanthropical views without +sufficient thought of the hole-pickers. But on this occasion, by +the time that he reached Brooks’s, he had been enabled to convince +his Under-Secretary, and though he had always thought well of his +Under-Secretary, he thought better of him now than ever he had done. +Phineas during the whole time had been meditating what he could do +to Lord Chiltern when they two should meet. Could he take him by the +throat and smite him? “I happen to know that Broderick is working as +hard at the matter as we are,” said Lord Cantrip, stopping opposite +to the club. “He moved for papers, you know, at the end of last +session.” Now Mr. Broderick was a gentleman in the House looking for +promotion in a Conservative Government, and of course would oppose +any measure that could be brought forward by the Cantrip-Finn +Colonial Administration. Then Lord Cantrip slipped into the club, and +Phineas went on alone. + +A spark of his old ambition with reference to Brooks’s was the first +thing to make him forget his misery for a moment. He had asked Lord +Brentford to put his name down, and was not sure whether it had been +done. The threat of Mr. Broderick’s opposition had been of no use +towards the strengthening of his broken back, but the sight of Lord +Cantrip hurrying in at the coveted door did do something. “A man +can’t cut his throat or blow his brains out,” he said to himself; +“after all, he must go on and do his work. For hearts will break, yet +brokenly live on.” Thereupon he went home, and after sitting for an +hour over his own fire, and looking wistfully at a little treasure +which he had,--a treasure obtained by some slight fraud at Saulsby, +and which he now chucked into the fire, and then instantly again +pulled out of it, soiled but unscorched,--he dressed himself for +dinner, and went out to Madame Max Goesler’s. Upon the whole, he was +glad that he had not sent the note of excuse. A man must live, even +though his heart be broken, and living he must dine. + +Madame Max Goesler was fond of giving little dinners at this period +of the year, before London was crowded, and when her guests might +probably not be called away by subsequent social arrangements. Her +number seldom exceeded six or eight, and she always spoke of these +entertainments as being of the humblest kind. She sent out no big +cards. She preferred to catch her people as though by chance, when +that was possible. “Dear Mr. Jones. Mr. Smith is coming to tell +me about some sherry on Tuesday. Will you come and tell me too? I +daresay you know as much about it.” And then there was a studious +absence of parade. The dishes were not very numerous. The bill of +fare was simply written out once, for the mistress, and so circulated +round the table. Not a word about the things to be eaten or the +things to be drunk was ever spoken at the table,--or at least no such +word was ever spoken by Madame Goesler. But, nevertheless, they who +knew anything about dinners were aware that Madame Goesler gave very +good dinners indeed. Phineas Finn was beginning to flatter himself +that he knew something about dinners, and had been heard to assert +that the soups at the cottage in Park Lane were not to be beaten in +London. But he cared for no soup to-day, as he slowly made his way up +Madame Goesler’s staircase. + +There had been one difficulty in the way of Madame Goesler’s +dinner-parties which had required some patience and great ingenuity +in its management. She must either have ladies, or she must not have +them. There was a great allurement in the latter alternative; but she +knew well that if she gave way to it, all prospect of general society +would for her be closed,--and for ever. This had been in the early +days of her widowhood in Park Lane. She cared but little for women’s +society; but she knew well that the society of gentlemen without +women would not be that which she desired. She knew also that she +might as effectually crush herself and all her aspirations by +bringing to her house indifferent women,--women lacking something +either in character, or in position, or in talent,--as by having none +at all. Thus there had been a great difficulty, and sometimes she had +thought that the thing could not be done at all. “These English are +so stiff, so hard, so heavy!” And yet she would not have cared to +succeed elsewhere than among the English. By degrees, however, the +thing was done. Her prudence equalled her wit, and even suspicious +people had come to acknowledge that they could not put their fingers +on anything wrong. When Lady Glencora Palliser had once dined at +the cottage in Park Lane, Madame Max Goesler had told herself that +henceforth she did not care what the suspicious people said. Since +that the Duke of Omnium had almost promised that he would come. If +she could only entertain the Duke of Omnium she would have done +everything. + +But there was no Duke of Omnium there to-night. At this time the Duke +of Omnium was, of course, not in London. But Lord Fawn was there; and +our old friend Laurence Fitzgibbon, who had--resigned his place at +the Colonial Office; and there were Mr. and Mrs. Bonteen. They, with +our hero, made up the party. No one doubted for a moment to what +source Mr. Bonteen owed his dinner. Mrs. Bonteen was good-looking, +could talk, was sufficiently proper, and all that kind of thing,--and +did as well as any other woman at this time of year to keep Madame +Max Goesler in countenance. There was never any sitting after dinner +at the cottage; or, I should rather say, there was never any sitting +after Madame Goesler went; so that the two ladies could not weary +each other by being alone together. Mrs. Bonteen understood quite +well that she was not required there to talk to her hostess, and was +as willing as any woman to make herself agreeable to the gentlemen +she might meet at Madame Goesler’s table. And thus Mr. and Mrs. +Bonteen not unfrequently dined in Park Lane. + +“Now we have only to wait for that horrible man, Mr. Fitzgibbon,” +said Madame Max Goesler, as she welcomed Phineas. “He is always +late.” + +“What a blow for me!” said Phineas. + +“No,--you are always in good time. But there is a limit beyond which +good time ends, and being shamefully late at once begins. But here he +is.” And then, as Laurence Fitzgibbon entered the room, Madame +Goesler rang the bell for dinner. + +Phineas found himself placed between his hostess and Mr. Bonteen, and +Lord Fawn was on the other side of Madame Goesler. They were hardly +seated at the table before some one stated it as a fact that Lord +Brentford and his son were reconciled. Now Phineas knew, or thought +that he knew, that this could not as yet be the case; and indeed such +was not the case, though the father had already received the son’s +letter. But Phineas did not choose to say anything at present about +Lord Chiltern. + +“How odd it is,” said Madame Goesler; “how often you English fathers +quarrel with your sons!” + +“How often we English sons quarrel with our fathers rather,” said +Lord Fawn, who was known for the respect he had always paid to the +fifth commandment. + +“It all comes from entail and primogeniture, and old-fashioned +English prejudices of that kind,” said Madame Goesler. “Lord Chiltern +is a friend of yours, Mr. Finn, I think.” + +“They are both friends of mine,” said Phineas. + +“Ah, yes; but you,--you,--you and Lord Chiltern once did something +odd together. There was a little mystery, was there not?” + +“It is very little of a mystery now,” said Fitzgibbon. + +“It was about a lady;--was it not?” said Mrs. Bonteen, affecting to +whisper to her neighbour. + +“I am not at liberty to say anything on the subject,” said +Fitzgibbon; “but I have no doubt Phineas will tell you.” + +“I don’t believe this about Lord Brentford,” said Mr. Bonteen. “I +happen to know that Chiltern was down at Loughlinter three days ago, +and that he passed through London yesterday on his way to the place +where he hunts. The Earl is at Saulsby. He would have gone to Saulsby +if it were true.” + +“It all depends upon whether Miss Effingham will accept him,” said +Mrs. Bonteen, looking over at Phineas as she spoke. + +As there were two of Violet Effingham’s suitors at table, the subject +was becoming disagreeably personal; and the more so, as every one of +the party knew or surmised something of the facts of the case. The +cause of the duel at Blankenberg had become almost as public as the +duel, and Lord Fawn’s courtship had not been altogether hidden from +the public eye. He on the present occasion might probably be able to +carry himself better than Phineas, even presuming him to be equally +eager in his love,--for he knew nothing of the fatal truth. But he +was unable to hear Mrs. Bonteen’s statement with indifference, and +showed his concern in the matter by his reply. “Any lady will be much +to be pitied,” he said, “who does that. Chiltern is the last man in +the world to whom I would wish to trust the happiness of a woman for +whom I cared.” + +“Chiltern is a very good fellow,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon. + +“Just a little wild,” said Mrs. Bonteen. + +“And never had a shilling in his pocket in his life,” said her +husband. + +“I regard him as simply a madman,” said Lord Fawn. + +“I do so wish I knew him,” said Madame Max Goesler. “I am fond of +madmen, and men who haven’t shillings, and who are a little wild. +Could you not bring him here, Mr. Finn?” + +Phineas did not know what to say, or how to open his mouth without +showing his deep concern. “I shall be happy to ask him if you wish +it,” he replied, as though the question had been put to him in +earnest; “but I do not see so much of Lord Chiltern as I used to do.” + +“You do not believe that Violet Effingham will accept him?” asked +Mrs. Bonteen. + +He paused a moment before he spoke, and then made his answer in a +deep solemn voice,--with a seriousness which he was unable to +repress. “She has accepted him,” he said. + +“Do you mean that you know it?” said Madame Goesler. + +“Yes;--I mean that I know it.” + +Had anybody told him beforehand that he would openly make this +declaration at Madame Goesler’s table, he would have said that of +all things it was the most impossible. He would have declared that +nothing would have induced him to speak of Violet Effingham in his +existing frame of mind, and that he would have had his tongue cut +out before he spoke of her as the promised bride of his rival. And +now he had declared the whole truth of his own wretchedness and +discomfiture. He was well aware that all of them there knew why he +had fought the duel at Blankenberg;--all, that is, except perhaps +Lord Fawn. And he felt as he made the statement as to Lord Chiltern +that he blushed up to his forehead, and that his voice was strange, +and that he was telling the tale of his own disgrace. But when the +direct question had been asked him he had been unable to refrain from +answering it directly. He had thought of turning it off with some +jest or affectation of drollery, but had failed. At the moment he had +been unable not to speak the truth. + +“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Lord Fawn,--who also forgot +himself. + +“I do believe it, if Mr. Finn says so,” said Mrs. Bonteen, who rather +liked the confusion she had caused. + +“But who could have told you, Finn?” asked Mr. Bonteen. + +“His sister, Lady Laura, told me so,” said Phineas. + +“Then it must be true,” said Madame Goesler. + +“It is quite impossible,” said Lord Fawn. “I think I may say that +I know that it is impossible. If it were so, it would be a most +shameful arrangement. Every shilling she has in the world would +be swallowed up.” Now, Lord Fawn in making his proposals had been +magnanimous in his offers as to settlements and pecuniary provisions +generally. + +For some minutes after that Phineas did not speak another word, and +the conversation generally was not so brisk and bright as it was +expected to be at Madame Goesler’s. Madame Max Goesler herself +thoroughly understood our hero’s position, and felt for him. She +would have encouraged no questionings about Violet Effingham had +she thought that they would have led to such a result, and now she +exerted herself to turn the minds of her guests to other subjects. +At last she succeeded; and after a while, too, Phineas himself was +able to talk. He drank two or three glasses of wine, and dashed +away into politics, taking the earliest opportunity in his power of +contradicting Lord Fawn very plainly on one or two matters. Laurence +Fitzgibbon was of course of opinion that the ministry could not stay +in long. Since he had left the Government the ministers had made +wonderful mistakes, and he spoke of them quite as an enemy might +speak. “And yet, Fitz,” said Mr. Bonteen, “you used to be so staunch +a supporter.” + +“I have seen the error of my way, I can assure you,” said Laurence. + +“I always observe,” said Madame Max Goesler, “that when any of +you gentlemen resign,--which you usually do on some very trivial +matter,--the resigning gentleman becomes of all foes the bitterest. +Somebody goes on very well with his friends, agreeing most cordially +about everything, till he finds that his public virtue cannot swallow +some little detail, and then he resigns. Or some one, perhaps, on the +other side has attacked him, and in the mêlée he is hurt, and so he +resigns. But when he has resigned, and made his parting speech full +of love and gratitude, I know well after that where to look for the +bitterest hostility to his late friends. Yes, I am beginning to +understand the way in which politics are done in England.” + +All this was rather severe upon Laurence Fitzgibbon; but he was a man +of the world, and bore it better than Phineas had borne his defeat. + +The dinner, taken altogether, was not a success, and so Madame +Goesler understood. Lord Fawn, after he had been contradicted by +Phineas, hardly opened his mouth. Phineas himself talked rather too +much and rather too loudly; and Mrs. Bonteen, who was well enough +inclined to flatter Lord Fawn, contradicted him. “I made a mistake,” +said Madame Goesler afterwards, “in having four members of Parliament +who all of them were or had been in office. I never will have two men +in office together again.” This she said to Mrs. Bonteen. “My dear +Madame Max,” said Mrs. Bonteen, “your resolution ought to be that you +will never again have two claimants for the same young lady.” + +In the drawing-room up-stairs Madame Goesler managed to be alone for +three minutes with Phineas Finn. “And it is as you say, my friend?” +she asked. Her voice was plaintive and soft, and there was a look of +real sympathy in her eyes. Phineas almost felt that if they two had +been quite alone he could have told her everything, and have wept at +her feet. + +“Yes,” he said, “it is so.” + +“I never doubted it when you had declared it. May I venture to say +that I wish it had been otherwise?” + +“It is too late now, Madame Goesler. A man of course is a fool to +show that he has any feelings in such a matter. The fact is, I heard +it just before I came here, and had made up my mind to send you an +excuse. I wish I had now.” + +“Do not say that, Mr. Finn.” + +“I have made such an ass of myself.” + +“In my estimation you have done yourself honour. But if I may venture +to give you counsel, do not speak of this affair again as though you +had been personally concerned in it. In the world now-a-days the only +thing disgraceful is to admit a failure.” + +“And I have failed.” + +“But you need not admit it, Mr. Finn. I know I ought not to say as +much to you.” + +“I, rather, am deeply indebted to you. I will go now, Madame Goesler, +as I do not wish to leave the house with Lord Fawn.” + +“But you will come and see me soon.” Then Phineas promised that he +would come soon; and felt as he made the promise that he would have +an opportunity of talking over his love with his new friend at any +rate without fresh shame as to his failure. + +Laurence Fitzgibbon went away with Phineas, and Mr. Bonteen, having +sent his wife away by herself, walked off towards the clubs with Lord +Fawn. He was very anxious to have a few words with Lord Fawn. Lord +Fawn had evidently been annoyed by Phineas, and Mr. Bonteen did not +at all love the young Under-Secretary. “That fellow has become the +most consummate puppy I ever met,” said he, as he linked himself on +to the lord, “Monk, and one or two others among them, have contrived +to spoil him altogether.” + +“I don’t believe a word of what he said about Lord Chiltern,” said +Lord Fawn. + +“About his marriage with Miss Effingham?” + +“It would be such an abominable shame to sacrifice the girl,” said +Lord Fawn. “Only think of it. Everything is gone. The man is a +drunkard, and I don’t believe he is any more reconciled to his father +than you are. Lady Laura Kennedy must have had some object in saying +so.” + +“Perhaps an invention of Finn’s altogether,” said Mr. Bonteen. “Those +Irish fellows are just the men for that kind of thing.” + +“A man, you know, so violent that nobody can hold him,” said Lord +Fawn, thinking of Chiltern. + +“And so absurdly conceited,” said Mr. Bonteen, thinking of Phineas. + +“A man who has never done anything, with all his advantages in the +world,--and never will.” + +“He won’t hold his place long,” said Mr. Bonteen. + +“Whom do you mean?” + +“Phineas Finn.” + +“Oh, Mr. Finn. I was talking of Lord Chiltern. I believe Finn to be +a very good sort of a fellow, and he is undoubtedly clever. They say +Cantrip likes him amazingly. He’ll do very well. But I don’t believe +a word of this about Lord Chiltern.” Then Mr. Bonteen felt himself to +be snubbed, and soon afterwards left Lord Fawn alone. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + +Consolation + + +On the day following Madame Goesler’s dinner party, Phineas, though +he was early at his office, was not able to do much work, still +feeling that as regarded the realities of the world, his back +was broken. He might no doubt go on learning, and, after a time, +might be able to exert himself in a perhaps useful, but altogether +uninteresting kind of way, doing his work simply because it was +there to be done,--as the carter or the tailor does his;--and from +the same cause, knowing that a man must have bread to live. But as +for ambition, and the idea of doing good, and the love of work for +work’s sake,--as for the elastic springs of delicious and beneficent +labour,--all that was over for him. He would have worked from day +till night, and from night till day, and from month till month +throughout the year to have secured for Violet Effingham the +assurance that her husband’s position was worthy of her own. But now +he had no motive for such work as this. As long as he took the public +pay, he would earn it; and that was all. + +On the next day things were a little better with him. He received a +note in the morning from Lord Cantrip saying that they two were to +see the Prime Minister that evening, in order that the whole question +of the railway to the Rocky Mountains might be understood, and +Phineas was driven to his work. Before the time of the meeting came +he had once more lost his own identity in great ideas of colonial +welfare, and had planned and peopled a mighty region on the Red +River, which should have no sympathy with American democracy. When +he waited upon Mr. Gresham in the afternoon he said nothing about +the mighty region; indeed, he left it to Lord Cantrip to explain +most of the proposed arrangements,--speaking only a word or two here +and there as occasion required. But he was aware that he had so far +recovered as to be able to save himself from losing ground during the +interview. + +“He’s about the first Irishman we’ve had that has been worth his +salt,” said Mr. Gresham to his colleague afterwards. + +“That other Irishman was a terrible fellow,” said Lord Cantrip, +shaking his head. + +On the fourth day after his sorrow had befallen him, Phineas went +again to the cottage in Park Lane. And in order that he might not be +balked in his search for sympathy he wrote a line to Madame Goesler +to ask if she would be at home. “I will be at home from five to +six,--and alone.--M. M. G.” That was the answer from Marie Max +Goesler, and Phineas was of course at the cottage a few minutes +after five. It is not, I think, surprising that a man when he wants +sympathy in such a calamity as that which had now befallen Phineas +Finn, should seek it from a woman. Women sympathise most effectually +with men, as men do with women. But it is, perhaps, a little odd that +a man when he wants consolation because his heart has been broken, +always likes to receive it from a pretty woman. One would be disposed +to think that at such a moment he would be profoundly indifferent +to such a matter, that no delight could come to him from female +beauty, and that all he would want would be the softness of a simply +sympathetic soul. But he generally wants a soft hand as well, and an +eye that can be bright behind the mutual tear, and lips that shall +be young and fresh as they express their concern for his sorrow. All +these things were added to Phineas when he went to Madame Goesler in +his grief. + + +“I am so glad to see you,” said Madame Max. + +“You are very good-natured to let me come.” + +“No;--but it is so good of you to trust me. But I was sure you would +come after what took place the other night. I saw that you were +pained, and I was so sorry for it.” + +“I made such a fool of myself.” + +“Not at all. And I thought that you were right to tell them when the +question had been asked. If the thing was not to be kept a secret, it +was better to speak it out. You will get over it quicker in that way +than in any other. I have never seen the young lord, myself.” + +“Oh, there is nothing amiss about him. As to what Lord Fawn said, the +half of it is simply exaggeration, and the other half is +misunderstood.” + +“In this country it is so much to be a lord,” said Madame Goesler. + +Phineas thought a moment of that matter before he replied. All the +Standish family had been very good to him, and Violet Effingham had +been very good. It was not the fault of any of them that he was now +wretched and back-broken. He had meditated much on this, and had +resolved that he would not even think evil of them. “I do not in my +heart believe that that has had anything to do with it,” he said. + +“But it has, my friend,--always. I do not know your Violet +Effingham.” + +“She is not mine.” + +“Well;--I do not know this Violet that is not yours. I have met her, +and did not specially admire her. But then the tastes of men and +women about beauty are never the same. But I know she is one that +always lives with lords and countesses. A girl who always lived with +countesses feels it to be hard to settle down as a plain Mistress.” + +“She has had plenty of choice among all sorts of men. It was not the +title. She would not have accepted Chiltern unless she had--. But +what is the use of talking of it?” + +“They had known each other long?” + +“Oh, yes,--as children. And the Earl desired it of all things.” + +“Ah;--then he arranged it.” + +“Not exactly. Nobody could arrange anything for Chiltern,--nor, as +far as that goes, for Miss Effingham. They arranged it themselves, I +fancy.” + +“You had asked her?” + +“Yes;--twice. And she had refused him more than twice. I have nothing +for which to blame her; but yet I had thought,--I had thought--” + +“She is a jilt then?” + +“No;--I will not let you say that of her. She is no jilt. But I think +she has been strangely ignorant of her own mind. What is the use of +talking of it, Madame Goesler?” + +“None;--only sometimes it is better to speak a word, than to keep +one’s sorrow to oneself.” + +“So it is;--and there is not one in the world to whom I can speak +such a word, except yourself. Is not that odd? I have sisters, but +they have never heard of Miss Effingham, and would be quite +indifferent.” + +“Perhaps they have some other favourites.” + +“Ah;--well. That does not matter, And my best friend here in London +is Lord Chiltern’s own sister.” + +“She knew of your attachment?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +“And she told you of Miss Effingham’s engagement. Was she glad of +it?” + +“She has always desired the marriage. And yet I think she would have +been satisfied had it been otherwise. But of course her heart must +be with her brother. I need not have troubled myself to go to +Blankenberg after all.” + +“It was for the best, perhaps. Everybody says you behaved so well.” + +“I could not but go, as things were then.” + +“What if you had--shot him?” + +“There would have been an end of everything. She would never have +seen me after that. Indeed I should have shot myself next, feeling +that there was nothing else left for me to do.” + +“Ah;--you English are so peculiar. But I suppose it is best not to +shoot a man. And, Mr. Finn, there are other ladies in the world +prettier than Miss Violet Effingham. No;--of course you will not +admit that now. Just at this moment, and for a month or two, she +is peerless, and you will feel yourself to be of all men the most +unfortunate. But you have the ball at your feet. I know no one so +young who has got the ball at his feet so well. I call it nothing to +have the ball at your feet if you are born with it there. It is so +easy to be a lord if your father is one before you,--and so easy +to marry a pretty girl if you can make her a countess. But to make +yourself a lord, or to be as good as a lord, when nothing has been +born to you,--that I call very much. And there are women, and pretty +women too, Mr. Finn, who have spirit enough to understand this, and +to think that the man, after all, is more important than the lord.” +Then she sang the old well-worn verse of the Scotch song with +wonderful spirit, and with a clearness of voice and knowledge of +music for which he had hitherto never given her credit. + + + “A prince can mak’ a belted knight, + A marquis, duke, and a’ that; + But an honest man’s aboon his might, + Guid faith he mauna fa’ that.” + + +“I did not know that you sung, Madame Goesler.” + +“Only now and then when something specially requires it. And I am +very fond of Scotch songs. I will sing to you now if you like it.” +Then she sang the whole song,--“A man’s a man for a’ that,” she +said as she finished. “Even though he cannot get the special bit of +painted Eve’s flesh for which his heart has had a craving.” Then she +sang again:-- + + + “There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, + Who would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” + + +“But young Lochinvar got his bride,” said Phineas. + +“Take the spirit of the lines, Mr. Finn, which is true; and not the +tale as it is told, which is probably false. I often think that Jock +of Hazledean, and young Lochinvar too, probably lived to repent their +bargains. We will hope that Lord Chiltern may not do so.” + +“I am sure he never will.” + +“That is all right. And as for you, do you for a while think of your +politics, and your speeches, and your colonies, rather than of your +love. You are at home there, and no Lord Chiltern can rob you of +your success. And if you are down in the mouth, come to me, and I +will sing you a Scotch song. And, look you, the next time I ask you +to dinner I will promise you that Mrs. Bonteen shall not be here. +Good-bye.” She gave him her hand, which was very soft, and left it +for a moment in his, and he was consoled. + +Madame Goesler, when she was alone, threw herself on to her chair +and began to think of things. In these days she would often ask +herself what in truth was the object of her ambition, and the aim of +her life. Now at this moment she had in her hand a note from the Duke +of Omnium. The Duke had allowed himself to say something about a +photograph, which had justified her in writing to him,--or which she +had taken for such justification. And the Duke had replied. “He would +not,” he said, “lose the opportunity of waiting upon her in person +which the presentation of the little gift might afford him.” It would +be a great success to have the Duke of Omnium at her house,--but to +what would the success reach? What was her definite object,--or had +she any? In what way could she make herself happy? She could not say +that she was happy yet. The hours with her were too long and the days +too many. + +The Duke of Omnium should come,--if he would. And she was quite +resolved as to this,--that if the Duke did come she would not be +afraid of him. Heavens and earth! What would be the feelings of such +a woman as her, were the world to greet her some fine morning as +Duchess of Omnium! Then she made up her mind very resolutely on one +subject. Should the Duke give her any opportunity she would take +a very short time in letting him know what was the extent of her +ambition. + + + + +CHAPTER LV + +Lord Chiltern at Saulsby + + +Lord Chiltern did exactly as he said he would do. He wrote to his +father as he passed through Carlisle, and at once went on to his +hunting at Willingford. But his letter was very stiff and ungainly, +and it may be doubted whether Miss Effingham was not wrong in +refusing the offer which he had made to her as to the dictation of +it. He began his letter, “My Lord,” and did not much improve the +style as he went on with it. The reader may as well see the whole +letter;-- + + + Railway Hotel, Carlisle, + December 27, 186--. + + MY LORD, + + I am now on my way from Loughlinter to London, and write + this letter to you in compliance with a promise made by + me to my sister and to Miss Effingham. I have asked Violet + to be my wife, and she has accepted me, and they think + that you will be pleased to hear that this has been done. + I shall be, of course, obliged, if you will instruct Mr. + Edwards to let me know what you would propose to do in + regard to settlements. Laura thinks that you will wish to + see both Violet and myself at Saulsby. For myself, I can + only say that, should you desire me to come, I will do + so on receiving your assurance that I shall be treated + neither with fatted calves nor with reproaches. I am not + aware that I have deserved either. + + I am, my lord, yours affect., + + CHILTERN. + + P.S.--My address will be “The Bull, Willingford.” + + +That last word, in which he half-declared himself to be joined in +affectionate relations to his father, caused him a world of trouble. +But he could find no term for expressing, without a circumlocution +which was disagreeable to him, exactly that position of feeling +towards his father which really belonged to him. He would have +written “yours with affection,” or “yours with deadly enmity,” or +“yours with respect,” or “yours with most profound indifference,” +exactly in accordance with the state of his father’s mind, if he had +only known what was that state. He was afraid of going beyond his +father in any offer of reconciliation, and was firmly fixed in his +resolution that he would never be either repentant or submissive +in regard to the past. If his father had wishes for the future, +he would comply with them if he could do so without unreasonable +inconvenience, but he would not give way a single point as to things +done and gone. If his father should choose to make any reference to +them, his father must prepare for battle. + +The Earl was of course disgusted by the pertinacious obstinacy of his +son’s letter, and for an hour or two swore to himself that he would +not answer it. But it is natural that the father should yearn for the +son, while the son’s feeling for the father is of a very much weaker +nature. Here, at any rate, was that engagement made which he had +ever desired. And his son had made a step, though it was so very +unsatisfactory a step, towards reconciliation. When the old man read +the letter a second time, he skipped that reference to fatted calves +which had been so peculiarly distasteful to him, and before the +evening had passed he had answered his son as follows;-- + + + Saulsby, December 29, 186--. + + MY DEAR CHILTERN, + + I have received your letter, and am truly delighted to hear that dear + Violet has accepted you as her husband. Her fortune will be very + material to you, but she herself is better than any fortune. You have + long known my opinion of her. I shall be proud to welcome her as a + daughter to my house. + + I shall of course write to her immediately, and will endeavour to + settle some early day for her coming here. When I have done so, I + will write to you again, and can only say that I will endeavour to + make Saulsby comfortable to you. + + Your affectionate father, + + BRENTFORD. + + Richards, the groom, is still here. You had perhaps better write to + him direct about your horses. + + +By the middle of February arrangements had all been made, and Violet +met her lover at his father’s house. She in the meantime had been +with her aunt, and had undergone a good deal of mild unceasing +persecution. “My dear Violet,” said her aunt to her on her arrival +at Baddingham, speaking with a solemnity that ought to have been +terrible to the young lady, “I do not know what to say to you.” + +“Say ‘how d’you do?’ aunt,” said Violet. + +“I mean about this engagement,” said Lady Baldock, with an increase +of awe-inspiring severity in her voice. + +“Say nothing about it at all, if you don’t like it,” said Violet. + +“How can I say nothing about it? How can I be silent? Or how am I to +congratulate you?” + +“The least said, perhaps, the soonest mended,” and Violet smiled as +she spoke. + +“That is very well, and if I had no duty to perform, I would be +silent. But, Violet, you have been left in my charge. If I see you +shipwrecked in life, I shall ever tell myself that the fault has been +partly mine.” + +“Nay, aunt, that will be quite unnecessary. I will always admit that +you did everything in your power to--to--to--make me run straight, as +the sporting men say.” + +“Sporting men! Oh, Violet.” + +“And you know, aunt, I still hope that I shall be found to have kept +on the right side of the posts. You will find that poor Lord Chiltern +is not so black as he is painted.” + +“But why take anybody that is black at all?” + +“I like a little shade in the picture, aunt.” + +“Look at Lord Fawn.” + +“I have looked at him.” + +“A young nobleman beginning a career of useful official life, that +will end in--; there is no knowing what it may end in.” + +“I daresay not;--but it never could have begun or ended in my being +Lady Fawn.” + +“And Mr. Appledom!” + +“Poor Mr. Appledom. I do like Mr. Appledom. But, you see, aunt, I +like Lord Chiltern so much better. A young woman will go by her +feelings.” + +“And yet you refused him a dozen times.” + +“I never counted the times, aunt; but not quite so many as that.” + +The same thing was repeated over and over again during the month that +Miss Effingham remained at Baddingham, but Lady Baldock had no power +of interfering, and Violet bore her persecution bravely. Her future +husband was generally spoken of as “that violent young man,” and +hints were thrown out as to the personal injuries to which his wife +might be possibly subjected. But the threatened bride only laughed, +and spoke of these coming dangers as part of the general lot of +married women. “I daresay, if the truth were known, my uncle Baldock +did not always keep his temper,” she once said. Now, the truth was, +as Violet well knew, that “my uncle Baldock” had been dumb as a sheep +before the shearers in the hands of his wife, and had never been +known to do anything improper by those who had been most intimate +with him even in his earlier days. “Your uncle Baldock, miss,” said +the outraged aunt, “was a nobleman as different in his manner of +life from Lord Chiltern as chalk from cheese.” “But then comes the +question, which is the cheese?” said Violet. Lady Baldock would not +argue the question any further, but stalked out of the room. + +Lady Laura Kennedy met them at Saulsby, having had something of a +battle with her husband before she left her home to do so. When she +told him of her desire to assist at this reconciliation between her +father and brother, he replied by pointing out that her first duty +was at Loughlinter, and before the interview was ended had come to +express an opinion that that duty was very much neglected. She in the +meantime had declared that she would go to Saulsby, or that she would +explain to her father that she was forbidden by her husband to do +so. “And I also forbid any such communication,” said Mr. Kennedy. In +answer to which, Lady Laura told him that there were some marital +commands which she should not consider it to be her duty to obey. +When matters had come to this pass, it may be conceived that both Mr. +Kennedy and his wife were very unhappy. She had almost resolved that +she would take steps to enable her to live apart from her husband; +and he had begun to consider what course he would pursue if such +steps were taken. The wife was subject to her husband by the laws +both of God and man; and Mr. Kennedy was one who thought much of +such laws. In the meantime, Lady Laura carried her point and went to +Saulsby, leaving her husband to go up to London and begin the session +by himself. + +Lady Laura and Violet were both at Saulsby before Lord Chiltern +arrived, and many were the consultations which were held between them +as to the best mode in which things might be arranged. Violet was of +opinion that there had better be no arrangement, that Lord Chiltern +should be allowed to come in and take his father’s hand, and sit down +to dinner,--and that so things should fall into their places. Lady +Laura was rather in favour of some scene. But the interview had taken +place before either of them were able to say a word. Lord Chiltern, +on his arrival, had gone immediately to his father, taking the Earl +very much by surprise, and had come off best in the encounter. + +“My lord,” said he, walking up to his father with his hand out, “I am +very glad to come back to Saulsby.” He had written to his sister to +say that he would be at Saulsby on that day, but had named no hour. +He now appeared between ten and eleven in the morning, and his father +had as yet made no preparation for him,--had arranged no appropriate +words. He had walked in at the front door, and had asked for the +Earl. The Earl was in his own morning-room,--a gloomy room, full of +dark books and darker furniture, and thither Lord Chiltern had at +once gone. The two women still were sitting together over the fire in +the breakfast-room, and knew nothing of his arrival. + +“Oswald!” said his father, “I hardly expected you so early.” + +“I have come early. I came across country, and slept at Birmingham. I +suppose Violet is here.” + +“Yes, she is here,--and Laura. They will be very glad to see you. So +am I.” And the father took the son’s hand for the second time. + +“Thank you, sir,” said Lord Chiltern, looking his father full in the +face. + +“I have been very much pleased by this engagement,” continued the +Earl. + +“What do you think I must be, then?” said the son, laughing. “I +have been at it, you know, off and on, ever so many years; and have +sometimes thought I was quite a fool not to get it out of my head. +But I couldn’t get it out of my head. And now she talks as though it +were she who had been in love with me all the time!” + +“Perhaps she was,” said the father. + +“I don’t believe it in the least. She may be a little so now.” + +“I hope you mean that she always shall be so.” + +“I shan’t be the worst husband in the world, I hope; and I am quite +sure I shan’t be the best. I will go and see her now. I suppose I +shall find her somewhere in the house. I thought it best to see you +first.” + +“Stop half a moment, Oswald,” said the Earl. And then Lord Brentford +did make something of a shambling speech, in which he expressed a +hope that they two might for the future live together on friendly +terms, forgetting the past. He ought to have been prepared for the +occasion, and the speech was poor and shambling. But I think that it +was more useful than it might have been, had it been uttered roundly +and with that paternal and almost majestic effect which he would have +achieved had he been thoroughly prepared. But the roundness and the +majesty would have gone against the grain with his son, and there +would have been a danger of some outbreak. As it was, Lord Chiltern +smiled, and muttered some word about things being “all right,” and +then made his way out of the room. “That’s a great deal better than I +had hoped,” he said to himself; “and it has all come from my going in +without being announced.” But there was still a fear upon him that +his father even yet might prepare a speech, and speak it, to the +great peril of their mutual comfort. + +His meeting with Violet was of course pleasant enough. Now that she +had succumbed, and had told herself and had told him that she loved +him, she did not scruple to be as generous as a maiden should be who +has acknowledged herself to be conquered, and has rendered herself to +the conqueror. She would walk with him and ride with him, and take a +lively interest in the performances of all his horses, and listen to +hunting stories as long as he chose to tell them. In all this, she +was so good and so loving that Lady Laura was more than once tempted +to throw in her teeth her old, often-repeated assertions, that she +was not prone to be in love,--that it was not her nature to feel any +ardent affection for a man, and that, therefore, she would probably +remain unmarried. “You begrudge me my little bits of pleasure,” +Violet said, in answer to one such attack. “No;--but it is so odd to +see you, of all women, become so love-lorn,” “I am not love-lorn,” +said Violet, “but I like the freedom of telling him everything and +of hearing everything from him, and of having him for my own best +friend. He might go away for twelve months, and I should not be +unhappy, believing, as I do, that he would be true to me.” All of +which set Lady Laura thinking whether her friend had not been wiser +than she had been. She had never known anything of that sort of +friendship with her husband which already seemed to be quite +established between these two. + +In her misery one day Lady Laura told the whole story of her own +unhappiness to her brother, saying nothing of Phineas Finn,--thinking +nothing of him as she told her story, but speaking more strongly +perhaps than she should have done, of the terrible dreariness of her +life at Loughlinter, and of her inability to induce her husband to +alter it for her sake. + +“Do you mean that he,--ill-treats you?” said the brother, with a +scowl on his face which seemed to indicate that he would like no task +better than that of resenting such ill-treatment. + +“He does not beat me, if you mean that.” + +“Is he cruel to you? Does he use harsh language?” + +“He never said a word in his life either to me or, as I believe, to +any other human being, that he would think himself bound to regret.” + +“What is it then?” + +“He simply chooses to have his own way, and his way cannot be my way. +He is hard, and dry, and just, and dispassionate, and he wishes me to +be the same. That is all.” + +“I tell you fairly, Laura, as far as I am concerned, I never could +speak to him. He is antipathetic to me. But then I am not his wife.” + +“I am;--and I suppose I must bear it.” + +“Have you spoken to my father?” + +“No.” + +“Or to Violet?” + +“Yes.” + +“And what does she say?” + +“What can she say? She has nothing to say. Nor have you. Nor, if I am +driven to leave him, can I make the world understand why I do so. To +be simply miserable, as I am, is nothing to the world.” + +“I could never understand why you married him.” + +“Do not be cruel to me, Oswald.” + +“Cruel! I will stick by you in any way that you wish. If you think +well of it, I will go off to Loughlinter to-morrow, and tell him that +you will never return to him. And if you are not safe from him here +at Saulsby, you shall go abroad with us. I am sure Violet would not +object. I will not be cruel to you.” + +But in truth neither of Lady Laura’s councillors was able to give +her advice that could serve her. She felt that she could not leave +her husband without other cause than now existed, although she felt, +also, that to go back to him was to go back to utter wretchedness. +And when she saw Violet and her brother together there came to her +dreams of what might have been her own happiness had she kept herself +free from those terrible bonds in which she was now held a prisoner. +She could not get out of her heart the remembrance of that young man +who would have been her lover, if she would have let him,--of whose +love for herself she had been aware before she had handed herself +over as a bale of goods to her unloved, unloving husband. She had +married Mr. Kennedy because she was afraid that otherwise she might +find herself forced to own that she loved that other man who was +then a nobody;--almost nobody. It was not Mr. Kennedy’s money that +had bought her. This woman in regard to money had shown herself +to be as generous as the sun. But in marrying Mr. Kennedy she had +maintained herself in her high position, among the first of her own +people,--among the first socially and among the first politically. +But had she married Phineas,--had she become Lady Laura Finn,--there +would have been a great descent. She could not have entertained the +leading men of her party. She would not have been on a level with the +wives and daughters of Cabinet Ministers. She might, indeed, have +remained unmarried! But she knew that had she done so,--had she so +resolved,--that which she called her fancy would have been too strong +for her. She would not have remained unmarried. At that time it was +her fate to be either Lady Laura Kennedy or Lady Laura Finn. And she +had chosen to be Lady Laura Kennedy. To neither Violet Effingham nor +to her brother could she tell one half of the sorrow which afflicted +her. + +“I shall go back to Loughlinter,” she said to her brother. + +“Do not, unless you wish it,” he answered. + +“I do not wish it. But I shall do it. Mr. Kennedy is in London now, +and has been there since Parliament met, but he will be in Scotland +again in March, and I will go and meet him there. I told him that I +would do so when I left.” + +“But you will go up to London?” + +“I suppose so. I must do as he tells me, of course. What I mean is, I +will try it for another year.” + +“If it does not succeed, come to us.” + +“I cannot say what I will do. I would die if I knew how. Never be a +tyrant, Oswald; or at any rate, not a cold tyrant. And remember this, +there is no tyranny to a woman like telling her of her duty. Talk of +beating a woman! Beating might often be a mercy.” + +Lord Chiltern remained ten days at Saulsby, and at last did not get +away without a few unpleasant words with his father,--or without a +few words that were almost unpleasant with his mistress. On his first +arrival he had told his sister that he should go on a certain day, +and some intimation to this effect had probably been conveyed to the +Earl. But when his son told him one evening that the post-chaise had +been ordered for seven o’clock the next morning, he felt that his son +was ungracious and abrupt. There were many things still to be said, +and indeed there had been no speech of any account made at all as +yet. + +“That is very sudden,” said the Earl. + +“I thought Laura had told you.” + +“She has not told me a word lately. She may have said something +before you came here. What is there to hurry you?” + +“I thought ten days would be as long as you would care to have me +here, and as I said that I would be back by the first, I would rather +not change my plans.” + +“You are going to hunt?” + +“Yes;--I shall hunt till the end of March.” + +“You might have hunted here, Oswald.” But the son made no sign of +changing his plans; and the father, seeing that he would not change +them, became solemn and severe. There were a few words which he must +say to his son,--something of a speech that he must make;--so he led +the way into the room with the dark books and the dark furniture, and +pointed to a great deep arm-chair for his son’s accommodation. But as +he did not sit down himself, neither did Lord Chiltern. Lord Chiltern +understood very well how great is the advantage of a standing orator +over a sitting recipient of his oratory, and that advantage he would +not give to his father. “I had hoped to have an opportunity of saying +a few words to you about the future,” said the Earl. + +“I think we shall be married in July,” said Lord Chiltern. + +“So I have heard;--but after that. Now I do not want to interfere, +Oswald, and of course the less so, because Violet’s money will to +a great degree restore the inroads which have been made upon the +property.” + +“It will more than restore them altogether.” + +“Not if her estate be settled on a second son, Oswald, and I hear +from Lady Baldock that that is the wish of her relations.” + +“She shall have her own way,--as she ought. What that way is I do not +know. I have not even asked about it. She asked me, and I told her to +speak to you.” + +“Of course I should wish it to go with the family property. Of course +that would be best.” + +“She shall have her own way,--as far as I am concerned.” + +“But it is not about that, Oswald, that I would speak. What are your +plans of life when you are married?” + +“Plans of life?” + +“Yes;--plans of life. I suppose you have some plans. I suppose you +mean to apply yourself to some useful occupation?” + +“I don’t know really, sir, that I am of much use for any purpose.” +Lord Chiltern laughed as he said this, but did not laugh pleasantly. + +“You would not be a drone in the hive always?” + +“As far as I can see, sir, we who call ourselves lords generally are +drones.” + +“I deny it,” said the Earl, becoming quite energetic as he defended +his order. “I deny it utterly. I know no class of men who do work +more useful or more honest. Am I a drone? Have I been so from my +youth upwards? I have always worked, either in the one House or +in the other, and those of my fellows with whom I have been most +intimate have worked also. The same career is open to you.” + +“You mean politics?” + +“Of course I mean politics.” + +“I don’t care for politics. I see no difference in parties.” + +“But you should care for politics, and you should see a difference in +parties. It is your duty to do so. My wish is that you should go into +Parliament.” + +“I can’t do that, sir.” + +“And why not?” + +“In the first place, sir, you have not got a seat to offer me. +You have managed matters among you in such a way that poor little +Loughton has been swallowed up. If I were to canvass the electors of +Smotherem, I don’t think that many would look very sweet on me.” + +“There is the county, Oswald.” + +“And whom am I to turn out? I should spend four or five thousand +pounds, and have nothing but vexation in return for it. I had rather +not begin that game, and indeed I am too old for Parliament. I did +not take it up early enough to believe in it.” + +All this made the Earl very angry, and from these things they went +on to worse things. When questioned again as to the future, Lord +Chiltern scowled, and at last declared that it was his idea to live +abroad in the summer for his wife’s recreation, and somewhere down +in the shires during the winter for his own. He would admit of no +purpose higher than recreation, and when his father again talked to +him of a nobleman’s duty, he said that he knew of no other special +duty than that of not exceeding his income. Then his father made a +longer speech than before, and at the end of it Lord Chiltern simply +wished him good night. “It’s getting late, and I’ve promised to see +Violet before I go to bed. Good-bye.” Then he was off, and Lord +Brentford was left there, standing with his back to the fire. + +After that Lord Chiltern had a discussion with Violet, which lasted +nearly half the night; and during the discussion she told him more +than once that he was wrong. “Such as I am you must take me, or leave +me,” he said, in anger. “Nay; there is no choice now,” she answered. +“I have taken you, and I will stick by you,--whether you are right or +wrong. But when I think you wrong, I shall say so.” He swore to her +as he pressed her to his heart that she was the finest, grandest, +sweetest woman that ever the world had produced. But still there was +present on his palate, when he left her, the bitter taste of her +reprimand. