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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: The Duke's Children</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: January, 2003 [eBook #3622]<br /> +HTML version most recently updated: June 13, 2010</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUKE'S CHILDREN***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Kenneth David Cooper<br /> + and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE DUKE'S CHILDREN</h1> + +<p> </p> +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>First published in serial form in <i>All the Year Round</i><br /> +in 1879 and 1880 and in book form in 1880</h4> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td><a href="#c1" >When the Duchess Was Dead</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td><a href="#c2" >Lady Mary Palliser</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td><a href="#c3" >Francis Oliphant Tregear</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td><a href="#c4" >Park Lane</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td><a href="#c5" >"It Is Impossible"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td><a href="#c6" >Major Tifto</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td><a href="#c7" >Conservative Convictions</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#c8" >"He Is a Gentleman"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td><a href="#c9" >"In Medias Res"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td><a href="#c10" >"Why Not Like Romeo If I Feel Like Romeo?"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td><a href="#c11" >"Cruel"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td><a href="#c12" >At Richmond</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#c13" >The Duke's Injustice</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#c14" >The New Member for Silverbridge</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td><a href="#c15" >The Duke Receives a Letter,—and Writes One</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#c16" >"Poor Boy"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#c17" >The Derby</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c18" >One of the Results of the Derby</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#c19" >"No; My Lord, I Do Not"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td><a href="#c20" >"Then He Will Come Again"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td> <td><a href="#c21" >Sir Timothy Beeswax</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td> <td><a href="#c22" >The Duke in His Study</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c23" >Frank Tregear Wants a Friend</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c24" >"She Must Be Made to Obey"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXV. </td> <td><a href="#c25" >A Family Breakfast-Table</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c26" >Dinner at the Beargarden</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c27" >Major Tifto and the Duke</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c28" >Mrs. Montacute Jones's Garden-Party</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c29" >The Lovers Meet</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXX. </td> <td><a href="#c30" >What Came of the Meeting</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXI. </td> <td><a href="#c31" >Miss Boncassen's River-Party. No. 1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXII. </td> <td><a href="#c32" >Miss Boncassen's River-Party. No. 2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c33" >The Langham Hotel</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c34" >Lord Popplecourt</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXV. </td> <td><a href="#c35" >"Don't You Think—?"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c36" >Tally-Ho Lodge</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c37" >Grex</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c38" >Crummie-Toddie</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c39" >Killancodlem</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XL. </td> <td><a href="#c40" >"And Then!"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLI. </td> <td><a href="#c41" >Ischl</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLII. </td> <td><a href="#c42" >Again at Killancodlem</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIII. </td> <td><a href="#c43" >What Happened at Doncaster</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIV. </td> <td><a href="#c44" >How It Was Done</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLV. </td> <td><a href="#c45" >"There Shall Not Be Another Word About It"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVI. </td> <td><a href="#c46" >Lady Mary's Dream</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVII. </td> <td><a href="#c47" >Miss Boncassen's Idea of Heaven</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c48" >The Party at Custins Is Broken Up</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIX. </td> <td><a href="#c49" >The Major's Fate</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">L. </td> <td><a href="#c50" >The Duke's Arguments</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LI. </td> <td><a href="#c51" >The Duke's Guests</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LII. </td> <td><a href="#c52" >Miss Boncassen Tells the Truth</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIII. </td> <td><a href="#c53" >"Then I Am As Proud As a Queen"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIV. </td> <td><a href="#c54" >"I Don't Think She Is a Snake"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LV. </td> <td><a href="#c55" >Polpenno</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVI. </td> <td><a href="#c56" >The News Is Sent to Matching</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVII. </td> <td><a href="#c57" >The Meeting at "The Bobtailed Fox"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c58" >The Major Is Deposed</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIX. </td> <td><a href="#c59" >No One Can Tell What May Come to Pass</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LX. </td> <td><a href="#c60" >Lord Gerald in Further Trouble</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXI. </td> <td><a href="#c61" >"Bone of My Bone"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXII. </td> <td><a href="#c62" >The Brake Country</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c63" >"I've Seen 'Em Like That Before"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c64" >"I Believe Him to Be a Worthy Young Man"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXV. </td> <td><a href="#c65" >"Do You Ever Think What Money Is?"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c66" >The Three Attacks</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c67" >"He Is Such a Beast"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c68" >Brook Street</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c69" >"Pert Poppet!"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXX. </td> <td><a href="#c70" >"Love May Be a Great Misfortune"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXI. </td> <td><a href="#c71" >"What Am I to Say, Sir?"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXII. </td> <td><a href="#c72" >Carlton Terrace</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c73" >"I Have Never Loved You"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c74" >"Let Us Drink a Glass of Wine Together"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXV. </td> <td><a href="#c75" >The Major's Story</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c76" >On Deportment</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c77" >"Mabel, Good-Bye"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c78" >The Duke Returns to Office</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c79" >The First Wedding</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXX. </td> <td><a href="#c80" >The Second Wedding</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + +<p><a name="c1" id="c1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<h3>When the Duchess Was Dead<br /> </h3> + + +<p>No one, probably, ever felt himself to be more alone in the world +than our old friend, the Duke of Omnium, when the Duchess died. When +this sad event happened he had ceased to be Prime Minister. During +the first nine months after he had left office he and the Duchess +remained in England. Then they had gone abroad, taking with them +their three children. The eldest, Lord Silverbridge, had been at +Oxford, but had had his career there cut short by some more than +ordinary youthful folly, which had induced his father to agree with +the college authorities that his name had better be taken off the +college books,—all which had been cause of very great sorrow to the +Duke. The other boy was to go to Cambridge; but his father had +thought it well to give him a twelvemonth's run on the Continent, +under his own inspection. Lady Mary, the only daughter, was the +youngest of the family, and she also had been with them on the +Continent. They remained the full year abroad, travelling with a +large accompaniment of tutors, lady's-maids, couriers, and sometimes +friends. I do not know that the Duchess or the Duke had enjoyed it +much; but the young people had seen something of foreign courts and +much of foreign scenery, and had perhaps perfected their French. The +Duke had gone to work at his travels with a full determination to +create for himself occupation out of a new kind of life. He had +studied Dante, and had striven to arouse himself to ecstatic joy +amidst the loveliness of the Italian lakes. But through it all he had +been aware that he had failed. The Duchess had made no such +resolution,—had hardly, perhaps, made any attempt; but, in truth, +they had both sighed to be back among the war-trumpets. They had both +suffered much among the trumpets, and yet they longed to return. He +told himself from day to day, that though he had been banished from +the House of Commons, still, as a peer, he had a seat in Parliament, +and that, though he was no longer a minister, still he might be +useful as a legislator. She, in her career as a leader of fashion, +had no doubt met with some trouble,—with some trouble but with no +disgrace; and as she had been carried about among the lakes and +mountains, among the pictures and statues, among the counts and +countesses, she had often felt that there was no happiness except in +that dominion which circumstances had enabled her to achieve once, +and might enable her to achieve again—in the realms of London +society.</p> + +<p>Then, in the early spring of 187—, they came back to England, having +persistently carried out their project, at any rate in regard to +time. Lord Gerald, the younger son, was at once sent up to Trinity. +For the eldest son a seat was to be found in the House of Commons, +and the fact that a dissolution of Parliament was expected served to +prevent any prolonged sojourn abroad. Lady Mary Palliser was at that +time nineteen, and her entrance into the world was to be her mother's +great care and great delight. In March they spent a few days in +London, and then went down to Matching Priory. When she left town the +Duchess was complaining of cold, sore throat, and debility. A week +after their arrival at Matching she was dead.</p> + +<p>Had the heavens fallen and mixed themselves with the earth, had the +people of London risen in rebellion with French ideas of equality, +had the Queen persistently declined to comply with the constitutional +advice of her ministers, had a majority in the House of Commons lost +its influence in the country,—the utter prostration of the bereft +husband could not have been more complete. It was not only that his +heart was torn to pieces, but that he did not know how to look out +into the world. It was as though a man should be suddenly called upon +to live without hands or even arms. He was helpless, and knew himself +to be helpless. Hitherto he had never specially acknowledged to +himself that his wife was necessary to him as a component part of his +life. Though he had loved her dearly, and had in all things consulted +her welfare and happiness, he had at times been inclined to think +that in the exuberance of her spirits she had been a trouble rather +than a support to him. But now it was as though all outside +appliances were taken away from him. There was no one of whom he +could ask a question.</p> + +<p>For it may be said of this man that, though throughout his life he +had had many Honourable and Right Honourable friends, and that though +he had entertained guests by the score, and though he had achieved +for himself the respect of all good men and the thorough admiration +of some few who knew him, he had hardly made for himself a single +intimate friend—except that one who had now passed away from him. To +her he had been able to say what he thought, even though she would +occasionally ridicule him while he was declaring his feelings. But +there had been no other human soul to whom he could open himself. +There were one or two whom he loved, and perhaps liked; but his +loving and his liking had been exclusively political. He had so +habituated himself to devote his mind and his heart to the service of +his country, that he had almost risen above or sunk below humanity. +But she, who had been essentially human, had been a link between him +and the world.</p> + +<p>There were his three children, the youngest of whom was now nearly +nineteen, and they surely were links! At the first moment of his +bereavement they were felt to be hardly more than burdens. A more +loving father there was not in England, but nature had made him so +undemonstrative that as yet they had hardly known his love. In all +their joys and in all their troubles, in all their desires and all +their disappointments, they had ever gone to their mother. She had +been conversant with everything about them, from the boys' bills and +the girl's gloves to the innermost turn in the heart and the +disposition of each. She had known with the utmost accuracy the +nature of the scrapes into which Lord Silverbridge had precipitated +himself, and had known also how probable it was that Lord Gerald +would do the same. The results of such scrapes she, of course, +deplored; and therefore she would give good counsel, pointing out how +imperative it was that such evil-doings should be avoided; but with +the spirit that produced the scrapes she fully sympathised. The +father disliked the spirit almost worse than the results; and was +therefore often irritated and unhappy.</p> + +<p>And the difficulties about the girl were almost worse to bear than +those about the boys. She had done nothing wrong. She had given no +signs of extravagance or other juvenile misconduct. But she was +beautiful and young. How was he to bring her out into the world? How +was he to decide whom she should or whom she should not marry? How +was he to guide her through the shoals and rocks which lay in the +path of such a girl before she can achieve matrimony?</p> + +<p>It was the fate of the family that, with a world of acquaintance, +they had not many friends. From all close connection with relatives +on the side of the Duchess they had been dissevered by old feelings +at first, and afterwards by want of any similitude in the habits of +life. She had, when young, been repressed by male and female +guardians with an iron hand. Such repression had been needed, and had +been perhaps salutary, but it had not left behind it much affection. +And then her nearest relatives were not sympathetic with the Duke. He +could obtain no assistance in the care of his girl from that source. +Nor could he even do it from his own cousins' wives, who were his +nearest connections on the side of the Pallisers. They were women to +whom he had ever been kind, but to whom he had never opened his +heart. When, in the midst of the stunning sorrow of the first week, +he tried to think of all this, it seemed to him that there was +nobody.</p> + +<p>There had been one lady, a very dear ally, staying in the house with +them when the Duchess died. This was Mrs. Finn, the wife of Phineas +Finn, who had been one of the Duke's colleagues when in office. How +it had come to pass that Mrs. Finn and the Duchess had become +singularly bound together has been told elsewhere. But there had been +close bonds,—so close that when the Duchess on their return from the +Continent had passed through London on her way to Matching, ill at +the time and very comfortless, it had been almost a thing of course, +that Mrs. Finn should go with her. And as she had sunk, and then +despaired, and then died, it was this woman who had always been at +her side, who had ministered to her, and had listened to the fears +and the wishes and hopes she had expressed respecting the children.</p> + +<p>At Matching, amidst the ruins of the old Priory, there is a parish +burying-ground, and there, in accordance with her own wish, almost +within sight of her own bedroom-window, she was buried. On the day of +the funeral a dozen relatives came, Pallisers and M'Closkies, who on +such an occasion were bound to show themselves, as members of the +family. With them and his two sons the Duke walked across to the +graveyard, and then walked back; but even to those who stayed the +night at the house he hardly spoke. By noon on the following day they +had all left him, and the only stranger in the house was Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the day after the funeral the Duke and his guest +met, almost for the first time since the sad event. There had been +just a pressure of the hand, just a glance of compassion, just some +murmur of deep sorrow,—but there had been no real speech between +them. Now he had sent for her, and she went down to him in the room +in which he commonly sat at work. He was seated at his table when she +entered, but there was no book open before him, and no pen ready to +his hand. He was dressed of course in black. That, indeed, was usual +with him, but now the tailor by his funereal art had added some +deeper dye of blackness to his appearance. When he rose and turned to +her she thought that he had at once become an old man. His hair was +grey in parts, and he had never accustomed himself to use that skill +in managing his outside person by which many men are able to preserve +for themselves a look, if not of youth, at any rate of freshness. He +was thin, of an adust complexion, and had acquired a habit of +stooping which, when he was not excited, gave him an appearance of +age. All that was common to him; but now it was so much exaggerated +that he who was not yet fifty might have been taken to be over sixty.</p> + +<p>He put out his hand to greet her as she came up to him. +"Silverbridge," he said, "tells me that you go back to London +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I thought it would be best, Duke. My presence here can be of no +comfort to you."</p> + +<p>"I will not say that anything can be of comfort. But of course it is +right that you should go. I can have no excuse for asking you to +remain. While there was yet a hope for her—" Then he stopped, unable +to say a word further in that direction, and yet there was no sign of +a tear and no sound of a sob.</p> + +<p>"Of course I would stay, Duke, if I could be of any service."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Finn will expect you to return to him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would be better that I should say that I would stay were +it not that I know that I can be of no real service."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Mrs. Finn?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Mary should have with her at such a time some other friend."</p> + +<p>"There was none other whom her mother loved as she loved you—none, +none." This he said almost with energy.</p> + +<p>"There was no one lately, Duke, with whom circumstances caused her +mother to be so closely intimate. But even that perhaps was +unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"I never thought so."</p> + +<p>"That is a great compliment. But as to Lady Mary, will it not be as +well that she should have with her, as soon as possible, +someone,—perhaps someone of her own kindred if it be possible, or, +if not that, at least one of her own kind?"</p> + +<p>"Who is there? Whom do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean no one. It is hard, Duke, to say what I do mean, but perhaps +I had better try. There will be,—probably there have been,—some +among your friends who have regretted the great intimacy which chance +produced between me and my lost friend. While she was with us no such +feeling would have sufficed to drive me from her. She had chosen for +herself, and if others disapproved her choice that was nothing to me. +But as regards Lady Mary, it will be better, I think, that from the +beginning she should be taught to look for friendship and guidance to +those—to those who are more naturally connected with her."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of any guidance," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But with one so young, where there is intimacy there +will be guidance. There should be somebody with her. It was almost +the last thought that occupied her mother's mind. I could not tell +her, Duke, but I can tell you, that I cannot with advantage to your +girl be that somebody."</p> + +<p>"Cora wished it."</p> + +<p>"Her wishes, probably, were sudden and hardly fixed."</p> + +<p>"Who should it be, then?" asked the father, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Who am I, Duke, that I should answer such a question?"</p> + +<p>After that there was another pause, and then the conference was ended +by a request from the Duke that Mrs. Finn would stay at Matching for +yet two days longer. At dinner they all met,—the father, the three +children, and Mrs. Finn. How far the young people among themselves +had been able to throw off something of the gloom of death need not +here be asked; but in the presence of their father they were sad and +sombre, almost as he was. On the next day, early in the morning, the +younger lad returned to his college, and Lord Silverbridge went up to +London, where he was supposed to have his home.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would not mind reading these letters," the Duke said to +Mrs. Finn, when she again went to him, in compliance with a message +from him asking for her presence. Then she sat down and read two +letters, one from Lady Cantrip, and the other from a Mrs. Jeffrey +Palliser, each of which contained an invitation for his daughter, and +expressed a hope that Lady Mary would not be unwilling to spend some +time with the writer. Lady Cantrip's letter was long, and went +minutely into circumstances. If Lady Mary would come to her, she +would abstain from having other company in the house till her young +friend's spirits should have somewhat recovered themselves. Nothing +could be more kind, or proposed in a sweeter fashion. There had, +however, been present to the Duke's mind as he read it a feeling that +a proposition to a bereaved husband to relieve him of the society of +an only daughter, was not one which would usually be made to a +father. In such a position a child's company would probably be his +best solace. But he knew,—at this moment he painfully +remembered,—that he was not as are other men. He acknowledged the +truth of this, but he was not the less grieved and irritated by the +reminder. The letter from Mrs. Jeffrey Palliser was to the same +effect, but was much shorter. If it would suit Mary to come to them +for a month or six weeks at their place in Gloucestershire, they +would both be delighted.</p> + +<p>"I should not choose her to go there," said the Duke, as Mrs. Finn +refolded the latter letter. "My cousin's wife is a very good woman, +but Mary would not be happy with her."</p> + +<p>"Lady Cantrip is an excellent friend for her."</p> + +<p>"Excellent. I know no one whom I esteem more than Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"Would you wish her to go there, Duke?"</p> + +<p>There came a wistful piteous look over the father's face. Why should +he be treated as no other father would be treated? Why should it be +supposed that he would desire to send his girl away from him? But yet +he felt that it would be better that she should go. It was his +present purpose to remain at Matching through a portion of the +summer. What could he do to make a girl happy? What comfort would +there be in his companionship?</p> + +<p>"I suppose she ought to go somewhere," he said.</p> + +<p>"I had not thought of it," said Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"I understood you to say," replied the Duke, almost angrily, "that +she ought to go to someone who would take care of her."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of some friend coming to her."</p> + +<p>"Who would come? Who is there that I could possibly ask? You will not +stay."</p> + +<p>"I certainly would stay, if it were for her good. I was thinking, +Duke, that perhaps you might ask the Greys to come to you."</p> + +<p>"They would not come," he said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"When she was told that it was for her sake, she would come, I +think."</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause. "I could not ask them," he said; "for +his sake I could not have it put to her in that way. Perhaps Mary had +better go to Lady Cantrip. Perhaps I had better be alone here for a +time. I do not think that I am fit to have any human being here with +me in my sorrow."</p> + + +<p><a name="c2" id="c2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +<h3>Lady Mary Palliser<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It may as well be said at once that Mrs. Finn knew something of Lady +Mary which was not known to the father, and which she was not yet +prepared to make known to him. The last winter abroad had been passed +at Rome, and there Lady Mary Palliser had become acquainted with a +certain Mr. Tregear,—Francis Oliphant Tregear. The Duchess, who had +been in constant correspondence with her friend, had asked questions +by letter as to Mr. Tregear, of whom she had only known that he was +the younger son of a Cornish gentleman, who had become Lord +Silverbridge's friend at Oxford. In this there had certainly been but +little to recommend him to the intimacy of such a girl as Lady Mary +Palliser. Nor had the Duchess, when writing, ever spoken of him as a +probable suitor for her daughter's hand. She had never connected the +two names together. But Mrs. Finn had been clever enough to perceive +that the Duchess had become fond of Mr. Tregear, and would willingly +have heard something to his advantage. And she did hear something to +his advantage,—something also to his disadvantage. At his mother's +death this young man would inherit a property amounting to about +fifteen hundred a year. "And I am told," said Mrs. Finn, "that he is +quite likely to spend his money before it comes to him." There had +been nothing more written specially about Mr. Tregear; but Mrs. Finn +had feared not only that the young man loved the girl, but that the +young man's love had in some imprudent way been fostered by the +mother.</p> + +<p>Then there had been some fitful confidence during those few days of +acute illness. Why should not the girl have the man if he were +lovable? And the Duchess referred to her own early days when she had +loved, and to the great ruin which had come upon her heart when she +had been severed from the man she had loved. "Not but that it has +been all for the best," she had said. "Not but that Plantagenet has +been to me all that a husband should be. Only if she can be spared +what I suffered, let her be spared." Even when these things had been +said to her, Mrs. Finn had found herself unable to ask questions. She +could not bring herself to inquire whether the girl had in truth +given her heart to this young Tregear. The one was nineteen and the +other as yet but two-and-twenty! But though she asked no questions +she almost knew that it must be so. And she knew also that the +father, as yet, was quite in the dark on the matter. How was it +possible that in such circumstances she should assume the part of the +girl's confidential friend and monitress? Were she to do so she must +immediately tell the father everything. In such a position no one +could be a better friend than Lady Cantrip, and Mrs. Finn had already +almost made up her mind that, should Lady Cantrip occupy the place, +she would tell her ladyship all that had passed between herself and +the Duchess on the subject.</p> + +<p>Of what hopes she might have, or what fears, about her girl, the +Duchess had said no word to her husband. But when she had believed +that the things of the world were fading away from her, and when he +was sitting by her bedside,—dumb, because at such a moment he knew +not how to express the tenderness of his heart,—holding her hand, +and trying so to listen to her words, that he might collect and +remember every wish, she had murmured something about the ultimate +division of the great wealth with which she herself had been endowed. +"She had never," she said, "even tried to remember what arrangements +had been made by lawyers, but she hoped that Mary might be so +circumstanced, that if her happiness depended on marrying a poor man, +want of money need not prevent it." The Duke suspecting nothing, +believing this to be a not unnatural expression of maternal interest, +had assured her that Mary's fortune would be ample.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Finn made the proposition to Lady Mary in respect to Lady +Cantrip's invitation. Lady Mary was very like her mother, especially +in having exactly her mother's tone of voice, her quick manner of +speech, and her sharp intelligence. She had also her mother's eyes, +large and round, and almost blue, full of life and full of courage, +eyes which never seemed to quail, and her mother's dark brown hair, +never long but very copious in its thickness. She was, however, +taller than her mother, and very much more graceful in her movement. +And she could already assume a personal dignity of manner which had +never been within her mother's reach. She had become aware of a +certain brusqueness of speech in her mother, a certain aptitude to +say sharp things without thinking whether the sharpness was becoming +to the position which she held, and, taking advantage of the example, +the girl had already learned that she might gain more than she would +lose by controlling her words.</p> + +<p>"Papa wants me to go to Lady Cantrip," she said.</p> + +<p>"I think he would like it,—just for the present, Lady Mary."</p> + +<p>Though there had been the closest possible intimacy between the +Duchess and Mrs. Finn, this had hardly been so as to the intercourse +between Mrs. Finn and the children. Of Mrs. Finn it must be +acknowledged that she was, perhaps fastidiously, afraid of appearing +to take advantage of her friendship with the Duke's family. She would +tell herself that though circumstances had compelled her to be the +closest and nearest friend of a Duchess, still her natural place was +not among dukes and their children, and therefore in her intercourse +with the girl she did not at first assume the manner and bearing +which her position in the house would have seemed to warrant. Hence +the "Lady Mary."</p> + +<p>"Why does he want to send me away, Mrs. Finn?"</p> + +<p>"It is not that he wants to send you away, but that he thinks it will +be better for you to be with some friend. Here you must be so much +alone."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you stay? But I suppose Mr. Finn wants you to be back in +London."</p> + +<p>"It is not that only, or, to speak the truth, not that at all. Mr. +Finn could come here if it were suitable. Or for a week or two he +might do very well without me. But there are other reasons. There is +no one whom your mother respected more highly than Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"I never heard her speak a word of Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"Both he and she are your father's intimate friends."</p> + +<p>"Does papa want to be—alone here?"</p> + +<p>"It is you, not himself, of whom he is thinking."</p> + +<p>"Therefore I must think of him, Mrs. Finn. I do not wish him to be +alone. I am sure it would be better that I should stay with him."</p> + +<p>"He feels that it would not be well that you should live without the +companionship of some lady."</p> + +<p>"Then let him find some lady. You would be the best, because he knows +you so well. I, however, am not afraid of being alone. I am sure he +ought not to be here quite by himself. If he bids me go, I must go, +and then of course I shall go where he sends me; but I won't say that +I think it best that I should go, and certainly I do not want to go +to Lady Cantrip." This she said with great decision, as though the +matter was one on which she had altogether made up her mind. Then she +added, in a lower voice: "Why doesn't papa speak to me about it?"</p> + +<p>"He is thinking only of what may be best for you."</p> + +<p>"It would be best for me to stay near him. Whom else has he got?"</p> + +<p>All this Mrs. Finn repeated to the Duke as closely as she could, and +then of course the father was obliged to speak to his daughter.</p> + +<p>"Don't send me away, papa," she said at once.</p> + +<p>"Your life here, Mary, will be inexpressibly sad."</p> + +<p>"It must be sad anywhere. I cannot go to college, like Gerald, or +live anywhere just as I please, like Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Do you envy them that?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, papa. Only I shall think more of poor mamma by being +alone, and I should like to be thinking of her always." He shook his +head mournfully. "I do not mean that I shall always be unhappy, as I +am now."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; you are too young for that. It is only the old who +suffer in that way."</p> + +<p>"You will suffer less if I am with you; won't you, papa? I do not +want to go to Lady Cantrip. I hardly remember her at all."</p> + +<p>"She is very good."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. That is what they used to say to mamma about Lady +Midlothian. Papa, pray do not send me to Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>Of course it was decided that she should not go to Lady Cantrip at +once, or to Mrs. Jeffrey Palliser, and, after a short interval of +doubt, it was decided also that Mrs. Finn should remain at Matching +for at least a fortnight. The Duke declared that he would be glad to +see Mr. Finn, but she knew that in his present mood the society of +any one man to whom he would feel himself called upon to devote his +time, would be a burden to him, and she plainly said that Mr. Finn +had better not come to Matching at present. "There are old +associations," she said, "which will enable you to bear with me as +you will with your butler or your groom, but you are not as yet quite +able to make yourself happy with company." This he bore with perfect +equanimity, and then, as it were, handed over his daughter to Mrs. +Finn's care.</p> + +<p>Very quickly there came to be close intimacy between Mrs. Finn and +Lady Mary. For a day or two the elder woman, though the place she +filled was one of absolute confidence, rather resisted than +encouraged the intimacy. She always remembered that the girl was the +daughter of a great duke, and that her position in the house had +sprung from circumstances which would not, perhaps, in the eyes of +the world at large, have recommended her for such friendship. She +knew—the reader may possibly know—that nothing had ever been purer, +nothing more disinterested than her friendship. But she knew +also,—no one knew better,—that the judgment of men and women does +not always run parallel with facts. She entertained, too, a +conviction in regard to herself, that hard words and hard judgments +were to be expected from the world,—were to be accepted by her +without any strong feeling of injustice,—because she had been +elevated by chance to the possession of more good things than she had +merited. She weighed all this with a very fine balance, and even +after the encouragement she had received from the Duke, was intent on +confining herself to some position about the girl inferior to that +which such a friend as Lady Cantrip might have occupied. But the +girl's manner, and the girl's speech about her own mother, overcame +her. It was the unintentional revelation of the Duchess's constant +reference to her,—the way in which Lady Mary would assert that +"Mamma used always to say this of you; mamma always knew that you +would think so and so; mamma used to say that you had told her." It +was the feeling thus conveyed, that the mother who was now dead had +in her daily dealings with her own child spoken of her as her nearest +friend, which mainly served to conquer the deference of manner which +she had assumed.</p> + +<p>Then gradually there came confidences,—and at last absolute +confidence. The whole story about Mr. Tregear was told. Yes; she +loved Mr. Tregear. She had given him her heart, and had told him so.</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, your father ought to know it," said Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"No; not yet. Mamma knew it."</p> + +<p>"Did she know all that you have told me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; all. And Mr. Tregear spoke to her, and she said that papa ought +not to be told quite yet."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Finn could not but remember that the friend she had lost was +not, among women, the one best able to give a girl good counsel in +such a crisis.</p> + +<p>"Why not yet, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Well, because—. It is very hard to explain. In the first place, +because Mr. Tregear himself does not wish it."</p> + +<p>"That is a very bad reason; the worst in the world."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will say so. Of course everybody would say so. But +when there is one person whom one loves better than all the rest, for +whom one would be ready to die, to whom one is determined that +everything shall be devoted, surely the wishes of a person so dear as +that ought to have weight."</p> + +<p>"Not in persuading you to do that which is acknowledged to be wrong."</p> + +<p>"What wrong? I am going to do nothing wrong."</p> + +<p>"The very concealment of your love is wrong, after that love has been +not only given but declared. A girl's position in such matters is so +delicate, especially that of such a girl as you!"</p> + +<p>"I know all about that," said Lady Mary, with something almost +approaching to scorn in her tone. "Of course I have to be—delicate. +I don't quite know what the word means. I am not a bit ashamed of +being in love with Mr. Tregear. He is a gentleman, highly educated, +very clever, of an old family,—older, I believe, than papa's. And he +is manly and handsome; just what a young man ought to be. Only he is +not rich."</p> + +<p>"If he be all that you say, ought you not to trust your papa? If he +approve of it, he could give you money."</p> + +<p>"Of course he must be told; but not now. He is nearly broken-hearted +about dear mamma. He could not bring himself to care about anything +of that kind at present. And then it is Mr. Tregear that should speak +to him first."</p> + +<p>"Not now, Mary."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean not now?"</p> + +<p>"If you had a mother you would talk to her about it."</p> + +<p>"Mamma knew."</p> + +<p>"If she were still living she would tell your father."</p> + +<p>"But she didn't tell him though she did know. She didn't mean to tell +him quite yet. She wanted to see Mr. Tregear here in England first. +Of course I shall do nothing till papa does know."</p> + +<p>"You will not see him?"</p> + +<p>"How can I see him here? He will not come here, if you mean that."</p> + +<p>"You do not correspond with him?" Here for the first time the girl +blushed. "Oh, Mary, if you are writing to him your father ought to +know it."</p> + +<p>"I have not written to him; but when he heard how ill poor mamma was, +then he wrote to me—twice. You may see his letters. It is all about +her. No one worshipped mamma as he did."</p> + +<p>Gradually the whole story was told. These two young persons +considered themselves to be engaged, but had agreed that their +engagement should not be made known to the Duke till something had +occurred, or some time had arrived, as to which Mr. Tregear was to be +the judge. In Mrs. Finn's opinion nothing could be more unwise, and +she said much to induce the girl to confess everything to her father +at once. But in all her arguments she was opposed by the girl's +reference to her mother. "Mamma knew it." And it did certainly seem +to Mrs. Finn as though the mother had assented to this imprudent +concealment. When she endeavoured, in her own mind, to make excuse +for her friend, she felt almost sure that the Duchess, with all her +courage, had been afraid to propose to her husband that their +daughter should marry a commoner without an income. But in thinking +of all that, there could now be nothing gained. What ought she to +do—at once? The girl, in telling her, had exacted no promise of +secrecy, nor would she have given any such promise; but yet she did +not like the idea of telling the tale behind the girl's back. It was +evident that Lady Mary had considered herself to be safe in confiding +her story to her mother's old friend. Lady Mary no doubt had had her +confidences with her mother,—confidences from which it had been +intended by both that the father should be excluded; and now she +seemed naturally to expect that this new ally should look at this +great question as her mother had looked at it. The father had been +regarded as a great outside power, which could hardly be overcome, +but which might be evaded, or made inoperative by stratagem. It was +not that the daughter did not love him. She loved him and venerated +him highly,—the veneration perhaps being stronger than the love. The +Duchess, too, had loved him dearly,—more dearly in late years than +in her early life. But her husband to her had always been an outside +power which had in many cases to be evaded. Lady Mary, though she did +not express all this, evidently thought that in this new friend she +had found a woman whose wishes and aspirations for her would be those +which her mother had entertained.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Finn was much troubled in her mind, thinking that it was her +duty to tell the story to the Duke. It was not only the daughter who +had trusted her, but the father also; and the father's confidence had +been not only the first but by far the holier of the two. And the +question was one so important to the girl's future happiness! There +could be no doubt that the peril of her present position was very +great.</p> + +<p>"Mary," she said one morning, when the fortnight was nearly at an +end, "your father ought to know all this. I should feel that I had +betrayed him were I to go away leaving him in ignorance."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean to say that you will tell?" said the girl, horrified +at the idea of such treachery.</p> + +<p>"I wish that I could induce you to do so. Every day that he is kept +in the dark is an injury to you."</p> + +<p>"I am doing nothing. What harm can come? It is not as though I were +seeing him every day."</p> + +<p>"This harm will come; your father of course will know that you became +engaged to Mr. Tregear in Italy, and that a fact so important to him +has been kept back from him."</p> + +<p>"If there is anything in that, the evil has been done already. Of +course poor mamma did mean to tell him."</p> + +<p>"She cannot tell him now, and therefore you ought to do what she +would have done."</p> + +<p>"I cannot break my promise to him." "Him" always meant Mr. Tregear. +"I have told him that I would not do so till I had his consent, and I +will not."</p> + +<p>This was very dreadful to Mrs. Finn, and yet she was most unwilling +to take upon herself the part of a stern elder, and declare that +under the circumstances she must tell the tale. The story had been +told to her under the supposition that she was not a stern elder, +that she was regarded as the special friend of the dear mother who +was gone, that she might be trusted to assist against the terrible +weight of parental authority. She could not endure to be regarded at +once as a traitor by this young friend who had sweetly inherited the +affection with which the Duchess had regarded her. And yet if she +were to be silent how could she forgive herself? "The Duke certainly +ought to know at once," said she, repeating her words merely that she +might gain some time for thinking, and pluck up courage to declare +her purpose, should she resolve on betraying the secret.</p> + +<p>"If you tell him now, I will never forgive you," said Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"I am bound in honour to see that your father knows a thing which is +of such vital importance to him and to you. Having heard all this I +have no right to keep it from him. If Mr. Tregear really loves +you"—Lady Mary smiled at the doubt implied by this suggestion—"he +ought to feel that for your sake there should be no secret from your +father." Then she paused a moment to think. "Will you let me see Mr. +Tregear myself, and talk to him about it?"</p> + +<p>To this Lady Mary at first demurred, but when she found that in no +other way could she prevent Mrs. Finn from going at once to the Duke +and telling him everything, she consented. Under Mrs. Finn's +directions she wrote a note to her lover, which Mrs. Finn saw, and +then undertook to send it, with a letter from herself, to Mr. +Tregear's address in London. The note was very short, and was indeed +dictated by the elder lady, with some dispute, however, as to certain +terms, in which the younger lady had her way. It was as follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Frank</span>,</p> + +<p>I wish you to see Mrs. Finn, who, as you know, was dear +mamma's most particular friend. Please go to her, as she +will ask you to do. When you hear what she says I think +you ought to do what she advises.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours for ever and always,</p> + +<p class="ind15">M. P.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This Mrs. Finn sent enclosed in an envelope, with a few words from +herself, asking the gentleman to call upon her in Park Lane, on a day +and at an hour fixed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c3" id="c3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> +<h3>Francis Oliphant Tregear<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr. Francis Oliphant Tregear was a young man who might not improbably +make a figure in the world, should circumstances be kind to him, but +as to whom it might be doubted whether circumstances would be +sufficiently kind to enable him to use serviceably his unquestionable +talents and great personal gifts. He had taught himself to regard +himself as a young English gentleman of the first water, qualified by +his birth and position to live with all that was most noble and most +elegant; and he could have lived in that sphere naturally and +gracefully were it not that the part of the "sphere" which he +specially affected requires wealth as well as birth and intellect. +Wealth he had not, and yet he did not abandon the sphere. As a +consequence of all this, it was possible that the predictions of his +friends as to that figure which he was to make in the world might be +disappointed.</p> + +<p>He had been educated at Eton, from whence he had been sent to Christ +Church; and both at school and at college had been the most intimate +friend of the son and heir of a great and wealthy duke. He and Lord +Silverbridge had been always together, and they who were interested +in the career of the young nobleman had generally thought he had +chosen his friend well. Tregear had gone out in honours, having been +a second-class man. His friend Silverbridge, we know, had been +allowed to take no degree at all; but the terrible practical joke by +which the whole front of the Dean's house had been coloured scarlet +in the middle of the night, had been carried on without any +assistance from Tregear. The two young men had then been separated +for a year; but immediately after taking his degree, Tregear, at the +invitation of Lord Silverbridge, had gone to Italy, and had there +completely made good his footing with the Duchess,—with what effect +on another member of the Palliser family the reader already knows.</p> + +<p>The young man was certainly clever. When the Duchess found that he +could talk without any shyness, that he could speak French fluently, +and that after a month in Italy he could chatter Italian, at any rate +without reticence or shame; when she perceived that all the women +liked the lad's society and impudence, and that all the young men +were anxious to know him, she was glad to find that Silverbridge had +chosen so valuable a friend. And then he was beautiful to look +at,—putting her almost in mind of another man on whom her eyes had +once loved to dwell. He was dark, with hair that was almost black, +but yet was not black; with clear brown eyes, a nose as regular as +Apollo's, and a mouth in which was ever to be found that expression +of manliness, which of all characteristics is the one which women +love the best. He was five feet ten in height. He was always well +dressed, and yet always so dressed as to seem to show that his +outside garniture had not been matter of trouble to him. Before the +Duchess had dreamed what might take place between this young man and +her daughter she had been urgent in her congratulations to her son as +to the possession of such a friend.</p> + +<p>For though she now and then would catch a glimpse of the outer man, +which would remind her of that other beautiful one whom she had known +in her youth, and though, as these glimpses came, she would remember +how poor in spirit and how unmanly that other one had been, though +she would confess to herself how terrible had been the +heart-shipwreck which that other one had brought upon herself; still +she was able completely to assure herself that this man, though not +superior in external grace, was altogether different in mind and +character. She was old enough now to see all this and to appreciate +it. Young Tregear had his own ideas about the politics of the day, +and they were ideas with which she sympathised, though they were +antagonistic to the politics of her life. He had his ideas about +books too, as to manners of life, as to art, and even ethics. Whether +or no in all this there was not much that was superficial only, she +was not herself deep enough to discover. Nor would she have been +deterred from admiring him had she been told that it was tinsel. Such +were the acquirements, such the charms, that she loved. Here was a +young man who dared to speak, and had always something ready to be +spoken; who was not afraid of beauty, nor daunted by superiority of +rank; who, if he had not money, could carry himself on equal terms +among those who had. In this way he won the Duchess's heart, and +having done that, was it odd that he should win the heart of the +daughter also?