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI + +What the People in Marylebone Thought + + +Phineas Finn, when the session began, was still hard at work upon his +Canada bill, and in his work found some relief for his broken back. +He went into the matter with all his energy, and before the debate +came on, knew much more about the seven thousand inhabitants of some +hundreds of thousands of square miles at the back of Canada, than +he did of the people of London or of County Clare. And he found +some consolation also in the good-nature of Madame Goesler, whose +drawing-room was always open to him. He could talk freely now to +Madame Goesler about Violet, and had even ventured to tell her that +once, in old days, he had thought of loving Lady Laura Standish. +He spoke of those days as being very old; and then he perhaps said +some word to her about dear little Mary Flood Jones. I think that +there was not much in his career of which he did not say something +to Madame Goesler, and that he received from her a good deal of +excellent advice and encouragement in the direction of his political +ambition. “A man should work,” she said,--“and you do work. A woman +can only look on, and admire and long. What is there that I can do? +I can learn to care for these Canadians, just because you care for +them. If it was the beavers that you told me of, I should have to +care for the beavers.” Then Phineas of course told her that such +sympathy from her was all and all to him. But the reader must not +on this account suppose that he was untrue in his love to Violet +Effingham. His back was altogether broken by his fall, and he was +quite aware that such was the fact. Not as yet, at least, had come +to him any remotest idea that a cure was possible. + +Early in March he heard that Lady Laura was up in town, and of course +he was bound to go to her. The information was given to him by Mr. +Kennedy himself, who told him that he had been to Scotland to fetch +her. In these days there was an acknowledged friendship between these +two, but there was no intimacy. Indeed, Mr. Kennedy was a man who +was hardly intimate with any other man. With Phineas he now and +then exchanged a few words in the lobby of the House, and when they +chanced to meet each other, they met as friends. Mr. Kennedy had no +strong wish to see again in his house the man respecting whom he had +ventured to caution his wife; but he was thoughtful; and thinking +over it all, he found it better to ask him there. No one must know +that there was any reason why Phineas should not come to his house; +especially as all the world knew that Phineas had protected him from +the garrotters. “Lady Laura is in town now,” he said; “you must go +and see her before long.” Phineas of course promised that he would +go. + +In these days Phineas was beginning to be aware that he had +enemies,--though he could not understand why anybody should be his +enemy now that Violet Effingham had decided against him. There was +poor Laurence Fitzgibbon, indeed, whom he had superseded at the +Colonial Office, but Laurence Fitzgibbon, to give merit where merit +was due, felt no animosity against him at all. “You’re welcome, me +boy; you’re welcome,--as far as yourself goes. But as for the party, +bedad, it’s rotten to the core, and won’t stand another session. +Mind, it’s I who tell you so.” And the poor idle Irishman, in so +speaking, spoke the truth as well as he knew it. But the Ratlers and +the Bonteens were Finn’s bitter foes, and did not scruple to let him +know that such was the case. Barrington Erle had scruples on the +subject, and in a certain mildly apologetic way still spoke well of +the young man, whom he had himself first introduced into political +life only four years since;--but there was no earnestness or +cordiality in Barrington Erle’s manner, and Phineas knew that his +first staunch friend could no longer be regarded as a pillar of +support. But there was a set of men, quite as influential,--so +Phineas thought,--as the busy politicians of the club, who were very +friendly to him. These were men, generally of high position, of +steady character,--hard workers,--who thought quite as much of what +a man did in his office as what he said in the House. Lords Cantrip, +Thrift, and Fawn were of this class,--and they were all very +courteous to Phineas. Envious men began to say of him that he cared +little now for any one of the party who had not a handle to his name, +and that he preferred to live with lords and lordlings. This was hard +upon him, as the great political ambition of his life was to call Mr. +Monk his friend; and he would sooner have acted with Mr. Monk than +with any other man in the Cabinet. But though Mr. Monk had not +deserted him, there had come to be little of late in common between +the two. His life was becoming that of a parliamentary official +rather than that of a politician;--whereas, though Mr. Monk was in +office, his public life was purely political. Mr. Monk had great +ideas of his own which he intended to hold, whether by holding them +he might remain in office or be forced out of office; and he was +indifferent as to the direction which things in this respect might +take with him. But Phineas, who had achieved his declared object in +getting into place, felt that he was almost constrained to adopt +the views of others, let them be what they might. Men spoke to him, +as though his parliamentary career were wholly at the disposal of +the Government,--as though he were like a proxy in Mr. Gresham’s +pocket,--with this difference, that when directed to get up and +speak on a subject he was bound to do so. This annoyed him, and he +complained to Mr. Monk; but Mr. Monk only shrugged his shoulders and +told him that he must make his choice. He soon discovered Mr. Monk’s +meaning. “If you choose to make Parliament a profession,--as you have +chosen,--you can have no right even to think of independence. If the +country finds you out when you are in Parliament, and then invites +you to office, of course the thing is different. But the latter is a +slow career, and probably would not have suited you.” That was the +meaning of what Mr. Monk said to him. After all, these official and +parliamentary honours were greater when seen at a distance than he +found them to be now that he possessed them. Mr. Low worked ten hours +a day, and could rarely call a day his own; but, after all, with all +this work, Mr. Low was less of a slave, and more independent, than +was he, Phineas Finn, Under-Secretary of State, the friend of Cabinet +Ministers, and Member of Parliament since his twenty-fifth year! He +began to dislike the House, and to think it a bore to sit on the +Treasury bench;--he, who a few years since had regarded Parliament +as the British heaven on earth, and who, since he had been in +Parliament, had looked at that bench with longing envious eyes. +Laurence Fitzgibbon, who seemed to have as much to eat and drink as +ever, and a bed also to lie on, could come and go in the House as he +pleased, since his--resignation. + +And there was a new trouble coming. The Reform Bill for England had +passed; but now there was to be another Reform Bill for Ireland. Let +them pass what bill they might, this would not render necessary a +new Irish election till the entire House should be dissolved. But he +feared that he would be called upon to vote for the abolition of his +own borough,--and for other points almost equally distasteful to him. +He knew that he would not be consulted,--but would be called upon to +vote, and perhaps to speak; and was certain that if he did so, there +would be war between him and his constituents. Lord Tulla had already +communicated to him his ideas that, for certain excellent reasons, +Loughshane ought to be spared. But this evil was, he hoped, a distant +one. It was generally thought that, as the English Reform Bill had +been passed last year, and as the Irish bill, if carried, could not +be immediately operative, the doing of the thing might probably be +postponed to the next session. + +When he first saw Lady Laura he was struck by the great change in her +look and manner. She seemed to him to be old and worn, and he judged +her to be wretched,--as she was. She had written to him to say that +she would be at her father’s house on such and such a morning, and +he had gone to her there. “It is of no use your coming to Grosvenor +Place,” she said. “I see nobody there, and the house is like a +prison.” Later in the interview she told him not to come and dine +there, even though Mr. Kennedy should ask him. + +“And why not?” he demanded. + +“Because everything would be stiff, and cold, and uncomfortable. I +suppose you do not wish to make your way into a lady’s house if she +asks you not.” There was a sort of smile on her face as she said +this, but he could perceive that it was a very bitter smile. “You can +easily excuse yourself.” + +“Yes, I can excuse myself.” + +“Then do so. If you are particularly anxious to dine with Mr. +Kennedy, you can easily do so at your club.” In the tone of her +voice, and the words she used, she hardly attempted to conceal her +dislike of her husband. + +“And now tell me about Miss Effingham,” he said. + +“There is nothing for me to tell.” + +“Yes there is;--much to tell. You need not spare me. I do not pretend +to deny to you that I have been hit hard,--so hard, that I have been +nearly knocked down; but it will not hurt me now to hear of it all. +Did she always love him?” + +“I cannot say. I think she did after her own fashion.” + +“I sometimes think women would be less cruel,” he said, “if they knew +how great is the anguish they can cause.” + +“Has she been cruel to you?” + +“I have nothing to complain of. But if she loved Chiltern, why did +she not tell him so at once? And why--” + +“This is complaining, Mr. Finn.” + +“I will not complain. I would not even think of it, if I could help +it. Are they to be married soon?” + +“In July;--so they now say.” + +“And where will they live?” + +“Ah! no one can tell. I do not think that they agree as yet as to +that. But if she has a strong wish Oswald will yield to it. He was +always generous.” + +“I would not even have had a wish,--except to have her with me.” + +There was a pause for a moment, and then Lady Laura answered him with +a touch of scorn in her voice,--and with some scorn, too, in her +eye:--“That is all very well, Mr. Finn; but the season will not be +over before there is some one else.” + +“There you wrong me.” + +“They tell me that you are already at Madame Goesler’s feet.” + +“Madame Goesler!” + +“What matters who it is as long as she is young and pretty, and +has the interest attached to her of something more than ordinary +position? When men tell me of the cruelty of women, I think that no +woman can be really cruel because no man is capable of suffering. A +woman, if she is thrown aside, does suffer.” + +“Do you mean to tell me, then, that I am indifferent to Miss +Effingham?” When he thus spoke, I wonder whether he had forgotten +that he had ever declared to this very woman to whom he was speaking, +a passion for herself. + +“Psha!” + +“It suits you, Lady Laura, to be harsh to me, but you are not +speaking your thoughts.” + +Then she lost all control of herself, and poured out to him the real +truth that was in her. “And whose thoughts did you speak when you and +I were on the braes of Loughlinter? Am I wrong in saying that change +is easy to you, or have I grown to be so old that you can talk to me +as though those far-away follies ought to be forgotten? Was it so +long ago? Talk of love! I tell you, sir, that your heart is one in +which love can have no durable hold. Violet Effingham! There may be +a dozen Violets after her, and you will be none the worse.” Then she +walked away from him to the window, and he stood still, dumb, on the +spot that he had occupied. “You had better go now,” she said, “and +forget what has passed between us. I know that you are a gentleman, +and that you will forget it.” The strong idea of his mind when he +heard all this was the injustice of her attack,--of the attack as +coming from her, who had all but openly acknowledged that she had +married a man whom she had not loved because it suited her to escape +from a man whom she did love. She was reproaching him now for his +fickleness in having ventured to set his heart upon another woman, +when she herself had been so much worse than fickle,--so profoundly +false! And yet he could not defend himself by accusing her. What +would she have had of him? What would she have proposed to him, had +he questioned her as to his future, when they were together on the +braes of Loughlinter? Would she not have bid him to find some one +else whom he could love? Would she then have suggested to him the +propriety of nursing his love for herself,--for her who was about +to become another man’s wife,--for her after she should have become +another man’s wife? And yet because he had not done so, and because +she had made herself wretched by marrying a man whom she did not +love, she reproached him! + +He could not tell her of all this, so he fell back for his defence on +words which had passed between them since the day when they had met +on the braes. “Lady Laura,” he said, “it is only a month or two since +you spoke to me as though you wished that Violet Effingham might be +my wife.” + +“I never wished it. I never said that I wished it. There are moments +in which we try to give a child any brick on the chimney top for +which it may whimper.” Then there was another silence which she was +the first to break. “You had better go,” she said. “I know that I +have committed myself, and of course I would rather be alone.” + +“And what would you wish that I should do?” + +“Do?” she said. “What you do can be nothing to me.” + +“Must we be strangers, you and I, because there was a time in which +we were almost more than friends?” + +“I have spoken nothing about myself, sir,--only as I have been drawn +to do so by your pretence of being love-sick. You can do nothing for +me,--nothing,--nothing. What is it possible that you should do for +me? You are not my father, or my brother.” It is not to be supposed +that she wanted him to fall at her feet. It is to be supposed that +had he done so her reproaches would have been hot and heavy on +him; but yet it almost seemed to him as though he had no other +alternative. No!--He was not her father or her brother;--nor could he +be her husband. And at this very moment, as she knew, his heart was +sore with love for another woman. And yet he hardly knew how not to +throw himself at her feet, and swear, that he would return now and +for ever to his old passion, hopeless, sinful, degraded as it would +be. + +“I wish it were possible for me to do something,” he said, drawing +near to her. + +“There is nothing to be done,” she said, clasping her hands together. +“For me nothing. I have before me no escape, no hope, no prospect of +relief, no place of consolation. You have everything before you. You +complain of a wound! You have at least shown that such wounds with +you are capable of cure. You cannot but feel that when I hear your +wailings, I must be impatient. You had better leave me now, if you +please.” + +“And are we to be no longer friends?” he asked. + +“As far as friendship can go without intercourse, I shall always be +your friend.” + +Then he went, and as he walked down to his office, so intent was he +on that which had just passed that he hardly saw the people as he +met them, or was aware of the streets through which his way led him. +There had been something in the later words which Lady Laura had +spoken that had made him feel almost unconsciously that the injustice +of her reproaches was not so great as he had at first felt it to be, +and that she had some cause for her scorn. If her case was such as +she had so plainly described it, what was his plight as compared with +hers? He had lost his Violet, and was in pain. There must be much +of suffering before him. But though Violet were lost, the world was +not all blank before his eyes. He had not told himself, even in his +dreariest moments, that there was before him “no escape, no hope, no +prospect of relief, no place of consolation.” And then he began to +think whether this must in truth be the case with Lady Laura. What if +Mr. Kennedy were to die? What in such case as that would he do? In +ten or perhaps in five years time might it not be possible for him +to go through the ceremony of falling upon his knees, with stiffened +joints indeed, but still with something left of the ardour of his old +love, of his oldest love of all? + +As he was thinking of this he was brought up short in his walk as he +was entering the Green Park beneath the Duke’s figure, by Laurence +Fitzgibbon. “How dare you not be in your office at such an hour as +this, Finn, me boy,--or, at least, not in the House,--or serving your +masters after some fashion?” said the late Under-Secretary. + +“So I am. I’ve been on a message to Marylebone, to find what the +people there think about the Canadas.” + +“And what do they think about the Canadas in Marylebone?” + +“Not one man in a thousand cares whether the Canadians prosper or +fail to prosper. They care that Canada should not go to the States, +because,--though they don’t love the Canadians, they do hate the +Americans. That’s about the feeling in Marylebone,--and it’s +astonishing how like the Maryleboners are to the rest of the world.” + +“Dear me, what a fellow you are for an Under-Secretary! You’ve heard +the news about little Violet.” + +“What news?” + +“She has quarrelled with Chiltern, you know.” + +“Who says so?” + +“Never mind who says so, but they tell me it’s true. Take an old +friend’s advice, and strike while the iron’s hot.” + +Phineas did not believe what he had heard, but though he did not +believe it, still the tidings set his heart beating. He would have +believed it less perhaps had he known that Laurence had just received +the news from Mrs. Bonteen. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII + +The Top Brick of the Chimney + + +Madame Max Goesler was a lady who knew that in fighting the battles +which fell to her lot, in arranging the social difficulties which she +found in her way, in doing the work of the world which came to her +share, very much more care was necessary,--and care too about things +apparently trifling,--than was demanded by the affairs of people in +general. And this was not the case so much on account of any special +disadvantage under which she laboured, as because she was ambitious +of doing the very uttermost with those advantages which she +possessed. Her own birth had not been high, and that of her husband, +we may perhaps say, had been very low. He had been old when she had +married him, and she had had little power of making any progress till +he had left her a widow. Then she found herself possessed of money, +certainly; of wit,--as she believed; and of a something in her +personal appearance which, as she plainly told herself, she might +perhaps palm off upon the world as beauty. She was a woman who did +not flatter herself, who did not strongly believe in herself, who +could even bring herself to wonder that men and women in high +position should condescend to notice such a one as her. With all her +ambition, there was a something of genuine humility about her; and +with all the hardness she had learned there was a touch of womanly +softness which would sometimes obtrude itself upon her heart. When +she found a woman really kind to her, she would be very kind in +return. And though she prized wealth, and knew that her money was her +only rock of strength, she could be lavish with it, as though it were +dirt. + +But she was highly ambitious, and she played her game with +great skill and great caution. Her doors were not open to all +callers;--were shut even to some who find but few doors closed +against them;--were shut occasionally to those whom she most +specially wished to see within them. She knew how to allure by +denying, and to make the gift rich by delaying it. We are told by the +Latin proverb that he who gives quickly gives twice; but I say that +she who gives quickly seldom gives more than half. When in the early +spring the Duke of Omnium first knocked at Madame Max Goesler’s door, +he was informed that she was not at home. The Duke felt very cross as +he handed his card out from his dark green brougham,--on the panel +of which there was no blazon to tell the owner’s rank. He was very +cross. She had told him that she was always at home between four and +six on a Thursday. He had condescended to remember the information, +and had acted upon it,--and now she was not at home! She was not at +home, though he had come on a Thursday at the very hour she had named +to him. Any duke would have been cross, but the Duke of Omnium was +particularly cross. No;--he certainly would give himself no further +trouble by going to the cottage in Park Lane. And yet Madame Max +Goesler had been in her own drawing-room, while the Duke was handing +out his card from the brougham below. + +On the next morning there came to him a note from the cottage,--such +a pretty note!--so penitent, so full of remorse,--and, which was +better still, so laden with disappointment, that he forgave her. + + + MY DEAR DUKE, + + I hardly know how to apologise to you, after having told + you that I am always at home on Thursdays; and I was at + home yesterday when you called. But I was unwell, and I + had told the servant to deny me, not thinking how much I + might be losing. Indeed, indeed, I would not have given + way to a silly headache, had I thought that your Grace + would have been here. I suppose that now I must not even + hope for the photograph. + + Yours penitently, + + MARIE M. G. + + +The note-paper was very pretty note-paper, hardly scented, and yet +conveying a sense of something sweet, and the monogram was small and +new, and fantastic without being grotesque, and the writing was of +that sort which the Duke, having much experience, had learned to +like,--and there was something in the signature which pleased him. So +he wrote a reply,-- + + + DEAR MADAME MAX GOESLER, + + I will call again next Thursday, or, if prevented, will + let you know. + + Yours faithfully, + + O. + + +When the green brougham drew up at the door of the cottage on the +next Thursday, Madame Goesler was at home, and had no headache. + +She was not at all penitent now. She had probably studied the +subject, and had resolved that penitence was more alluring in a +letter than when acted in person. She received her guest with perfect +ease, and apologised for the injury done to him in the preceding +week, with much self-complacency. “I was so sorry when I got your +card,” she said; “and yet I am so glad now that you were refused.” + +“If you were ill,” said the Duke, “it was better.” + +“I was horribly ill, to tell the truth;--as pale as a death’s head, +and without a word to say for myself. I was fit to see no one.” + +“Then of course you were right.” + +“But it flashed upon me immediately that I had named a day, and that +you had been kind enough to remember it. But I did not think you came +to London till the March winds were over.” + +“The March winds blow everywhere in this wretched island, Madame +Goesler, and there is no escaping them. Youth may prevail against +them; but on me they are so potent that I think they will succeed in +driving me out of my country. I doubt whether an old man should ever +live in England if he can help it.” + +The Duke certainly was an old man, if a man turned of seventy be +old;--and he was a man too who did not bear his years with hearty +strength. He moved slowly, and turned his limbs, when he did turn +them, as though the joints were stiff in their sockets. But there was +nevertheless about him a dignity of demeanour, a majesty of person, +and an upright carriage which did not leave an idea of old age as +the first impress on the minds of those who encountered the Duke of +Omnium. He was tall and moved without a stoop; and though he moved +slowly, he had learned to seem so to do because it was the proper +kind of movement for one so high up in the world as himself. And +perhaps his tailor did something for him. He had not been long under +Madame Max Goesler’s eyes before she perceived that his tailor had +done a good deal for him. When he alluded to his own age and to +her youth, she said some pleasant little word as to the difference +between oak-trees and currant-bushes; and by that time she was +seated comfortably on her sofa, and the Duke was on a chair before +her,--just as might have been any man who was not a Duke. + +After a little time the photograph was brought forth from his Grace’s +pocket. That bringing out and giving of photographs, with the demand +for counter photographs, is the most absurd practice of the day. +“I don’t think I look very nice, do I?” “Oh yes,--very nice, but a +little too old; and certainly you haven’t got those spots all over +your forehead. These are the remarks which on such occasions are the +most common. It may be said that to give a photograph or to take a +photograph without the utterance of some words which would be felt by +a bystander to be absurd, is almost an impossibility. At this moment +there was no bystander, and therefore the Duke and the lady had no +need for caution. Words were spoken that were very absurd. Madame +Goesler protested that the Duke’s photograph was more to her than the +photographs of all the world beside; and the Duke declared that he +would carry the lady’s picture next to his heart,--I am afraid he +said for ever and ever. Then he took her hand and pressed it, and was +conscious that for a man over seventy years of age he did that kind +of thing very well. + +“You will come and dine with me, Duke?” she said, when he began to +talk of going. + +“I never dine out.” + +“That is just the reason you should dine with me. You shall meet +nobody you do not wish to meet.” + +“I would so much rather see you in this way,--I would indeed. I do +dine out occasionally, but it is at big formal parties, which I +cannot escape without giving offence.” + +“And you cannot escape my little not formal party,--without giving +offence.” She looked into his face as she spoke, and he knew that she +meant it. And he looked into hers, and thought that her eyes were +brighter than any he was in the habit of seeing in these latter days. +“Name your own day, Duke. Will a Sunday suit you?” + +“If I must come--” + +“You must come.” As she spoke her eyes sparkled more and more, and +her colour went and came, and she shook her curls till they emitted +through the air the same soft feeling of a perfume that her note had +produced. Then her foot peeped out from beneath the black and yellow +drapery of her dress, and the Duke saw that it was perfect. And she +put out her finger and touched his arm as she spoke. Her hand was +very fair, and her fingers were bright with rich gems. To men such as +the Duke, a hand, to be quite fair, should be bright with rich gems. +“You must come,” she said,--not imploring him now but commanding him. + +“Then I will come,” he answered, and a certain Sunday was fixed. + +The arranging of the guests was a little difficulty, till Madame +Goesler begged the Duke to bring with him Lady Glencora Palliser, +his nephew’s wife. This at last he agreed to do. As the wife of his +nephew and heir, Lady Glencora was to the Duke all that a woman could +be. She was everything that was proper as to her own conduct, and not +obtrusive as to his. She did not bore him, and yet she was attentive. +Although in her husband’s house she was a fierce politician, in his +house she was simply an attractive woman. “Ah; she is very clever,” +the Duke once said, “she adapts herself. If she were to go from any +one place to any other, she would be at home in both.” And the +movement of his Grace’s hand as he spoke seemed to indicate the +widest possible sphere for travelling and the widest possible +scope for adaptation. The dinner was arranged, and went off very +pleasantly. Madame Goesler’s eyes were not quite so bright as they +were during that morning visit, nor did she touch her guest’s arm in +a manner so alluring. She was very quiet, allowing her guests to do +most of the talking. But the dinner and the flowers and the wine were +excellent, and the whole thing was so quiet that the Duke liked it. +“And now you must come and dine with me,” the Duke said as he took +his leave. “A command to that effect will be one which I certainly +shall not disobey,” whispered Madame Goesler. + +“I am afraid he is going to get fond of that woman.” These words +were spoken early on the following morning by Lady Glencora to her +husband, Mr. Palliser. + +“He is always getting fond of some woman, and he will to the end,” +said Mr. Palliser. + +“But this Madame Max Goesler is very clever.” + +“So they tell me. I have generally thought that my uncle likes +talking to a fool the best.” + +“Every man likes a clever woman the best,” said Lady Glencora, “if +the clever woman only knows how to use her cleverness.” + +“I’m sure I hope he’ll be amused,” said Mr. Palliser innocently. “A +little amusement is all that he cares for now.” + +“Suppose you were told some day that he was going--to be married?” +said Lady Glencora. + +“My uncle married!” + +“Why not he as well as another?” + +“And to Madame Goesler?” + +“If he be ever married it will be to some such woman.” + +“There is not a man in all England who thinks more of his own +position than my uncle,” said Mr. Palliser somewhat proudly,--almost +with a touch of anger. + +“That is all very well, Plantagenet, and true enough in a kind of +way. But a child will sacrifice all that it has for the top brick +of the chimney, and old men sometimes become children. You would +not like to be told some morning that there was a little Lord +Silverbridge in the world.” Now the eldest son of the Duke of +Omnium, when the Duke of Omnium had a son, was called the Earl of +Silverbridge; and Mr. Palliser, when this question was asked him, +became very pale. Mr. Palliser knew well how thoroughly the cunning +of the serpent was joined to the purity of the dove in the person +of his wife, and he was sure that there was cause for fear when she +hinted at danger. + +“Perhaps you had better keep your eye upon him,” he said to his wife. + +“And upon her,” said Lady Glencora. + +When Madame Goesler dined at the Duke’s house in St. James’s Square +there was a large party, and Lady Glencora knew that there was no +need for apprehension then. Indeed Madame Goesler was no more than +any other guest, and the Duke hardly spoke to her. There was a +Duchess there,--the Duchess of St. Bungay, and old Lady Hartletop, +who was a dowager marchioness,--an old lady who pestered the Duke +very sorely,--and Madame Max Goesler received her reward, and knew +that she was receiving it, in being asked to meet these people. Would +not all these names, including her own, be blazoned to the world in +the columns of the next day’s _Morning Post_? There was no absolute +danger here, as Lady Glencora knew; and Lady Glencora, who was +tolerant and begrudged nothing to Madame Max except the one thing, +was quite willing to meet the lady at such a grand affair as this. +But the Duke, even should he become ever so childish a child in his +old age, still would have that plain green brougham at his command, +and could go anywhere in that at any hour in the day. And then +Madame Goesler was so manifestly a clever woman. A Duchess of Omnium +might be said to fill,--in the estimation, at any rate, of English +people,--the highest position in the world short of royalty. And the +reader will remember that Lady Glencora intended to be a Duchess of +Omnium herself,--unless some very unexpected event should intrude +itself. She intended also that her little boy, her fair-haired, +curly-pated, bold-faced little boy, should be Earl of Silverbridge +when the sand of the old man should have run itself out. Heavens, +what a blow would it be, should some little wizen-cheeked half-monkey +baby, with black brows, and yellow skin, be brought forward and shown +to her some day as the heir! What a blow to herself;--and what a blow +to all England! “We can’t prevent it if he chooses to do it,” said +her husband, who had his budget to bring forward that very night, and +who in truth cared more for his budget than he did for his heirship +at that moment. “But we must prevent it,” said Lady Glencora. “If I +stick to him by the tail of his coat, I’ll prevent it.” At the time +when she thus spoke, the dark green brougham had been twice again +brought up at the door in Park Lane. + +And the brougham was standing there a third time. It was May now, the +latter end of May, and the park opposite was beautiful with green +things, and the air was soft and balmy, as it will be sometimes even +in May, and the flowers in the balcony were full of perfume, and the +charm of London,--what London can be to the rich,--was at its height. +The Duke was sitting in Madame Goesler’s drawing-room, at some +distance from her, for she had retreated. The Duke had a habit +of taking her hand, which she never would permit for above a few +seconds. At such times she would show no anger, but would retreat. + +“Marie,” said the Duke, “you will go abroad when the summer is over.” +As an old man he had taken the privilege of calling her Marie, and +she had not forbidden it. + +“Yes, probably; to Vienna. I have property in Vienna you know, which +must be looked after.” + +“Do not mind Vienna this year. Come to Italy.” + +“What; in summer, Duke?” + +“The lakes are charming in August. I have a villa on Como which is +empty now, and I think I shall go there. If you do not know the +Italian lakes, I shall be so happy to show them to you.” + +“I know them well, my lord. When I was young I was on the Maggiore +almost alone. Some day I will tell you a history of what I was in +those days.” + +“You shall tell it me there.” + +“No, my lord, I fear not. I have no villa there.” + +“Will you not accept the loan of mine? It shall be all your own while +you use it.” + +“My own,--to deny the right of entrance to its owner?” + +“If it so pleases you.” + +“It would not please me. It would so far from please me that I will +never put myself in a position that might make it possible for me to +require to do so. No, Duke; it behoves me to live in houses of my +own. Women of whom more is known can afford to be your guests.” + +“Marie, I would have no other guest than you.” + +“It cannot be so, Duke.” + +“And why not?” + +“Why not? Am I to be put to the blush by being made to answer such a +question as that? Because the world would say that the Duke of Omnium +had a new mistress, and that Madame Goesler was the woman. Do you +think that I would be any man’s mistress;--even yours? Or do you +believe that for the sake of the softness of a summer evening on an +Italian lake, I would give cause to the tongues of the women here to +say that I was such a thing? You would have me lose all that I have +gained by steady years of sober work for the sake of a week or two of +dalliance such as that! No, Duke; not for your dukedom!” + +How his Grace might have got through his difficulty had they been +left alone, cannot be told. For at this moment the door was opened, +and Lady Glencora Palliser was announced. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII + +Rara Avis in Terris + + +“Come and see the country and judge for yourself,” said Phineas. + +“I should like nothing better,” said Mr. Monk. + +“It has often seemed to me that men in Parliament know less about +Ireland than they do of the interior of Africa,” said Phineas. + +“It is seldom that we know anything accurately on any subject that +we have not made matter of careful study,” said Mr. Monk, “and very +often do not do so even then. We are very apt to think that we men +and women understand one another; but most probably you know nothing +even of the modes of thought of the man who lives next door to you.” + +“I suppose not.” + +“There are general laws current in the world as to morality. ‘Thou +shalt not steal,’ for instance. That has necessarily been current as +a law through all nations. But the first man you meet in the street +will have ideas about theft so different from yours, that, if you +knew them as you know your own, you would say that this law and yours +were not even founded on the same principle. It is compatible with +this man’s honesty to cheat you in a matter of horseflesh, with that +man’s in a traffic of railway shares, with that other man’s as to a +woman’s fortune; with a fourth’s anything may be done for a seat in +Parliament, while the fifth man, who stands high among us, and who +implores his God every Sunday to write that law on his heart, spends +every hour of his daily toil in a system of fraud, and is regarded as +a pattern of the national commerce!” + +Mr. Monk and Phineas were dining together at Mr. Monk’s house, and +the elder politician of the two in this little speech had recurred to +certain matters which had already been discussed between them. Mr. +Monk was becoming somewhat sick of his place in the Cabinet, though +he had not as yet whispered a word of his sickness to any living +ears; and he had begun to pine for the lost freedom of a seat below +the gangway. He had been discussing political honesty with Phineas, +and hence had come the sermon of which I have ventured to reproduce +the concluding denunciations. + +Phineas was fond of such discussions and fond of holding them with +Mr. Monk,--in this matter fluttering like a moth round a candle. He +would not perceive that as he had made up his mind to be a servant +of the public in Parliament, he must abandon all idea of independent +action; and unless he did so he could be neither successful as +regarded himself, or useful to the public whom he served. Could a man +be honest in Parliament, and yet abandon all idea of independence? +When he put such questions to Mr. Monk he did not get a direct +answer. And indeed the question was never put directly. But the +teaching which he received was ever of a nature to make him uneasy. +It was always to this effect: “You have taken up the trade now, and +seem to be fit for success in it. You had better give up thinking +about its special honesty.” And yet Mr. Monk would on an occasion +preach to him such a sermon as that which he had just uttered! +Perhaps there is no question more difficult to a man’s mind than that +of the expediency or inexpediency of scruples in political life. +Whether would a candidate for office be more liable to rejection from +a leader because he was known to be scrupulous, or because he was +known to be the reverse? + +“But putting aside the fourth commandment and all the theories, you +will come to Ireland?” said Phineas. + +“I shall be delighted.” + +“I don’t live in a castle, you know.” + +“I thought everybody did live in a castle in Ireland,” said Mr. Monk. +“They seemed to do when I was there twenty years ago. But for myself, +I prefer a cottage.” + +This trip to Ireland had been proposed in consequence of certain +ideas respecting tenant-right which Mr. Monk was beginning to adopt, +and as to which the minds of politicians were becoming moved. It +had been all very well to put down Fenianism, and Ribandmen, and +Repeal,--and everything that had been put down in Ireland in the way +of rebellion for the last seventy-five years. England and Ireland +had been apparently joined together by laws of nature so fixed, +that even politicians liberal as was Mr. Monk,--liberal as was Mr. +Turnbull,--could not trust themselves to think that disunion could +be for the good of the Irish. They had taught themselves that it +certainly could not be good for the English. But if it was incumbent +on England to force upon Ireland the maintenance of the Union for her +own sake, and for England’s sake, because England could not afford +independence established so close against her own ribs,--it was at +any rate necessary to England’s character that the bride thus +bound in a compulsory wedlock should be endowed with all the best +privileges that a wife can enjoy. Let her at least not be a kept +mistress. Let it be bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, if we +are to live together in the married state. Between husband and +wife a warm word now and then matters but little, if there be a +thoroughly good understanding at bottom. But let there be that good +understanding at bottom. What about this Protestant Church; and what +about this tenant-right? Mr. Monk had been asking himself these +questions for some time past. In regard to the Church, he had long +made up his mind that the Establishment in Ireland was a crying sin. +A man had married a woman whom he knew to be of a religion different +from his own, and then insisted that his wife should say that she +believed those things which he knew very well that she did not +believe. But, as Mr. Monk well knew, the subject of the Protestant +Endowments in Ireland was so difficult that it would require almost +more than human wisdom to adjust it. It was one of those matters +which almost seemed to require the interposition of some higher +power,--the coming of some apparently chance event,--to clear away +the evil; as a fire comes, and pestilential alleys are removed; as a +famine comes, and men are driven from want and ignorance and dirt to +seek new homes and new thoughts across the broad waters; as a war +comes, and slavery is banished from the face of the earth. But in +regard to tenant-right, to some arrangement by which a tenant in +Ireland might be at least encouraged to lay out what little capital +he might have in labour or money without being at once called upon to +pay rent for that outlay which was his own, as well as for the land +which was not his own,--Mr. Monk thought that it was possible that if +a man would look hard enough he might perhaps be able to see his way +as to that. He had spoken to two of his colleagues on the subject, +the two men in the Cabinet whom he believed to be the most thoroughly +honest in their ideas as public servants, the Duke and Mr. Gresham. +There was so much to be done;--and then so little was known upon the +subject! “I will endeavour to study it,” said Mr. Monk. “If you can +see your way, do;” said Mr. Gresham,--“but of course we cannot bind +ourselves.” “I should be glad to see it named in the Queen’s speech +at the beginning of the next session,” said Mr. Monk. “That is a long +way off as yet,” said Mr. Gresham, laughing. “Who will be in then, +and who will be out?” So the matter was disposed of at the time, but +Mr. Monk did not abandon his idea. He rather felt himself the more +bound to cling to it because he received so little encouragement. +What was a seat in the Cabinet to him that he should on that account +omit a duty? He had not taken up politics as a trade. He had sat +far behind the Treasury bench or below the gangway for many a year, +without owing any man a shilling,--and could afford to do so again. + +But it was different with Phineas Finn, as Mr. Monk himself +understood;--and, understanding this, he felt himself bound to +caution his young friend. But it may be a question whether his +cautions did not do more harm than good. “I shall be delighted,” he +said, “to go over with you in August, but I do not think that if I +were you, I would take up this matter.” + +“And why not? You don’t want to fight the battle singlehanded?” + +“No; I desire no such glory, and would wish to have no better +lieutenant than you. But you have a subject of which you are really +fond, which you are beginning to understand, and in regard to which +you can make yourself useful.” + +“You mean this Canada business?” + +“Yes;--and that will grow to other matters as regards the colonies. +There is nothing so important to a public man as that he should have +his own subject;--the thing which he understands, and in respect of +which he can make himself really useful.” + +“Then there comes a change.” + +“Yes;--and the man who has half learned how to have a ship built +without waste is sent into opposition, and is then brought back +to look after regiments, or perhaps has to take up that beautiful +subject, a study of the career of India. But, nevertheless, if you +have a subject, stick to it at any rate as long as it will stick to +you.” + +“But,” said Phineas, “if a man takes up his own subject, independent +of the Government, no man can drive him from it.” + +“And how often does he do anything? Look at the annual motions which +come forward in the hands of private men,--Maynooth and the ballot +for instance. It is becoming more and more apparent every day that +all legislation must be carried by the Government, and must be +carried in obedience to the expressed wish of the people. The truest +democracy that ever had a chance of living is that which we are now +establishing in Great Britain.” + +“Then leave tenant-right to the people and the Cabinet. Why should +you take it up?” + +Mr. Monk paused a moment or two before he replied. “If I choose to +run a-muck, there is no reason why you should follow me. I am old and +you are young. I want nothing from politics as a profession, and you +do. Moreover, you have a congenial subject where you are, and need +not disturb yourself. For myself, I tell you, in confidence, that I +cannot speak so comfortably of my own position.” + +“We will go and see, at any rate,” said Phineas. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Monk, “we will go and see.” And thus, in the month of +May, it was settled between them that, as soon as the session should +be over, and the incidental work of his office should allow Phineas +to pack up and be off, they two should start together for Ireland. +Phineas felt rather proud as he wrote to his father and asked +permission to bring home with him a Cabinet Minister as a visitor. At +this time the reputation of Phineas at Killaloe, as well in the minds +of the Killaloeians generally as in those of the inhabitants of the +paternal house, stood very high indeed. How could a father think that +a son had done badly when before he was thirty years of age he was +earning £2,000 a year? And how could a father not think well of a +son who had absolutely paid back certain moneys into the paternal +coffers? The moneys so repaid had not been much; but the repayment +of any such money at Killaloe had been regarded as little short of +miraculous. The news of Mr. Monk’s coming flew about the town, about +the county, about the diocese, and all people began to say all good +things about the old doctor’s only son. Mrs. Finn had long since +been quite sure that a real black swan had been sent forth out of +her nest. And the sisters Finn, for some time past, had felt in +all social gatherings they stood quite on a different footing than +formerly because of their brother. They were asked about in the +county, and two of them had been staying only last Easter with the +Molonys,--the Molonys of Poldoodie! How should a father and a mother +and sisters not be grateful to such a son, to such a brother, to such +a veritable black swan out of the nest! And as for dear little Mary +Flood Jones, her eyes became suffused with tears as in her solitude +she thought how much out of her reach this swan was flying. And yet +she took joy in his swanhood, and swore that she would love him +still;--that she would love him always. Might he bring home with him +to Killaloe, Mr. Monk, the Cabinet Minister! Of course he might. When +Mrs. Finn first heard of this august arrival, she felt as though she +would like to expend herself in entertaining, though but an hour, the +whole cabinet. + +Phineas, during the spring, had, of course, met Mr. Kennedy +frequently in and about the House, and had become aware that Lady +Laura’s husband, from time to time, made little overtures of civility +to him,--taking him now and again by the button-hole, walking home +with him as far as their joint paths allowed, and asking him once +or twice to come and dine in Grosvenor Place. These little advances +towards a repetition of the old friendship Phineas would have avoided +altogether, had it been possible. The invitation to Mr. Kennedy’s +house he did refuse, feeling himself positively bound to do so by +Lady Laura’s command, let the consequences be what they might. When +he did refuse, Mr. Kennedy would assume a look of displeasure and +leave him, and Phineas would hope that the work was done. Then there +would come another encounter, and the invitation would be repeated. +At last, about the middle of May, there came another note. “Dear +Finn, will you dine with us on Wednesday, the 28th? I give you a long +notice, because you seem to have so many appointments. Yours always, +Robert Kennedy.” He had no alternative. He must refuse, even though +double the notice had been given. He could only think that Mr. +Kennedy was a very obtuse man and one who would not take a hint, +and hope that he might succeed at last. So he wrote an answer, not +intended to be conciliatory. “My dear Kennedy, I am sorry to say that +I am engaged on the 28th. Yours always, Phineas Finn.” At this period +he did his best to keep out of Mr. Kennedy’s way, and would be very +cunning in his manoeuvres that they should not be alone together. +It was difficult, as they sat on the same bench in the House, +and consequently saw each other almost every day of their lives. +Nevertheless, he thought that with a little cunning he might prevail, +especially as he was not unwilling to give so much of offence as +might assist his own object. But when Mr. Kennedy called upon him at +his office the day after he had written the above note, he had no +means of escape. + +“I am sorry you cannot come to us on the 28th,” Mr. Kennedy said, as +soon as he was seated. + +Phineas was taken so much by surprise that all his cunning failed +him. “Well, yes,” said he; “I was very sorry;--very sorry indeed.” + +“It seems to me, Finn, that you have had some reason for avoiding me +of late. I do not know that I have done anything to offend you.” + +“Nothing on earth,” said Phineas. + +“I am wrong, then, in supposing that anything beyond mere chance has +prevented you from coming to my house?” Phineas felt that he was in +a terrible difficulty, and he felt also that he was being rather +ill-used in being thus cross-examined as to his reasons for not going +to a gentleman’s dinner. He thought that a man ought to be allowed +to choose where he would go and where he would not go, and that +questions such as these were very uncommon. Mr. Kennedy was sitting +opposite to him, looking more grave and more sour than usual;--and +now his own countenance also became a little solemn. It was +impossible that he should use Lady Laura’s name, and yet he must, in +some way, let his persecuting friend know that no further invitation +would be of any use;--that there was something beyond mere chance +in his not going to Grosvenor Place. But how was he to do this? The +difficulty was so great that he could not see his way out of it. So +he sat silent with a solemn face. Mr. Kennedy then asked him another +question, which made the difficulty ten times greater. “Has my wife +asked you not to come to our house?” + +It was necessary now that he should make a rush and get out of his +trouble in some way. “To tell you the truth, Kennedy, I don’t think +she wants to see me there.” + +“That does not answer my question. Has she asked you not to come?” + +“She said that which left on my mind an impression that she would +sooner that I did not come.” + +“What did she say?” + +“How can I answer such a question as that, Kennedy? Is it fair to ask +it?” + +“Quite fair,--I think.” + +“I think it quite unfair, and I must decline to answer it. I cannot +imagine what you expect to gain by cross-questioning me in this way. +Of course no man likes to go to a house if he does not believe that +everybody there will make him welcome.” + +“You and Lady Laura used to be great friends.” + +“I hope we are not enemies now. But things will occur that cause +friendships to grow cool.” + +“Have you quarrelled with her father?” + +“With Lord Brentford?--no.” + +“Or with her brother,--since the duel I mean?” + +“Upon my word and honour I cannot stand this, and I will not. I have +not as yet quarrelled with anybody; but I must quarrel with you, if +you go on in this way. It is quite unusual that a man should be put +through his facings after such a fashion, and I must beg that there +may be an end of it.” + +“Then I must ask Lady Laura.” + +“You can say what you like to your own wife of course. I cannot +hinder you.” + +Upon that Mr. Kennedy formally shook hands with him, in token that +there was no positive breach between them,--as two nations may still +maintain their alliance, though they have made up their minds to hate +each other, and thwart each other at every turn,--and took his leave. +Phineas, as he sat at his window, looking out into the park, and +thinking of what had passed, could not but reflect that, disagreeable +as Mr. Kennedy had been to him, he would probably make himself much +more disagreeable to his wife. And, for himself, he thought that he +had got out of the scrape very well by the exhibition of a little +mock anger. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX + +The Earl’s Wrath + + +The reader may remember that a rumour had been conveyed to +Phineas,--a rumour indeed which reached him from a source which he +regarded as very untrustworthy,--that Violet Effingham had quarrelled +with her lover. He would probably have paid no attention to the +rumour, beyond that which necessarily attached itself to any tidings +as to a matter so full of interest to him, had it not been repeated +to him in another quarter. “A bird has told me that your Violet +Effingham has broken with her lover,” Madame Goesler said to him one +day. “What bird?” he asked. “Ah, that I cannot tell you. But this I +will confess to you, that these birds which tell us news are seldom +very credible,--and are often not very creditable. You must take +a bird’s word for what it may be worth. It is said that they have +quarrelled. I daresay, if the truth were known, they are billing and +cooing in each other’s arms at this moment.” + +Phineas did not like to be told of their billing and cooing,--did +not like to be told even of their quarrelling. Though they were to +quarrel, it would do him no good. He would rather that nobody should +mention their names to him;--so that his back, which had been so +utterly broken, might in process of time get itself cured. From what +he knew of Violet he thought it very improbable that, even were +she to quarrel with one lover, she would at once throw herself into +the arms of another. And he did feel, too, that there would be +some meanness in taking her, were she willing to be so taken. But, +nevertheless, these rumours, coming to him in this way from different +sources, almost made it incumbent on him to find out the truth. He +began to think that his broken back was not cured;--that perhaps, +after all, it was not in the way of being cured. And was it not +possible that there might be explanations? Then he went to work +and built castles in the air, so constructed as to admit of the +possibility of Violet Effingham becoming his wife. + +This had been in April, and at that time all that he knew of Violet +was, that she was not yet in London. And he thought that he knew the +same as to Lord Chiltern. The Earl had told him that Chiltern was not +in town, nor expected in town as yet; and in saying so had seemed to +express displeasure against his son. Phineas had met Lady Baldock at +some house which he frequented, and had been quite surprised to find +himself graciously received by the old woman. She had said not a word +of Violet, but had spoken of Lord Chiltern,--mentioning his name in +bitter wrath. “But he is a friend of mine,” said Phineas, smiling. +“A friend indeed! Mr. Finn. I know what sort of a friend. I don’t +believe that you are his friend. I am afraid he is not worthy of +having any friend.” Phineas did not quite understand from this +that Lady Baldock was signifying to him that, badly as she had +thought of him as a suitor for her niece, she would have preferred +him,--especially now when people were beginning to speak well of +him,--to that terrible young man, who, from his youth upwards, had +been to her a cause of fear and trembling. Of course it was desirable +that Violet should marry an elder son, and a peer’s heir. All that +kind of thing, in Lady Baldock’s eyes, was most desirable. But, +nevertheless, anything was better than Lord Chiltern. If Violet would +not take Mr. Appledom or Lord Fawn, in heaven’s name let her take +this young man, who was kind, worthy, and steady, who was civilised +in his manners, and would no doubt be amenable in regard to +settlements. Lady Baldock had so far fallen in the world that she +would have consented to make a bargain with her niece,--almost any +bargain, so long as Lord Chiltern was excluded. Phineas did not quite +understand all this; but when Lady Baldock asked him to come to +Berkeley Square, he perceived that help was being proffered to him +where he certainly had not looked for help. + +He was frequently with Lord Brentford, who talked to him constantly +on matters connected with his parliamentary life. After having been +the intimate friend of the daughter and of the son, it now seemed +to be his lot to be the intimate friend of the father. The Earl +had constantly discussed with him his arrangements with his son, +and had lately expressed himself as only half satisfied with such +reconciliation as had taken place. And Phineas could perceive that +from day to day the Earl was less and less satisfied. He would +complain bitterly of his son,--complain of his silence, complain of +his not coming to London, complain of his conduct to Violet, complain +of his idle indifference to anything like proper occupation; but he +had never as yet said a word to show that there had been any quarrel +between Violet and her lover, and Phineas had felt that he could not +ask the question. “Mr. Finn,” said the Earl to him one morning, as +soon as he entered the room, “I have just heard a story which has +almost seemed to me to be incredible.” The nobleman’s manner was very +stern, and the fact that he called his young friend “Mr. Finn”, +showed at once that something was wrong. + +“What is it you have heard, my lord?” said Phineas. + +“That you and Chiltern went over,--last year to,--Belgium, and +fought,--a duel there!” + +Now it must have been the case that, in the set among which they +all lived,--Lord Brentford and his son and daughter and Phineas +Finn,--the old lord was the only man who had not heard of the duel +before this. It had even penetrated to the dull ears of Mr. Kennedy, +reminding him, as it did so, that his wife had,--told him a lie! But +it was the fact that no rumour of the duel had reached the Earl till +this morning. + +“It is true,” said Phineas. + +“I have never been so much shocked in my life;--never. I had no idea +that you had any thought of aspiring to the hand of Miss Effingham.” +The lord’s voice as he said this was very stern. + +“As I aspired in vain, and as Chiltern has been successful, that need +not now be made a reproach against me.” + +“I do not know what to think of it, Mr. Finn. I am so much surprised +that I hardly know what to say. I must declare my opinion at once, +that you behaved,--very badly.” + +“I do not know how much you know, my lord, and how much you do not +know; and the circumstances of the little affair do not permit me to +be explicit about them; but, as you have expressed your opinion so +openly you must allow me to express mine, and to say that, as far as +I can judge of my own actions, I did not behave badly at all.” + +“Do you intend to defend duelling, sir?” + +“No. If you mean to tell me that a duel is of itself sinful, I have +nothing to say. I suppose it is. My defence of myself merely goes to +the manner in which this duel was fought, and the fact that I fought +it with your son.” + +“I cannot conceive how you can have come to my house as my guest, +and stood upon my interest for my borough, when you at the time were +doing your very best to interpose yourself between Chiltern and the +lady whom you so well knew I wished to become his wife.” Phineas was +aware that the Earl must have been very much moved indeed when he +thus permitted himself to speak of “his” borough. He said nothing +now, however, though the Earl paused;--and then the angry lord +went on. “I must say that there was something,--something almost +approaching to duplicity in such conduct.” + +“If I were to defend myself by evidence, Lord Brentford, I should +have to go back to exact dates,--and dates not of facts which I could +verify, but dates as to my feelings which could not be verified,--and +that would be useless. I can only say that I believe I know what +the honour and truth of a gentleman demand,--even to the verge of +self-sacrifice, and that I have done nothing that ought to place my +character as a gentleman in jeopardy. If you will ask your son, I +think he will tell you the same.” + +“I have asked him. It was he who told me of the duel.” + +“When did he tell you, my lord?” + +“Just now; this morning.” Thus Phineas learned that Lord Chiltern was +at this moment in the house,--or at least in London. + +“And did he complain of my conduct?” + +“I complain of it, sir. I complain of it very bitterly. I placed the +greatest confidence in you, especially in regard to my son’s affairs, +and you deceived me.” The Earl was very angry, and was more angry +from the fact that this young man who had offended him, to whom he +had given such vital assistance when assistance was needed, had used +that assistance to its utmost before his sin was found out. Had +Phineas still been sitting for Loughton, so that the Earl could have +said to him, “You are now bound to retreat from this borough because +you have offended me, your patron,” I think that he would have +forgiven the offender and allowed him to remain in his seat. There +would have been a scene, and the Earl would have been pacified. But +now the offender was beyond his reach altogether, having used the +borough as a most convenient stepping-stone over his difficulties, +and having so used it just at the time when he was committing this +sin. There was a good fortune about Phineas which added greatly to +the lord’s wrath. And then, to tell the truth, he had not that rich +consolation for which Phineas gave him credit. Lord Chiltern had told +him that morning that the engagement between him and Violet was at an +end. “You have so preached to her, my lord, about my duties,” the son +had said to his father, “that she finds herself obliged to give me +your sermons at second hand, till I can bear them no longer.” But of +this Phineas knew nothing as yet. The Earl, however, was so imprudent +in his anger that before this interview was over he had told the +whole story. “Yes;--you deceived me,” he continued; “and I can never +trust you again.” + +“Was it for me, my lord, to tell you of that which would have +increased your anger against your own son? When he wanted me to fight +was I to come, like a sneak at school, and tell you the story? I know +what you would have thought of me had I done so. And when it was over +was I to come and tell you then? Think what you yourself would have +done when you were young, and you may be quite sure that I did the +same. What have I gained? He has got all that he wanted; and you +have also got all that you wanted;--and I have helped you both. Lord +Brentford, I can put my hand on my heart and say that I have been +honest to you.” + +“I have got nothing that I wanted,” said the Earl in his despair. + +“Lord Chiltern and Miss Effingham will be man and wife.” + +“No;--they will not. He has quarrelled with her. He is so obstinate +that she will not bear with him.” + +Then it was all true, even though the rumours had reached him through +Laurence Fitzgibbon and Madame Max Goesler. “At any rate, my lord, +that has not been my fault,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. +The Earl was walking up and down the room, angry with himself at his +own mistake in having told the story, and not knowing what further to +say to his visitor. He had been in the habit of talking so freely to +Phineas about his son that he could hardly resist the temptation of +doing so still; and yet it was impossible that he could swallow his +anger and continue in the same strain. “My lord,” said Phineas, after +a while, “I can assure you that I grieve that you should be grieved. +I have received so much undeserved favour from your family, that I +owe you a debt which I can never pay. I am sorry that you should be +angry with me now; but I hope that a time may come when you will +think less severely of my conduct.” + +He was about to leave the room when the Earl stopped him. “Will you +give me your word,” said the Earl, “that you will think no more of +Miss Effingham?” Phineas stood silent, considering how he might +answer this proposal, resolving that nothing should bring him to such +a pledge as that suggested while there was yet a ledge for hope to +stand on. “Say that, Mr. Finn, and I will forgive everything.” + +“I cannot acknowledge that I have done anything to be forgiven.” + +“Say that,” repeated the Earl, “and everything shall be forgotten.” + +“There need be no cause for alarm, my lord,” said Phineas. “You may +be sure that Miss Effingham will not think of me.” + +“Will you give me your word?” + +“No, my lord;--certainly not. You have no right to ask it, and the +pursuit is open to me as to any other man who may choose to follow +it. I have hardly a vestige of a hope of success. It is barely +possible that I should succeed. But if it be true that Miss Effingham +be disengaged, I shall endeavour to find an opportunity of urging my +suit. I would give up everything that I have, my seat in Parliament, +all the ambition of my life, for the barest chance of success. When +she had accepted your son, I desisted,--of course. I have now heard, +from more sources than one, that she or he or both of them have +changed their minds. If this be so, I am free to try again.” The +Earl stood opposite to him, scowling at him, but said nothing. “Good +morning, my lord.” + +“Good morning, sir.” + +“I am afraid it must be good-bye, for some long days to come.” + +“Good morning, sir,” And the Earl as he spoke rang the bell. Then +Phineas took up his hat and departed. + +As he walked away his mind filled itself gradually with various +ideas, all springing from the words which Lord Brentford had spoken. +What account had Lord Chiltern given to his father of the duel? Our +hero was a man very sensitive as to the good opinion of others, and +in spite of his bold assertion of his own knowledge of what became +a gentleman, was beyond measure solicitous that others should +acknowledge his claim at any rate to that title. He thought that he +had been generous to Lord Chiltern; and as he went back in his memory +over almost every word that had been spoken in the interview that had +just passed, he fancied that he was able to collect evidence that his +antagonist at Blankenberg had not spoken ill of him. As to the charge +of deceit which the Earl had made against him, he told himself that +the Earl had made it in anger. He would not even think hardly of the +Earl who had been so good a friend to him, but he believed in his +heart that the Earl had made the accusation out of his wrath and not +out of his judgment. “He cannot think that I have been false to him,” +Phineas said to himself. But it was very sad to him that he should +have to quarrel with all the family of the Standishes, as he could +not but feel that it was they who had put him on his feet. It seemed +as though he were never to see Lady Laura again except when they +chanced to meet in company,--on which occasions he simply bowed to +her. Now the Earl had almost turned him out of his house. And though +there had been to a certain extent a reconciliation between him and +Lord Chiltern, he in these days never saw the friend who had once put +him upon Bonebreaker; and now,--now that Violet Effingham was again +free,--how was it possible to avoid some renewal of enmity between +them? He would, however, endeavour to see Lord Chiltern at once. + +And then he thought of Violet,--of Violet again free, of Violet as +again a possible wife for himself, of Violet to whom he might address +himself at any rate without any scruple as to his own unworthiness. +Everybody concerned, and many who were not concerned at all, were +aware that he had been among her lovers, and he thought that he could +perceive that those who interested themselves on the subject, had +regarded him as the only horse in the race likely to run with success +against Lord Chiltern. She herself had received his offers without +scorn, and had always treated him as though he were a favoured +friend, though not favoured as a lover. And now even Lady Baldock was +smiling upon him, and asking him to her house as though the red-faced +porter in the hall in Berkeley Square had never been ordered to +refuse him a moment’s admission inside the doors. He had been very +humble in speaking of his own hopes to the Earl, but surely there +might be a chance. What if after all the little strain which he had +had in his back was to be cured after such a fashion as this! When he +got to his lodgings, he found a card from Lady Baldock, informing him +that Lady Baldock would be at home on a certain night, and that there +would be music. He could not go to Lady Baldock’s on the night named, +as it would be necessary that he should be in the House;--nor did he +much care to go there, as Violet Effingham was not in town. But he +would call and explain, and endeavour to curry favour in that way. + +He at once wrote a note to Lord Chiltern, which he addressed to +Portman Square. “As you are in town, can we not meet? Come and dine +with me at the ---- Club on Saturday.” That was the note. After a +few days he received the following answer, dated from the Bull at +Willingford. Why on earth should Chiltern be staying at the Bull at +Willingford in May? + + + The old Shop at W----, Friday. + + DEAR PHINEAS, + + I can’t dine with you, because I am down here, looking + after the cripples, and writing a sporting novel. They + tell me I ought to do something, so I am going to do that. + I hope you don’t think I turned informer against you in + telling the Earl of our pleasant little meeting on the + sands. It had become necessary, and you are too much of a + man to care much for any truth being told. He was terribly + angry both with me and with you; but the fact is, he is so + blindly unreasonable that one cannot regard his anger. I + endeavoured to tell the story truly, and, so told, it + certainly should not have injured you in his estimation. + But it did. Very sorry, old fellow, and I hope you’ll get + over it. It is a good deal more important to me than to + you. + + Yours, + + C. + + +There was not a word about Violet. But then it was hardly to be +expected that there should be words about Violet. It was not likely +that a man should write to his rival of his own failure. But yet +there was a flavour of Violet in the letter which would not have been +there, so Phineas thought, if the writer had been despondent. The +pleasant little meeting on the sands had been convened altogether in +respect of Violet. And the telling of the story to the Earl must have +arisen from discussions about Violet. Lord Chiltern must have told +his father that Phineas was his rival. Could the rejected suitor have +written on such a subject in such a strain to such a correspondent +if he had believed his own rejection to be certain? But then +Lord Chiltern was not like anybody else in the world, and it was +impossible to judge of him by one’s experience of the motives of +others. + +Shortly afterwards Phineas did call in Berkeley Square, and was shown +up at once into Lady Baldock’s drawing-room. The whole aspect of the +porter’s countenance was changed towards him, and from this, too, he +gathered good auguries. This had surprised him; but his surprise was +far greater, when, on entering the room, he found Violet Effingham +there alone. A little fresh colour came to her face as she greeted +him, though it cannot be said that she blushed. She behaved herself +admirably, not endeavouring to conceal some little emotion at thus +meeting him, but betraying none that was injurious to her composure. +“I am so glad to see you, Mr. Finn,” she said. “My aunt has just left +me, and will be back directly.” + +He was by no means her equal in his management of himself on the +occasion; but perhaps it may be acknowledged that his position +was the more difficult of the two. He had not seen her since her +engagement had been proclaimed to the world, and now he had heard +from a source which was not to be doubted, that it had been broken +off. Of course there was nothing to be said on that matter. He could +not have congratulated her in the one case, nor could he either +congratulate her or condole with her on the other. And yet he did not +know how to speak to her as though no such events had occurred. “I +did not know that you were in town,” he said. + +“I only came yesterday. I have been, you know, at Rome with the +Effinghams; and since that I have been--; but, indeed, I have been +such a vagrant that I cannot tell you of all my comings and goings. +And you,--you are hard at work!” + +“Oh yes;--always.” + +“That is right. I wish I could be something, if it were only a stick +in waiting, or a door-keeper. It is so good to be something.” Was it +some such teaching as this that had jarred against Lord Chiltern’s +susceptibilities, and had seemed to him to be a repetition of his +father’s sermons? + +“A man should try to be something,” said Phineas. + +“And a woman must be content to be nothing,--unless Mr. Mill can pull +us through! And now, tell me,--have you seen Lady Laura?” + +“Not lately.” + +“Nor Mr. Kennedy?” + +“I sometimes see him in the House.” The visit to the Colonial Office +of which the reader has been made aware had not at that time as yet +been made. + +“I am sorry for all that,” she said. Upon which Phineas smiled and +shook his head. “I am very sorry that there should be a quarrel +between you two.” + +“There is no quarrel.” + +“I used to think that you and he might do so much for each +other,--that is, of course, if you could make a friend of him.” + +“He is a man of whom it is very hard to make a friend,” said Phineas, +feeling that he was dishonest to Mr. Kennedy in saying so, but +thinking that such dishonesty was justified by what he owed to Lady +Laura. + +“Yes;--he is hard, and what I call ungenial. We won’t say anything +about him,--will we? Have you seen much of the Earl?” This she asked +as though such a question had no reference whatever to Lord Chiltern. + +“Oh dear,--alas, alas!” + +“You have not quarrelled with him too?” + +“He has quarrelled with me. He has heard, Miss Effingham, of what +happened last year, and he thinks that I was wrong.” + +“Of course you were wrong, Mr. Finn.” + +“Very likely. To him I chose to defend myself, but I certainly shall +not do so to you. At any rate, you did not think it necessary to +quarrel with me.” + +“I ought to have done so. I wonder why my aunt does not come.” Then +she rang the bell. + +“Now I have told you all about myself,” said he; “you should tell me +something of yourself.” + +“About me? I am like the knife-grinder, who had no story to +tell,--none at least to be told. We have all, no doubt, got our +little stories, interesting enough to ourselves.” + +“But your story, Miss Effingham,” he said, “is of such intense +interest to me.” At that moment, luckily, Lady Baldock came into +the room, and Phineas was saved from the necessity of making a +declaration at a moment which would have been most inopportune. + +Lady Baldock was exceedingly gracious to him, bidding Violet use her +influence to persuade him to come to the gathering. “Persuade him to +desert his work to come and hear some fiddlers!” said Miss Effingham. +“Indeed I shall not, aunt. Who can tell but what the colonies might +suffer from it through centuries, and that such a lapse of duty might +drive a province or two into the arms of our mortal enemies?” + +“Herr Moll is coming,” said Lady Baldock, “and so is Signor Scrubi, +and Pjinskt, who, they say, is the greatest man living on the +flageolet. Have you ever heard Pjinskt, Mr. Finn?” Phineas never had +heard Pjinskt. “And as for Herr Moll, there is nothing equal to him, +this year, at least.” Lady Baldock had taken up music this season, +but all her enthusiasm was unable to shake the conscientious zeal of +the young Under-Secretary of State. At such a gathering he would have +been unable to say a word in private to Violet Effingham. + + + + +CHAPTER LX + +Madame Goesler’s Politics + + +It may be remembered that when Lady Glencora Palliser was shown into +Madame Goesler’s room, Madame Goesler had just explained somewhat +forcibly to the Duke of Omnium her reasons for refusing the loan of +his Grace’s villa at Como. She had told the Duke in so many words +that she did not mean to give the world an opportunity of maligning +her, and it would then have been left to the Duke to decide whether +any other arrangements might have been made for taking Madame Goesler +to Como, had he not been interrupted. That he was very anxious to +take her was certain. The green brougham had already been often +enough at the door in Park Lane to make his Grace feel that Madame +Goesler’s company was very desirable,--was, perhaps, of all things +left for his enjoyment, the one thing the most desirable. Lady +Glencora had spoken to her husband of children crying for the top +brick of the chimney. Now it had come to this, that in the eyes +of the Duke of Omnium Marie Max Goesler was the top brick of the +chimney. She had more wit for him than other women,--more of that +sort of wit which he was capable of enjoying. She had a beauty which +he had learned to think more alluring than other beauty. He was sick +of fair faces, and fat arms, and free necks. Madame Goesler’s eyes +sparkled as other eyes did not sparkle, and there was something +of the vagueness of mystery in the very blackness and gloss and +abundance of her hair,--as though her beauty was the beauty of some +world which he had not yet known. And there was a quickness and yet +a grace of motion about her which was quite new to him. The ladies +upon whom the Duke had of late most often smiled had been somewhat +slow,--perhaps almost heavy,--though, no doubt, graceful withal. In +his early youth he remembered to have seen, somewhere in Greece, such +a houri as was this Madame Goesler. The houri in that case had run +off with the captain of a Russian vessel engaged in the tallow trade; +but not the less was there left on his Grace’s mind some dreamy +memory of charms which had impressed him very strongly when he was +simply a young Mr. Palliser, and had had at his command not so +convenient a mode of sudden abduction as the Russian captain’s tallow +ship. Pressed hard by such circumstances as these, there is no +knowing how the Duke might have got out of his difficulties had not +Lady Glencora appeared upon the scene. + +Since the future little Lord Silverbridge had been born, the Duke had +been very constant in his worship of Lady Glencora, and as, from year +to year, a little brother was added, thus making the family very +strong and stable, his acts of worship had increased; but with his +worship there had come of late something almost of dread,--something +almost of obedience, which had made those who were immediately +about the Duke declare that his Grace was a good deal changed. For, +hitherto, whatever may have been the Duke’s weaknesses, he certainly +had known no master. His heir, Plantagenet Palliser, had been always +subject to him. His other relations had been kept at such a distance +as hardly to be more than recognised; and though his Grace no +doubt had had his intimacies, they who had been intimate with him +had either never tried to obtain ascendancy, or had failed. Lady +Glencora, whether with or without a struggle, had succeeded, and +people about the Duke said that the Duke was much changed. Mr. +Fothergill,--who was his Grace’s man of business, and who was not +a favourite with Lady Glencora,--said that he was very much changed +indeed. Finding his Grace so much changed, Mr. Fothergill had made +a little attempt at dictation himself, but had receded with fingers +very much scorched in the attempt. It was indeed possible that the +Duke was becoming in the slightest degree weary of Lady Glencora’s +thraldom, and that he thought that Madame Max Goesler might be more +tender with him. Madame Max Goesler, however, intended to be tender +only on one condition. + +When Lady Glencora entered the room, Madame Goesler received her +beautifully. “How lucky that you should have come just when his Grace +is here!” she said. + +“I saw my uncle’s carriage, and of course I knew it,” said Lady +Glencora. + +“Then the favour is to him,” said Madame Goesler, smiling. + +“No, indeed; I was coming. If my word is to be doubted in that point, +I must insist on having the servant up; I must, certainly. I told +him to drive to this door, as far back as Grosvenor Street. Did I +not, Planty?” Planty was the little Lord Silverbridge as was to +be, if nothing unfortunate intervened, who was now sitting on his +granduncle’s knee. + +“Dou said to the little house in Park Lane,” said the boy. + +“Yes,--because I forgot the number.” + +“And it is the smallest house in Park Lane, so the evidence is +complete,” said Madame Goesler. Lady Glencora had not cared much for +evidence to convince Madame Goesler, but she had not wished her uncle +to think that he was watched and hunted down. It might be necessary +that he should know that he was watched, but things had not come to +that as yet. + +“How is Plantagenet?” asked the Duke. + +“Answer for papa,” said Lady Glencora to her child. + +“Papa is very well, but he almost never comes home.” + +“He is working for his country,” said the Duke. “Your papa is a busy, +useful man, and can’t afford time to play with a little boy as I +can.” + +“But papa is not a duke.” + +“He will be some day, and that probably before long, my boy. He will +be a duke quite as soon as he wants to be a duke. He likes the House +of Commons better than the strawberry leaves, I fancy. There is not a +man in England less in a hurry than he is.” + +“No, indeed,” said Lady Glencora. + +“How nice that is,” said Madame Goesler. + +“And I ain’t in a hurry either,--am I, mamma?” said the little future +Lord Silverbridge. + +“You are a wicked little monkey,” said his grand-uncle, kissing him. +At this moment Lady Glencora was, no doubt, thinking how necessary +it was that she should be careful to see that things did turn out +in the manner proposed,--so that people who had waited should not +be disappointed; and the Duke was perhaps thinking that he was not +absolutely bound to his nephew by any law of God or man; and Madame +Max Goesler,--I wonder whether her thoughts were injurious to the +prospects of that handsome bold-faced little boy. + +Lady Glencora rose to take her leave first. It was not for her to +show any anxiety to force the Duke out of the lady’s presence. If the +Duke were resolved to make a fool of himself, nothing that she could +do would prevent it. But she thought that this little inspection +might possibly be of service, and that her uncle’s ardour would +be cooled by the interruption to which he had been subjected. So +she went, and immediately afterwards the Duke followed her. The +interruption had, at any rate, saved him on that occasion from making +the highest bid for the pleasure of Madame Goesler’s company at Como. +The Duke went down with the little boy in his hand, so that there +was not an opportunity for a single word of interest between the +gentleman and the lady. + +Madame Goesler, when she was alone, seated herself on her sofa, +tucking her feet up under her as though she were seated somewhere in +the East, pushed her ringlets back roughly from her face, and then +placed her two hands to her sides so that her thumbs rested lightly +on her girdle. When alone with something weighty on her mind she +would sit in this form for the hour together, resolving, or trying +to resolve, what should be her conduct. She did few things without +much thinking, and though she walked very boldly, she walked warily. +She often told herself that such success as she had achieved could +not have been achieved without much caution. And yet she was ever +discontented with herself, telling herself that all that she had done +was nothing, or worse than nothing. What was it all, to have a duke +and to have lords dining with her, to dine with lords or with a duke +itself, if life were dull with her, and the hours hung heavy! Life +with her was dull, and the hours did hang heavy. And what if she +caught this old man, and became herself a duchess,--caught him by +means of his weakness, to the inexpressible dismay of all those +who were bound to him by ties of blood,--would that make her life +happier, or her hours less tedious? That prospect of a life on the +Italian lakes with an old man tied to her side was not so charming in +her eyes as it was in those of the Duke. Were she to succeed, and to +be blazoned forth to the world as Duchess of Omnium, what would she +have gained? + +She perfectly understood the motive of Lady Glencora’s visit, and +thought that she would at any rate gain something in the very triumph +of baffling the manoeuvres of so clever a woman. Let Lady Glencora +throw her ægis before the Duke, and it would be something to carry +off his Grace from beneath the protection of so thick a shield. The +very flavour of the contest was pleasing to Madame Goesler. But, the +victory gained, what then would remain to her? Money she had already; +position, too, she had of her own. She was free as air, and should it +suit her at any time to go off to some lake of Como in society that +would personally be more agreeable to her than that of the Duke of +Omnium, there was nothing to hinder her for a moment. And then came a +smile over her face,--but the saddest smile,--as she thought of one +with whom it might be pleasant to look at the colour of Italian skies +and feel the softness of Italian breezes. In feigning to like to do +this with an old man, in acting the raptures of love on behalf of a +worn-out duke who at the best would scarce believe in her acting, +there would not be much delight for her. She had never yet known what +it was to have anything of the pleasure of love. She had grown, as +she often told herself, to be a hard, cautious, selfish, successful +woman, without any interference or assistance from such pleasure. +Might there not be yet time left for her to try it without +selfishness,--with an absolute devotion of self,--if only she +could find the right companion? There was one who might be such a +companion, but the Duke of Omnium certainly could not be such a one. + +But to be Duchess of Omnium! After all, success in this world is +everything;--is at any rate the only thing the pleasure of which will +endure. There was the name of many a woman written in a black list +within Madame Goesler’s breast,--written there because of scorn, +because of rejected overtures, because of deep social injury; and +Madame Goesler told herself often that it would be a pleasure to her +to use the list, and to be revenged on those who had ill-used and +scornfully treated her. She did not readily forgive those who had +injured her. As Duchess of Omnium she thought that probably she might +use that list with efficacy. Lady Glencora had treated her well, and +she had no such feeling against Lady Glencora. As Duchess of Omnium +she would accept Lady Glencora as her dearest friend, if Lady +Glencora would admit it. But if it should be necessary that there +should be a little duel between them, as to which of them should take +the Duke in hand, the duel must of course be fought. In a matter so +important, one woman would of course expect no false sentiment from +another. She and Lady Glencora would understand each other;--and no +doubt, respect each other. + +I have said that she would sit there resolving, or trying to resolve. +There is nothing in the world so difficult as that task of making +up one’s mind. Who is there that has not longed that the power and +privilege of selection among alternatives should be taken away from +him in some important crisis of his life, and that his conduct should +be arranged for him, either this way or that, by some divine power +if it were possible,--by some patriarchal power in the absence of +divinity,--or by chance even, if nothing better than chance could be +found to do it? But no one dares to cast the die, and to go honestly +by the hazard. There must be the actual necessity of obeying the die, +before even the die can be of any use. As it was, when Madame Goesler +had sat there for an hour, till her legs were tired beneath her, she +had not resolved. It must be as her impulse should direct her when +the important moment came. There was not a soul on earth to whom she +could go for counsel, and when she asked herself for counsel, the +counsel would not come. + +Two days afterwards the Duke called again. He would come generally on +a Thursday,--early, so that he might be there before other visitors; +and he had already quite learned that when he was there other +visitors would probably be refused admittance. How Lady Glencora had +made her way in, telling the servant that her uncle was there, he had +not understood. That visit had been made on the Thursday, but now he +came on the Saturday,--having, I regret to say, sent down some early +fruit from his own hot-houses,--or from Covent Garden,--with a little +note on the previous day. The grapes might have been pretty well, but +the note was injudicious. There were three lines about the grapes, as +to which there was some special history, the vine having been brought +from the garden of some villa in which some ill-used queen had lived +and died; and then there was a postscript in one line to say that the +Duke would call on the following morning. I do not think that he had +meant to add this when he began his note; but then children, who want +the top brick, want it so badly, and cry for it so perversely! + +Of course Madame Goesler was at home. But even then she had not made +up her mind. She had made up her mind only to this,--that he should +be made to speak plainly, and that she would take time for her reply. +Not even with such a gem as the Duke’s coronet before her eyes, would +she jump at it. Where there was so much doubt, there need at least be +no impatience. + +“You ran away the other day, Duke, because you could not resist the +charm of that little boy,” she said, laughing. + +“He is a dear little boy,--but it was not that,” he answered. + +“Then what was it? Your niece carried you off in a whirl-wind. She +was come and gone, taking you with her, in half a minute.” + +“She had disturbed me when I was thinking of something,” said the +Duke. + +“Things shouldn’t be thought of,--not so deeply as that.” Madame +Goesler was playing with a bunch of his grapes now, eating one or +two from a small china plate which had stood upon the table, and +he thought that he had never seen a woman so graceful and yet +so natural. “Will you not eat your own grapes with me? They are +delicious;--flavoured with the poor queen’s sorrows.” He shook his +head, knowing that it did not suit his gastric juices to have to deal +with fruit eaten at odd times. “Never think, Duke. I am convinced +that it does no good. It simply means doubting, and doubt always +leads to error. The safest way in the world is to do nothing.” + +“I believe so,” said the Duke. + +“Much the safest. But if you have not sufficient command over +yourself to enable you to sit in repose, always quiet, never +committing yourself to the chance of any danger,--then take a leap in +the dark; or rather many leaps. A stumbling horse regains his footing +by persevering in his onward course. As for moving cautiously, that I +detest.” + +“And yet one must think;--for instance, whether one will succeed or +not.” + +“Take that for granted always. Remember, I do not recommend motion at +all. Repose is my idea of life;--repose and grapes.” + +The Duke sat for a while silent, taking his repose as far as the +outer man was concerned, looking at his top brick of the chimney, as +from time to time she ate one of his grapes. Probably she did not eat +above half-a-dozen of them altogether, but he thought that the grapes +must have been made for the woman, she was so pretty in the eating of +them. But it was necessary that he should speak at last. “Have you +been thinking of coming to Como?” he said. + +“I told you that I never think.” + +“But I want an answer to my proposition.” + +“I thought I had answered your Grace on that question.” Then she put +down the grapes, and moved herself on her chair, so that she sat with +her face turned away from him. + +“But a request to a lady may be made twice.” + +“Oh, yes. And I am grateful, knowing how far it is from your +intention to do me any harm. And I am somewhat ashamed of my warmth +on the other day. But still there can be but one answer. There +are delights which a woman must deny herself, let them be ever so +delightful.” + +“I had thought,--” the Duke began, and then he stopped himself. + +“Your Grace was saying that you thought,--” + +“Marie, a man at my age does not like to be denied.” + +“What man likes to be denied anything by a woman at any age? A woman +who denies anything is called cruel at once,--even though it be +her very soul.” She had turned round upon him now, and was leaning +forward towards him from her chair, so that he could touch her if he +put out his hand. + +He put out his hand and touched her. “Marie,” he said, “will you deny +me if I ask?” + +“Nay, my lord; how shall I say? There is many a trifle I would deny +you. There is many a great gift I would give you willingly.” + +“But the greatest gift of all?” + +“My lord, if you have anything to say, you must say it plainly. There +never was a woman worse than I am at the reading of riddles.” + +“Could you endure to live in the quietude of an Italian lake with an +old man?” Now he touched her again, and had taken her hand. + +“No, my lord;--nor with a young one,--for all my days. But I do not +know that age would guide me.” + +Then the Duke rose and made his proposition in form. “Marie, you know +that I love you. Why it is that I at my age should feel so sore a +love, I cannot say.” + +“So sore a love!” + +“So sore, if it be not gratified. Marie, I ask you to be my wife.” + +“Duke of Omnium, this from you!” + +“Yes, from me. My coronet is at your feet. If you will allow me to +raise it, I will place it on your brow.” + +Then she went away from him, and seated herself at a distance. After +a moment or two he followed her, and stood with his arm upon her +shoulder. “You will give me an answer, Marie?” + +“You cannot have thought of this, my lord.” + +“Nay; I have thought of it much.” + +“And your friends?” + +“My dear, I may venture to please myself in this,--as in everything. +Will you not answer me?” + +“Certainly not on the spur of the moment, my lord. Think how high is +the position you offer me, and how immense is the change you propose +to me. Allow me two days, and I will answer you by letter. I am so +fluttered now that I must leave you.” Then he came to her, took her +hand, kissed her brow, and opened the door for her. + + + + +CHAPTER LXI + +Another Duel + + +It happened that there were at this time certain matters of business +to be settled between the Duke of Omnium and his nephew Mr. Palliser, +respecting which the latter called upon his uncle on the morning +after the Duke had committed himself by his offer. Mr. Palliser had +come by appointment made with Mr. Fothergill, the Duke’s man of +business, and had expected to meet Mr. Fothergill. Mr. Fothergill, +however, was not with the Duke, and the uncle told the nephew that +the business had been postponed. Then Mr. Palliser asked some +question as to the reason of such postponement, not meaning much by +his question,--and the Duke, after a moment’s hesitation, answered +him, meaning very much by his answer. “The truth is, Plantagenet, +that it is possible that I may marry, and if so this arrangement +would not suit me.” + +“Are you going to be married?” asked the astonished nephew. + +“It is not exactly that,--but it is possible that I may do so. Since +I proposed this matter to Fothergill, I have been thinking over it, +and I have changed my mind. It will make but little difference to +you; and after all you are a far richer man than I am.” + +“I am not thinking of money, Duke,” said Plantagenet Palliser. + +“Of what then were you thinking?” + +“Simply of what you told me. I do not in the least mean to +interfere.” + +“I hope not, Plantagenet.” + +“But I could not hear such a statement from you without some +surprise. Whatever you do I hope will tend to make you happy.” + +So much passed between the uncle and the nephew, and what the uncle +told to the nephew, the nephew of course told to his wife. “He was +with her again, yesterday,” said Lady Glencora, “for more than an +hour. And he had been half the morning dressing himself before he +went to her.” + +“He is not engaged to her, or he would have told me,” said +Plantagenet Palliser. + +“I think he would, but there is no knowing. At the present moment I +have only one doubt,--whether to act upon him or upon her.” + +“I do not see that you can do good by going to either.” + +“Well, we will see. If she be the woman I take her to be, I think I +could do something with her. I have never supposed her to be a bad +woman,--never. I will think of it.” Then Lady Glencora left her +husband, and did not consult him afterwards as to the course she +would pursue. He had his budget to manage, and his speeches to make. +The little affair of the Duke and Madame Goesler, she thought it best +to take into her own hands without any assistance from him. “What a +fool I was,” she said to herself, “to have her down there when the +Duke was at Matching!” + +Madame Goesler, when she was left alone, felt that now indeed she +must make up her mind. She had asked for two days. The intervening +day was a Sunday, and on the Monday she must send her answer. She +might doubt at any rate for this one night,--the Saturday night,--and +sit playing, as it were, with the coronet of a duchess in her lap. +She had been born the daughter of a small country attorney, and now a +duke had asked her to be his wife,--and a duke who was acknowledged +to stand above other dukes! Nothing at any rate could rob her of that +satisfaction. Whatever resolution she might form at last, she had by +her own resources reached a point of success in remembering which +there would always be a keen gratification. It would be much to be +Duchess of Omnium; but it would be something also to have refused to +be a Duchess of Omnium. During that evening, that night, and the next +morning, she remained playing with the coronet in her lap. She would +not go to church. What good could any sermon do her while that bauble +was dangling before her eyes? After church-time, about two o’clock, +Phineas Finn came to her. Just at this period Phineas would come +to her often;--sometimes full of a new decision to forget Violet +Effingham altogether, at others minded to continue his siege let the +hope of success be ever so small. He had now heard that Violet and +Lord Chiltern had in truth quarrelled, and was of course anxious to +be advised to continue the siege. When he first came in and spoke a +word or two, in which there was no reference to Violet Effingham, +there came upon Madame Goesler a strong wish to decide at once that +she would play no longer with the coronet, that the gem was not worth +the cost she would be called upon to pay for it. There was something +in the world better for her than the coronet,--if only it might be +had. But within ten minutes he had told her the whole tale about Lord +Chiltern, and how he had seen Violet at Lady Baldock’s,--and how +there might yet be hope for him. What would she advise him to do? “Go +home, Mr. Finn,” she said, “and write a sonnet to her eyebrow. See if +that will have any effect.” + +“Ah, well! It is natural that you should laugh at me; but somehow, I +did not expect it from you.” + +“Do not be angry with me. What I mean is that such little things seem +to influence this Violet of yours.” + +“Do they? I have not found that they do so.” + +“If she had loved Lord Chiltern she would not have quarrelled with +him for a few words. If she had loved you, she would not have +accepted Lord Chiltern. If she loves neither of you, she should say +so. I am losing my respect for her.” + +“Do not say that, Madame Goesler. I respect her as strongly as I love +her.” Then Madame Goesler almost made up her mind that she would have +the coronet. There was a substance about the coronet that would not +elude her grasp. + +Late that afternoon, while she was still hesitating, there came +another caller to the cottage in Park Lane. She was still hesitating, +feeling that she had as yet another night before her. Should she be +Duchess of Omnium or not? All that she wished to be, she could not +be;--but to be Duchess of Omnium was within her reach. Then she began +to ask herself various questions. Would the Queen refuse to accept +her in her new rank? Refuse! How could any Queen refuse to accept +her? She had not done aught amiss in life. There was no slur on her +name; no stain on her character. What though her father had been a +small attorney, and her first husband a Jew banker! She had broken +no law of God or man, had been accused of breaking no law, which +breaking or which accusation need stand in the way of her being as +good a duchess as any other woman! She was sitting thinking of this, +almost angry with herself at the awe with which the proposed rank +inspired her, when Lady Glencora was announced to her. + +“Madame Goesler,” said Lady Glencora, “I am very glad to find you.” + +“And I more than equally so, to be found,” said Madame Goesler, +smiling with all her grace. + +“My uncle has been with you since I saw you last?” + +“Oh yes;--more than once if I remember right. He was here yesterday +at any rate.” + +“He comes often to you then?” + +“Not so often as I would wish, Lady Glencora. The Duke is one of my +dearest friends.” + +“It has been a quick friendship.” + +“Yes;--a quick friendship,” said Madame Goesler. Then there was a +pause for some moments which Madame Goesler was determined that she +would not break. It was clear to her now on what ground Lady Glencora +had come to her, and she was fully minded that if she could bear the +full light of the god himself in all his glory, she would not allow +herself to be scorched by any reflected heat coming from the god’s +niece. She thought she could endure anything that Lady Glencora might +say; but she would wait and hear what might be said. + +“I think, Madame Goesler, that I had better hurry on to my subject +at once,” said Lady Glencora, almost hesitating as she spoke, and +feeling that the colour was rushing up to her cheeks and covering her +brow. “Of course what I have to say will be disagreeable. Of course I +shall offend you. And yet I do not mean it.” + +“I shall be offended at nothing, Lady Glencora, unless I think that +you mean to offend me.” + +“I protest that I do not. You have seen my little boy.” + +“Yes, indeed. The sweetest child! God never gave me anything half so +precious as that.” + +“He is the Duke’s heir.” + +“So I understand.” + +“For myself, by my honour as a woman, I care nothing. I am rich and +have all that the world can give me. For my husband, in this matter, +I care nothing. His career he will make for himself, and it will +depend on no title.” + +“Why all this to me, Lady Glencora? What have I to do with your +husband’s titles?” + +“Much;--if it be true that there is an idea of marriage between you +and the Duke of Omnium.” + +“Psha!” said Madame Goesler, with all the scorn of which she was +mistress. + +“It is untrue, then?” asked Lady Glencora. + +“No;--it is not untrue. There is an idea of such a marriage.” + +“And you are engaged to him?” + +“No;--I am not engaged to him.” + +“Has he asked you?” + +“Lady Glencora, I really must say that such a cross-questioning +from one lady to another is very unusual. I have promised not to be +offended, unless I thought that you wished to offend me. But do not +drive me too far.” + +“Madame Goesler, if you will tell me that I am mistaken, I will beg +your pardon, and offer to you the most sincere friendship which one +woman can give another.” + +“Lady Glencora, I can tell you nothing of the kind.” + +“Then it is to be so! And have you thought what you would gain?” + +“I have thought much of what I should gain:--and something also of +what I should lose.” + +“You have money.” + +“Yes, indeed; plenty,--for wants so moderate as mine.” + +“And position.” + +“Well, yes; a sort of position. Not such as yours, Lady Glencora. +That, if it be not born to a woman, can only come to her from a +husband. She cannot win it for herself.” + +“You are free as air, going where you like, and doing what you like.” + +“Too free, sometimes,” said Madame Goesler. + +“And what will you gain by changing all this simply for a title?” + +“But for such a title, Lady Glencora! It may be little to you to be +Duchess of Omnium, but think what it must be to me!” + +“And for this you will not hesitate to rob him of all his friends, to +embitter his future life, to degrade him among his peers,--” + +“Degrade him! Who dares say that I shall degrade him? He will exalt +me, but I shall no whit degrade him. You forget yourself, Lady +Glencora.” + +“Ask any one. It is not that I despise you. If I did, would I offer +you my hand in friendship? But an old man, over seventy, carrying the +weight and burden of such rank as his, will degrade himself in the +eyes of his fellows, if he marries a young woman without rank, let +her be ever so clever, ever so beautiful. A Duke of Omnium may not do +as he pleases, as may another man.” + +“It may be well, Lady Glencora, for other dukes, and for the +daughters and heirs and cousins of other dukes, that his Grace should +try that question. I will, if you wish it, argue this matter with you +on many points, but I will not allow you to say that I should degrade +any man whom I might marry. My name is as unstained as your own.” + +“I meant nothing of that,” said Lady Glencora. + +“For him;--I certainly would not willingly injure him. Who wishes +to injure a friend? And, in truth, I have so little to gain, that +the temptation to do him an injury, if I thought it one, is not +strong. For your little boy, Lady Glencora, I think your fears are +premature.” As she said this, there came a smile over her face, which +threatened to break from control and almost become laughter. “But, if +you will allow me to say so, my mind will not be turned against this +marriage half so strongly by any arguments you can use as by those +which I can adduce myself. You have nearly driven me into it by +telling me I should degrade his house. It is almost incumbent on me +to prove that you are wrong. But you had better leave me to settle +the matter in my own bosom. You had indeed.” + +After a while Lady Glencora did leave her,--to settle the matter +within her own bosom,--having no other alternative. + + + + +CHAPTER LXII + +The Letter That Was Sent to Brighton + + +Monday morning came and Madame Goesler had as yet written no answer +to the Duke of Omnium. Had not Lady Glencora gone to Park Lane on +the Sunday afternoon, I think the letter would have been written on +that day; but, whatever may have been the effect of Lady Glencora’s +visit, it so far disturbed Madame Goesler as to keep her from her +writing-table. There was yet another night for thought, and then the +letter should be written on the Monday morning. + +When Lady Glencora left Madame Goesler she went at once to the Duke’s +house. It was her custom to see her husband’s uncle on a Sunday, and +she would most frequently find him just at this hour,--before he went +up-stairs to dress for dinner. She usually took her boy with her, but +on this occasion she went alone. She had tried what she could do with +Madame Goesler, and she found that she had failed. She must now make +her attempt upon the Duke. But the Duke, perhaps anticipating some +attack of the kind, had fled. “Where is his Grace, Barker?” said Lady +Glencora to the porter. “We do not know, your ladyship. His Grace +went away yesterday evening with nobody but Lapoule.” Lapoule was +the Duke’s French valet. Lady Glencora could only return home and +consider in her own mind what batteries might yet be brought to +bear upon the Duke, towards stopping the marriage, even after the +engagement should have been made,--if it were to be made. Lady +Glencora felt that such batteries might still be brought up as would +not improbably have an effect on a proud, weak old man. If all other +resources failed, royalty in some of its branches might be induced +to make a request, and every august relation in the peerage should +interfere. The Duke no doubt might persevere and marry whom he +pleased,--if he were strong enough. But it requires much personal +strength,--that standing alone against the well-armed batteries of +all one’s friends. Lady Glencora had once tried such a battle on +her own behalf, and had failed. She had wished to be imprudent when +she was young; but her friends had been too strong for her. She had +been reduced, and kept in order, and made to run in a groove,--and +was now, when she sat looking at her little boy with his bold face, +almost inclined to think that the world was right, and that grooves +were best. But if she had been controlled when she was young, so +ought the Duke to be controlled now that he was old. It is all very +well for a man or woman to boast that he,--or she,--may do what he +likes with his own,--or with her own. But there are circumstances in +which such self-action is ruinous to so many that coercion from the +outside becomes absolutely needed. Nobody had felt the injustice of +such coercion when applied to herself more sharply than had Lady +Glencora. But she had lived to acknowledge that such coercion might +be proper, and was now prepared to use it in any shape in which it +might be made available. It was all very well for Madame Goesler +to laugh and exclaim, “Psha!” when Lady Glencora declared her real +trouble. But should it ever come to pass that a black-browed baby +with a yellow skin should be shown to the world as Lord Silverbridge, +Lady Glencora knew that her peace of mind would be gone for ever. She +had begun the world desiring one thing, and had missed it. She had +suffered much, and had then reconciled herself to other hopes. If +those other hopes were also to be cut away from her, the world would +not be worth a pinch of snuff to her. The Duke had fled, and she +could do nothing to-day; but to-morrow she would begin with her +batteries. And she herself had done the mischief! She had invited +this woman down to Matching! Heaven and earth!--that such a man as +the Duke should be such a fool!--The widow of a Jew banker! He, the +Duke of Omnium,--and thus to cut away from himself, for the rest of +his life, all honour, all peace of mind, all the grace of a noble +end to a career which, if not very noble in itself, had received +the praise of nobility! And to do this for a thin, black-browed, +yellow-visaged woman with ringlets and devil’s eyes, and a beard on +her upper lip,--a Jewess,--a creature of whose habits of life and +manners of thought they all were absolutely ignorant; who drank, +possibly; who might have been a forger, for what any one knew; +an adventuress who had found her way into society by her art and +perseverance,--and who did not even pretend to have a relation in +the world! That such a one should have influence enough to intrude +herself into the house of Omnium, and blot the scutcheon, and,-- +what was worst of all,--perhaps be the mother of future dukes! Lady +Glencora, in her anger, was very unjust to Madame Goesler, thinking +all evil of her, accusing her in her mind of every crime, denying +her all charm, all beauty. Had the Duke forgotten himself and his +position for the sake of some fair girl with a pink complexion and +grey eyes, and smooth hair, and a father, Lady Glencora thought that +she would have forgiven it better. It might be that Madame Goesler +would win her way to the coronet; but when she came to put it on, she +should find that there were sharp thorns inside the lining of it. Not +a woman worth the knowing in all London should speak to her;--nor a +man either of those men with whom a Duchess of Omnium would wish to +hold converse. She should find her husband rated as a doting fool, +and herself rated as a scheming female adventuress. And it should go +hard with Lady Glencora, if the Duke were not separated from his new +Duchess before the end of the first year! In her anger Lady Glencora +was very unjust. + +The Duke, when he left his house without telling his household +whither he was going, did send his address to,--the top brick of the +chimney. His note, which was delivered at Madame Goesler’s house late +on the Sunday evening, was as follows:--“I am to have your answer on +Monday. I shall be at Brighton. Send it by a private messenger to the +Bedford Hotel there. I need not tell you with what expectation, with +what hope, with what fear I shall await it.