</p> + +<p>His father was a Cornwall squire of comfortable means, having joined +the property of his wife to his own for the period of his own life. +She had possessed land also in Cornwall, supposed to be worth fifteen +hundred a year, and his own paternal estate at Polwenning was said to +be double that value. Being a prudent man, he lived at home as a +country gentleman, and thus was able in his county to hold his head +as high as richer men. But Frank Tregear was only his second son; and +though Frank would hereafter inherit his mother's fortune, he was by +no means now in a position to assume the right of living as an idle +man. Yet he was idle. The elder brother, who was considerably older +than Frank, was an odd man, much addicted to quarrelling with his +family, and who spent his time chiefly in travelling about the world. +Frank's mother, who was not the mother of the heir also, would +sometimes surmise, in Frank's hearing, that the entire property must +ultimately come to him. That other Tregear, who was now supposed to +be investigating the mountains of Crim Tartary, would surely never +marry. And Frank was the favourite also with his father, who paid his +debts at Oxford with not much grumbling; who was proud of his +friendship with a future duke; who did not urge, as he ought to have +urged, that vital question of a profession; and who, when he allowed +his son four hundred pounds a year, was almost content with that +son's protestations that he knew how to live as a poor man among rich +men, without chagrin and without trouble.</p> + +<p>Such was the young man who now, in lieu of a profession, had taken +upon himself the responsibility of an engagement with Lady Mary +Palliser. He was tolerably certain that, should he be able to +overcome the parental obstacles which he would no doubt find in his +path, money would be forthcoming sufficient for the purposes of +matrimonial life. The Duke's wealth was fabulous, and as a great part +of it, if not the greater, had come from his wife, there would +probably be ample provision for the younger children. And when the +Duchess had found out how things were going, and had yielded to her +daughter, after an opposition which never had the appearance even of +being in earnest, she had taken upon herself to say that she would +use her influence to prevent any great weight of trouble from +pecuniary matters. Frank Tregear, young and bright, and full of +hearty ambitions, was certainly not the man to pursue a girl simply +because of her fortune; nor was he weak enough to be attracted simply +by the glitter of rank; but he was wise enough with worldly wisdom to +understand thoroughly the comforts of a good income, and he was +sufficiently attached to high position to feel the advantage of +marrying a daughter of the Duke of Omnium.</p> + +<p>When the Duchess was leaving Italy, it had been her declared purpose +to tell her husband the story as soon as they were at home in +England. And it was on this understanding that Frank Tregear had +explained to the girl that he would not as yet ask her father for his +permission to be received into the family as a suitor. Everyone +concerned had felt that the Duke would not easily be reconciled to +such a son-in-law, and that the Duchess should be the one to bell the +cat.</p> + +<p>There was one member of the family who had hitherto been half-hearted +in the matter. Lord Silverbridge had vacillated between loyalty to +his friend and a certain feeling as to the impropriety of such a +match for his sister. He was aware that something very much better +should be expected for her, and still was unable to explain his +objections to Tregear. He had not at first been admitted into +confidence, either by his sister or by Tregear, but had questioned +his friend when he saw what was going on. "Certainly I love your +sister," Tregear had said; "do you object?" Lord Silverbridge was the +weaker of the two, and much subject to the influence of his friend; +but he could on occasion be firm, and he did at first object. But he +did not object strongly, and allowed himself at last to be content +with declaring that the Duke would never give his consent.</p> + +<p>While Tregear was with his love, or near her, his hopes and fears +were sufficient to occupy his mind; and immediately on his return, +all the world was nothing to him, except as far as the world was +concerned with Lady Mary Palliser. He had come back to England +somewhat before the ducal party, and the pleasures and occupations of +London life had not abated his love, but enabled him to feel that +there was something in life over and beyond his love; whereas to Lady +Mary, down at Matching, there had been nothing over and beyond her +love—except the infinite grief and desolation produced by her +mother's death.</p> + +<p>Tregear, when he received the note from Mrs. Finn, was staying at the +Duke's house in Carlton Terrace. Silverbridge was there, and, on +leaving Matching, had asked the Duke's permission to have his friend +with him. The Duke at that time was not well pleased with his son as +to a matter of politics, and gave his son's friend credit for the +evil counsel which had produced this displeasure. But still he had +not refused his assent to this proposition. Had he done so, +Silverbridge would probably have gone elsewhere; and though there was +a matter in respect to Tregear of which the Duke disapproved, it was +not a matter, as he thought, which would have justified him in +expelling the young man from his house. The young man was a strong +Conservative; and now Silverbridge had declared his purpose of +entering the House of Commons, if he did enter it, as one of the +Conservative party.</p> + +<p>This had been a terrible blow to the Duke; and he believed that it +all came from this young Tregear. Still he must do his duty, and not +more than his duty. He knew nothing against Tregear. That a Tregear +should be a Conservative was perhaps natural enough—at any rate, was +not disgraceful; that he should have his political creed sufficiently +at heart to be able to persuade another man, was to his credit. He +was a gentleman, well educated, superior in many things to +Silverbridge himself. There were those who said that Silverbridge had +redeemed himself from contempt—from that sort of contempt which +might be supposed to await a young nobleman who had painted scarlet +the residence of the Head of his college—by the fact of his having +chosen such a friend. The Duke was essentially a just man; and +though, at the very moment in which the request was made, his heart +was half crushed by his son's apostasy, he gave the permission asked.</p> + +<p>"You know Mrs. Finn?" Tregear said to his friend one morning at +breakfast.</p> + +<p>"I remember her all my life. She used to be a great deal with my +grandfather. I believe he left her a lot of diamonds and money, and +that she wouldn't have them. I don't know whether the diamonds are +not locked up somewhere now, so that she can take them when she +pleases."</p> + +<p>"What a singular woman!"</p> + +<p>"It was odd; but she had some fad about it. What makes you ask about +Mrs. Finn?"</p> + +<p>"She wants me to go and see her."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have heard your mother speak of her as though she loved +her dearly," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about loving her dearly. They were intimate, and Mrs. +Finn used to be with her very much when she was in the country. She +was at Matching just now, when my poor mother died. Why does she want +to see you?"</p> + +<p>"She has written to me from Matching. She wants to see +<span class="nowrap">me—"</span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, I do not know what she has to say to me; +though I can guess."</p> + +<p>"What do you guess?"</p> + +<p>"It is something about your sister."</p> + +<p>"You will have to give that up, Tregear."</p> + +<p>"I think not."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will; my father will never stand it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what there is to stand. I am not noble, nor am I rich; +but I am as good a gentleman as he is."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," said the young lord, "you know very well what I +think about all that. A fellow is not any better to me because he has +got a title, nor yet because he owns half a county. But men have +their ideas and feelings about it. My father is a rich man, and of +course he'll want his daughter to marry a rich man. My father is +noble, and he'll want his daughter to marry a nobleman. You can't +very well marry Mary without his permission, and therefore you had +better let it alone."</p> + +<p>"I haven't even asked his permission as yet."</p> + +<p>"Even my mother was afraid to speak to him about it, and I never knew +her to be afraid to say anything else to him."</p> + +<p>"I shall not be afraid," said Tregear, looking grimly.</p> + +<p>"I should. That's the difference between us."</p> + +<p>"He can't very well eat me."</p> + +<p>"Nor even bite you;—nor will he abuse you. But he can look at you, +and he can say a word or two which you will find it very hard to +bear. My governor is the quietest man I know, but he has a way of +making himself disagreeable when he wishes, that I never saw +equalled."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, I had better go and see your Mrs. Finn." Then Tregear +wrote a line to Mrs. Finn, and made his appointment.</p> + + +<p><a name="c4" id="c4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +<h3>Park Lane<br /> </h3> + + +<p>From the beginning of the affair Tregear had found the necessity of +bolstering himself up inwardly in his great attempt by mottoes, +proverbs, and instigations to courage addressed to himself. "None but +the brave deserve the fair." "De l'audace, et encore de l'audace, et +toujours de l'audace." He was a man naturally of good heart in such +matters, who was not afraid of his brother-men, nor yet of women, his +sisters. But in this affair he knew very much persistence would be +required of him, and that even with such persistence he might +probably fail, unless he should find a more than ordinary constancy +in the girl. That the Duke could not eat him, indeed that nobody +could eat him as long as he carried himself as an honest man and a +gentleman, was to him an inward assurance on which he leaned much. +And yet he was conscious, almost with a feeling of shame, that in +Italy he had not spoken to the Duke about his daughter because he was +afraid lest the Duke might eat him. In such an affair he should have +been careful from the first to keep his own hands thoroughly clean. +Had it not been his duty as a gentleman to communicate with the +father, if not before he gained the girl's heart, at any rate as soon +as he knew he had done so? He had left Italy thinking that he would +certainly meet the Duchess and her daughter in London, and that then +he might go to the Duke as though this love of his had arisen from +the sweetness of those meetings in London. But all these ideas had +been dissipated by the great misfortune of the death of Lady Mary's +mother. From all this he was driven to acknowledge to himself that +his silence in Italy had been wrong, that he had been weak in +allowing himself to be guided by the counsel of the Duchess, and that +he had already armed the Duke with one strong argument against him.</p> + +<p>He did not doubt but that Mrs. Finn would be opposed to him. Of +course he could not doubt but that all the world would now be opposed +to him,—except the girl herself. He would find no other friend so +generous, so romantic, so unworldly as the Duchess had been. It was +clear to him that Lady Mary had told the story of her engagement to +Mrs. Finn, and that Mrs. Finn had not as yet told it to the Duke. +From this he was justified in regarding Mrs. Finn as the girl's +friend. The request made was that he should at once do something +which Mrs. Finn was to suggest. He could hardly have been so +requested, and that in terms of such warm affection, had it been Mrs. +Finn's intention to ask him to desist altogether from his courtship. +This woman was regarded by Lady Mary as her mother's dearest friend. +It was therefore incumbent on him now to induce her to believe in him +as the Duchess had believed.</p> + +<p>He knocked at the door of Mrs. Finn's little house in Park Lane a few +minutes before the time appointed, and found himself alone when he +was shown into the drawing-room. He had heard much of this lady +though he had never seen her, and had heard much also of her husband. +There had been a kind of mystery about her. People did not quite +understand how it was that she had been so intimate with the Duchess, +nor why the late Duke had left to her an enormous legacy, which as +yet had never been claimed. There was supposed, too, to have been +something especially romantic in her marriage with her present +husband. It was believed also that she was very rich. The rumours of +all these things together had made her a person of note, and Tregear, +when he found himself alone in the drawing-room, looked round about +him as though a special interest was to be attached to the belongings +of such a woman. It was a pretty room, somewhat dark, because the +curtains were almost closed across the windows, but furnished with a +pretty taste, and now, in these early April days, filled with +flowers.</p> + +<p>"I have to apologise, Mr. Tregear, for keeping you waiting," she said +as she entered the room.</p> + +<p>"I fear I was before my time."</p> + +<p>"I know that I am after mine,—a few minutes," said the lady.</p> + +<p>He told himself that though she was not a young woman, yet she was +attractive. She was dark, and still wore her black hair in curls, +such as are now seldom seen with ladies. Perhaps the reduced light of +the chamber had been regulated with some regard to her complexion and +to her age. The effect, however, was good, and Frank Tregear felt at +once interested in her.</p> + +<p>"You have just come up from Matching?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; only the day before yesterday. It is very good of you to come +to me so soon."</p> + +<p>"Of course I came when you sent for me. I am afraid the Duke felt his +loss severely."</p> + +<p>"How should he not, such a loss as it was? Few people knew how much +he trusted her, and how dearly he loved her."</p> + +<p>"Silverbridge has told me that he is awfully cut up."</p> + +<p>"You have seen Lord Silverbridge then?"</p> + +<p>"Just at present I am living with him, at Carlton Terrace."</p> + +<p>"In the Duke's house?" she asked, with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes; in the Duke's house. Silverbridge and I have been very +intimate. Of course the Duke knows that I am there. Is there any +chance of his coming to town?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, I fear. He is determined to be alone. I wish it were +otherwise, as I am sure he would better bear his sorrow, if he would +go about among other men."</p> + +<p>"No doubt he would suffer less," said Tregear. Then there was a +pause. Each wished that the other should introduce the matter which +both knew was to be the subject of their conversation. But Tregear +would not begin. "When I left them all at Florence," he said, "I +little thought that I should never see her again."</p> + +<p>"You had been intimate with them, Mr. Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think I may say I have been intimate with them. I had been at +Eton and at Christ Church with Silverbridge, and we have always been +much together."</p> + +<p>"I have understood that. Have you and the Duke been good friends?"</p> + +<p>"We have never been enemies."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not that."</p> + +<p>"The Duke, I think, does not much care about young people. I hardly +know what he used to do with himself. When I dined with them, I saw +him, but I did not often do that. I think he used to read a good +deal, and walk about alone. We were always riding."</p> + +<p>"Lady Mary used to ride?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; and Lord Silverbridge and Lord Gerald. And the Duchess used +to drive. One of us would always be with her."</p> + +<p>"And so you became intimate with the whole family?"</p> + +<p>"So I became intimate with the whole family."</p> + +<p>"And especially so with Lady Mary?" This she said in her sweetest +possible tone, and with a most gracious smile.</p> + +<p>"Especially so with Lady Mary," he replied.</p> + +<p>"It will be very good of you, Mr. Tregear, if you endure and forgive +all this cross-questioning from me, who am a perfect stranger to +you."</p> + +<p>"But you are not a perfect stranger to her."</p> + +<p>"That is it, of course. Now, if you will allow me, I will explain to +you exactly what my footing with her is. When the Duchess returned, +and when I found her to be so ill as she passed through London, I +went down with her into the country,—quite as a matter of course."</p> + +<p>"So I understand."</p> + +<p>"And there she died,—in my arms. I will not try to harass you by +telling you what those few days were; how absolutely he was struck to +the ground, how terrible was the grief of the daughter, how the boys +were astonished by the feeling of their loss. After a few days they +went away. It was, I think, their father's wish that they should go. +And I too was going away,—and had felt, indeed, directly her spirit +had parted from her, that I was only in the way in his house. But I +stayed at his request, because he did not wish his daughter to be +alone."</p> + +<p>"I can easily understand that, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"I wanted her to go to Lady Cantrip who had invited her, but she +would not. In that way we were thrown together in the closest +intercourse, for two or three weeks. Then she told me the story of +your engagement."</p> + +<p>"That was natural, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Surely so. Think of her position, left as she is without a mother! +It was incumbent on her to tell someone. There was, however, one +other person in whom it would have been much better that she should +have confided."</p> + +<p>"What person?"</p> + +<p>"Her father."</p> + +<p>"I rather fancy that it is I who ought to tell him."</p> + +<p>"As far as I understand these things, Mr. Tregear,—which, indeed, is +very imperfectly,—I think it is natural that a girl should at once +tell her mother when a gentleman has made her understand that he +loves her."</p> + +<p>"She did so, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose that generally the mother would tell the father."</p> + +<p>"She did not."</p> + +<p>"No; and therefore the position of the young lady is now one of great +embarrassment. The Duchess has gone from us, and we must now make up +our minds as to what had better be done. It is out of the question +that Lady Mary should be allowed to consider herself to be engaged, +and that the father should be kept in ignorance of her position." She +paused for his reply, but as he said nothing, she continued: "Either +you must tell the Duke, or she must do so, or I must do so."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she told you in confidence."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. She told it me presuming that I would not betray her; but +I shall,—if that be a betrayal. The Duke must know it. It will be +infinitely better that he should know it through you, or through her, +than through me. But he must be told."</p> + +<p>"I can't quite see why," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"For her sake,—whom I suppose you love."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I love her."</p> + +<p>"In order that she may not suffer. I wonder you do not see it, Mr. +Tregear. Perhaps you have a sister."</p> + +<p>"I have no sister as it happens."</p> + +<p>"But you can imagine what your feelings would be. Should you like to +think of a sister as being engaged to a man without the knowledge of +any of her family?"</p> + +<p>"It was not so. The Duchess knew it. The present condition of things +is altogether an accident."</p> + +<p>"It is an accident that must be brought to an end."</p> + +<p>"Of course it must be brought to an end. I am not such a fool as to +suppose that I can make her my wife without telling her father."</p> + +<p>"I mean at once, Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that you are rather dictating to me, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"I owe you an apology, of course, for meddling in your affairs at +all. But as it will be more conducive to your success that the Duke +should hear this from you than from me, and as I feel that I am bound +by my duty to him and to Lady Mary to see that he be not left in +ignorance, I think that I am doing you a service."</p> + +<p>"I do not like to have a constraint put upon me."</p> + +<p>"That, Mr. Tregear, is what gentlemen, I fancy, very often feel in +regard to ladies. But the constraint of which you speak is necessary +for their protection. Are you unwilling to see the Duke?"</p> + +<p>He was very unwilling, but he would not confess so much. He gave +various reasons for delay, urging repeatedly that the question of his +marriage was one which he could not press upon the Duke so soon after +the death of the Duchess. And when she assured him that this was a +matter of importance so great, that even the death of the man's wife +should not be held by him to justify delay, he became angry, and for +awhile insisted that he must be allowed to follow his own judgment. +But he gave her a promise that he would see the Duke before a week +was over. Nevertheless he left the house in dudgeon, having told Mrs. +Finn more than once that she was taking advantage of Lady Mary's +confidence. They hardly parted as friends, and her feeling was, on +the whole, hostile to him and to his love. It could not, she thought, +be for the happiness of such a one as Lady Mary that she should give +herself to one who seemed to have so little to recommend him.</p> + +<p>He, when he had left her, was angry with his own weakness. He had not +only promised that he would make his application to the Duke, but +that he would do so within the period of a week. Who was she that she +should exact terms from him after this fashion, and prescribe days +and hours? And now, because this strange woman had spoken to him, he +was compelled to make a journey down to the Duke's country house, and +seek an interview in which he would surely be snubbed!</p> + +<p>This occurred on a Wednesday, and he resolved that he would go down +to Matching on the next Monday. He said nothing of his plan to any +one, and not a word passed between him and Lord Silverbridge about +Lady Mary during the first two or three days. But on the Saturday +Silverbridge appeared at breakfast with a letter in his hand. "The +governor is coming up to town," he said.</p> + +<p>"Immediately?"</p> + +<p>"In the course of next week. He says that he thinks he shall be here +on Wednesday."</p> + +<p>It immediately struck Tregear that this sudden journey must have some +reference to Lady Mary and her engagement. "Do you know why he is +coming?"</p> + +<p>"Because of these vacancies in Parliament."</p> + +<p>"Why should that bring him up?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he hopes to be able to talk me into obedience. He wants me +to stand for the county—as a Liberal, of course. I intend to stand +for the borough as a Conservative, and I have told them so down at +Silverbridge. I am very sorry to annoy him, and all that kind of +thing. But what the deuce is a fellow to do? If a man has got +political convictions of his own, of course, he must stick to them." +This the young Lord said with a good deal of self-assurance, as +though he, by the light of his own reason, had ascertained on which +side the truth lay in political contests of the day.</p> + +<p>"There is a good deal to be said on both sides of the question, my +boy." At this particular moment Tregear felt that the Duke ought to +be propitiated.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have me give up my convictions!"</p> + +<p>"A seat in Parliament is a great thing."</p> + +<p>"I can probably secure that, whichever side I take. I thought you +were so devilish hot against the Radicals."</p> + +<p>"So I am. But then you are, as it were, bound by family allegiance."</p> + +<p>"I'll be shot if I am. One never knows how to understand you +nowadays. It used to be a great doctrine with you, that nothing +should induce a man to vote against his political opinions."</p> + +<p>"So it is,—if he has really got any. However, as your father is +coming to London, I need not go down to Matching."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you were going to Matching?"</p> + +<p>"I had intended to beard the lion in his country den; but now the +lion will find me in his own town den, and I must beard him here."</p> + +<p>Then Tregear wrote a most chilling note to Mrs. Finn, informing her +with great precision, that, as the Duke of Omnium intended to be in +town one day next week, he would postpone the performance of his +promise for a day or two beyond the allotted time.</p> + + +<p><a name="c5" id="c5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +<h3>"It Is Impossible"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Down at Matching Lady Mary's life was very dull after Mrs. Finn had +left her. She had a horse to ride, but had no one to ride with her. +She had a carriage in which to be driven, but no one to be driven +with her, and no special places whither to go. Her father would walk +daily for two hours, and she would accompany him when he encouraged +her to do so; but she had an idea that he preferred taking his walks +alone, and when they were together there was no feeling of confidence +between them. There could be none on her part, as she knew that she +was keeping back information which he was entitled to possess. On +this matter she received two letters from Mrs. Finn, in the first of +which she was told that Mr. Tregear intended to present himself at +Matching within a few days, and was advised in the same letter not to +endeavour to see her lover on that occasion; and then, in the second +she was informed that this interview with her father was to be sought +not at Matching but in London. From this latter letter there was of +course some disappointment, though some feeling of relief. Had he +come there she might possibly have seen him after the interview. But +she would have been subjected to the immediate sternness of her +father's anger. That she would now escape. She would not be called on +to meet him just when the first blow had fallen upon him. She was +quite sure that he would disapprove of the thing. She was quite sure +that he would be very angry. She knew that he was a peculiarly just +man, and yet she thought that in this he would be unjust. Had she +been called upon to sing the praises of her father she would have +insisted above all things on the absolute integrity of his mind, and +yet, knowing as she did that he would be opposed to her marriage with +Mr. Tregear, she assured herself every day and every hour that he had +no right to make any such objection. The man she loved was a +gentleman, and an honest man, by no means a fool, and subject to no +vices. Her father had no right to demand that she should give her +heart to a rich man, or to one of high rank. Rank! As for rank, she +told herself that she had the most supreme contempt for it. She +thought that she had seen it near enough already to be sure that it +ought to have no special allurements. What was it doing for her? +Simply restraining her choice among comparatively a few who seemed to +her by no means the best endowed of God's creatures.</p> + +<p>Of one thing she was very sure, that under no pressure whatsoever +would she abandon her engagement with Mr. Tregear. That to her had +become a bond almost as holy as matrimony itself could be. She had +told the man that she loved him, and after that there could be no +retreat. He had kissed her, and she had returned his caress. He had +told her that she was his, as his arm was round her; and she had +acknowledged that it was so, that she belonged to him, and could not +be taken away from him. All this was to her a compact so sacred that +nothing could break it but a desire on his part to have it annulled. +No other man had ever whispered a word of love to her, of no other +man had an idea entered her mind that it could be pleasant to join +her lot in life with his. With her it had been all new and all +sacred. Love with her had that religion which nothing but freshness +can give it. That freshness, that bloom, may last through a long +life. But every change impairs it, and after many changes it has +perished for ever. There was no question with her but that she must +bear her father's anger, should he be angry; put up with his +continued opposition, should he resolutely oppose her; bear all that +the countesses of the world might say to her;—for it was thus that +she thought of Lady Cantrip now. Any retrogression was beyond her +power.</p> + +<p>She was walking with her father when she first heard of his intended +visit to London. At that time she had received Mrs. Finn's first +letter, but not the second. "I suppose you'll see Silverbridge," she +said. She knew then that Frank Tregear was living with her brother.</p> + +<p>"I am going up on purpose to see him. He is causing me much +annoyance."</p> + +<p>"Is he extravagant?"</p> + +<p>"It is not that—at present." He winced even as he said this, for he +had in truth suffered somewhat from demands made upon him for money, +which had hurt him not so much by their amount as by their nature. +Lord Silverbridge had taken upon himself to "own a horse or two," +very much to his father's chagrin, and was at this moment part +proprietor of an animal supposed to stand well for the Derby. The +fact was not announced in the papers with his lordship's name, but +his father was aware of it, and did not like it the better because +his son held the horse in partnership with a certain Major Tifto, who +was well known in the sporting world.</p> + +<p>"What is it, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he ought to go into Parliament."</p> + +<p>"I think he wishes it himself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how? By a piece of extreme good fortune, West Barsetshire +is open to him. The two seats are vacant together. There is hardly +another agricultural county in England that will return a Liberal, +and I fear I am not asserting too much in saying that no other +Liberal could carry the seat but one of our family."</p> + +<p>"You used to sit for Silverbridge, papa."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did. In those days the county returned four Conservatives. I +cannot explain it all to you, but it is his duty to contest the +county on the Liberal side."</p> + +<p>"But if he is a Conservative himself, papa?" asked Lady Mary, who had +had some political ideas suggested to her own mind by her lover.</p> + +<p>"It is all rubbish. It has come from that young man Tregear, with +whom he has been associating."</p> + +<p>"But, papa," said Lady Mary, who felt that even in this matter she +was bound to be firm on what was now her side of the question, "I +suppose it is as—as—as respectable to be a Conservative as a +Liberal."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that at all," said the Duke angrily.</p> + +<p>"I thought that—the two sides were—"</p> + +<p>She was going to express an opinion that the two parties might be +supposed to stand as equal in the respect of the country, when he +interrupted her. "The Pallisers have always been Liberal. It will be +a blow to me, indeed, if Silverbridge deserts his colours. I know +that as yet he himself has had no deep thoughts on the subject, that +unfortunately he does not give himself much to thinking, and that in +this matter he is being talked over by a young man whose position in +life has hardly justified the great intimacy which has existed."</p> + +<p>This was very far from being comfortable to her, but of course she +said nothing in defence of Tregear's politics. Nor at present was she +disposed to say anything as to his position in life, though at some +future time she might not be so silent. A few days later they were +again walking together, when he spoke to her about herself. "I cannot +bear that you should be left here alone while I am away," he said.</p> + +<p>"You will not be long gone, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Only for three or four days now."</p> + +<p>"I shall not mind that, papa."</p> + +<p>"But very probably I may have to go into Barsetshire. Would you not +be happier if you would let me write to Lady Cantrip, and tell her +that you will go to her?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa, I think not. There are times when one feels that one ought +to be almost alone. Don't you feel that?"</p> + +<p>"I do not wish you to feel it, nor would you do so long if you had +other people around you. With me it is different. I am an old man, +and cannot look for new pleasures in society. It has been the fault +of my life to be too much alone. I do not want to see my children +follow me in that."</p> + +<p>"It is so very short a time as yet," said she, thinking of her +mother's death.</p> + +<p>"But I think that you should be with somebody,—with some woman who +would be kind to you. I like to see you with books, but books alone +should not be sufficient at your age." How little, she thought, did +he know of the state either of her heart or mind! "Do you dislike +Lady Cantrip?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know her. I can't say that I dislike a person whom I don't +think I ever spoke to, and never saw above once or twice. But how can +I say that I like her?" She did, however, know that Lady Cantrip was +a countess all over, and would be shocked at the idea of a daughter +of a Duke of Omnium marrying the younger son of a country squire. +Nothing further was then said on the matter, and when the Duke went +to town Lady Mary was left quite alone, with an understanding that if +he went into Barsetshire he should come back and take her with him.</p> + +<p>He arrived at his own house in Carlton Terrace about five o'clock in +the afternoon, and immediately went to his study, intending to dine +and spend the evening there alone. His son had already pleaded an +engagement for that afternoon, but had consented to devote the +following morning to his father's wishes. Of the other sojourner in +his house the Duke had thought nothing; but the other sojourner had +thought very much of the Duke. Frank Tregear was fully possessed of +that courage which induces a man who knows that he must be thrown +over a precipice, to choose the first possible moment for his fall. +He had sounded Silverbridge about this change in his politics, and +had found his friend quite determined not to go back to the family +doctrine. Such being the case, the Duke's ill-will and hardness and +general severity would probably be enhanced by his interview with his +son. Tregear, therefore, thinking that nothing could be got by delay, +sent his name in to the Duke before he had been an hour in the house, +and asked for an interview. The servant brought back word that his +Grace was fatigued, but would see Mr. Tregear if the matter in +question was one of importance. Frank's heart quailed for a moment, +but only for a moment. He took up a pen and wrote a note.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Duke of Omnium</span>,</p> + +<p>If your Grace can spare a moment, I think you will find +that what I have to say will justify the intrusion.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your very faithful servant,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">F. O. +Tregear</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Of course the Duke admitted him. There was but one idea in his head +as to what was coming. His son had taken this way of making some +communication to him respecting his political creed. Some overture or +some demand was to be preferred through Tregear. If so, it was proof +of a certain anxiety as to the matter on his son's part which was not +displeasing to him. But he was not left long in this mistake after +Tregear had entered the room. "Sir," he said, speaking quite at once, +as soon as the door was closed behind him, but still speaking very +slowly, looking beautiful as Apollo as he stood upright before his +wished-for father-in-law—"Sir, I have come to you to ask you to give +me the hand of your daughter." The few words had been all arranged +beforehand, and were now spoken without any appearance of fear or +shame. No one hearing them would have imagined that an almost +penniless young gentleman was asking in marriage the daughter of the +richest and greatest nobleman in England.</p> + +<p>"The hand of my daughter!" said the Duke, rising from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I know how very great is the prize," said Frank, "and how unworthy I +am of it. But—as she thinks me +<span class="nowrap">worthy—"</span></p> + +<p>"She! What she?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Mary."</p> + +<p>"She think you worthy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your Grace."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it." On hearing this, Frank simply bowed his head. +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Tregear. I do not mean to say that I do not +believe you. I never yet gave the lie to a gentleman, and I hope I +never may be driven to do so. But there must be some mistake in +this."</p> + +<p>"I am complying with Lady Mary's wishes in asking your permission to +enter your house as her suitor." The Duke stood for a moment biting +his lips in silence. "I cannot believe it," he said at last. "I +cannot bring myself to believe it. There must be some mistake. My +daughter! Lady Mary Palliser!" Again the young man bowed his head. +"What are your pretensions?"</p> + +<p>"Simply her regard."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is impossible. You are not so ignorant but that you +must have known as much when you came to me."</p> + +<p>There was so much scorn in his words, and in the tone in which they +were uttered, that Tregear in his turn was becoming angry. He had +prepared himself to bow humbly before the great man, before the Duke, +before the Crœsus, before the late Prime Minister, before the man +who was to be regarded as certainly one of the most exalted of the +earth; but he had not prepared himself to be looked at as the Duke +looked at him. "The truth, my Lord Duke, is this," he said, "that +your daughter loves me, and that we are engaged to each other,—as +far as that engagement can be made without your sanction as her +father."</p> + +<p>"It cannot have been made at all," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"I can only hope,—we can both of us only hope that a +little time may <span class="nowrap">soften—"</span></p> + +<p>"It is out of the question. There must be an end of this altogether. +You must neither see her, nor hear from her, nor in any way +communicate with her. It is altogether impossible. I believe, sir, +that you have no means?"</p> + +<p>"Very little at present, Duke."</p> + +<p>"How did you think you were to live? But it is altogether unnecessary +to speak of such a matter as that. There are so many reasons to make +this impossible, that it would be useless to discuss one as being +more important than others. Has any other one of my family known of +this?" This he added, wishing to ascertain whether Lord Silverbridge +had disgraced himself by lending his hand to such a disposition of +his sister.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Who has known it?"</p> + +<p>"The Duchess, sir. We had all her sympathy and approval."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe a word of it," said the Duke, becoming extremely +red in the face. He was forced to do now that which he had just +declared that he had never done in his life,—driven by the desire of +his heart to acquit the wife he had lost of the terrible imprudence, +worse than imprudence, of which she was now accused.</p> + +<p>"That is the second time, my Lord, that you have found it necessary +to tell me that you have not believed direct assertions which I made +you. But, luckily for me, the two assertions are capable of the +earliest and most direct proof. You will believe Lady Mary, and she +will confirm me in the one and the other."</p> + +<p>The Duke was almost beside himself with emotion and grief. He did +know,—though now at this moment he was most loath to own to himself +that it was so,—that his dear wife had been the most imprudent of +women. And he recognised in her encouragement of this most pernicious +courtship,—if she had encouraged it,—a repetition of that romantic +folly by which she had so nearly brought herself to shipwreck in her +own early life. If it had been so,—even whether it had been so or +not,—he had been wrong to tell the man that he did not believe him. +And the man had rebuked him with dignity. "At any rate it is +impossible," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"I cannot allow that it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"That is for me to judge, sir."</p> + +<p>"I trust that you will excuse me when I say that I also must hold +myself to be in some degree a judge in the matter. If you were in my +place, you would <span class="nowrap">feel—"</span></p> + +<p>"I could not possibly be in your place."</p> + +<p>"If your Grace were in my place you would feel that as long as you +were assured by the young lady that your affection was valued by her +you would not be deterred by the opposition of her father. That you +should yield to me, of course I do not expect; that Lady Mary should +be persistent in her present feelings, when she knows your mind, +perhaps I have no right to hope; but should she be so persistent as +to make you feel that her happiness depends, as mine does, on our +marriage, then I shall believe that you will yield at last."</p> + +<p>"Never!" said the Duke. "Never! I shall never believe that my +daughter's happiness can be assured by a step which I should regard +as disgraceful to her."</p> + +<p>"Disgraceful is a violent word, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"It is the only word that will express my meaning."</p> + +<p>"And one which I must be bold enough to say you are not justified in +using. Should she become my wife to-morrow, no one in England would +think she had disgraced herself. The Queen would receive her on her +marriage. All your friends would hold out their hands to +us,—presuming that we had your goodwill."</p> + +<p>"But you would not have it."</p> + +<p>"Her disgrace would not depend upon that, my Lord. Should your +daughter so dispose of herself, as to disgrace herself,—which I +think to be impossible,—your countenance could not set her right. +Nor can the withdrawal of your countenance condemn her before the +world if she does that with herself which any other lady might do and +remain a lady."</p> + +<p>The Duke, when he heard this, even in the midst of his wrath, which +was very violent, and in the midst of his anger, which was very +acute, felt that he had to deal with a man,—with one whom he could +not put off from him into the gutter, and there leave as buried in +the mud. And there came, too, a feeling upon him, which he had no +time to analyse, but of which he was part aware, that this terrible +indiscretion on the part of his daughter and of his late wife was +less wonderful than it had at first appeared to be. But not on that +account was he the less determined to make the young man feel that +his parental opposition would be invincible.</p> + +<p>"It is quite impossible, sir. I do not think that I need say anything +more." Then, while Tregear was meditating whether to make any reply, +the Duke asked a question which had better have been left unasked. +The asking of it diminished somewhat from that ducal, grand-ducal, +quasi-archducal, almost godlike superiority which he had assumed, and +showed the curiosity of a mere man. "Has anybody else been aware of +this?" he said, still wishing to know whether he had cause for anger +against Silverbridge in the matter.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Finn is aware of it," answered Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Finn!" exclaimed the Duke, as though he had been stung by an +adder.</p> + +<p>This was the woman whom he had prayed to remain awhile with his +daughter after his wife had been laid in her grave, in order that +there might be someone near whom he could trust! And this very woman +whom he had so trusted,—whom, in his early associations with her, he +had disliked and distrusted, but had taught himself both to like and +to trust because his wife had loved her,—this woman was the +she-Pandarus who had managed matters between Tregear and his +daughter! His wife had been too much subject to her influence. That +he had always known. And now, in this last act of her life, she had +allowed herself to be persuaded to give up her daughter by the +baneful wiles of this most pernicious woman. Such were the workings +of the Duke's mind when the young man told him that Mrs. Finn was +acquainted with the whole affair. As the reader is aware, nothing +could have been more unjust.</p> + +<p>"I mentioned her name," said Tregear, "because I thought she had been +a friend of the family."</p> + +<p>"That will do, sir. I have been greatly pained as well as surprised +by what I have heard. Of the real state of the case I can form no +opinion till I see my daughter. You, of course, will hold no further +intercourse with her." He paused as though for a promise, but Tregear +did not feel himself called upon to say a word in one direction or in +the other. "It will be my care that you shall not do so. +Good-morning, sir."</p> + +<p>Tregear, who during the interview had been standing, then bowed, +turned upon his heel, and left the room.</p> + +<p>The Duke seated himself, and, crossing his arms upon his chest, sat +for an hour looking up at the ceiling. Why was it that, for him, such +a world of misery had been prepared? What wrong had he done, of what +imprudence had he been guilty, that, at every turn of life, something +should occur so grievous as to make him think himself the most +wretched of men? No man had ever loved his wife more dearly than he +had done; and yet now, in that very excess of tenderness which her +death had occasioned, he was driven to accuse her of a great sin +against himself, in that she had kept from him her knowledge of this +affair;—for, when he came to turn the matter over in his mind, he +did believe Tregear's statement as to her encouragement. Then, too, +he had been proud of his daughter. He was a man so reticent and +undemonstrative in his manner that he had never known how to make +confidential friends of his children. In his sons hitherto he had not +taken pride. They were gallant, well-grown, handsome boys, with a +certain dash of cleverness,—more like their mother than their +father; but they had not as yet done anything as he would have had +them do it. But the girl, in the perfection of her beauty, in the +quiescence of her manner, in the nature of her studies, and in the +general dignity of her bearing, had seemed to be all that he had +desired. And now she had engaged herself, behind his back, to the +younger son of a little county squire!</p> + +<p>But his anger against Mrs. Finn was hotter than his anger against any +one in his own family.</p> + + +<p><a name="c6" id="c6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +<h3>Major Tifto<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Major Tifto had lately become a member of the Beargarden Club, under +the auspices of his friend Lord Silverbridge. It was believed, by +those who had made some inquiry into the matter, that the Major had +really served a campaign as a volunteer in the Carlist army in the +north of Spain. When, therefore, it was declared by someone that he +was not a major at all, his friends were able to contradict the +assertion, and to impute it to slander. Instances were brought +up,—declared by these friends to be innumerable, but which did, in +truth, amount to three or four,—of English gentlemen who had come +home from a former Carlist war, bearing the title of colonel, without +any contradiction or invidious remark. Had this gallant officer +appeared as Colonel Tifto, perhaps less might have been said about +it. There was a little lack of courage in the title which he did +choose. But it was accepted at last, and, as Major Tifto, he was +proposed, seconded, and elected at the Beargarden.</p> + +<p>But he had other points in his favour besides the friendship of Lord +Silverbridge,—points which had probably led to that friendship. He +was, without doubt, one of the best horsemen in England. There were +some who said that, across country, he was the very best, and that, +as a judge of a hunter, few excelled him. Of late years he had crept +into credit as a betting-man. No one supposed that he had much +capital to work with; but still, when he lost a bet he paid it.</p> + +<p>Soon after his return from Spain, he was chosen as Master of the +Runnymede Fox-Hounds, and was thus enabled to write the letters +M.F.H. after his name. The gentlemen who rode with the Runnymede were +not very liberal in their terms, and had lately been compelled to +change their Master rather more frequently than was good for that +quasi-suburban hunt; but now they had fitted themselves well. How he +was to hunt the country five days a fortnight, finding servants and +horses, and feeding the hounds, for eight hundred pounds a year, no +one could understand. But Major Tifto not only undertook to do it, +but did it. And he actually succeeded in obtaining for the Runnymede +a degree of popularity which for many years previous it had not +possessed. Such a man,—even though no one did know anything of his +father or mother, though no one had ever heard him speak of a brother +or a sister, though it was believed that he had no real income,—was +felt by many to be the very man for the Beargarden; and when his name +was brought up at the committee, Lord Silverbridge was able to say so +much in his favour that only two blackballs were given against him. +Under the mild rule of the club, three would have been necessary to +exclude him; and therefore Major Tifto was now as good a member as +any one else.</p> + +<p>He was a well-made little man, good-looking for those who like such +good looks. He was light-haired and blue-eyed, with regular and yet +not inexpressive features. But his eyes were small and never +tranquil, and rarely capable of looking at the person who was +speaking to him. He had small well-trimmed, glossy whiskers, with the +best-kept moustache, and the best-kept tuft on his chin which were to +be seen anywhere. His face still bore the freshness of youth, which +was a marvel to many, who declared that, from facts within their +knowledge, Tifto must be far on the wrong side of forty. At a first +glance you would hardly have called him thirty. No doubt, when, on +close inspection, you came to look into his eyes, you could see the +hand of time. Even if you believed the common assertion that he +painted,—which it was very hard to believe of a man who passed the +most of his time in the hunting-field or on a race-course,—yet the +paint on his cheeks would not enable him to move with the elasticity +which seemed to belong to all his limbs. He rode flat races and +steeple chases,—if jump races may still be so called; and with his +own hounds and with the Queen's did incredible things on horseback. +He could jump over chairs too,—the backs of four chairs in a +dining-room after dinner,—a feat which no gentleman of forty-five +could perform, even though he painted himself ever so.</p> + +<p>So much in praise of Major Tifto honesty has compelled the present +chronicler to say. But there were traits of character in which he +fell off a little, even in the estimation of those whose pursuits +endeared him to them. He could not refrain from boasting,—and +especially from boasting about women. His desire for glory in that +direction knew no bounds, and he would sometimes mention names, and +bring himself into trouble. It was told of him that at one period of +his life, when misfortune had almost overcome him, when sorrow had +produced prostration, and prostration some expression of truth, he +had owned to a friend his own conviction that could he have kept his +tongue from talking of women, he might have risen to prosperity in +his profession. From these misfortunes he had emerged, and, no doubt, +had often reflected on what he himself had then said. But we know +that the drunkard, though he hates drunkenness, cannot but +drink,—that the gambler cannot keep from the dice. Major Tifto still +lied about women, and could not keep his tongue from the subject. He +would boast, too, about other matters,—much to his own disadvantage. +He was, too, very "deep", and some men, who could put up with his +other failings, could not endure that. Whatever he wanted to do he +would attempt round three corners. Though he could ride straight, he +could do nothing else straight. He was full of mysteries. If he +wanted to draw Charter Wood he would take his hounds out of the +street at Egham directly in the other direction. If he had made up +his mind to ride Lord Pottlepot's horse for the great Leamington +handicap, he would be sure to tell even his intimate friends that he +was almost determined to take the "baronet's" offer of a mount. This +he would do even where there was no possible turn in the betting to +be affected by such falsehood. So that his companions were apt to +complain that there was no knowing where to have Tifto. And then, +they who were old enough in the world to have had some experience in +men, had perceived that peculiar quality of his eyes, which never +allowed him to look any one in the face.