--O.” Poor old man! He had +run through all the pleasures of life too quickly, and had not much +left with which to amuse himself. At length he had set his eyes on a +top brick, and being tired of everything else, wanted it very sorely. +Poor old man! How should it do him any good, even if he got it? +Madame Goesler, when she received the note, sat with it in her +hand, thinking of his great want. “And he would be tired of his new +plaything after a month,” she said to herself. But she had given +herself to the next morning, and she would not make up her mind that +night. She would sleep once more with the coronet of a duchess within +her reach. She did do so; and woke in the morning with her mind +absolutely in doubt. When she walked down to breakfast, all doubt was +at an end. The time had come when it was necessary that she should +resolve, and while her maid was brushing her hair for her she did +make her resolution. + +“What a thing it is to be a great lady,” said the maid, who may +probably have reflected that the Duke of Omnium did not come here so +often for nothing. + +“What do you mean by that, Lotta?” + +“The women I know, madame, talk so much of their countesses, and +ladyships, and duchesses. I would never rest till I had a title in +this country, if I were a lady,--and rich and beautiful.” + +“And can the countesses, and the ladyships, and the duchesses do as +they please?” + +“Ah, madame;--I know not that.” + +“But I know. That will do, Lotta. Now leave me.” Then Madame Goesler +had made up her mind; but I do not know whether that doubt as to +having her own way had much to do with it. As the wife of an old man +she would probably have had much of her own way. Immediately after +breakfast she wrote her answer to the Duke, which was as follows:-- + + + Park Lane, Monday. + + MY DEAR DUKE OF OMNIUM, + + I find so great a difficulty in expressing myself to your + Grace in a written letter, that since you left me I have + never ceased to wish that I had been less nervous, less + doubting, and less foolish when you were present with me + here in my room. I might then have said in one word what + will take so many awkward words to explain. + + Great as is the honour you propose to confer on me, rich + as is the gift you offer me, I cannot accept it. I cannot + be your Grace’s wife. I may almost say that I knew it + was so when you parted from me; but the surprise of the + situation took away from me a part of my judgment, and + made me unable to answer you as I should have done. My + lord, the truth is, that I am not fit to be the wife of + the Duke of Omnium. I should injure you; and though I + should raise myself in name, I should injure myself in + character. But you must not think, because I say this, + that there is any reason why I should not be an honest + man’s wife. There is none. I have nothing on my conscience + which I could not tell you,--or to another man; nothing + that I need fear to tell to all the world. Indeed, my + lord, there is nothing to tell but this,--that I am not + fitted by birth and position to be the wife of the Duke of + Omnium. You would have to blush for me, and that no man + shall ever have to do on my account. + + I will own that I have been ambitious, too ambitious, and + have been pleased to think that one so exalted as you are, + one whose high position is so rife in the eyes of all men, + should have taken pleasure in my company. I will confess + to a foolish woman’s silly vanity in having wished to be + known to be the friend of the Duke of Omnium. I am like + the other moths that flutter near the light and have their + wings burned. But I am wiser than they in this, that + having been scorched, I know that I must keep my distance. + You will easily believe that a woman, such as I am, does + not refuse to ride in a carriage with your Grace’s arms on + the panels without a regret. I am no philosopher. I do not + pretend to despise the rich things of the world, or the + high things. According to my way of thinking a woman ought + to wish to be Duchess of Omnium;--but she ought to wish + also to be able to carry her coronet with a proper grace. + As Madame Goesler I can live, even among my superiors, at + my ease. As your Grace’s wife, I should be easy no longer; + --nor would your Grace. + + You will think perhaps that what I write is heartless, + that I speak altogether of your rank, and not at all of + the affection you have shown me, or of that which I might + possibly bear towards you. I think that when the first + flush of passion is over in early youth men and women + should strive to regulate their love, as they do their + other desires, by their reason. I could love your Grace, + fondly, as your wife, if I thought it well for your Grace + or for myself that we should be man and wife. As I think + it would be ill for both of us, I will restrain that + feeling, and remember your Grace ever with the purest + feeling of true friendship. + + Before I close this letter, I must utter a word of + gratitude. In the kind of life which I have led as a + widow, a life which has been very isolated as regards + true fellowship, it has been my greatest effort to obtain + the good opinion of those among whom I have attempted to + make my way. I may, perhaps, own to you now that I have + had many difficulties. A woman who is alone in the world + is ever regarded with suspicion. In this country a woman + with a foreign name, with means derived from foreign + sources, with a foreign history, is specially suspected. + I have striven to live that down, and I have succeeded. + But in my wildest dreams I never dreamed of such success + as this,--that the Duke of Omnium should think me the + worthiest of the worthy. You may be sure that I am not + ungrateful,--that I never will be ungrateful. And I trust + it will not derogate from your opinion of my worth, that + I have known what was due to your Grace’s highness. + + I have the honour to be, + My Lord Duke, + Your most obliged and faithful servant, + + MARIE MAX GOESLER. + + +“How many unmarried women in England are there would do the same?” +she said to herself, as she folded the paper, and put it into an +envelope, and sealed the cover. The moment that the letter was +completed she sent it off, as she was directed to send it, so +that there might be no possibility of repentance and subsequent +hesitation. She had at last made up her mind, and she would stand +by the making. She knew that there would come moments in which she +would deeply regret the opportunity that she had lost,--the chance +of greatness that she had flung away from her. But so would she +have often regretted it, also, had she accepted the greatness. Her +position was one in which there must be regret, let her decision have +been what it might. But she had decided, and the thing was done. She +would still be free,--Marie Max Goesler,--unless in abandoning her +freedom she would obtain something that she might in truth prefer to +it. When the letter was gone she sat disconsolate, at the window of +an up-stairs room in which she had written, thinking much of the +coronet, much of the name, much of the rank, much of that position +in society which she had flattered herself she might have won for +herself as Duchess of Omnium by her beauty, her grace, and her wit. +It had not been simply her ambition to be a duchess, without further +aim or object. She had fancied that she might have been such a +duchess as there is never another, so that her fame might have been +great throughout Europe, as a woman charming at all points. And she +would have had friends, then,--real friends, and would not have lived +alone as it was now her fate to do. And she would have loved her +ducal husband, old though he was, and stiff with pomp and ceremony. +She would have loved him, and done her best to add something of +brightness to his life. It was indeed true that there was one whom +she loved better; but of what avail was it to love a man who, when he +came to her, would speak to her of nothing but of the charms which he +found in another woman! + +She had been sitting thus at her window, with a book in her hand, at +which she never looked, gazing over the park which was now beautiful +with its May verdure, when on a sudden a thought struck her. Lady +Glencora Palliser had come to her, trying to enlist her sympathy for +the little heir, behaving, indeed, not very well, as Madame Goesler +had thought, but still with an earnest purpose which was in itself +good. She would write to Lady Glencora and put her out of her misery. +Perhaps there was some feeling of triumph in her mind as she returned +to the desk from which her epistle had been sent to the Duke;--not of +that triumph which would have found its gratification in boasting of +the offer that had been made to her, but arising from a feeling that +she could now show the proud mother of the bold-faced boy that though +she would not pledge herself to any woman as to what she might do or +not do, she was nevertheless capable of resisting such a temptation +as would have been irresistible to many. Of the Duke’s offer to her +she would have spoken to no human being, had not this woman shown +that the Duke’s purpose was known at least to her, and now, in her +letter, she would write no plain word of that offer. She would not +state, in words intelligible to any one who might read, that the Duke +had offered her his hand and his coronet. But she would write so that +Lady Glencora should understand her. And she would be careful that +there should be no word in the letter to make Lady Glencora think +that she supposed herself to be unfit for the rank offered to her. +She had been very humble in what she had written to the Duke, but +she would not be at all humble in what she was about to write to the +mother of the bold-faced boy. And this was the letter when it was +written:-- + + + MY DEAR LADY GLENCORA, + + I venture to send you a line to put you out of your + misery;--for you were very miserable when you were so good + as to come here yesterday. Your dear little boy is safe + from me;--and, what is more to the purpose, so are you and + your husband,--and your uncle, whom, in truth, I love. You + asked me a downright question which I did not then choose + to answer by a downright answer. The downright answer was + not at that time due to you. It has since been given, and + as I like you too well to wish you to be in torment, I + send you a line to say that I shall never be in the way of + you or your boy. + + And now, dear Lady Glencora, one word more. Should it + ever again appear to you to be necessary to use your zeal + for the protection of your husband or your child, do not + endeavour to dissuade a woman by trying to make her think + that she, by her alliance, would bring degradation into + any house, or to any man. If there could have been an + argument powerful with me, to make me do that which you + wished to prevent, it was the argument which you used. But + my own comfort, and the happiness of another person whom + I value almost as much as myself, were too important to + be sacrificed even to a woman’s revenge. I take mine by + writing to you and telling you that I am better and more + rational and wiser than you took me to be. + + If, after this, you choose to be on good terms with me, I + shall be happy to be your friend. I shall want no further + revenge. You owe me some little apology; but whether you + make it or not, I will be contented, and will never do + more than ask whether your darling’s prospects are still + safe. There are more women than one in the world, you + know, and you must not consider yourself to be out of the + wood because you have escaped from a single danger. If + there arise another, come to me, and we will consult + together. + + Dear Lady Glencora, yours always sincerely, + + MARIE M. G. + + +There was a thing or two besides which she longed to say, laughing +as she thought of them. But she refrained, and her letter, when +finished, was as it is given above. + +On the day following, Lady Glencora was again in Park Lane. When she +first read Madame Goesler’s letter, she felt herself to be annoyed +and angry, but her anger was with herself rather than with her +correspondent. Ever since her last interview with the woman whom she +had feared, she had been conscious of having been indiscreet. All her +feelings had been too violent, and it might well have been that she +should have driven this woman to do the very thing that she was so +anxious to avoid. “You owe me some little apology,” Madame Goesler +had said. It was true,--and she would apologise. Undue pride was not +a part of Lady Glencora’s character. Indeed, there was not enough +of pride in her composition. She had been quite ready to hate this +woman, and to fight her on every point as long as the danger existed; +but she was equally willing to take the woman to her heart now that +the danger was over. Apologise! Of course she would apologise. And +she would make a friend of the woman if the woman wished it. But she +would not have the woman and the Duke at Matching together again, +lest, after all, there might be a mistake. She did not show Madame +Goesler’s letter to her husband, or tell him anything of the relief +she had received. He had cared but little for the danger, thinking +more of his budget than of the danger; and would be sufficiently at +his ease if he heard no more rumours of his uncle’s marriage. Lady +Glencora went to Park Lane early on the Tuesday morning, but she did +not take her boy with her. She understood that Madame Goesler might +perhaps indulge in a little gentle raillery at the child’s expense, +and the mother felt that this might be borne the more easily if the +child were not present. + +“I have come to thank you for your letter, Madame Goesler,” said Lady +Glencora, before she sat down. + +“Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, or to dance at our +bridal?” said Madame Goesler, standing up from her chair and +laughing, as she sang the lines. + +“Certainly not to dance at your bridal,” said Lady Glencora. + +“Alas! no. You have forbidden the banns too effectually for that, and +I sit here wearing the willow all alone. Why shouldn’t I be allowed +to get married as well as another woman, I wonder? I think you have +been very hard upon me among you. But sit down, Lady Glencora. At any +rate you come in peace.” + +“Certainly in peace, and with much admiration,--and a great deal of +love and affection, and all that kind of thing, if you will only +accept it.” + +“I shall be too proud, Lady Glencora;--for the Duke’s sake, if for no +other reason.” + +“And I have to make my apology.” + +“It was made as soon as your carriage stopped at my door with +friendly wheels. Of course I understand. I can know how terrible it +all was to you,--even though the dear little Plantagenet might not +have been in much danger. Fancy what it would be to disturb the +career of a Plantagenet! I am far too well read in history, I can +assure you.” + +“I said a word for which I am sorry, and which I should not have +said.” + +“Never mind the word. After all, it was a true word. I do not +hesitate to say so now myself, though I will allow no other woman +to say it,--and no man either. I should have degraded him,--and +disgraced him.” Madame Goesler now had dropped the bantering tone +which she had assumed, and was speaking in sober earnest. “I, for +myself, have nothing about me of which I am ashamed. I have no +history to hide, no story to be brought to light to my discredit. +But I have not been so born, or so placed by circumstances, as make +me fit to be the wife of the Duke of Omnium. I should not have been +happy, you know.” + +“You want nothing, dear Madame Goesler. You have all that society can +give you.” + +“I do not know about that. I have much given to me by society, but +there are many things that I want;--a bright-faced little boy, for +instance, to go about with me in my carriage. Why did you not bring +him, Lady Glencora?” + +“I came out in my penitential sheet, and when one goes in that guise, +one goes alone. I had half a mind to walk.” + +“You will bring him soon?” + +“Oh, yes. He was very anxious to know the other day who was the +beautiful lady with the black hair.” + +“You did not tell him that the beautiful lady with the black hair was +a possible aunt, was a possible--? But we will not think any more of +things so horrible.” + +“I told him nothing of my fears, you may be sure.” + +“Some day, when I am a very old woman, and when his father is quite +an old duke, and when he has a dozen little boys and girls of his +own, you will tell him the story. Then he will reflect what a madman +his great-uncle must have been, to have thought of making a duchess +out of such a wizened old woman as that.” + +They parted the best of friends, but Lady Glencora was still of +opinion that if the lady and the Duke were to be brought together at +Matching, or elsewhere, there might still be danger. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIII + +Showing How the Duke Stood His Ground + + +Mr. Low the barrister, who had given so many lectures to our friend +Phineas Finn, lectures that ought to have been useful, was now +himself in the House of Commons, having reached it in the legitimate +course of his profession. At a certain point of his career, supposing +his career to have been sufficiently prosperous, it becomes natural +to a barrister to stand for some constituency, and natural for him +also to form his politics at that period of his life with a view to +his further advancement, looking, as he does so, carefully at the age +and standing of the various candidates for high legal office. When a +man has worked as Mr. Low had worked, he begins to regard the bench +wistfully, and to calculate the profits of a two years’ run in the +Attorney-Generalship. It is the way of the profession, and thus a +proper and sufficient number of real barristers finds its way into +the House. Mr. Low had been angry with Phineas because he, being a +barrister, had climbed into it after another fashion, having taken +up politics, not in the proper way as an assistance to his great +profession, but as a profession in itself. Mr. Low had been quite +sure that his pupil had been wrong in this, and that the error would +at last show itself, to his pupil’s cost. And Mrs. Low had been more +sure than Mr. Low, having not unnaturally been jealous that a young +whipper-snapper of a pupil,--as she had once called Phineas,--should +become a Parliament man before her husband, who had worked his way +up gallantly, in the usual course. She would not give way a jot even +now,--not even when she heard that Phineas was going to marry this +and that heiress. For at this period of his life such rumours were +afloat about him, originating probably in his hopes as to Violet +Effingham and his intimacy with Madame Goesler. “Oh, heiresses!” +said Mrs. Low. “I don’t believe in heiresses’ money till I see it. +Three or four hundred a year is a great fortune for a woman, but it +don’t go far in keeping a house in London. And when a woman has got +a little money she generally knows how to spend it. He has begun at +the wrong end, and they who do that never get themselves right at +the last.” + +At this time Phineas had become somewhat of a fine gentleman, which +made Mrs. Low the more angry with him. He showed himself willing +enough to go to Mrs. Low’s house, but when there he seemed to her +to give himself airs. I think that she was unjust to him, and that +it was natural that he should not bear himself beneath her remarks +exactly as he had done when he was nobody. He had certainly been very +successful. He was always listened to in the House, and rarely spoke +except on subjects which belonged to him, or had been allotted to him +as part of his business. He lived quite at his ease with people of +the highest rank,--and those of his own mode of life who disliked him +did so simply because they regarded with envy his too rapid rise. He +rode upon a pretty horse in the park, and was careful in his dress, +and had about him an air of comfortable wealth which Mrs. Low thought +he had not earned. When her husband told her of his sufficient +salary, she would shake her head and express her opinion that a good +time was coming. By which she perhaps meant to imply a belief that +a time was coming in which her husband would have a salary much +better than that now enjoyed by Phineas, and much more likely to be +permanent. The Radicals were not to have office for ever, and when +they were gone, what then? “I don’t suppose he saves a shilling,” +said Mrs. Low. “How can he, keeping a horse in the park, and hunting +down in the country, and living with lords? I shouldn’t wonder if he +isn’t found to be over head and ears in debt when things come to be +looked into.” Mrs. Low was fond of an assured prosperity, of money in +the funds, and was proud to think that her husband lived in a house +of his own. “£19 10s. ground-rent to the Portman estate is what we +pay, Mr. Bunce,” she once said to that gallant Radical, “and that +comes of beginning at the right end. Mr. Low had nothing when he +began the world, and I had just what made us decent the day we +married. But he began at the right end, and let things go as they may +he can’t get a fall.” Mr. Bunce and Mrs. Low, though they differed +much in politics, sympathised in reference to Phineas. + +“I never believes, ma’am, in nobody doing any good by getting a +place,” said Mr. Bunce. “Of course I don’t mean judges and them like, +which must be. But when a young man has ever so much a year for +sitting in a big room down at Whitehall, and reading a newspaper +with his feet up on a chair, I don’t think it honest, whether he’s +a Parliament man or whether he ain’t.” Whence Mr. Bunce had got his +notions as to the way in which officials at Whitehall pass their +time, I cannot say; but his notions are very common notions. The +British world at large is slow to believe that the great British +housekeeper keeps no more cats than what kill mice. + +Mr. Low, who was now frequently in the habit of seeing Phineas at +the House, had somewhat changed his opinions, and was not so eager +in condemning Phineas as was his wife. He had begun to think that +perhaps Phineas had shown some knowledge of his own aptitudes in the +career which he had sought, and was aware, at any rate, that his late +pupil was somebody in the House of Commons. A man will almost always +respect him whom those around him respect, and will generally look up +to one who is evidently above himself in his own daily avocation. Now +Phineas was certainly above Mr. Low in parliamentary reputation. He +sat on a front bench. He knew the leaders of parties. He was at home +amidst the forms of the House. He enjoyed something of the prestige +of Government power. And he walked about familiarly with the sons of +dukes and the brothers of earls in a manner which had its effect even +on Mr. Low. Seeing these things Mr. Low could not maintain his old +opinion as stoutly as did his wife. It was almost a privilege to Mr. +Low to be intimate with Phineas Finn. How then could he look down +upon him? + +He was surprised, therefore, one day when Phineas discussed the +matter with him fully. Phineas had asked him what would be his chance +of success if even now he were to give up politics and take to the +Bar as the means of earning his livelihood. “You would have uphill +work at first, as a matter of course,” said Mr. Low. + +“But it might be done, I suppose. To have been in office would not be +fatal to me?” + +“No, not fatal. Nothing of the kind need be fatal. Men have +succeeded, and have sat on the bench afterwards, who did not begin +till they were past forty. You would have to live down a prejudice +created against yourself; that is all. The attorneys do not like +barristers who are anything else but barristers.” + +“The attorneys are very arbitrary, I know,” said Phineas. + +“Yes;--and there would be this against you--that it is so difficult +for a man to go back to the verdure and malleability of pupildom, +who has once escaped from the necessary humility of its conditions. +You will find it difficult to sit and wait for business in a +Vice-Chancellor’s Court, after having had Vice-Chancellors, or men +as big as Vice-Chancellors, to wait upon you.” + +“I do not think much of that.” + +“But others would think of it, and you would find that there were +difficulties. But you are not thinking of it in earnest?” + +“Yes, in earnest.” + +“Why so? I should have thought that every day had removed you +further and further from any such idea.” + +“The ground I’m on at present is so slippery.” + +“Well, yes. I can understand that. But yet it is less slippery than +it used to be.” + +“Ah;--you do not exactly see. What if I were to lose my seat?” + +“You are safe at least for the next four years, I should say.” + +“Ah;--no one can tell. And suppose I took it into my head to differ +from the Government?” + +“You must not do that. You have put yourself into a boat with these +men, and you must remain in the boat. I should have thought all that +was easy to you.” + +“It is not so easy as it seems. The very necessity of sitting still +in the boat is in itself irksome,--very irksome. And then there comes +some crisis in which a man cannot sit still.” + +“Is there any such crisis at hand now?” + +“I cannot say that;--but I am beginning to find that sitting still is +very disagreeable to me. When I hear those fellows below having their +own way, and saying just what they like, it makes me furious. There +is Robson. He tried office for a couple of years, and has broken +away; and now, by George, there is no man they think so much of as +they do of Robson. He is twice the man he was when he sat on the +Treasury Bench.” + +“He is a man of fortune;--is he not?” + +“I suppose so. Of course he is, because he lives. He never earns +anything. His wife had money.” + +“My dear Finn, that makes all the difference. When a man has means +of his own he can please himself. Do you marry a wife with money, +and then you may kick up your heels, and do as you like about the +Colonial Office. When a man hasn’t money, of course he must fit +himself to the circumstances of a profession.” + +“Though his profession may require him to be dishonest.” + +“I did not say that.” + +“But I say it, my dear Low. A man who is ready to vote black white +because somebody tells him, is dishonest. Never mind, old fellow. I +shall pull through, I daresay. Don’t go and tell your wife all this, +or she’ll be harder upon me than ever when she sees me.” After that +Mr. Low began to think that his wife’s judgment in this matter had +been better than his own. + +Robson could do as he liked because he had married a woman with +money. Phineas told himself that that game was also open to him. He, +too, might marry money. Violet Effingham had money;--quite enough to +make him independent were he married to her. And Madame Goesler had +money;--plenty of money. And an idea had begun to creep upon him that +Madame Goesler would take him were he to offer himself. But he would +sooner go back to the Bar as the lowest pupil, sooner clean boots for +barristers,--so he told himself,--than marry a woman simply because +she had money, than marry any other woman as long as there was a +chance that Violet might be won. But it was very desirable that he +should know whether Violet might be won or not. It was now July, and +everybody would be gone in another month. Before August would be over +he was to start for Ireland with Mr. Monk, and he knew that words +would be spoken in Ireland which might make it indispensable for +him to be, at any rate, able to throw up his office. In these days +he became more anxious than he used to be about Miss Effingham’s +fortune. + +He had never spoken as yet to Lord Brentford since the day on which +the Earl had quarrelled with him, nor had he ever been at the house +in Portman Square. Lady Laura he met occasionally, and had always +spoken to her. She was gracious to him, but there had been no renewal +of their intimacy. Rumours had reached him that things were going +badly with her and her husband; but when men repeated such rumours +in his presence, he said little or nothing on the subject. It was +not for him, at any rate, to speak of Lady Laura’s unhappiness. Lord +Chiltern he had seen once or twice during the last month, and they +had met cordially as friends. Of course he could ask no question +from Lord Chiltern as to Violet; but he did learn that his friend +had again patched up some reconciliation with his father. “He has +quarrelled with me, you know,” said Phineas. + +“I am very sorry, but what could I do? As things went, I was obliged +to tell him.” + +“Do not suppose for a moment that I am blaming you. It is, no doubt, +much better that he should know it all.” + +“And it cannot make much difference to you, I should say.” + +“One doesn’t like to quarrel with those who have been kind to one,” +said Phineas. + +“But it isn’t your doing. He’ll come right again after a time. When +I can get my own affairs settled, you may be sure I’ll do my best to +bring him round. But what’s the reason you never see Laura now?” + +“What’s the reason that everything goes awry?” said Phineas, +bitterly. + +“When I mentioned your name to Kennedy the other day, he looked as +black as thunder. But it is not odd that any one should quarrel with +him. I can’t stand him. Do you know, I sometimes think that Laura +will have to give it up. Then there will be another mess in the +family!” + +This was all very well as coming from Lord Chiltern; but there was no +word about Violet, and Phineas did not know how to get a word from +any one. Lady Laura could have told him everything, but he could not +go to Lady Laura. He did go to Lady Baldock’s house as often as he +thought he could with propriety, and occasionally he saw Violet. But +he could do no more than see her, and the days and weeks were passing +by, and the time was coming in which he would have to go away, and be +with her no more. The end of the season, which was always to other +men,--to other working men such as our hero,--a period of pleasurable +anticipation, to him was a time of sadness, in which he felt that +he was not exactly like to, or even equal to, the men with whom he +lived in London. In the old days, in which he was allowed to go to +Loughlinter or to Saulsby, when all men and women were going to their +Loughlinters and their Saulsbys, it was very well with him; but there +was something melancholy to him in his yearly journey to Ireland. He +loved his father and mother and sisters as well as do other men; but +there was a falling off in the manner of his life which made him feel +that he had been in some sort out of his own element in London. He +would have liked to have shot grouse at Loughlinter, or pheasants at +Saulsby, or to have hunted down at Willingford,--or better still, to +have made love to Violet Effingham wherever Violet Effingham might +have placed herself. But all this was closed to him now; and there +would be nothing for him but to remain at Killaloe, or to return +to his work in Downing Street, from August to February. Mr. Monk, +indeed, was going with him for a few weeks; but even this association +did not make up for that sort of society which he would have +preferred. + +The session went on very quietly. The question of the Irish Reform +Bill was postponed till the next year, which was a great thing +gained. He carried his bill about the Canada Railway, with sundry +other small bills appertaining to it, through the House in a manner +which redounded infinitely to his credit. There was just enough +of opposition to give a zest to the work, and to make the affair +conspicuous among the affairs of the year. As his chief was in the +other house, the work fell altogether into his hands, so that he came +to be conspicuous among Under-Secretaries. It was only when he said +a word to any leaders of his party about other matters,--about Irish +Tenant-right, for instance, which was beginning to loom very large, +that he found himself to be snubbed. But there was no room for action +this year in reference to Irish Tenant-right, and therefore any deep +consideration of that discomfort might be legitimately postponed. If +he did by chance open his mouth on the subject to Mr. Monk, even Mr. +Monk discouraged him. + +In the early days of July, when the weather was very hot, and people +were beginning to complain of the Thames, and members were becoming +thirsty after grouse, and the remaining days of parliamentary work +were being counted up, there came to him news,--news that was soon +known throughout the fashionable world,--that the Duke of Omnium was +going to give a garden party at a certain villa residence on the +banks of the Thames above Richmond. It was to be such a garden party +as had never been seen before. And it would be the more remarkable +because the Duke had never been known to do such a thing. The villa +was called The Horns, and had, indeed, been given by the Duke to +Lady Glencora on her marriage; but the party was to be the Duke’s +party, and The Horns, with all its gardens, conservatories, lawns, +shrubberies, paddocks, boat-houses, and boats, was to be made bright +and beautiful for the occasion. Scores of workmen were about the +place through the three first weeks of July. The world at large did +not at all know why the Duke was doing so unwonted a thing,--why +he should undertake so new a trouble. But Lady Glencora knew, and +Madame Goesler shrewdly guessed, the riddle. When Madame Goesler’s +unexpected refusal had reached his Grace, he felt that he must either +accept the lady’s refusal, or persevere. After a day’s consideration, +he resolved that he would accept it. The top brick of the chimney was +very desirable; but perhaps it might be well that he should endeavour +to live without it. Then, accepting this refusal, he must either +stand his ground and bear the blow,--or he must run away to that +villa at Como, or elsewhere. The running away seemed to him at first +to be the better, or at least the more pleasant, course; but at last +he determined that he would stand his ground and bear the blow. +Therefore he gave his garden party at The Horns. + +Who was to be invited? Before the first week in July was over, many +a bosom in London was fluttering with anxiety on that subject. The +Duke, in giving his short word of instruction to Lady Glencora, +made her understand that he would wish her to be particular in her +invitations. Her Royal Highness the Princess, and his Royal Highness +the Prince, had both been so gracious as to say that they would +honour his fête. The Duke himself had made out a short list, with not +more than a dozen names. Lady Glencora was employed to select the +real crowd,--the five hundred out of the ten thousand who were to +be blessed. On the Duke’s own private list was the name of Madame +Goesler. Lady Glencora understood it all. When Madame Goesler got her +card, she thought that she understood it too. And she thought also +that the Duke was behaving in a gallant way. + +There was, no doubt, much difficulty about the invitations, and a +considerable amount of ill-will was created. And they who considered +themselves entitled to be asked, and were not asked, were full of +wrath against their more fortunate friends, instead of being angry +with the Duke or with Lady Glencora, who had neglected them. It was +soon known that Lady Glencora was the real dispenser of the favours, +and I fancy that her ladyship was tired of her task before it was +completed. The party was to take place on Wednesday, the 27th of +July, and before the day had come, men and women had become so hardy +in the combat that personal applications were made with unflinching +importunity; and letters were written to Lady Glencora putting +forward this claim and that claim with a piteous clamour. “No, that +is too bad,” Lady Glencora said to her particular friend, Mrs. Grey, +when a letter came from Mrs. Bonteen, stating all that her husband +had ever done towards supporting Mr. Palliser in Parliament,--and all +that he ever would do. “She shan’t have it, even though she could put +Plantagenet into a minority to-morrow.” + +Mrs. Bonteen did not get a card; and when she heard that Phineas Finn +had received one, her wrath against Phineas was very great. He was +“an Irish adventurer,” and she regretted deeply that Mr. Bonteen had +ever interested himself in bringing such an upstart forward in the +world of politics. But as Mr. Bonteen never had done anything towards +bringing Phineas forward, there was not much cause for regret on this +head. Phineas, however, got his card, and, of course, accepted the +invitation. + +The grounds were opened at four. There was to be an early dinner out +in tents at five; and after dinner men and women were to walk about, +or dance, or make love--or hay, as suited them. The haycocks, +however, were ready prepared, while it was expected that they should +bring the love with them. Phineas, knowing that he should meet Violet +Effingham, took a great deal with him ready made. + +For an hour and a half Lady Glencora kept her position in a saloon +through which the guests passed to the grounds, and to every comer +she imparted the information that the Duke was on the lawn;--to every +comer but one. To Madame Goesler she said no such word. “So glad to +see you, my dear,” she said, as she pressed her friend’s hand: “if I +am not killed by this work, I’ll make you out again by-and-by.” Then +Madame Goesler passed on, and soon found herself amidst a throng +of acquaintance. After a few minutes she saw the Duke seated in an +arm-chair, close to the river-bank, and she bravely went up to him, +and thanked him for the invitation. “The thanks are due to you for +gracing our entertainment,” said the Duke, rising to greet her. There +were a dozen people standing round, and so the thing was done without +difficulty. At that moment there came a notice that their royal +highnesses were on the ground, and the Duke, of course, went off to +meet them. There was not a word more spoken between the Duke and +Madame Goesler on that afternoon. + +Phineas did not come till late,--till seven, when the banquet was +over. I think he was right in this, as the banqueting in tents loses +in comfort almost more than it gains in romance. A small picnic may +be very well, and the distance previously travelled may give to a +dinner on the ground the seeming excuse of necessity. Frail human +nature must be supported,--and human nature, having gone so far +in pursuit of the beautiful, is entitled to what best support the +unaccustomed circumstances will allow. Therefore, out with the cold +pies, out with the salads, and the chickens, and the champagne. Since +no better may be, let us recruit human nature sitting upon this moss, +and forget our discomforts in the glory of the verdure around us. And +dear Mary, seeing that the cushion from the waggonet is small, and +not wishing to accept the too generous offer that she should take it +all for her own use, will admit a contact somewhat closer than the +ordinary chairs of a dining-room render necessary. That in its way is +very well;--but I hold that a banquet on narrow tables in a tent is +displeasing. + +Phineas strolled into the grounds when the tent was nearly empty, and +when Lady Glencora, almost sinking beneath her exertions, was taking +rest in an inner room. The Duke at this time was dining with their +royal highnesses, and three or four others, specially selected, +very comfortably within doors. Out of doors the world had begun to +dance,--and the world was beginning to say that it would be much +nicer to go and dance upon the boards inside as soon as possible. +For, though of all parties a garden party is the nicest, everybody +is always anxious to get out of the garden as quick as may be. A few +ardent lovers of suburban picturesque effect were sitting beneath the +haycocks, and four forlorn damsels were vainly endeavouring to excite +the sympathy of manly youth by playing croquet in a corner. I am not +sure, however, that the lovers beneath the haycocks and the players +at croquet were not actors hired by Lady Glencora for the occasion. + +Phineas had not been long on the lawn before he saw Lady Laura +Kennedy. She was standing with another lady, and Barrington Erle was +with them. “So you have been successful?” said Barrington, greeting +him. + +“Successful in what?” + +“In what? In getting a ticket. I have had to promise three +tide-waiterships, and to give deep hints about a bishopric expected +to be vacant, before I got in. But what matters? Success pays for +everything. My only trouble now is how I’m to get back to London.” + +Lady Laura shook hands with Phineas, and then as he was passing on, +followed him for a step and whispered a word to him. “Mr. Finn,” she +said, “if you are not going yet, come back to me presently. I have +something to say to you. I shall not be far from the river, and shall +stay here for about an hour.” + +Phineas said that he would, and then went on, not knowing exactly +where he was going. He had one desire,--to find Violet Effingham, but +when he should find her he could not carry her off, and sit with her +beneath a haycock. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIV + +The Horns + + +While looking for Violet Effingham, Phineas encountered Madame +Goesler, among a crowd of people who were watching the adventurous +embarkation of certain daring spirits in a pleasure-boat. There were +watermen there in the Duke’s livery, ready to take such spirits down +to Richmond or up to Teddington lock, and many daring spirits did +take such trips,--to the great peril of muslins, ribbons, and starch, +to the peril also of ornamental summer white garments, so that when +the thing was over, the boats were voted to have been a bore. + +“Are you going to venture?” said Phineas to the lady. + +“I should like it of all things if I were not afraid for my clothes. +Will you come?” + +“I was never good upon the water. I should be sea-sick to a +certainty. They are going down beneath the bridge too, and we should +be splashed by the steamers. I don’t think my courage is high +enough.” Thus Phineas excused himself, being still intent on +prosecuting his search for Violet. + +“Then neither will I,” said Madame Goesler. “One dash from a peccant +oar would destroy the whole symmetry of my dress. Look. That green +young lady has already been sprinkled.” + +“But the blue young gentleman has been sprinkled also,” said Phineas, +“and they will be happy in a joint baptism.” Then they strolled along +the river path together, and were soon alone. “You will be leaving +town soon, Madame Goesler?” + +“Almost immediately.” + +“And where do you go?” + +“Oh,--to Vienna. I am there for a couple of months every year, +minding my business. I wonder whether you would know me, if you saw +me;--sometimes sitting on a stool in a counting-house, sometimes +going about among old houses, settling what must be done to save them +from tumbling down. I dress so differently at such times, and talk so +differently, and look so much older, that I almost fancy myself to be +another person.” + +“Is it a great trouble to you?” + +“No,--I rather like it. It makes me feel that I do something in the +world.” + +“Do you go alone?” + +“Quite alone. I take a German maid with me, and never speak a word to +any one else on the journey.” + +“That must be very bad,” said Phineas. + +“Yes; it is the worst of it. But then I am so much accustomed to be +alone. You see me in society, and in society only, and therefore +naturally look upon me as one of a gregarious herd; but I am in truth +an animal that feeds alone and lives alone. Take the hours of the +year all through, and I am a solitary during four-fifths of them. And +what do you intend to do?” + +“I go to Ireland.” + +“Home to your own people. How nice! I have no people to go to. I +have one sister, who lives with her husband at Riga. She is my only +relation, and I never see her.” + +“But you have thousands of friends in England.” + +“Yes,--as you see them,”--and she turned and spread out her hands +towards the crowded lawn, which was behind them. “What are such +friends worth? What would they do for me?” + +“I do not know that the Duke would do much,” said Phineas laughing. + +Madame Goesler laughed also. “The Duke is not so bad,” she said. “The +Duke would do as much as any one else. I won’t have the Duke abused.” + +“He may be your particular friend, for what I know,” said Phineas. + +“Ah;--no. I have no particular friend. And were I to wish to choose +one, I should think the Duke a little above me.” + +“Oh, yes;--and too stiff, and too old, and too pompous, and too cold, +and too make-believe, and too gingerbread.” + +“Mr. Finn!” + +“The Duke is all buckram, you know.” + +“Then why do you come to his house?” + +“To see you, Madame Goesler.” + +“Is that true, Mr. Finn?” + +“Yes;--it is true in its way. One goes about to meet those whom one +likes, not always for the pleasure of the host’s society. I hope I am +not wrong because I go to houses at which I like neither the host nor +the hostess.” Phineas as he said this was thinking of Lady Baldock, +to whom of late he had been exceedingly civil,--but he certainly did +not like Lady Baldock. + +“I think you have been too hard upon the Duke of Omnium. Do you know +him well?” + +“Personally? certainly not. Do you? Does anybody?” + +“I think he is a gracious gentleman,” said Madame Goesler, “and +though I cannot boast of knowing him well, I do not like to hear him +called buckram. I do not think he is buckram. It is not very easy for +a man in his position to live so as to please all people. He has to +maintain the prestige of the highest aristocracy in Europe.” + +“Look at his nephew, who will be the next Duke, and who works as hard +as any man in the country. Will he not maintain it better? What good +did the present man ever do?” + +“You believe only in motion, Mr. Finn;--and not at all in quiescence. +An express train at full speed is grander to you than a mountain with +heaps of snow. I own that to me there is something glorious in the +dignity of a man too high to do anything,--if only he knows how to +carry that dignity with a proper grace. I think that there should be +breasts made to carry stars.” + +“Stars which they have never earned,” said Phineas. + +“Ah;--well; we will not fight about it. Go and earn your star, and I +will say that it becomes you better than any glitter on the coat of +the Duke of Omnium.” This she said with an earnestness which he could +not pretend not to notice or not to understand. “I too may be able to +see that the express train is really greater than the mountain.” + +“Though, for your own life, you would prefer to sit and gaze upon the +snowy peaks?” + +“No;--that is not so. For myself, I would prefer to be of use +somewhere,--to some one, if it were possible. I strive sometimes.” + +“And I am sure successfully.” + +“Never mind. I hate to talk about myself. You and the Duke are +fair subjects for conversation; you as the express train, who will +probably do your sixty miles an hour in safety, but may possibly go +down a bank with a crash.” + +“Certainly I may,” said Phineas. + +“And the Duke, as the mountain, which is fixed in its stateliness, +short of the power of some earthquake, which shall be grander and +more terrible than any earthquake yet known. Here we are at the house +again. I will go in and sit down for a while.” + +“If I leave you, Madame Goesler, I will say good-bye till next +winter.” + +“I shall be in town again before Christmas, you know. You will come +and see me?” + +“Of course I will.” + +“And then this love trouble of course will be over,--one way or the +other;--will it not?” + +“Ah!--who can say?” + +“Faint heart never won fair lady. But your heart is never faint. +Farewell.” + +Then he left her. Up to this moment he had not seen Violet, and yet +he knew that she was to be there. She had herself told him that she +was to accompany Lady Laura, whom he had already met. Lady Baldock +had not been invited, and had expressed great animosity against the +Duke in consequence. She had gone so far as to say that the Duke was +a man at whose house a young lady such as her niece ought not to be +seen. But Violet had laughed at this, and declared her intention of +accepting the invitation. “Go,” she had said; “of course I shall go. +I should have broken my heart if I could not have got there.” Phineas +therefore was sure that she must be in the place. He had kept his +eyes ever on the alert, and yet he had not found her. And now he must +keep his appointment with Lady Laura Kennedy. So he went down to the +path by the river, and there he found her seated close by the water’s +edge. Her cousin Barrington Erle was still with her, but as soon as +Phineas joined them, Erle went away. “I had told him,” said Lady +Laura, “that I wished to speak to you, and he stayed with me till you +came. There are worse men than Barrington a great deal.” + +“I am sure of that.” + +“Are you and he still friends, Mr. Finn?” + +“I hope so. I do not see so much of him as I did when I had less to +do.” + +“He says that you have got into altogether a different set.” + +“I don’t know that. I have gone as circumstances have directed me, +but I have certainly not intended to throw over so old and good a +friend as Barrington Erle.” + +“Oh,--he does not blame you. He tells me that you have found your +way among what he calls the working men of the party, and he thinks +you will do very well,--if you can only be patient enough. We all +expected a different line from you, you know,--more of words and +less of deeds, if I may say so;--more of liberal oratory and less of +government action; but I do not doubt that you are right.” + +“I think that I have been wrong,” said Phineas. “I am becoming +heartily sick of officialities.” + +“That comes from the fickleness about which papa is so fond of +quoting his Latin. The ox desires the saddle. The charger wants to +plough.” + +“And which am I?” + +“Your career may combine the dignity of the one with the utility of +the other. At any rate you must not think of changing now. Have you +seen Mr. Kennedy lately?” She asked the question abruptly, showing +that she was anxious to get to the matter respecting which she had +summoned him to her side, and that all that she had said hitherto had +been uttered as it were in preparation of that subject. + +“Seen him? yes; I see him daily. But we hardly do more than speak.” + +“Why not?” Phineas stood for a moment in silence, hesitating. “Why is +it that he and you do not speak?” + +“How can I answer that question, Lady Laura?” + +“Do you know any reason? Sit down, or, if you please, I will get up +and walk with you. He tells me that you have chosen to quarrel with +him, and that I have made you do so. He says that you have confessed +to him that I have asked you to quarrel with him.” + +“He can hardly have said that.” + +“But he has said it,--in so many words. Do you think that I would +tell you such a story falsely?” + +“Is he here now?” + +“No;--he is not here. He would not come. I came alone.” + +“Is not Miss Effingham with you?” + +“No;--she is to come with my father later. She is here no doubt, now. +But answer my question, Mr. Finn;--unless you find that you cannot +answer it. What was it that you did say to my husband?” + +“Nothing to justify what he has told you.” + +“Do you mean to say that he has spoken falsely?” + +“I mean to use no harsh word,--but I think that Mr. Kennedy when +troubled in his spirit looks at things gloomily, and puts meaning +upon words which they should not bear.” + +“And what has troubled his spirit?” + +“You must know that better than I can do, Lady Laura. I will tell you +all that I can tell you. He invited me to his house and I would not +go, because you had forbidden me. Then he asked me some questions +about you. Did I refuse because of you,--or of anything that you had +said? If I remember right, I told him that I did fancy that you would +not be glad to see me,--and that therefore I would rather stay away. +What was I to say?” + +“You should have said nothing.” + +“Nothing with him would have been worse than what I did say. Remember +that he asked me the question point-blank, and that no reply would +have been equal to an affirmation. I should have confessed that his +suggestion was true.” + +“He could not then have twitted me with your words.” + +“If I have erred, Lady Laura, and brought any sorrow on you, I am +indeed grieved.” + +“It is all sorrow. There is nothing but sorrow. I have made up my +mind to leave him.” + +“Oh, Lady Laura!” + +“It is very bad,--but not so bad, I think, as the life I am now +leading. He has accused me--, of what do you think? He says that you +are my lover!” + +“He did not say that,--in those words?” + +“He said it in words which made me feel that I must part from him.” + +“And how did you answer him?” + +“I would not answer him at all. If he had come to me like a man,--not +accusing me, but asking me,--I would have told him everything. And +what was there to tell? I should have broken my faith to you, in +speaking of that scene at Loughlinter, but women always tell such +stories to their husbands when their husbands are good to them, and +true, and just. And it is well that they should be told. But to Mr. +Kennedy I can tell nothing. He does not believe my word.” + +“Not believe you, Lady Laura?” + +“No! Because I did not blurt out to him all that story about your +foolish duel,--because I thought it best to keep my brother’s secret, +as long as there was a secret to be kept, he told me that I +had,--lied to him!” + +“What!--with that word?” + +“Yes,--with that very word. He is not particular about his words, +when he thinks it necessary to express himself strongly. And he has +told me since that because of that he could never believe me again. +How is it possible that a woman should live with such a man?” But +why did she come to him with this story,--to him whom she had been +accused of entertaining as a lover;--to him who of all her friends +was the last whom she should have chosen as the recipient for such a +tale? Phineas as he thought how he might best answer her, with what +words he might try to comfort her, could not but ask himself this +question. “The moment that the word was out of his mouth,” she went +on to say, “I resolved that I would tell you. The accusation is +against you as it is against me, and is equally false to both. I +have written to him, and there is my letter.” + +“But you will see him again?” + +“No;--I will go to my father’s house. I have already arranged it. Mr. +Kennedy has my letter by this time, and I go from hence home with my +father.” + +“Do you wish that I should read the letter?” + +“Yes,--certainly. I wish that you should read it. Should I ever meet +him again, I shall tell him that you saw it.” + +They were now standing close upon the river’s bank, at a corner of +the grounds, and, though the voices of people sounded near to them, +they were alone. Phineas had no alternative but to read the letter, +which was as follows:-- + + + After what you have said to me it is impossible that I + should return to your house. I shall meet my father at the + Duke of Omnium’s, and have already asked him to give me an + asylum. It is my wish to remain wherever he may be, either + in town or in the country. Should I change my purpose in + this, and change my residence, I will not fail to let you + know where I go and what I propose to do. You I think must + have forgotten that I was your wife; but I will never + forget it. + + You have accused me of having a lover. You cannot have + expected that I should continue to live with you after + such an accusation. For myself I cannot understand how + any man can have brought himself to bring such a charge + against his wife. Even had it been true the accusation + should not have been made by your mouth to my ears. + + That it is untrue I believe you must be as well aware as + I am myself. How intimate I was with Mr. Finn, and what + were the limits of my intimacy with him you knew before + I married you. After our marriage I encouraged his + friendship till I found that there was something in + it that displeased you,--and, after learning that, I + discouraged it. You have said that he is my lover, but + you have probably not defined for yourself that word very + clearly. You have felt yourself slighted because his name + has been mentioned with praise;--and your jealousy has + been wounded because you have thought that I have regarded + him as in some way superior to yourself. You have never + really thought that he was my lover,--that he spoke words + to me which others might not hear, that he claimed from + me aught that a wife may not give, that he received aught + which a friend should not receive. The accusation has been + a coward’s accusation. + + I shall be at my father’s to-night, and to-morrow I will + get you to let my servant bring to me such things as are + my own,--my clothes, namely, and desk, and a few books. + She will know what I want. I trust you may be happier + without a wife, than ever you have been with me. I have + felt almost daily since we were married that you were a + man who would have been happier without a wife than with + one. + + Yours affectionately, + + LAURA KENNEDY. + + +“It is at any rate true,” she said, when Phineas had read the letter. + +“True! Doubtless it is true,” said Phineas, “except that I do not +suppose he was ever really angry with me, or jealous, or anything of +the sort,--because I got on well. It seems absurd even to think it.” + +“There is nothing too absurd for some men. I remember your telling +me that he was weak, and poor, and unworthy. I remember your saying +so when I first thought that he might become my husband. I wish I +had believed you when you told me so. I should not have made such a +shipwreck of myself as I have done. That is all I had to say to you. +After what has passed between us I did not choose that you should +hear how I was separated from my husband from any lips but my own. +I will go now and find papa. Do not come with me. I prefer being +alone.” Then he was left standing by himself, looking down upon the +river as it glided by. How would it have been with both of them if +Lady Laura had accepted him three years ago, when she consented to +join her lot with that of Mr. Kennedy, and had rejected him? As he +stood he heard the sound of music from the house, and remembered +that he had come there with the one sole object of seeing Violet +Effingham. He had known that he would meet Lady Laura, and it had +been in his mind to break through that law of silence which she had +imposed upon him, and once more to ask her to assist him,--to implore +her for the sake of their old friendship to tell him whether there +might yet be for him any chance of success. But in the interview +which had just taken place it had been impossible for him to speak +a word of himself or of Violet. To her, in her great desolation, +he could address himself on no other subject than that of her own +misery. But not the less when she was talking to him of her own +sorrow, of her regret that she had not listened to him when in years +past he had spoken slightingly of Mr. Kennedy, was he thinking of +Violet Effingham. Mr. Kennedy had certainly mistaken the signs of +things when he had accused his wife by saying that Phineas was her +lover. Phineas had soon got over that early feeling; and as far as he +himself was concerned had never regretted Lady Laura’s marriage. + +He remained down by the water for a few minutes, giving Lady Laura +time to escape, and then he wandered across the grounds towards the +house. It was now about nine o’clock, and though there were still +many walking about the grounds, the crowd of people were in the +rooms. The musicians were ranged out on a verandah, so that their +music might have been available for dancing within or without; but +the dancers had found the boards pleasanter than the lawn, and the +Duke’s garden party was becoming a mere ball, with privilege for the +dancers to stroll about the lawn between the dances. And in this +respect the fun was better than at a ball,--that let the engagements +made for partners be what they might, they could always be broken +with ease. No lady felt herself bound to dance with a cavalier who +was displeasing to her; and some gentlemen were left sadly in the +lurch. Phineas felt himself to be very much in the lurch, even after +he had discovered Violet Effingham standing up to dance with Lord +Fawn. + +He bided his time patiently, and at last he found his opportunity. +“Would she dance with him?” She declared that she intended to dance +no more, and that she had promised to be ready to return home with +Lord Brentford before ten o’clock. “I have pledged myself not to be +after ten,” she said, laughing. Then she put her hand upon his arm, +and they stepped out upon the terrace together. “Have you heard +anything?” she asked him, almost in a whisper. + +“Yes,” he said. “I have heard what you mean. I have heard it all.” + +“Is it not dreadful?” + +“I fear it is the best thing she can do. She has never been happy +with him.” + +“But to be accused after that fashion,--by her husband!” said Violet. +“One can hardly believe it in these days. And of all women she is the +last to deserve such accusation.” + +“The very last,” said Phineas, feeling that the subject was one upon +which it was not easy for him to speak. + +“I cannot conceive to whom he can have alluded,” said Violet. Then +Phineas began to understand that Violet had not heard the whole +story; but the difficulty of speaking was still very great. + +“It has been the result of ungovernable temper,” he said. + +“But a man does not usually strive to dishonour himself because he +is in a rage. And this man is incapable of rage. He must be cursed +with one of those dark gloomy minds in which love always leads to +jealousy. She will never return to him.” + +“One cannot say. In many respects it would be better that she +should,” said Phineas. + +“She will never return to him,” repeated Violet,--“never. Would you +advise her to do so?” + +“How can I say? If one were called upon for advice, one would think +so much before one spoke.” + +“I would not,--not for a minute. What! to be accused of that! How are +a man and woman to live together after there have been such words +between them? Poor Laura! What a terrible end to all her high hopes! +Do you not grieve for her?” + +They were now at some distance from the house, and Phineas could not +but feel that chance had been very good to him in giving him his +opportunity. She was leaning on his arm, and they were alone, and she +was speaking to him with all the familiarity of old friendship. “I +wonder whether I may change the subject,” said he, “and ask you a +word about yourself?” + +“What word?” she said sharply. + +“I have heard--” + +“What have you heard?” + +“Simply this,--that you are not now as you were six months ago. Your +marriage was then fixed for June.” + +“It has been unfixed since then,” she said. + +“Yes;--it has been unfixed. I know it. Miss Effingham, you will not +be angry with me if I say that when I heard it was so, something of a +hope,--no, I must not call it a hope,--something that longed to form +itself into hope returned to my breast, and from that hour to this +has been the only subject on which I have cared to think.” + +“Lord Chiltern is your friend, Mr. Finn?” + +“He is so, and I do not think that I have ever been untrue to my +friendship for him.” + +“He says that no man has ever had a truer friend. He will swear to +that in all companies. And I, when it was allowed to me to swear with +him, swore it too. As his friend, let me tell you one thing,--one +thing which I would never tell to any other man,--one thing which I +know I may tell you in confidence. You are a gentleman, and will not +break my confidence?” + +“I think I will not.” + +“I know you will not, because you are a gentleman. I told Lord +Chiltern in the autumn of last year that I loved him. And I did love +him. I shall never have the same confession to make to another man. +That he and I are not now,--on those loving terms,--which once +existed, can make no difference in that. A woman cannot transfer her +heart. There have been things which have made me feel,--that I was +perhaps mistaken,--in saying that I would be,--his wife. But I said +so, and cannot now give myself to another. Here is Lord Brentford, +and we will join him.” There was Lord Brentford with Lady Laura on +his arm, very gloomy,--resolving on what way he might be avenged on +the man who had insulted his daughter. He took but little notice +of Phineas as he resumed his charge of Miss Effingham; but the two +ladies wished him good night. + +“Good night, Lady Laura,” said Phineas, standing with his hat in his +hand,--“good night, Miss Effingham.” Then he was alone,--quite alone. +Would it not be well for him to go down to the bottom of the garden, +and fling himself into the quiet river, so that there might be an +end of him? Or would it not be better still that he should create +for himself some quiet river of life, away from London, away from +politics, away from lords, and titled ladies, and fashionable +squares, and the parties given by dukes, and the disappointments +incident to a small man in attempting to make for himself a career +among big men? There had frequently been in the mind of this young +man an idea that there was something almost false in his own +position,--that his life was a pretence, and that he would ultimately +be subject to that ruin which always comes, sooner or later, on +things which are false; and now as he wandered alone about Lady +Glencora’s gardens, this feeling was very strong within his bosom, +and robbed him altogether of the honour and glory of having been one +of the Duke of Omnium’s guests. + + + + +CHAPTER LXV + +The Cabinet Minister at Killaloe + + +Phineas did not throw himself into the river from the Duke’s garden; +and was ready, in spite of Violet Effingham, to start for Ireland +with Mr. Monk at the end of the first week in August. The close of +that season in London certainly was not a happy period of his life. +Violet had spoken to him after such a fashion that he could not bring +himself not to believe her. She had given him no hint whether it was +likely or unlikely that she and Lord Chiltern would be reconciled; +but she had convinced him that he could not be allowed to take Lord +Chiltern’s place. “A woman cannot transfer her heart,” she had said. +Phineas was well aware that many women do transfer their hearts; +but he had gone to this woman too soon after the wrench which her +love had received; he had been too sudden with his proposal for a +transfer; and the punishment for such ill judgment must be that +success would now be impossible to him. And yet how could he have +waited, feeling that Miss Effingham, if she were at all like other +girls whom he had known, might have promised herself to some other +lover before she would return within his reach in the succeeding +spring? But she was not like some other girls. Ah;--he knew that now, +and repented him of his haste. + +But he was ready for Mr. Monk on the 7th of August, and they started +together. Something less than twenty hours took them from London to +Killaloe, and during four or five of those twenty hours Mr. Monk +was unfitted for any conversation by the uncomfortable feelings +incidental to the passage from Holyhead to Kingstown. Nevertheless, +there was a great deal of conversation between them during the +journey. Mr. Monk had almost made up his mind to leave the Cabinet. +“It is sad to me to have to confess it,” he said, “but the truth is +that my old rival, Turnbull, is right. A man who begins his political +life as I began mine, is not the man of whom a Minister should +be formed. I am inclined to think that Ministers of Government +require almost as much education in their trade as shoemakers or +tallow-chandlers. I doubt whether you can make a good public servant +of a man simply because he has got the ear of the House of Commons.” + +“Then you mean to say,” said Phineas, “that we are altogether wrong +from beginning to end, in our way of arranging these things?” + +“I do not say that at all. Look at the men who have been leading +statesmen since our present mode of government was formed,--from the +days in which it was forming itself, say from Walpole down, and you +will find that all who have been of real use had early training as +public servants.” + +“Are we never to get out of the old groove?” + +“Not if the groove is good,” said Mr. Monk, “Those who have been +efficient as ministers sucked in their efficacy with their mother’s +milk. Lord Brock did so, and Lord de Terrier, and Mr. Mildmay. They +seated themselves in office chairs the moment they left college. +Mr. Gresham was in office before he was eight-and-twenty. The +Duke of St. Bungay was at work as a Private Secretary when he was +three-and-twenty. You, luckily for yourself, have done the same.” + +“And regret it every hour of my life.” + +“You have no cause for regret, but it is not so with me. If there be +any man unfitted by his previous career for office, it is he who has +become, or who has endeavoured to become, a popular politician,--an +exponent, if I may say so, of public opinion. As far as I can see, +office is offered to such men with one view only,--that of clipping +their wings.” + +“And of obtaining their help.” + +“It is the same thing. Help from Turnbull would mean the withdrawal +of all power of opposition from him. He could not give other help for +any long term, as the very fact of his accepting power and patronage +would take from him his popular leadership. The masses outside +require to have their minister as the Queen has hers; but the same +man cannot be minister to both. If the people’s minister chooses to +change his master, and to take the Queen’s shilling, something of +temporary relief may be gained by government in the fact that the +other place will for a time be vacant. But there are candidates +enough for such places, and the vacancy is not a vacancy long. Of +course the Crown has this pull, that it pays wages, and the people do +not.” + +“I do not think that that influenced you,” said Phineas. + +“It did not influence me. To you I will make bold to state so much +positively, though it would be foolish, perhaps, to do so to others. +I did not go for the shilling, though I am so poor a man that the +shilling is more to me than it would be to almost any man in the +House. I took the shilling, much doubting, but guided in part by +this, that I was ashamed of being afraid to take it. They told +me,--Mr. Mildmay and the Duke,--that I could earn it to the benefit +of the country. I have not earned it, and the country has not been +benefited,--unless it be for the good of the country that my voice in +the House should be silenced. If I believe that, I ought to hold my +tongue without taking a salary for holding it. I have made a mistake, +my friend. Such mistakes made at my time of life cannot be wholly +rectified; but, being convinced of my error, I must do the best in my +power to put myself right again.” + +There was a bitterness in all this to Phineas himself of which he +could not but make plaint to his companion. “The truth is,” he said, +“that a man in office must be a slave, and that slavery is +distasteful.” + +“There I think you are wrong. If you mean that you cannot do joint +work with other men altogether after your own fashion the same may be +said of all work. If you had stuck to the Bar you must have pleaded +your causes in conformity with instructions from the attorneys.” + +“I should have been guided by my own lights in advising those +attorneys.” + +“I cannot see that you suffer anything that ought to go against the +grain with you. You are beginning young, and it is your first adopted +career. With me it is otherwise. If by my telling you this I shall +have led you astray, I shall regret my openness with you. Could I +begin again, I would willingly begin as you began.” + +It was a great day in Killaloe, that on which Mr. Monk arrived with +Phineas at the doctor’s house. In London, perhaps, a bishop inspires +more awe than a Cabinet Minister. In Killaloe, where a bishop might +be seen walking about every day, the mitred dignitary of the Church, +though much loved, was thought of, I fear, but lightly; whereas a +Cabinet Minister coming to stay in the house of a townsman was a +thing to be wondered at, to be talked about, to be afraid of, to be +a fruitful source of conversation for a year to come. There were +many in Killaloe, especially among the elder ladies, who had shaken +their heads and expressed the saddest doubts when young Phineas Finn +had first become a Parliament man. And though by degrees they had +been half brought round, having been driven to acknowledge that he +had been wonderfully successful as a Parliament man, still they +had continued to shake their heads among themselves, and to fear +something in the future,--until he appeared at his old home leading a +Cabinet Minister by the hand. There was such assurance in this that +even old Mrs. Callaghan, at the brewery, gave way, and began to say +all manner of good things, and to praise the doctor’s luck in that he +had a son gifted with parts so excellent. There was a great desire to +see the Cabinet Minister in the flesh, to be with him when he ate and +drank, to watch the gait and countenance of the man, and to drink +water from this fountain of state lore which had been so wonderfully +brought among them by their young townsman. Mrs. Finn was aware that +it behoved her to be chary of her invitations, but the lady from the +brewery had said such good things of Mrs. Finn’s black swan, that she +carried her point, and was invited to meet the Cabinet Minister at +dinner on the day after his arrival. + +Mrs. Flood Jones and her daughter were invited also to be of the +party. When Phineas had been last at Killaloe, Mrs. Flood Jones, +as the reader may remember, had remained with her daughter at +Floodborough,--feeling it to be her duty to keep her daughter away +from the danger of an unrequited attachment. But it seemed that +her purpose was changed now, or that she no longer feared the +danger,--for both Mary and her mother were now again living in +Killaloe, and Mary was at the doctor’s house as much as ever. + +A day or two before the coming of the god and the demigod to the +little town, Barbara Finn and her friend had thus come to understand +each other as they walked along the Shannon side. “I am sure, my +dear, that he is engaged to nobody,” said Barbara Finn. + +“And I am sure, my dear,” said Mary, “that I do not care whether he +is or is not.” + +“What do you mean, Mary?” + +“I mean what I say. Why should I care? Five years ago I had a foolish +dream, and now I am awake again. Think how old I have got to be!” + +“Yes;--you are twenty-three. What has that to do with it?” + +“It has this to do with it;--that I am old enough to know better. +Mamma and I quite understand each other. She used to be angry with +him, but she has got over all that foolishness now. It always made me +so vexed;--the idea of being angry with a man because,--because--! +You know one can’t talk about it, it is so foolish. But that is all +over now.” + +“Do you mean to say you don’t care for him, Mary? Do you remember +what you used to swear to me less than two years ago?” + +“I remember it all very well, and I remember what a goose I was. As +for caring for him, of course I do,--because he is your brother, and +because I have known him all my life. But if he were going to be +married to-morrow, you would see that it would make no difference to +me.” + +Barbara Finn walked on for a couple of minutes in silence before she +replied. “Mary,” she said at last, “I don’t believe a word of it.” + +“Very well;--then all that I shall ask of you is, that we may not +talk about him any more. Mamma believes it, and that is enough for +me.” Nevertheless, they did talk about Phineas during the whole of +that day, and very often talked about him afterwards, as long as Mary +remained at Killaloe. + +There was a large dinner party at the doctor’s on the day after Mr. +Monk’s arrival. The bishop was not there, though he was on terms +sufficiently friendly with the doctor’s family to have been invited +on so grand an occasion; but he was not there, because Mrs. Finn +was determined that she would be taken out to dinner by a Cabinet +Minister in the face of all her friends. She was aware that had the +bishop been there, she must have taken the bishop’s arm. And though +there would have been glory in that, the other glory was more to her +taste. It was the first time in her life that she had ever seen a +Cabinet Minister, and I think that she was a little disappointed at +finding him so like other middle-aged gentlemen. She had hoped that +Mr. Monk would have assumed something of the dignity of his position; +but he assumed nothing. Now the bishop, though he was a very mild +man, did assume something by the very facts of his apron and +knee-breeches. + +“I am sure, sir, it is very good of you to come and put up with our +humble way of living,” said Mrs. Finn to her guest, as they sat down +at table. And yet she had resolved that she would not make any speech +of the kind,--that she would condescend to no apology,--that she +would bear herself as though a Cabinet Minister dined with her at +least once a year. But when the moment came, she broke down, and made +this apology with almost abject meekness, and then hated herself +because she had done so. + +“My dear madam,” said Mr. Monk, “I live myself so much like a hermit +that your house is a palace of luxury to me.” Then he felt that he +had made a foolish speech, and he also hated himself. He found it +very difficult to talk to his hostess upon any subject, until by +chance he mentioned his young friend Phineas. Then her tongue was +unloosed. “Your son, madam,” he said, “is going with me to Limerick +and back to Dublin. It is a shame, I know, taking him so soon away +from home, but I should not know how to get on without him.” + +“Oh, Mr. Monk, it is such a blessing for him, and such an honour for +us, that you should be so good to him.” Then the mother spoke out +all her past fears and all her present hopes, and acknowledged the +great glory which it was to her to have a son sitting in Parliament, +holding an office with a stately name and a great salary, and blessed +with the friendship of such a man as Mr. Monk. After that Mr. Monk +got on better with her. + +“I don’t know any young man,” said he, “in whose career I have taken +so strong an interest.” + +“He was always good,” said Mrs. Finn, with a tear forcing itself into +the corner of each eye. “I am his mother, and of course I ought not +to say so,--not in this way; but it is true, Mr. Monk.” And then the +poor lady was obliged to raise her handkerchief and wipe away the +drops. + +Phineas on this occasion had taken out to dinner the mother of his +devoted Mary, Mrs. Flood Jones. “What a pleasure it must be to the +doctor and Mrs. Finn to see you come back in this way,” said Mrs. +Flood Jones. + +“With all my bones unbroken?” said he, laughing. + +“Yes; with all your bones unbroken. You know, Phineas, when we +first heard that you were to sit in Parliament, we were afraid that +you might break a rib or two,--since you choose to talk about the +breaking of bones.” + +“Yes, I know. Everybody thought I should come to grief; but nobody +felt so sure of it as I did myself.” + +“But you have not come to grief.” + +“I am not out of the wood yet, you know, Mrs. Flood Jones. There is +plenty of possibility for grief in my way still.” + +“As far as I can understand it, you are out of the wood. All that +your friends here want to see now is, that you should marry some nice +English girl, with a little money, if possible. Rumours have reached +us, you know.” + +“Rumours always lie,” said Phineas. + +“Sometimes they do, of course; and I am not going to ask any +indiscreet questions. But that is what we all hope. Mary was saying, +only the other day, that if you were once married, we should all +feel quite safe about you. And you know we all take the most lively +interest in your welfare. It is not every day that a man from County +Clare gets on as you have done, and therefore we are bound to think +of you.” Thus Mrs. Flood Jones signified to Phineas Finn that she had +forgiven him the thoughtlessness of his early youth,--even though +there had been something of treachery in that thoughtlessness to her +own daughter; and showed him, also, that whatever Mary’s feelings +might have been once, they were not now of a nature to trouble her. +“Of course you will marry?” said Mrs. Flood Jones. + +“I should think very likely not,” said Phineas, who perhaps looked +farther into the mind of the lady than the lady intended. + +“Oh, do,” said the lady. “Every man should marry as soon as he can, +and especially a man in your position.” + +When the ladies met together in the drawing-room after dinner, +it was impossible but that they should discuss Mr. Monk. There +was Mrs. Callaghan from the brewery there, and old Lady Blood, of +Bloodstone,--who on ordinary occasions would hardly admit that she +was on dining-out terms with any one in Killaloe except the bishop, +but who had found it impossible to decline to meet a Cabinet +Minister,--and there was Mrs. Stackpoole from Sixmiletown, a far-away +cousin of the Finns, who hated Lady Blood with a true provincial +hatred. + +“I don’t see anything particularly uncommon in him, after all,” said +Lady Blood. + +“I think he is very nice indeed,” said Mrs. Flood Jones. + +“So very quiet, my dear, and just like other people,” said Mrs. +Callaghan, meaning to pronounce a strong eulogium on the Cabinet +Minister. + +“Very like other people indeed,” said Lady Blood. + +“And what would you expect, Lady Blood?” said Mrs. Stackpoole. “Men +and women in London walk upon two legs, just as they do in Ennis.” +Now Lady Blood herself had been born and bred in Ennis, whereas Mrs. +Stackpoole had come from Limerick, which is a much more considerable +town, and therefore there was a satire in this allusion to the habits +of the men of Ennis which Lady Blood understood thoroughly. + +“My dear Mrs. Stackpoole, I know how the people walk in London quite +as well as you do.” Lady Blood had once passed three months in London +while Sir Patrick had been alive, whereas Mrs. Stackpoole had never +done more than visit the metropolis for a day or two. + +“Oh, no doubt,” said Mrs. Stackpoole; “but I never can understand +what it is that people expect. I suppose Mr. Monk ought to have +come with his stars on the breast of his coat, to have pleased Lady +Blood.” + +“My dear Mrs. Stackpoole, Cabinet Ministers don’t have stars,” said +Lady Blood. + +“I never said they did,” said Mrs. Stackpoole. + +“He is so nice and gentle to talk to,” said Mrs. Finn. “You may say +what you will, but men who are high up do very often give themselves +airs. Now I must say that this friend of my son’s does not do +anything of that kind.” + +“Not the least,” said Mrs. Callaghan. + +“Quite the contrary,” said Mrs. Stackpoole. + +“I dare say he is a wonderful man,” said Lady Blood. “All I say is, +that I didn’t hear anything wonderful come out of his mouth; and +as for people in Ennis walking on two legs, I have seen donkeys in +Limerick doing just the same thing.” Now it was well known that Mrs. +Stackpoole had two sons living in Limerick, as to neither of whom +was it expected that he would set the Shannon on fire. After this +little speech there was no further mention of Mr. Monk, as it became +necessary that all the good-nature of Mrs. Finn and all the tact +of Mrs. Flood Jones and all the energy of Mrs. Callaghan should be +used, to prevent the raging of an internecine battle between Mrs. +Stackpoole and Lady Blood. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVI + +Victrix + + +Mr. Monk’s holiday programme allowed him a week at Killaloe, and +from thence he was to go to Limerick, and from Limerick to Dublin, +in order that, at both places, he might be entertained at a public +dinner and make a speech about tenant-right. Foreseeing that Phineas +might commit himself if he attended these meetings, Mr. Monk had +counselled him to remain at Killaloe. But Phineas had refused to +subject himself to such cautious abstinence. Mr. Monk had come to +Ireland as his friend, and he would see him through his travels. “I +shall not, probably, be asked to speak,” said Phineas, “and if I am +asked, I need not say more than a few words. And what if I did speak +out?” + +“You might find it disadvantageous to you in London.” + +“I must take my chance of that. I am not going to tie myself down for +ever and ever for the sake of being Under-Secretary to the Colonies.” +Mr. Monk said very much to him on the subject,--was constantly saying +very much to him about it; but in spite of all that Mr. Monk said, +Phineas did make the journey to Limerick and Dublin. + +He had not, since his arrival at Killaloe, been a moment alone with +Mary Flood Jones till the evening before he started with Mr. Monk. +She had kept out of his way successfully, though she had constantly +been with him in company, and was beginning to plume herself on the +strength and valour of her conduct. But her self-praise had in it +nothing of joy, and her glory was very sad. Of course she would care +for him no more,--more especially as it was so very evident that he +cared not at all for her. But the very fact of her keeping out of +his way, made her acknowledge to herself that her position was very +miserable. She had declared to her mother that she might certainly +go to Killaloe with safety,--that it would be better for her to put +herself in the way of meeting him as an old friend,--that the idea of +the necessity of shutting herself up because of his approach, was the +one thing that gave her real pain. Therefore her mother had brought +her to Killaloe and she had met him; but her fancied security had +deserted her, and she found herself to be miserable, hoping for +something she did not know what, still dreaming of possibilities, +feeling during every moment of his presence with her that some +special conduct was necessary on her part. She could not make further +confession to her mother and ask to be carried back to Floodborough; +but she knew that she was very wretched at Killaloe. + +As for Phineas, he had felt that his old friend was very cold to him. +He was in that humour with reference to Violet Effingham which seemed +especially to require consolation. He knew now that all hope was +over there. Violet Effingham could never be his wife. Even were she +not to marry Lord Chiltern for the next five years, she would not, +during those five years, marry any other man. Such was our hero’s +conviction; and, suffering under this conviction, he was in want of +the comfort of feminine sympathy. Had Mary known all this, and had it +suited her to play such a part, I think she might have had Phineas +at her feet before he had been a week at home. But she had kept +aloof from him and had heard nothing of his sorrows. As a natural +consequence of this, Phineas was more in love with her than ever. + +On the evening before he started with Mr. Monk for Limerick, he +managed to be alone with her for a few minutes. Barbara may probably +have assisted in bringing about this arrangement, and had, perhaps, +been guilty of some treachery,--sisters in such circumstances will +sometimes be very treacherous to their friends. I feel sure, however, +that Mary herself was quite innocent of any guile in the matter. +“Mary,” Phineas said to her suddenly, “it seems to me that you have +avoided me purposely ever since I have been at home.” She smiled and +blushed, and stammered and said nothing. “Has there been any reason +for it, Mary?” + +“No reason at all that I know of,” she said. + +“We used to be such great friends.” + +“That was before you were a great man, Phineas. It must necessarily +be different now. You know so many people now, and people of such a +different sort, that of course I fall a little into the background.” + +“When you talk in that way, Mary, I know that you are laughing at +me.” + +“Indeed, indeed I am not.” + +“I believe there is no one in the whole world,” he said, after a +pause, “whose friendship is more to me than yours is. I think of it +so often, Mary. Say that when we come back it shall be between us as +it used to be.” Then he put out his hand for hers, and she could not +help giving it to him. “Of course there will be people,” he said, +“who talk nonsense, and one cannot help it; but I will not put up +with it from you.” + +“I did not mean to talk nonsense, Phineas!” Then there came some one +across them, and the conversation was ended; but the sound of his +voice remained on her ears, and she could not help but remember +that he had declared that her friendship was dearer to him than the +friendship of any one else. + +Phineas went with Mr. Monk first to Limerick and then to Dublin, and +found himself at both places to be regarded as a hero only second +to the great hero. At both places the one subject of debate was +tenant-right;--could anything be done to make it profitable for men +with capital to put their capital into Irish land? The fertility of +the soil was questioned by no one,--nor the sufficiency of external +circumstances, such as railroads and the like;--nor the abundance of +labour;--nor even security for the wealth to be produced. The only +difficulty was in this, that the men who were to produce the wealth +had no guarantee that it would be theirs when it was created. In +England and elsewhere such guarantees were in existence. Might it not +be possible to introduce them into Ireland? That was the question +which Mr. Monk had in hand; and in various speeches which he made +both before and after the dinners given to him, he pledged himself to +keep it well in hand when Parliament should meet. Of course Phineas +spoke also. It was impossible that he should be silent when his +friend and leader was pouring out his eloquence. Of course he spoke, +and of course he pledged himself. Something like the old pleasures +of the debating society returned to him, as standing upon a platform +before a listening multitude, he gave full vent to his words. In +the House of Commons, of late he had been so cabined, cribbed, and +confined by office as to have enjoyed nothing of this. Indeed, from +the commencement of his career, he had fallen so thoroughly into the +decorum of Government ways, as to have missed altogether the delights +of that wild irresponsible oratory of which Mr. Monk had spoken +to him so often. He had envied men below the gangway, who, though +supporting the Government on main questions, could get up on their +legs whenever the House was full enough to make it worth their while, +and say almost whatever they pleased. There was that Mr. Robson, who +literally did say just what came uppermost; and the thing that came +uppermost was often ill-natured, often unbecoming the gravity of the +House, was always startling; but men listened to him and liked him to +speak. But Mr. Robson had--married a woman with money. Oh, why,--why, +had not Violet Effingham been kinder to him? He might even yet, +perhaps, marry a woman with money. But he could not bring himself to +do so unless he loved her. + +The upshot of the Dublin meeting was that he also positively pledged +himself to support during the next session of Parliament a bill +advocating tenant-right. “I am sorry you went so far as that,” Mr. +Monk said to him almost as soon as the meeting was over. They were +standing on the pier at Kingstown, and Mr. Monk was preparing to +return to England. + +“And why not I as far as you?” + +“Because I had thought about it, and I do not think that you have. I +am prepared to resign my office to-morrow; and directly that I can +see Mr. Gresham and explain to him what I have done, I shall offer to +do so.” + +“He won’t accept your resignation.” + +“He must accept it, unless he is prepared to instruct the Irish +Secretary to bring in such a bill as I can support.” + +“I shall be exactly in the same boat.” + +“But you ought not to be in the same boat;--nor need you. My advice +to you is to say nothing about it till you get back to London, and +then speak to Lord Cantrip. Tell him that you will not say anything +on the subject in the House, but that in the event of there being a +division you hope to be allowed to vote as on an open question. It +may be that I shall get Gresham’s assent, and if so we shall be all +right. If I do not, and if they choose to make it a point with you, +you must resign also.” + +“Of course I shall,” said Phineas. + +“But I do not think they will. You have been too useful, and they +will wish to avoid the weakness which comes to a ministry from +changing its team. Good-bye, my dear fellow; and remember this,--my +last word of advice to you is to stick by the ship. I am quite sure +it is a career which will suit you. I did not begin it soon enough.” + +Phineas was rather melancholy as he returned alone to Killaloe. It +was all very well to bid him stick to the ship, and he knew as well +as any one could tell him how material the ship was to him; but there +are circumstances in which a man cannot stick to his ship,--cannot +stick, at least, to this special Government ship. He knew that +whither Mr. Monk went, in this session, he must follow. He had +considerable hope that when Mr. Monk explained his purpose to the +Prime Minister, the Prime Minister would feel himself obliged to give +way. In that case Phineas would not only be able to keep his office, +but would have such an opportunity of making a speech in Parliament +as circumstances had never yet given to him. When he was again at +home he said nothing to his father or to the Killaloeians as to the +danger of his position. Of what use would it be to make his mother +and sisters miserable, or to incur the useless counsels of the +doctor? They seemed to think his speech at Dublin very fine, and were +never tired of talking of what Mr. Monk and Phineas were going to do; +but the idea had not come home to them that if Mr. Monk or Phineas +chose to do anything on their own account, they must give up the +places which they held under the Crown. + +It was September when Phineas found himself back at Killaloe, and he +was due to be at his office in London in November. The excitement +of Mr. Monk’s company was now over, and he had nothing to do but to +receive pouches full of official papers from the Colonial Office, and +study all the statistics which came within his reach in reference to +the proposed new law for tenant-right. In the meantime Mary was still +living with her mother at Killaloe, and still kept herself somewhat +aloof from the man she loved. How could it be possible for him not to +give way in such circumstances as those? + +One day he found himself talking to her about himself, and speaking +to her of his own position with more frankness than he ever used with +his own family. He had begun by reminding her of that conversation +which they had had before he went away with Mr. Monk, and by +reminding her also that she had promised to return to her old +friendly ways with him. + +“Nay, Phineas; there was no promise,” she said. + +“And are we not to be friends?” + +“I only say that I made no particular promise. Of course we are +friends. We have always been friends.” + +“What would you say if you heard that I had resigned my office and +given up my seat?” he asked. Of course she expressed her surprise, +almost her horror, at such an idea, and then he told her everything. +It took long in the telling, because it was necessary that he should +explain to her the working of the system which made it impossible for +him, as a member of the Government, to entertain an opinion of his +own. + +“And do you mean that you would lose your salary?” she asked. + +“Certainly I should.” + +“Would not that be very dreadful?” + +He laughed as he acknowledged that it would be dreadful. “It is very +dreadful, Mary, to have nothing to eat and drink. But what is a man +to do? Would you recommend me to say that black is white?” + +“I am sure you will never do that.” + +“You see, Mary, it is very nice to be called by a big name and to +have a salary, and it is very comfortable to be envied by one’s +friends and enemies;--but there are drawbacks. There is this especial +drawback.” Then he paused for a moment before he went on. + +“What especial drawback, Phineas?” + +“A man cannot do what he pleases with himself. How can a man marry, +so circumstanced as I am?” + +She hesitated for a moment, and then she answered him,--“A man may be +very happy without marrying, I suppose.” + +He also paused for many moments before he spoke again, and she then +made a faint attempt to escape from him. But before she succeeded he +had asked her a question which arrested her. “I wonder whether you +would listen to me if I were to tell you a history?” Of course she +listened, and the history he told her was the tale of his love for +Violet Effingham. + +“And she has money of her own?” Mary asked. + +“Yes;--she is rich. She has a large fortune.” + +“Then, Mr. Finn, you must seek some one else who is equally blessed.” + +“Mary, that is untrue,--that is ill-natured. You do not mean that. +Say that you do not mean it. You have not believed that I loved Miss +Effingham because she was rich.” + +“But you have told me that you could love no one who is not rich.” + +“I have said nothing of the kind. Love is involuntary. It does not +often run in a yoke with prudence. I have told you my history as +far as it is concerned with Violet Effingham. I did love her very +dearly.” + +“Did love her, Mr. Finn?” + +“Yes;--did love her. Is there any inconstancy in ceasing to love when +one is not loved? Is there inconstancy in changing one’s love, and in +loving again?” + +“I do not know,” said Mary, to whom the occasion was becoming so +embarrassing that she no longer was able to reply with words that had +a meaning in them. + +“If there be, dear, I am inconstant.” He paused, but of course she +had not a syllable to say. “I have changed my love. But I could not +speak of a new passion till I had told the story of that which has +passed away. You have heard it all now, Mary. Can you try to love me, +after that?” It had come at last,--the thing for which she had been +ever wishing. It had come in spite of her imprudence, and in spite of +her prudence. When she had heard him to the end she was not a whit +angry with him,--she was not in the least aggrieved,--because he had +been lost to her in his love for this Miss Effingham, while she had +been so nearly lost by her love for him. For women such episodes +in the lives of their lovers have an excitement which is almost +pleasurable, whereas each man is anxious to hear his lady swear that +until he appeared upon the scene her heart had been fancy free. Mary, +upon the whole, had liked the story,--had thought that it had been +finely told, and was well pleased with the final catastrophe. But, +nevertheless, she was not prepared with her reply. “Have you no +answer to give me, Mary?” he said, looking up into her eyes. I am +afraid that he did not doubt what would be her answer,--as it would +be good that all lovers should do. “You must vouchsafe me some word, +Mary.” + +When she essayed to speak she found that she was dumb. She could not +get her voice to give her the assistance of a single word. She did +not cry, but there was a motion as of sobbing in her throat which +impeded all utterance. She was as happy as earth,--as heaven could +make her; but she did not know how to tell him that she was happy. +And yet she longed to tell it, that he might know how thankful she +was to him for his goodness. He still sat looking at her, and now by +degrees he had got her hand in his. “Mary,” he said, “will you be my +wife,--my own wife?” + +When half an hour had passed, they were still together, and now she +had found the use of her tongue. “Do whatever you like best,” she +said. “I do not care which you do. If you came to me to-morrow and +told me you had no income, it would make no difference. Though to +love you and to have your love is all the world to me,--though it +makes all the difference between misery and happiness,--I would +sooner give up that than be a clog on you.” Then he took her in his +arms and kissed her. “Oh, Phineas!” she said, “I do love you so +entirely!” + +“My own one!” + +“Yes; your own one. But if you had known it always! Never mind. Now +you are my own,--are you not?” + +“Indeed yes, dearest.” + +“Oh, what a thing it is to be victorious at last.” + +“What on earth are you two doing here these two hours together?” said +Barbara, bursting into the room. + +“What are we doing?” said Phineas. + +“Yes;--what are you doing?” + +“Nothing in particular,” said Mary. + +“Nothing at all in particular,” said Phineas. “Only this,--that we +have engaged ourselves to marry each other. It is quite a trifle,--is +it not, Mary?” + +“Oh, Barbara!” said the joyful girl, springing forward into her +friend’s arms; “I do believe I am the happiest creature on the face +of this earth!” + + + + +CHAPTER LXVII + +Job’s Comforters + + +Before Phineas had returned to London his engagement with Mary Flood +Jones was known to all his family, was known to Mrs. Flood Jones, and +was indeed known generally to all Killaloe. That other secret of his, +which had reference to the probability of his being obliged to throw +up his office, was known only to Mary herself. He thought that he had +done all that honour required of him in telling her of his position +before he had proposed;--so that she might on that ground refuse +him if she were so minded. And yet he had known very well that such +prudence on her part was not to be expected. If she loved him, of +course she would say so when she was asked. And he had known that +she loved him. “There may be delay, Mary,” he said to her as he was +going; “nay, there must be delay, if I am obliged to resign.” + +“I do not care a straw for delay if you will be true to me,” she +said. + +“Do you doubt my truth, dearest?” + +“Not in the least. I will swear by it as the one thing that is truest +in the world.” + +“You may, dearest. And if this should come to pass I must go to work +and put my shoulder to the wheel, and earn an income for you by my +old profession before I can make you my wife. With such a motive +before me I know that I shall earn an income.” And thus they parted. +Mary, though of course she would have preferred that her future +husband should remain in his high office, that he should be a member +of Parliament and an Under-Secretary of State, admitted no doubt +into her mind to disturb her happiness; and Phineas, though he had +many misgivings as to the prudence of what he had done, was not the +less strong in his resolution of constancy and endurance. He would +throw up his position, resign his seat, and go to work at the Bar +instantly, if he found that his independence as a man required him to +do so. And, above all, let come what might, he would be true to Mary +Flood Jones. + +December was half over before he saw Lord Cantrip. “Yes,--yes;” said +Lord Cantrip, when the Under-Secretary began to tell his story; “I +saw what you were about. I wish I had been at your elbow.” + +“If you knew the country as I know it, you would be as eager about it +as I am.” + +“Then I can only say that I am very glad that I do not know the +country as you know it. You see, Finn, it’s my idea that if a man +wants to make himself useful he should stick to some special kind of +work. With you it’s a thousand pities that you should not do so.” + +“You think, then, I ought to resign?” + +“I don’t say anything about that. As you wish it, of course I’ll +speak to Gresham. Monk, I believe, has resigned already.” + +“He has written to me, and told me so,” said Phineas. + +“I always felt afraid of him for your sake, Finn. Mr. Monk is a +clever man, and as honest a man as any in the House, but I always +thought that he was a dangerous friend for you. However, we will see. +I will speak to Gresham after Christmas. There is no hurry about it.” + +When Parliament met the first great subject of interest was the +desertion of Mr. Monk from the Ministry. He at once took his place +below the gangway, sitting as it happened exactly in front of Mr. +Turnbull, and there he made his explanation. Some one opposite asked +a question whether a certain right honourable gentleman had not left +the Cabinet. Then Mr. Gresham replied that to his infinite regret his +right honourable friend, who lately presided at the Board of Trade, +had resigned; and he went on to explain that this resignation had, +according to his ideas, been quite unnecessary. His right honourable +friend entertained certain ideas about Irish tenant-right, as to +which he himself and his right honourable friend the Secretary for +Ireland could not exactly pledge themselves to be in unison with him; +but he had thought that the motion might have rested at any rate over +this session. Then Mr. Monk explained, making his first great speech +on Irish tenant-right. He found himself obliged to advocate some +immediate measure for giving security to the Irish farmer; and as he +could not do so as a member of the Cabinet, he was forced to resign +the honour of that position. He said something also as to the great +doubt which had ever weighed on his own mind as to the inexpediency +of a man at his time of life submitting himself for the first time +to the trammels of office. This called up Mr. Turnbull, who took +the opportunity of saying that he now agreed cordially with his old +friend for the first time since that old friend had listened to the +blandishments of the ministerial seducer, and that he welcomed his +old friend back to those independent benches with great satisfaction. +In this way the debate was very exciting. Nothing was said which made +it then necessary for Phineas to get upon his legs or to declare +himself; but he perceived that the time would rapidly come in which +he must do so. Mr. Gresham, though he strove to speak with gentle +words, was evidently very angry with the late President of the Board +of Trade; and, moreover, it was quite clear that a bill would be +introduced by Mr. Monk himself, which Mr. Gresham was determined +to oppose. If all this came to pass and there should be a close +division, Phineas felt that his fate would be sealed. When he again +spoke to Lord Cantrip on the subject, the Secretary of State shrugged +his shoulders and shook his head. “I can only advise you,” said Lord +Cantrip, “to forget all that took place in Ireland. If you will do +so, nobody else will remember it.” “As if it were possible to forget +such things,” he said in the letter which he wrote to Mary that +night. “Of course I shall go now. If it were not for your sake, I +should not in the least regret it.” + +He had been with Madame Goesler frequently in the winter, and had +discussed with her so often the question of his official position +that she had declared that she was coming at last to understand the +mysteries of an English Cabinet. “I think you are quite right, my +friend,” she said,--“quite right. What--you are to be in Parliament +and say that this black thing is white, or that this white thing is +black, because you like to take your salary! That cannot be honest!” +Then, when he came to talk to her of money,--that he must give up +Parliament itself, if he gave up his place,--she offered to lend him +money. “Why should you not treat me as a friend?” she said. When he +pointed out to her that there would never come a time in which he +could pay such money back, she stamped her foot and told him that +he had better leave her. “You have high principle,” she said, “but +not principle sufficiently high to understand that this thing could +be done between you and me without disgrace to either of us.” Then +Phineas assured her with tears in his eyes that such an arrangement +was impossible without disgrace to him. + +But he whispered to this new friend no word of the engagement with +his dear Irish Mary. His Irish life, he would tell himself, was a +thing quite apart and separate from his life in England. He said not +a word about Mary Flood Jones to any of those with whom he lived +in London. Why should he, feeling as he did that it would so soon +be necessary that he should disappear from among them? About Miss +Effingham he had said much to Madame Goesler. She had asked him +whether he had abandoned all hope. “That affair, then, is over?” she +had said. + +“Yes;--it is all over now.” + +“And she will marry the red-headed, violent lord?” + +“Heaven knows. I think she will. But she is exactly the girl to +remain unmarried if she takes it into her head that the man she likes +is in any way unfitted for her.” + +“Does she love this lord?” + +“Oh yes;--there is no doubt of that.” And Phineas, as he made this +acknowledgment, seemed to do so without much inward agony of soul. +When he had been last in London he could not speak of Violet and Lord +Chiltern together without showing that his misery was almost too much +for him. + +At this time he received some counsel from two friends. One was +Laurence Fitzgibbon, and the other was Barrington Erle. Laurence had +always been true to him after a fashion, and had never resented his +intrusion at the Colonial Office. “Phineas, me boy,” he said, “if all +this is thrue, you’re about up a tree.” + +“It is true that I shall support Monk’s motion.” + +“Then, me boy, you’re up a tree as far as office goes. A place like +that niver suited me, because, you see, that poker of a young lord +expected so much of a man; but you don’t mind that kind of thing, and +I thought you were as snug as snug.” + +“Troubles will come, you see, Laurence.” + +“Bedad, yes. It’s all throubles, I think, sometimes. But you’ve a way +out of all your throubles.” + +“What way?” + +“Pop the question to Madame Max. The money’s all thrue, you know.” + +“I don’t doubt the money in the least,” said Phineas. + +“And it’s my belief she’ll take you without a second word. Anyways, +thry it, Phinny, my boy. That’s my advice.” Phineas so far agreed +with his friend Laurence that he thought it possible that Madame +Goesler might accept him were he to propose marriage to her. He knew, +of course, that that mode of escape from his difficulties was out +of the question for him, but he could not explain this to Laurence +Fitzgibbon. + +“I am sorry to hear that you have taken up a bad cause,” said +Barrington Erle to him. + +“It is a pity;--is