</p> + +<p>That Major Tifto should make money by selling horses was, perhaps, a +necessity of his position. No one grumbled at him because he did so, +or thought that such a pursuit was incompatible with his character as +a sporting gentleman. But there were some who considered that they +had suffered unduly under his hands, and in their bargains with him +had been made to pay more than a proper amount of tax for the +advantages of his general assistance. When a man has perhaps made +fifty pounds by using a "straight tip" as to a horse at Newmarket, in +doing which he had of course encountered some risks, he feels he +ought not to be made to pay the amount back into the pockets of the +"tipper," and at the same time to find himself saddled with the +possession of a perfectly useless animal. In this way there were +rocks in the course through which Tifto was called on to steer his +bark. Of course he was anxious, when preying upon his acquaintances, +to spare those who were useful friends to him. Now and again he would +sell a serviceable animal at a fair price, and would endeavour to +make such sale in favour of someone whose countenance would be a rock +to him. He knew his business well, but yet there would be mistakes.</p> + +<p>Now, at this very moment, was the culmination of the Major's life. He +was Master of the Runnymede Hounds, he was partner with the eldest +son of a Duke in the possession of that magnificent colt, the Prime +Minister, and he was a member of the Beargarden. He was a man who had +often been despondent about himself, but was now disposed to be a +little triumphant. He had finished his season well with the +Runnymede, and were it not that, let him work as he would, his +expenses always exceeded his means, he would have been fairly +comfortable.</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock Lord Silverbridge and his friend met in the +dining-room of the Beargarden. "Have you been here before?" asked the +Lord.</p> + +<p>"Not in here, my Lord. I just looked in at the smoking-room last +night. Glasslough and Nidderdale were there. I thought we should have +got up a rubber, but they didn't seem to see it."</p> + +<p>"There is whist here generally. You'll find out all about it before +long. Perhaps they are a little afraid of you."</p> + +<p>"I'm the worst hand at cards, I suppose, in England. A dash at loo +for about an hour, and half-a-dozen cuts at blind hookey,—that's +about my form. I know I drop more than I pick up. If I knew what I +was about I should never touch a card."</p> + +<p>"Horses; eh, Tifto?"</p> + +<p>"Horses, yes. They've pretty good claret, here, eh, Silverbridge?" He +could never hit off his familiarity quite right. He had my-Lorded his +young friend at first, and now brought out the name with a hesitating +twang, which the young nobleman appreciated. But then the young +nobleman was quite aware that the Major was a friend for club +purposes, and sporting purposes, and not for home use.</p> + +<p>"Everything of that kind is pretty good here," said the Lord.</p> + +<p>"You were saying—horses."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you do better with them than with cards."</p> + +<p>"If I didn't I don't know where I should be, seeing what a lot pass +through my hands in the year. Any one of our fellows who has a horse +to sell thinks that I am bound to buy him. And I do buy 'em. Last May +I had forty-two hunters on my hands."</p> + +<p>"How many of them have you got now?"</p> + +<p>"Three. Three of that lot,—though a goodish many have come up since. +But what does it amount to? When I have anything that is very good, +some fellow that I like gets him from me."</p> + +<p>"After paying for him."</p> + +<p>"After paying for him! Yes; I don't mean that I make a fellow a +present. But the man who buys has a deal the best of it. Did you ever +get anything better than that spotted chestnut in your life?"</p> + +<p>"What, old Sarcinet?"</p> + +<p>"You had her for one hundred and sixty pounds. Now, if you were on +your oath, what is she worth?"</p> + +<p>"She suits me, Major, and of course I shouldn't sell her."</p> + +<p>"I rather think not. I knew what that mare was, well enough. A dealer +would have had three hundred and fifty pounds for her. I could have +got the money easily if I had taken her down into the shires, and +ridden her a day or two myself."</p> + +<p>"I gave you what you asked."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did. It isn't often that I take less than I ask. But the +fact is, about horses, I don't know whether I shouldn't do better if +I never owned an animal at all but those I want for my own use. When +I am dealing with a man I call a friend, I can't bear to make money +of him. I don't think fellows give me all the credit they should do +for sticking to them."</p> + +<p>The Major, as he said this, leaned back in his chair, put his hand up +to his moustache, and looked sadly away into the vacancy of the room, +as though he was meditating sorrowfully on the ingratitude of the +world.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's all right about Cream Cheese?" asked the Lord.</p> + +<p>"Well; it ought to be." And now the Major spoke like an oracle, +leaning forward on the table, uttering his words in a low voice, but +very plainly, so that not a syllable might be lost. "When you +remember how he ran at the Craven with 9 st. 12 lb. on him, that it +took Archbishop all he knew to beat him with only 9 st. 2 lb., and +what the lot at Chester are likely to be, I don't think that there +can be seven to one against him. I should be very glad to take it off +your hands, only the figures are a little too heavy for me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Sunflower'll be the best animal there?"</p> + +<p>"Not a doubt of it, if he's all right, and if his temper will stand. +Think what a course Chester is for an ill-conditioned brute like +that! And then he's the most uncertain horse in training. There are +times he won't feed. From what I hear, I shouldn't wonder if he don't +turn up at all."</p> + +<p>"Solomon says he's all right."</p> + +<p>"You won't get Solomon to take four to one against him, nor yet four +and a half. I suppose you'll go down, my Lord?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; if there's nothing else doing just then. I don't know how +it may be about this electioneering business. I shall go and smoke +upstairs."</p> + +<p>At the Beargarden there were,—I was going to say, two smoking-rooms; +but in truth the house was a smoking-room all over. It was, however, +the custom of those who habitually played cards, to have their cigars +and coffee upstairs. Into this sanctum Major Tifto had not yet been +introduced, but now he was taken there under Lord Silverbridge's +wing. There were already four or five assembled, among whom was Mr. +Adolphus Longstaff, a young man of about thirty-five years of age, +who spent very much of his time at the Beargarden. "Do you know my +friend Tifto?" said the Lord. "Tifto, this is Mr. Longstaff, whom men +within the walls of this asylum sometimes call Dolly." Whereupon the +Major bowed and smiled graciously.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of Major Tifto," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Who has not?" said Lord Nidderdale, another middle-aged young man, +who made one of the company. Again the Major bowed.</p> + +<p>"Last season I was always intending to get down to your country and +have a day with the Tiftoes," said Dolly. "Don't they call your +hounds the Tiftoes?"</p> + +<p>"They shall be called so if you like," said the Major. "And why +didn't you come?"</p> + +<p>"It always was such a grind."</p> + +<p>"Train down from Paddington every day at half-past ten."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well if you happen to be up. Well, Silverbridge, +how's the Prime Minister?"</p> + +<p>"How is he, Tifto?" asked the noble partner.</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's a man in England just at present enjoying a +very much better state of health," said the Major pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Safe to run?" asked Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Safe to run! Why shouldn't he be safe to run?"</p> + +<p>"I mean sure to start."</p> + +<p>"I think we mean him to start, don't we, Silverbridge?" said the +Major.</p> + +<p>There was something perhaps in the tone in which the last remark was +made which jarred a little against the young lord's dignity. At any +rate he got up and declared his purpose of going to the opera. He +should look in, he said, and hear a song from Mdlle Stuffa. Mdlle +Stuffa was the nightingale of the season, and Lord Silverbridge, when +he had nothing else to do, would sometimes think that he was fond of +music. Soon after he was gone Major Tifto had some whisky-and-water, +lit his third cigar, and began to feel the glory of belonging to the +Beargarden. With Lord Silverbridge, to whom it was essentially +necessary that he should make himself agreeable at all times, he was +somewhat overweighted as it were. Though he attempted an easy +familiarity, he was a little afraid of Lord Silverbridge. With Dolly +Longstaff he felt that he might be comfortable,—not, perhaps, +understanding that gentleman's character. With Lord Nidderdale he had +previously been acquainted, and had found him to be good-natured. So, +as he sipped his whisky, he became confidential and comfortable.</p> + +<p>"I never thought so much about her good looks," he said. They were +talking of the singer, the charms of whose voice had carried Lord +Silverbridge away.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see her off the stage?" asked Nidderdale.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear yes."</p> + +<p>"She does not go about very much, I fancy," said someone.</p> + +<p>"I dare say not," said Tifto. "But she and I have had a day or two +together, for all that."</p> + +<p>"You must have been very much favoured," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"We've been pals ever since she has been over here," said Tifto, with +an enormous lie.</p> + +<p>"How do you get on with her husband?" asked Dolly,—in the simplest +voice, as though not in the least surprised at his companion's +statement.</p> + +<p>"Husband!" exclaimed the Major; who was not possessed of sufficient +presence of mind to suppress all signs of his ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Dolly; "you are not probably aware that your pal has been +married to Mr. Thomas Jones for the last year and a half." Soon after +that Major Tifto left the club,—with considerably enhanced respect +for Mr. Longstaff.</p> + + +<p><a name="c7" id="c7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> +<h3>Conservative Convictions<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Silverbridge had engaged himself to be with his father the next +morning at half-past nine, and he entered the breakfast-room a very +few minutes after that hour. He had made up his mind as to what he +would say to his father. He meant to call himself a Conservative, and +to go into the House of Commons under that denomination. All the men +among whom he lived were Conservatives. It was a matter on which, as +he thought, his father could have no right to control him. Down in +Barsetshire, as well as up in London, there was some little +difference of opinion in this matter. The people of Silverbridge +declared that they would prefer to have a Conservative member, as +indeed they had one for the last Session. They had loyally returned +the Duke himself while he was a commoner, but they had returned him +as being part and parcel of the Omnium appendages. That was all over +now. As a constituency they were not endowed with advanced views, and +thought that a Conservative would suit them best. That being so, and +as they had been told that the Duke's son was a Conservative, they +fancied that by electing him they would be pleasing everybody. But, +in truth, by so doing they would by no means please the Duke. He had +told them on previous occasions that they might elect whom they +pleased, and felt no anger because they had elected a Conservative. +They might send up to Parliament the most antediluvian old Tory they +could find in England if they wished, only not his son, not a +Palliser as a Tory or Conservative. And then, though the little town +had gone back in the ways of the world, the county, or the Duke's +division of the county, had made so much progress, that a Liberal +candidate recommended by him would almost certainly be returned. It +was just the occasion on which a Palliser should show himself ready +to serve his country. There would be an expense, but he would think +nothing of expense in such a matter. Ten thousand pounds spent on +such an object would not vex him. The very contest would have given +him new life. All this Lord Silverbridge understood, but had said to +himself and to all his friends that it was a matter in which he did +not intend to be controlled.</p> + +<p>The Duke had passed a very unhappy night. He had told himself that +any such marriage as that spoken of was out of the question. He +believed that the matter might be so represented to his girl as to +make her feel that it was out of the question. He hardly doubted but +that he could stamp it out. Though he should have to take her away +into some further corner of the world, he would stamp it out. But +she, when this foolish passion of hers should have been thus stamped +out, could never be the pure, the bright, the unsullied, unsoiled +thing, of the possession of which he had thought so much. He had +never spoken of his hopes about her even to his wife, but in the +silence of his very silent life he had thought much of the day when +he would give her to some noble youth,—noble with all gifts of +nobility, including rank and wealth,—who might be fit to receive +her. Now, even though no one else should know it,—and all would know +it,—she would be the girl who had condescended to love young +Tregear.</p> + +<p>His own Duchess, she whose loss to him now was as though he had lost +half his limbs,—had not she in the same way loved a Tregear, or +worse than a Tregear, in her early days? Ah yes! And though his Cora +had been so much to him, had he not often felt, had he not been +feeling all his days, that Fate had robbed him of the sweetest joy +that is given to man, in that she had not come to him loving him with +her early spring of love, as she had loved that poor ne'er-do-well? +How infinite had been his regrets. How often had he told himself +that, with all that Fortune had given him, still Fortune had been +unjust to him because he had been robbed of that. Not to save his +life could he have whispered a word of this to any one, but he had +felt it. He had felt it for years. Dear as she had been, she had not +been quite what she should have been but for that. And now this girl +of his, who was so much dearer to him than anything else left to him, +was doing exactly as her mother had done. The young man might be +stamped out. He might be made to vanish as that other young man had +vanished. But the fact that he had been there, cherished in the +girl's heart,—that could not be stamped out.</p> + +<p>He struggled gallantly to acquit the memory of his wife. He could +best do that by leaning with the full weight of his mind on the +presumed iniquity of Mrs. Finn. Had he not known from the first that +the woman was an adventuress? And had he not declared to himself over +and over again that between such a one and himself there should be no +intercourse, no common feeling? He had allowed himself to be talked +into an intimacy, to be talked almost into an affection. And this was +the result!</p> + +<p>And how should he treat this matter in his coming interview with his +son;—or should he make an allusion to it? At first it seemed as +though it would be impossible for him to give his mind to that other +subject. How could he enforce the merits of political Liberalism, and +the duty of adhering to the old family party, while his mind was +entirely preoccupied with his daughter? It had suddenly become almost +indifferent to him whether Silverbridge should be a Conservative or a +Liberal. But as he dressed he told himself that, as a man, he ought +to be able to do a plain duty, marked out for him as this had been by +his own judgment, without regard to personal suffering. The hedger +and ditcher must make his hedge and clean his ditch even though he be +tormented by rheumatism. His duty by his son he must do, even though +his heart were torn to pieces.</p> + +<p>During breakfast he tried to be gracious, and condescended to ask his +son a question about Prime Minister. Racing was an amusement to which +English noblemen had been addicted for many ages, and had been held +to be serviceable rather than disgraceful, if conducted in a noble +fashion. He did not credit Tifto with much nobility. He knew but +little about the Major. He would much have preferred that his son +should have owned a horse alone, if he must have anything to do with +ownership. "Would it not be better to buy the other share?" asked the +Duke.</p> + +<p>"It would take a deal of money, sir. The Major would ask a couple of +thousand, I should think."</p> + +<p>"That is a great deal."</p> + +<p>"And then the Major is a very useful man. He thoroughly understands +the turf."</p> + +<p>"I hope he doesn't live by it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; he doesn't live by it. That is, he has a great many irons in +the fire."</p> + +<p>"I do not mind a young man owning a horse, if he can afford the +expense,—as you perhaps can do; but I hope you don't bet."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to speak of."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to speak of is so apt to grow into that which has to be +spoken of." So much the father said at breakfast, hardly giving his +mind to the matter discussed,—his mind being on other things. But +when their breakfast was eaten, then it was necessary that he should +begin. "Silverbridge," he said, "I hope you have thought better of +what we were talking about as to these coming elections."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir;—of course I have thought about it."</p> + +<p>"And you can do as I would have you?"</p> + +<p>"You see, sir, a man's political opinion is a kind of thing he can't +get rid of."</p> + +<p>"You can hardly as yet have any very confirmed political opinion. You +are still young, and I do not suppose that you have thought much +about politics."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir; I think I have. I've got my own ideas. We've got to +protect our position as well as we can against the Radicals and +Communists."</p> + +<p>"I cannot admit that at all, Silverbridge. There is no great +political party in this country anxious either for Communism or for +revolution. But, putting all that aside for the present, do you think +that a man's political opinions should be held in regard to his own +individual interests, or to the much wider interests of others, whom +we call the public?"</p> + +<p>"To his own interest," said the young man with decision.</p> + +<p>"It is simply self-protection then?"</p> + +<p>"His own and his class. The people will look after themselves, and we +must look after ourselves. We are so few and they are so many, that +we shall have quite enough to do."</p> + +<p>Then the Duke gave his son a somewhat lengthy political lecture, +which was intended to teach him that the greatest benefit of the +greatest number was the object to which all political studies should +tend. The son listened to it with attention, and when it was over, +expressed his opinion that there was a great deal in what his father +had said. "I trust, if you will consider it," said the Duke, "that +you will not find yourself obliged to desert the school of politics +in which your father has not been an inactive supporter, and to which +your family has belonged for many generations."</p> + +<p>"I could not call myself a Liberal," said the young politician.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am a Conservative."</p> + +<p>"And you won't stand for the county on the Liberal interest?"</p> + +<p>"I should be obliged to tell them that I should always give a +Conservative vote."</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse to do what I ask?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know how I can help refusing. If you wanted me to grow a +couple of inches taller I couldn't do it, even though I should be +ever so anxious to oblige you."</p> + +<p>"But a very young man, as you are, may have so much deference for his +elders as to be induced to believe that he has been in error."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; of course."</p> + +<p>"You cannot but be aware that the political condition of the country +is the one subject to which I have devoted the labour of my life."</p> + +<p>"I know that very well; and, of course, I know how much they all +think of you."</p> + +<p>"Then my opinion might go for something with you?"</p> + +<p>"So it does, sir; I shouldn't have doubted at all only for that +little. Still, you see, as the thing is,—how am I to help myself?"</p> + +<p>"You believe that you must be right,—you, who have never given an +hour's study to the subject!"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. In comparison with a great many men, I know that I am a +fool. Perhaps it is because I know that, that I am a Conservative. +The Radicals are always saying that a Conservative must be a fool. +Then a fool ought to be a Conservative."</p> + +<p>Hereupon the father got up from his chair and turned round, facing +the fire, with his back to his son. He was becoming very angry, but +endeavoured to restrain his anger. The matter in dispute between them +was of so great importance, that he could hardly be justified in +abandoning it in consequence of arguments so trifling in themselves +as these which his son adduced. As he stood there for some minutes +thinking of it all, he was tempted again and again to burst out in +wrath and threaten the lad,—to threaten him as to money, as to his +amusements, as to the general tenure of his life. The pity was so +great that the lad should be so stubborn and so foolish! He would +never ask his son to be a slave to the Liberal party, as he had been. +But that a Palliser should not be a Liberal,—and his son, as the +first recreant Palliser,—was wormwood to him! As he stood there he +more than once clenched his fist in eager desire to turn upon the +young man; but he restrained himself, telling himself that in justice +he should not be angry for such offence as this. To become a +Conservative, when the path to Liberalism was so fairly open, might +be the part of a fool, but could not fairly be imputed as a crime. To +endeavour to be just was the study of his life, and in no condition +of life can justice be more imperatively due than from a father to +his son.</p> + +<p>"You mean to stand for Silverbridge?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Not if you object, sir."</p> + +<p>This made it worse. It became now still more difficult for him to +scold the young man.</p> + +<p>"You are aware that I should not meddle in any way."</p> + +<p>"That was what I supposed. They will return a Conservative at any +rate."</p> + +<p>"It is not that I care about," said the Duke sadly.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, sir, I am very sorry to vex you; but what would you +have me do? I will give up Parliament altogether, if you say that you +wish it."</p> + +<p>"No; I do not wish that."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have me tell a lie?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What can I do then?"</p> + +<p>"Learn what there is to learn from some master fit to teach you."</p> + +<p>"There are so many masters."</p> + +<p>"I believe it to be that most arrogant ill-behaved young man who was +with me yesterday who has done this evil."</p> + +<p>"You mean Frank Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"I do mean Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>"He's a Conservative, of course; and of course he and I have been +much together. Was he with you yesterday, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was."</p> + +<p>"What was that about?" asked Lord Silverbridge, in a voice that +almost betrayed fear, for he knew very well what cause had produced +the interview.</p> + +<p>"He has been speaking to me—" When the Duke had got so far as this +he paused, finding himself to be hardly able to declare the disgrace +which had fallen upon himself and his family. As he did tell the +story, both his face and his voice were altered, so that the son, in +truth, was scared. "He has been speaking to me about your sister. Did +you know of this?"</p> + +<p>"I knew there was something between them."</p> + +<p>"And you encouraged it?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; just the contrary. I have told him that I was quite sure it +would never do."</p> + +<p>"And why did you not tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir; that was hardly my business, was it?"</p> + +<p>"Not to guard the honour of your sister?"</p> + +<p>"You see, sir, how many things have happened all at once."</p> + +<p>"What things?"</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, sir, thought well of him." The Duke uttered a deep +sigh and turned again round to the fire. "I always told him that you +would never consent."</p> + +<p>"I should think not."</p> + +<p>"It has come so suddenly. I should have spoken to you about it as +soon as—as soon as—" He had meant to say as soon as the husband's +grief for the loss of his wife had been in some degree appeased, but +he could not speak the words. The Duke, however, perfectly understood +him. "In the meantime, they were not seeing each other."</p> + +<p>"Nor writing?"</p> + +<p>"I think not."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Finn has known it all."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Finn!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. She has known it all through."</p> + +<p>"I do not see how it can have been so."</p> + +<p>"He told me so himself," said the Duke, unwittingly putting words +into Tregear's mouth which Tregear had never uttered. "There must be +an end of this. I will speak to your sister. In the meantime, the +less, I think, you see of Mr. Tregear the better. Of course it is out +of the question he should be allowed to remain in this house. You +will make him understand that at once, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Silverbridge.</p> + + +<p><a name="c8" id="c8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> +<h3>"He Is a Gentleman"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The Duke returned to Matching an almost broken-hearted man. He had +intended to go down into Barsetshire, in reference to the coming +elections;—not with the view of interfering in any unlordly, or +rather unpeerlike fashion, but thinking that if his eldest son were +to stand for the county in a proper constitutional spirit, as the +eldest son of so great a county magnate ought to do, his presence at +Gatherum Castle, among his own people, might probably be serviceable, +and would certainly be gracious. There would be no question of +entertainment. His bereavement would make that impossible. But there +would come from his presence a certain savour of proprietorship, and +a sense of power, which would be beneficial to his son, and would +not, as the Duke thought, be contrary to the spirit of the +constitution. But all this was now at an end. He told himself that he +did not care how the elections might go;—that he did not care much +how anything might go. Silverbridge might stand for Silverbridge if +he so pleased. He would give neither assistance nor obstruction, +either in the county or in the borough. He wrote to this effect to +his agent, Mr. Morton;—but at the same time desired that gentleman +to pay Lord Silverbridge's electioneering expenses, feeling it to be +his duty as a father to do so much for his son.</p> + +<p>But though he endeavoured to engage his thoughts in these +parliamentary matters, though he tried to make himself believe that +this political apostasy was the trouble which vexed him, in truth +that other misery was so crushing, as to make the affairs of his son +insignificant. How should he express himself to her? That was the +thought present to his mind as he went down to Matching. Should he +content himself with simply telling her that such a wish on her part +was disgraceful, and that it could never be fulfilled; or should he +argue the matter with her, endeavouring as he did so to persuade her +gently that she was wrong to place her affections so low, and so to +obtain from her an assurance that the idea should be abandoned?</p> + +<p>The latter course would be infinitely the better,—if only he could +accomplish it. But he was conscious of his own hardness of manner, +and was aware that he had never succeeded in establishing confidence +between himself and his daughter. It was a thing for which he had +longed,—as a plain girl might long to possess the charms of an +acknowledged beauty;—as a poor little fellow, five feet in height, +might long to have a cubit added to his stature.</p> + +<p>Though he was angry with her, how willingly would he take her into +his arms and assure her of his forgiveness! How anxious he would be +to make her understand that nothing should be spared by him to add +beauty and grace to her life! Only, as a matter of course, Mr. +Tregear must be abandoned. But he knew of himself that he would not +know how to begin to be tender and forgiving. He knew that he would +not know how not to be stern and hard.</p> + +<p>But he must find out the history of it all. No doubt the man had been +his son's friend, and had joined his party in Italy at his son's +instance. But yet he had come to entertain an idea that Mrs. Finn had +been the great promoter of the sin, and he thought that Tregear had +told him that that lady had been concerned with the matter from the +beginning. In all this there was a craving in his heart to lessen the +amount of culpable responsibility which might seem to attach itself +to the wife he had lost.</p> + +<p>He reached Matching about eight, and ordered his dinner to be brought +to him in his own study. When Lady Mary came to welcome him, he +kissed her forehead and bade her come to him after his dinner. "Shall +I not sit with you, papa, whilst you are eating it?" she asked; but +he merely told her that he would not trouble her to do that. Even in +saying this he was so unusually tender to her that she assured +herself that her lover had not as yet told his tale.</p> + +<p>The Duke's meals were not generally feasts for a Lucullus. No man +living, perhaps, cared less what he ate, or knew less what he drank. +In such matters he took what was provided for him, making his dinner +off the first bit of meat that was brought, and simply ignoring +anything offered to him afterwards. And he would drink what wine the +servant gave him, mixing it, whatever it might be, with seltzer +water. He had never been much given to the pleasures of the table; +but this habit of simplicity had grown on him of late, till the +Duchess used to tell him that his wants were so few that it was a +pity he was not a hermit, vowed to poverty.</p> + +<p>Very shortly a message was brought to Lady Mary, saying that her +father wished to see her. She went at once, and found him seated on a +sofa, which stood close along the bookshelves on one side of the +room. The table had already been cleared, and he was alone. He not +only was alone, but had not even a pamphlet or newspaper in his hand.</p> + +<p>Then she knew that Tregear must have told the story. As this occurred +to her, her legs almost gave way under her. "Come and sit down, +Mary," he said, pointing to the seat on the sofa beside himself.</p> + +<p>She sat down and took one of his hands within her own. Then, as he +did not begin at once, she asked a question. "Will Silverbridge stand +for the county, papa?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But for the town?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And he won't be a Liberal?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not. It is a cause of great unhappiness to me; but I do +not know that I should be justified in any absolute opposition. A man +is entitled to his own opinion, even though he be a very young man."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry that it should be so, papa, because it vexes you."</p> + +<p>"I have many things to vex me;—things to break my heart."</p> + +<p>"Poor mamma!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that above all others. But life and death are in God's hands, +and even though we may complain we can alter nothing. But whatever +our sorrows are while we are here, we must do our duty."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he may be a good Member of Parliament, though he has +turned Conservative."</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking about your brother. I am thinking about you." The +poor girl gave a little start on the sofa. "Do you know—Mr. +Tregear?" he added.</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa; of course I know him. You used to see him in Italy."</p> + +<p>"I believe I did; I understand that he was there as a friend of +Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"His most intimate friend, papa."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. He came to me, in London yesterday, and told me—! Oh +Mary, can it be true?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa," she said, covered up to her forehead with blushes, and +with her eyes turned down. In the ordinary affairs of life she was a +girl of great courage, who was not given to be shaken from her +constancy by the pressure of any present difficulty; but now the +terror inspired by her father's voice almost overpowered her.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that you have engaged yourself to that young +man without my approval?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you were to have been asked, papa."</p> + +<p>"Is that in accordance with your idea of what should be the conduct +of a young lady in your position?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody meant to conceal anything from you, papa."</p> + +<p>"It has been so far concealed. And yet this young man has the +self-confidence to come to me and to demand your hand as though it +were a matter of course that I should accede to so trivial a request. +It is, as a matter of course, quite impossible. You understand that; +do you not?" When she did not answer him at once, he repeated the +question. "I ask you whether you do not feel that it is altogether +impossible?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa," she said, in the lowest possible whisper, but still in +such a whisper that he could hear the word, and with so much +clearness that he could judge from her voice of the obstinacy of her +mind.</p> + +<p>"Then, Mary, it becomes my duty to tell you that it is quite +impossible. I will not have it thought of. There must be an end of +it."</p> + +<p>"Why, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Why! I am astonished that you should ask me why."</p> + +<p>"I should not have allowed him, papa, to go to you unless I +had,—unless I had loved him."</p> + +<p>"Then you must conquer your love. It is disgraceful and must be +conquered."</p> + +<p>"Disgraceful!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am sorry to use such a word to my own child, but it is so. If +you will promise to be guided by me in this matter, if you will +undertake not to see him any more, I will,—if not forget it,—at any +rate pardon it, and be silent. I will excuse it because you were +young, and were thrown imprudently in his way. There has, I believe, +been someone at work in the matter with whom I ought to be more angry +than with you. Say that you will obey me, and there is nothing within +a father's power that I will not do for you, to make your life +happy." It was thus that he strove not to be stern. His heart, +indeed, was tender enough, but there was nothing tender in the tone +of his voice or in the glance of his eye. Though he was very positive +in what he said, yet he was shy and shamefaced even with his own +daughter. He, too, had blushed when he told her that she must conquer +her love.</p> + +<p>That she should be told that she had disgraced herself was terrible +to her. That her father should speak of her marriage with this man as +an event that was impossible made her very unhappy. That he should +talk of pardoning her, as for some great fault, was in itself a +misery. But she had not on that account the least idea of giving up +her lover. Young as she was, she had her own peculiar theory on that +matter, her own code of conduct and honour, from which she did not +mean to be driven. Of course she had not expected that her father +would yield at the first word. He, no doubt, would wish that she +should make a more exalted marriage. She had known that she would +have to encounter opposition, though she had not expected to be told +that she had disgraced herself. As she sat there she resolved that +under no pretence would she give up her lover;—but she was so far +abashed that she could not find words to express herself. He, too, +had been silent for a few moments before he again asked her for her +promise.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me, Mary, that you will not see him again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think that I can say that, papa."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh papa, how can I, when of all the people in the world I love him +the best?"</p> + +<p>It is not without a pang that any one can be told that she who is of +all the dearest has some other one who to her is the dearest. Such +pain fathers and mothers have to bear; and though, I think, the arrow +is never so blunted but that it leaves something of a wound behind, +there is in most cases, if not a perfect salve, still an ample +consolation. The mother knows that it is good that her child should +love some man better than all the world beside, and that she should +be taken away to become a wife and a mother. And the father, when +that delight of his eyes ceases to assure him that he is her nearest +and dearest, though he abandon the treasure of that nearestness and +dearestness with a soft melancholy, still knows that it is as it +should be. Of course that other "him" is the person she loves the +best in the world. Were it not so how evil a thing it would be that +she should marry him! Were it not so with reference to some "him", +how void would her life be! But now, to the poor Duke the wound had +no salve, no consolation. When he was told that this young Tregear +was the owner of his girl's sweet love, was the treasure of her +heart, he shrank as though arrows with sharp points were pricking him +all over. "I will not hear of such love," he said.</p> + +<p>"What am I to say, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Say that you will obey me."</p> + +<p>Then she sat silent. "Do you not know that he is not fit to be your +husband?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa."</p> + +<p>"Then you cannot have thought much either of your position or of +mine."</p> + +<p>"He is a gentleman, papa."</p> + +<p>"So is my private secretary. There is not a clerk in one of our +public offices who does not consider himself to be a gentleman. The +curate of the parish is a gentleman, and the medical man who comes +here from Bradstock. The word is too vague to carry with it any +meaning that ought to be serviceable to you in thinking of such a +matter."</p> + +<p>"I do not know any other way of dividing people," said she, showing +thereby that she had altogether made up her mind as to what ought to +be serviceable to her.</p> + +<p>"You are not called upon to divide people. That division requires so +much experience that you are bound in this matter to rely upon those +to whom your obedience is due. I cannot but think you must have known +that you were not entitled to give your love to any man without being +assured that the man would be approved of by—by—by me." He was +going to say, "your parents," but was stopped by the remembrance of +his wife's imprudence.</p> + +<p>She saw it all, and was too noble to plead her mother's</p> +<p>authority. But she was not too dutiful to cast a reproach upon him, +when he was so stern to her. "You have been so little with me, papa."</p> + +<p>"That is true," he said, after a pause. "That is true. It has been a +fault, and I will mend it. It is a reason for forgiveness, and I will +forgive you. But you must tell me that there shall be an end to +this."</p> + +<p>"No, papa."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"That as I love Mr. Tregear, and as I have told him so, and as I have +promised him, I will be true to him. I cannot let there be an end to +it."</p> + +<p>"You do not suppose that you will be allowed to see him again?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly not. Do you write to him?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa."</p> + +<p>"Never?"</p> + +<p>"Never since we have been back in England."</p> + +<p>"You must promise me that you will not write."</p> + +<p>She paused a moment before she answered him, and now she was looking +him full in the face. "I shall not write to him. I do not think I +shall write to him; but I will not promise."</p> + +<p>"Not promise me,—your father!"</p> + +<p>"No, papa. It might be that—that I should do it."</p> + +<p>"You would not wish me so to guard you that you should have no power +of sending a letter but by permission?"</p> + +<p>"I should not like that."</p> + +<p>"But it will have to be so."</p> + +<p>"If I do write I will tell you."</p> + +<p>"And show me what you write?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa; not that; but I will tell you what I have written."</p> + +<p>Then it occurred to him that this bargaining was altogether +derogatory to his parental authority, and by no means likely to +impress upon her mind the conviction that Tregear must be completely +banished from her thoughts. He began already to find how difficult it +would be for him to have the charge of such a daughter,—how +impossible that he should conduct such a charge with sufficient +firmness, and yet with sufficient tenderness! At present he had done +no good. He had only been made more wretched than ever by her +obstinacy. Surely he must pass her over to the charge of some +lady,—but of some lady who would be as determined as was he himself +that she should not throw herself away by marrying Mr. Tregear.</p> + +<p>"There shall be no writing," he said, "no visiting, no communication +of any kind. As you refuse to obey me now, you had better go to your +room."</p> + + +<p><a name="c9" id="c9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> +<h3>"In Medias Res"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Perhaps the method of rushing at once "in medias res" is, of all the +ways of beginning a story, or a separate branch of a story, the least +objectionable. The reader is made to think that the gold lies so near +the surface that he will be required to take very little trouble in +digging for it. And the writer is enabled,—at any rate for a time, +and till his neck has become, as it were, warm to the collar,—to +throw off from him the difficulties and dangers, the tedium and +prolixity, of description. This rushing "in medias res" has doubtless +the charm of ease. "Certainly, when I threw her from the garret +window to the stony pavement below, I did not anticipate that she +would fall so far without injury to life or limb." When a story has +been begun after this fashion, without any prelude, without +description of the garret or of the pavement, or of the lady thrown, +or of the speaker, a great amount of trouble seems to have been +saved. The mind of the reader fills up the blanks,—if erroneously, +still satisfactorily. He knows, at least, that the heroine has +encountered a terrible danger, and has escaped from it with almost +incredible good fortune; that the demon of the piece is a bold demon, +not ashamed to speak of his own iniquity, and that the heroine and +the demon are so far united that they have been in a garret together. +But there is the drawback on the system,—that it is almost +impossible to avoid the necessity of doing, sooner or later, that +which would naturally be done at first. It answers, perhaps, for +half-a-dozen chapters;—and to carry the reader pleasantly for +half-a-dozen chapters is a great matter!—but after that a certain +nebulous darkness gradually seems to envelope the characters and the +incidents. "Is all this going on in the country, or is it in +town,—or perhaps in the Colonies? How old was she? Was she tall? Is +she fair? Is she heroine-like in her form and gait? And, after all, +how high was the garret window?" I have always found that the details +would insist on being told at last, and that by rushing "in medias +res" I was simply presenting the cart before the horse. But as +readers like the cart the best, I will do it once again,—trying it +only for a branch of my story,—and will endeavour to let as little +as possible of the horse be seen afterwards.</p> + +<p>"And so poor Frank has been turned out of heaven?" said Lady Mabel +Grex to young Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Who told you that? I have said nothing about it to anybody."</p> + +<p>"Of course he told me himself," said the young beauty. I am aware +that, in the word beauty, and perhaps, also, in the word young, a +little bit of the horse is appearing; and I am already sure that I +shall have to show his head and neck, even if not his very tail. +"Poor Frank! Did you hear it all?"</p> + +<p>"I heard nothing, Lady Mab, and know nothing."</p> + +<p>"You know that your awful governor won't let him stay any longer in +Carlton Terrace?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Would Lord Grex allow Percival to have his friends living here?" +Earl Grex was Lady Mabel's father, Lord Percival was the Earl's +son;—and the Earl lived in Belgrave Square. All these are little +bits of the horse.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. In the first place, I am here."</p> + +<p>"That makes a difference, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Of course it makes a difference. They would be wanting to make love +to me."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. I should, I know."</p> + +<p>"And therefore it wouldn't do for you to live here; and then papa is +living here himself. And then the permission never has been given. I +suppose Frank did not go there at first without the Duke knowing it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay that I had mentioned it."</p> + +<p>"You might as well tell me all about it. We are cousins, you know." +Frank Tregear, through his mother's family, was second cousin to Lady +Mabel; as was also Lord Silverbridge, one of the Grexes having, at +some remote period, married a Palliser. This is another bit of the +horse.</p> + +<p>"The governor merely seemed to think that he would like to have his +own house to himself—like other people. What an ass Tregear was to +say anything to you about it."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he was an ass at all. Of course he had to tell us that +he was changing his residence. He says that he is going to take a +back bedroom somewhere near the Seven Dials."</p> + +<p>"He has got very nice rooms in Duke Street."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him, then?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I have."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! I wish he had a little money; he is so nice. And now, +Lord Silverbridge, do you mean to say that there is not something in +the wind about Lady Mary?"</p> + +<p>"If there were I should not talk about it," said Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"You are a very innocent young gentleman."</p> + +<p>"And you are a very interesting young lady."</p> + +<p>"You ought to think me so, for I interest myself very much about you. +Was the Duke very angry about your not standing for the county?"</p> + +<p>"He was vexed."</p> + +<p>"I do think it is so odd that a man should be expected to be this or +that in politics because his father happened to be so before him! I +don't understand how he should expect that you should remain with a +party so utterly snobbish and down in the world as the Radicals. +Everybody that is worth anything is leaving them."</p> + +<p>"He has not left them."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't suppose he could; but you have."</p> + +<p>"I never belonged to them, Lady Mab."</p> + +<p>"And never will, I hope. I always told papa that you would certainly +be one of us." All this took place in the drawing-room of Lord Grex's +house. There was no Lady Grex alive, but there lived with the Earl a +certain elderly lady, reported to be in some distant way a cousin of +the family, named Miss Cassewary, who, in the matter of looking after +Lady Mab, did what was supposed to be absolutely necessary. She now +entered the room with her bonnet on, having just returned from +church. "What was the text?" asked Lady Mab at once.</p> + +<p>"If you had gone to church, as you ought to have done, my dear, you +would have heard it."</p> + +<p>"But as I didn't?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think the text alone will do you any good."</p> + +<p>"And probably you forget it."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't, my dear. How do you do, Lord Silverbridge?"</p> + +<p>"He is a Conservative, Miss Cass."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is. I am quite sure that a young nobleman of so much +taste and intellect would take the better side."</p> + +<p>"You forget that all you are saying is against my father and my +family, Miss Cassewary."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it was different when your father was a young man. And +your father, too, was, not very long since, at the head of a +government which contained many Conservatives. I don't look upon your +father as a Radical, though perhaps I should not be justified in +calling him a Conservative."</p> + +<p>"Well; certainly not, I think."</p> + +<p>"But now it is necessary that all noblemen in England should rally to +the defence of their order." Miss Cassewary was a great politician, +and was one of those who are always foreseeing the ruin of their +country. "My dear, I will go and take my bonnet off. Perhaps you will +have tea when I come down."</p> + +<p>"Don't you go," said Lady Mabel, when Silverbridge got up to take his +departure.</p> + +<p>"I always do when tea comes."</p> + +<p>"But you are going to dine here?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of. In the first place, nobody has asked me. In the +second place, I am engaged. Thirdly, I don't care about having to +talk politics to Miss Cass; and fourthly, I hate family dinners on +Sunday."</p> + +<p>"In the first place, I ask you. Secondly, I know you were going to +dine with Frank Tregear, at the club. Thirdly, I want you to talk to +me, and not to Miss Cass. And fourthly, you are an uncivil +young—young,—young,—I should say cub if I dared, to tell me that +you don't like dining with me any day of the week."