it not?” + +“And the worst of it is that you’ll sacrifice yourself and do no good +to the cause. I never knew a man break away in this fashion, and not +feel afterwards that he had done it all for nothing.” + +“But what is a man to do, Barrington? He can’t smother his +convictions.” + +“Convictions! There is nothing on earth that I’m so much afraid of in +a young member of Parliament as convictions. There are ever so many +rocks against which men get broken. One man can’t keep his temper. +Another can’t hold his tongue. A third can’t say a word unless he has +been priming himself half a session. A fourth is always thinking of +himself, and wanting more than he can get. A fifth is idle, and won’t +be there when he’s wanted. A sixth is always in the way. A seventh +lies so that you never can trust him. I’ve had to do with them all, +but a fellow with convictions is the worst of all.” + +“I don’t see how a fellow is to help himself,” said Phineas. “When a +fellow begins to meddle with politics they will come.” + +“Why can’t you grow into them gradually as your betters and elders +have done before you? It ought to be enough for any man, when he +begins, to know that he’s a Liberal. He understands which side of the +House he’s to vote, and who is to lead him. What’s the meaning of +having a leader to a party, if it’s not that? Do you think that you +and Mr. Monk can go and make a government between you?” + +“Whatever I think, I’m sure he doesn’t.” + +“I’m not so sure of that. But look here, Phineas, I don’t care two +straws about Monk’s going. I always thought that Mildmay and the +Duke were wrong when they asked him to join. I knew he’d go over the +traces,--unless, indeed, he took his money and did nothing for it, +which is the way with some of those Radicals. I look upon him as +gone.” + +“He has gone.” + +“The devil go along with him, as you say in Ireland. But don’t you be +such a fool as to ruin yourself for a crotchet of Monk’s. It isn’t +too late yet for you to hold back. To tell you the truth, Gresham +has said a word to me about it already. He is most anxious that you +should stay, but of course you can’t stay and vote against us.” + +“Of course I cannot.” + +“I look upon you, you know, as in some sort my own child. I’ve tried +to bring other fellows forward who seemed to have something in them, +but I have never succeeded as I have with you. You’ve hit the thing +off, and have got the ball at your foot. Upon my honour, in the whole +course of my experience I have never known such good fortune as +yours.” + +“And I shall always remember how it began, Barrington,” said Phineas, +who was greatly moved by the energy and solicitude of his friend. + +“But, for God’s sake, don’t go and destroy it all by such mad +perversity as this. They mean to do something next session. Morrison +is going to take it up.” Sir Walter Morrison was at this time +Secretary for Ireland. “But of course we can’t let a fellow like Monk +take the matter into his own hands just when he pleases. I call it +d----d treachery.” + +“Monk is no traitor, Barrington.” + +“Men will have their own opinions about that. It’s generally +understood that when a man is asked to take a seat in the Cabinet he +is expected to conform with his colleagues, unless something very +special turns up. But I am speaking of you now, and not of Monk. You +are not a man of fortune. You cannot afford to make ducks and drakes. +You are excellently placed, and you have plenty of time to hark back, +if you’ll only listen to reason. All that Irish stump balderdash will +never be thrown in your teeth by us, if you will just go on as though +it had never been uttered.” + +Phineas could only thank his friend for his advice, which was at +least disinterested, and was good of its kind, and tell him that he +would think of it. He did think of it very much. He almost thought +that, were it to do again, he would allow Mr. Monk to go upon his +tour alone, and keep himself from the utterance of anything that so +good a judge as Erle could call stump balderdash. As he sat in his +arm-chair in his room at the Colonial Office, with despatch-boxes +around him, and official papers spread before him,--feeling himself +to be one of those who in truth managed and governed the affairs of +this great nation, feeling also that if he relinquished his post now +he could never regain it,--he did wish that he had been a little less +in love with independence, a little quieter in his boastings that no +official considerations should ever silence his tongue. But all this +was too late now. He knew that his skin was not thick enough to bear +the arrows of those archers who would bend their bows against him if +he should now dare to vote against Mr. Monk’s motion. His own party +might be willing to forgive and forget; but there would be others who +would read those reports, and would appear in the House with the +odious tell-tale newspapers in their hands. + +Then he received a letter from his father. Some good-natured person +had enlightened the doctor as to the danger in which his son +was placing himself. Dr. Finn, who in his own profession was a +very excellent and well-instructed man, had been so ignorant of +Parliamentary tactics, as to have been proud at his son’s success at +the Irish meetings. He had thought that Phineas was carrying on his +trade as a public speaker with proper energy and continued success. +He had cared nothing himself for tenant-right, and had acknowledged +to Mr. Monk that he could not understand in what it was that the +farmers were wronged. But he knew that Mr. Monk was a Cabinet +Minister, and he thought that Phineas was earning his salary. Then +there came some one who undeceived him, and the paternal bosom of +the doctor was dismayed. “I don’t mean to interfere,” he said in his +letter, “but I can hardly believe that you really intend to resign +your place. Yet I am told that you must do so if you go on with this +matter. My dear boy, pray think about it. I cannot imagine you are +disposed to lose all that you have won for nothing.” Mary also wrote +to him. Mrs. Finn had been talking to her, and Mary had taught +herself to believe that after the many sweet conversations she +had had with a man so high in office as Phineas, she really did +understand something about the British Government. Mrs. Finn had +interrogated Mary, and Mary had been obliged to own that it was quite +possible that Phineas would be called upon to resign. + +“But why, my dear? Heaven and earth! Resign two thousand a year!” + +“That he may maintain his independence,” said Mary proudly. + +“Fiddlestick!” said Mrs. Finn. “How is he to maintain you, or himself +either, if he goes on in that way? I shouldn’t wonder if he didn’t +get himself all wrong, even now.” Then Mrs. Finn began to cry; and +Mary could only write to her lover, pointing out to him how very +anxious all his friends were that he should do nothing in a hurry. +But what if the thing were done already! Phineas in his great +discomfort went to seek further counsel from Madame Goesler. Of all +his counsellors, Madame Goesler was the only one who applauded him +for what he was about to do. + +“But, after all, what is it you give up? Mr. Gresham may be out +to-morrow, and then where will be your place?” + +“There does not seem to be much chance of that at present.” + +“Who can tell? Of course I do not understand,--but it was only the +other day when Mr. Mildmay was there, and only the day before that +when Lord de Terrier was there, and again only the day before +that when Lord Brock was there.” Phineas endeavoured to make her +understand that of the four Prime Ministers whom she had named, three +were men of the same party as himself, under whom it would have +suited him to serve. “I would not serve under any man if I were an +English gentleman in Parliament,” said Madame Goesler. + +“What is a poor fellow to do?” said Phineas, laughing. + +“A poor fellow need not be a poor fellow unless he likes,” said +Madame Goesler. Immediately after this Phineas left her, and as he +went along the street he began to question himself whether the +prospects of his own darling Mary were at all endangered by his +visits to Park Lane; and to reflect what sort of a blackguard he +would be,--a blackguard of how deep a dye,--were he to desert Mary +and marry Madame Max Goesler. Then he also asked himself as to the +nature and quality of his own political honesty if he were to abandon +Mary in order that he might maintain his parliamentary independence. +After all, if it should ever come to pass that his biography should +be written, his biographer would say very much more about the manner +in which he kept his seat in Parliament than of the manner in which +he kept his engagement with Miss Mary Flood Jones. Half a dozen +people who knew him and her might think ill of him for his conduct +to Mary, but the world would not condemn him! And when he thundered +forth his liberal eloquence from below the gangway as an independent +member, having the fortune of his charming wife to back him, giving +excellent dinners at the same time in Park Lane, would not the world +praise him very loudly? + +When he got to his office he found a note from Lord Brentford +inviting him to dine in Portman Square. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVIII + +The Joint Attack + + +The note from Lord Brentford surprised our hero not a little. He had +had no communication with the Earl since the day on which he had been +so savagely scolded about the duel, when the Earl had plainly told +him that his conduct had been as bad as it could be. Phineas had not +on that account become at all ashamed of his conduct in reference to +the duel, but he had conceived that any reconciliation between him +and the Earl had been out of the question. Now there had come a +civilly-worded invitation, asking him to dine with the offended +nobleman. The note had been written by Lady Laura, but it had +purported to come from Lord Brentford himself. He sent back word to +say that he should be happy to have the honour of dining with Lord +Brentford. + +Parliament at this time had been sitting nearly a month, and it was +already March. Phineas had heard nothing of Lady Laura, and did not +even know that she was in London till he saw her handwriting. He did +not know that she had not gone back to her husband, and that she had +remained with her father all the winter at Saulsby. He had also +heard that Lord Chiltern had been at Saulsby. All the world had been +talking of the separation of Mr. Kennedy from his wife, one half of +the world declaring that his wife, if not absolutely false to him, +had neglected all her duties; and the other half asserting that Mr. +Kennedy’s treatment of his wife had been so bad that no woman could +possibly have lived with him. There had even been a rumour that Lady +Laura had gone off with a lover from the Duke of Omnium’s garden +party, and some indiscreet tongue had hinted that a certain unmarried +Under-Secretary of State was missing at the same time. But Lord +Chiltern upon this had shown his teeth with so strong a propensity to +do some real biting, that no one had ventured to repeat that rumour. +Its untruth was soon established by the fact that Lady Laura Kennedy +was living with her father at Saulsby. Of Mr. Kennedy, Phineas had as +yet seen nothing since he had been up in town. That gentleman, though +a member of the Cabinet, had not been in London at the opening of the +session, nor had he attended the Cabinet meetings during the recess. +It had been stated in the newspapers that he was ill, and stated in +private that he could not bear to show himself since his wife had +left him. At last, however, he came to London, and Phineas saw him in +the House. Then, when the first meeting of the Cabinet was summoned +after his return, it became known that he also had resigned his +office. There was nothing said about his resignation in the House. He +had resigned on the score of ill-health, and that very worthy peer, +Lord Mount Thistle, formerly Sir Marmaduke Morecombe, came back to +the Duchy of Lancaster in his place. A Prime Minister sometimes finds +great relief in the possession of a serviceable stick who can be made +to go in and out as occasion may require; only it generally happens +that the stick will expect some reward when he is made to go out. +Lord Mount Thistle immediately saw his way to a viscount’s coronet, +when he was once more summoned to the august councils of the +Ministers. + +A few days after this had been arranged, in the interval between +Lord Brentford’s invitation and Lord Brentford’s dinner, Phineas +encountered Mr. Kennedy so closely in one of the passages of the +House that it was impossible that they should not speak to each +other, unless they were to avoid each other as people do who have +palpably quarrelled. Phineas saw that Mr. Kennedy was hesitating, and +therefore took the bull by the horns. He greeted his former friend +in a friendly fashion, shaking him by the hand, and then prepared +to pass on. But Mr. Kennedy, though he had hesitated at first, now +detained his brother member. “Finn,” he said, “if you are not engaged +I should like to speak to you for a moment.” Phineas was not engaged, +and allowed himself to be led out arm-in-arm by the late Chancellor +of the Duchy into Westminster Hall. “Of course you know what a +terrible thing has happened to me,” said Mr. Kennedy. + +“Yes;--I have heard of it,” said Phineas. + +“Everybody has heard of it. That is one of the terrible cruelties of +such a blow.” + +“All those things are very bad of course. I was very much +grieved,--because you have both been intimate friends of mine.” + +“Yes,--yes; we were. Do you ever see her now?” + +“Not since last July,--at the Duke’s party, you know.” + +“Ah, yes; the morning of that day was the last on which I spoke to +her. It was then she left me.” + +“I am going to dine with Lord Brentford to-morrow, and I dare say she +will be there.” + +“Yes;--she is in town. I saw her yesterday in her father’s carriage. +I think that she had no cause to leave me.” + +“Of course I cannot say anything about that.” + +“I think she had no cause to leave me.” Phineas as he heard this +could not but remember all that Lady Laura had told himself, and +thought that no woman had ever had a better reason for leaving her +husband. “There were things I did not like, and I said so.” + +“I suppose that is generally the way,” replied Phineas. + +“But surely a wife should listen to a word of caution from her +husband.” + +“I fancy they never like it,” said Phineas. + +“But are we all of us to have all that we like? I have not found it +so. Or would it be good for us if we had?” Then he paused; but as +Phineas had no further remark to make, he continued speaking after +they had walked about a third of the length of the hall. “It is not +of my own comfort I am thinking now so much as of her name and her +future conduct. Of course it will in every sense be best for her that +she should come back to her husband’s roof.” + +“Well; yes;--perhaps it would,” said Phineas. + +“Has she not accepted that lot for better or for worse?” said Mr. +Kennedy, solemnly. + +“But incompatibility of temper, you know, is always,--always +supposed--. You understand me?” + +“It is my intention that she should come back to me. I do not wish to +make any legal demand;--at any rate, not as yet. Will you consent to +be the bearer of a message from me both to herself and to the Earl?” + +Now it seemed to Phineas that of all the messengers whom Mr. Kennedy +could have chosen he was the most unsuited to be a Mercury in this +cause,--not perceiving that he had been so selected with some craft, +in order that Lady Laura might understand that the accusation against +her was, at any rate, withdrawn, which had named Phineas as her +lover. He paused again before he answered. “Of course,” he said, “I +should be most willing to be of service, if it were possible. But I +do not see how I can speak to the Earl about it. Though I am going to +dine with him I don’t know why he has asked me;--for he and I are on +very bad terms. He heard that stupid story about the duel, and has +not spoken to me since.” + +“I heard that, too,” said Mr. Kennedy, frowning blackly as he +remembered his wife’s duplicity. + +“Everybody heard of it. But it has made such a difference between him +and me, that I don’t think I can meddle. Send for Lord Chiltern, and +speak to him.” + +“Speak to Chiltern! Never! He would probably strike me on the head +with his club.” + +“Call on the Earl yourself.” + +“I did, and he would not see me.” + +“Write to him.” + +“I did, and he sent back my letter unopened.” + +“Write to her.” + +“I did;--and she answered me, saying only thus; ‘Indeed, indeed, it +cannot be so.’ But it must be so. The laws of God require it, and the +laws of man permit it. I want some one to point out that to them more +softly than I could do if I were simply to write to that effect. To +the Earl, of course, I cannot write again.” The conference ended by a +promise from Phineas that he would, if possible, say a word to Lady +Laura. + +When he was shown into Lord Brentford’s drawing-room he found not +only Lady Laura there, but her brother. Lord Brentford was not in +the room. Barrington Erle was there, and so also were Lord and Lady +Cantrip. + +“Is not your father going to be here?” he said to Lady Laura, after +their first greeting. + +“We live in that hope,” said she, “and do not at all know why he +should be late. What has become of him, Oswald?” + +“He came in with me half an hour ago, and I suppose he does not +dress as quickly as I do,” said Lord Chiltern; upon which Phineas +immediately understood that the father and the son were reconciled, +and he rushed to the conclusion that Violet and her lover would also +soon be reconciled, if such were not already the case. He felt some +remnant of a soreness that it should be so, as a man feels where +his headache has been when the real ache itself has left him. Then +the host came in and made his apologies. “Chiltern kept me standing +about,” he said, “till the east wind had chilled me through and +through. The only charm I recognise in youth is that it is impervious +to the east wind.” Phineas felt quite sure now that Violet and her +lover were reconciled, and he had a distinct feeling of the place +where the ache had been. Dear Violet! But, after all, Violet lacked +that sweet, clinging, feminine softness which made Mary Flood Jones +so pre-eminently the most charming of her sex. The Earl, when he had +repeated his general apology, especially to Lady Cantrip, who was the +only lady present except his daughter, came up to our hero and shook +him kindly by the hand. He took him up to one of the windows and then +addressed him in a voice of mock solemnity. + +“Stick to the colonies, young man,” he said, “and never meddle with +foreign affairs;--especially not at Blankenberg.” + +“Never again, my Lord;--never again.” + +“And leave all questions of fire-arms to be arranged between the +Horse Guards and the War Office. I have heard a good deal about it +since I saw you, and I retract a part of what I said. But a duel is a +foolish thing,--a very foolish thing. Come;--here is dinner.” And the +Earl walked off with Lady Cantrip, and Lord Cantrip walked off with +Lady Laura. Barrington Erle followed, and Phineas had an opportunity +of saying a word to his friend, Lord Chiltern, as they went down +together. + +“It’s all right between you and your father?” + +“Yes;--after a fashion. There is no knowing how long it will last. He +wants me to do three things, and I won’t do any one of them.” + +“What are the three?” + +“To go into Parliament, to be an owner of sheep and oxen, and to hunt +in his own county. I should never attend the first, I should ruin +myself with the second, and I should never get a run in the third.” +But there was not a word said about his marriage. + +There were only seven who sat down to dinner, and the six were all +people with whom Phineas was or had been on most intimate terms. +Lord Cantrip was his official chief, and, since that connection had +existed between them, Lady Cantrip had been very gracious to him. +She quite understood the comfort which it was to her husband to have +under him, as his representative in the House of Commons, a man whom +he could thoroughly trust and like, and therefore she had used her +woman’s arts to bind Phineas to her lord in more than mere official +bondage. She had tried her skill also upon Laurence Fitzgibbon,--but +altogether in vain. He had eaten her dinners and accepted her +courtesies, and had given for them no return whatever. But Phineas +had possessed a more grateful mind, and had done all that had been +required of him;--had done all that had been required of him till +there had come that terrible absurdity in Ireland. “I knew very well +what sort of things would happen when they brought such a man as Mr. +Monk into the Cabinet,” Lady Cantrip had said to her husband. + +But though the party was very small, and though the guests were all +his intimate friends, Phineas suspected nothing special till an +attack was made upon him as soon as the servants had left the room. +This was done in the presence of the two ladies, and, no doubt, had +been preconcerted. There was Lord Cantrip there, who had already said +much to him, and Barrington Erle who had said more even than Lord +Cantrip. Lord Brentford, himself a member of the Cabinet, opened the +attack by asking whether it was actually true that Mr. Monk meant +to go on with his motion. Barrington Erle asserted that Mr. Monk +positively would do so. “And Gresham will oppose it?” asked the Earl. +“Of course he will,” said Barrington. “Of course he will,” said Lord +Cantrip. “I know what I should think of him if he did not,” said Lady +Cantrip. “He is the last man in the world to be forced into a thing,” +said Lady Laura. Then Phineas knew pretty well what was coming on +him. + +Lord Brentford began again by asking how many supporters Mr. Monk +would have in the House. “That depends upon the amount of courage +which the Conservatives may have,” said Barrington Erle. “If they +dare to vote for a thoroughly democratic measure, simply for the sake +of turning us out, it is quite on the cards that they may succeed.” +“But of our own people?” asked Lord Cantrip. “You had better inquire +that of Phineas Finn,” said Barrington. And then the attack was made. + +Our hero had a bad half hour of it, though many words were said which +must have gratified him much. They all wanted to keep him,--so Lord +Cantrip declared, “except one or two whom I could name, and who are +particularly anxious to wear his shoes,” said Barrington, thinking +that certain reminiscences of Phineas with regard to Mr. Bonteen +and others might operate as strongly as any other consideration to +make him love his place. Lord Brentford declared that he could not +understand it,--that he should find himself lost in amazement if such +a man as his young friend allowed himself to be led into the outer +wilderness by such an ignis-fatuus of light as this. Lord Cantrip +laid down the unwritten traditional law of Government officials very +plainly. A man in office,--in an office which really imposed upon +him as much work as he could possibly do with credit to himself or +his cause,--was dispensed from the necessity of a conscience with +reference to other matters. It was for Sir Walter Morrison to have +a conscience about Irish tenant-right, as no doubt he had,--just as +Phineas Finn had a conscience about Canada, and Jamaica, and the +Cape. Barrington Erle was very strong about parties in general, and +painted the comforts of official position in glowing colours. But I +think that the two ladies were more efficacious than even their male +relatives in the arguments which they used. “We have been so happy +to have you among us,” said Lady Cantrip, looking at him with +beseeching, almost loving eyes. “Mr. Finn knows,” said Lady Laura, +“that since he first came into Parliament I have always believed +in his success, and I have been very proud to see it.” “We shall +weep over him, as over a fallen angel, if he leaves us,” said Lady +Cantrip. “I won’t say that I will weep,” said Lady Laura, “but I do +not know anything of the kind that would so truly make me unhappy.” + +What was he to say in answer to applications so flattering and so +pressing? He would have said nothing, had that been possible, but he +felt himself obliged to reply. He replied very weakly,--of course, +not justifying himself, but declaring that as he had gone so far he +must go further. He must vote for the measure now. Both his chief and +Barrington Erle proved, or attempted to prove, that he was wrong in +this. Of course he would not speak on the measure, and his vote for +his party would probably be allowed to pass without notice. One or +two newspapers might perhaps attack him; but what public man cared +for such attacks as those? His whole party would hang by him, and in +that he would find ample consolation. Phineas could only say that he +would think of it;--and this he said in so irresolute a tone of voice +that all the men then present believed that he was gained. The two +ladies, however, were of a different opinion. “In spite of anything +that anybody may say, he will do what he thinks right when the time +comes,” said Laura to her father afterwards. But then Lady Laura had +been in love with him,--was perhaps almost in love with him still. +“I’m afraid he is a mule,” said Lady Cantrip to her husband. “He’s +a good mule up a hill with a load on his back,” said his lordship. +“But with a mule there always comes a time when you can’t manage +him,” said Lady Cantrip. But Lady Cantrip had never been in love with +Phineas. + +Phineas found a moment, before he left Lord Brentford’s house, to say +a word to Lady Laura as to the commission that had been given to him. +“It can never be,” said Lady Laura, shuddering;--“never, never, +never!” + +“You are not angry with me for speaking?” + +“Oh, no--not if he told you.” + +“He made me promise that I would.” + +“Tell him it cannot be. Tell him that if he has any instruction to +send me as to what he considers to be my duty, I will endeavour to +comply, if that duty can be done apart. I will recognize him so +far, because of my vow. But not even for the sake of my vow, will I +endeavour to live with him. His presence would kill me!” + +When Phineas repeated this, or as much of this as he judged to be +necessary, to Mr. Kennedy a day or two afterwards, that gentleman +replied that in such case he would have no alternative but to seek +redress at law. “I have done nothing to my wife,” said he, “of +which I need be ashamed. It will be sad, no doubt, to have all our +affairs bandied about in court, and made the subject of comment in +newspapers, but a man must go through that, or worse than that, in +the vindication of his rights, and for the performance of his duty to +his Maker.” That very day Mr. Kennedy went to his lawyer, and desired +that steps might be taken for the restitution to him of his conjugal +rights. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIX + +The Temptress + + +Mr. Monk’s bill was read the first time before Easter, and Phineas +Finn still held his office. He had spoken to the Prime Minister +once on the subject, and had been surprised at that gentleman’s +courtesy;--for Mr. Gresham had the reputation of being unconciliatory +in his manners, and very prone to resent anything like desertion from +that allegiance which was due to himself as the leader of his party. +“You had better stay where you are and take no step that may be +irretrievable, till you have quite made up your mind,” said Mr. +Gresham. + +“I fear I have made up my mind,” said Phineas. + +“Nothing can be done till after Easter,” replied the great man, “and +there is no knowing how things may go then. I strongly recommend you +to stay with us. If you can do this it will be only necessary that +you shall put your resignation in Lord Cantrip’s hands before you +speak or vote against us. See Monk and talk it over with him.” Mr. +Gresham possibly imagined that Mr. Monk might be moved to abandon his +bill, when he saw what injury he was about to do. + +At this time Phineas received the following letter from his darling +Mary:-- + + + Floodborough, Thursday. + + DEAREST PHINEAS, + + We have just got home from Killaloe, and mean to remain + here all through the summer. After leaving your sisters + this house seems so desolate; but I shall have the more + time to think of you. I have been reading Tennyson, as you + told me, and I fancy that I could in truth be a Mariana + here, if it were not that I am so quite certain that you + will come;--and that makes all the difference in the world + in a moated grange. Last night I sat at the window and + tried to realise what I should feel if you were to tell me + that you did not want me; and I got myself into such an + ecstatic state of mock melancholy that I cried for half an + hour. But when one has such a real living joy at the back + of one’s romantic melancholy, tears are very pleasant;-- + they water and do not burn. + + I must tell you about them all at Killaloe. They certainly + are very unhappy at the idea of your resigning. Your + father says very little, but I made him own that to act + as you are acting for the sake of principle is very grand. + I would not leave him till he had said so, and he did say + it. Dear Mrs. Finn does not understand it as well, but + she will do so. She complains mostly for my sake, and + when I tell her that I will wait twenty years if it is + necessary, she tells me I do not know what waiting means. + But I will,--and will be happy, and will never really + think myself a Mariana. Dear, dear, dear Phineas, indeed + I won’t. The girls are half sad and half proud. But I am + wholly proud, and know that you are doing just what you + ought to do. I shall think more of you as a man who might + have been a Prime Minister than if you were really sitting + in the Cabinet like Lord Cantrip. As for mamma, I cannot + make her quite understand it. She merely says that no + young man who is going to be married ought to resign + anything. Dear mamma;--sometimes she does say such odd + things. + + You told me to tell you everything, and so I have. I + talk to some of the people here, and tell them what they + might do if they had tenant-right. One old fellow, Mike + Dufferty,--I don’t know whether you remember him,--asked + if he would have to pay the rent all the same. When I said + certainly he would, then he shook his head. But as you + said once, when we want to do good to people one has no + right to expect that they should understand it. It is like + baptizing little infants. + + I got both your notes;--seven words in one, Mr. + Under-Secretary, and nine in the other! But the one little + word at the end was worth a whole sheet full of common + words. How nice it is to write letters without paying + postage, and to send them about the world with a grand + name in the corner. When Barney brings me one he always + looks as if he didn’t know whether it was a love letter + or an order to go to Botany Bay. If he saw the inside of + them, how short they are, I don’t think he’d think much of + you as a lover nor yet as an Under-Secretary. + + But I think ever so much of you as both;--I do, indeed; + and I am not scolding you a bit. As long as I can have two + or three dear, sweet, loving words, I shall be as happy as + a queen. Ah, if you knew it all! But you never can know + it all. A man has so many other things to learn that he + cannot understand it. + + Good-bye, dear, dear, dearest man. Whatever you do I shall + be quite sure you have done the best. + + Ever your own, with all the love of her heart, + + MARY F. JONES. + + +This was very nice. Such a man as was Phineas Finn always takes a +delight which he cannot express even to himself in the receipt of +such a letter as this. There is nothing so flattering as the warm +expression of the confidence of a woman’s love, and Phineas thought +that no woman ever expressed this more completely than did his Mary. +Dear, dearest Mary. As for giving her up, as for treachery to one so +trusting, so sweet, so well beloved, that was out of the question. +But nevertheless the truth came home to him more clearly day by day, +that he of all men was the last who ought to have given himself up to +such a passion. For her sake he ought to have abstained. So he told +himself now. For her sake he ought to have kept aloof from her;--and +for his own sake he ought to have kept aloof from Mr. Monk. That very +day, with Mary’s letter in his pocket, he went to the livery stables +and explained that he would not keep his horse any longer. There was +no difficulty about the horse. Mr. Howard Macleod of the Treasury +would take him from that very hour. Phineas, as he walked away, +uttered a curse upon Mr. Howard Macleod. Mr. Howard Macleod was just +beginning the glory of his life in London, and he, Phineas Finn, was +bringing his to an end. + +With Mary’s letter in his pocket he went up to Portman Square. He had +again got into the habit of seeing Lady Laura frequently, and was +often with her brother, who now again lived at his father’s house. +A letter had reached Lord Brentford, through his lawyer, in which a +demand was made by Mr. Kennedy for the return of his wife. She was +quite determined that she would never go back to him; and there had +come to her a doubt whether it would not be expedient that she should +live abroad so as to be out of the way of persecution from her +husband. Lord Brentford was in great wrath, and Lord Chiltern had +once or twice hinted that perhaps he had better “see” Mr. Kennedy. +The amenities of such an interview, as this would be, had up to the +present day been postponed; and, in a certain way, Phineas had been +used as a messenger between Mr. Kennedy and his wife’s family. + +“I think it will end,” she said, “in my going to Dresden, and +settling myself there. Papa will come to me when Parliament is not +sitting.” + +“It will be very dull.” + +“Dull! What does dulness amount to when one has come to such a pass +as this? When one is in the ruck of fortune, to be dull is very bad; +but when misfortune comes, simple dulness is nothing. It sounds +almost like relief.” + +“It is so hard that you should be driven away.” She did not answer +him for a while, and he was beginning to think of his own case also. +Was it not hard that he too should be driven away? “It is odd enough +that we should both be going at the same time.” + +“But you will not go?” + +“I think I shall. I have resolved upon this,--that if I give up my +place, I will give up my seat too. I went into Parliament with the +hope of office, and how can I remain there when I shall have gained +it and then have lost it?” + +“But you will stay in London, Mr. Finn?” + +“I think not. After all that has come and gone I should not be happy +here, and I should make my way easier and on cheaper terms in Dublin. +My present idea is that I shall endeavour to make a practice over in +my own country. It will be hard work beginning at the bottom;--will +it not?” + +“And so unnecessary.” + +“Ah, Lady Laura,--if it only could be avoided! But it is of no use +going through all that again.” + +“How much we would both of us avoid if we could only have another +chance!” said Lady Laura. “If I could only be as I was before I +persuaded myself to marry a man whom I never loved, what a paradise +the earth would be to me! With me all regrets are too late.” + +“And with me as much so.” + +“No, Mr. Finn. Even should you resign your office, there is no reason +why you should give up your seat.” + +“Simply that I have no income to maintain me in London.” + +She was silent for a few moments, during which she changed her seat +so as to come nearer to him, placing herself on a corner of a sofa +close to the chair on which he was seated. “I wonder whether I may +speak to you plainly,” she said. + +“Indeed you may.” + +“On any subject?” + +“Yes;--on any subject.” + +“I trust you have been able to rid your bosom of all remembrances of +Violet Effingham.” + +“Certainly not of all remembrances, Lady Laura.” + +“Of all hope, then?” + +“I have no such hope.” + +“And of all lingering desires?” + +“Well, yes;--and of all lingering desires. I know now that it cannot +be. Your brother is welcome to her.” + +“Ah;--of that I know nothing. He, with his perversity, has estranged +her. But I am sure of this,--that if she do not marry him, she will +marry no one. But it is not on account of him that I speak. He must +fight his own battles now.” + +“I shall not interfere with him, Lady Laura.” + +“Then why should you not establish yourself by a marriage that will +make place a matter of indifference to you? I know that it is within +your power to do so.” Phineas put his hand up to his breastcoat +pocket, and felt that Mary’s letter,--her precious letter,--was there +safe. It certainly was not in his power to do this thing which Lady +Laura recommended to him, but he hardly thought that the present was +a moment suitable for explaining to her the nature of the impediment +which stood in the way of such an arrangement. He had so lately +spoken to Lady Laura with an assurance of undying constancy of his +love for Miss Effingham, that he could not as yet acknowledge the +force of another passion. He shook his head by way of reply. “I tell +you that it is so,” she said with energy. + +“I am afraid not.” + +“Go to Madame Goesler, and ask her. Hear what she will say.” + +“Madame Goesler would laugh at me, no doubt.” + +“Psha! You do not think so. You know that she would not laugh. And +are you the man to be afraid of a woman’s laughter? I think not.” + +Again he did not answer her at once, and when he did speak the tone +of his voice was altered. “What was it you said of yourself, just +now?” + +“What did I say of myself?” + +“You regretted that you had consented to marry a man,--whom you did +not love.” + +“Why should you not love her? And it is so different with a man! A +woman is wretched if she does not love her husband, but I fancy that +a man gets on very well without any such feeling. She cannot domineer +over you. She cannot expect you to pluck yourself out of your own +soil, and begin a new growth altogether in accordance with the laws +of her own. It was that which Mr. Kennedy did.” + +“I do not for a moment think that she would take me, if I were to +offer myself.” + +“Try her,” said Lady Laura energetically. “Such trials cost you but +little;--we both of us know that!” Still he said nothing of the +letter in his pocket. “It is everything that you should go on now +that you have once begun. I do not believe in you working at the +Bar. You cannot do it. A man who has commenced life as you have done +with the excitement of politics, who has known what it is to take a +prominent part in the control of public affairs, cannot give it up +and be happy at other work. Make her your wife, and you may resign +or remain in office just as you choose. Office will be much easier +to you than it is now, because it will not be a necessity. Let me +at any rate have the pleasure of thinking that one of us can remain +here,--that we need not both fall together.” + +Still he did not tell her of the letter in his pocket. He felt that +she moved him,--that she made him acknowledge to himself how great +would be the pity of such a failure as would be his. He was quite as +much alive as she could be to the fact that work at the Bar, either +in London or in Dublin, would have no charms for him now. The +prospect of such a life was very dreary to him. Even with the comfort +of Mary’s love such a life would be very dreary to him. And then he +knew,--he thought that he knew,--that were he to offer himself to +Madame Goesler he would not in truth be rejected. She had told him +that if poverty was a trouble to him he need be no longer poor. Of +course he had understood this. Her money was at his service if he +should choose to stoop and pick it up. And it was not only money that +such a marriage would give him. He had acknowledged to himself more +than once that Madame Goesler was very lovely, that she was clever, +attractive in every way, and as far as he could see, blessed with a +sweet temper. She had a position, too, in the world that would help +him rather than mar him. What might he not do with an independent +seat in the House of Commons, and as joint owner of the little house +in Park Lane? Of all careers which the world could offer to a man the +pleasantest would then be within his reach. “You appear to me as a +tempter,” he said at last to Lady Laura. + +“It is unkind of you to say that, and ungrateful. I would do anything +on earth in my power to help you.” + +“Nevertheless you are a tempter.” + +“I know how it ought to have been,” she said, in a low voice. “I know +very well how it ought to have been. I should have kept myself free +till that time when we met on the braes of Loughlinter, and then all +would have been well with us.” + +“I do not know how that might have been,” said Phineas, hoarsely. + +“You do not know! But I know. Of course you have stabbed me with a +thousand daggers when you have told me from time to time of your love +for Violet. You have been very cruel,--needlessly cruel. Men are so +cruel! But for all that I have known that I could have kept you,--had +it not been too late when you spoke to me. Will you not own as much +as that?” + +“Of course you would have been everything to me. I should never have +thought of Violet then.” + +“That is the only kind word you have said to me from that day to +this. I try to comfort myself in thinking that it would have been so. +But all that is past and gone, and done. I have had my romance and +you have had yours. As you are a man, it is natural that you should +have been disturbed by a double image;--it is not so with me.” + +“And yet you can advise me to offer marriage to a woman,--a woman +whom I am to seek merely because she is rich?” + +“Yes;--I do so advise you. You have had your romance and must now +put up with reality. Why should I so advise you but for the interest +that I have in you? Your prosperity will do me no good. I shall not +even be here to see it. I shall hear of it only as so many a woman +banished out of England hears a distant misunderstood report of what +is going on in the country she has left. But I still have regard +enough,--I will be bold, and, knowing that you will not take it +amiss, will say love enough for you,--to feel a desire that you +should not be shipwrecked. Since we first took you in hand between +us, Barrington and I, I have never swerved in my anxiety on your +behalf. When I resolved that it would be better for us both that we +should be only friends, I did not swerve. When you would talk to me +so cruelly of your love for Violet, I did not swerve. When I warned +you from Loughlinter because I thought there was danger, I did not +swerve. When I bade you not to come to me in London because of my +husband, I did not swerve. When my father was hard upon you, I +did not swerve then. I would not leave him till he was softened. +When you tried to rob Oswald of his love, and I thought you would +succeed,--for I did think so,--I did not swerve. I have ever been +true to you. And now that I must hide myself and go away, and be seen +no more, I am true still.” + +“Laura,--dearest Laura!” he exclaimed. + +“Ah, no!” she said, speaking with no touch of anger, but all in +sorrow;--“it must not be like that. There is no room for that. Nor do +you mean it. I do not think so ill of you. But there may not be even +words of affection between us--only such as I may speak to make you +know that I am your friend.” + +“You are my friend,” he said, stretching out his hand to her as he +turned away his face. “You are my friend, indeed.” + +“Then do as I would have you do.” + +He put his hand into his pocket, and had the letter between his +fingers with the purport of showing it to her. But at the moment +the thought occurred to him that were he to do so, then, indeed, he +would be bound for ever. He knew that he was bound for ever,--bound +for ever to his own Mary; but he desired to have the privilege of +thinking over such bondage once more before he proclaimed it even to +his dearest friend. He had told her that she tempted him, and she +stood before him now as a temptress. But lest it might be possible +that she should not tempt in vain,--that letter in his pocket must +never be shown to her. In that case Lady Laura must never hear from +his lips the name of Mary Flood Jones. + +He left her without any assured purpose;--without, that is, the +assurance to her of any fixed purpose. There yet wanted a week to the +day on which Mr. Monk’s bill was to be read,--or not to be read,--the +second time; and he had still that interval before he need decide. +He went to his club, and before he dined he strove to write a line +to Mary;--but when he had the paper before him he found that it was +impossible to do so. Though he did not even suspect himself of an +intention to be false, the idea that was in his mind made the effort +too much for him. He put the paper away from him and went down and +eat his dinner. + +It was a Saturday, and there was no House in the evening. He had +remained in Portman Square with Lady Laura till near seven o’clock, +and was engaged to go out in the evening to a gathering at Mrs. +Gresham’s house. Everybody in London would be there, and Phineas +was resolved that as long as he remained in London he would be seen +at places where everybody was seen. He would certainly be at Mrs. +Gresham’s gathering; but there was an hour or two before he need +go home to dress, and as he had nothing to do, he went down to the +smoking-room of his club. The seats were crowded, but there was +one vacant; and before he had looked about him to scrutinise his +neighbourhood, he found that he had placed himself with Bonteen on +his right hand and Ratler on his left. There were no two men in all +London whom he more thoroughly disliked; but it was too late for him +to avoid them now. + +They instantly attacked him, first on one side and then on the other. +“So I am told you are going to leave us,” said Bonteen. + +“Who can have been ill-natured enough to whisper such a thing?” +replied Phineas. + +“The whispers are very loud, I can tell you,” said Ratler. “I think I +know already pretty nearly how every man in the House will vote, and +I have not got your name down on the right side.” + +“Change it for heaven’s sake,” said Phineas. + +“I will, if you’ll tell me seriously that I may,” said Ratler. + +“My opinion is,” said Bonteen, “that a man should be known either as +a friend or foe. I respect a declared foe.” + +“Know me as a declared foe then,” said Phineas, “and respect me.” + +“That’s all very well,” said Ratler, “but it means nothing. I’ve +always had a sort of fear about you, Finn, that you would go over the +traces some day. Of course it’s a very grand thing to be +independent.” + +“The finest thing in the world,” said Bonteen; “only so d----d +useless.” + +“But a man shouldn’t be independent and stick to the ship at the +same time. You forget the trouble you cause, and how you upset all +calculations.” + +“I hadn’t thought of the calculations,” said Phineas. + +“The fact is, Finn,” said Bonteen, “you are made of clay too fine for +office. I’ve always found it has been so with men from your country. +You are the grandest horses in the world to look at out on a prairie, +but you don’t like the slavery of harness.” + +“And the sound of a whip over our shoulders sets us kicking;--does it +not, Ratler?” + +“I shall show the list to Gresham to-morrow,” said Ratler, “and of +course he can do as he pleases; but I don’t understand this kind of +thing.” + +“Don’t you be in a hurry,” said Bonteen. “I’ll bet you a sovereign +Finn votes with us yet. There’s nothing like being a little coy to +set off a girl’s charms. I’ll bet you a sovereign, Ratler, that Finn +goes out into the lobby with you and me against Monk’s bill.” + +Phineas, not being able to stand any more of this most unpleasant +raillery, got up and went away. The club was distasteful to him, and +he walked off and sauntered for a while about the park. He went down +by the Duke of York’s column as though he were going to his office, +which of course was closed at this hour, but turned round when he +got beyond the new public buildings,--buildings which he was never +destined to use in their completed state,--and entered the gates of +the enclosure, and wandered on over the bridge across the water. As +he went his mind was full of thought. Could it be good for him to +give up everything for a fair face? He swore to himself that of all +women whom he had ever seen Mary was the sweetest and the dearest and +the best. If it could be well to lose the world for a woman, it would +be well to lose it for her. Violet, with all her skill, and all her +strength, and all her grace, could never have written such a letter +as that which he still held in his pocket. The best charm of a woman +is that she should be soft, and trusting, and generous; and who ever +had been more soft, more trusting, and more generous than his Mary? +Of course he would be true to her, though he did lose the world. + +But to yield such a triumph to the Ratlers and Bonteens whom he left +behind him,--to let them have their will over him,--to know that they +would rejoice scurrilously behind his back over his downfall! The +feeling was terrible to him. The last words which Bonteen had spoken +made it impossible to him now not to support his old friend Mr. Monk. +It was not only what Bonteen had said, but that the words of Mr. +Bonteen so plainly indicated what would be the words of all the other +Bonteens. He knew that he was weak in this. He knew that had he been +strong, he would have allowed himself to be guided,--if not by the +firm decision of his own spirit,--by the counsels of such men as Mr. +Gresham and Lord Cantrip, and not by the sarcasms of the Bonteens and +Ratlers of official life. But men who sojourn amidst savagery fear +the mosquito more than they do the lion. He could not bear to think +that he should yield his blood to such a one as Bonteen. + +And he must yield his blood, unless he could vote for Mr. Monk’s +motion, and hold his ground afterwards among them all in the House +of Commons. He would at any rate see the session out, and try a +fall with Mr. Bonteen when they should be sitting on different +benches,--if ever fortune should give him an opportunity. And in the +meantime, what should he do about Madame Goesler? What a fate was his +to have the handsomest woman in London with thousands and thousands +a year at his disposal! For,--so he now swore to himself,--Madame +Goesler was the handsomest woman in London, as Mary Flood Jones was +the sweetest girl in the world. + +He had not arrived at any decision so fixed as to make him +comfortable when he went home and dressed for Mrs. Gresham’s party. +And yet he knew,--he thought that he knew that he would be true to +Mary Flood Jones. + + + + +CHAPTER LXX + +The Prime Minister’s House + + +The rooms and passages and staircases at Mrs. Gresham’s house were +very crowded when Phineas arrived there. Men of all shades of +politics were there, and the wives and daughters of such men; and +there was a streak of royalty in one of the saloons, and a whole +rainbow of foreign ministers with their stars, and two blue ribbons +were to be seen together on the first landing-place, with a stout +lady between them carrying diamonds enough to load a pannier. +Everybody was there. Phineas found that even Lord Chiltern was come, +as he stumbled across his friend on the first foot-ground that he +gained in his ascent towards the rooms. “Halloa,--you here?” said +Phineas. “Yes, by George!” said the other, “but I am going to escape +as soon as possible. I’ve been trying to make my way up for the last +hour, but could never get round that huge promontory there. Laura was +more persevering.” “Is Kennedy here?” Phineas whispered. “I do not +know,” said Chiltern, “but she was determined to run the chance.” + +A little higher up,--for Phineas was blessed with more patience than +Lord Chiltern possessed,--he came upon Mr. Monk. “So you are still +admitted privately,” said Phineas. + +“Oh dear yes,--and we have just been having a most friendly +conversation about you. What a man he is! He knows everything. He +is so accurate; so just in the abstract,--and in the abstract so +generous!” + +“He has been very generous to me in detail as well as in abstract,” +said Phineas. + +“Ah, yes; I am not thinking of individuals exactly. His want of +generosity is to large masses,--to a party, to classes, to a people; +whereas his generosity is for mankind at large. He assumes the god, +affects to nod, and seems to shake the spheres. But I have nothing +against him. He has asked me here to-night, and has talked to me most +familiarly about Ireland.” + +“What do you think of your chance of a second reading?” asked +Phineas. + +“What do you think of it?