</p> + +<p>"Of course you know what I mean is, that I don't like troubling your +father."</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me. I shall tell him you are coming, and Frank too. Of +course you can bring him. Then he can talk to me when papa goes down +to his club, and you can arrange your politics with Miss Cass." So it +was settled, and at eight o'clock Lord Silverbridge reappeared in +Belgrave Square with Frank Tregear.</p> + +<p>Earl Grex was a nobleman of very ancient family, the Grexes having +held the parish of Grex, in Yorkshire, from some time long prior to +the Conquest. In saying all this, I am, I know, allowing the horse to +appear wholesale;—but I find that he cannot be kept out. I may as +well go on to say that the present Earl was better known at Newmarket +and the Beaufort,—where he spent a large part of his life in playing +whist,—than in the House of Lords. He was a grey-haired, handsome, +worn-out old man, who through a long life of pleasure had greatly +impaired a fortune which, for an earl, had never been magnificent, +and who now strove hard, but not always successfully, to remedy that +evil by gambling. As he could no longer eat and drink as he had used +to do, and as he cared no longer for the light that lies in a lady's +eye, there was not much left to him in the world but cards and +racing. Nevertheless he was a handsome old man, of polished manners, +when he chose to use them; a staunch Conservative and much regarded +by his party, for whom in his early life he had done some work in the +House of Commons.</p> + +<p>"Silverbridge is all very well," he had said; "but I don't see why +that young Tregear is to dine here every night of his life."</p> + +<p>"This is the second time since he has been up in town, papa."</p> + +<p>"He was here last week, I know."</p> + +<p>"Silverbridge wouldn't come without him."</p> + +<p>"That's <span class="nowrap">d––––</span> +nonsense," said the Earl. Miss Cassewary gave a +start,—not, we may presume, because she was shocked, for she could +not be much shocked, having heard the same word from the same lips +very often; but she thought it right always to enter a protest. Then +the two young men were announced.</p> + +<p>Frank Tregear, having been known by the family as a boy, was Frank to +all of them,—as was Lady Mabel, Mabel to him, somewhat to the +disgust of the father and not altogether with the approbation of Miss +Cass. But Lady Mabel had declared that she would not be guilty of the +folly of changing old habits. Silverbridge, being Silverbridge to all +his own people, hardly seemed to have a Christian name;—his +godfathers and godmothers had indeed called him Plantagenet;—but +having only become acquainted with the family since his Oxford days +he was Lord Silverbridge to Lady Mabel. Lady Mabel had not as yet +become Mabel to him, but, as by her very intimate friends she was +called Mab, had allowed herself to be addressed by him as Lady Mab. +There was thus between them all considerable intimacy.</p> + +<p>"I'm deuced glad to hear it," said the Earl when dinner was +announced. For, though he could not eat much, Lord Grex was always +impatient when the time of eating was at hand. Then he walked down +alone. Lord Silverbridge followed with his daughter, and Frank +Tregear gave his arm to Miss Cassewary. "If that woman can't clear +her soup better than that, she might as well go to the +<span class="nowrap">d––––,"</span> said +the Earl;—upon which remark no one in the company made any +observation. As there were two men-servants in the room when it was +made the cook probably had the advantage of it. It may be almost +unnecessary to add that though the Earl had polished manners for +certain occasions he would sometimes throw them off in the bosom of +his own family.</p> + +<p>"My Lord," said Miss Cassewary—she always called him "My +Lord"—"Lord Silverbridge is going to stand for the Duke's borough in +the Conservative interest."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know the Duke had a borough," said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"He had one till he thought it proper to give it up," said the son, +taking his father's part.</p> + +<p>"And you are going to pay him off for what he has done by standing +against him. It's just the sort of thing for a son to do in these +days. If I had a borough Percival would go down and make radical +speeches there."</p> + +<p>"There isn't a better Conservative in England than Percival," said +Lady Mabel, bridling up.</p> + +<p>"Nor a worse son," said the father. "I believe he would do anything +he could lay his hand on to oppose me." During the past week there +had been some little difference of opinion between the father and the +son as to the signing of a deed.</p> + +<p>"My father does not take it in bad part at all," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's ratting himself," said the Earl. "When a man lends +himself to a coalition he is as good as half gone."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that in all England there is so thorough a Liberal as +my father," said Lord Silverbridge. "And when I say that he doesn't +take this badly, I don't mean that it doesn't vex him. I know it +vexes him. But he doesn't quarrel with me. He even wrote down to +Barsetshire to say that all my expenses at Silverbridge were to be +paid."</p> + +<p>"I call that very bad politics," said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me to be very grand," said Frank.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sir, you don't know what is good or what is bad in +politics," said the Earl, trying to snub his guest.</p> + +<p>But it was difficult to snub Frank. "I know a gentleman when I see +him, I think," he said. "Of course Silverbridge is right to be a +Conservative. Nobody has a stronger opinion about that than I have. +But the Duke is behaving so well that if I were he I should almost +regret it."</p> + +<p>"And so I do," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>When the ladies were gone the old Earl turned himself round to the +fire, having filled his glass and pushed the bottles away from him, +as though he meant to leave the two young men to themselves. He sat +leaning with his head on his hand, looking the picture of woe. It was +now only nine o'clock, and there would be no whist at the Beaufort +till eleven. There was still more than an hour to be endured before +the brougham would come to fetch him. "I suppose we shall have a +majority," said Frank, trying to rouse him.</p> + +<p>"Who does 'We' mean?" asked the Earl.</p> + +<p>"The Conservatives, of whom I take the liberty to call myself one."</p> + +<p>"It sounded as though you were a very influential member of the +party."</p> + +<p>"I consider myself to be one of the party, and so I say 'We.'"</p> + +<p>Upstairs in the drawing-room Miss Cassewary did her duty loyally. It +was quite right that young ladies and young gentlemen should be +allowed to talk together, and very right indeed that such a young +gentleman as Lord Silverbridge should be allowed to talk to such a +young lady as Lady Mabel. What could be so nice as a marriage between +the heir of the house of Omnium and Lady Mabel Grex? Lady Mabel +looked indeed to be the elder,—but they were in truth the same age. +All the world acknowledged that Lady Mabel was very clever and very +beautiful and fit to be a Duchess. Even the Earl, when Miss Cassewary +hinted at the matter to him, grunted an assent. Lady Mabel had +already refused one or two not ineligible offers, and it was +necessary that something should be done. There had been at one time a +fear in Miss Cassewary's bosom lest her charge should fall too deeply +in love with Frank Tregear;—but Miss Cassewary knew that whatever +danger there might have been in that respect had passed away. Frank +was willing to talk to her, while Mabel and Lord Silverbridge were in +a corner together.</p> + +<p>"I shall be on tenterhooks now till I know how it is to be at +Silverbridge," said the young lady.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to feel so much interest."</p> + +<p>"Of course I feel an interest. Are not you one of us? When is it to +be?"</p> + +<p>"They say that the elections will be over before the Derby."</p> + +<p>"And which do you care for the most?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to pull off the Derby, I own."</p> + +<p>"From what papa says, I should think the other event is the more +probable."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't the Earl stand to win on Prime Minister?"</p> + +<p>"I never know anything about his betting. But,—you know his way,—he +said you were going to drop a lot of money like a— I can't quite +tell you what he likened you to."</p> + +<p>"The Earl may be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"You are not betting much, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Not plunging. But I have a little money on."</p> + +<p>"Don't get into a way of betting."</p> + +<p>"Why:—what difference does it make,—to you?"</p> + +<p>"Is that kind, Lord Silverbridge?"</p> + +<p>"I meant to say that if I did make a mess of it you wouldn't care +about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should. I should care very much. I dare say you could lose a +great deal of money and care nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I could not."</p> + +<p>"What would be a great deal of money to me. But you would want to get +it back again. And in that way you would be regularly on the turf."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"I want to see better things from you."</p> + +<p>"You ought not to preach against the turf, Lady Mab."</p> + +<p>"Because of papa? But I am not preaching against the turf. If I were +such as you are I would have a horse or two myself. A man in your +position should do a little of everything. You should hunt and have a +yacht, and stalk deer and keep your own trainer at Newmarket."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd say all that to my father."</p> + +<p>"Of course I mean if you can afford it. I like a man to like +pleasure. But I despise a man who makes a business of his pleasures. +When I hear that this man is the best whist-player in London, and +that man the best billiard-player, I always know that they can do +nothing else, and then I despise them."</p> + +<p>"You needn't despise me, because I do nothing well," said he, as he +got up to take his leave.</p> + +<p>"I do so hope you'll get the seat,—and win the Derby."</p> + +<p>These were her last words to him as she wished him good-night.</p> + + +<p><a name="c10" id="c10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> +<h3>"Why Not Like Romeo If I Feel Like Romeo?"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"That's nonsense, Miss Cass, and I shall," said Lady Mabel. They were +together, on the morning after the little dinner-party described in +the last chapter, in a small back sitting-room which was supposed to +be Lady Mabel's own, and the servant had just announced the fact that +Mr. Tregear was below.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall go down too," said Miss Cassewary.</p> + +<p>"You'll do nothing of the kind. Will you please to tell me what it is +you are afraid of? Do you think that Frank is going to make love to +me again?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Or that if I chose that he should I would let you stop me? He is in +love with somebody else,—and perhaps I am too. And we are two +paupers."</p> + +<p>"My lord would not approve of it."</p> + +<p>"If you know what my lord approves of and what he disapproves you +understand him a great deal better than I do. And if you mind what he +approves or disapproves, you care for his opinion a great deal more +than I do. My cousin is here now to talk to me,—about his own +affairs, and I mean to see him,—alone." Then she left the little +room, and went down to that in which Frank was waiting for her, +without the company of Miss Cassewary.</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean," she said after they had been together for some +minutes, "that you had the courage to ask the Duke for his daughter's +hand?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I believe you would dare do anything."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't very well take it without asking him."</p> + +<p>"As I am not acquainted with the young lady I don't know how that +might be."</p> + +<p>"And if I took her so, I should have to take her empty-handed."</p> + +<p>"Which wouldn't suit;—would it?"</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't suit for her,—whose comforts and happiness are much +more to me than my own."</p> + +<p>"No doubt! Of course you are terribly in love."</p> + +<p>"Very thoroughly in love, I think, I am."</p> + +<p>"For the tenth time, I should say."</p> + +<p>"For the second only. I don't regard myself as a monument of +constancy, but I think I am less fickle than some other people."</p> + +<p>"Meaning me!"</p> + +<p>"Not especially."</p> + +<p>"Frank, that is ill-natured, and almost unmanly,—and false also. +When have I been fickle? You say that there was one before with you. +I say that there has never really been one with me at all. No one +knows that better than yourself. I cannot afford to be in love till I +am quite sure that the man is fit to be, and will be, my husband."</p> + +<p>"I doubt sometimes whether you are capable of being in love with any +one."</p> + +<p>"I think I am," she said, very gently. "But I am at any rate capable +of not being in love till I wish it. Come, Frank; do not quarrel with +me. You know,—you ought to know,—that I should have loved you had +it not been that such love would have been bad for both of us."</p> + +<p>"It is a kind of self-restraint I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"Because you are not a woman."</p> + +<p>"Why did you twit me with changing my love?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am a woman. Can't you forgive as much as that to me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Only you must not think that I have been false because I +now love her so dearly."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you are false. I would do anything to help you if +there were anything I could do. But when you spoke so like a Romeo of +your <span class="nowrap">love—"</span></p> + +<p>"Why not like a Romeo, if I feel like a Romeo?"</p> + +<p>"But I doubt whether Romeo talked much to Rosaline of his love for +Juliet. But you shall talk to me of yours for Lady Mary, and I will +listen to you patiently and encourage you, and will not even think of +those former vows."</p> + +<p>"The former vows were foolish."</p> + +<p>"Oh,—of course."</p> + +<p>"You at least used to say so."</p> + +<p>"I say so now, and they shall be as though they had been never +spoken. So you bearded the Duke in his den, and asked him for Lady +Mary's hand,—just as though you had been a young Duke yourself and +owned half a county?"</p> + +<p>"Just the same."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He swore that it was impossible.—Of course I knew all that before."</p> + +<p>"How will it be now? You will not give it up?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"And Lady Mary?"</p> + +<p>"One human being can perhaps never answer for another with perfect +security."</p> + +<p>"But you feel sure of her?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"He, I should think, can be very imperious."</p> + +<p>"And so can she. The Pallisers are all obstinate."</p> + +<p>"Is Silverbridge obstinate?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Stiff-necked as a bull if he takes it into his head to be so."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought it."</p> + +<p>"No;—because he is so soft in his manner, and often finds it easier +to be led by others than to direct himself."</p> + +<p>Then she remained silent for a few seconds. They were both thinking +of the same thing, and both wishing to speak of it. But the words +came to her first. "I wonder what he thinks of me." Whereupon Tregear +only smiled. "I suppose he has spoken to you about me?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Why!"</p> + +<p>"And why should I tell you? Suppose he should have said to me in the +confidence of friendship that he thinks you ugly and stupid."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he has not said that. He has eyes to see and ears to hear. +But, though I am neither ugly nor stupid, he needn't like me."</p> + +<p>"Do you want him to like you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. Oh yes; you may laugh; but if I did not think that I +could be a good wife to him I would not take his hand even to become +Duchess of Omnium."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you love him, Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"No; I do not mean that. But I would learn to love him. You do not +believe that?" Here he smiled again and shook his head. "It is as I +said before, because you are not a woman, and do not understand how +women are trammelled. Do you think ill of me because I say this?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Do not think ill of me if you can help it, because you are almost +the only friend that I can trust. I almost trust dear old Cass, but +not quite. She is old-fashioned and I shock her. As for other women, +there isn't one anywhere to whom I would say a word. Only think how a +girl such as I am is placed; or indeed any girl. You, if you see a +woman that you fancy, can pursue her, can win her and triumph, or +lose her and gnaw your heart;—at any rate you can do something. You +can tell her that you love her; can tell her so again and again even +though she should scorn you. You can set yourself about the business +you have taken in hand and can work hard at it. What can a girl do?"</p> + +<p>"Girls work hard too sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Of course they do;—but everybody feels that they are sinning +against their sex. Of love, such as a man's is, a woman ought to know +nothing. How can she love with passion when she should never give her +love till it has been asked, and not then unless her friends tell her +that the thing is suitable? Love such as that to me is out of the +question. But, as it is fit that I should be married, I wish to be +married well."</p> + +<p>"And you will love him after a fashion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—after a very sterling fashion. I will make his wishes my +wishes, his ways my ways, his party my party, his home my home, his +ambition my ambition,—his honour my honour." As she said this she +stood up with her hands clenched and head erect, and her eyes +flashing. "Do you not know me well enough to be sure that I should be +loyal to him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I think that you would be loyal."</p> + +<p>"Whether I loved him or not, he should love me."</p> + +<p>"And you think that Silverbridge would do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think that Silverbridge would do. You, no doubt, will say +that I am flying high?"</p> + +<p>"Not too high. Why should you not fly high? If I can justify myself, +surely I cannot accuse you."</p> + +<p>"It is hardly the same thing, Frank. Of course, there is not a girl +in London to whom Lord Silverbridge would not be the best match that +she could make. He has the choice of us all."</p> + +<p>"Most girls would think twice before refusing him."</p> + +<p>"Very few would think twice before accepting him. Perhaps he wishes +to add to his wealth by marrying richly,—as his father did."</p> + +<p>"No thought on that subject will ever trouble him. That will be all +as it happens. As soon as he takes a sufficient fancy to a girl he +will ask her straight off. I do not say that he might not change +afterwards, but he would mean it at the time."</p> + +<p>"If he had once said the word to me, he should not change. But then +what right have I to expect it? What has he ever said about me?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. But had he said much I should not tell you."</p> + +<p>"You are my friend,—but you are his too; and he, perhaps, is more to +you than I am. As his friend it may be your duty to tell him all that +I am saying. If so, I have been wrong."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I shall do that, Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Men are so strong in their friendships."</p> + +<p>"Mine with you is the older, and the sweeter. Though we may not be +more than friends, I will say that it is the more tender. In my heart +of hearts I do not think that Silverbridge could do better."</p> + +<p>"Thanks for that, Frank."</p> + +<p>"I shall tell him nothing of you that can set him against you."</p> + +<p>"And you would be glad to see me his wife?" she said.</p> + +<p>"As you must be somebody's wife, and not mine."</p> + +<p>"I cannot be yours, Frank; can I?"</p> + +<p>"And not mine," he repeated. "I will endeavour to be glad. Who can +explain his feelings in such a matter? Though I most truly love the +girl I hope to marry, yet my heart goes back to former things and +opens itself to past regrets."</p> + +<p>"I know it all," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"But you and I must be too wise to permit ourselves to be tormented +by such foolish melancholy." As he said this he took her hand, half +with the purpose of bidding her good-bye, but partly with the idea of +giving some expression to the tenderness of his feelings. But as he +did so, the door was opened, and the old Earl shambled into the room.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce are you doing here?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I have been talking to Lady Mabel."</p> + +<p>"For about an hour."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do not know for how long."</p> + +<p>"Papa, he is going to be married." When she said this Frank Tregear +turned round and looked at her almost in anger.</p> + +<p>"Going to be married, is he? Who is the fortunate woman?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will let me tell you."</p> + +<p>"Not yet, I think," said Frank, gloomily. "There is nothing settled."</p> + +<p>The old Earl looked puzzled, but Lady Mabel's craft had been +successful. If this objectionable young second-cousin had come there +to talk about his marriage with another young woman, the conversation +must have been innocent. "Where is Miss Cassewary?" asked the Earl.</p> + +<p>"I asked her not to come down with me because Frank wished to speak +to me about his own affairs. You have no objection to his coming, +papa?"</p> + +<p>There had been objections raised to any intimacy with Frank Tregear; +but all that was now nearly two years since. He had been assured over +and over again by Miss Cassewary that he need not be afraid of Frank +Tregear, and had in a sort of way assented to the young man's visits. +"I think he might find something better to do with his time than +hanging about here all day." Frank, shrugging his shoulders, and +having shaken hands both with the daughter and father, took his hat +and departed. "Who is the girl?" asked the Earl.</p> + +<p>"You heard him say that I was not to tell."</p> + +<p>"Has she got money?"</p> + +<p>"I believe she will have a great deal."</p> + +<p>"Then she is a great fool for her pains," said the Earl, shambling +off again.</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel spent the greater part of the afternoon alone, +endeavouring to recall to her mind all that she had said to Frank +Tregear, and questioning herself as to the wisdom and truth of her +own words. She had intended to tell the truth,—but hardly perhaps +the whole truth. The life which was before her,—which it was +necessary that she should lead,—seemed to her to be so difficult! +She could not clearly see her way to be pure and good and feminine, +and at the same time wise. She had been false now;—so far false that +she had told her friend that she had never been in love. But she was +in love;—in love with him, Frank Tregear. She knew it as thoroughly +as it was possible for her to know anything;—and had acknowledged it +to herself a score of times.</p> + +<p>But she could not marry him. And it was expected, nay, almost +necessary that she should marry someone. To that someone, how good +she would be! How she would strive by duty and attention, and if +possible by affection, to make up for that misfortune of her early +love!</p> + +<p>And so I hope that I have brought my cart in to its appointed place +in the front, without showing too much of the horse.</p> + + +<p><a name="c11" id="c11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> +<h3>"Cruel"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>For two or three days after the first scene between the Duke and his +daughter,—that scene in which she was forbidden either to see or to +write to her lover,—not a word was said at Matching about Mr. +Tregear, nor were any steps taken towards curtailing her liberty of +action. She had said she would not write to him without telling her +father, and the Duke was too proud of the honour of his family to +believe it to be possible that she should deceive him. Nor was it +possible. Not only would her own idea of duty prevent her from +writing to her lover, although she had stipulated for the right to do +so in some possible emergency,—but, carried far beyond that in her +sense of what was right and wrong, she felt it now incumbent on her +to have no secret from her father at all. The secret, as long as it +had been a secret, had been a legacy from her mother,—and had been +kept, at her lover's instance, during that period of mourning for her +mother in which it would, she thought, have been indecorous that +there should be any question of love or of giving in marriage. It had +been a burden to her, though a necessary burden. She had been very +clear that the revelation should be made to her father, when it was +made, by her lover. That had been done,—and now it was open to her +to live without any secrecy,—as was her nature. She meant to cling +to her lover. She was quite sure of that. Nothing could divide her +from him but his death or hers,—or falseness on his part. But as to +marriage, that would not be possible till her father had assented. +And as to seeing the man,—ah, yes, if she could do so with her +father's assent! She would not be ashamed to own her great desire to +see him. She would tell her father that all her happiness depended +upon seeing him. She would not be coy in speaking of her love. But +she would obey her father.</p> + +<p>She had a strong idea that she would ultimately prevail,—an idea +also that that "ultimately" should not be postponed to some undefined +middle-aged period of her life. As she intended to belong to Frank +Tregear, she thought it expedient that he should have the best of her +days as well as what might be supposed to be the worst; and she +therefore resolved that it would be her duty to make her father +understand that though she would certainly obey him, she would look +to be treated humanely by him, and not to be made miserable for an +indefinite term of years.</p> + +<p>The first word spoken between them on the subject,—the first word +after that discussion,—began with him and was caused by his feeling +that her present life at Matching must be sad and lonely. Lady +Cantrip had again written that she would be delighted to take +her;—but Lady Cantrip was in London and must be in London, at any +rate when Parliament should again be sitting. A London life would +perhaps, at present, hardly suit Lady Mary. Then a plan had been +prepared which might be convenient. The Duke had a house at Richmond, +on the river, called The Horns. That should be lent to Lady Cantrip, +and Mary should there be her guest. So it was settled between the +Duke and Lady Cantrip. But as yet Lady Mary knew nothing of the +arrangement.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall go up to town to-morrow," said the Duke to his +daughter.</p> + +<p>"For long?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be gone only one night. It is on your behalf that I am +going."</p> + +<p>"On my behalf, papa?"</p> + +<p>"I have been writing to Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"Not about Mr. Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"No;—not about Mr. Tregear," said the father with a mixture of anger +and solemnity in his tone. "It is my desire to regard Mr. Tregear as +though he did not exist."</p> + +<p>"That is not possible, papa."</p> + +<p>"I have alluded to the inconvenience of your position here."</p> + +<p>"Why is it inconvenient?"</p> + +<p>"You are too young to be without a companion. It is not fit that you +should be so much alone."</p> + +<p>"I do not feel it."</p> + +<p>"It is very melancholy for you, and cannot be good for you. They will +go down to The Horns, so that you will not be absolutely in London, +and you will find Lady Cantrip a very nice person."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for new people just now, papa," she said. But to this +he paid but little heed; nor was she prepared to say that she would +not do as he directed. When therefore he left Matching, she +understood that he was going to prepare a temporary home for her. +Nothing further was said about Tregear. She was too proud to ask that +no mention of his name should be made to Lady Cantrip. And he when he +left the house did not think that he would find himself called upon +to allude to the subject.</p> + +<p>But when Lady Cantrip made some inquiry about the girl and her +habits,—asking what were her ordinary occupations, how she was +accustomed to pass her hours, to what she chiefly devoted +herself,—then at last with much difficulty the Duke did bring +himself to tell the story. "Perhaps it is better you should know it +all," he said as he told it.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl! Yes, Duke; upon the whole it is better that I should know +it all," said Lady Cantrip. "Of course he will not come here."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear; I hope not."</p> + +<p>"Nor to The Horns."</p> + +<p>"I hope he will never see her again anywhere," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!"</p> + +<p>"Have I not been right? Is it not best to put an end to such a thing +at once?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly at once, if it has to be put an end to,—and can be put an +end to."</p> + +<p>"It must be put an end to," said the Duke, very decidedly. "Do you +not see that it must be so? Who is Mr. Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose they were allowed to be together."</p> + +<p>"He was unfortunately intimate with Silverbridge, who took him over +to Italy. He has nothing; not even a profession." Lady Cantrip could +not but smile when she remembered the immense wealth of the man who +was speaking to her;—and the Duke saw the smile and understood it. +"You will understand what I mean, Lady Cantrip. If this young man +were in other respects suitable, of course I could find an income for +them. But he is nothing; just an idle seeker for pleasure without the +means of obtaining it."</p> + +<p>"That is very bad."</p> + +<p>"As for rank," continued the Duke energetically, "I do not think that +I am specially wedded to it. I have found myself as willing to +associate with those who are without it as with those who have it. +But for my child, I would wish her to mate with one of her own +class."</p> + +<p>"It would be best."</p> + +<p>"When a young man comes to me who, though I believe him to be what is +called a gentleman, has neither rank, nor means, nor profession, nor +name, and asks for my daughter, surely I am right to say that such a +marriage shall not be thought of. Was I not right?" demanded the Duke +persistently.</p> + +<p>"But it is a pity that it should be so. It is a pity that they should +ever have come together."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed, indeed to be lamented,—and I will own at once that +the fault was not hers. Though I must be firm in this, you are not to +suppose that I am angry with her. I have myself been to blame." This +he said with a resolution that,—as he and his wife had been one +flesh,—all faults committed by her should, now that she was dead, be +accepted by him as his faults. "It had not occurred to me that as yet +she would love any man."</p> + +<p>"Has it gone deep with her, Duke?"</p> + +<p>"I fear that all things go deep with her."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!"</p> + +<p>"But they shall be kept apart! As long as your great kindness is +continued to her they shall be kept apart!"</p> + +<p>"I do not think that I should be found good at watching a young +lady."</p> + +<p>"She will require no watching."</p> + +<p>"Then of course they will not meet. She had better know that you have +told me."</p> + +<p>"She shall know it."</p> + +<p>"And let her know also that anything I can do to make her happy shall +be done. But, Duke, there is but one cure."</p> + +<p>"Time, you mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes; time; but I did not mean time." Then she smiled as she went on. +"You must not suppose that I am speaking against my own sex if I say +that she will not forget Mr. Tregear till someone else has made +himself agreeable to her. We must wait till she can go out a little +into society. Then she will find out that there are others in the +world besides Mr. Tregear. It so often is the case that a girl's love +means her sympathy for him who has chanced to be nearest to her."</p> + +<p>The Duke as he went away thought very much of what Lady Cantrip had +said to him;—particularly of those last words. "Till some one else +has made himself agreeable to her." Was he to send his girl into the +world in order that she might find a lover? There was something in +the idea which was thoroughly distasteful to him. He had not given +his mind much to the matter, but he felt that a woman should be +sought for,—sought for and extracted, cunningly, as it were, from +some hiding-place, and not sent out into a market to be exposed as +for sale. In his own personal history there had been a misfortune,—a +misfortune, the sense of which he could never, at any moment, have +expressed to any ears, the memory of which had been always buried in +his own bosom,—but a misfortune in that no such cunning extraction +on his part had won for him the woman to whose hands had been +confided the strings of his heart. His wife had undergone that +process of extraction before he had seen her, and his marriage with +her had been a matter of sagacious bargaining. He was now told that +his daughter must be sent out among young men in order that she might +become sufficiently fond of some special one to be regardless of +Tregear. There was a feeling that in doing so she must lose something +of the freshness of the bloom of her innocence. How was this transfer +of her love to be effected? Let her go here because she will meet the +heir of this wealthy house who may probably be smitten by her charms; +or there because that other young lordling would make a fit husband +for her. Let us contrive to throw her into the arms of this man, or +put her into the way of that man. Was his girl to be exposed to this? +Surely that method of bargaining to which he had owed his own wife +would be better than that. Let it be said,—only he himself most +certainly could not be the person to say it,—let it be said to some +man of rank and means and fairly good character: "Here is a wife for +you with so many thousand pounds, with beauty, as you can see for +yourself, with rank and belongings of the highest; very good in every +respect;—only that as regards her heart she thinks she has given it +to a young man named Tregear. No marriage there is possible; but +perhaps the young lady might suit you?" It was thus he had been +married. There was an absence in it of that romance which, though he +had never experienced it in his own life, was always present to his +imagination. His wife had often ridiculed him because he could only +live among figures and official details; but to her had not been +given the power of looking into a man's heart and feeling all that +was there. Yes;—in such bargaining for a wife, in such bargaining +for a husband, there could be nothing of the tremulous delicacy of +feminine romance; but it would be better than standing at a stall in +the market till the sufficient purchaser should come. It never +occurred to him that the delicacy, the innocence, the romance, the +bloom might all be preserved if he would give his girl to the man +whom she said she loved. Could he have modelled her future course +according to his own wishes, he would have had her live a gentle life +for the next three years, with a pencil perhaps in her hand or a +music-book before her;—and then come forth, cleaned as it were by +such quarantine from the impurity to which she had been subjected.</p> + +<p>When he was back at Matching he at once told his daughter what he had +arranged for her, and then there took place a prolonged discussion +both as to his view of her future life and as to her own. "You did +tell her then about Mr. Tregear?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"As she is to have charge of you for a time I thought it best."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is. Perhaps—you were afraid."</p> + +<p>"No; I was not afraid," he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid. I shall do nothing elsewhere that I would +not do here, and nothing anywhere without telling you."</p> + +<p>"I know I can trust you."</p> + +<p>"But, papa, I shall always intend to marry Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>"No!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—always. I want you to understand exactly how it is. Nothing +you can do can separate me from him."</p> + +<p>"Mary, that is very wicked."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be wicked to tell the truth, papa. I mean to try to do all +that you tell me. I shall not see him, or write to him,—unless there +should be some very particular reason. And if I did see him or write +to him I would tell you. And of course I should not think of—of +marrying without your leave. But I shall expect you to let me marry +him."</p> + +<p>"Never!"</p> + +<p>"Then I shall think you are—cruel; and you will break my heart."</p> + +<p>"You should not call your father cruel."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not be cruel."</p> + +<p>"I can never permit you to marry this man. It would be altogether +improper. I cannot allow you to say that I am cruel because I do what +I feel to be my duty. You will see other people."</p> + +<p>"A great many perhaps."</p> + +<p>"And will learn to,—to,—to forget him."</p> + +<p>"Never! I will not forget him. I should hate myself if I thought it +possible. What would love be worth if it could be forgotten in that +way?" As he heard this he reflected whether his own wife, this girl's +mother, had ever forgotten her early love for that Burgo Fitzgerald +whom in her girlhood she had wished to marry.</p> + +<p>When he was leaving her she called him back again. "There is one +other thing I think I ought to say, papa. If Lady Cantrip speaks to +me about Mr. Tregear, I can only tell her what I have told you. I +shall never give him up." When he heard this he turned angrily from +her, almost stamping his foot upon the ground, when she quietly left +the room.</p> + +<p>Cruel! She had told him that he would be cruel, if he opposed her +love. He thought he knew of himself that he could not be cruel,—even +to a fly, even to a political opponent. There could be no cruelty +without dishonesty, and did he not always struggle to be honest? +Cruel to his own daughter!</p> + + +<p><a name="c12" id="c12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> +<h3>At Richmond<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The pity of it! The pity of it! It was thus that Lady Cantrip looked +at it. From what the girl's father had said to her she was disposed +to believe that the malady had gone deep with her. "All things go +deep with her," he had said. And she too from other sources had heard +something of this girl. She was afraid that it would go deep. It was +a thousand pities! Then she asked herself whether the marriage ought +to be regarded as impossible. The Duke had been very positive,—had +declared again and again that it was quite impossible, had so +expressed himself as to make her aware that he intended her to +understand that he would not yield whatever the sufferings of the +girl might be. But Lady Cantrip knew the world well and was aware +that in such matters daughters are apt to be stronger than their +fathers. He had declared Tregear to be a young man with very small +means, and intent on such pleasures as require great means for their +enjoyment. No worse character could be given to a gentleman who had +proposed himself as a son-in-law. But Lady Cantrip thought it +possible that the Duke might be mistaken in this. She had never seen +Mr. Tregear, but she fancied that she had heard his name, and that +the name had been connected with a character different from that +which the Duke had given him.</p> + +<p>Lady Cantrip, who at this time was a young-looking woman, not much +above forty, had two daughters, both of whom were married. The +younger about a year since had become the wife of Lord Nidderdale, a +middle-aged young man who had been long about town, a cousin of the +late Duchess, the heir to a marquisate, and a Member of Parliament. +The marriage had not been considered to be very brilliant; but the +husband was himself good-natured and pleasant, and Lady Cantrip was +fond of him. In the first place she went to him for information.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I know him. He's one of our set at the Beargarden."</p> + +<p>"Not your set, now, I hope," she said laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well;—I don't see so much of them as I used to do. Tregear is not a +bad fellow at all. He's always with Silverbridge. When Silverbridge +does what Tregear tells him, he goes along pretty straight. But +unfortunately there's another man called Tifto, and when Tifto is in +the ascendant then Silverbridge is apt to get a little astray."</p> + +<p>"He's not in debt, then?"</p> + +<p>"Who?—Tregear? I should think he's the last man in the world to owe +a penny to any one."</p> + +<p>"Is he a betting man?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no; quite the other way up. He's a severe, sarcastic, +bookish sort of fellow,—a chap who knows everything and turns up his +nose at people who know nothing."</p> + +<p>"Has he got anything of his own?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, I should say. If he had had any money he would have +married Lady Mab Grex last year."</p> + +<p>Lady Cantrip was inclined from what she now learned to think that the +Duke must be wrong about the young man. But before Lady Mary joined +her she made further inquiry. She too knew Lady Mabel, and knowing +Lady Mabel, she knew Miss Cassewary. She contrived to find herself +alone with Miss Cassewary, and asked some further questions about Mr. +Tregear. "He is a cousin of my Lord's," said Miss Cass.</p> + +<p>"So I thought. I wonder what sort of a young man he is. He is a good +deal with Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>Then Miss Cassewary spoke her opinion very plainly. "If Lord +Silverbridge had nobody worse about him than Mr. Tregear he would not +come to much harm."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he's not very well off."</p> + +<p>"No;—certainly not. He will have a property of some kind, I believe, +when his mother dies. I think very well of Mr. Tregear;—only I wish +that he had a profession. But why are you asking about him, Lady +Cantrip?"</p> + +<p>"Nidderdale was talking to me about him and saying that he was so +much with Lord Silverbridge. Lord Silverbridge is going into +Parliament now, and, as it were, beginning the world, and it would be +a thousand pities that he should get into bad hands." It may, +however, be doubted whether Miss Cassewary was hoodwinked by this +little story.</p> + +<p>Early in the second week in May the Duke brought his daughter up to +The Horns, and at the same time expressed his intention of remaining +in London. When he did so Lady Mary at once asked whether she might +not be with him,—but he would not permit it. The house in London +would, he said, be more gloomy even than Matching.</p> + +<p>"I am quite ashamed of giving you so much trouble," Lady Mary said to +her new friend.</p> + +<p>"We are delighted to have you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But I know that you have been obliged to leave London because I am +with you."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing I like so much as this place, which your father has +been kind enough to lend us. As for London, there is nothing now to +make me like being there. Both my girls are married, and therefore I +regard myself as an old woman who has done her work. Don't you think +this place very much nicer than London at this time of the year?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know London at all. I had only just been brought out when +poor mamma went abroad."</p> + +<p>The life they led was very quiet, and must probably have been felt to +be dull by Lady Cantrip, in spite of her old age and desire for +retirement. But the place itself was very lovely. May of all the +months of the year is in England the most insidious, the most +dangerous, and the most inclement. A greatcoat cannot be endured, and +without a greatcoat who can endure a May wind and live? But of all +months it is the prettiest. The grasses are then the greenest, and +the young foliage of the trees, while it has all the glory and all +the colour of spring vegetation, does not hide the form of the +branches as do the heavy masses of the larger leaves which come in +the advancing summer. And of all villas near London The Horns was the +sweetest. The broad green lawn swept down to the very margin of the +Thames, which absolutely washed the fringe of grass when the tide was +high. And here, along the bank, was a row of flowering ashes, the +drooping boughs of which in places touched the water. It was one of +those spots which when they are first seen make the beholder feel +that to be able to live there and look at it always would be +happiness enough for life.</p> + +<p>At the end of the week there came a visitor to see Lady Mary. A very +pretty carriage was driven up to the door of The Horns, and the +servant asked for Lady Mary Palliser. The owner of that carriage was +Mrs. Finn. Now it must be explained to the reader that there had +never been any friendship between Mrs. Finn and Lady Cantrip, though +the ladies had met each other. The great political intimacy which had +existed between the Duke and Lord Cantrip had created some intimacy +also between their wives. The Duchess and Lady Cantrip had been +friends,—after a fashion. But Mrs. Finn had never been cordially +accepted by those among whom Lady Cantrip chiefly lived. When +therefore the name was announced, the servant expressly stating that +the visitor had asked for Lady Mary, Lady Cantrip, who was with her +guest, had to bethink herself what she would do. The Duke, who was at +this time very full of wrath against Mrs. Finn, had not mentioned +this lady's name when delivering up the charge of his daughter to +Lady Cantrip. At this moment it occurred to her that not improbably +Mrs. Finn would cease to be included in the intimacies of the +Palliser family from the time of the death of the Duchess,—that the +Duke would not care to maintain the old relations, and that he would +be as little anxious to do it for his daughter as for himself. If so, +could it be right that Mrs. Finn should come down here, to a house +which was now in the occupation of a lady with whom she was not on +inviting terms, in order that she might thus force herself on the +Duke's daughter? Mrs. Finn had not left her carriage, but had sent in +to ask if Lady Mary could see her. In all this there was considerable +embarrassment. She looked round at her guest, who had at once risen +from her chair. "Would you wish to see her?" asked Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; certainly."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen her since,—since you came home from Italy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, yes! She was down at Matching when poor mamma died. And +papa persuaded her to remain afterwards. Of course I will see her." +Then the servant was desired to ask Mrs. Finn to come in;—and while +this was being done Lady Cantrip retired.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Finn embraced her young friend, and asked after her welfare, and +after the welfare of the house in which she was staying,—a house +with which Mrs. Finn herself had been well acquainted,—and said +half-a-dozen pretty little things in her own quiet pretty way, before +she spoke of the matter which had really brought her to The Horns on +that day.</p> + +<p>"I have had a correspondence with your father, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Indeed."</p> + +<p>"And unfortunately one that has been far from agreeable to me."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"So am I, very sorry. I may say with perfect truth that there is no +man in the world, except my own husband, for whom I feel so perfect +an esteem as I do for your father. If it were not that I do not like +to be carried away by strong language I would speak of more than +esteem. Through your dear mother I have watched his conduct closely, +and have come to think that there is perhaps no other man at the same +time so just and so patriotic. Now he is very angry with me,—and +most unjustly angry."</p> + +<p>"Is it about me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—it is about you. Had it not been altogether about you I would +not have troubled you."</p> + +<p>"And about—?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—about Mr. Tregear also. When I tell you that there has been a +correspondence I must explain that I have written one long letter to +the Duke, and that in answer I have received a very short one. That +has been the whole correspondence. Here is your father's letter to +me." Then she brought out of her pocket a note, which Lady Mary +read,—covered with blushes as she did so. The note was as +follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>The Duke of Omnium understands from Mrs. Finn's letter +that Mrs. Finn, while she was the Duke's guest at +Matching, was aware of a certain circumstance affecting +the Duke's honour and happiness,—which circumstance she +certainly did not communicate to the Duke. The Duke thinks +that the trust which had been placed in Mrs. Finn should +have made such a communication imperative. The Duke feels +that no further correspondence between himself and Mrs. +Finn on the matter could lead to any good result.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Do you understand it?" asked Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"It simply means this,—that when at Matching he had thought me +worthy of having for a time the charge of you and of your welfare, +that he had trusted me, who was the friend of your dear mother, to +take for a time in regard to you the place which had been so +unhappily left vacant by her death; and it means also that I deceived +him and betrayed that trust by being privy to an engagement on your +part, of which he disapproves, and of which he was not then aware."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he does mean that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lady Mary; that is what he means. And he means further to let +me know that as I did so foully betray the trust which he had placed +in me,—that as I had consented to play the part of assistant to you +in that secret engagement,—therefore he casts me off as altogether +unworthy of his esteem and acquaintance. It is as though he had told +me in so many words that among women he had known none more vile or +more false than I."</p> + +<p>"Not that, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that;—all of that. He tells me that, and then says that there +shall be no more words spoken or written about it. I can hardly +submit to so stern a judgment. You know the truth, Lady Mary."</p> + +<p>"Do not call me Lady Mary. Do not quarrel with me."</p> + +<p>"If your father has quarrelled with me, it would not be fit that you +and I should be friends. Your duty to him would forbid it. I should +not have come to you now did I not feel that I am bound to justify +myself. The thing of which I am accused is so repugnant to me, that I +am obliged to do something and to say something, even though the +subject itself be one on which I would so willingly be silent."</p> + +<p>"What can I do, Mrs. Finn?"</p> + +<p>"It was Mr. Tregear who first told me that your father was angry with +me. He knew what I had done and why, and he was bound to tell me in +order that I might have an opportunity of setting myself right with +the Duke. Then I wrote and explained everything,—how you had told me +of the engagement, and how I had then urged Mr. Tregear that he +should not keep such a matter secret from your father. In answer to +my letter I have received—that."</p> + +<p>"Shall I write and tell papa?"</p> + +<p>"He should be made to understand that from the moment in which I +heard of the engagement I was urgent with you and with Mr. Tregear +that he should be informed of it. You will remember what passed."</p> + +<p>"I remember it all."</p> + +<p>"I did not conceive it to be my duty to tell the Duke myself, but I +did conceive it to be my duty to see he should be told. Now he writes +as though I had known the secret from the first, and as though I had +been concealing it from him at the very moment in which he was asking +me to remain at Matching on your behalf. That I consider to be +hard,—and unjust. I cannot deny what he says. I did know of it while +I was at Matching, for it was at Matching that you told me. But he +implies that I knew it before. When you told me your story I did feel +that it was my duty to see that the matter was not kept longer from +him;—and I did my duty. Now your father takes upon himself to rebuke +me,—and takes upon himself at the same time to forbid me to write to +him again!"</p> + +<p>"I will tell him all, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"Let him understand this. I do not wish to write to him again. After +what has passed I cannot say I wish to see him again. But I think he +should acknowledge to me that he has been mistaken. He need not then +fear that I shall trouble him with any reply. But I shall know that +he has acquitted me of a fault of which I cannot bear to think I +should be accused." Then she took a somewhat formal though still an +affectionate farewell of the girl.</p> + +<p>"I want to see papa as soon as possible," said Lady Mary when she was +again with Lady Cantrip. The reason for her wish was soon given, and +then the whole story told. "You do not think that she should have +gone to papa at once?" Lady Mary asked. It was a point of moral law +on which the elder woman, who had had girls of her own, found it hard +to give an immediate answer. It certainly is expedient that parents +should know at once of any engagement by which their daughters may +seek to contract themselves. It is expedient that they should be able +to prevent any secret contracts. Lady Cantrip felt strongly that Mrs. +Finn having accepted the confidential charge of the daughter could +not, without gross betrayal of trust, allow herself to be the +depositary of such a secret. "But she did not allow herself," said +Lady Mary, pleading for her friend.</p> + +<p>"But she left the house without telling him, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But it was because of what she did that he was told."</p> + +<p>"That is true; but I doubt whether she should have left him an hour +in ignorance."</p> + +<p>"But it was I who told her. She would have betrayed me."</p> + +<p>"She was not a fit recipient for your confidence, Mary. But I do not +wish to accuse her. She seems to be a high-minded woman, and I think +that your papa has been hard upon her."</p> + +<p>"And mamma knew it always," said Mary. To this Lady Cantrip could +give no answer. Whatever cause for anger the Duke might have against +Mrs. Finn, there had been cause for much more against his wife. But +she had freed herself from all accusation by death.</p> + +<p>Lady Mary wrote to her father, declaring that she was most +particularly anxious to see him and talk to him about Mrs. Finn.</p> + + +<p><a name="c13" id="c13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> +<h3>The Duke's Injustice<br /> </h3> + + +<p>No advantage whatever was obtained by Lady Mary's interview with her +father. He persisted that Mrs. Finn had been untrue to him when she +left Matching without telling him all that she knew of his daughter's +engagement with Mr. Tregear. No doubt by degrees that idea which he +at first entertained was expelled from his head,—the idea that she +had been cognisant of the whole thing before she came to Matching; +but even this was done so slowly that there was no moment at which he +became aware of any lessened feeling of indignation. To his thinking +she had betrayed her trust, and he could not be got by his daughter +to say that he would forgive her. He certainly could not be got to +say that he would apologise for the accusation he had made. It was +nothing less that his daughter asked; and he could hardly refrain +himself from anger when she asked it. "There should not have been a +moment," he said, "before she came to me and told me all." Poor Lady +Mary's position was certainly uncomfortable enough. The great +sin,—the sin which was so great that to have known it for a day +without revealing it was in itself a damning sin on the part of Mrs. +Finn,—was Lady Mary's sin. And she differed so entirely from her +father as to think that this sin of her own was a virtue, and that to +have spoken of it to him would have been, on the part of Mrs. Finn, a +treachery so deep that no woman ought to have forgiven it! When he +spoke of a matter which deeply affected his honour,—she could hardly +refrain from asserting that his honour was quite safe in his +daughter's hands. And when in his heart he declared that it should +have been Mrs. Finn's first care to save him from disgrace, Lady Mary +did break out. "Papa, there could be no disgrace." "That for a moment +shall be laid aside," he said, with that manner by which even his +peers in council had never been able not to be awed, "but if you +communicate with Mrs. Finn at all you must make her understand that I +regard her conduct as inexcusable."</p> + +<p>Nothing had been gained, and poor Lady Mary was compelled to write a +few lines which were to her most painful in writing.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mrs. Finn</span>,</p> + +<p>I have seen papa, and he thinks that you ought to have +told him when I told you. It occurs to me that that would +have been a cruel thing to do, and most unfair to Mr. +Tregear, who was quite willing to go to papa, and had only +put off doing so because of poor mamma's death. As I had +told mamma, of course it was right that he should tell +papa. Then I told you, because you were so kind to me! I +am so sorry that I have got you into this trouble; but +what can I do?</p> + +<p>I told him I must write to you. I suppose it is better +that I should, although what I have to say is so +unpleasant. I hope it will all blow over in time, because +I love you dearly. You may be quite sure of one +thing,—that I shall never change. [In this assurance the +writer was alluding not to her friendship for her friend +but her love for her lover,—and so the friend understood +her.] I hope things will be settled some day, and then we +may be able to meet.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your very affectionate Friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Mary +Palliser</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Finn, when she received this, was alone in her house in Park +Lane. Her husband was down in the North of England. On this subject +she had not spoken to him, fearing that he would feel himself bound +to take some steps to support his wife under the treatment she had +received. Even though she must quarrel with the Duke, she was most +anxious that her husband should not be compelled to do so. Their +connection had been political rather than personal. There were many +reasons why there should be no open cause of disruption between them. +But her husband was hot-headed, and, were all this to be told him and +that letter shown to him which the Duke had written, there would be +words between him and the Duke which would probably make impossible +any further connection between them.</p> + +<p>It troubled her very much. She was by no means not alive to the +honour of the Duke's friendship. Throughout her intimacy with the +Duchess she had abstained from pressing herself on him, not because +she had been indifferent about him, but that she had perceived that +she might make her way with him better by standing aloof than by +thrusting herself forward. And she had known that she had been +successful. She could tell herself with pride that her conduct +towards him had been always such as would become a lady of high +spirit and fine feeling. She knew that she had deserved well of him, +that in all her intercourse with him, with his uncle, and with his +wife, she had given much and had taken little. She was the last woman +in the world to let a word on such a matter pass her lips; but not +the less was she conscious of her merit towards him. And she had been +led to act as she had done by sincere admiration for the man. In all +their political troubles, she had understood him better than the +Duchess had done. Looking on from a distance she had understood the +man's character as it had come to her both from his wife and from her +own husband.</p> + +<p>That he was unjust to her,—cruelly unjust, she was quite sure. He +accused her of intentional privity to a secret which it behoved him +to know, and of being a party to that secrecy. Whereas from the +moment in which she had heard the secret she had determined that it +must be made known to him. She felt that she had deserved his good +opinion in all things, but in nothing more than in the way in which +she had acted in this matter. And yet he had treated her with an +imperious harshness which amounted to insolence. What a letter it was +that he had written to her! The very tips of her ears tingled with +heat as she read it again to herself. None of the ordinary courtesies +of epistle-craft had been preserved either in the beginning or in the +end. It was worse even than if he had called her Madam without an +epithet. "The Duke understands—" "The Duke thinks—" "The Duke +feels—" feels that he should not be troubled with either letters or +conversation; the upshot of it all being that the Duke declared her +to have shown herself unworthy of being treated like a lady! And this +after all that she had done!</p> + +<p>She would not bear it. That at present was all that she could say to +herself. She was not angry with Lady Mary. She did not doubt but that +the girl had done the best in her power to bring her father to +reason. But because Lady Mary had failed, she, Mrs. Finn, was not +going to put up with so grievous an injury. And she was forced to +bear all this alone! There was none with whom she could +communicate;—no one from whom she could ask advice. She would not +bring her husband into a quarrel which might be prejudicial to his +position as a member of his political party. There was no one else to +whom she would tell the secret of Lady Mary's love. And yet she could +not bear this injustice done to her.</p> + +<p>Then she wrote as follows to the Duke:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Mrs. Finn presents her compliments to the Duke of Omnium. +Mrs. Finn finds it to be essential to her that she should +see the Duke in reference to his letter to her. If his +Grace will let her know on what day and at what hour he +will be kind enough to call on her, Mrs. Finn will be at +home to receive him.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Park Lane. Thursday, +12th May, 18—.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c14" id="c14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> +<h3>The New Member for Silverbridge<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Silverbridge was informed that it would be right that he should +go down to Silverbridge a few days before the election, to make +himself known to the electors. As the day for the election drew near +it was understood that there would be no other candidate. The +Conservative side was the popular side among the tradesmen of +Silverbridge. Silverbridge had been proud to be honoured by the +services of the heir of the house of Omnium, even while that heir had +been a Liberal,—had regarded it as so much a matter of course that +the borough should be at his disposal that no question as to politics +had ever arisen while he retained the seat. And had the Duke chosen +to continue to send them Liberals, one after another, when he went +into the House of Lords, there would have been no question as to the +fitness of the man or men so sent. Silverbridge had been supposed to +be a Liberal as a matter of course,—because the Pallisers were +Liberals. But when the matter was remitted to themselves,—when the +Duke declared that he would not interfere any more, for it was thus +that the borough had obtained its freedom,—then the borough began to +feel Conservative predilections. "If his Grace really does mean us to +do just what we please ourselves, which is a thing we never thought +of asking from his Grace, then we find, having turned the matter over +among ourselves, that we are upon the whole Conservative." In this +spirit the borough had elected a certain Mr. Fletcher; but in doing +so the borough had still a shade of fear that it would offend the +Duke. The house of Palliser, Gatherum Castle, the Duke of Omnium, and +this special Duke himself, were all so great in the eyes of the +borough, that the first and only strong feeling in the borough was +the one of duty. The borough did not altogether enjoy being +enfranchised. But when the Duke had spoken once, twice, and thrice, +then with a hesitating heart the borough returned Mr. Fletcher. Now +Mr. Fletcher was wanted elsewhere, having been persuaded to stand for +the county, and it was a comfort to the borough that it could +resettle itself beneath the warmth of the wings of the Pallisers.</p> + +<p>So the matter stood when Lord Silverbridge was told that his presence +in the borough for a few hours would be taken as a compliment. +Hitherto no one knew him at Silverbridge. During his boyhood he had +not been much at Gatherum Castle, and had done his best to eschew the +place since he had ceased to be a boy. All the Pallisers took a pride +in Gatherum Castle, but they all disliked it. "Oh yes; I'll go down," +he said to Mr. Morton, who was up in town. "I needn't go to the great +barrack I suppose." The great barrack was the Castle. "I'll put up at +the Inn." Mr. Morton begged the heir to come to his own house; but +Silverbridge declared that he would prefer the Inn, and so the matter +was settled. He was to meet sundry politicians,—Mr. Sprugeon and Mr. +Sprout and Mr. Du Boung,—who would like to be thanked for what they +had done. But who was to go with him? He would naturally have asked +Tregear, but from Tregear he had for the last week or two been, not +perhaps estranged, but separated. He had been much taken up with +racing. He had gone down to Chester with Major Tifto, and under the +Major's auspicious influences had won a little money;—and now he was +very anxiously preparing himself for the Newmarket Second Spring +Meeting. He had therefore passed much of his time with Major Tifto. +And when this visit to Silverbridge was pressed on him he +thoughtlessly asked Tifto to go with him. Tifto was delighted. Lord +Silverbridge was to be met at Silverbridge by various well-known +politicians from the neighbourhood, and Major Tifto was greatly +elated by the prospect of such an introduction into the political +world.</p> + +<p>But no sooner had the offer been made by Lord Silverbridge than he +saw his own indiscretion. Tifto was very well for Chester or +Newmarket, very well perhaps for the Beargarden, but not very well +for an electioneering expedition. An idea came to the young nobleman +that if it should be his fate to represent Silverbridge in Parliament +for the next twenty years, it would be well that Silverbridge should +entertain respecting him some exalted estimation,—that Silverbridge +should be taught to regard him as a fit son of his father and a +worthy specimen of the British political nobility. Struck by serious +reflections of this nature he did open his mind to Tregear. "I am +very fond of Tifto," he said, "but I don't know whether he's just the +sort of fellow to take down to an election."</p> + +<p>"I should think not," said Tregear very decidedly.</p> + +<p>"He's a very good fellow, you know," said Silverbridge. "I don't know +an honester man than Tifto anywhere."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. Or rather, I don't dare say. I know nothing about the +Major's honesty, and I doubt whether you do. He rides very well."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing on earth. Therefore I advise you not to take him to +Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"You needn't preach."</p> + +<p>"You may call it what you like. Tifto would not hold his tongue, and +there is nothing he could say there which would not be to your +prejudice."</p> + +<p>"Will you go?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish it," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"What will the governor say?"</p> + +<p>"That must be your look-out. In a political point of view I shall not +disgrace you. I shall hold my tongue and look like a +gentleman,—neither of which is in Tifto's power."</p> + +<p>And so it was settled, that on the day but one after this +conversation Lord Silverbridge and Tregear should go together to +Silverbridge. But the Major, when on the same night his noble +friend's altered plans were explained to him, did not bear the +disappointment with equanimity. "Isn't that a little strange?" he +said, becoming very red in the face.</p> + +<p>"What do you call strange?" said the Lord.</p> + +<p>"Well;—I'd made all my arrangements. When a man has been asked to do +a thing like that, he doesn't like to be put off."</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Tifto, when I came to think of it, I saw that, going +down to these fellows about Parliament and all that sort of thing, I +ought to have a political atmosphere, and not a racing or a betting +or a hunting atmosphere."</p> + +<p>"There isn't a man in London who cares more about politics than I +do;—and not very many perhaps who understand them better. To tell +you the truth, my Lord, I think you are throwing me over."</p> + +<p>"I'll make it up to you," said Silverbridge, meaning to be kind. +"I'll go down to Newmarket with you and stick to you like wax."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you'll do that," said Tifto, who, like a fool, failed to +see where his advantage lay. "I can be useful at Newmarket, and so +you'll stick to me."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Major Tifto," said Silverbridge; "if you are +dissatisfied, you and I can easily separate ourselves."</p> + +<p>"I am not dissatisfied," said the little man, almost crying.</p> + +<p>"Then don't talk as though you were. As to Silverbridge, I shall not +want you there. When I asked you I was only thinking what would be +pleasant to both of us; but since that I have remembered that +business must be business." Even this did not reconcile the angry +little man, who as he turned away declared within his own little +bosom that he would "take it out of Silverbridge for that."</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge and Tregear went down to the borough together, and +on the journey something was said about Lady Mary,—and something +also about Lady Mabel. "From the first, you know," said Lady Mary's +brother, "I never thought it would answer."</p> + +<p>"Why not answer?"</p> + +<p>"Because I knew the governor would not have it. Money and rank and +those sort of things are not particularly charming to me. But still +things should go together. It is all very well for you and me to be +pals, but of course it will be expected that Mary should marry +<span class="nowrap">some—"</span></p> + +<p>"Some swell?"</p> + +<p>"Some swell, if you will have it."</p> + +<p>"You mean to call yourself a swell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes I do," said Silverbridge, with considerable resolution. "You +ought not to make yourself disagreeable, because you understand all +about it as well as anybody. Chance has made me the eldest son of a +Duke and heir to an enormous fortune. Chance has made my sister the +daughter of a Duke, and an heiress also. My intimacy with you ought +to be proof at any rate to you that I don't on that account set +myself up above other fellows. But when you come to talk of marriage, +of course it is a serious thing."</p> + +<p>"But you have told me more than once that you have no objection on +your own score."</p> + +<p>"Nor have I."</p> + +<p>"You are only saying what the Duke will think."</p> + +<p>"I am telling you that it is impossible, and I told you so before. +You and she will be kept apart, and <span class="nowrap">so—"</span></p> + +<p>"And so she'll forget me."</p> + +<p>"Something of that kind."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have to trust to her for that. If she forgets me, well +and good."</p> + +<p>"She needn't forget you. Lord bless me! you talk as though the thing +were not done every day. You'll hear some morning that she is going +to marry some fellow who has a lot of money and a good position; and +what difference will it make then whether she has forgotten you or +not?" It might almost have been supposed that the young man had been +acquainted with his mother's history.</p> + +<p>After this there was a pause, and there arose conversation about +other things, and a cigar was smoked. Then Tregear returned once more +to the subject. "There is one thing I wish to say about it all."</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to understand that nothing else will turn me away from my +intention but such a marriage on her part as that of which you speak. +Nothing that your father can do will turn me."</p> + +<p>"She can't marry without his leave."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not."</p> + +<p>"That he'll never give,—and I don't suppose you look forward to +waiting till his death."</p> + +<p>"If he sees that her happiness really depends on it he will give his +leave. It all depends on that. If I judge your father rightly, he's +just as soft-hearted as other people. The man who holds out is not +the man of the firmest opinion, but the man of the hardest heart."</p> + +<p>"Somebody will talk Mary over."</p> + +<p>"If so, the thing is over. It all depends on her." Then he went on to +tell his friend that he had spoken of his engagement to Lady Mabel. +"I have mentioned it to no soul but to your father and to her."</p> + +<p>"Why to her?"</p> + +<p>"Because we were friends together as children. I never had a sister, +but she has been more like a sister to me than any one else. Do you +object to her knowing it?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly. It seems to me now that everybody knows +everything. There are no longer any secrets."</p> + +<p>"But she is a special friend."</p> + +<p>"Of yours," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"And of yours," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes;—in a sort of way. She is the jolliest girl I know."</p> + +<p>"Take her all round, for beauty, intellect, good sense, and fun at +the same time, I don't know any one equal to her."</p> + +<p>"It's a pity you didn't fall in love with her."</p> + +<p>"We knew each other too early for that. And then she has not a +shilling. I should think myself dishonest if I did not tell you that +I could not afford to love any girl who hadn't money. A man must +live,—and a woman too."</p> + +<p>At the station they were met by Mr. Sprugeon and Mr. Sprout, who, +with many apologies for the meanness of such entertainment, took them +up to the George and Vulture, which was supposed for the nonce to be +the Conservative hotel in the town. Here they were met by other men +of importance in the borough, and among them by Mr. Du Boung. Now Mr. +Sprout and Mr. Sprugeon were Conservatives, but Mr. Du Boung was a +strong Liberal.</p> + +<p>"We are, all of us, particularly glad to see your Lordship among us," +said Mr. Du Boung.</p> + +<p>"I have told his Lordship how perfectly satisfied you are to see the +borough in his Lordship's hands," said Mr. Sprugeon.</p> + +<p>"I am sure it could not be in better," said Mr. Du Boung. "For myself +I am quite willing to postpone any peculiar shade of politics to the +advantage of having your father's son as our representative."</p> + +<p>This Mr. Du Boung said with much intention of imparting both grace +and dignity to the occasion. He thought that he was doing a great +thing for the house of Omnium, and that the house of Omnium ought to +know it.</p> + +<p>"That's very kind of you," said Lord Silverbridge, who had not read +as carefully as he should have done the letters which had been sent +to him, and did not therefore quite understand the position.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Du Boung had intended to stand himself," said Mr. Sprout.</p> + +<p>"But retired in your Lordship's favour," said Mr. Sprugeon.</p> + +<p>"In doing which I considered that I studied the interest of the +borough," said Mr. Du Boung.</p> + +<p>"I thought you gave it up because there was hardly a footing for a +Liberal," said his Lordship, very imprudently.</p> + +<p>"The borough was always Liberal till the last election," said Mr. Du +Boung, drawing himself up.</p> + +<p>"The borough wishes on this occasion to be magnanimous," said Mr. +Sprout, probably having on his mind some confusion between +magnanimity and unanimity.</p> + +<p>"As your Lordship is coming among us, the borough is anxious to sink +politics altogether for the moment," said Mr. Sprugeon. There had no +doubt been a compact between the Sprugeon and Sprout party and the Du +Boung party in accordance with which it had been arranged that Mr. Du +Boung should be entitled to a certain amount of glorification in the +presence of Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"And it was in compliance with that wish on the part of the borough, +my Lord," said Mr. Du Boung,—"as to which my own feelings were quite +as strong as that of any other gentleman in the borough,—that I +conceived it to be my duty to give way."</p> + +<p>"His Lordship is quite aware how much he owes to Mr. Du Boung," said +Tregear. Whereupon Lord Silverbridge bowed.</p> + +<p>"And now what are we to do?" said Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>Then there was a little whispering between Mr. Sprout and Mr. +Sprugeon. "Perhaps, Mr. Du Boung," said Sprugeon, "his Lordship had +better call first on Dr. Tempest."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said the injured brewer, "as it is to be a party affair +after all I had better retire from the scene."</p> + +<p>"I thought all that was to be given up," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Sprout. "Suppose we go to Mr. Walker first?"</p> + +<p>"I'm up to anything," said Lord Silverbridge; "but of course +everybody understands that I am a Conservative."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, yes," said Sprugeon.</p> + +<p>"We are all aware of that," said Sprout.</p> + +<p>"And very glad we've all of us been to hear it," said the landlord.</p> + +<p>"Though there are some in the borough who could have wished, my Lord, +that you had stuck to the old Palliser politics," said Mr. Du Boung.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't stuck to the Palliser politics. Just at present I +think that order and all that sort of thing should be maintained."</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!" said the landlord.</p> + +<p>"And now, as I have expressed my views generally, I am willing to go +anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll go to Mr. Walker first," said Sprugeon. Now it was +understood that in the borough, among those who really had opinions +of their own, Mr. Walker the old attorney stood first as a Liberal, +and Dr. Tempest the old rector first as a Conservative.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see your Lordship in the town which gives you its +name," said Mr. Walker, who was a hale old gentleman with +silvery-white hair, over seventy years of age. "I proposed your +father for this borough on, I think, six or seven different +occasions. They used to go in and out then whenever they changed +their offices."</p> + +<p>"We hope you'll propose Lord Silverbridge now," said Mr. Sprugeon.</p> + +<p>"Oh; well;—yes. He's his father's son, and I never knew anything but +good of the family. I wish you were going to sit on the same side, my +Lord."</p> + +<p>"Times are changed a little, perhaps," said his Lordship.</p> + +<p>"The matter is not to be discussed now," said the old attorney. "I +understand that. Only I hope you'll excuse me if I say that a man +ought to get up very early in the morning if he means to see further +into politics than your father."</p> + +<p>"Very early indeed," said Mr. Du Boung, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I'll propose you, my Lord. I need not wish you success, because +there is no one to stand against you."</p> + +<p>Then they went to Dr. Tempest, who was also an old man. "Yes, my +Lord, I shall be proud to second you," said the rector. "I didn't +think that I should ever do that to one of your name in +Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I hope you think I've made a change for the better," said the +candidate.</p> + +<p>"You've come over to my school of course, and I suppose I am bound to +think that a change for the better. Nevertheless I have a kind of +idea that certain people ought to be Tories and that other certain +people ought to be Whigs. What does your father say about it?"</p> + +<p>"My father wishes me to be in the House, and that he has not +quarrelled with me you may know by the fact that had there been a +contest he would have paid my expenses."</p> + +<p>"A father generally has to do that whether he approves of what his +son is about or not," said the caustic old gentleman.</p> + +<p>There was nothing else to be done. They all went back to the hotel, +and Mr. Sprugeon with Mr. Sprout and the landlord drank a glass of +sherry at the candidate's expense, wishing him political long life +and prosperity. There was no one else whom it was thought necessary +that the candidate should visit, and the next day he returned to town +with the understanding that on the day appointed in the next week he +should come back again to be elected.</p> + +<p>And on the day appointed the two young men again went to +Silverbridge, and after he had been declared duly elected, the new +Member of Parliament made his first speech. There was a meeting in +the town-hall and many were assembled anxious to hear,—not the lad's +opinions, for which probably nobody cared much,—but the tone of his +voice and to see his manner. Of what sort was the eldest son of the +man of whom the neighbourhood had been so proud? For the county was +in truth proud of their Duke. Of this son whom they had now made a +Member of Parliament they at present only knew that he had been sent +away from Oxford,—not so very long ago,—for painting the Dean's +house scarlet. The speech was not very brilliant. He told them that +he was very much obliged to them for the honour they had done him. +Though he could not follow exactly his father's political +opinions,—he would always have before his eyes his father's +political honesty and independence. He broke down two or three times +and blushed, and repeated himself, and knocked his words a great deal +too quickly one on the top of another. But it was taken very well, +and was better than was expected. When it was over he wrote a line to +the Duke.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Father</span>,</p> + +<p>I am Member of Parliament for Silverbridge,—as you used +to be in the days which I can first remember. I hope you +won't think that it does not make me unhappy to have +differed from you. Indeed it does. I don't think that +anybody has ever done so well in politics as you have. But +when a man does take up an opinion I don't see how he can +help himself. Of course I could have kept myself +quiet;—but then you wished me to be in the House. They +were all very civil to me at Silverbridge, but there was +very little said.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate Son,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c15" id="c15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> +<h3>The Duke Receives a Letter,—and Writes One<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The Duke, when he received Mrs. Finn's note, demanding an interview, +thought much upon the matter before he replied. She had made her +demand as though the Duke had been no more than any other gentleman, +almost as though she had a right to call upon him to wait upon her. +He understood and admired the courage of this;—but nevertheless he +would not go to her. He had trusted her with that which of all things +was the most sacred to him, and she had deceived him! He wrote to her +as follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>The Duke of Omnium presents his compliments to Mrs. Finn. +As the Duke thinks that no good could result either to +Mrs. Finn or to himself from an interview, he is obliged +to say that he would rather not do as Mrs. Finn has +requested.</p> + +<p>But for the strength of this conviction the Duke would +have waited upon Mrs. Finn most willingly.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Finn when she received this was not surprised. She had felt sure +that such would be the nature of the Duke's answer; but she was also +sure that if such an answer did come she would not let the matter +rest. The accusation was so bitter to her that she would spare +nothing in defending herself,—nothing in labour and nothing in time. +She would make him know that she was in earnest. As she could not +succeed in getting into his presence she must do this by letter,—and +she wrote her letter, taking two days to think of her words.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">May 18, 18—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Duke of Omnium</span>,</p> + +<p>As you will not come to me, I must trouble your Grace to +read what I fear will be a long letter. For it is +absolutely necessary that I should explain my conduct to +you. That you have condemned me I am sure you will not +deny;—nor that you have punished me as far as the power +of punishment was in your hands. If I can succeed in +making you see that you have judged me wrongly, I think +you will admit your error and beg my pardon. You are not +one who from your nature can be brought easily to do this; +but you are one who will certainly do it if you can be +made to feel that by not doing so you would be unjust. I +am myself so clear as to my own rectitude of purpose and +conduct, and am so well aware of your perspicuity, that I +venture to believe that if you will read this letter I +shall convince you.</p> + +<p>Before I go any further I will confess that the matter is +one,—I was going to say almost of life and death to me. +Circumstances, not of my own seeking, have for some years +past thrown me so closely into intercourse with your +family that now to be cast off, and to be put on one side +as a disgraced person,—and that so quickly after the +death of her who loved me so dearly and who was so dear to +me,—is such an affront as I cannot bear and hold up my +head afterwards. I have come to be known as her whom your +uncle trusted and loved, as her whom your wife trusted and +loved,—obscure as I was before;—and as her whom, may I +not say, you yourself trusted? As there was much of honour +and very much of pleasure in this, so also was there +something of misfortune. Friendships are safest when the +friends are of the same standing. I have always felt there +was danger, and now the thing I feared has come home to +me.</p> + +<p>Now I will plead my case. I fancy, that when first you +heard that I had been cognisant of your daughter's +engagement, you imagined that I was aware of it before I +went to Matching. Had I been so, I should have been guilty +of that treachery of which you accuse me. I did know +nothing of it till Lady Mary told me on the day before I +left Matching. That she should tell me was natural enough. +Her mother had known it, and for the moment,—if I am not +assuming too much in saying so,—I was filling her +mother's place. But, in reference to you, I could not +exercise the discretion which a mother might have used, +and I told her at once, most decidedly, that you must be +made acquainted with the fact.</p> + +<p>Then Lady Mary expressed to me her wish,—not that this +matter should be kept any longer from you, for that it +should be told she was as anxious as I was myself,—but +that it should be told to you by Mr. Tregear. It was not +for me to raise any question as to Mr. Tregear's fitness +or unfitness,—as to which indeed I could know nothing. +All I could do was to say that if Mr. Tregear would make +the communication at once, I should feel that I had done +my duty. The upshot was that Mr. Tregear came to me +immediately on my return to London, and agreeing with me +that it was imperative that you be informed, went to you +and did inform you. In all of that, if I have told the +story truly, where has been my offence? I suppose you will +believe me, but your daughter can give evidence as to +every word that I have written.</p> + +<p>I think that you have got it into your mind that I have +befriended Mr. Tregear's suit, and that, having received +this impression, you hold it with the tenacity which is +usual to you. There never was a greater mistake. I went to +Matching as the friend of my dear friend;—but I stayed +there at your request, as your friend. Had I been, when +you asked me to do so, a participator in that secret I +could not have honestly remained in the position you +assigned to me. Had I done so, I should have deserved your +ill opinion. As it is I have not deserved it, and your +condemnation of me has been altogether unjust. Should I +not now receive from you a full withdrawal of all charge +against me, I shall be driven to think that after all the +insight which circumstances have given me into your +character, I have nevertheless been mistaken in the +reading of it.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I remain,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">Dear Duke of Omnium,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Yours truly,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">M. Finn</span>.</p> + +<p>I find on looking over my letter that I must add one word +further. It might seem that I am asking for a return of +your friendship. Such is not my purpose. Neither can you +forget that you have accused me,—nor can I. What I expect +is that you should tell me that you in your conduct to me +have been wrong and that I in mine to you have been right. +I must be enabled to feel that the separation between us +has come from injury done to me, and not by me.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>He did read the letter more than once, and read it with tingling +ears, and hot cheeks, and a knitted brow. As the letter went on, and +as the woman's sense of wrong grew hot from her own telling of her +own story, her words became stronger and still stronger, till at last +they were almost insolent in their strength. Were it not that they +came from one who did think herself to have been wronged, then +certainly they would be insolent. A sense of injury, a burning +conviction of wrong sustained, will justify language which otherwise +would be unbearable. The Duke felt that, and though his ears were +tingling and his brow knitted, he could have forgiven the language, +if only he could have admitted the argument. He understood every word +of it. When she spoke of tenacity she intended to charge him with +obstinacy. Though she had dwelt but lightly on her own services she +had made her thoughts on the matter clear enough. "I, Mrs. Finn, who +am nobody, have done much to succour and assist you, the Duke of +Omnium; and this is the return which I have received!" And then she +told him to his face that unless he did something which it would be +impossible that he should do, she would revoke her opinion of his +honesty! He tried to persuade himself that her opinion about his +honesty was nothing to him;—but he failed. Her opinion was very much +to him. Though in his anger he had determined to throw her off from +him, he knew her to be one whose good opinion was worth having.</p> + +<p>Not a word of overt accusation had been made against his wife. Every +allusion to her was full of love. But yet how heavy a charge was +really made! That such a secret should be kept from him, the father, +was acknowledged to be a heinous fault;—but the wife had known the +secret and had kept it from him, the father! And then how wretched a +thing it was for him that any one should dare to write to him about +the wife that had been taken away from him! In spite of all her +faults her name was so holy to him that it had never once passed his +lips since her death, except in low whispers to himself,—low +whispers made in the perfect, double-guarded seclusion of his own +chamber. "Cora, Cora," he had murmured, so that the sense of the +sound and not the sound itself had come to him from his own lips. And +now this woman wrote to him about her freely, as though there were +nothing sacred, no religion in the memory of her.</p> + +<p>"It was not for me to raise any question as to Mr. Tregear's +fitness." Was it not palpable to all the world that he was unfit? +Unfit! How could a man be more unfit? He was asking for the hand of +one who was second only to royalty—who was possessed of everything, +who was beautiful, well-born, rich, who was the daughter of the Duke +of Omnium, and he had absolutely nothing of his own to offer.</p> + +<p>But it was necessary that he should at last come to the consideration +of the actual point as to which she had written to him so forcibly. +He tried to set himself to the task in perfect honesty. He certainly +had condemned her. He had condemned her and had no doubt punished her +to the extent of his power. And if he could be brought to see that he +had done this unjustly, then certainly must he beg her pardon. And +when he considered it all, he had to own that her intimacy with his +uncle and his wife had not been so much of her seeking as of theirs. +It grieved him now that it should have been so, but so it was. And +after all this,—after the affectionate surrender of herself to his +wife's caprices which the woman had made,—he had turned upon her and +driven her away with ignominy. That was all true. As he thought of it +he became hot, and was conscious of a quivering feeling round his +heart. These were bonds indeed; but they were bonds of such a nature +as to be capable of being rescinded and cut away altogether by +absolute bad conduct. If he could make it good to himself that in a +matter of such magnitude as the charge of his daughter she had been +untrue to him and had leagued herself against him, with an unworthy +lover, then, then—all bonds would be rescinded! Then would his wrath +be altogether justified! Then would it have been impossible that he +should have done aught else than cast her out! As he thought of this +he felt sure that she had betrayed him! How great would be the +ignominy to him should he be driven to own to himself that she had +not betrayed him! "There should not have been a moment," he said to +himself over and over again,—"not a moment!" Yes;—she certainly had +betrayed him.</p> + +<p>There might still be safety for him in that confident assertion of +"not a moment;" but had there been anything of that conspiracy of +which he had certainly at first judged her to be guilty? She had told +her story, and had then appealed to Lady Mary for evidence. After +five minutes of perfect stillness,—but five minutes of misery, five +minutes during which great beads of perspiration broke out from him +and stood upon his brow, he had to confess to himself that he did not +want any evidence. He did believe her story. When he allowed himself +to think she had been in league with Tregear he had wronged her. He +wiped away the beads from his brow, and again repeated to himself +those words which were now his only comfort, "There should not have +been a moment;—not a moment!"</p> + +<p>It was thus and only thus that he was enabled to assure himself that +there need be no acknowledgment of wrong done on his part. Having +settled this in his own mind he forced himself to attend a meeting at +which his assistance had been asked as to a complex question on Law +Reform. The Duke endeavoured to give himself up entirely to the +matter; but through it all there was the picture before him of Mrs. +Finn waiting for an answer to her letter. If he should confirm +himself in his opinion that he had been right, then would any answer +be necessary? He might just acknowledge the letter, after the fashion +which has come up in official life, than which silence is an insult +much more bearable. But he did not wish to insult, nor to punish her +further. He would willingly have withdrawn the punishment under which +she was groaning could he have done so without self-abasement. Or he +might write as she had done,—advocating his own cause with all his +strength, using that last one strong argument,—"there should not +have been a moment." But there would be something repulsive to his +personal dignity in the continued correspondence which this would +produce. "The Duke of Omnium regrets to say, in answer to Mrs. Finn's +letter, that he thinks no good can be attained by a prolonged +correspondence." Such, or of such kind, he thought must be his +answer. But would this be a fair return for the solicitude shown by +her to his uncle, for the love which had made her so patient a friend +to his wife, for the nobility of her own conduct in many things? Then +his mind reverted to certain jewels,—supposed to be of enormous +value,—which were still in his possession though they were the +property of this woman. They had been left to her by his uncle, and +she had obstinately refused to take them. Now they were lying packed +in the cellars of certain bankers,—but still they were in his +custody. What should he now do in this matter? Hitherto, perhaps once +in every six months, he had notified to her that he was keeping them +as her curator, and she had always repeated that it was a charge from +which she could not relieve him. It had become almost a joke between +them. But how could he joke with a woman with whom he had quarrelled +after this internecine fashion?</p> + +<p>What if he were to consult Lady Cantrip? He could not do so without a +pang that would be very bitter to him,—but any agony would be better +than that arising from a fear that he had been unjust to one who had +deserved well of him. No doubt Lady Cantrip would see it in the same +light as he had done. And then he would be able to support himself by +the assurance that that which he had judged to be right was approved +of by one whom the world would acknowledge to be a good judge on such +a matter.</p> + +<p>When he got home he found his son's letter telling him of the +election at Silverbridge. There was something in it which softened +his heart to the young man,—or perhaps it was that in the midst of +his many discomforts he wished to find something which at least was +not painful to him. That his son and his heir should insist on +entering political life in opposition to him was of course a source +of pain; but, putting that aside, the thing had been done pleasantly +enough, and the young member's letter had been written with some good +feeling. So he answered the letter as pleasantly as he knew +how.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Silverbridge</span>,</p> + +<p>I am glad that you are in Parliament and am glad also that +you should have been returned by the old borough; though I +would that you could have reconciled yourself to adhering +to the politics of your family. But there is nothing +disgraceful in such a change, and I am able to +congratulate you as a father should a son and to wish you +long life and success as a legislator.</p> + +<p>There are one or two things I would ask you to +remember;—and firstly this, that as you have voluntarily +undertaken certain duties you are bound as an honest man +to perform them as scrupulously as though you were paid +for doing them. There was no obligation in you to seek the +post;—but having sought it and acquired it you cannot +neglect the work attached to it without being untrue to +the covenant you have made. It is necessary that a young +member of Parliament should bear this in his mind, and +especially a member who has not worked his way up to +notoriety outside the House, because to him there will be +great facility for idleness and neglect.</p> + +<p>And then I would have you always remember the purport for +which there is a Parliament elected in this happy and free +country. It is not that some men may shine there, that +some may acquire power, or that all may plume themselves +on being the elect of the nation. It often appears to me +that some members of Parliament so regard their success in +life,—as the fellows of our colleges do too often, +thinking that their fellowships were awarded for their +comfort and not for the furtherance of any object as +education or religion. I have known gentlemen who have +felt that in becoming members of Parliament they had +achieved an object for themselves instead of thinking that +they had put themselves in the way of achieving something +for others. A member of Parliament should feel himself to +be the servant of his country,—and like every other +servant, he should serve. If this be distasteful to a man +he need not go into Parliament. If the harness gall him he +need not wear it. But if he takes the trappings, then he +should draw the coach. You are there as the guardian of +your fellow-countrymen,—that they may be safe, that they +may be prosperous, that they may be well governed and +lightly burdened,—above all that they may be free. If you +cannot feel this to be your duty, you should not be there +at all.</p> + +<p>And I would have you remember also that the work of a +member of Parliament can seldom be of that brilliant +nature which is of itself charming; and that the young +member should think of such brilliancy as being possible +to him only at a distance. It should be your first care to +sit and listen so that the forms and methods of the House +may as it were soak into you gradually. And then you must +bear in mind that speaking in the House is but a very +small part of a member's work, perhaps that part which he +may lay aside altogether with the least strain on his +conscience. A good member of Parliament will be good +upstairs in the Committee Rooms, good down-stairs to make +and to keep a House, good to vote, for his party if it may +be nothing better, but for the measures also which he +believes to be for the good of his country.</p> + +<p>Gradually, if you will give your thoughts to it, and above +all your time, the theory of legislation will sink into +your mind, and you will find that there will come upon you +the ineffable delight of having served your country to the +best of your ability.</p> + +<p>It is the only pleasure in life which has been enjoyed +without alloy by your affectionate father,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Omnium</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The Duke in writing this letter was able for a few moments to forget +Mrs. Finn, and to enjoy the work which he had on hand.