--you hear more of those things than I do.” + +“Everybody says it will be a close division.” + +“I never expected it,” said Mr. Monk. + +“Nor I, till I heard what Daubeny said at the first reading. They +will all vote for the bill en masse,--hating it in their hearts all +the time.” + +“Let us hope they are not so bad as that.” + +“It is the way with them always. They do all our work for +us,--sailing either on one tack or the other. That is their use in +creation, that when we split among ourselves, as we always do, they +come in and finish our job for us. It must be unpleasant for them to +be always doing that which they always say should never be done at +all.” + +“Wherever the gift horse may come from, I shall not look it in the +mouth,” said Mr. Monk. “There is only one man in the House whom I +hope I may not see in the lobby with me, and that is yourself.” + +“The question is decided now,” said Phineas. + +“And how is it decided?” + +Phineas could not tell his friend that a question of so great +magnitude to him had been decided by the last sting which he had +received from an insect so contemptible as Mr. Bonteen, but he +expressed the feeling as well as he knew how to express it. “Oh, I +shall be with you. I know what you are going to say, and I know how +good you are. But I could not stand it. Men are beginning already to +say things which almost make me get up and kick them. If I can help +it, I will give occasion to no man to hint anything to me which +can make me be so wretched as I have been to-day. Pray do not say +anything more. My idea is that I shall resign to-morrow.” + +“Then I hope that we may fight the battle side by side,” said Mr. +Monk, giving him his hand. + +“We will fight the battle side by side,” replied Phineas. + +After that he pushed his way still higher up the stairs, having no +special purpose in view, not dreaming of any such success as that +of reaching his host or hostess,--merely feeling that it should be +a point of honour with him to make a tour through the rooms before +he descended the stairs. The thing, he thought, was to be done with +courage and patience, and this might, probably, be the last time in +his life that he would find himself in the house of a Prime Minister. +Just at the turn of the balustrade at the top of the stairs, he found +Mr. Gresham in the very spot on which Mr. Monk had been talking with +him. “Very glad to see you,” said Mr. Gresham. “You, I find, are a +persevering man, with a genius for getting upwards.” + +“Like the sparks,” said Phineas. + +“Not quite so quickly,” said Mr. Gresham. + +“But with the same assurance of speedy loss of my little light.” + +It did not suit Mr. Gresham to understand this, so he changed the +subject. “Have you seen the news from America?” + +“Yes, I have seen it, but do not believe it,” said Phineas. + +“Ah, you have such faith in a combination of British colonies, +properly backed in Downing Street, as to think them strong +against a world in arms. In your place I should hold to the same +doctrine,--hold to it stoutly.” + +“And you do now, I hope, Mr. Gresham?” + +“Well,--yes,--I am not down-hearted. But I confess to a feeling that +the world would go on even though we had nothing to say to a single +province in North America. But that is for your private ear. You are +not to whisper that in Downing Street.” Then there came up somebody +else, and Phineas went on upon his slow course. He had longed for an +opportunity to tell Mr. Gresham that he could go to Downing Street no +more, but such opportunity had not reached him. + +For a long time he found himself stuck close by the side of Miss +Fitzgibbon,--Miss Aspasia Fitzgibbon,--who had once relieved him from +terrible pecuniary anxiety by paying for him a sum of money which was +due by him on her brother’s account. “It’s a very nice thing to be +here, but one does get tired of it,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. + +“Very tired,” said Phineas. + +“Of course it is a part of your duty, Mr. Finn. You are on your +promotion and are bound to be here. When I asked Laurence to come, he +said there was nothing to be got till the cards were shuffled again.” + +“They’ll be shuffled very soon,” said Phineas. + +“Whatever colour comes up, you’ll hold trumps, I know,” said the +lady. “Some hands always hold trumps.” He could not explain to Miss +Fitzgibbon that it would never again be his fate to hold a single +trump in his hand; so he made another fight, and got on a few steps +farther. + +He said a word as he went to half a dozen friends,--as friends went +with him. He was detained for five minutes by Lady Baldock, who was +very gracious and very disagreeable. She told him that Violet was in +the room, but where she did not know. “She is somewhere with Lady +Laura, I believe; and really, Mr. Finn, I do not like it.” Lady +Baldock had heard that Phineas had quarrelled with Lord Brentford, +but had not heard of the reconciliation. “Really, I do not like it. I +am told that Mr. Kennedy is in the house, and nobody knows what may +happen.” + +“Mr. Kennedy is not likely to say anything.” + +“One cannot tell. And when I hear that a woman is separated from her +husband, I always think that she must have been imprudent. It may be +uncharitable, but I think it is most safe so to consider.” + +“As far as I have heard the circumstances, Lady Laura was quite +right,” said Phineas. + +“It may be so. Gentlemen will always take the lady’s part,--of +course. But I should be very sorry to have a daughter separated from +her husband,--very sorry.” + +Phineas, who had nothing now to gain from Lady Baldock’s favour, left +her abruptly, and went on again. He had a great desire to see Lady +Laura and Violet together, though he could hardly tell himself why. +He had not seen Miss Effingham since his return from Ireland, and he +thought that if he met her alone he could hardly have talked to her +with comfort; but he knew that if he met her with Lady Laura, she +would greet him as a friend, and speak to him as though there were no +cause for embarrassment between them. But he was so far disappointed, +that he suddenly encountered Violet alone. She had been leaning on +the arm of Lord Baldock, and Phineas saw her cousin leave her. But +he would not be such a coward as to avoid her, especially as he knew +that she had seen him. “Oh, Mr. Finn!” she said, “do you see that?” + +“See what?” + +“Look; There is Mr. Kennedy. We had heard that it was possible, and +Laura made me promise that I would not leave her.” Phineas turned his +head, and saw Mr. Kennedy standing with his back bolt upright against +a door-post, with his brow as black as thunder. “She is just opposite +to him, where he can see her,” said Violet. “Pray take me to her. He +will think nothing of you, because I know that you are still friends +with both of them. I came away because Lord Baldock wanted to +introduce me to Lady Mouser. You know he is going to marry Miss +Mouser.” + +Phineas, not caring much about Lord Baldock and Miss Mouser, took +Violet’s hand upon his arm, and very slowly made his way across +the room to the spot indicated. There they found Lady Laura alone, +sitting under the upas-tree influence of her husband’s gaze. There +was a concourse of people between them, and Mr. Kennedy did not seem +inclined to make any attempt to lessen the distance. But Lady Laura +had found it impossible to move while she was under her husband’s +eyes. + +“Mr. Finn,” she said, “could you find Oswald? I know he is here.” + +“He has gone,” said Phineas. “I was speaking to him downstairs.” + +“You have not seen my father? He said he would come.” + +“I have not seen him, but I will search.” + +“No;--it will do no good. I cannot stay. His carriage is there, I +know,--waiting for me.” Phineas immediately started off to have the +carriage called, and promised to return with as much celerity as he +could use. As he went, making his way much quicker through the crowd +than he had done when he had no such object for haste, he purposely +avoided the door by which Mr. Kennedy had stood. It would have been +his nearest way, but his present service, he thought, required that +he should keep aloof from the man. But Mr. Kennedy passed through the +door and intercepted him in his path. + +“Is she going?” he asked. + +“Well. Yes. I dare say she may before long. I shall look for Lord +Brentford’s carriage by-and-by.” + +“Tell her she need not go because of me. I shall not return. I shall +not annoy her here. It would have been much better that a woman in +such a plight should not have come to such an assembly.” + +“You would not wish her to shut herself up.” + +“I would wish her to come back to the home that she has left, and, if +there be any law in the land, she shall be made to do so. You tell +her that I say so.” Then Mr. Kennedy fought his way down the stairs, +and Phineas Finn followed in his wake. + +About half an hour afterwards Phineas returned to the two ladies with +tidings that the carriage would be at hand as soon as they could be +below. “Did he see you?” said Lady Laura. + +“Yes, he followed me.” + +“And did he speak to you?” + +“Yes;--he spoke to me.” + +“And what did he say?” And then, in the presence of Violet, Phineas +gave the message. He thought it better that it should be given; +and were he to decline to deliver it now, it would never be given. +“Whether there be law in the land to protect me or whether there be +none, I will never live with him,” said Lady Laura. “Is a woman like +a head of cattle, that she can be fastened in her crib by force? I +will never live with him though all the judges of the land should +decide that I must do so.” + +Phineas thought much of all this as he went to his solitary lodgings. +After all, was not the world much better with him than it was with +either of those two wretched married beings? And why? He had not, +at any rate as yet, sacrificed for money or social gains any of +the instincts of his nature. He had been fickle, foolish, vain, +uncertain, and perhaps covetous;--but as yet he had not been false. +Then he took out Mary’s last letter and read it again. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXI + +Comparing Notes + + +It would, perhaps, be difficult to decide,--between Lord Chiltern and +Miss Effingham,--which had been most wrong, or which had been nearest +to the right, in the circumstances which had led to their separation. +The old lord, wishing to induce his son to undertake work of some +sort, and feeling that his own efforts in this direction were worse +than useless, had closeted himself with his intended daughter-in-law, +and had obtained from her a promise that she would use her influence +with her lover. “Of course I think it right that he should do +something,” Violet had said. “And he will if you bid him,” replied +the Earl. Violet expressed a great doubt as to this willingness of +obedience; but, nevertheless, she promised to do her best, and she +did her best. Lord Chiltern, when she spoke to him, knit his brows +with an apparent ferocity of anger which his countenance frequently +expressed without any intention of ferocity on his part. He was +annoyed, but was not savagely disposed to Violet. As he looked at +her, however, he seemed to be very savagely disposed. “What is it you +would have me do?” he said. + +“I would have you choose some occupation, Oswald.” + +“What occupation? What is it that you mean? Ought I to be a +shoemaker?” + +“Not that by preference, I should say; but that if you please.” When +her lover had frowned at her, Violet had resolved,--had strongly +determined, with inward assertions of her own rights,--that she would +not be frightened by him. + +“You are talking nonsense, Violet. You know that I cannot be a +shoemaker.” + +“You may go into Parliament.” + +“I neither can, nor would I if I could. I dislike the life.” + +“You might farm.” + +“I cannot afford it.” + +“You might,--might do anything. You ought to do something. You know +that you ought. You know that your father is right in what he says.” + +“That is easily asserted, Violet; but it would, I think, be better +that you should take my part than my father’s, if it be that you +intend to be my wife.” + +“You know that I intend to be your wife; but would you wish that I +should respect my husband?” + +“And will you not do so if you marry me?” he asked. + +Then Violet looked into his face and saw that the frown was blacker +than ever. The great mark down his forehead was deeper and more +like an ugly wound than she had ever seen it; and his eyes sparkled +with anger; and his face was red as with fiery wrath. If it was so +with him when she was no more than engaged to him, how would it be +when they should be man and wife? At any rate, she would not fear +him,--not now at least. “No, Oswald,” she said. “If you resolve upon +being an idle man, I shall not respect you. It is better that I +should tell you the truth.” + +“A great deal better,” he said. + +“How can I respect one whose whole life will be,--will be--?” + +“Will be what?” he demanded with a loud shout. + +“Oswald, you are very rough with me.” + +“What do you say that my life will be?” + +Then she again resolved that she would not fear him. “It will be +discreditable,” she said. + +“It shall not discredit you,” he replied. “I will not bring disgrace +on one I have loved so well. Violet, after what you have said, we had +better part.” She was still proud, still determined, and they did +part. Though it nearly broke her heart to see him leave her, she bid +him go. She hated herself afterwards for her severity to him; but, +nevertheless, she would not submit to recall the words which she +had spoken. She had thought him to be wrong, and, so thinking, had +conceived it to be her duty and her privilege to tell him what she +thought. But she had no wish to lose him;--no wish not to be his wife +even, though he should be as idle as the wind. She was so constituted +that she had never allowed him or any other man to be master of her +heart,--till she had with a full purpose given her heart away. The +day before she had resolved to give it to one man, she might, I +think, have resolved to give it to another. Love had not conquered +her, but had been taken into her service. Nevertheless, she could +not now rid herself of her servant, when she found that his services +would stand her no longer in good stead. She parted from Lord +Chiltern with an assent, with an assured brow, and with much dignity +in her gait; but as soon as she was alone she was a prey to remorse. +She had declared to the man who was to have been her husband that +his life was discreditable,--and, of course, no man would bear such +language. Had Lord Chiltern borne it, he would not have been worthy +of her love. + +She herself told Lady Laura and Lord Brentford what had +occurred,--and had told Lady Baldock also. Lady Baldock had, of +course, triumphed,--and Violet sought her revenge by swearing that +she would regret for ever the loss of so inestimable a gentleman. +“Then why have you given him up, my dear?” demanded Lady Baldock. +“Because I found that he was too good for me,” said Violet. It may be +doubtful whether Lady Baldock was not justified, when she declared +that her niece was to her a care so harassing that no aunt known in +history had ever been so troubled before. + +Lord Brentford had fussed and fumed, and had certainly made things +worse. He had quarrelled with his son, and then made it up, and then +quarrelled again,--swearing that the fault must all be attributed to +Chiltern’s stubbornness and Chiltern’s temper. Latterly, however, by +Lady Laura’s intervention, Lord Brentford and his son had again been +reconciled, and the Earl endeavoured manfully to keep his tongue from +disagreeable words, and his face from evil looks, when his son was +present. “They will make it up,” Lady Laura had said, “if you and I +do not attempt to make it up for them. If we do, they will never come +together.” The Earl was convinced, and did his best. But the task +was very difficult to him. How was he to keep his tongue off his son +while his son was daily saying things of which any father,--any such +father as Lord Brentford,--could not but disapprove? Lord Chiltern +professed to disbelieve even in the wisdom of the House of Lords, and +on one occasion asserted that it must be a great comfort to any Prime +Minister to have three or four old women in the Cabinet. The father, +when he heard this, tried to rebuke his son tenderly, strove even to +be jocose. It was the one wish of his heart that Violet Effingham +should be his daughter-in-law. But even with this wish he found it +very hard to keep his tongue off Lord Chiltern. + +When Lady Laura discussed the matter with Violet, Violet would always +declare that there was no hope. “The truth is,” she said on the +morning of that day on which they both went to Mrs. Gresham’s, “that +though we like each other,--love each other, if you choose to say +so,--we are not fit to be man and wife.” + +“And why not fit?” + +“We are too much alike. Each is too violent, too headstrong, and too +masterful.” + +“You, as the woman, ought to give way,” said Lady Laura. + +“But we do not always do just what we ought.” + +“I know how difficult it is for me to advise, seeing to what a pass I +have brought myself.” + +“Do not say that, dear;--or rather do say it, for we have, both of +us, brought ourselves to what you call a pass,--to such a pass that +we are like to be able to live together and discuss it for the rest +of our lives. The difference is, I take it, that you have not to +accuse yourself, and that I have.” + +“I cannot say that I have not to accuse myself,” said Lady Laura. +“I do not know that I have done much wrong to Mr. Kennedy since I +married him; but in marrying him I did him a grievous wrong.” + +“And he has avenged himself.” + +“We will not talk of vengeance. I believe he is wretched, and I know +that I am;--and that has come of the wrong that I have done.” + +“I will make no man wretched,” said Violet. + +“Do you mean that your mind is made up against Oswald?” + +“I mean that, and I mean much more. I say that I will make no man +wretched. Your brother is not the only man who is so weak as to be +willing to run the hazard.” + +“There is Lord Fawn.” + +“Yes, there is Lord Fawn, certainly. Perhaps I should not do him much +harm; but then I should do him no good.” + +“And poor Phineas Finn.” + +“Yes;--there is Mr. Finn. I will tell you something, Laura. The only +man I ever saw in the world whom I have thought for a moment that +it was possible that I should like,--like enough to love as my +husband,--except your brother, was Mr. Finn.” + +“And now?” + +“Oh;--now; of course that is over,” said Violet. + +“It is over?” + +“Quite over. Is he not going to marry Madame Goesler? I suppose +all that is fixed by this time. I hope she will be good to him, +and gracious, and let him have his own way, and give him his tea +comfortably when he comes up tired from the House; for I confess that +my heart is a little tender towards Phineas still. I should not like +to think that he had fallen into the hands of a female Philistine.” + +“I do not think he will marry Madame Goesler.” + +“Why not?” + +“I can hardly tell you;--but I do not think he will. And you loved +him once,--eh, Violet?” + +“Not quite that, my dear. It has been difficult with me to love. The +difficulty with most girls, I fancy, is not to love. Mr. Finn, when I +came to measure him in my mind, was not small, but he was never quite +tall enough. One feels oneself to be a sort of recruiting sergeant, +going about with a standard of inches. Mr. Finn was just half an inch +too short. He lacks something in individuality. He is a little too +much a friend to everybody.” + +“Shall I tell you a secret, Violet?” + +“If you please, dear; though I fancy it is one I know already.” + +“He is the only man whom I ever loved,” said Lady Laura. + +“But it was too late when you learned to love him,” said Violet. + +“It was too late, when I was so sure of it as to wish that I had +never seen Mr. Kennedy. I felt it coming on me, and I argued with +myself that such a marriage would be bad for us both. At that moment +there was trouble in the family, and I had not a shilling of my own.” + +“You had paid it for Oswald.” + +“At any rate, I had nothing;--and he had nothing. How could I have +dared to think even of such a marriage?” + +“Did he think of it, Laura?” + +“I suppose he did.” + +“You know he did. Did you not tell me before?” + +“Well;--yes. He thought of it. I had come to some foolish, +half-sentimental resolution as to friendship, believing that he and I +could be knit together by some adhesion of fraternal affection that +should be void of offence to my husband; and in furtherance of this +he was asked to Loughlinter when I went there, just after I had +accepted Robert. He came down, and I measured him too, as you have +done. I measured him, and I found that he wanted nothing to come up +to the height required by my standard. I think I knew him better than +you did.” + +“Very possibly;--but why measure him at all, when such measurement +was useless?” + +“Can one help such things? He came to me one day as I was sitting up +by the Linter. You remember the place, where it makes its first +leap.” + +“I remember it very well.” + +“So do I. Robert had shown it me as the fairest spot in all +Scotland.” + +“And there this lover of ours sang his song to you?” + +“I do not know what he told me then; but I know that I told him that +I was engaged; and I felt when I told him so that my engagement was a +sorrow to me. And it has been a sorrow from that day to this.” + +“And the hero, Phineas,--he is still dear to you?” + +“Dear to me?” + +“Yes. You would have hated me, had he become my husband? And you will +hate Madame Goesler when she becomes his wife?” + +“Not in the least. I am no dog in the manger. I have even gone so far +as almost to wish, at certain moments, that you should accept him.” + +“And why?” + +“Because he has wished it so heartily.” + +“One can hardly forgive a man for such speedy changes,” said Violet. + +“Was I not to forgive him;--I, who had turned myself away from him +with a fixed purpose the moment that I found that he had made a mark +upon my heart? I could not wipe off the mark, and yet I married. Was +he not to try to wipe off his mark?” + +“It seems that he wiped it off very quickly;--and since that he has +wiped off another mark. One doesn’t know how many marks he has wiped +off. They are like the inn-keeper’s score which he makes in chalk. A +damp cloth brings them all away, and leaves nothing behind.” + +“What would you have?” + +“There should be a little notch on the stick,--to remember by,” said +Violet. “Not that I complain, you know. I cannot complain, as I was +not notched myself.” + +“You are silly, Violet.” + +“In not having allowed myself to be notched by this great champion?” + +“A man like Mr. Finn has his life to deal with,--to make the most +of it, and to divide it between work, pleasure, duty, ambition, and +the rest of it as best he may. If he have any softness of heart, it +will be necessary to him that love should bear a part in all these +interests. But a man will be a fool who will allow love to be the +master of them all. He will be one whose mind is so ill-balanced +as to allow him to be the victim of a single wish. Even in a woman +passion such as that is evidence of weakness, and not of strength.” + +“It seems, then, Laura, that you are weak.” + +“And if I am, does that condemn him? He is a man, if I judge him +rightly, who will be constant as the sun, when constancy can be of +service.” + +“You mean that the future Mrs. Finn will be secure?” + +“That is what I mean;--and that you or I, had either of us chosen to +take his name, might have been quite secure. We have thought it right +to refuse to do so.” + +“And how many more, I wonder?” + +“You are unjust, and unkind, Violet. So unjust and unkind that it is +clear to me he has just gratified your vanity, and has never touched +your heart. What would you have had him do, when I told him that I +was engaged?” + +“I suppose that Mr. Kennedy would not have gone to Blankenberg with +him.” + +“Violet!” + +“That seems to be the proper thing to do. But even that does not +adjust things finally;--does it?” Then some one came upon them, and +the conversation was brought to an end. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXII + +Madame Goesler’s Generosity + + +When Phineas Finn left Mr. Gresham’s house he had quite resolved what +he would do. On the next morning he would tell Lord Cantrip that his +resignation was a necessity, and that he would take that nobleman’s +advice as to resigning at once, or waiting till the day on which Mr. +Monk’s Irish Bill would be read for the second time. + +“My dear Finn, I can only say that I deeply regret it,” said Lord +Cantrip. + +“So do I. I regret to leave office, which I like,--and which indeed +I want. I regret specially to leave this office, as it has been a +thorough pleasure to me; and I regret, above all, to leave you. But +I am convinced that Monk is right, and I find it impossible not to +support him.” + +“I wish that Mr. Monk was at Bath,” said Lord Cantrip. + +Phineas could only smile, and shrug his shoulders, and say that +even though Mr. Monk were at Bath it would not probably make much +difference. When he tendered his letter of resignation, Lord Cantrip +begged him to withdraw it for a day or two. He would, he said, speak +to Mr. Gresham. The debate on the second reading of Mr. Monk’s bill +would not take place till that day week, and the resignation would +be in time if it was tendered before Phineas either spoke or voted +against the Government. So Phineas went back to his room, and +endeavoured to make himself useful in some work appertaining to his +favourite Colonies. + +That conversation had taken place on a Friday, and on the +following Sunday, early in the day, he left his rooms after a late +breakfast,--a prolonged breakfast, during which he had been studying +tenant-right statistics, preparing his own speech, and endeavouring +to look forward into the future which that speech was to do so much +to influence,--and turned his face towards Park Lane. There had been +a certain understanding between him and Madame Goesler that he was +to call in Park Lane on this Sunday morning, and then declare to her +what was his final resolve as to the office which he held. “It is +simply to bid her adieu,” he said to himself, “for I shall hardly +see her again.” And yet, as he took off his morning easy coat, and +dressed himself for the streets, and stood for a moment before his +looking-glass, and saw that his gloves were fresh and that his boots +were properly polished, I think there was a care about his person +which he would have hardly taken had he been quite assured that he +simply intended to say good-bye to the lady whom he was about to +visit. But if there were any such conscious feeling, he administered +to himself an antidote before he left the house. On returning to the +sitting-room he went to a little desk from which he took out the +letter from Mary which the reader has seen, and carefully perused +every word of it. “She is the best of them all,” he said to himself, +as he refolded the letter and put it back into his desk. I am not +sure that it is well that a man should have any large number from +whom to select a best; as, in such circumstances, he is so very apt +to change his judgment from hour to hour. The qualities which are the +most attractive before dinner sometimes become the least so in the +evening. + +The morning was warm, and he took a cab. It would not do that he +should speak even his last farewell to such a one as Madame Goesler +with all the heat and dust of a long walk upon him. Having been so +careful about his boots and gloves he might as well use his care to +the end. Madame Goesler was a very pretty woman, who spared herself +no trouble in making herself as pretty as Nature would allow, on +behalf of those whom she favoured with her smiles; and to such a lady +some special attention was due by one who had received so many of her +smiles as had Phineas. And he felt, too, that there was something +special in this very visit. It was to be made by appointment, and +there had come to be an understanding between them that Phineas +should tell her on this occasion what was his resolution with +reference to his future life. I think that he had been very wise in +fortifying himself with a further glance at our dear Mary’s letter, +before he trusted himself within Madame Goesler’s door. + +Yes;--Madame Goesler was at home. The door was opened by Madame +Goesler’s own maid, who, smiling, explained that the other servants +were all at church. Phineas had become sufficiently intimate at the +cottage in Park Lane to be on friendly terms with Madame Goesler’s +own maid, and now made some little half-familiar remark as to the +propriety of his visit during church time. “Madame will not refuse to +see you, I am thinking,” said the girl, who was a German. “And she +is alone?” asked Phineas. “Alone? Yes;--of course she is alone. Who +should be with her now?” Then she took him up into the drawing-room; +but, when there, he found that Madame Goesler was absent. “She shall +be down directly,” said the girl. “I shall tell her who is here, and +she will come.” + +It was a very pretty room. It may almost be said that there could be +no prettier room in all London. It looked out across certain small +private gardens,--which were as bright and gay as money could make +them when brought into competition with London smoke,--right on to +the park. Outside and inside the window, flowers and green things +were so arranged that the room itself almost looked as though it +were a bower in a garden. And everything in that bower was rich and +rare; and there was nothing there which annoyed by its rarity or was +distasteful by its richness. The seats, though they were costly as +money could buy, were meant for sitting, and were comfortable as +seats. There were books for reading, and the means of reading them. +Two or three gems of English art were hung upon the walls, and +could be seen backwards and forwards in the mirrors. And there +were precious toys lying here and there about the room,--toys very +precious, but placed there not because of their price, but because of +their beauty. Phineas already knew enough of the art of living to be +aware that the woman who had made that room what it was, had charms +to add a beauty to everything she touched. What would such a life as +his want, if graced by such a companion,--such a life as his might +be, if the means which were hers were at his command? It would want +one thing, he thought,--the self-respect which he would lose if he +were false to the girl who was trusting him with such sweet trust at +home in Ireland. + +In a very few minutes Madame Goesler was with him, and, though he did +not think about it, he perceived that she was bright in her apparel, +that her hair was as soft as care could make it, and that every charm +belonging to her had been brought into use for his gratification. He +almost told himself that he was there in order that he might ask to +have all those charms bestowed upon himself. He did not know who had +lately come to Park Lane and been a suppliant for the possession of +those rich endowments; but I wonder whether they would have been more +precious in his eyes had he known that they had so moved the heart +of the great Duke as to have induced him to lay his coronet at the +lady’s feet. I think that had he known that the lady had refused the +coronet, that knowledge would have enhanced the value of the prize. + +“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said, as she gave him +her hand. “I was an owl not to be ready for you when you told me that +you would come.” + +“No;--but a bird of paradise to come to me so sweetly, and at an +hour when all the other birds refuse to show the feather of a single +wing.” + +“And you,--you feel like a naughty boy, do you not, in thus coming +out on a Sunday morning?” + +“Do you feel like a naughty girl?” + +“Yes;--just a little so. I do not know that I should care for +everybody to hear that I received visitors,--or worse still, a +visitor,--at this hour on this day. But then it is so pleasant to +feel oneself to be naughty! There is a Bohemian flavour of picnic +about it which, though it does not come up to the rich gusto of +real wickedness, makes one fancy that one is on the border of that +delightful region in which there is none of the constraint of +custom,--where men and women say what they like, and do what they +like.” + +“It is pleasant enough to be on the borders,” said Phineas. + +“That is just it. Of course decency, morality, and propriety, all +made to suit the eye of the public, are the things which are really +delightful. We all know that, and live accordingly,--as well as we +can. I do at least.” + +“And do not I, Madame Goesler?” + +“I know nothing about that, Mr. Finn, and want to ask no questions. +But if you do, I am sure you agree with me that you often envy the +improper people,--the Bohemians,--the people who don’t trouble +themselves about keeping any laws except those for breaking which +they would be put into nasty, unpleasant prisons. I envy them. Oh, +how I envy them!” + +“But you are free as air.” + +“The most cabined, cribbed, and confined creature in the world! I +have been fighting my way up for the last four years, and have not +allowed myself the liberty of one flirtation;--not often even the +recreation of a natural laugh. And now I shouldn’t wonder if I don’t +find myself falling back a year or two, just because I have allowed +you to come and see me on a Sunday morning. When I told Lotta that +you were coming, she shook her head at me in dismay. But now that you +are here, tell me what you have done.” + +“Nothing as yet, Madame Goesler.” + +“I thought it was to have been settled on Friday?” + +“It was settled,--before Friday. Indeed, as I look back at it all +now, I can hardly tell when it was not settled. It is impossible, +and has been impossible, that I should do otherwise. I still hold my +place, Madame Goesler, but I have declared that I shall give it up +before the debate comes on.” + +“It is quite fixed?” + +“Quite fixed, my friend.” + +“And what next?” Madame Goesler, as she thus interrogated him, was +leaning across towards him from the sofa on which she was placed, +with both her elbows resting on a small table before her. We all know +that look of true interest which the countenance of a real friend +will bear when the welfare of his friend is in question. There are +doubtless some who can assume it without feeling,--as there are +actors who can personate all the passions. But in ordinary life we +think that we can trust such a face, and that we know the true look +when we see it. Phineas, as he gazed into Madame Goesler’s eyes, was +sure that the lady opposite him was not acting. She at least was +anxious for his welfare, and was making his cares her own. “What +next?” said she, repeating her words in a tone that was somewhat +hurried. + +“I do not know that there will be any next. As far as public life is +concerned, there will be no next for me, Madame Goesler.” + +“That is out of the question,” she said. “You are made for public +life.” + +“Then I shall be untrue to my making, I fear. But to speak plainly--” + +“Yes; speak plainly. I want to understand the reality.” + +“The reality is this. I shall keep my seat to the end of the session, +as I think I may be of use. After that I shall give it up.” + +“Resign that too?” she said in a tone of chagrin. + +“The chances are, I think, that there will be another dissolution. If +they hold their own against Mr. Monk’s motion, then they will pass an +Irish Reform Bill. After that I think they must dissolve.” + +“And you will not come forward again?” + +“I cannot afford it.” + +“Psha! Some five hundred pounds or so!” + +“And, besides that, I am well aware that my only chance at my old +profession is to give up all idea of Parliament. The two things are +not compatible for a beginner at the law. I know it now, and have +bought my knowledge by a bitter experience.” + +“And where will you live?” + +“In Dublin, probably.” + +“And you will do,--will do what?” + +“Anything honest in a barrister’s way that may be brought to me. I +hope that I may never descend below that.” + +“You will stand up for all the blackguards, and try to make out that +the thieves did not steal?” + +“It may be that that sort of work may come in my way.” + +“And you will wear a wig and try to look wise?” + +“The wig is not universal in Ireland, Madame Goesler.” + +“And you will wrangle, as though your very soul were in it, for +somebody’s twenty pounds?” + +“Exactly.” + +“You have already made a name in the greatest senate in the world, +and have governed other countries larger than your own--” + +“No;--I have not done that. I have governed no country.” + +“I tell you, my friend, that you cannot do it. It is out of the +question. Men may move forward from little work to big work; but they +cannot move back and do little work, when they have had tasks which +were really great. I tell you, Mr. Finn, that the House of Parliament +is the place for you to work in. It is the only place;--that and the +abodes of Ministers. Am not I your friend who tell you this?” + +“I know that you are my friend.” + +“And will you not credit me when I tell you this? What do you fear, +that you should run away? You have no wife;--no children. What is the +coming misfortune that you dread?” She paused a moment as though for +an answer, and he felt that now had come the time in which it would +be well that he should tell her of his engagement with his own Mary. +She had received him very playfully; but now within the last few +minutes there had come upon her a seriousness of gesture, and almost +a solemnity of tone, which made him conscious that he should in no +way trifle with her. She was so earnest in her friendship that he +owed it to her to tell her everything. But before he could think of +the words in which his tale should be told, she had gone on with her +quick questions. “Is it solely about money that you fear?” she said. + +“It is simply that I have no income on which to live.” + +“Have I not offered you money?” + +“But, Madame Goesler, you who offer it would yourself despise me if I +took it.” + +“No;--I do deny it.” As she said this,--not loudly but with much +emphasis,--she came and stood before him where he was sitting. And as +he looked at her he could perceive that there was a strength about +her of which he had not been aware. She was stronger, larger, more +robust physically than he had hitherto conceived. “I do deny it,” she +said. “Money is neither god nor devil, that it should make one noble +and another vile. It is an accident, and, if honestly possessed, may +pass from you to me, or from me to you, without a stain. You may +take my dinner from me if I give it you, my flowers, my friendship, +my,--my,--my everything, but my money! Explain to me the cause of the +phenomenon. If I give to you a thousand pounds, now this moment, and +you take it, you are base;--but if I leave it you in my will,--and +die,--you take it, and are not base. Explain to me the cause of +that.” + +“You have not said it quite all,” said Phineas hoarsely. + +“What have I left unsaid? If I have left anything unsaid, do you say +the rest.” + +“It is because you are a woman, and young, and beautiful, that no man +may take wealth from your hands.” + +“Oh, it is that!” + +“It is that partly,” + +“If I were a man you might take it, though I were young and beautiful +as the morning?” + +“No;--presents of money are always bad. They stain and load the +spirit, and break the heart.” + +“And specially when given by a woman’s hand?” + +“It seems so to me. But I cannot argue of it. Do not let us talk of +it any more.” + +“Nor can I argue. I cannot argue, but I can be generous,--very +generous. I can deny myself for my friend,--can even lower myself in +my own esteem for my friend. I can do more than a man can do for a +friend. You will not take money from my hand?” + +“No, Madame Goesler;--I cannot do that.” + +“Take the hand then first. When it and all that it holds are your +own, you can help yourself as you list.” So saying, she stood before +him with her right hand stretched out towards him. + +What man will say that he would not have been tempted? Or what woman +will declare that such temptation should have had no force? The very +air of the room in which she dwelt was sweet in his nostrils, and +there hovered around her an halo of grace and beauty which greeted +all his senses. She invited him to join his lot to hers, in order +that she might give to him all that was needed to make his life rich +and glorious. How would the Ratlers and the Bonteens envy him when +they heard of the prize which had become his! The Cantrips and the +Greshams would feel that he was a friend doubly valuable, if he could +be won back; and Mr. Monk would greet him as a fitting ally,--an ally +strong with the strength which he had before wanted. With whom would +he not be equal? Whom need he fear? Who would not praise him? The +story of his poor Mary would be known only in a small village, out +beyond the Channel. The temptation certainly was very strong. + +But he had not a moment in which to doubt. She was standing there +with her face turned from him, but with her hand still stretched +towards him. Of course he took it. What man so placed could do other +than take a woman’s hand? + +“My friend,” he said. + +“I will be called friend by you no more,” she said. “You must call me +Marie, your own Marie, or you must never call me by any name again. +Which shall it be, sir?” He paused a moment, holding her hand, and +she let it lie there for an instant while she listened. But still she +did not look at him. “Speak to me! Tell me! Which shall it be?” Still +he paused. “Speak to me. Tell me!” she said again. + +“It cannot be as you have hinted to me,” he said at last. His words +did not come louder than a low whisper; but they were plainly heard, +and instantly the hand was withdrawn. + +“Cannot be!” she exclaimed. “Then I have betrayed myself.” + +“No;--Madame Goesler.” + +“Sir; I say yes! If you will allow me I will leave you. You will, I +know, excuse me if I am abrupt to you.” Then she strode out of the +room, and was no more seen of the eyes of Phineas Finn. + +He never afterwards knew how he escaped out of that room and found +his way into Park Lane. In after days he had some memory that he +remained there, he knew not how long, standing on the very spot on +which she had left him; and that at last there grew upon him almost a +fear of moving, a dread lest he should be heard, an inordinate desire +to escape without the sound of a footfall, without the clicking of +a lock. Everything in that house had been offered to him. He had +refused it all, and then felt that of all human beings under the +sun none had so little right to be standing there as he. His very +presence in that drawing-room was an insult to the woman whom he had +driven from it. + +But at length he was in the street, and had found his way across +Piccadilly into the Green Park. Then, as soon as he could find a spot +apart from the Sunday world, he threw himself upon the turf; and +tried to fix his thoughts upon the thing that he had done. His first +feeling, I think, was one of pure and unmixed disappointment;--of +disappointment so bitter, that even the vision of his own Mary did +not tend to comfort him. How great might have been his success, and +how terrible was his failure! Had he taken the woman’s hand and her +money, had he clenched his grasp on the great prize offered to him, +his misery would have been ten times worse the first moment that he +would have been away from her. Then, indeed,--it being so that he +was a man with a heart within his breast,--there would have been no +comfort for him, in his outlooks on any side. But even now, when he +had done right,--knowing well that he had done right,--he found that +comfort did not come readily within his reach. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIII + +Amantium Iræ + + +Miss Effingham’s life at this time was not the happiest in the world. +Her lines, as she once said to her friend Lady Laura, were not +laid for her in pleasant places. Her residence was still with her +aunt, and she had come to find that it was almost impossible any +longer to endure Lady Baldock, and quite impossible to escape from +Lady Baldock. In former days she had had a dream that she might +escape, and live alone if she chose to be alone; that she might be +independent in her life, as a man is independent, if she chose to +live after that fashion; that she might take her own fortune in her +own hand, as the law certainly allowed her to do, and act with it as +she might please. But latterly she had learned to understand that all +this was not possible for her. Though one law allowed it, another law +disallowed it, and the latter law was at least as powerful as the +former. And then her present misery was enhanced by the fact that +she was now banished from the second home which she had formerly +possessed. Hitherto she had always been able to escape from Lady +Baldock to the house of her friend, but now such escape was out of +the question. Lady Laura and Lord Chiltern lived in the same house, +and Violet could not live with them. + +Lady Baldock understood all this, and tortured her niece accordingly. +It was not premeditated torture. The aunt did not mean to make her +niece’s life a burden to her, and, so intending, systematically work +upon a principle to that effect. Lady Baldock, no doubt, desired +to do her duty conscientiously. But the result was torture to poor +Violet, and a strong conviction on the mind of each of the two ladies +that the other was the most unreasonable being in the world. + +The aunt, in these days, had taken it into her head to talk of poor +Lord Chiltern. This arose partly from a belief that the quarrel was +final, and that, therefore, there would be no danger in aggravating +Violet by this expression of pity,--partly from a feeling that it +would be better that her niece should marry Lord Chiltern than that +she should not marry at all,--and partly, perhaps, from the general +principle that, as she thought it right to scold her niece on all +occasions, this might be best done by taking an opposite view of +all questions to that taken by the niece to be scolded. Violet was +supposed to regard Lord Chiltern as having sinned against her, and +therefore Lady Baldock talked of “poor Lord Chiltern.” As to the +other lovers, she had begun to perceive that their conditions were +hopeless. Her daughter Augusta had explained to her that there was +no chance remaining either for Phineas, or for Lord Fawn, or for Mr. +Appledom. “I believe she will be an old maid, on purpose to bring me +to my grave,” said Lady Baldock. When, therefore, Lady Baldock was +told one day that Lord Chiltern was in the house, and was asking to +see Miss Effingham, she did not at once faint away, and declare that +they would all be murdered,--as she would have done some months +since. She was perplexed by a double duty. If it were possible that +Violet should relent and be reconciled, then it would be her duty to +save Violet from the claws of the wild beast. But if there was no +such chance, then it would be her duty to poor Lord Chiltern to see +that he was not treated with contumely and ill-humour. + +“Does she know that he is here?” Lady Baldock asked her daughter. + +“Not yet, mamma.” + +“Oh dear, oh dear! I suppose she ought to see him. She has given him +so much encouragement!” + +“I suppose she will do as she pleases, mamma.” + +“Augusta, how can you talk in that way? Am I to have no control in my +own house?” It was, however, soon apparent to her that in this matter +she was to have no control. + +“Lord Chiltern is down-stairs,” said Violet, coming into the room +abruptly. + +“So Augusta tells me. Sit down, my dear.” + +“I cannot sit down, aunt,--not just now. I have sent down to say that +I would be with him in a minute. He is the most impatient soul alive, +and I must not keep him waiting.” + +“And you mean to see him?” + +“Certainly I shall see him,” said Violet, as she left the room. + +“I wonder that any woman should ever take upon herself the charge of +a niece!” said Lady Baldock to her daughter in a despondent tone, as +she held up her hands in dismay. In the meantime, Violet had gone +down-stairs with a quick step, and had then boldly entered the room +in which her lover was waiting to receive her. + +“I have to thank you for coming to me, Violet,” said Lord Chiltern. +There was still in his face something of savagery,--an expression +partly of anger and partly of resolution to tame the thing with which +he was angry. Violet did not regard the anger half so keenly as she +did that resolution of taming. An angry lord, she thought, she could +endure, but she could not bear the idea of being tamed by any one. + +“Why should I not come?” she said. “Of course I came when I was told +that you were here. I do not think that there need be a quarrel +between us, because we have changed our minds.” + +“Such changes make quarrels,” said he. + +“It shall not do so with me, unless you choose that it shall,” said +Violet. “Why should we be enemies,--we who have known each other +since we were children? My dearest friends are your father and your +sister. Why should we be enemies?” + +“I have come to ask you whether you think that I have ill-used you?” + +“Ill-used me! Certainly not. Has any one told you that I have accused +you?” + +“No one has told me so.” + +“Then why do you ask me?” + +“Because I would not have you think so,--if I could help it. I did +not intend to be rough with you. When you told me that my life was +disreputable--” + +“Oh, Oswald, do not let us go back to that. What good will it do?” + +“But you said so.” + +“I think not.” + +“I believe that that was your word,--the harshest word that you could +use in all the language.” + +“I did not mean to be harsh. If I used it, I will beg your pardon. +Only let there be an end of it. As we think so differently about life +in general, it was better that we should not be married. But that +is settled, and why should we go back to words that were spoken in +haste, and which are simply disagreeable?” + +“I have come to know whether it is settled.” + +“Certainly. You settled it yourself, Oswald. I told you what I +thought myself bound to tell you. Perhaps I used language which I +should not have used. Then you told me that I could not be your +wife;--and I thought you were right, quite right.” + +“I was wrong, quite wrong,” he said impetuously. “So wrong, that I +can never forgive myself, if you do not relent. I was such a fool, +that I cannot forgive myself my folly. I had known before that I +could not live without you; and when you were mine, I threw you away +for an angry word.” + +“It was not an angry word,” she said. + +“Say it again, and let me have another chance to answer it.” + +“I think I said that idleness was not,--respectable, or something +like that, taken out of a copy-book probably. But you are a man who +do not like rebukes, even out of copy-books. A man so thin-skinned +as you are must choose for himself a wife with a softer tongue than +mine.” + +“I will choose none other!” he said. But still he was savage in his +tone and in his gestures. “I made my choice long since, as you know +well enough. I do not change easily. I cannot change in this. Violet, +say that you will be my wife once more, and I will swear to work for +you like a coal-heaver.” + +“My wish is that my husband,--should I ever have one,--should work, +not exactly as a coal-heaver.” + +“Come, Violet,” he said,--and now the look of savagery departed from +him, and there came a smile over his face, which, however, had in it +more of sadness than of hope or joy,--“treat me fairly,--or rather, +treat me generously if you can. I do not know whether you ever loved +me much.” + +“Very much,--years ago, when you were a boy.” + +“But not since? If it be so, I had better go. Love on one side only +is a poor affair at best.” + +“A very poor affair.” + +“It is better to bear anything than to try and make out life with +that. Some of you women never want to love any one.” + +“That was what I was saying of myself to Laura but the other day. +With some women it is so easy. With others it is so difficult, that +perhaps it never comes to them.” + +“And with you?” + +“Oh, with me--. But it is better in these matters to confine +oneself to generalities. If you please, I will not describe myself +personally. Were I to do so, doubtless I should do it falsely.” + +“You love no one else, Violet?” + +“That is my affair, my lord.” + +“By heavens, and it is mine too. Tell me that you do, and I will +go away and leave you at once. I will not ask his name, and I will +trouble you no more. If it is not so, and if it is possible that you +should forgive me--” + +“Forgive you! When have I been angry with you?” + +“Answer me my question, Violet.” + +“I will not answer you your question,--not that one.” + +“What question will you answer?” + +“Any that may concern yourself and myself. None that may concern +other people.” + +“You told me once that you loved me.” + +“This moment I told you that I did so,--years ago.” + +“But now?” + +“That is another matter.” + +“Violet, do you love me now?” + +“That is a point-blank question at any rate,” she said. + +“And you will answer it?” + +“I must answer it,--I suppose.” + +“Well, then?” + +“Oh, Oswald, what a fool you are! Love you! of course I love you. +If you can understand anything, you ought to know that I have never +loved any one else;--that after what has passed between us, I never +shall love any one else. I do love you. There. Whether you throw me +away from you, as you did the other day,--with great scorn, mind +you,--or come to me with sweet, beautiful promises, as you do now, I +shall love you all the same. I cannot be your wife, if you will not +have me; can I? When you run away in your tantrums because I quote +something out of the copy-book, I can’t run after you. It would not +be pretty. But as for loving you, if you doubt that, I tell you, you +are a--fool.” As she spoke the last words she pouted out her lips at +him, and when he looked into her face he saw that her eyes were full +of tears. He was standing now with his arm round her waist, so that +it was not easy for him to look into her face. + +“I am a fool,” he said. + +“Yes;--you are; but I don’t love you the less on that account.” + +“I will never doubt it again.” + +“No;--do not; and, for me, I will not say another word, whether you +choose to heave coals or not. You shall do as you please. I meant to +be very wise;--I did indeed.” + +“You are the grandest girl that ever was made.” + +“I do not want to be grand at all, and I never will be wise any more. +Only do not frown at me and look savage.” Then she put up her hand +to smooth his brow. “I am half afraid of you still, you know. There. +That will do. Now let me go, that I may tell my aunt. During the last +two months she has been full of pity for poor Lord Chiltern.” + +“It has been poor Lord Chiltern with a vengeance!” said he. + +“But now that we have made it up, she will be horrified again at all +your wickednesses. You have been a turtle dove lately;--now you will +be an ogre again. But, Oswald, you must not be an ogre to me.” + +As soon as she could get quit of her lover, she did tell her tale to +Lady Baldock. “You have accepted him again!” said her aunt, holding +up her hands. “Yes,--I have accepted him again,” replied Violet. +“Then the responsibility must be on your own shoulders,” said her +aunt; “I wash my hands of it.” That evening, when she discussed the +matter with her daughter, Lady Baldock spoke of Violet and Lord +Chiltern, as though their intended marriage were the one thing in the +world which she most deplored. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIV + +The Beginning of the End + + +The day of the debate had come, and Phineas Finn was still sitting in +his room at the Colonial Office. But his resignation had been sent in +and accepted, and he was simply awaiting the coming of his successor. +About noon his successor came, and he had the gratification of +resigning his arm-chair to Mr. Bonteen. It is generally understood +that gentlemen leaving offices give up either seals or a portfolio. +Phineas had been put in possession of no seal and no portfolio; but +there was in the room which he had occupied a special arm-chair, and +this with much regret he surrendered to the use and comfort of Mr. +Bonteen. There was a glance of triumph in his enemy’s eyes, and an +exultation in the tone of his enemy’s voice, which were very bitter +to him. “So you are really going?” said Mr. Bonteen. “Well; I dare +say it is all very proper. I don’t quite understand the thing myself, +but I have no doubt you are right.” “It isn’t easy to understand; is +it?” said Phineas, trying to laugh. But Mr. Bonteen did not feel the +intended satire, and poor Phineas found it useless to attempt to +punish the man he hated. He left him as quickly as he could, and went +to say a few words of farewell to his late chief. + +“Good-bye, Finn,” said Lord Cantrip. “It is a great trouble to me +that we should have to part in this way.” + +“And to me also, my lord. I wish it could have been avoided.” + +“You should not have gone to Ireland with so dangerous a man as Mr. +Monk. But it is too late to think of that now.” + +“The milk is spilt; is it not?” + +“But these terrible rendings asunder never last very long,” said +Lord Cantrip, “unless a man changes his opinions altogether. How +many quarrels and how many reconciliations we have lived to see! I +remember when Gresham went out of office, because he could not sit +in the same room with Mr. Mildmay, and yet they became the fastest +of political friends. There was a time when Plinlimmon and the Duke +could not stable their horses together at all; and don’t you remember +when Palliser was obliged to give up his hopes of office because he +had some bee in his bonnet?” I think, however, that the bee in Mr. +Palliser’s bonnet to which Lord Cantrip was alluding made its buzzing +audible on some subject that was not exactly political. “We shall +have you back again before long, I don’t doubt. Men who can really do +their work are too rare to be left long in the comfort of the benches +below the gangway.” This was very kindly said, and Phineas was +flattered and comforted. He could not, however, make Lord Cantrip +understand the whole truth. For him the dream of a life of politics +was over for ever. He had tried it, and had succeeded beyond his +utmost hopes; but, in spite of his success, the ground had crumbled +to pieces beneath his feet, and he knew that he could never recover +the niche in the world’s gallery which he was now leaving. + +That same afternoon he met Mr. Gresham in one of the passages leading +to the House, and the Prime Minister put his arm through that of our +hero as they walked together into the lobby. “I am sorry that we are +losing you,” said Mr. Gresham. + +“You may be sure that I am sorry to be so lost,” said Phineas. + +“These things will occur in political life,” said the leader; “but +I think that they seldom leave rancour behind them when the purpose +is declared, and when the subject of disagreement is marked and +understood. The defalcation which creates angry feeling is that which +has to be endured without previous warning,--when a man votes against +his party,--or a set of men, from private pique or from some cause +which is never clear.” Phineas, when he heard this, knew well how +terribly this very man had been harassed, and driven nearly wild, +by defalcation, exactly of that nature which he was attempting to +describe. “No doubt you and Mr. Monk think you are right,” continued +Mr. Gresham. + +“We have given strong evidence that we think so,” said Phineas. “We +give up our places, and we are, both of us, very poor men.” + +“I think you are wrong, you know, not so much in your views on the +question itself--which, to tell the truth, I hardly understand as +yet.” + +“We will endeavour to explain them.” + +“And will do so very clearly, no doubt. But I think that Mr. Monk was +wrong in desiring, as a member of a Government, to force a measure +which, whether good or bad, the Government as a body does not desire +to initiate,--at any rate, just now.” + +“And therefore he resigned,” said Phineas. + +“Of course. But it seems to me that he failed to comprehend the only +way in which a great party can act together, if it is to do any +service in this country. Don’t for a moment think that I am blaming +him or you.” + +“I am nobody in this matter,” said Phineas. + +“I can assure you, Mr. Finn, that we have not regarded you in that +light, and I hope that the time may come when we may be sitting +together again on the same bench.” + +Neither on the Treasury bench nor on any other in that House was +he to sit again after this fashion! That was the trouble which was +crushing his spirit at this moment, and not the loss of his office! +He knew that he could not venture to think of remaining in London +as a member of Parliament with no other income than that which his +father could allow him, even if he could again secure a seat in +Parliament. When he had first been returned for Loughshane he had +assured his friends that his duty as a member of the House of Commons +would not be a bar to his practice in the Courts. He had now been +five years a member, and had never once made an attempt at doing any +part of a barrister’s work. He had gone altogether into a different +line of life, and had been most successful;--so successful that men +told him, and women more frequently than men, that his career had +been a miracle of success. But there had been, as he had well known +from the first, this drawback in the new profession which he had +chosen, that nothing in it could be permanent. They who succeed in +it, may probably succeed again; but then the success is intermittent, +and there may be years of hard work in opposition, to which, +unfortunately, no pay is assigned. It is almost imperative, as he now +found, that they who devote themselves to such a profession should +be men of fortune. When he had commenced his work,--at the period of +his first return for Loughshane,--he had had no thought of mending +his deficiency in this respect by a rich marriage. Nor had it ever +occurred to him that he would seek a marriage for that purpose. Such +an idea would have been thoroughly distasteful to him. There had been +no stain of premeditated mercenary arrangement upon him at any time. +But circumstances had so fallen out with him, that as he won his +spurs in Parliament, as he became known, and was placed first in one +office and then in another, prospects of love and money together were +opened to him, and he ventured on, leaving Mr. Low and the law behind +him,--because these prospects were so alluring. Then had come Mr. +Monk and Mary Flood Jones,--and everything around him had collapsed. + +Everything around him had collapsed,--with, however, a terrible +temptation to him to inflate his sails again, at the cost of his +truth and his honour. The temptation would have affected him +not at all, had Madame Goesler been ugly, stupid, or personally +disagreeable. But she was, he thought, the most beautiful woman +he had ever seen, the most witty, and in many respects the most +charming. She had offered to give him everything that she had, so to +place him in the world that opposition would be more pleasant to him +than office, to supply every want, and had done so in a manner that +had gratified all his vanity. But he had refused it all, because he +was bound to the girl at Floodborough. My readers will probably say +that he was not a true man unless he could do this without a regret. +When Phineas thought of it all, there were many regrets. + +But there was at the same time a resolve on his part, that if any man +had ever loved the girl he promised to love, he would love Mary Flood +Jones. A thousand times he had told himself that she had not the +spirit of Lady Laura, or the bright wit of Violet Effingham, or the +beauty of Madame Goesler. But Mary had charms of her own that were +more valuable than them all. Was there one among the three who had +trusted him as she trusted him,--or loved him with the same satisfied +devotion? There were regrets, regrets that were heavy on his +heart;--for London, and Parliament, and the clubs, and Downing +Street, had become dear to him. He liked to think of himself as he +rode in the park, and was greeted by all those whose greeting was +the most worth having. There were regrets,--sad regrets. But the +girl whom he loved better than the parks and the clubs,--better even +than Westminster and Downing Street, should never know that they had +existed. + +These thoughts were running through his mind even while he was +listening to Mr. Monk, as he propounded his theory of doing justice +to Ireland. This might probably be the last great debate in which +Phineas would be able to take a part, and he was determined that he +would do his best in it. He did not intend to speak on this day, if, +as was generally supposed, the House would be adjourned before a +division could be obtained. But he would remain on the alert and see +how the thing went. He had come to understand the forms of the place, +and was as well-trained a young member of Parliament as any there. He +had been quick at learning a lesson that is not easily learned, and +knew how things were going, and what were the proper moments for this +question or that form of motion. He could anticipate a count-out, +understood the tone of men’s minds, and could read the gestures of +the House. It was very little likely that the debate should be over +to-night. He knew that; and as the present time was the evening of +Tuesday, he resolved at once that he would speak as early as he could +on the following Thursday. What a pity it was, that with one who had +learned so much, all his learning should be in vain! + +At about two o’clock, he himself succeeded in moving the adjournment +of the debate. This he did from a seat below the gangway, to which he +had removed himself from the Treasury bench. Then the House was up, +and he walked home with Mr. Monk. Mr. Monk, since he had been told +positively by Phineas that he had resolved upon resigning his office, +had said nothing more of his sorrow at his friend’s resolve, but had +used him as one political friend uses another, telling him all his +thoughts and all his hopes as to this new measure of his, and taking +counsel with him as to the way in which the fight should be fought. +Together they had counted over the list of members, marking these +men as supporters, those as opponents, and another set, now more +important than either, as being doubtful. From day to day those who +had been written down as doubtful were struck off that third list, +and put in either the one or the other of those who were either +supporters or opponents. And their different modes of argument were +settled between these two allied orators, how one should take this +line and the other that. To Mr. Monk this was very pleasant. He was +quite assured now that opposition was more congenial to his spirit, +and more fitting for him than office. There was no doubt to him as +to his future sitting in Parliament, let the result of this contest +be what it might. The work which he was now doing, was the work for +which he had been training himself all his life. While he had been +forced to attend Cabinet Councils from week to week, he had been +depressed. Now he was exultant. Phineas seeing and understanding all +this, said but little to his friend of his own prospects. As long as +this pleasant battle was raging, he could fight in it shoulder to +shoulder with the man he loved. After that there would be a blank. + +“I do not see how we are to fail to have a majority after Daubeny’s +speech to-night,” said Mr. Monk, as they walked together down +Parliament Street through the bright moonlight. + +“He expressly said that he only spoke for himself,” said Phineas. + +“But we know what that means. He is bidding for office, and of course +those who want office with him will vote as he votes. We have already +counted those who would go into office, but they will not carry the +whole party.” + +“It will carry enough of them.” + +“There are forty or fifty men on his side of the House, and as many +perhaps on ours,” said Mr. Monk, “who have no idea of any kind on +any bill, and who simply follow the bell, whether into this lobby +or that. Argument never touches them. They do not even look to the +result of a division on their own interests, as the making of any +calculation would be laborious to them. Their party leader is to them +a Pope whom they do not dream of doubting. I never can quite make up +my mind whether it is good or bad that there should be such men in +Parliament.” + +“Men who think much want to speak often,” said Phineas. + +“Exactly so,--and of speaking members, God knows that we have enough. +And I suppose that these purblind sheep do have some occult weight +that is salutary. They enable a leader to be a leader, and even in +that way they are useful. We shall get a division on Thursday.” + +“I understand that Gresham has consented to that.” + +“So Ratler told me. Palliser is to speak, and Barrington Erle. And +they say that Robson is going to make an onslaught specially on me. +We shall get it over by one o’clock.” + +“And if we beat them?” asked Phineas. + +“It will depend on the numbers. Everybody who has spoken to me about +it, seems to think that they will dissolve if there be a respectable +majority against them.” + +“Of course he will dissolve,” said Phineas, speaking of Mr. Gresham; +“what else can he do?” + +“He is very anxious to carry his Irish Reform Bill first, if he can +do so. Good-night, Phineas. I shall not be down to-morrow as there +is nothing to be done. Come to me on Thursday, and we will go to the +House together.” + +On the Wednesday Phineas was engaged to dine with Mr. Low. There +was a dinner party in Bedford Square, and Phineas met half-a-dozen +barristers and their wives,--men to whom he had looked up as +successful pundits in the law some five or six years ago, but who +since that time had almost learned to look up to him. And now they +treated him with that courteousness of manner which success in life +always begets. There was a judge there who was very civil to him; and +the judge’s wife whom he had taken down to dinner was very gracious +to him. The judge had got his prize in life, and was therefore +personally indifferent to the fate of ministers; but the judge’s wife +had a brother who wanted a County Court from Lord De Terrier, and it +was known that Phineas was giving valuable assistance towards the +attainment of this object. “I do think that you and Mr. Monk are so +right,” said the judge’s wife. Phineas, who understood how it came to +pass that the judge’s wife should so cordially approve his conduct, +could not help thinking how grand a thing it would be for him to have +a County Court for himself. + +When the guests were gone he was left alone with Mr. and Mrs. Low, +and remained awhile with them, there having been an understanding +that they should have a last chat together over the affairs of our +hero. “Do you really mean that you will not stand again?” asked Mrs. +Low. + +“I do mean it. I may say that I cannot do so. My father is hardly +so well able to help me as he was when I began this game, and I +certainly shall not ask him for money to support a canvass.” + +“It’s a thousand pities,” said Mrs. Low. + +“I really had begun to think that you would make it answer,” said Mr. +Low. + +“In one way I have made it answer. For the last three years I have +lived upon what I have earned, and I am not in debt. But now I must +begin the world again. I am afraid I shall find the drudgery very +hard.” + +“It is hard no doubt,” said the barrister, who had gone through it +all, and was now reaping the fruits of it. “But I suppose you have +not forgotten what you learned?” + +“Who can say? I dare say I have. But I did not mean the drudgery +of learning, so much as the drudgery of looking after work;--of +expecting briefs which perhaps will never come. I am thirty years old +now, you know.” + +“Are you indeed?” said Mrs. Low,--who knew his age to a day. “How the +time passes. I’m sure I hope you’ll get on, Mr. Finn. I do indeed.” + +“I am sure he will, if he puts his shoulder to it,” said Mr. Low. + +Neither the lawyer nor his wife repeated any of those sententious +admonitions, which had almost become rebukes, and which had been +so common in their mouths. The fall with which they had threatened +Phineas Finn had come upon him, and they were too generous to remind +him of their wisdom and sagacity. Indeed, when he got up to take his +leave, Mrs. Low, who probably might not see him again for years, was +quite affectionate in her manners to him, and looked as if she were +almost minded to kiss him as she pressed his hand. “We will come and +see you,” she said, “when you are Master of the Rolls in Dublin.” + +“We shall see him before then thundering at us poor Tories in the +House,” said Mr. Low. “He will be back again sooner or later.” And +so they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXV + +P. P. C. + + +On the Thursday morning before Phineas went to Mr. Monk, a gentleman +called upon him at his lodgings. Phineas requested the servant to +bring up the gentleman’s name, but tempted perhaps by a shilling the +girl brought up the gentleman instead. It was Mr. Quintus Slide from +the office of the “Banner of the People.” + +“Mr. Finn,” said Quintus, with his hand extended, “I have come to +offer you the calumet of peace.” Phineas certainly desired no such +calumet. But to refuse a man’s hand is to declare active war after a +fashion which men do not like to adopt except on deliberation. He had +never cared a straw for the abuse which Mr. Slide had poured upon +him, and now he gave his hand to the man of letters. But he did not +sit down, nor did he offer a seat to Mr. Slide. “I know that as a man +of sense who knows the world, you will accept the calumet of peace,” +continued Mr. Slide. + +“I don’t know why I should be asked particularly to accept war or +peace,” said Phineas. + +“Well, Mr. Finn,--I don’t often quote the Bible; but those who are +not for us must be against us. You will agree to that. Now that +you’ve freed yourself from the iniquities of that sink of abomination +in Downing Street, I look upon you as a man again.” + +“Upon my word you are very kind.” + +“As a man and also a brother. I suppose you know that I’ve got the +_Banner_ into my own ’ands now.” Phineas was obliged to explain that +he had not hitherto been made acquainted with this great literary +and political secret. “Oh dear, yes, altogether so. We’ve got rid of +old Rusty as I used to call him. He wouldn’t go the pace, and so we +stripped him. He’s doing the _West of England Art Journal_ now, and +he ’angs out down at Bristol.” + +“I hope he’ll succeed, Mr. Slide.” + +“He’ll earn his wages. He’s a man who will always earn his wages, but +nothing more. Well, now, Mr. Finn, I will just offer you one word of +apology for our little severities.” + +“Pray do nothing of the kind.” + +“Indeed I shall. Dooty is dooty. There was some things printed which +were a little rough, but if one isn’t a little rough there ain’t no +flavour. Of course I wrote ’em. You know my ’and, I dare say.” + +“I only remember that there was some throwing of mud.” + +“Just so. But mud don’t break any bones; does it? When you turned +against us I had to be down on you, and I was down upon you;--that’s +just about all of it. Now you’re coming among us again, and so I come +to you with a calumet of peace.” + +“But I am not coming among you.” + +“Yes you are, Finn, and bringing Monk with you.” It was now becoming +very disagreeable, and Phineas was beginning to perceive that it +would soon be his turn to say something rough. “Now I’ll tell you +what my proposition is. If you’ll do us two leaders a week through +the session, you shall have a cheque for £16 on the last day of every +month. If that’s not honester money than what you got in Downing +Street, my name is not Quintus Slide.” + +“Mr. Slide,” said Phineas,--and then he paused. + +“If we are to come to business, drop the Mister. It makes things go +so much easier.” + +“We are not to come to business, and I do not want things to go easy. +I believe you said some things of me in your newspaper that were very +scurrilous.” + +“What of that? If you mind that sort of thing--” + +“I did not regard it in the least. You are quite welcome to continue +it. I don’t doubt but you will continue it. But you are not welcome +to come here afterwards.” + +“Do you mean to turn me out?” + +“Just that. You printed a heap of lies--” + +“Lies, Mr. Finn! Did you say lies, sir?” + +“I said lies;--lies;--lies!” And Phineas walked over at him as though +he were going to pitch him instantly out of the window. “You may go +and write as many more as you like. It is your trade, and you must do +it or starve. But do not come to me again.” Then he opened the door +and stood with it in his hand. + +“Very well, sir. I shall know how to punish this.” + +“Exactly. But if you please you’ll go and do your punishment at the +office of the _Banner_,--unless you like to try it here. You want to +kick me and spit at me, but you will prefer to do it in print.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Quintus Slide. “I shall prefer to do it in +print,--though I must own that the temptation to adopt the manual +violence of a ruffian is great, very great, very great indeed.” But +he resisted the temptation and walked down the stairs, concocting his +article as he went. + +Mr. Quintus Slide did not so much impede the business of his day but +what Phineas was with Mr. Monk by two, and in his place in the House +when prayers were read at four. As he sat in his place, conscious +of the work that was before him, listening to the presentation of +petitions, and to the formal reading of certain notices of motions, +which with the asking of sundry questions occupied over half an +hour, he looked back and remembered accurately his own feelings on +a certain night on which he had intended to get up and address the +House. The ordeal before him had then been so terrible, that it had +almost obliterated for the moment his senses of hearing and of sight. +He had hardly been able to perceive what had been going on around +him, and had vainly endeavoured to occupy himself in recalling to +his memory the words which he wished to pronounce. When the time for +pronouncing them had come, he had found himself unable to stand upon +his legs. He smiled as he recalled all this in his memory, waiting +impatiently for the moment in which he might rise. His audience was +assured to him now, and he did not fear it. His opportunity for +utterance was his own, and even the Speaker could not deprive him of +it. During these minutes he thought not at all of the words that he +was to say. He had prepared his matter but had prepared no words. He +knew that words would come readily enough to him, and that he had +learned the task of turning his thoughts quickly into language while +standing with a crowd of listeners around him,--as a practised writer +does when seated in his chair. There was no violent beating at his +heart now, no dimness of the eyes, no feeling that the ground was +turning round under his feet. If only those weary vain questions +would get themselves all asked, so that he might rise and begin the +work of the night. Then there came the last thought as the House was +hushed for his rising. What was the good of it all, when he would +never have an opportunity of speaking there again? + +But not on that account would he be slack in his endeavour now. +He would be listened to once at least, not as a subaltern of the +Government but as the owner of a voice prominent in opposition to +the Government. He had been taught by Mr. Monk that that was the one +place in the House in which a man with a power of speaking could +really enjoy pleasure without alloy. He would make the trial,--once, +if never again. Things had so gone with him that the rostrum was his +own, and a House crammed to overflowing was there to listen to him. +He had given up his place in order that he might be able to speak his +mind, and had become aware that many intended to listen to him while +he spoke. He had observed that the rows of strangers were thick in +the galleries, that peers were standing in the passages, and that +over the reporter’s head, the ribbons of many ladies were to be seen +through the bars of their cage. Yes;--for this once he would have an +audience. + +He spoke for about an hour, and while he was speaking he knew nothing +about himself, whether he was doing it well or ill. Something of +himself he did say soon after he had commenced,--not quite beginning +with it, as though his mind had been laden with the matter. He had, +he said, found himself compelled to renounce his happy allegiance to +the First Lord of the Treasury, and to quit the pleasant company in +which, humble as had been his place, he had been allowed to sit and +act, by his unfortunate conviction in this great subject. He had been +told, he said, that it was a misfortune in itself for one so young as +he to have convictions. But his Irish birth and Irish connection had +brought this misfortune of his country so closely home to him that he +had found the task of extricating himself from it to be impossible. +Of what further he said, speaking on that terribly unintelligible +subject, a tenant-right proposed for Irish farmers, no English reader +will desire to know much. Irish subjects in the House of Commons +are interesting or are dull, are debated before a crowded audience +composed of all who are leaders in the great world of London, or +before empty benches, in accordance with the importance of the moment +and the character of the debate. For us now it is enough to know that +to our hero was accorded that attention which orators love,--which +will almost make an orator if it can be assured. A full House with a +promise of big type on the next morning would wake to eloquence the +propounder of a Canadian grievance, or the mover of an Indian budget. + +Phineas did not stir out of the House till the division was over, +having agreed with Mr. Monk that they two would remain through it +all and hear everything that was to be said. Mr. Gresham had already +spoken, and to Mr. Palliser was confided the task of winding up +the argument for the Government. Mr. Robson spoke also, greatly +enlivening the tedium of the evening, and to Mr. Monk was permitted +the privilege of a final reply. At two o’clock the division came, and +the Ministry were beaten by a majority of twenty-three. “And now,” +said Mr. Monk, as he again walked home with Phineas, “the pity is +that we are not a bit nearer tenant-right than we were before.” + +“But we are nearer to it.” + +“In one sense, yes. Such a debate and such a majority will make men +think. But no;--think is too high a word; as a rule men don’t think. +But it will make them believe that there is something in it. Many who +before regarded legislation on the subject as chimerical, will now +fancy that it is only dangerous, or perhaps not more than difficult. +And so in time it will come to be looked on as among the things +possible, then among the things probable;--and so at last it will be +ranged in the list of those few measures which the country requires +as being absolutely needed. That is the way in which public opinion +is made.” + +“It is no loss of time,” said Phineas, “to have taken the first great +step in making it.” + +“The first great step was taken long ago,” said Mr. Monk,--“taken +by men who were looked upon as revolutionary demagogues, almost as +traitors, because they took it. But it is a great thing to take any +step that leads us onwards.” + +Two days after this Mr. Gresham declared his intention of dissolving +the House because of the adverse division which had been produced by +Mr. Monk’s motion, but expressed a wish to be allowed to carry an +Irish Reform Bill through Parliament before he did so. He explained +how expedient this would be, but declared at the same time that if +any strong opposition were made, he would abandon the project. His +intention simply was to pass with regard to Ireland a measure which +must be passed soon, and which ought to be passed before a new +election took place. The bill was ready, and should be read for the +first time on the next night, if the House were willing. The House +was willing, though there were very many recalcitrant Irish members. +The Irish members made loud opposition, and then twitted Mr. Gresham +with his promise that he would not go on with his bill, if opposition +were made. But, nevertheless, he did go on, and the measure was +hurried through the two Houses in a week. Our hero who still sat for +Loughshane, but who was never to sit for Loughshane again, gave what +assistance he could to the Government, and voted for the measure +which deprived Loughshane for ever of its parliamentary honours. + +“And very dirty conduct I think it was,” said Lord Tulla, when he +discussed the subject with his agent. “After being put in for the +borough twice, almost free of expense, it was very dirty.” It never +occurred to Lord Tulla that a member of Parliament might feel himself +obliged to vote on such a subject in accordance with his judgment. + +This Irish Reform Bill was scrambled through the two Houses, and +then the session was over. The session was over, and they who knew +anything of the private concerns of Mr. Phineas Finn were aware that +he was about to return to Ireland, and did not intend to reappear on +the scene which had known him so well for the last five years. “I +cannot tell you how sad it makes me,” said Mr. Monk. + +“And it makes me sad too,” said Phineas. “I try to shake off the +melancholy, and tell myself from day to day that it is unmanly. But +it gets the better of me just at present.” + +“I feel quite certain that you will come back among us again,” said +Mr. Monk. + +“Everybody tells me so; and yet I feel quite certain that I shall +never come back,--never come back with a seat in Parliament. As my +old tutor, Low, has told me scores of times, I began at the wrong +end. Here I am, thirty years of age, and I have not a shilling in the +world, and I do not know how to earn one.” + +“Only for me you would still be receiving ever so much a year, and +all would be pleasant,” said Mr. Monk. + +“But how long would it have lasted? The first moment that Daubeny got +the upper hand I should have fallen lower than I have fallen now. If +not this year, it would have been the next. My only comfort is in +this,--that I have done the thing myself, and have not been turned +out.” To the very last, however, Mr. Monk continued to express his +opinion that Phineas would come back, declaring that he had known no +instance of a young man who had made himself useful in Parliament, +and then had been allowed to leave it in early life. + +Among those of whom he was bound to take a special leave, the members +of the family of Lord Brentford were, of course, the foremost. He +had already heard of the reconciliation of Miss Effingham and Lord +Chiltern, and was anxious to offer his congratulation to both of +them. And it was essential to him that he should see Lady Laura. To +her he wrote a line, saying how much he hoped that he should be able +to bid her adieu, and a time was fixed for his coming at which she +knew that she would meet him alone. But, as chance ruled it, he came +upon the two lovers together, and then remembered that he had hardly +ever before been in the same room with both of them at the same time. + +“Oh, Mr. Finn, what a beautiful speech you made. I read every word of +it,” said Violet. + +“And I didn’t even look at it, old fellow,” said Chiltern, getting up +and putting his arm on the other’s shoulder in a way that was common +with him when he was quite intimate with the friend near him. + +“Laura went down and heard it,” said Violet. “I could not do that, +because I was tied to my aunt. You can’t conceive how dutiful I am +during this last month.” + +“And is it to be in a month, Chiltern?” said Phineas. + +“She says so. She arranges everything,--in concert with my father. +When I threw up the sponge, I simply asked for a long day. ‘A long +day, my lord,’ I said. But my father and Violet between them refused +me any mercy.” + +“You do not believe him,” said Violet. + +“Not a word. If I did he would want to see me on the coast of +Flanders again, I don’t doubt. I have come to congratulate you both.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Finn,” said Violet, taking his hand with hearty +kindness. “I should not have been quite happy without one nice word +from you.” + +“I shall try and make the best of it,” said Chiltern. “But, I say, +you’ll come over and ride Bonebreaker again. He’s down there at +the Bull, and I’ve taken a little box close by. I can’t stand the +governor’s county for hunting.” + +“And will your wife go down to Willingford?” + +“Of course she will, and ride to hounds a great deal closer than I +can ever do. Mind you come, and if there’s anything in the stable fit +to carry you, you shall have it.” + +Then Phineas had to explain that he had come to bid them farewell, +and that it was not at all probable that he should ever be able to +see Willingford again in the hunting season. “I don’t suppose that I +shall make either of you quite understand it, but I have got to begin +again. The chances are that I shall never see another foxhound all my +life.” + +“Not in Ireland!” exclaimed Lord Chiltern. + +“Not unless I should have to examine one as a witness. I have nothing +before me but downright hard work; and a great deal of that must be +done before I can hope to earn a shilling.” + +“But you are so clever,” said Violet. “Of course it will come +quickly.” + +“I do not mean to be impatient about it, nor yet unhappy,” said +Phineas. “Only hunting won’t be much in my line.” + +“And will you leave London altogether?” Violet asked. + +“Altogether. I shall stick to one club,--Brooks’s; but I shall take +my name off all the others.” + +“What a deuce of a nuisance!” said Lord Chiltern. + +“I have no doubt you will be very happy,” said Violet; “and you’ll be +a Lord Chancellor in no time. But you won’t go quite yet.” + +“Next Sunday.” + +“You will return. You must be here for our wedding;--indeed you must. +I will not be married unless you do.” + +Even this, however, was impossible. He must go on Sunday, and must +return no more. Then he made his little farewell speech, which he +could not deliver without some awkward stuttering. He would think of +her on the day of her marriage, and pray that she might be happy. And +he would send her a little trifle before he went, which he hoped she +would wear in remembrance of their old friendship. + +“She shall wear it, whatever it is, or I’ll know the reason why,” +said Chiltern. + +“Hold your tongue, you rough bear!” said Violet. “Of course I’ll +wear it. And of course I’ll think of the giver. I shall have many +presents, but few that I will think of so much.” Then Phineas left +the room, with his throat so full that he could not speak another +word. + +“He is still broken-hearted about you,” said the favoured lover as +soon as his rival had left the room. + +“It is not that,” said Violet. “He is broken-hearted about +everything. The whole world is vanishing away from him. I wish he +could have made up his mind to marry that German woman with all the +money.” It must be understood, however, that Phineas had never spoken +a word to any one as to the offer which the German woman had made to +him. + +It was on the morning of the Sunday on which he was to leave London +that he saw Lady Laura. He had asked that it might be so, in order +that he might then have nothing more upon his mind. He found her +quite alone, and he could see by her eyes that she had been weeping. +As he looked at her, remembering that it was not yet six years since +he had first been allowed to enter that room, he could not but +perceive how very much she was altered in appearance. Then she had +been three-and-twenty, and had not looked to be a day older. Now she +might have been taken to be nearly forty, so much had her troubles +preyed upon her spirit, and eaten into the vitality of her youth. “So +you have come to say good-bye,” she said, smiling as she rose to meet +him. + +“Yes, Lady Laura;--to say good-bye. Not for ever, I hope, but +probably for long.” + +“No, not for ever. At any rate, we will not think so.” Then she +paused; but he was silent, sitting with his hat dangling in his two +hands, and his eyes fixed upon the floor. “Do you know, Mr. Finn,” +she continued, “that sometimes I am very angry with myself about +you.” + +“Then it must be because you have been too kind to me.” + +“It is because I fear that I have done much to injure you. From +the first day that I knew you,--do you remember, when we were +talking here, in this very room, about the beginning of the Reform +Bill;--from that day I wished that you should come among us and be +one of us.” + +“I have been with you, to my infinite satisfaction,--while it +lasted.” + +“But it has not lasted, and now I fear that it has done you harm.” + +“Who can say whether it has been for good or evil? But of this I am +sure you will be certain,--that I am very grateful to you for all the +goodness you have shown me.” Then again he was silent. + +She did not know what it was that she wanted, but she did desire some +expression from his lips that should be warmer than an expression of +gratitude. An expression of love,--of existing love,--she would have +felt to be an insult, and would have treated it as such. Indeed, she +knew that from him no such insult could come. But she was in that +morbid, melancholy state of mind which requires the excitement +of more than ordinary sympathy, even though that sympathy be all +painful; and I think that she would have been pleased had he referred +to the passion for herself which he had once expressed. If he would +have spoken of his love, and of her mistake, and have made some +half-suggestion as to what might have been their lives had things +gone differently,--though she would have rebuked him even for +that,--still it would have comforted her. But at this moment, though +he remembered much that had passed between them, he was not even +thinking of the Braes of Linter. All that had taken place four years +ago;--and there had been so many other things since which had moved +him even more than that! “You have heard what I have arranged for +myself?” she said at last. + +“Your father has told me that you are going to Dresden.” + +“Yes;--he will accompany me,--coming home of course for Parliament. +It is a sad break-up, is it not? But the lawyer says that if I remain +here I may be subject to very disagreeable attempts from Mr. Kennedy +to force me to go back again. It is odd, is it not, that he should +not understand how impossible it is?” + +“He means to do his duty.” + +“I believe so. But he becomes more stern every day to those who are +with him. And then, why should I remain here? What is there to tempt +me? As a woman separated from her husband I cannot take an interest +in those things which used to charm me. I feel that I am crushed and +quelled by my position, even though there is no disgrace in it.” + +“No disgrace, certainly,” said Phineas. + +“But I am nobody,--or worse than nobody.” + +“And I also am going to be a nobody,” said Phineas, laughing. + +“Ah; you are a man and will get over it, and you have many years +before you will begin to be growing old. I am growing old already. +Yes, I am. I feel it, and know it, and see it. A woman has a fine +game to play; but then she is so easily bowled out, and the term +allowed to her is so short.” + +“A man’s allowance of time may be short too,” said Phineas. + +“But he can try his hand again.” Then there was another pause. “I had +thought, Mr. Finn, that you would have married,” she said in her very +lowest voice. + +“You knew all my hopes and fears about that.” + +“I mean that you would have married Madame Goesler.” + +“What made you think that, Lady Laura?” + +“Because I saw that she liked you, and because such a marriage would +have been so suitable. She has all that you want. You know what they +say of her now?” + +“What do they say?” + +“That the Duke of Omnium offered to make her his wife, and that she +refused him for your sake.” + +“There is nothing that people won’t say;--nothing on earth,” said +Phineas. Then he got up and took his leave of her. He also wanted to +part from her with some special expression of affection, but he did +not know how to choose his words. He had wished that some allusion +should be made, not to the Braes of Linter, but to the close +confidence which had so long existed between them; but he found +that the language to do this properly was wanting to him. Had the +opportunity arisen he would have told her now the whole story of +Mary Flood Jones; but the opportunity did not come, and he left her, +never having mentioned the name of his Mary or having hinted at his +engagement to any one of his friends in London. “It is better so,” +he said to himself. “My life in Ireland is to be a new life, and why +should I mix two things together that will be so different?” + +He was to dine at his lodgings, and then leave them for good at +eight o’clock. He had packed up everything before he went to Portman +Square, and he returned home only just in time to sit down to his +solitary mutton chop. But as he sat down he saw a small note +addressed to himself lying on the table among the crowd of books, +letters, and papers, of which he had still to make disposal. It was +a very small note in an envelope of a peculiar tint of pink, and he +knew the handwriting well. The blood mounted all over his face as he +took it up, and he hesitated for a moment before he opened it. It +could not be that the offer should be repeated to him. Slowly, hardly +venturing at first to look at the enclosure, he opened it, and the +words which it contained were as follows:-- + + + I learn that you are going to-day, and I write a word + which you will receive just as you are departing. It is to + say merely this,--that when I left you the other day I was + angry, not with you, but with myself. Let me wish you all + good wishes and that prosperity which I know you will + deserve, and which I think you will win. + + Yours very truly, + + M. M. G. + + Sunday morning. + + +Should he put off his journey and go to her this very evening and +claim her as his friend? The question was asked and answered in a +moment. Of course he would not go to her. Were he to do so there +would be only one possible word for him to say, and that word should +certainly never be spoken. But he wrote to her a reply, shorter even +than her own short note. + + + Thanks, dear friend. I do not doubt but that you and I + understand each other thoroughly, and that each trusts the + other for good wishes and honest intentions. + + Always yours, + + P. F. + + I write these as I am starting. + + +When he had written this, he kept it till the last moment in his +hand, thinking that he would not send it. But as he slipped into the +cab, he gave the note to his late landlady to post. + +At the station Bunce came to him to say a word of farewell, and Mrs. +Bunce was on his arm. + +“Well done, Mr. Finn, well done,” said Bunce. “I always knew there +was a good drop in you.” + +“You always told me I should ruin myself in Parliament, and so I +have,” said Phineas. + +“Not at all. It takes a deal to ruin a man if he’s got the right +sperrit. I’ve better hopes of you now than ever I had in the old +days when you used to be looking out for Government place;--and Mr. +Monk has tried that too. I thought he would find the iron too heavy +for him.” “God bless you, Mr. Finn,” said Mrs. Bunce with her +handkerchief up to her eyes. “There’s not one of ’em I ever had as +lodgers I’ve cared about half as much as I did for you.” Then they +shook hands with him through the window, and the train was off. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVI + +Conclusion + + +We are told that it is a bitter moment with the Lord Mayor when he +leaves the Mansion House and becomes once more Alderman Jones, of No. +75, Bucklersbury. Lord Chancellors going out of office have a great +fall though they take pensions with them for their consolation. And +the President of the United States when he leaves the glory of the +White House and once more becomes a simple citizen must feel the +change severely. But our hero, Phineas Finn, as he turned his back +upon the scene of his many successes, and prepared himself for +permanent residence in his own country, was, I think, in a worse +plight than any of the reduced divinities to whom I have alluded. +They at any rate had known that their fall would come. He, like +Icarus, had flown up towards the sun, hoping that his wings of wax +would bear him steadily aloft among the gods. Seeing that his wings +were wings of wax, we must acknowledge that they were very good. But +the celestial lights had been too strong for them, and now, having +lived for five years with lords and countesses, with Ministers and +orators, with beautiful women and men of fashion, he must start again +in a little lodging in Dublin, and hope that the attorneys of that +litigious city might be good to him. On his journey home he made but +one resolution. He would make the change, or attempt to make it, +with manly strength. During his last month in London he had allowed +himself to be sad, depressed, and melancholy. There should be an end +of all that now. Nobody at home should see that he was depressed. +And Mary, his own Mary, should at any rate have no cause to think +that her love and his own engagement had ever been the cause to him +of depression. Did he not value her love more than anything in the +world? A thousand times he told himself that he did. + +She was there in the old house at Killaloe to greet him. Her +engagement was an affair known to all the county, and she had no +idea that it would become her to be coy in her love. She was in his +arms before he had spoken to his father and mother, and had made her +little speech to him,--very inaudibly indeed,--while he was covering +her sweet face with kisses. “Oh, Phineas, I am so proud of you; and +I think you are so right, and I am so glad you have done it.” Again +he covered her face with kisses. Could he ever have had such +satisfaction as this had he allowed Madame Goesler’s hand to remain +in his? + +On the first night of his arrival he sat for an hour downstairs +with his father talking over his plans. He felt,--he could not but +feel,--that he was not the hero now that he had been when he was last +at Killaloe,--when he had come thither with a Cabinet Minister under +his wing. And yet his father did his best to prevent the growth of +any such feeling. The old doctor was not quite as well off as he had +been when Phineas first started with his high hopes for London. Since +that day he had abandoned his profession and was now living on the +fruits of his life’s labour. For the last two years he had been +absolved from the necessity of providing an income for his son, and +had probably allowed himself to feel that no such demand upon him +would again be made. Now, however, it was necessary that he should do +so. Could his son manage to live on two hundred a-year? There would +then be four hundred a-year left for the wants of the family at home. +Phineas swore that he could fight his battle on a hundred and fifty, +and they ended the argument by splitting the difference. He had been +paying exactly the same sum of money for the rooms he had just left +in London; but then, while he held those rooms, his income had been +two thousand a-year. Tenant-right was a very fine thing, but could it +be worth such a fall as this? + +“And about dear Mary?” said the father. + +“I hope it may not be very long,” said Phineas. + +“I have not spoken to her about it, but your mother says that Mrs. +Flood Jones is very averse to a long engagement.” + +“What can I do? She would not wish me to marry her daughter with no +other income than an allowance made by you.” + +“Your mother says that she has some idea that you and she might live +together;--that if they let Floodborough you might take a small house +in Dublin. Remember, Phineas, I am not proposing it myself.” + +Then Phineas bethought himself that he was not even yet so low in the +world that he need submit himself to terms dictated to him by Mrs. +Flood Jones. “I am glad that you do not propose it, sir.” + +“Why so, Phineas?” + +“Because I should have been obliged to oppose the plan even if it had +come from you. Mothers-in-law are never a comfort in a house.” + +“I never tried it myself,” said the doctor. + +“And I never will try it. I am quite sure that Mary does not expect +any such thing, and that she is willing to wait. If I can shorten the +term of waiting by hard work, I will do so.” The decision to which +Phineas had come on this matter was probably made known to Mrs. Flood +Jones after some mild fashion by old Mrs. Finn. Nothing more was +said to Phineas about a joint household; but he was quite able to +perceive from the manner of the lady towards him that his proposed +mother-in-law wished him to understand that he was treating her +daughter very badly. What did it signify? None of them knew the story +of Madame Goesler, and of course none of them would know it. None of +them would ever hear how well he had behaved to his little Mary. + +But Mary did know it all before he left her to go up to Dublin. The +two lovers allowed themselves,--or were allowed by their elders, one +week of exquisite bliss together; and during this week, Phineas told +her, I think, everything. He told her everything as far as he could +do so without seeming to boast of his own successes. How is a man +not to tell such tales when he has on his arm, close to him, a girl +who tells him her little everything of life, and only asks for his +confidence in return? And then his secrets are so precious to her and +so sacred, that he feels as sure of her fidelity as though she were +a very goddess of faith and trust. And the temptation to tell is so +great. For all that he has to tell she loves him the better and still +the better. A man desires to win a virgin heart, and is happy to +know,--or at least to believe,--that he has won it. With a woman +every former rival is an added victim to the wheels of the triumphant +chariot in which she is sitting. “All these has he known and loved, +culling sweets from each of them. But now he has come to me, and I am +the sweetest of them all.” And so Mary was taught to believe of Laura +and of Violet and of Madame Goesler,--that though they had had charms +to please, her lover had never been so charmed as he was now while +she was hanging to his breast. And I think that she was right in her +belief. During those lovely summer evening walks along the shores of +Lough Derg, Phineas was as happy as he had ever been at any moment of +his life. + +“I shall never be impatient,--never,” she said to him on the last +evening. “All I want is that you should write to me.” + +“I shall want more than that, Mary.” + +“Then you must come down and see me. When you do come they will be +happy, happy days for me. But of course we cannot be married for the +next twenty years.” + +“Say forty, Mary.” + +“I will say anything that you like;--you will know what I mean just +as well. And, Phineas, I must tell you one thing,--though it makes me +sad to think of it, and will make me sad to speak of it.” + +“I will not have you sad on our last night, Mary.” + +“I must say it. I am beginning to understand how much you have given +up for me.” + +“I have given up nothing for you.” + +“If I had not been at Killaloe when Mr. Monk was here, and if we had +not,--had not,--oh dear, if I had not loved you so very much, you +might have remained in London, and that lady would have been your +wife.” + +“Never!” said Phineas stoutly. + +“Would she not? She must not be your wife now, Phineas. I am not +going to pretend that I will give you up.” + +“That is unkind, Mary.” + +“Oh, well; you may say what you please. If that is unkind, I am +unkind. It would kill me to lose you.” + +Had he done right? How could there be a doubt about it? How could +there be a question about it? Which of them had loved him, or was +capable of loving him as Mary loved him? What girl was ever so sweet, +so gracious, so angelic, as his own Mary? He swore to her that he was +prouder of winning her than of anything he had ever done in all his +life, and that of all the treasures that had ever come in his way she +was the most precious. She went to bed that night the happiest girl +in all Connaught, although when she parted from him she understood +that she was not to see him again till Christmas-Eve. + +But she did see him again before the summer was over, and the manner +of their meeting was in this wise. Immediately after the passing of +that scrambled Irish Reform Bill, Parliament, as the reader knows, +was dissolved. This was in the early days of June, and before the end +of July the new members were again assembled at Westminster. This +session, late in summer, was very terrible; but it was not very long, +and then it was essentially necessary. There was something of the +year’s business which must yet be done, and the country would require +to know who were to be the Ministers of the Government. It is not +needed that the reader should be troubled any further with the +strategy of one political leader or of another, or that more should +be said of Mr. Monk and his tenant-right. The House of Commons had +offended Mr. Gresham by voting in a majority against him, and Mr. +Gresham had punished the House of Commons by subjecting it to the +expense and nuisance of a new election. All this is constitutional, +and rational enough to Englishmen, though it may be unintelligible to +strangers. The upshot on the present occasion was that the Ministers +remained in their places and that Mr. Monk’s bill, though it had +received the substantial honour of a second reading, passed away for +the present into the limbo of abortive legislation. + +All this would not concern us at all, nor our poor hero much, were +it not that the great men with whom he had been for two years so +pleasant a colleague, remembered him with something of affectionate +regret. Whether it began with Mr. Gresham or with Lord Cantrip, I +will not say;--or whether Mr. Monk, though now a political enemy, +may have said a word that brought about the good deed. Be that as it +may, just before the summer session was brought to a close Phineas +received the following letter from Lord Cantrip:-- + + + Downing Street, August 4, 186--. + + MY DEAR MR. FINN,-- + + Mr. Gresham has been talking to me, and we both think + that possibly a permanent Government appointment may be + acceptable to you. We have no doubt, that should this be + the case, your services would be very valuable to the + country. There is a vacancy for a poor-law inspector at + present in Ireland, whose residence I believe should be + in Cork. The salary is a thousand a-year. Should the + appointment suit you, Mr. Gresham will be most happy to + nominate you to the office. Let me have a line at your + early convenience. + + Believe me, + + Most sincerely yours, + + CANTRIP. + + +He received the letter one morning in Dublin, and within three hours +he was on his route to Killaloe. Of course he would accept the +appointment, but he would not even do that without telling Mary of +his new prospect. Of course he would accept the appointment. Though +he had been as yet barely two months in Dublin, though he had hardly +been long enough settled to his work to have hoped to be able to see +in which way there might be a vista open leading to success, still he +had fancied that he had seen that success was impossible. He did not +know how to begin,--and men were afraid of him, thinking that he was +unsteady, arrogant, and prone to failure. He had not seen his way to +the possibility of a guinea. + +“A thousand a-year!” said Mary Flood Jones, opening her eyes wide +with wonder at the golden future before them. + +“It is nothing very great for a perpetuity,” said Phineas. + +“Oh, Phineas; surely a thousand a-year will be very nice.” + +“It will be certain,” said Phineas, “and then we can be married +to-morrow.” + +“But I have been making up my mind to wait ever so long,” said Mary. + +“Then your mind must be unmade,” said Phineas. + +What was the nature of the reply to Lord Cantrip the reader may +imagine, and thus we will leave our hero an Inspector of Poor Houses +in the County of Cork. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 18000 *** |