</p> + + +<p><a name="c16" id="c16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> +<h3>"Poor Boy"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The new member for Silverbridge, when he entered the House to take +the oath, was supported on the right and left by two staunch old +Tories. Mr. Monk had seen him a few minutes previously,—Mr. Monk who +of all Liberals was the firmest and than whom no one had been more +staunch to the Duke,—and had congratulated him on his election, +expressing at the same time some gentle regrets. "I only wish you +could have come among us on the other side," he said.</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't," said the young Lord.</p> + +<p>"I am sure nothing but a conscientious feeling would have separated +you from your father's friends," said the old Liberal. And then they +were parted, and the member for Silverbridge was bustled up to the +table between two staunch Tories.</p> + +<p>Of what else was done on that occasion nothing shall be said here. No +political work was required from him, except that of helping for an +hour or two to crowd the Government benches. But we will follow him +as he left the House. There were one or two others quite as anxious +as to his political career as any staunch old Liberal. At any rate +one other. He had promised that as soon as he could get away from the +House he would go to Belgrave Square and tell Lady Mabel Grex all +about it. When he reached the square it was past seven, but Lady +Mabel and Miss Cassewary were still in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"There seemed to be a great deal of bustle, and I didn't understand +much about it," said the member.</p> + +<p>"But you heard the speeches?" These were the speeches made on the +proposing and seconding of the address.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—Lupton did it very well. Lord George didn't seem to be +quite so good. Then Sir Timothy Beeswax made a speech, and then Mr. +Monk. After that I saw other fellows going away, so I bolted too."</p> + +<p>"If I were a member of Parliament I would never leave it while the +House was sitting," said Miss Cassewary.</p> + +<p>"If all were like that there wouldn't be seats for them to sit upon," +said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"A persistent member will always find a seat," continued the positive +old lady.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that Lord Silverbridge means to do his duty," said Lady +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—I've thought a good deal about it, and I mean to try. As +long as a man isn't called upon to speak I don't see why it shouldn't +be easy enough."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad to hear you say so! Of course after a little time you +will speak. I should so like to hear you make your first speech."</p> + +<p>"If I thought you were there, I'm sure I should not make it at all."</p> + +<p>Just at this period Miss Cassewary, saying something as to the +necessity of dressing, and cautioning her young friend that there was +not much time to be lost, left the room.</p> + +<p>"Dressing does not take me more than ten minutes," said Lady Mabel.</p> + +<p>Miss Cassewary declared this to be nonsense, but she nevertheless +left the room. Whether she would have done so if Lord Silverbridge +had not been Lord Silverbridge, but had been some young man with whom +it would not have been expedient that Lady Mabel should fall in love, +may perhaps be doubted. But then it may be taken as certain that +under such circumstances Lady Mabel herself would not have remained. +She had quite realised the duties of life, had had her little +romance,—and had acknowledged that it was foolish.</p> + +<p>"I do so hope that you will do well," she said, going back to the +parliamentary duties.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall ever do much. I shall never be like my +father."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not."</p> + +<p>"There never was anybody like him. I am always amusing myself, but he +never cared for amusement."</p> + +<p>"You are very young."</p> + +<p>"As far as I can learn he was just as he is now at my age. My mother +has told me that long before she married him he used to spend all his +time in the House. I wonder whether you would mind reading the letter +he wrote me when he heard of my election."</p> + +<p>Then he took the epistle out of his pocket and handed it to Lady +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"He means all that he says."</p> + +<p>"He always does that."</p> + +<p>"And he really hopes that you will put your shoulder to the +wheel;—even though you must do so in opposition to him."</p> + +<p>"That makes no difference. I think my father is a very fine fellow."</p> + +<p>"Shall you do all that he tells you?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—I suppose not;—except that he advises me to hold my tongue. +I think that I shall do that. I mean to go down there, you know, and +I daresay I shall be much the same as others."</p> + +<p>"Has he talked to you much about it?"</p> + +<p>"No;—he never talks much. Every now and then he will give me a +downright lecture, or he will write me a letter like that; but he +never talks to any of us."</p> + +<p>"How very odd."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is odd. He seems to be fretful when we are with him. A good +many things make him unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Your poor mother's death."</p> + +<p>"That first;—and then there are other things. I suppose he didn't +like the way I came to an end at Oxford."</p> + +<p>"You were a boy then."</p> + +<p>"Of course I was very sorry for it,—though I hated Oxford. It was +neither one thing nor another. You were your own master and yet you +were not."</p> + +<p>"Now you must be your own master."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"You must marry, and become a lord of the Treasury. When I was a +child I acted as a child. You know all about that."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. And now I must throw off childish things. You mean that I +mustn't paint any man's house? Eh, Lady Mab."</p> + +<p>"That and the rest of it. You are a legislator now."</p> + +<p>"So is Popplecourt, who took his seat in the House of Lords two or +three months ago. He's the biggest young fool I know out. He couldn't +even paint a house."</p> + +<p>"He is not an elected legislator. It makes all the difference. I +quite agree with what the Duke says. Lord Popplecourt can't help +himself. Whether he's an idle young scamp or not, he must be a +legislator. But when a man goes in for it himself, as you have done, +he should make up his mind to be useful."</p> + +<p>"I shall vote with my party of course."</p> + +<p>"More than that; much more than that. If you didn't care for politics +you couldn't have taken a line of your own." When she said this she +knew that he had been talked into what he had done by Tregear,—by +Tregear, who had ambition, and intelligence, and capacity for forming +an opinion of his own. "If you do not do it for your own sake, you +will for the sake of those who,—who,—who are your friends," she +said at last, not feeling quite able to tell him that he must do it +for the sake of those who loved him.</p> + +<p>"There are not very many I suppose who care about it."</p> + +<p>"Your father."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,—my father."</p> + +<p>"And Tregear."</p> + +<p>"Tregear has got his own fish to fry."</p> + +<p>"Are there none others? Do you think we care nothing about it here?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Cassewary?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—Miss Cassewary! A man might have a worse friend than Miss +Cassewary;—and my father."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose Lord Grex cares a straw about me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he does,—a great many straws. And so do I. Do you think I +don't care a straw about it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should."</p> + +<p>"Because it is my nature to be earnest. A girl comes out into the +world so young that she becomes serious, and steady as it were, so +much sooner than a man does."</p> + +<p>"I always think that nobody is so full of chaff as you are, Lady +Mab."</p> + +<p>"I am not chaffing now in recommending you to go to work in the world +like a man."</p> + +<p>As she said this they were sitting on the same sofa, but with some +space between them. When Miss Cassewary had left the room Lord +Silverbridge was standing, but after a little he had fallen into the +seat, at the extreme corner, and had gradually come a little nearer +to her. Now in her energy she put out her hand, meaning perhaps to +touch lightly the sleeve of his coat, meaning perhaps not quite to +touch him at all. But as she did so he put out his hand and took hold +of hers.</p> + +<p>She drew it away, not seeming to allow it to remain in his grasp for +a moment; but she did so, not angrily, or hurriedly, or with any +flurry. She did it as though it were natural that he should take her +hand and as natural that she should recover it.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I have hardly more than ten minutes left for dressing," she +said, rising from her seat.</p> + +<p>"If you will say that you care about it, you yourself, I will do my +best." As he made this declaration blushes covered his cheeks and +forehead.</p> + +<p>"I do care about it,—very much; I myself," said Lady Mabel, not +blushing at all. Then there was a knock at the door, and Lady Mabel's +maid, putting her head in, declared that my Lord had come in and had +already been some time in his dressing-room. "Good-bye, Lord +Silverbridge," she said quite gaily, and rather more aloud than would +have been necessary, had she not intended that the maid also should +hear her.</p> + +<p>"Poor boy!" she said to herself as she was dressing. "Poor boy!" +Then, when the evening was over she spoke to herself again about him. +"Dear sweet boy!" And then she sat and thought. How was it that she +was so old a woman, while he was so little more than a child? How +fair he was, how far removed from conceit, how capable of being made +into a man—in the process of time! What might not be expected from +him if he could be kept in good hands for the next ten years! But in +whose hands? What would she be in ten years, she who already seemed +to know the town and all its belongings so well? And yet she was as +young in years as he. He, as she knew, had passed his twenty-second +birthday,—and so had she. That was all. It might be good for her +that she should marry him. She was ambitious. And such a marriage +would satisfy her ambition. Through her father's fault, and her +brother's, she was likely to be poor. This man would certainly be +rich. Many of those who were buzzing around her from day to day, were +distasteful to her. From among them she knew that she could not take +a husband, let their rank and wealth be what it might. She was too +fastidious, too proud, too prone to think that things should be with +her as she liked them! This last was in all things pleasant to her. +Though he was but a boy, there was a certain boyish manliness about +him. The very way in which he had grasped at her hand and had then +blushed ruby-red at his own daring, had gone far with her. How +gracious he was to look at! Dear sweet boy! Love him? No;—she did +not know that she loved him. That dream was over. She was sure +however that she liked him.</p> + +<p>But how would it be with him? It might be well for her to become his +wife, but could it be well for him that he should become her husband? +Did she not feel that it would be better for him that he should +become a man before he married at all? Perhaps so;—but then if she +desisted would others desist? If she did not put out her bait would +there not be other hooks,—others and worse? Would not such a one, so +soft, so easy, so prone to be caught and so desirable for the +catching, be sure to be made prey of by some snare?</p> + +<p>But could she love him? That a woman should not marry a man without +loving him, she partly knew. But she thought she knew also that there +must be exceptions. She would do her very best to love him. That +other man should be banished from her very thoughts. She would be +such a wife to him that he should never know that he lacked anything. +Poor boy! Sweet dear boy! He, as he went away to his dinner, had his +thoughts also about her. Of all the girls he knew she was the +jolliest,—and of all his friends she was the pleasantest. As she was +anxious that he should go to work in the House of Commons he would go +to work there. As for loving her! Well;—of course he must marry +someone, and why not Lady Mab as well as any one else?</p> + + +<p><a name="c17" id="c17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3> +<h3>The Derby<br /> </h3> + + +<p>An attendance at the Newmarket Second Spring Meeting had +unfortunately not been compatible with the Silverbridge election. +Major Tifto had therefore been obliged to look after the affair +alone. "A very useful mare," as Tifto had been in the habit of +calling a leggy, thoroughbred, meagre-looking brute named Coalition, +was on this occasion confided to the Major's sole care and judgment. +But Coalition failed, as coalitions always do, and Tifto had to +report to his noble patron that they had not pulled off the event. It +had been a match for four hundred pounds, made indeed by Lord +Silverbridge, but made at the suggestion of Tifto;—and now Tifto +wrote in a very bad humour about it. It had been altogether his +Lordship's fault in submitting to carry two pounds more than Tifto +had thought to be fair and equitable. The match had been lost. Would +Lord Silverbridge be so good as to pay the money to Mr. Green Griffin +and debit him, Tifto, with the share of his loss?</p> + +<p>We must acknowledge that the unpleasant tone of the Major's letter +was due quite as much to the ill-usage he had received in reference +to that journey to Silverbridge, as to the loss of the race. Within +that little body there was a high-mounting heart, and that heart had +been greatly wounded by his Lordship's treatment. Tifto had felt +himself to have been treated like a servant. Hardly an excuse had +even been made. He had been simply told that he was not wanted. He +was apt sometimes to tell himself that he knew on which side his +bread was buttered. But perhaps he hardly knew how best to keep the +butter going. There was a little pride about him which was +antagonistic to the best interests of such a trade as his. Perhaps it +was well that he should inwardly suffer when injured. But it could +not be well that he should declare to such men as Nidderdale, and +Dolly Longstaff, and Popplecourt that he didn't mean to put up with +that sort of thing. He certainly should not have spoken in this +strain before Tregear. Of all men living he hated and feared him the +most. And he knew that no other man loved Silverbridge as did +Tregear. Had he been thinking of his bread-and-butter, instead of +giving way to the mighty anger of his little bosom, he would have +hardly declared openly at the club that he would let Lord +Silverbridge know that he did not mean to stand any man's airs. But +these extravagances were due perhaps to whisky-and-water, and that +kind of intoxication which comes to certain men from momentary +triumphs. Tifto could always be got to make a fool of himself when +surrounded by three or four men of rank who, for the occasion, would +talk to him as an equal. He almost declared that Coalition had lost +his match because he had not been taken down to Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Tifto is in a deuce of a way with you," said Dolly Longstaff to the +young member.</p> + +<p>"I know all about it," said Silverbridge, who had had an interview +with his partner since the race.</p> + +<p>"If you don't take care he'll dismiss you."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge did not care much about this, knowing that words of +wisdom did not ordinarily fall from the mouth of Dolly Longstaff. But +he was more moved when his friend Tregear spoke to him. "I wish you +knew the kind of things that fellow Tifto says behind your back."</p> + +<p>"As if I cared!"</p> + +<p>"But you ought to care."</p> + +<p>"Do you care what every fellow says about you?"</p> + +<p>"I care very much what those say whom I choose to live with me. +Whatever Tifto might say about me would be quite indifferent to me, +because we have nothing in common. But you and he are bound +together."</p> + +<p>"We have a horse or two in common; that's all."</p> + +<p>"But that is a great deal. The truth is he's a nasty, brawling, +boasting, ill-conditioned little reptile."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge of course did not acknowledge that this was true. But he +felt it, and almost repented of his trust in Tifto. But still Prime +Minister stood very well for the Derby. He was second favourite, the +odds against him being only four to one. The glory of being part +owner of a probable winner of the Derby was so much to him that he +could not bring himself to be altogether angry with Tifto. There was +no doubt that the horse's present condition was due entirely to +Tifto's care. Tifto spent in these few days just before the race the +greatest part of his time in the close vicinity of the horse, only +running up to London now and then, as a fish comes up to the surface, +for a breath of air. It was impossible that Lord Silverbridge should +separate himself from the Major,—at any rate till after the Epsom +meeting.</p> + +<p>He had paid the money for the match without a word of reproach to his +partner, but still with a feeling that things were not quite as they +ought to be. In money matters his father had been liberal, but not +very definite. He had been told that he ought not to spend above two +thousand pounds a year, and had been reminded that there was a house +for him to use both in town and in the country. But he had been given +to understand also that any application made to Mr. Morton, if not +very unreasonable, would be attended with success. A solemn promise +had been exacted from him that he would have no dealings with +money-lenders;—and then he had been set afloat. There had been a +rather frequent correspondence with Mr. Morton, who had once or twice +submitted a total of the money paid on behalf of his correspondent. +Lord Silverbridge, who imagined himself to be anything but +extravagant, had wondered how the figures could mount up so rapidly. +But the money needed was always forthcoming, and the raising of +objections never seemed to be carried back beyond Mr. Morton. His +promise to his father about the money-lenders had been scrupulously +kept. As long as ready money can be made to be forthcoming without +any charge for interest, a young man must be very foolish who will +prefer to borrow it at twenty-five per cent.</p> + +<p>Now had come the night before the Derby, and it must be acknowledged +that the young Lord was much fluttered by the greatness of the coming +struggle. Tifto, having seen his horse conveyed to Epsom, had come up +to London in order that he might dine with his partner and hear what +was being said about the race at the Beargarden. The party dining +there consisted of Silverbridge, Dolly Longstaff, Popplecourt, and +Tifto. Nidderdale was to have joined them, but he told them on the +day before, with a sigh, that domestic duties were too strong for +him. Lady Nidderdale,—or if not Lady Nidderdale herself, then Lady +Nidderdale's mother,—was so far potent over the young nobleman as to +induce him to confine his Derby jovialities to the Derby Day. Another +guest had also been expected, the reason for whose non-appearance +must be explained somewhat at length. Lord Gerald Palliser, the +Duke's second son, was at this time at Cambridge,—being almost as +popular at Trinity as his brother had been at Christ Church. It was +to him quite a matter of course that he should see his brother's +horse run for the Derby. But, unfortunately, in this very year a +stand was being made by the University pundits against a practice +which they thought had become too general. For the last year or two +it had been considered almost as much a matter of course that a +Cambridge undergraduate should go to the Derby as that a Member of +Parliament should do so. Against this three or four rigid +disciplinarians had raised their voices,—and as a result, no young +man up at Trinity could get leave to be away on the Derby pretext.</p> + +<p>Lord Gerald raged against the restriction very loudly. He at first +proclaimed his intention of ignoring the college authorities +altogether. Of course he would be expelled. But the order itself was +to his thinking so absurd,—the idea that he should not see his +brother's horse run was so extravagant,—that he argued that his +father could not be angry with him for incurring dismissal in so +excellent a cause. But his brother saw things in a different light. +He knew how his father had looked at him when he had been sent away +from Oxford, and he counselled moderation. Gerald should see the +Derby, but should not encounter that heaviest wrath of all which +comes from a man's not sleeping beneath his college roof. There was a +train which left Cambridge at an early hour, and would bring him into +London in time to accompany his friends to the race-course;—and +another train, a special, which would take him down after dinner, so +that he and others should reach Cambridge before the college gates +were shut.</p> + +<p>The dinner at the Beargarden was very joyous. Of course the state of +the betting in regard to Prime Minister was the subject generally +popular for the night. Mr. Lupton came in, a gentleman well known in +all fashionable circles, parliamentary, social, and racing, who was +rather older than his company on this occasion, but still not so much +so as to be found to be an incumbrance. Lord Glasslough too, and +others joined them, and a good deal was said about the horse. "I +never keep these things dark," said Tifto. "Of course he's an +uncertain horse."</p> + +<p>"Most horses are," said Lupton.</p> + +<p>"Just so, Mr. Lupton. What I mean is, the Minister has got a bit of +temper. But if he likes to do his best I don't think any +three-year-old in England can get his nose past him."</p> + +<p>"For half a mile he'd be nowhere with the Provence filly," said +Glasslough.</p> + +<p>"I'm speaking of a Derby distance, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"That's a kind of thing nobody really knows," said Lupton.</p> + +<p>"I've seen him 'ave his gallops," said the little man, who in his +moments of excitement would sometimes fall away from that exact +pronunciation which had been one of the studies of his life, "and +have measured his stride. I think I know what pace means. Of course +I'm not going to answer for the 'orse. He's a temper, but if things +go favourably, no animal that ever showed on the Downs was more +likely to do the trick. Is there any gentleman here who would like to +bet me fifteen to one in hundreds against the two events,—the Derby +and the Leger?" The desired odds were at once offered by Mr. Lupton, +and the bet was booked.</p> + +<p>This gave rise to other betting, and before the evening was over Lord +Silverbridge had taken three-and-a-half to one against his horse to +such an extent that he stood to lose twelve hundred pounds. The +champagne which he had drunk, and the news that Quousque, the first +favourite, had so gone to pieces that now there was a question which +was the first favourite, had so inflated him that, had he been left +alone, he would almost have wagered even money on his horse. In the +midst of his excitement there came to him a feeling that he was +allowing himself to do just that which he had intended to avoid. But +then the occasion was so peculiar! How often can it happen to a man +in his life that he shall own a favourite for the Derby? The affair +was one in which it was almost necessary that he should risk a little +money.</p> + +<p>Tifto, when he got into his bed, was altogether happy. He had added +whisky-and-water to his champagne, and feared nothing. If Prime +Minister should win the Derby he would be able to pay all that he +owed, and to make a start with money in his pocket. And then there +would be attached to him all the infinite glory of being the owner of +a winner of the Derby. The horse was run in his name. Thoughts as to +great successes crowded themselves upon his heated brain. What might +not be open to him? Parliament! The Jockey Club! The mastership of +one of the crack shire packs! Might it not come to pass that he +should some day become the great authority in England upon races, +racehorses, and hunters? If he could be the winner of a Derby and +Leger he thought that Glasslough and Lupton would snub him no longer, +that even Tregear would speak to him, and that his pal the Duke's son +would never throw him aside again.</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge had bought a drag with all its appendages. There +was a coach, the four bay horses, the harness, and the two regulation +grooms. When making this purchase he had condescended to say a word +to his father on the subject. "Everybody belongs to the four-in-hand +club now," said the son.</p> + +<p>"I never did," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Ah,—if I could be like you!"</p> + +<p>The Duke had said that he would think about it, and then had told Mr. +Morton that he was to pay the bill for this new toy. He had thought +about it, and had assured himself that driving a coach and four was +at present regarded as a fitting amusement for young men of rank and +wealth. He did not understand it himself. It seemed to him to be as +unnatural as though a gentleman should turn blacksmith and make +horseshoes for his amusement. Driving four horses was hard work. But +the same might be said of rowing. There were men, he knew, who would +spend their days standing at a lathe, making little boxes for their +recreation. He did not sympathise with it. But the fact was so, and +this driving of coaches was regarded with favour. He had been a +little touched by that word his son had spoken. "Ah,—if I could be +like you!" So he had given the permission; the drag, horses, harness, +and grooms had come into the possession of Lord Silverbridge; and now +they were put into requisition to take their triumphant owner and his +party down to Epsom. Dolly Longstaff's team was sent down to meet +them half-way. Gerald Palliser, who had come up from Cambridge that +morning, was allowed to drive the first stage out of town to +compensate him for the cruelty done to him by the University pundits. +Tifto, with a cigar in his mouth, with a white hat and a blue veil, +and a new light-coloured coat, was by no means the least happy of the +party.</p> + +<p>How that race was run, and how both Prime Minister and Quousque were +beaten by an outsider named Fishknife, Prime Minister, however, +coming in a good second, the present writer having no aptitude in +that way, cannot describe. Such, however, were the facts, and then +Dolly Longstaff and Lord Silverbridge drove the coach back to London. +The coming back was not so triumphant, though the young fellows bore +their failure well. Dolly Longstaff had lost a "pot of money", +Silverbridge would have to draw upon that inexhaustible Mr. Morton +for something over two thousand pounds,—in regard to which he had no +doubt as to the certainty with which the money would be forthcoming, +but he feared that it would give rise to special notice from his +father. Even the poor younger brother had lost a couple of hundred +pounds, for which he would have to make his own special application +to Mr. Morton.</p> + +<p>But Tifto felt it more than any one. The horse ought to have won. +Fishknife had been favoured by such a series of accidents that the +whole affair had been a miracle. Tifto had these circumstances at his +fingers' ends, and in the course of the afternoon and evening +explained them accurately to all who would listen to him. He had this +to say on his own behalf,—that before the party had left the course +their horse stood first favourite for the Leger. But Tifto was +unhappy as he came back to town, and in spite of the lunch, which had +been very glorious, sat moody and sometimes even silent within his +gay apparel.</p> + +<p>"It was the unfairest start I ever saw," said Tifto, almost getting +up from his seat on the coach so as to address Dolly and Silverbridge +on the box.</p> + +<p>"What the –––– is the good of that?" said +Dolly from the coach-box. "Take your licking and don't squeal."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well. I can take my licking as well as another man. +But one has to look to the causes of these things. I never saw +Peppermint ride so badly. Before he got round the corner I wished I'd +been on the horse myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it was Peppermint's fault a bit," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Well;—perhaps not. Only I did think that I was a pretty good judge +of riding."</p> + +<p>Then Tifto again settled down into silence.</p> + +<p>But though much money had been lost, and a great deal of +disappointment had to be endured by our party in reference to the +Derby, the most injurious and most deplorable event in the day's +history had not occurred yet. Dinner had been ordered at the +Beargarden at seven,—an hour earlier than would have been named had +it not been that Lord Gerald must be at the Eastern Counties Railway +Station at nine <span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span> +An hour and a half for dinner and a cigar +afterwards, and half an hour to get to the railway station would not +be more than time enough.</p> + +<p>But of all men alive Dolly Longstaff was the most unpunctual. He did +not arrive till eight. The others were not there before half-past +seven, and it was nearly eight before any of them sat down. At +half-past eight Silverbridge began to be very anxious about his +brother, and told him that he ought to start without further delay. A +hansom cab was waiting at the door, but Lord Gerald still delayed. He +knew, he said, that the special would not start till half-past nine. +There were a lot of fellows who were dining about everywhere, and +they would never get to the station by the hour fixed. It became +apparent to the elder brother that Gerald would stay altogether +unless he were forced to go, and at last he did get up and pushed the +young fellow out. "Drive like the very devil," he said to the cabman, +explaining to him something of the circumstances. The cabman did do +his best, but a cab cannot be made to travel from the Beargarden, +which as all the world knows is close to St. James's Street, to +Liverpool Street in the City in ten minutes. When Lord Gerald reached +the station the train had started.</p> + +<p>At twenty minutes to ten the young man reappeared at the club. "Why +on earth didn't you take a special for yourself?" exclaimed +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't give me one." After that it was apparent to all of +them that what had just happened had done more to ruffle our hero's +temper than his failure and loss at the races.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have had it happen for any money you could name," said +the elder brother to the younger, as he took him home to Carlton +Terrace.</p> + +<p>"If they do send me down, what's the odds?" said the younger brother, +who was not quite as sober as he might have been.</p> + +<p>"After what happened to me it will almost break the governor's +heart," said the heir.</p> + + +<p><a name="c18" id="c18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> +<h3>One of the Results of the Derby<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the following morning at about eleven Silverbridge and his brother +were at breakfast at an hotel in Jermyn Street. They had slept in +Carlton Terrace, but Lord Gerald had done so without the knowledge of +the Duke. Lord Silverbridge, as he was putting himself to bed, had +made up his mind to tell the story to the Duke at once, but when the +morning came his courage failed him. The two young men therefore +slunk out of the house, and as there was no breakfasting at the +Beargarden they went to this hotel. They were both rather gloomy, but +the elder brother was the more sad of the two. "I'd give anything I +have in the world," he said, "that you hadn't come up at all."</p> + +<p>"Things have been so unfortunate!"</p> + +<p>"Why the deuce wouldn't you go when I told you?"</p> + +<p>"Who on earth would have thought that they'd have been so punctual? +They never are punctual on the Great Eastern. It was an infernal +shame. I think I shall go at once to Harnage and tell him all about +it." Mr. Harnage was Lord Gerald's tutor.</p> + +<p>"But you've been in ever so many rows before."</p> + +<p>"Well,—I've been gated, and once when they'd gated me I came right +upon Harnage on the bridge at King's."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a fellow is he?"</p> + +<p>"He used to be good-natured. Now he has taken ever so many crotchets +into his head. It was he who began all this about none of the men +going to the Derby."</p> + +<p>"Did you ask him yourself for leave?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And when I told him about your owning Prime Minister he got +savage and declared that was the very reason why I shouldn't go."</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell me that."</p> + +<p>"I was determined I would go. I wasn't going to be made a child of."</p> + +<p>At last it was decided that the two brothers should go down to +Cambridge together. Silverbridge would be able to come back to London +the same evening, so as to take his drag down to the Oaks on the +Friday,—a duty from which even his present misery would not deter +him. They reached Cambridge at about three, and Lord Silverbridge at +once called at the Master's lodge and sent in his card. The Master of +Trinity is so great that he cannot be supposed to see all comers, but +on this occasion Lord Silverbridge was fortunate. With much +trepidation he told his story. Such being the circumstances, could +anything be done to moderate the vials of wrath which must doubtless +be poured out over the head of his unfortunate brother?</p> + +<p>"Why come to me?" said the Master. "From what you say yourself, it is +evident that you know that this must rest with the College tutor."</p> + +<p>"I thought, sir, if you would say a word."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it would be right that I should interfere for one +special man, and that a man of special rank?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody thinks that would count for anything. But—"</p> + +<p>"But what?" asked the Master.</p> + +<p>"If you knew my father, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows your father;—every Englishman I mean. Of course I +know your father,—as a public man, and I know how much the country +owes to him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it does. But it is not that I mean. If you knew how this +would,—would,—would break his heart." Then there came a tear into +the young man's eye,—and there was something almost like a tear in +the eye of the old man too. "Of course it was my fault. I got him to +come. He hadn't the slightest intention of staying. I think you will +believe what I say about that, sir."</p> + +<p>"I believe every word you say, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"I got into a row at Oxford. I daresay you heard. There never was +anything so stupid. That was a great grief to my father,—a very +great grief. It is so hard upon him because he never did anything +foolish himself."</p> + +<p>"You should try to imitate him." Silverbridge shook his head. "Or at +least not to grieve him."</p> + +<p>"That is it. He has got over the affair about me. As I'm the eldest +son I've got into Parliament, and he thinks perhaps that all has been +forgotten. An eldest son may, I fancy, be a greater ass than his +younger brother." The Master could not but smile as he thought of the +selection which had been made of a legislator. "But if Gerald is sent +down, I don't know how he'll get over it." And now the tears +absolutely rolled down the young man's face, so that he was forced to +wipe them from his eyes.</p> + +<p>The Master was much moved. That a young man should pray for himself +would be nothing to him. The discipline of the college was not in his +hands, and such prayers would avail nothing with him. Nor would a +brother praying simply for a brother avail much. A father asking for +his son might be resisted. But the brother asking pardon for the +brother on behalf of the father was almost irresistible. But this man +had long been in a position in which he knew that no such prayers +should ever prevail at all. In the first place it was not his +business. If he did anything, it would only be by asking a favour +when he knew that no favour should be granted;—and a favour which he +of all men should not ask, because to him of all men it could not be +refused. And then the very altitude of the great statesman whom he +was invited to befriend,—the position of this Duke who had been so +powerful and might be powerful again, was against any such +interference. Of himself he might be sure that he would certainly +have done this as readily for any Mr. Jones as for the Duke of +Omnium; but were he to do it, it would be said of him that it had +been done because the man was Duke of Omnium. There are positions +exalted beyond the reach of benevolence, because benevolence would +seem to be self-seeking. "Your father, if he were here," said he, +"would know that I could not interfere."</p> + +<p>"And will he be sent down?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know all the circumstances. From your own showing the case +seems to be one of great insubordination. To tell the truth, Lord +Silverbridge, I ought not to have spoken to you on the subject at +all."</p> + +<p>"You mean that I should not have spoken to you."</p> + +<p>"Well; I did not say so. And if you have been indiscreet I can pardon +that. I wish I could have served you; but I fear that it is not in my +power." Then Lord Silverbridge took his leave, and going to his +brother's rooms waited there till Lord Gerald had returned from his +interview with the tutor.</p> + +<p>"It's all up," said he, chucking down his cap, striving to be at his +ease. "I may pack up and go—just where I please. He says that on no +account will he have anything more to do with me. I asked him what I +was to do, and he said that the governor had better take my name off +the books of the college. I did ask whether I couldn't go over to +Maclean."</p> + +<p>"Who is Maclean?"</p> + +<p>"One of the other tutors. But the brute only smiled."</p> + +<p>"He thought you meant it for chaff."</p> + +<p>"Well;—I suppose I did mean to show him that I was not going to be +exterminated by him. He will write to the governor to-day. And you +will have to talk to the governor."</p> + +<p>Yes! As Lord Silverbridge went back that afternoon to London he +thought very much of that talking to the governor! Never yet had he +been able to say anything very pleasant to "the governor." He had +himself been always in disgrace at Eton, and had been sent away from +Oxford. He had introduced Tregear into the family, which of all the +troubles perhaps was the worst. He had changed his politics. He had +spent more money than he ought to have done, and now at this very +moment must ask for a large sum. And he had brought Gerald up to see +the Derby, thereby causing him to be sent away from Cambridge! And +through it all there was present to him a feeling that by no words +which he could use would he be able to make his father understand how +deeply he felt all this.</p> + +<p>He could not bring himself to see the Duke that evening, and the next +morning he was sent for before he was out of bed. He found his father +at breakfast with the tutor's letter before him. "Do you know +anything about this?" asked the Duke very calmly.</p> + +<p>"Gerald ran up to see the Derby, and in the evening missed the +train."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Harnage tells me that he had been expressly ordered not to go to +these races."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he was, sir."</p> + +<p>Then there was silence between them for some minutes. "You might as +well sit down and eat your breakfast," said the father. Then Lord +Silverbridge did sit down and poured himself out a cup of tea. There +was no servant in the room, and he dreaded to ring the bell. "Is +there anything you want?" asked the Duke. There was a small dish of +fried bacon on the table, and some cold mutton on the sideboard. +Silverbridge, declaring that he had everything that was necessary, +got up and helped himself to the cold mutton. Then again there was +silence, during which the Duke crunched his toast and made an attempt +at reading the newspaper. But, soon pushing that aside, he again took +up Mr. Harnage's letter. Silverbridge watched every motion of his +father as he slowly made his way through the slice of cold mutton. +"It seems that Gerald is to be sent away altogether."</p> + +<p>"I fear so, sir."</p> + +<p>"He has profited by your example at Oxford. Did you persuade him to +come to these races?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I did."</p> + +<p>"Though you knew the orders which had been given?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was meant that he should not be away the night."</p> + +<p>"He had asked permission to go to the Derby and had been positively +refused. Did you know that?"</p> + +<p>Silverbridge sat for some moments considering. He could not at first +quite remember what he had known and what he had not known. Perhaps +he entertained some faint hope that the question would be allowed to +pass unanswered. He saw, however, from his father's eye that that was +impossible. And then he did remember it all. "I suppose I did know +it."</p> + +<p>"And you were willing to imperil your brother's position in life, and +my happiness, in order that he might see a horse, of which I believe +you call yourself part owner, run a race?"</p> + +<p>"I thought there would be no risk if he got back the same night. I +don't suppose there is any good in my saying it, but I never was so +sorry for anything in all my life. I feel as if I could go and hang +myself."</p> + +<p>"That is absurd,—and unmanly," said the Duke. The expression of +sorrow, as it had been made, might be absurd and unmanly, but +nevertheless it had touched him. He was severe because he did not +know how far his severity wounded. "It is a great blow,—another +great blow! Races! A congregation of all the worst blackguards in the +country mixed with the greatest fools."</p> + +<p>"Lord Cantrip was there," said Silverbridge; "and I saw Sir Timothy +Beeswax."</p> + +<p>"If the presence of Sir Timothy be an allurement to you, I pity you +indeed. I have nothing further to say about it. You have ruined your +brother." He had been driven to further anger by this reference to +one man whom he respected, and to another whom he despised.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, sir."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say?"</p> + +<p>"Let him be an attaché, or something of that sort."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe it possible that he should pass any examination? I +think that my children between them will bring me to the grave. You +had better go now. I suppose you will want to be—at the races +again." Then the young man crept out of the room, and going to his +own part of the house shut himself up alone for nearly an hour. What +had he better do to give his father some comfort? Should he abandon +racing altogether, sell his share of Prime Minister and Coalition, +and go in hard and strong for committees, debates, and divisions? +Should he get rid of his drag, and resolve to read up parliamentary +literature? He was resolved upon one thing at any rate. He would not +go to the Oaks that day. And then he was resolved on another thing. +He would call on Lady Mab Grex and ask her advice. He felt so +disconsolate and insufficient for himself that he wanted advice from +someone whom he could trust.</p> + +<p>He found Tifto, Dolly Longstaff, and one or two others at the +stables, from whence it was intended that the drag should start. They +were waiting, and rather angry because they had been kept waiting. +But the news, when it came, was very sad indeed. "You wouldn't mind +taking the team down and back yourself; would you, Dolly?" he said to +Longstaff.</p> + +<p>"You aren't going!" said Dolly, assuming a look of much heroic +horror.</p> + +<p>"No;—I am not going to-day."</p> + +<p>"What's up?" asked Popplecourt.</p> + +<p>"That's rather sudden; isn't it?" asked the Major.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; I suppose it is sudden."</p> + +<p>"It's throwing us over a little, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I see. You've got the trap and the horses."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—we've got the trap and the horses," said Dolly, "and I vote we +make a start."</p> + +<p>"As you are not going yourself, perhaps I'd better drive your +horses," said Tifto.</p> + +<p>"Dolly will take the team," said his Lordship.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—decidedly. I will take the team," said Dolly. "There isn't a +deal of driving wanted on the road to Epsom, but a man should know +how to hold his reins." This of course gave rise to some angry words, +but Silverbridge did not stop to hear them.</p> + +<p>The poor Duke had no one to whom he could go for advice and +consolation. When his son left him he turned to his newspaper, and +tried to read it—in vain. His mind was too ill at ease to admit of +political matters. He was greatly grieved by this new misfortune as +to Gerald, and by Lord Silverbridge's propensity to racing.</p> + +<p>But though these sorrows were heavy, there was a sorrow heavier than +these. Lady Cantrip had expressed an opinion almost in favour of +Tregear—and had certainly expressed an opinion in favour of Mrs. +Finn. The whole affair in regard to Mrs. Finn had been explained to +her, and she had told the Duke that, according to her thinking, Mrs. +Finn had behaved well! When the Duke, with an energy which was by no +means customary with him, had asked that question, on the answer to +which so much depended, "Should there have been a moment lost?" Lady +Cantrip had assured him that not a moment had been lost. Mrs. Finn +had at once gone to work, and had arranged that the whole affair +should be told to him, the Duke, in the proper way. "I think she +did," said Lady Cantrip, "what I myself should have done in similar +circumstances."</p> + +<p>If Lady Cantrip was right, then must his apology to Mrs. Finn be +ample and abject. Perhaps it was this feeling which at the moment was +most vexatious to him.</p> + + +<p><a name="c19" id="c19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX</h3> +<h3>"No; My Lord, I Do Not"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Between two and three o'clock Lord Silverbridge, in spite of his +sorrow, found himself able to eat his lunch at his club. The place +was deserted, the Beargarden world having gone to the races. As he +sat eating cold lamb and drinking soda-and-brandy he did confirm +himself in certain modified resolutions, which might be more probably +kept than those sterner laws of absolute renunciation to which he had +thought of pledging himself in his half-starved morning condition. +His father had spoken in very strong language against racing,—saying +that those who went were either fools or rascals. He was sure that +this was exaggerated. Half the House of Lords and two-thirds of the +House of Commons were to be seen at the Derby; but no doubt there +were many rascals and fools, and he could not associate with the +legislators without finding himself among the fools and rascals. He +would,—as soon as he could,—separate himself from the Major. And he +would not bet. It was on that side of the sport that the rascals and +the fools showed themselves. Of what service could betting be to him +whom Providence had provided with all things wanted to make life +pleasant? As to the drag, his father had in a certain measure +approved of that, and he would keep the drag, as he must have some +relaxation. But his great effort of all should be made in the House +of Commons. He would endeavour to make his father perceive that he +had appreciated that letter. He would always be in the House soon +after four, and would remain there,—for, if possible, as long as the +Speaker sat in the chair. He had already begun to feel that there was +a difficulty in keeping his seat upon those benches. The half-hours +there would be so much longer than elsewhere! An irresistible desire +of sauntering out would come upon him. There were men the very sound +of whose voices was already odious to him. There had come upon him a +feeling in regard to certain orators, that when once they had begun +there was no reason why they should ever stop. Words of some sort +were always forthcoming, like spiders' webs. He did not think that he +could learn to take a pleasure in sitting in the House; but he hoped +that he might be man enough to do it, though it was not pleasant. He +would begin to-day, instead of going to the Oaks.</p> + +<p>But before he went to the House he would see Lady Mabel Grex. And +here it may be well to state that in making his resolutions as to a +better life, he had considered much whether it would not be well for +him to take a wife. His father had once told him that when he +married, the house in Carlton Terrace should be his own. "I will be a +lodger if you will have me," said the Duke; "or if your wife should +not like that, I will find a lodging elsewhere." This had been in the +sadness and tenderness which had immediately followed the death of +the Duchess. Marriage would steady him. Were he a married man, Tifto +would of course disappear. Upon the whole he thought it would be good +that he should marry. And, if so, who could be so nice as Lady Mabel? +That his father would be contented with Lady Mab, he was inclined to +believe. There was no better blood in England. And Lady Mabel was +known to be clever, beautiful, and, in her peculiar circumstances, +very wise.</p> + +<p>He was aware, however, of a certain drawback. Lady Mabel as his wife +would be his superior, and in some degree his master. Though not +older she was wiser than he,—and not only wiser but more powerful +also. And he was not quite sure but that she regarded him as a boy. +He thought that she did love him,—or would do so if he asked +her,—but that her love would be bestowed upon him as on an inferior +creature. He was already jealous of his own dignity, and fearful lest +he should miss the glory of being loved by this lovely one for his +own sake,—for his own manhood, and his own gifts and his own +character.</p> + +<p>And yet his attraction to her was so great that now in the day of his +sorrow he could think of no solace but what was to be found in her +company.</p> + +<p>"Not at the Oaks!" she said as soon as he was shown into the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"No;—not at the Oaks. Lord Grex is there, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—that is a matter of course. Why are you a recreant?"</p> + +<p>"The House sits to-day."</p> + +<p>"How virtuous! Is it coming to that,—that when the House sits you +will never be absent?"</p> + +<p>"That's the kind of life I'm going to lead. You haven't heard about +Gerald?"</p> + +<p>"About your brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—you haven't heard?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word. I hope there is no misfortune."</p> + +<p>"But indeed there is,—a most terrible misfortune." Then he told the +whole story. How Gerald had been kept in London, and how he had gone +down to Cambridge,—all in vain; how his father had taken the matter +to heart, telling him that he had ruined his brother; and how he, in +consequence, had determined not to go to the races. "Then he said," +continued Silverbridge, "that his children between them would bring +him to his grave."</p> + +<p>"That was terrible."</p> + +<p>"Very terrible."</p> + +<p>"But what did he mean by that?" asked Lady Mabel, anxious to hear +something about Lady Mary and Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Well; of course what I did at Oxford made him unhappy; and now there +is this affair of Gerald's."</p> + +<p>"He did not allude to your sister?"</p> + +<p>"Yes he did. You have heard of all that. Tregear told you."</p> + +<p>"He told me something."</p> + +<p>"Of course my father does not like it."</p> + +<p>"Do you approve of it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said he—curtly and sturdily.</p> + +<p>"Why not? You like Tregear."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I like Tregear. He is the friend, among men, whom I like +the best. I have only two real friends."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" she asked, sinking her voice very low.</p> + +<p>"He is one;—and you are the other. You know that."</p> + +<p>"I hoped that I was one," she said. "But if you love Tregear so +dearly, why do you not approve of him for your sister?"</p> + +<p>"I always knew it would not do."</p> + +<p>"But why not?"</p> + +<p>"Mary ought to marry a man of higher standing."</p> + +<p>"Of higher rank you mean. The daughters of Dukes have married +commoners before."</p> + +<p>"It is not exactly that. I don't like to talk of it in that way. I +knew it would make my father unhappy. In point of fact he can't marry +her. What is the good of approving of a thing that is impossible?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew your sister. Is she—firm?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed she is."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure that you are."</p> + +<p>"No," said he, after considering awhile; "nor am I. But she is not +like Gerald or me. She is more obstinate."</p> + +<p>"Less fickle perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you choose to call it fickle. I don't know that I am fickle. +If I were in love with a girl I should be true to her."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure. If I were really in love with her I certainly should not +change. It is possible that I might be bullied out of it."</p> + +<p>"But she will not be bullied out of it?"</p> + +<p>"Mary? No. That is just it. She will stick to it if he does."</p> + +<p>"I would if I were she. Where will you find any young man equal to +Frank Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you mean to cut poor Mary out."</p> + +<p>"That isn't a nice thing for you to say, Lord Silverbridge. Frank is +my cousin,—as indeed you are also; but it so happens that I have +seen a great deal of him all my life. And, though I don't want to cut +your sister out, as you so prettily say, I love him well enough to +understand that any girl whom he loves ought to be true to him." So +far what she said was very well, but she afterwards added a word +which might have been wisely omitted. "Frank and I are almost +beggars."</p> + +<p>"What an accursed thing money is," he exclaimed, jumping up from his +chair.</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you at all. It is a very comfortable thing."</p> + +<p>"How is anybody who has got it to know if anybody cares for him?"</p> + +<p>"You must find that out. There is such a thing I suppose as real +sympathy."</p> + +<p>"You tell me to my face that you and Tregear would have been lovers +only that you are both poor."</p> + +<p>"I never said anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"And that he is to be passed on to my sister because it is supposed +that she will have some money."</p> + +<p>"You are putting words into my mouth which I never spoke, and ideas +into my mind which I never thought."</p> + +<p>"And of course I feel the same about myself. How can a fellow help +it? I wish you had a lot of money, I know."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you;—but why?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—I can't explain myself," he said, blushing as was his wont. +"I daresay it wouldn't make any difference."</p> + +<p>"It would make a great difference to me. As it is, having none, and +knowing as I do that papa and Percival are getting things into a +worse mess every day, I am obliged to hope that I may some day marry +a man who has got an income."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said he, still blushing, but frowning at the same +time.</p> + +<p>"You see I can be very frank with a real friend. But I am sure of +myself in this,—that I will never marry a man I do not love. A girl +needn't love a man unless she likes it, I suppose. She doesn't tumble +into love as she does into the fire. It would not suit me to marry a +poor man, and so I don't mean to fall in love with a poor man."</p> + +<p>"But you do mean to fall in love with a rich one?"</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen, Lord Silverbridge. The rich man will at any +rate have to fall in love with me first. If you know of any one you +need not tell him to be too sure because he has a good income."</p> + +<p>"There's Popplecourt. He's his own master, and, fool as he is, he +knows how to keep his money."</p> + +<p>"I don't want a fool. You must do better for me than Lord +Popplecourt."</p> + +<p>"What do you say to Dolly Longstaff?"</p> + +<p>"He would be just the man, only he never would take the trouble to +come out and be married."</p> + +<p>"Or Glasslough?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he is cross, and wouldn't let me have my own way."</p> + +<p>"I can only think of one other;—but you would not take him."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better not mention him. It is no good crowding the list +with impossibles."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of—myself."</p> + +<p>"You are certainly one of the impossibles."</p> + +<p>"Why, Lady Mab?"</p> + +<p>"For twenty reasons. You are too young, and you are bound to oblige +your father, and you are to be wedded to Parliament,—at any rate for +the next ten years. And altogether it wouldn't do,—for a great many +reasons."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you don't like me well enough?"</p> + +<p>"What a question to ask! No; my Lord, I do not. There; that's what +you may call an answer. Don't you pretend to look offended, because +if you do, I shall laugh at you. If you may have your joke surely I +may have mine."</p> + +<p>"I don't see any joke in it."</p> + +<p>"But I do. Suppose I were to say the other thing. Oh, Lord +Silverbridge, you do me so much honour! And now I come to think about +it, there is no one in the world I am so fond of as you. Would that +suit you?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"But it wouldn't suit me. There's papa. Don't run away."</p> + +<p>"It's ever so much past five," said the legislator, "and I had +intended to be in the House more than an hour ago. Good-bye. Give my +love to Miss Cassewary."</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Miss Cassewary is your most devoted friend. Won't you +bring your sister to see me some day?"</p> + +<p>"When she is in town I will."</p> + +<p>"I should so like to know her. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>As he hurried down to the House in a hansom he thought over it all, +and told himself that he feared it would not do. She might perhaps +accept him, but if so, she would do it simply in order that she might +become Duchess of Omnium. She might, he thought, have accepted him +then, had she chosen. He had spoken plainly enough. But she had +laughed at him. He felt that if she loved him, there ought to have +been something of that feminine tremor, of that doubting, hesitating +half-avowal of which he had perhaps read in novels, and which his own +instincts taught him to desire. But there had been no tremor nor +hesitating. "No; my Lord, I do not," she had said when he asked her +to her face whether she liked him well enough to be his wife. "No; my +Lord, I do not." It was not the refusal conveyed in these words which +annoyed him. He did believe that if he were to press his suit with +the usual forms she would accept him. But it was that there should be +such a total absence of trepidation in her words and manner. Before +her he blushed and hesitated and felt that he did not know how to +express himself. If she would only have done the same, then there +would have been an equality. Then he could have seized her in his +arms and sworn that never, never, never would he care for any one but +her.</p> + +<p>In truth he saw everything as it was only too truly. Though she might +choose to marry him if he pressed his request, she would never +subject herself to him as he would have the girl do whom he loved. +She was his superior, and in every word uttered between them showed +that it was so. But yet how beautiful she was;—how much more +beautiful than any other thing he had ever seen!</p> + +<p>He sat on one of the high seats behind Sir Timothy Beeswax and Sir +Orlando Drought, listening, or pretending to listen, to the speeches +of three or four gentlemen respecting sugar, thinking of all this +till half-past seven;—and then he went to dine with the proud +consciousness of having done his duty. The forms and methods of the +House were, he flattered himself, soaking into him gradually,—as his +father had desired. The theory of legislation was sinking into his +mind. The welfare of the nation depended chiefly on sugar. But he +thought that, after all, his own welfare must depend on the +possession of Mab Grex.</p> + + +<p><a name="c20" id="c20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX</h3> +<h3>"Then He Will Come Again"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lady Mabel, when her young lover left her, was for a time freed from +the necessity of thinking about him by her father. He had returned +from the Oaks in a very bad humour. Lord Grex had been very badly +treated by his son, whom he hated worse than any one else in the +world. On the Derby Day he had won a large sum of money, which had +been to him at the time a matter of intense delight,—for he was in +great want of money. But on this day he had discovered that his son +and heir had lost more than he had won, and an arrangement had been +suggested to him that his winnings should go to pay Percival's +losings. This was a mode of settling affairs to which the Earl would +not listen for a moment, had he possessed the power of putting a veto +upon it. But there had been a transaction lately between him and his +son with reference to the cutting off a certain entail under which +money was to be paid to Lord Percival. This money had not yet been +forthcoming, and therefore the Earl was constrained to assent. This +was very distasteful to the Earl, and he came home therefore in a bad +humour, and said a great many disagreeable things to his daughter. +"You know, papa, if I could do anything I would." This she said in +answer to a threat, which he had made often before and now repeated, +of getting rid altogether of the house in Belgrave Square. Whenever +he made this threat he did not scruple to tell her that the house had +to be kept up solely for her welfare. "I don't see why the deuce you +don't get married. You'll have to do it sooner or later." That was +not a pleasant speech for a daughter to hear from her father. "As to +that," she said, "it must come or not as chance will have it. If you +want me to sign anything I will sign it;"—for she had been asked to +sign papers, or in other words to surrender rights;—"but for that +other matter it must be left to myself." Then he had been very +disagreeable indeed.</p> + +<p>They dined out together,—of course with all the luxury that wealth +can give. There was a well-appointed carriage to take them backwards +and forwards to the next square, such as an Earl should have. She was +splendidly dressed, as became an Earl's daughter, and he was +brilliant with some star which had been accorded to him by his +sovereign's grateful minister in return for staunch parliamentary +support. No one looking at them could have imagined that such a +father could have told such a daughter that she must marry herself +out of the way because as an unmarried girl she was a burden.</p> + +<p>During the dinner she was very gay. To be gay was the habit,—we may +almost say the work,—of her life. It so chanced that she sat between +Sir Timothy Beeswax, who in these days was a very great man indeed, +and that very Dolly Longstaff, whom Silverbridge in his irony had +proposed to her as a fitting suitor for her hand.</p> + +<p>"Isn't Lord Silverbridge a cousin of yours?" asked Sir Timothy.</p> + +<p>"A very distant one."</p> + +<p>"He has come over to us, you know. It is such a triumph."</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry to hear it." This, however, as the reader knows, was +a fib.</p> + +<p>"Sorry!" said Sir Timothy. "Surely Lord Grex's daughter must be a +Conservative."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—I am a Conservative because I was born one. I think that +people in politics should remain as they are born,—unless they are +very wise indeed. When men come to be statesmen and all that kind of +thing, of course they can change backwards and forwards."</p> + +<p>"I hope that is not intended for me, Lady Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I don't know enough about it to be personal." That, +however, was again not quite true. "But I have the greatest possible +respect for the Duke, and I think it a pity that he should be made +unhappy by his son. Don't you like the Duke?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes;—in a way. He is a most respectable man; and has been a +good public servant."</p> + +<p>"All our lot are ruined, you know," said Dolly, talking of the races.</p> + +<p>"Who are your lot, Mr. Longstaff?"</p> + +<p>"I'm one myself."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"I'm utterly smashed. Then there's Percival."</p> + +<p>"I hope he has not lost much. Of course you know he's my brother."</p> + +<p>"Oh laws;—so he is. I always put my foot in it. Well;—he has lost a +lot. And so have Silverbridge and Tifto. Perhaps you don't know +Tifto."</p> + +<p>"I have not the pleasure of knowing Mr. Tifto."</p> + +<p>"He is a major. I think you'd like Major Tifto. He's a sort of racing +coach to Silverbridge. You ought to know Tifto. And Tregear is pretty +nearly cleared out."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tregear! Frank Tregear!"</p> + +<p>"I'm told he has been hit very heavy. I hope he's not a friend of +yours, Lady Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he is;—a very dear friend and a cousin."</p> + +<p>"That's what I hear. He's very much with Silverbridge you know."</p> + +<p>"I cannot think that Mr. Tregear has lost money."</p> + +<p>"I hope he hasn't. I know I have. I wish someone would stick up for +me, and say that it was impossible."</p> + +<p>"But that is not Mr. Tregear's way of living. I can understand that +Lord Silverbridge or Percival should lose money."</p> + +<p>"Or me?"</p> + +<p>"Or you, if you like to say so."</p> + +<p>"Or Tifto?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about Mr. Tifto."</p> + +<p>"Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>"Or Major Tifto;—what does it signify?"</p> + +<p>"No;—of course. We inferior people may lose our money just as we +please. But a man who can look as clever as Mr. Tregear ought to win +always."</p> + +<p>"I told you just now that he was a friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"But don't you think that he does look clever?" There could be no +question but that Tregear, when he disliked his company, could show +his dislike by his countenance; and it was not improbable that he had +done so in the presence of Mr. Adolphus Longstaff. "Now tell the +truth, Lady Mabel; does he not look conceited sometimes?"</p> + +<p>"He generally looks as if he knew what he was talking about, which is +more than some other people do."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is a great deal more clever than I am. I know that. But +I don't think even he can be so clever as he looks. 'Or you so +stupid,' that's what you ought to say now."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, Mr. Longstaff, I deny myself the pleasure of saying what +I think."</p> + +<p>When all this was over she was very angry with herself for the +anxiety she had expressed about Tregear. This Mr. Longstaff was, she +thought, exactly the man to report all she had said in the public +room at the club. But she had been annoyed by what she had heard as +to her friend. She knew that he of all men should keep himself free +from such follies. Those others had, as it were, a right to make +fools of themselves. It had seemed so natural that the young men of +her own class should dissipate their fortunes and their reputations +by every kind of extravagance! Her father had done so, and she had +never even ventured to hope that her brother would not follow her +father's example. But Tregear, if he gave way to such follies as +these, would soon fall headlong into a pit from which there would be +no escape. And if he did fall, she knew herself well enough to be +aware that she could not stifle, nor even conceal, the misery which +this would occasion her. As long as he stood well before the world +she would be well able to assume indifference. But were he to be +precipitated into some bottomless misfortunes then she could only +throw herself after him. She could see him marry, and smile,—and +perhaps even like his wife. And while he was doing so, she could also +marry, and resolve that the husband whom she took should be made to +think that he had a loving wife. But were Frank to die,—then must +she fall upon his body as though he had been known by all the world +to be her lover. Something of this feeling came upon her now, when +she heard that he had been betting and had been unfortunate. She had +been unable so to subdue herself as to seem to be perfectly careless +about it. She had begun by saying that she had not believed it;—but +she had believed it. It was so natural that Tregear should have done +as the others did with whom he lived! But then the misfortune would +be to him so terrible,—so irremediable! The reader, however, may as +well know at once that there was not a word of truth in the +assertion.</p> + +<p>After the dinner she went home alone. There were other festivities to +be attended, had she pleased to attend them; and poor Miss Cassewary +was dressed ready to go with her as chaperone;—but Miss Cassewary +was quite satisfied to be allowed to go to bed in lieu of Mrs. +Montacute Jones's great ball. And she had gone to her bedroom when +Lady Mabel went to her. "I am glad you are alone," she said, "because +I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Everything is wrong. Papa says he must give up this house."</p> + +<p>"He says that almost always when he comes back from the races, and +very often when he comes back from the club."</p> + +<p>"Percival has lost ever so much."</p> + +<p>"I don't think my Lord will hamper himself for your brother."</p> + +<p>"I can't explain it, but there is some horrible money complication. +It is hard upon you and me."</p> + +<p>"Who am I?" said Miss Cassewary.</p> + +<p>"About the dearest friend that ever a poor girl had. It is hard upon +you,—and upon me. I have given up everything,—and what good have I +done?"</p> + +<p>"It is hard, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But after all I do not care much for all that. The thing has been +going on so long that one is used to it."</p> + +<p>"What is it then?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—yes;—what is it? How am I to tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Surely you can tell me," said the old woman, putting out her hand so +as to caress the arm of the younger one.</p> + +<p>"I could tell no one else; I am sure of that. Frank Tregear has taken +to gambling,—like the rest of them."</p> + +<p>"Who says so?"</p> + +<p>"He has lost a lot of money at these races. A man who sat next me at +dinner,—one of those stupid do-nothing fools that one meets +everywhere,—told me so. He is one of the Beargarden set, and of +course he knows all about it."</p> + +<p>"Did he say how much?"</p> + +<p>"How is he to pay anything? Of all things that men do this is the +worst. A man who would think himself disgraced for ever if he +accepted a present of money will not scruple to use all his wits to +rob his friend of everything that he has by studying the run of cards +or by watching the paces of some brutes of horses! And they consider +themselves to be fine gentlemen! A real gentleman should never want +the money out of another man's pocket;—should never think of money +at all."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that is to be helped, my dear. You have got to +think of money."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have to think of it, and do think of it; and because I do so +I am not what I call a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"No;—my dear; you're a lady."</p> + +<p>"Psha! you know what I mean. I might have had the feelings of a +gentleman as well as the best man that ever was born. I haven't; but +I have never done anything so mean as gambling. Now I have got +something else to tell you."</p> + +<p>"What is it? You do frighten me so when you look like that."</p> + +<p>"You may well be frightened,—for if this all comes round I shall +very soon be able to dispense with you altogether. His Royal Highness +Lord <span class="nowrap">Silverbridge—"</span></p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"He's next door to a Royal Highness at any rate, and a much more +topping man than most of them. Well then;—His Serene Highness the +heir of the Duke of Omnium has done me the inexpressible honour of +asking me—to marry him."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"You may well say, No. And to tell the truth exactly, he didn't."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you say he did?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he did quite ask me, but he gave me to understand that +he would do so if I gave him any encouragement."</p> + +<p>"Did he mean it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—poor boy! He meant it. With a word;—with a look, he would +have been down there kneeling. He asked me whether I liked him well +enough. What do you think I did?"</p> + +<p>"What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I spared him;—out of sheer downright Christian charity! I said to +myself 'Love your neighbours.' 'Don't be selfish.' 'Do unto him as +you would he should do unto you,'—that is, think of his welfare. +Though I had him in my net, I let him go. Shall I go to heaven for +doing that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Miss Cassewary, who was so much perturbed by the +news she had heard as to be unable to come to any opinion on the +point just raised.</p> + +<p>"Or mayn't I rather go to the other place? From how much +embarrassment should I have relieved my father! What a friend I +should have made for Percival! How much I might have been able to do +for Frank! And then what a wife I should have made him!"</p> + +<p>"I think you would."</p> + +<p>"He'll never get another half so good; and he'll be sure to get one +before long. It is a sort of tenderness that is quite inefficacious. +He will become a prey, as I should have made him a prey. But where is +there another who will treat him so well?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear to hear you speak of yourself in that way."</p> + +<p>"But it is true. I know the sort of girl he should marry. In the +first place she should be two years younger, and four years fresher. +She should be able not only to like him and love him, but to worship +him. How well I can see her! She should have fair hair, and bright +green-gray eyes, with the sweetest complexion, and the prettiest +little dimples;—two inches shorter than me, and the delight of her +life should be to hang with two hands on his arm. She should have a +feeling that her Silverbridge is an Apollo upon earth. To me he is a +rather foolish, but very, very sweet-tempered young man;—anything +rather than a god. If I thought that he would get the fresh young +girl with the dimples then I ought to abstain."</p> + +<p>"If he was in earnest," said Miss Cassewary, throwing aside all this +badinage and thinking of the main point, "if he was in earnest he +will come again."</p> + +<p>"He was quite in earnest."</p> + +<p>"Then he will come again."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will," said Lady Mabel. "I told him that I was too +old for him, and I tried to laugh him out of it. He does not like +being laughed at. He has been saved, and he will know it."</p> + +<p>"But if he should come again?"</p> + +<p>"I shall not spare him again. No;—not twice. I felt it to be hard to +do so once, because I so nearly love him! There are so many of them +who are odious to me, as to whom the idea of marrying them seems to +be mixed somehow with an idea of suicide."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mabel!"</p> + +<p>"But he is as sweet as a rose. If I were his sister, or his servant, +or his dog, I could be devoted to him. I can fancy that his comfort +and his success and his name should be everything to me."</p> + +<p>"That is what a wife ought to feel."</p> + +<p>"But I could never feel him to be my superior. That is what a wife +ought in truth to feel. Think of those two young men and the +difference between them! Well;—don't look like that at me. I don't +often give way, and I dare say after all I shall live to be the +Duchess of Omnium." Then she kissed her friend and went away to her +own room.</p> + + +<p><a name="c21" id="c21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI</h3> +<h3>Sir Timothy Beeswax<br /> </h3> + + +<p>There had lately been a great Conservative reaction in the country, +brought about in part by the industry and good management of +gentlemen who were strong on that side;—but due also in part to the +blunders and quarrels of their opponents. That these opponents should +have blundered and quarrelled, being men active and in earnest, was +to have been expected. Such blunderings and quarrellings have been a +matter of course since politics have been politics, and since +religion has been religion. When men combine to do nothing, how +should there be disagreement? When men combine to do much, how should +there not be disagreement? Thirty men can sit still, each as like the +other as peas. But put your thirty men up to run a race, and they +will soon assume different forms. And in doing nothing, you can +hardly do amiss. Let the doers of nothing have something of action +forced upon them, and they, too, will blunder and quarrel.</p> + +<p>The wonder is that there should ever be in a reforming party enough +of consentaneous action to carry any reform. The reforming or Liberal +party in British politics had thus stumbled,—and stumbled till it +fell. And now there had been a great Conservative reaction! Many of +the most Liberal constituencies in the country had been untrue to +their old political convictions. And, as the result, Lord Drummond +was Prime Minister in the House of Lords,—with Sir Timothy Beeswax +acting as first man in the House of Commons.</p> + +<p>It cannot be denied that Sir Timothy had his good points as a +politician. He was industrious, patient, clear-sighted, intelligent, +courageous, and determined. Long before he had had a seat in the +House, when he was simply making his way up to the probability of a +seat by making a reputation as an advocate, he had resolved that he +would be more than an Attorney-General, more than a judge,—more, as +he thought it, than a Chief Justice; but at any rate something +different. This plan he had all but gained,—and it must be +acknowledged that he had been moved by a grand and manly ambition. +But there were drawbacks to the utility and beauty of Sir Timothy's +character as a statesman. He had no idea as to the necessity or +non-necessity of any measure whatever in reference to the well-being +of the country. It may, indeed, be said that all such ideas were to +him absurd, and the fact that they should be held by his friends and +supporters was an inconvenience. He was not in accord with those who +declare that a Parliament is a collection of windbags which puff, and +blow, and crack to the annoyance of honest men. But to him Parliament +was a debating place, by having a majority in which, and by no other +means, he,—or another,—might become the great man of the day. By no +other than parliamentary means could such a one as he come to be the +chief man. And this use of Parliament, either on his own behalf or on +behalf of others, had been for so many years present to his mind, +that there seemed to be nothing absurd in an institution supported +for such a purpose. Parliament was a club so eligible in its nature +that all Englishmen wished to belong to it. They who succeeded were +acknowledged to be the cream of the land. They who dominated in it +were the cream of the cream. Those two who were elected to be the +chiefs of the two parties had more of cream in their composition than +any others. But he who could be the chief of the strongest party, and +who therefore, in accordance with the prevailing arrangements of the +country, should have the power of making dukes, and bestowing garters +and appointing bishops, he who by attaining the first seat should +achieve the right of snubbing all before him, whether friends or +foes, he, according to the feelings of Sir Timothy, would have gained +an Elysium of creaminess not to be found in any other position on the +earth's surface. No man was more warmly attached to parliamentary +government than Sir Timothy Beeswax; but I do not think that he ever +cared much for legislation.</p> + +<p>Parliamentary management was his forte. There have been various rocks +on which men have shattered their barks in their attempts to sail +successfully into the harbours of parliamentary management. There is +the great Senator who declares to himself that personally he will +have neither friend nor foe. There is his country before him and its +welfare. Within his bosom is the fire of patriotism, and within his +mind the examples of all past time. He knows that he can be just, he +teaches himself to be eloquent, and he strives to be wise. But he +will not bend;—and at last, in some great solitude, though closely +surrounded by those whose love he had neglected to acquire,—he +breaks his heart.</p> + +<p>Then there is he who seeing the misfortune of that great one, tells +himself that patriotism, judgment, industry, and eloquence will not +suffice for him unless he himself can be loved. To do great things a +man must have a great following, and to achieve that he must be +popular. So he smiles and learns the necessary wiles. He is all for +his country and his friends,—but for his friends first. He too must +be eloquent and well instructed in the ways of Parliament, must be +wise and diligent; but in all that he does and all that he says he +must first study his party. It is well with him for a time;—but he +has closed the door of his Elysium too rigidly. Those without +gradually become stronger than his friends within, and so he falls.</p> + +<p>But may not the door be occasionally opened to an outsider, so that +the exterior force be diminished? We know how great is the pressure +of water; and how the peril of an overwhelming weight of it may be +removed by opening the way for a small current. There comes therefore +the Statesman who acknowledges to himself that he will be pregnable. +That, as a Statesman, he should have enemies is a matter of course. +Against moderate enemies he will hold his own. But when there comes +one immoderately forcible, violently inimical, then to that man he +will open his bosom. He will tempt into his camp with an offer of +high command any foe that may be worth his purchase. This too has +answered well; but there is a Nemesis. The loyalty of officers so +procured must be open to suspicion. The man who has said bitter +things against you will never sit at your feet in contented +submission, nor will your friend of old standing long endure to be +superseded by such converts.</p> + +<p>All these dangers Sir Timothy had seen and studied, and for each of +them he had hoped to be able to provide an antidote. Love cannot do +all. Fear may do more. Fear acknowledges a superior. Love desires an +equal. Love is to be created by benefits done, and means gratitude, +which we all know to be weak. But hope, which refers itself to +benefits to come, is of all our feelings the strongest. And Sir +Timothy had parliamentary doctrines concealed in the depths of his +own bosom more important even than these. The Statesman who falls is +he who does much, and thus injures many. The Statesman who stands the +longest is he who does nothing and injures no one. He soon knew that +the work which he had taken in hand required all the art of a great +conjuror. He must be possessed of tricks so marvellous that not even +they who sat nearest to him might know how they were performed.</p> + +<p>For the executive or legislative business of the country he cared +little. The one should be left in the hands of men who liked +work;—of the other there should be little, or, if possible, none. +But Parliament must be managed,—and his party. Of patriotism he did +not know the meaning;—few, perhaps, do, beyond a feeling that they +would like to lick the Russians, or to get the better of the +Americans in a matter of fisheries or frontiers. But he invented a +pseudo-patriotic conjuring phraseology which no one understood but +which many admired. He was ambitious that it should be said of him +that he was far-and-away the cleverest of his party. He knew himself +to be clever. But he could only be far-and-away the cleverest by +saying and doing that which no one could understand. If he could +become master of some great hocus-pocus system which could be made to +be graceful to the ears and eyes of many, which might for awhile seem +to have within it some semi-divine attribute, which should have all +but divine power of mastering the loaves and fishes, then would they +who followed him believe in him more firmly than other followers who +had believed in their leaders. When you see a young woman read a +closed book placed on her dorsal vertebræ,—if you do believe that +she so reads it, you think that she is endowed with a wonderful +faculty! And should you also be made to believe that the same young +woman had direct communication with Abraham, by means of some +invisible wire, you would be apt to do a great many things as that +young woman might tell you. Conjuring, when not known to be +conjuring, is very effective.</p> + +<p>Much, no doubt, of Sir Timothy's power had come from his praiseworthy +industry. Though he cared nothing for the making of laws, though he +knew nothing of finance, though he had abandoned his legal studies, +still he worked hard. And because he had worked harder in a special +direction than others around him, therefore he was enabled to lead +them. The management of a party is a very great work in itself; and +when to that is added the management of the House of Commons, a man +has enough upon his hands even though he neglects altogether the +ordinary pursuits of a Statesman. Those around Sir Timothy were fond +of their party; but they were for the most part men who had not +condescended to put their shoulders to the wheel as he had done. Had +there been any very great light among them, had there been a Pitt or +a Peel, Sir Timothy would have probably become Attorney-General and +have made his way to the bench;—but there had been no Pitt and no +Peel, and he had seen his opening. He had studied the ways of +Members. Parliamentary practice had become familiar to him. He had +shown himself to be ready at all hours to fight the battle of the +party he had joined. And no man knew so well as did Sir Timothy how +to elevate a simple legislative attempt into a good faction fight. He +had so mastered his tricks of conjuring that no one could get to the +bottom of them, and had assumed a look of preternatural gravity which +made many young Members think that Sir Timothy was born to be a king +of men.</p> + +<p>There were no doubt some among his older supporters who felt their +thraldom grievously. There were some lords in the Upper House and +some sons of the lords in the Lower,—with pedigrees going back far +enough for pride,—who found it irksome to recognise Sir Timothy as a +master. No doubt he had worked very hard, and had worked for them. No +doubt he knew how to do the work, and they did not. There was no +other man among them to whom the lead could be conveniently +transferred. But yet they were uncomfortable,—and perhaps a little +ashamed.</p> + +<p>It had arisen partly from this cause, that there had been something +of a counter-reaction at the last general election. When the Houses +met, the Ministers had indeed a majority, but a much lessened +majority. The old Liberal constituencies had returned to an +expression of their real feeling. This reassertion of the progress of +the tide, this recovery from the partial ebb which checks the +violence of every flow, is common enough in politics; but at the +present moment there were many who said that all this had been +accelerated by a feeling in the country that Sir Timothy was hardly +all that the country required as the leader of the country party.</p> + + +<p><a name="c22" id="c22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII</h3> +<h3>The Duke in His Study<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was natural that at such a time, when success greater than had +been expected had attended the efforts of the Liberals, when some +dozen unexpected votes had been acquired, the leading politicians of +that party should have found themselves compelled to look about them +and see how these good things might be utilised. In February they +certainly had not expected to be called to power in the course of the +existing Session. Perhaps they did not expect it yet. There was still +a Conservative majority,—though but a small majority. But the +strength of the minority consisted, not in the fact that the majority +against them was small, but that it was decreasing. How quickly does +the snowball grow into hugeness as it is rolled on,—but when the +change comes in the weather how quickly does it melt, and before it +is gone become a thing ugly, weak, and formless! Where is the +individual who does not assert to himself that he would be more loyal +to a falling than to a rising friend? Such is perhaps the nature of +each one of us. But when any large number of men act together, the +falling friend is apt to be deserted. There was a general feeling +among politicians that Lord Drummond's ministry,—or Sir +Timothy's—was failing, and the Liberals, though they could not yet +count the votes by which they might hope to be supported in power, +nevertheless felt that they ought to be looking to their arms.</p> + +<p>There had been a coalition. They who are well read in the political +literature of their country will remember all about that. It had +perhaps succeeded in doing that for which it had been intended. The +Queen's government had been carried on for two or three years. The +Duke of Omnium had been the head of that Ministry; but during those +years had suffered so much as to have become utterly ashamed of the +coalition,—so much as to have said often to himself that under no +circumstances would he again join any Ministry. At this time there +was no idea of another coalition. That is a state of things which +cannot come about frequently,—which can only be reproduced by men +who have never hitherto felt the mean insipidity of such a condition. +But they who had served on the Liberal side in that coalition must +again put their shoulders to the wheel. Of course it was in every +man's mouth that the Duke must be induced to forget his miseries and +once more to take upon himself the duties of an active servant of the +State.</p> + +<p>But they who were most anxious on the subject, such men as Lord +Cantrip, Mr. Monk, our old friend Phineas Finn, and a few others, +were almost afraid to approach him. At the moment when the coalition +was broken up he had been very bitter in spirit, apparently almost +arrogant, holding himself aloof from his late colleagues,—and since +that, troubles had come to him, which had aggravated the soreness of +his heart. His wife had died, and he had suffered much through his +children. What Lord Silverbridge had done at Oxford was matter of +general conversation, and also what he had not done.</p> + +<p>That the heir of the family should have become a renegade in politics +was supposed greatly to have affected the father. Now Lord Gerald had +been expelled from Cambridge, and Silverbridge was on the turf in +conjunction with Major Tifto! Something, too, had oozed out into +general ears about Lady Mary,—something which should have been kept +secret as the grave. It had therefore come to pass that it was +difficult even to address the Duke.</p> + +<p>There was one man, and but one, who could do this with ease to +himself;—and that man was at last put into motion at the instance of +the leaders of the party. The old Duke of St. Bungay wrote the +following letter to the Duke of Omnium. The letter purported to be an +excuse for the writer's own defalcation. But the chief object of the +writer was to induce the younger Duke once more to submit to +harness.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Longroyston, 3rd June, 187—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Duke of Omnium</span>,</p> + +<p>How quickly the things come round! I had thought that I +should never again have been called upon even to think of +the formation of another Liberal Ministry; and now, though +it was but yesterday that we were all telling ourselves +that we were thoroughly manumitted from our labours by the +altered opinions of the country, sundry of our old friends +are again putting their heads together.</p> + +<p>Did they not do so they would neglect a manifest duty. +Nothing is more essential to the political well-being of +the country than that the leaders on both sides in +politics should be prepared for their duties. But for +myself, I am bound at last to put in the old plea with a +determination that it shall be respected. "Solve +senescentem." It is now, if I calculate rightly, exactly +fifty years since I first entered public life in obedience +to the advice of Lord Grey. I had then already sat five +years in the House of Commons. I assisted humbly in the +emancipation of the Roman Catholics, and have learned by +the legislative troubles of just half a century that those +whom we then invited to sit with us in Parliament have +been in all things our worst enemies. But what then? Had +we benefited only those who love us, would not the sinners +also,—or even the Tories,—have done as much as that?</p> + +<p>But such memories are of no avail now. I write to say that +after so much of active political life, I will at last +retire. My friends when they see me inspecting a pigsty or +picking a peach are apt to remind me that I can still +stand on my legs, and with more of compliment than of +kindness will argue therefore that I ought still to +undertake active duties in Parliament. I can select my own +hours for pigs and peaches, and should I, through the +dotage of age, make mistakes as to the breeding of the one +or the flavour of the other, the harm done will not go +far. In politics I have done my work. What you and others +in the arena do will interest me more than all other +things of this world, I think and hope, to my dying day. +But I will not trouble the workers with the querulousness +of old age.</p> + +<p>So much for myself. And now let me, as I go, say a parting +word to him with whom in politics I have been for many +years more in accord than with any other leading man. As +nothing but age or infirmity would to my own mind have +justified me in retiring, so do I think that you, who can +plead neither age nor infirmity, will find yourself at +last to want self-justification, if you permit yourself to +be driven from the task either by pride or by +indifference.</p> + +<p>I should express my feelings better were I to say by pride +and diffidence. I look to our old friendship, to the +authority given to me by my age, and to the thorough +goodness of your heart for pardon in thus accusing you. +That little men should have ventured to ill-use you, has +hurt your pride. That these little men should have been +able to do so has created your diffidence. Put you to a +piece of work that a man may do, you have less false pride +as to the way in which you may do it than any man I have +known; and, let the way be open to you, as little +diffidence as any. But in this political mill of ours in +England, a man cannot always find the way open to do +things. It does not often happen that an English statesman +can go in and make a great score off his own bat. But not +the less is he bound to play the game and to go to the +wicket when he finds that his time has come.</p> + +<p>There are, I think, two things for you to consider in this +matter, and two only. The first is your capacity, and the +other is your duty. A man may have found by experience +that he is unfitted for public life. You and I have known +men in regard to whom we have thoroughly wished that such +experience had been reached. But this is a matter in which +a man who doubts himself is bound to take the evidence of +those around him. The whole party is most anxious for your +co-operation. If this be so,—and I make you the assurance +from most conclusive evidence,—you are bound to accept +the common consent of your political friends on that +matter. You perhaps think that at a certain period of your +life you failed. They all agree with me that you did not +fail. It is a matter on which you should be bound by our +opinion rather than by your own.</p> + +<p>As to that matter of duty I shall have less difficulty in +carrying you with me. Though this renewed task may be +personally disagreeable to you, even though your tastes +should lead you to some other life,—which I think is not +the case,—still if your country wants you, you should +serve your country. It is a work as to which such a one as +you has no option. Of most of those who choose public +life,—it may be said that were they not there, there +would be others as serviceable. But when a man such as you +has shown himself to be necessary, as long as health and +age permit he cannot recede without breach of manifest +duty. The work to be done is so important, the numbers to +be benefited are so great, that he cannot be justified in +even remembering that he has a self.</p> + +<p>As I have said before, I trust that my own age and your +goodness will induce you to pardon this great +interference. But whether pardoned or not I shall always +be</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your most affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">St. +Bungay.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The Duke,—our Duke,—on reading this letter was by no means pleased +by its contents. He could ill bear to be reminded either of his pride +or of his diffidence. And yet the accusations which others made +against him were as nothing to those with which he charged himself. +He would do this till at last he was forced to defend himself against +himself by asking himself whether he could be other than as God had +made him. It is the last and the poorest makeshift of a defence to +which a man can be brought in his own court! Was it his fault that he +was so thin-skinned that all things hurt him? When some coarse man +said to him that which ought not to have been said, was it his fault +that at every word a penknife had stabbed him? Other men had borne +these buffets without shrinking, and had shown themselves thereby to +be more useful, much more efficacious; but he could no more imitate +them than he could procure for himself the skin of a rhinoceros or +the tusk of an elephant. And this shrinking was what men called +pride,—was the pride of which his old friend wrote! "Have I ever +been haughty, unless in my own defence?" he asked himself, +remembering certain passages of humility in his life,—and certain +passages of haughtiness also.</p> + +<p>And the Duke told him also that he was diffident. Of course he was +diffident. Was it not one and the same thing? The very pride of which +he was accused was no more than that shrinking which comes from the +want of trust in oneself. He was a shy man. All his friends and all +his enemies knew that;—it was thus that he still discoursed with +himself;—a shy, self-conscious, timid, shrinking, thin-skinned man! +Of course he was diffident. Then why urge him on to tasks for which +he was by nature unfitted?</p> + +<p>And yet there was much in his old friend's letter which moved him. +There were certain words which he kept on repeating to himself. "He +cannot be justified in even remembering that he has a self." It was a +hard thing to say of any man, but yet a true thing of such a man as +his correspondent had described. His correspondent had spoken of a +man who should know himself to be capable of serving the State. If a +man were capable, and was sure within his own bosom of his own +capacity, it would be his duty. But what if he were not so satisfied? +What if he felt that any labours of his would be vain, and all +self-abnegation useless? His friend had told him that on that matter +he was bound to take the opinion of others. Perhaps so. But if so, +had not that opinion been given to him very plainly when he was told +that he was both proud and diffident? That he was called upon to +serve his country by good service, if such were within his power, he +did acknowledge freely; but not that he should allow himself to be +stuck up as a ninepin only to be knocked down! There are politicians +for whom such occupation seems to be proper;—and who like it too. A +little office, a little power, a little rank, a little pay, a little +niche in the ephemeral history of the year will reward many men +adequately for being knocked down.</p> + +<p>And yet he loved power, and even when thinking of all this allowed +his mind from time to time to run away into a dreamland of prosperous +political labours. He thought what it would be to be an +all-beneficent Prime Minister, with a loyal majority, with a +well-conditioned unanimous cabinet, with a grateful people, and an +appreciative Sovereign. How well might a man spend himself night and +day, even to death, in the midst of labours such as these.</p> + +<p>Half an hour after receiving the Duke's letter he suddenly jumped up +and sat himself down at his desk. He felt it to be necessary that he +should at once write to his old friend;—and the more necessary that +he should do so at once, because he had resolved that he would do so +before he had made up his mind on the chief subject of that letter. +It did not suit him to say either that he would or that he would not +do as his friend advised him. The reply was made in a very few words. +"As to myself," he said, after expressing his regret that the Duke +should find it necessary to retire from public life—"as to myself, +pray understand that whatever I may do I shall never cease to be +grateful for your affectionate and high-spirited counsels."</p> + +<p>Then his mind recurred to a more immediate and, for the moment, a +heavier trouble. He had as yet given no answer to that letter from +Mrs. Finn, which the reader will perhaps remember. It might indeed be +passed over without an answer; but to him that was impossible. She +had accused him in the very strongest language of injustice, and had +made him understand that if he were unjust to her, then would he be +most ungrateful. He, looking at the matter with his own lights, had +thought that he had been right, but had resolved to submit the +question to another person. As judge in the matter he had chosen Lady +Cantrip, and Lady Cantrip had given judgment against him.</p> + +<p>He had pressed Lady Cantrip for a decided opinion, and she had told +him that she, in the same position, would have done just as Mrs. Finn +had done. He had constituted Lady Cantrip his judge, and had resolved +that her judgment should be final. He declared to himself that he did +not understand it. If a man's house be on fire, do you think of +certain rules of etiquette before you bid him send for the engines? +If a wild beast be loose, do you go through some ceremony before you +caution the wanderers abroad? There should not have been a moment! +But, nevertheless, it was now necessary that he should conform +himself to the opinion of Lady Cantrip, and in doing so he must +apologise for the bitter scorn with which he had allowed himself to +treat his wife's most loyal and loving friend.</p> + +<p>The few words to the Duke had not been difficult, but this letter +seemed to be an Herculean task. It was made infinitely more difficult +by the fact that Lady Cantrip had not seemed to think that this +marriage was impossible. "Young people when they have set their minds +upon it do so generally prevail at last!" These had been her words, +and they discomforted him greatly. She had thought the marriage to be +possible. Had she not almost expressed an opinion that they ought to +be allowed to marry? And if so, would it not be his duty to take his +girl away from Lady Cantrip? As to the idea that young people, +because they have declared themselves to be in love, were to have +just what they wanted,—with that he did not agree at all. Lady +Cantrip had told him that young people generally did prevail at last. +He knew the story of one young person, whose position in her youth +had been very much the same as that of his daughter now, and she had +not prevailed. And in her case had not the opposition which had been +made to her wishes been most fortunate? That young person had become +his wife, his Glencora, his Duchess. Had she been allowed to have her +own way when she was a child, what would have been her fate? Ah what! +Then he had to think of it all. Might she not have been alive now, +and perhaps happier than she had ever been with him? And had he +remained always unmarried, devoted simply to politics, would not the +troubles of the world have been lighter on him? But what had that to +do with it? In these matters it was not the happiness of this or that +individual which should be considered. There is a propriety in +things;—and only by an adherence to that propriety on the part of +individuals can the general welfare be maintained. A King in this +country, or the heir or the possible heir to the throne, is debarred +from what might possibly be a happy marriage by regard to the good of +his subjects. To the Duke's thinking the maintenance of the +aristocracy of the country was second only in importance to the +maintenance of the Crown. How should the aristocracy be maintained if +its wealth were allowed to fall into the hands of an adventurer!</p> + +<p>Such were the opinions with regard to his own order of one who was as +truly Liberal in his ideas as any man in England, and who had argued +out these ideas to their consequences. As by the spread of education +and increase of general well-being every proletaire was brought +nearer to a Duke, so by such action would the Duke be brought nearer +to a proletaire. Such drawing-nearer of the classes was the object to +which all this man's political action tended. And yet it was a +dreadful thing to him that his own daughter should desire to marry a +man so much beneath her own rank and fortune as Frank Tregear.</p> + +<p>He would not allow himself to believe that the young people could +ever prevail; but nevertheless, as the idea of the thing had not +alarmed Lady Cantrip as it had him, it was necessary that he should +make some apology to Mrs. Finn. Each moment of procrastination was a +prick to his conscience. He now therefore dragged out from the +secrecy of some close drawer Mrs. Finn's letter and read it through +to himself once again. Yes—it was true that he had condemned her, +and that he had punished her. Though he had done nothing to her, and +said nothing, and written but very little, still he had punished her +most severely.</p> + +<p>She had written as though the matter was almost one of life and death +to her. He could understand that too. His uncle's conduct to this +woman, and his wife's, had created the intimacy which had existed. +Through their efforts she had become almost as one of the family. And +now to be dismissed, like a servant who had misbehaved herself! And +then her arguments in her own defence were all so good,—if only that +which Lady Cantrip had laid down as law was to be held as law. He was +aware now that she had had no knowledge of the matter till his +daughter had told her of the engagement at Matching. Then it was +evident also that she had sent this Tregear to him immediately on her +return to London. And at the end of the letter she accused him of +what she had been pleased to call his usual tenacity in believing ill +of her! He had been obstinate,—too obstinate in this respect, but he +did not love her the better for having told him of it.</p> + +<p>At last he did put his apology into words.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mrs. Finn</span>,</p> + +<p>I believe I had better acknowledge to you at once that I +have been wrong in my judgment as to your conduct in a +certain matter. You tell me that I owe it to you to make +this acknowledgment,—and I make it. The subject is, as +you may imagine, so painful that I will spare myself, if +possible, any further allusion to it. I believe I did you +a wrong, and therefore I write to ask your pardon.</p> + +<p>I should perhaps apologise also for delay in my reply. I +have had much to think of in this matter, and have many +others also on my mind.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">Believe me to be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">Yours faithfully,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Omnium</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>It was very short, and as being short was infinitely less troublesome +at the moment than a fuller epistle; but he was angry with himself, +knowing that it was too short, feeling that it was ungracious. He +should have expressed a hope that he might soon see her again,—only +he had no such wish. There had been times at which he had liked her, +but he knew that he did not like her now. And yet he was bound to be +her friend! If he could only do some great thing for her, and thus +satisfy his feeling of indebtedness towards her! But all the favours +had been from her to him and his.</p> + + +<p><a name="c23" id="c23"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> +<h3>Frank Tregear Wants a Friend<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Six or seven weeks had passed since Tregear had made his +communication to the Duke, and during that time he had heard not a +word about the girl he loved. He knew, indeed, that she was at The +Horns, and probably had reason to suppose that she was being guarded +there, as it were, out of his reach. This did not surprise him; nor +did he regard it as a hardship. It was to be expected that she should +be kept out of his sight. But this was a state of things to which, as +he thought, there should not be more than a moderate amount of +submission. Six weeks was not a very long period, but it was perhaps +long enough for evincing that respect which he owed to the young +lady's father. Something must be done some day. How could he expect +her to be true to him unless he took some means of showing himself to +be true to her?</p> + +<p>In these days he did not live very much with her brother. He not only +disliked, but distrusted Major Tifto, and had so expressed himself as +to give rise to angry words. Silverbridge had said that he knew how +to take care of himself. Tregear had replied that he had his doubts +on that matter. Then the Member of Parliament had declared that at +any rate he did not intend to be taken care of by Frank Tregear! In +such a state of things it was not possible that there should be any +close confidence as to Lady Mary. Nor does it often come to pass that +the brother is the confidant of the sister's lover. Brothers hardly +like their sisters to have lovers, though they are often well +satisfied that their sisters should find husbands. Tregear's want of +rank and wealth added something to this feeling in the mind of this +brother; so that Silverbridge, though he felt himself to be deterred +by friendship from any open opposition, still was almost inimical. +"It won't do, you know," he had said to his brother Gerald, shaking +his head.</p> + +<p>Tregear, however, was determined to be active in the matter, to make +some effort, to speak to somebody. But how to make an effort,—and to +whom should he speak? Thinking of all this he remembered that Mrs. +Finn had sent for him and had told him to go with his love story to +the Duke. She had been almost severe with him;—but after the +interview was over, he had felt that she had acted well and wisely. +He therefore determined that he would go to Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>She had as yet received no answer from the Duke, though nearly a +fortnight had elapsed since she had written her letter. During that +time she had become very angry. She felt that he was not treating her +as a gentleman should treat a lady, and certainly not as the husband +of her late friend should have treated the friend of his late wife. +She had a proud consciousness of having behaved well to the +Pallisers, and now this head of the Pallisers was rewarding her by +evil treatment. She had been generous; he was ungenerous. She had +been honest; he was deficient even in that honesty for which she had +given him credit. And she had been unable to obtain any of that +consolation which could have come to her from talking of her wrongs. +She could not complain to her husband, because there were reasons +that made it essential that her husband should not quarrel with the +Duke. She was hot with indignation at the very moment in which +Tregear was announced.</p> + +<p>He began by apologising for his intrusion, and she of course assured +him that he was welcome. "After the liberty which I took with you, +Mr. Tregear, I am only too well pleased that you should come to see +me."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he said, "that I was a little rough."</p> + +<p>"A little warm;—but that was to be expected. A gentleman never likes +to be interfered with on such a matter."</p> + +<p>"The position was and is difficult, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"And I am bound to acknowledge the very ready way in which you did +what I asked you to do."</p> + +<p>"And now, Mrs. Finn, what is to come next?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"Something must be done! You know of course that the Duke did not +receive me with any great favour."</p> + +<p>"I did not suppose he would."</p> + +<p>"Nor did I. Of course he would object to such a marriage. But a man +in these days cannot dictate to his daughter what husband she should +marry."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he can dictate to her what husband she shall not marry."</p> + +<p>"Hardly that. He may put impediments in the way; and the Duke will do +so. But if I am happy enough to have won the affections of his +daughter,—so as to make it essential to her happiness that she +should become my wife,—he will give way."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say, Mr. Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"Just what you think."</p> + +<p>"Why should I be made to say what I think on so delicate a matter? Or +of what use would be my thoughts? Remember how far I am removed from +her."</p> + +<p>"You are his friend."</p> + +<p>"Not at all! No one less so!" As she said this she could not hinder +the colour from coming into her face. "I was her friend,—Lady +Glencora's; but with the death of my friend there was an end of all +that."</p> + +<p>"You were staying with him,—at his request. You told me so +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I shall never stay with him again. But all that, Mr. Tregear, is of +no matter. I do not mean to say a word against him;—not a word. But +if you wish to interest any one as being the Duke's friend, then I +can assure you I am the last person in London to whom you should +come. I know no one to whom the Duke is likely to entertain feelings +so little kind as towards me." This she said in a peculiarly solemn +way that startled Tregear. But before he could answer her a servant +entered the room with a letter. She recognised at once the Duke's +handwriting. Here was the answer for which she had been so long +waiting in silent expectation! She could not keep it unread till he +was gone. "Will you allow me a moment?" she whispered, and then she +opened the envelope. As she read the few words her eyes became laden +with tears. They quite sufficed to relieve the injured pride which +had sat so heavy at her heart. "I believe I did you a wrong, and +therefore I ask your pardon!" It was so like what she had believed +the man to be! She could not be longer angry with him. And yet the +very last words she had spoken were words complaining of his conduct. +"This is from the Duke," she said, putting the letter back into its +envelope.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed."</p> + +<p>"It is odd that it should have come while you were here."</p> + +<p>"Is it,—is it,—about Lady Mary?"</p> + +<p>"No;—at least,—not directly. I perhaps spoke more harshly about him +than I should have done. The truth is I had expected a line from him, +and it had not come. Now it is here; but I do not suppose I shall +ever see much of him. My intimacy was with her. But I would not wish +you to remember what I said just now, +if—<span class="nowrap">if—"</span></p> + +<p>"If what, Mrs. Finn? You mean, perhaps, if I should ever be allowed +to call myself his son-in-law. It may seem to you to be arrogant, but +it is an honour which I expect to win."</p> + +<p>"Faint heart,—you know, Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. One has to tell oneself that very often. You will help me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," she said, as though she were much startled. "How can +I help you?"</p> + +<p>"By telling me what I should do. I suppose if I were to go down to +Richmond I should not be admitted."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, I think not;—not to see Lady Mary. Lady Cantrip +would perhaps see you."</p> + +<p>"She is acting the part of—duenna."</p> + +<p>"As I should do also, if Lady Mary were staying with me. You don't +suppose that if she were here I would let her see you in my house +without her father's leave?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose not."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; and therefore I conceive that Lady Cantrip will not +do so either."</p> + +<p>"I wish she were here."</p> + +<p>"It would be of no use. I should be a dragon in guarding her."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would let me feel that you were like a sister to me in +this matter."</p> + +<p>"But I am not your sister, nor yet your aunt, nor yet your +grandmother. What I mean is that I cannot be on your side."</p> + +<p>"Can you not?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Tregear. Think how long I have known these other people."</p> + +<p>"But just now you said that he was your enemy."</p> + +<p>"I did say so; but as I have unsaid it since, you as a gentleman will +not remember my words. At any rate I cannot help you in this."</p> + +<p>"I shall write to her."</p> + +<p>"It can be nothing to me. If you write she will show your letter +either to her father or to Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"But she will read it first."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell how that may be. In fact I am the very last person in +the world to whom you should come for assistance in this matter. If I +gave any assistance to anybody I should be bound to give it to the +Duke."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand that, Mrs. Finn."</p> + +<p>"Nor can I explain it, but it would be so. I shall always be very +glad to see you, and I do feel that we ought to be friends,—because +I took such a liberty with you. But in this matter I cannot help +you."</p> + +<p>When she said this he had to take his leave. It was impossible that +he should further press his case upon her, though he would have been +very glad to extract from her some kindly word. It is such a help in +a difficulty to have somebody who will express even a hope that the +difficulty is perhaps not invincible! He had no one to comfort him in +this matter. There was one dear friend,—as a friend dearer than any +other,—to whom he might go, and who would after some fashion bid him +prosper. Mabel would encourage him. She had said that she would do +so. But in making that promise she had told him that Romeo would not +have spoken of his love for Juliet to Rosaline, whom he had loved +before he saw Juliet. No doubt she had gone on to tell him that he +might come to her and talk freely of his love for Lady Mary,—but +after what had been said before, he felt that he could not do so +without leaving a sting behind. When a man's love goes well with +him,—so well as to be in some degree oppressive to him even by its +prosperity,—when the young lady has jumped into his arms and the +father and mother have been quite willing, then he wants no +confidant. He does not care to speak very much of the matter which +among his friends is apt to become a subject for raillery. When you +call a man Benedick he does not come to you with ecstatic +descriptions of the beauty and the wit of his Beatrice. But no one +was likely to call him Benedick in reference to Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>In spite of his manner, in spite of his apparent self-sufficiency, +this man was very soft within. Less than two years back he had been +willing to sacrifice all the world for his cousin Mabel, and his +cousin Mabel had told him that he was wrong. "It does not pay to +sacrifice the world for love." So cousin Mabel had said, and had +added something as to its being necessary that she should marry a +rich man, and expedient that he should marry a rich woman. He had +thought much about it, and had declared to himself that on no account +would he marry a woman for her money. Then he had encountered Lady +Mary Palliser. There had been no doubt, no resolution after that, no +thinking about it;—but downright love. There was nothing left of +real regret for his cousin in his bosom. She had been right. That +love had been impossible. But this would be possible,—ah, so +deliciously possible,—if only her father and mother would assist! +The mother, imprudent in this as in all things, had assented. The +reader knows the rest.</p> + +<p>It was in every way possible. "She will have money enough," the +Duchess had said, "if only her father can be brought to give it you." +So Tregear had set his heart upon it, and had said to himself that +the thing was to be done. Then his friend the Duchess had died, and +the real difficulties had commenced. From that day he had not seen +his love, or heard from her. How was he to know whether she would be +true to him? And where was he to seek for that sympathy which he felt +to be so necessary to him? A wild idea had come into his head that +Mrs. Finn would be his friend;—but she had repudiated him.</p> + +<p>He went straight home and at once wrote to the girl. The letter was a +simple love-letter, and as such need not be given here. In what +sweetest language he could find he assured her that even though he +should never be allowed to see her or to hear from her, that still he +should cling to her. And then he added this passage: "If your love +for me be what I think it to be, no one can have a right to keep us +apart. Pray be sure that I shall not change. If you change let me +know it;—but I shall as soon expect the heavens to fall."</p> + + +<p><a name="c24" id="c24"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> +<h3>"She Must Be Made to Obey"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lady Mary Palliser down at The Horns had as much liberty allowed to +her as is usually given to young ladies in these very free days. +There was indeed no restriction placed upon her at all. Had Tregear +gone down to Richmond and asked for the young lady, and had Lady +Cantrip at the time been out and the young lady at home, it would +have depended altogether upon the young lady whether she would have +seen her lover or not. Nevertheless Lady Cantrip kept her eyes open, +and when the letter came from Tregear she was aware that the letter +had come. But the letter found its way into Lady Mary's hands and was +read in the seclusion of her own bed-room. "I wonder whether you +would mind reading that," she said very shortly afterwards to Lady +Cantrip. "What answer ought I to make?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think any answer ought to be made, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I must answer him."</p> + +<p>"Would your papa wish it?"</p> + +<p>"I told papa that I would not promise not to write to him. I think I +told him that he should see any letters that there were. But if I +show them to you, I suppose that will do as well."</p> + +<p>"You had better keep your word to him absolutely."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of doing so, if you mean that. I cannot bear to give +him pain, but this is a matter in which I mean to have my own way."</p> + +<p>"Mean to have your own way!" said Lady Cantrip, much surprised by the +determined tone of the young lady.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do. I want you to understand so much! I suppose papa can +keep us from marrying for ever and ever if he pleases, but he never +will make me say that I will give up Mr. Tregear. And if he does not +yield I shall think him cruel. Why should he wish to make me unhappy +all my life?"</p> + +<p>"He certainly does not wish that, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But he will do it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot go against your father, Mary."</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not. I shall write to Mr. Tregear, and then I will +show you what I have written. Papa shall see it too if he pleases. I +will do nothing secret, but I will never give up Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>Lord Cantrip came down to Richmond that evening, and his wife told +him that in her opinion it would be best that the Duke should allow +the young people to marry, and should give them money enough to live +upon. "Is not that a strong order?" asked the Earl. The Countess +acknowledged that it was a "strong order," but suggested that for the +happiness of them all it might as well be done at first as at last.</p> + +<p>The next morning Lady Mary showed her a copy of the reply which she +had already sent to her lover.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Frank</span>,</p> + +<p>You may be quite sure that I shall never give you up. I +will not write more at present because papa does not wish +me to do so. I shall show papa your letter and my answer.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your own most affectionate</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Mary</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Has it gone?" asked the Countess.</p> + +<p>"I put it myself into the pillar letter-box." Then Lady Cantrip felt +that she had to deal with a very self-willed young lady indeed.</p> + +<p>That afternoon Lady Cantrip asked Lady Mary whether she might be +allowed to take the two letters up to town with the express purpose +of showing them to the Duke. "Oh yes," said Mary, "I think it would +be so much the best. Give papa my kindest love, and tell him from me +that if he wants to make his poor little girl happy he will forgive +her and be kind to her in all this." Then the Countess made some +attempt to argue the matter. There were proprieties! High rank might +be a blessing or might be the reverse—as people thought of it;—but +all men acknowledged that much was due to it. "Noblesse oblige." It +was often the case in life that women were called upon by +circumstances to sacrifice their inclinations! What right had a +gentleman to talk of marriage who had no means? These things she said +and very many more, but it was to no purpose. The young lady asserted +that as the gentleman was a gentleman there need be no question as to +rank, and that in regard to money there need be no difficulty if one +of them had sufficient. "But you have none but what your father may +give you," said Lady Cantrip. "Papa can give it us without any +trouble," said Lady Mary. This child had a clear idea of what she +thought to be her own rights. Being the child of rich parents she had +the right to money. Being a woman she had a right to a husband. +Having been born free she had a right to choose one for herself. +Having had a man's love given to her she had a right to keep it. "One +doesn't know which she is most like, her father or her mother," Lady +Cantrip said afterwards to her husband. "She has his cool +determination, and her hot-headed obstinacy."</p> + +<p>She did show the letters to the Duke, and in answer to a word or two +from him explained that she could not take upon herself to debar her +guest from the use of the post. "But she will write nothing without +letting you know it."</p> + +<p>"She ought to write nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"What she feels is much worse than what she writes."</p> + +<p>"If there were no intercourse she would forget him."</p> + +<p>"Ah; I don't know," said the Countess sorrowfully; "I thought so +once."</p> + +<p>"All children are determined as long as they are allowed to have +their own way."</p> + +<p>"I mean to say that it is the nature of her character to be +obstinate. Most girls are prone to yield. They have not character +enough to stand against opposition. I am not speaking now only of +affairs like this. It would be the same with her in any thing. Have +you not always found it so?"</p> + +<p>Then he had to acknowledge to himself that he had never found out +anything in reference to his daughter's character. She had been +properly educated;—at least he hoped so. He had seen her grow up, +pretty, sweet, affectionate, always obedient to him;—the most +charming plaything in the world on the few occasions in which he had +allowed himself to play. But as to her actual disposition, he had +never taken any trouble to inform himself. She had been left to her +mother,—as other girls are left. And his sons had been left to their +tutors. And now he had no control over any of them. "She must be made +to obey like others," he said at last, speaking through his teeth.</p> + +<p>There was something in this which almost frightened Lady Cantrip. She +could not bear to hear him say that the girl must be made to yield, +with that spirit of despotic power under which women were restrained +in years now passed. If she could have spoken her own mind it would +have been to this effect: "Let us do what we can to lead her away +from this desire of hers; and in order that we may do so, let us tell +her that her marriage with Mr. Tregear is out of the question. But if +we do not succeed,—say in the course of the next twelve months,—let +us give way. Let us make it a matter of joy that the young man +himself is so acceptable and well-behaved." That was her idea, and +with that she would have indoctrined the Duke had she been able. But +his was different. "She must be made to obey," he said. And, as he +said it, he seemed to be indifferent as to the sorrow which such +enforced obedience might bring upon his child. In answer to this she +could only shake her head. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Do you +think we ought to yield?"</p> + +<p>"Not at once, certainly."</p> + +<p>"But at last?"</p> + +<p>"What can you do, Duke? If she be as firm as you, can you bear to see +her pine away in her misery?"</p> + +<p>"Girls do not do like that," he said.</p> + +<p>"Girls, like men, are very different. They generally will yield to +external influences. English girls, though they become the most +loving wives in the world, do not generally become so riven by an +attachment as to become deep sufferers when it is disallowed. But +here, I fear, we have to deal with one who will suffer after this +fashion."</p> + +<p>"Why should she not be like others?"</p> + +<p>"It may be so. We will try. But you see what she says in her letter +to him. She writes as though your authority were to be nothing in +that matter of giving up. In all that she says to me there is the +same spirit. If she is firm, Duke, you must yield."</p> + +<p>"Never! She shall never marry him with my sanction."</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to be said, and Lady Cantrip went her way. But +the Duke, though he could say nothing more, continued to think of it +hour after hour. He went down to the House of Lords to listen to a +debate in which it was intended to cover the ministers with heavy +disgrace. But the Duke could not listen even to his own friends. He +could listen to nothing as he thought of the condition of his +children.</p> + +<p>He had been asked whether he could bear to see his girl suffer, as +though he were indifferent to the sufferings of his child. Did he not +know of himself that there was no father who would do more for the +welfare of his daughter? Was he not sure of the tenderness of his own +heart? In all that he was doing was he governed by anything but a +sense of duty? Was it personal pride or love of personal +aggrandisement? He thought that he could assure himself that he was +open to no such charge. Would he not die for her,—or for them,—if +he could so serve them? Surely this woman had accused him most +wrongfully when she had intimated that he could see his girl suffer +without caring for it. In his indignation he determined—for +awhile—that he would remove her from the custody of Lady Cantrip. +But then, where should he place her? He was aware that his own house +would be like a grave to a girl just fit to come out into the world. +In this coming autumn she must go somewhere,—with someone. He +himself, in his present frame of mind, would be but a sorry +travelling companion.</p> + +<p>Lady Cantrip had said that the best hope of escape would lie in the +prospect of another lover. The prescription was disagreeable, but it +had availed in the case of his own wife. Before he had ever seen her +as Lady Glencora McCloskie she had been desirous of giving herself +and all her wealth to one Burgo Fitzgerald, who had been altogether +unworthy. The Duke could remember well how a certain old Lady +Midlothian had first hinted to him that Lady Glencora's property was +very large, and had then added that the young lady herself was very +beautiful. And he could remember how his uncle, the late Duke, who +had seldom taken much trouble in merely human affairs, had said a +word or two—"I have heard a whisper about you and Lady Glencora +McCloskie; nothing could be better." The result had been undoubtedly +good. His Cora and all her money had been saved from a worthless +spendthrift. He had found a wife who he now thought had made him +happy. And she had found at any rate a respectable husband. The idea +when picked to pieces is not a nice idea. "Let us look out for a +husband for this girl, so that we may get her married,—out of the +way of her lover." It is not nice. But it had succeeded in one case, +and why should it not succeed in another?</p> + +<p>But how was it to be done? Who should do it? Whom should he select to +play the part which he had undertaken in that other arrangement? No +worse person could be found than himself for managing such an affair. +When the idea had first been raised he had thought that Lady Cantrip +would do it all; but now he was angry with Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>How was it to be done? How should it be commenced? How had it been +commenced in his own case? He did not in the least know how he had +been chosen. Was it possible that his uncle, who was the proudest man +in England, should have condescended to make a bargain with an old +dowager whom everybody had despised? And in what way had he been +selected? No doubt he had been known to be the heir-apparent to a +dukedom and to ducal revenues. In his case old Lady Midlothian had +begun the matter with him. It occurred to him that in royal marriages +such beginnings are quite common.</p> + +<p>But who should be the happy man? Then he began to count up the +requisite attributes. He must be of high rank, and an eldest son, and +the possessor of, or the heir to, a good estate. He did despise +himself when he found that he put these things first,—as a matter of +course. Nevertheless he did put them first. He was ejecting this +other man because he possessed none of these attributes. He hurried +himself on to add that the man must be of good character, and such as +a young girl might learn to love. But yet he was aware that he added +these things for his conscience's sake. Tregear's character was good, +and certainly the girl loved him. But was it not clear to all who +knew anything of such matters that Mr. Francis Tregear should not +have dared even to think of marrying the daughter of the Duke of +Omnium?</p> + +<p>Who should be the happy man? There were so many who evidently were +unfit. Young Lord Percival was heir to a ruined estate and a beggared +peerage. Lord Glasslough was odious to all men. There were three or +four others of whom he thought that he knew some fatal objection. But +when he remembered Lord Popplecourt there seemed to be no objection +which need be fatal.</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt was a young peer whose father had died two years +since and whose estates were large and unembarrassed. The late lord, +who had been a Whig of the old fashion, had been the Duke's friend. +They had been at Oxford and in the House of Commons together, and +Lord Popplecourt had always been true to his party. As to the son, +the Duke remembered to have heard lately that he was not given to +waste his money. He drove a coach about London a good deal, but had +as yet not done anything very foolish. He had taken his degree at +Oxford, thereby showing himself to be better than Silverbridge. He +had also taken his seat in the House of Lords and had once opened his +mouth. He had not indeed appeared often again; but at Lord +Popplecourt's age much legislation is not to be expected from a young +peer. Then he thought of the man's appearance. Popplecourt was not +specially attractive, whereas Tregear was a very handsome man. But so +also had been Burgo Fitzgerald,—almost abnormally beautiful, while +he, Plantagenet Palliser, as he was then, had been quite as +insignificant in appearance as Lord Popplecourt.</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt might possibly do. But then how should the matter be +spoken of to the young man? After all, would it not be best that he +should trust Lady Cantrip?</p> + + +<p><a name="c25" id="c25"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV</h3> +<h3>A Family Breakfast-Table<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Silverbridge had paid all his Derby losses without any +difficulty. They had not been very heavy for a man in his position, +and the money had come without remonstrance. When asking for it he +was half ashamed of himself, but could still find consolation by +remembering how much worse had befallen many young men whom he knew. +He had never "plunged." In fact he had made the most prudent book in +the world; and had so managed affairs that even now the horse which +had been beaten was worth more than all he had lost and paid. "This +is getting serious," he had said to his partner when, on making out a +rough account, he had brought the Major in a debtor to him of more +than a thousand pounds. The Major had remarked that as he was +half-owner of the horses his partner had good security for the money. +Then something of an unwritten arrangement was made. The "Prime +Minister" was now one of the favourites for the Leger. If the horse +won that race there would be money enough for everything. If that +race were lost, then there should be a settlement by the transfer of +the stud to the younger partner. "He's safe to pull it off," said the +Major.</p> + +<p>At this time both his sons were living with the Duke in London. It +had been found impracticable to send Lord Gerald back to Cambridge. +The doors of Trinity were closed against him. But some interest had +been made in his favour, and he was to be transferred to Oxford. All +the truth had been told, and there had been a feeling that the lad +should be allowed another chance. He could not however go to his new +Alma Mater till after the long vacation. In the meantime he was to be +taken by a tutor down to a cottage on Dartmoor and there be made to +read,—with such amusement in the meantime as might be got from +fishing, and playing cricket with the West Devon county club. "It +isn't a very bright look-out for the summer," his brother had said to +him, "but it's better than breaking out on the loose altogether. You +be a credit to the family and all that sort of thing. Then I'll give +up the borough to you. But mind you stick to the Liberals. I've made +an ass of myself." However in these early days of June Lord Gerald +had not yet got his tutor.</p> + +<p>Though the father and the two young men were living together they did +not see very much of each other. The Duke breakfasted at nine and the +repast was a very simple one. When they failed to appear, he did not +scold,—but would simply be disappointed. At dinner they never met. +It was supposed that Lord Gerald passed his mornings in reading, and +some little attempts were made in that direction. It is to be feared +they did not come to much. Silverbridge was very kind to Gerald, +feeling an increased tenderness for him on account of that Cambridge +mishap. Now they were much together, and occasionally, by a strong +effort, would grace their father's breakfast-table with their +company.</p> + +<p>It was not often that he either reproached them or preached to them. +Though he could not live with them on almost equal terms, as some +fathers can live with their sons, though he could not laugh at their +fun or make them laugh at his wit, he knew that it would have been +better both for him and them if he had possessed this capacity. +Though the life which they lived was distasteful to him,—though +racehorses were an abomination to him, and the driving of coaches a +folly, and club-life a manifest waste of time, still he recognised +these things as being, if not necessary, yet unavoidable evils. To +Gerald he would talk about Oxford, avoiding all allusions to past +Cambridge misfortunes; but in the presence of Silverbridge, whose +Oxford career had been so peculiarly unfortunate, he would make no +allusion to either of the universities. To his eldest son he would +talk of Parliament, which of all subjects would have been the most +congenial had they agreed in politics. As it was he could speak more +freely to him on that than any other matter.</p> + +<p>One Thursday night as the two brothers went to bed on returning from +the Beargarden, at a not very late hour, they agreed that they would +"give the governor a turn" the next morning,—by which they meant +that they would drag themselves out of bed in time to breakfast with +him. "The worst of it is that he never will let them get anything to +eat," said Gerald. But Silverbridge explained that he had taken that +matter into his own hands, and had specially ordered broiled salmon +and stewed kidneys. "He won't like it, you know," said Gerald. "I'm +sure he thinks it wicked to eat anything but toasted bacon before +lunch."</p> + +<p>At a very little after nine Silverbridge was in the breakfast-room, +and there found his father. "I suppose Gerald is not up yet," said +the Duke almost crossly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes he is, sir. He'll be here directly."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him this morning?"</p> + +<p>"No; I haven't seen him. But I know he'll be here. He said he would, +last night."</p> + +<p>"You speak of it as if it were an undertaking."</p> + +<p>"No, not that, sir. But we are not always quite up to time."</p> + +<p>"No; indeed you are not. Perhaps you sit late at the House."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I do," said the young member, with a feeling almost akin +to shame as he remembered all the hours spent at the Beargarden. "I +have had Gerald there in the Gallery sometimes. It is just as well he +should know what is being done."</p> + +<p>"Quite as well."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if he gets a seat some day."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that may be."</p> + +<p>"He won't change as I have done. He'll stick to your side. Indeed I +think he'd do better in the House than I shall. He has more gift of +the gab."</p> + +<p>"That is not the first thing requisite."</p> + +<p>"I know all that, sir. I've read your letter more than once, and I +showed it to him."</p> + +<p>There was something sweet and pleasant in the young man's manner by +which the father could hardly not be captivated. They had now sat +down, and the servant had brought in the unusual accessories for a +morning feast. "What is all that?" asked the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Gerald and I are so awfully hungry of a morning," said the son, +apologising.</p> + +<p>"Well;—it's a very good thing to be hungry;—that is if you can get +plenty to eat. Salmon, is it? I don't think I'll have any myself. +Kidneys! Not for me. I think I'll take a bit of fried bacon. I also +am hungry, but not awfully hungry."</p> + +<p>"You never seem to me to eat anything, sir."</p> + +<p>"Eating is an occupation from which I think a man takes the more +pleasure the less he considers it. A rural labourer who sits on the +ditch-side with his bread and cheese and an onion has more enjoyment +out of it than any Lucullus."</p> + +<p>"But he likes a good deal of it."</p> + +<p>"I do not think he ever over-eats himself,—which Lucullus does. I +have envied a ploughman his power,—his dura ilia,—but never an +epicure the appreciative skill of his palate. If Gerald does not make +haste he will have to exercise neither the one nor the other upon +that fish."</p> + +<p>"I will leave a bit for him, sir,—and here he is. You are twenty +minutes late, Gerald. My father says that bread and cheese and onions +would be better for you than salmon and stewed kidneys."</p> + +<p>"No, Silverbridge;—I said no such thing; but that if he were a +hedger and ditcher the bread and cheese and onions would be as good."</p> + +<p>"I should not mind trying them at all," said Gerald. "Only one never +does have such things for breakfast. Last winter a lot of us skated +to Ely, and we ate two or three loaves of bread and a whole cheese at +a pot-house! And as for beer, we drank the public dry."</p> + +<p>"It was because for the time you had been a hedger and ditcher."</p> + +<p>"Proby was a ditcher I know, when he went right through into one of +the dykes. Just push on that dish, Silverbridge. It's no good you +having the trouble of helping me half-a-dozen times. I don't think +things are a bit the nicer because they cost a lot of money. I +suppose that is what you mean, sir."</p> + +<p>"Something of that kind, Gerald. Not to have money for your +wants;—that must be troublesome."</p> + +<p>"Very bad indeed," said Silverbridge, shaking his head wisely, as a +Member of Parliament might do who felt that something should be done +to put down such a lamentable state of things.</p> + +<p>"I don't complain," said Gerald. "No fellow ever had less right to +complain. But I never felt that I had quite enough. Of course it was +my own fault."</p> + +<p>"I should say so, my boy. But then there are a great many like you. +Let their means be what they may, they never have quite enough. To be +in any difficulty with regard to money,—to owe what you cannot pay, +or even to have to abstain from things which you have told yourself +are necessary to yourself or to those who depend on you,—creates a +feeling of meanness."</p> + +<p>"That is what I have always felt," said Silverbridge. "I cannot bear +to think that I should like to have a thing and that I cannot afford +it."</p> + +<p>"You do not quite understand me, I fear. The only case in which you +can be justified in desiring that which you cannot afford is when the +thing is necessary;—as bread may be, or clothes."</p> + +<p>"As when a fellow wants a lot of new breeches before he has paid his +tailor's bill."</p> + +<p>"As when a poor man," said the Duke impressively, "may long to give +his wife a new gown, or his children boots to keep their feet from +the mud and snow." Then he paused a moment, but the serious tone of +his voice and the energy of his words had sent Gerald headlong among +his kidneys. "I say that in such cases money must be regarded as a +blessing."</p> + +<p>"A ten-pound note will do so much," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"But beyond that it ought to have no power of conferring happiness, +and certainly cannot drive away sorrow. Not though you build palaces +out into the deep, can that help you. You read your Horace, I hope. +'Scandunt eodum quo dominus minæ.'"</p> + +<p>"I recollect that," said Gerald. "Black care sits behind the +horseman."</p> + +<p>"Even though he have a groom riding after him beautiful with +exquisite boots. As far as I have been able to look out into the +<span class="nowrap">world—"</span></p> + +<p>"I suppose you know it as well as anybody," said Silverbridge,—who +was simply desirous of making himself pleasant to the "dear old +governor."</p> + +<p>"As far as my experience goes, the happiest man is he who, being +above the troubles which money brings, has his hands the fullest of +work. If I were to name the class of men whose lives are spent with +the most thorough enjoyment, I think I should name that of barristers +who are in large practice and also in Parliament."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a great grind, sir?" asked Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"A very great grind, as you call it. And there may be the grind and +not the success. But—" He had now got up from his seat at the table +and was standing with his back against the chimney-piece, and as he +went on with his lecture,—as the word "But" came from his lips—he +struck the fingers of one hand lightly on the palm of the other as he +had been known to do at some happy flight of oratory in the House of +Commons. "But it is the grind that makes the happiness. To feel that +your hours are filled to overflowing, that you can barely steal +minutes enough for sleep, that the welfare of many is entrusted to +you, that the world looks on and approves, that some good is always +being done to others,—above all things some good to your +country;—that is happiness. For myself I can conceive none other."</p> + +<p>"Books," suggested Gerald, as he put the last morsel of the last +kidney into his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, books! Cicero and Ovid have told us that to literature only +could they look for consolation in their banishment. But then they +speak of a remedy for sorrow, not of a source of joy. No young man +should dare to neglect literature. At some period of his life he will +surely need consolation. And he may be certain that should he live to +be an old man, there will be none other,—except religion. But for +that feeling of self-contentment, which creates happiness—hard work, +and hard work alone, can give it to you."</p> + +<p>"Books are hard work themselves sometimes," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"As for money," continued the father, not caring to notice this +interruption, "if it be regarded in any other light than as a shield +against want, as a rampart under the protection of which you may +carry on your battle, it will fail you. I was born a rich man."</p> + +<p>"Few people have cared so little about it as you," said the elder +son.</p> + +<p>"And you, both of you, have been born to be rich." This assertion did +not take the elder brother by surprise. It was a matter of course. +But Lord Gerald, who had never as yet heard anything as to his future +destiny from his father, was interested by the statement. "When I +think of all this,—of what constitutes happiness,—I am almost +tempted to grieve that it should be so."</p> + +<p>"If a large fortune were really a bad thing," said Gerald, "a man +could I suppose get rid of it."</p> + +<p>"No;—it is a thing of which a man cannot get rid,—unless by +shameful means. It is a burden which he must carry to the end."</p> + +<p>"Does anybody wish to get rid of it, as Sindbad did of the Old Man?" +asked Gerald pertinaciously. "At any rate I have enjoyed the +kidneys."</p> + +<p>"You assured us just now that the bread and cheese at Ely were just +as good." The Duke as he said this looked as though he knew that he +had taken all the wind out of his adversary's sails. "Though you add +carriage to carriage, you will not be carried more comfortably."</p> + +<p>"A second horse out hunting is a comfort," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Then at any rate don't desire a third for show. But such comforts +will cease to be joys when they become matters of course. That a boy +who does not see a pudding once a year should enjoy a pudding when it +comes I can understand; but the daily pudding, or the pudding twice a +day, is soon no more than simple daily bread,—which will or will not +be sweet as it shall or shall not have been earned." Then he went +slowly to the door, but, as he stood with the handle of it in his +hand, he turned round and spoke another word. "When, hereafter, +Gerald, you may chance to think of that bread and cheese at Ely, +always remember that you had skated from Cambridge."</p> + +<p>The two brothers then took themselves to some remote part of the +house where arrangements had been made for smoking, and there they +finished the conversation. "I was very glad to hear what he said +about you, old boy." This of course came from Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I didn't quite understand him."</p> + +<p>"He meant you to understand that you wouldn't be like other younger +brothers."</p> + +<p>"Then what I have will be taken from you."</p> + +<p>"There is lots for three or four of us. I do agree that if a fellow +has as much as he can spend he ought not to want anything more. +Morton was telling me the other day something about the settled +estates. I sat in that office with him all one morning. I could not +understand it all, but I observed that he said nothing about the +Scotch property. You'll be a laird, and I wish you joy with all my +heart. The governor will tell you all about it before long. He's +going to have two eldest sons."</p> + +<p>"What an unnatural piece of cruelty to me;—and so unnecessary!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"He says that a property is no better than a burden. But I'll try and +bear it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c26" id="c26"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI</h3> +<h3>Dinner at the Beargarden<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The Duke was in the gallery of the House of Commons which is devoted +to the use of peers, and Silverbridge, having heard that his father +was there, had come up to him. It was then about half-past five, and +the House had settled down to business. Prayers had been read, +petitions had been presented, and Ministers had gone through their +course of baiting with that equanimity and air of superiority which +always belongs to a well-trained occupant of the Treasury bench.</p> + +<p>The Duke was very anxious that his son should attend to his +parliamentary duties, but he was too proud a man and too generous to +come to the House as a spy. It was his present habit always to be in +his own place when the Lords were sitting, and to remain there while +the Lords sat. It was not, for many reasons, an altogether +satisfactory occupation, but it was the best which his life afforded +him. He would never, however, come across into the other House, +without letting his son know of his coming, and Lord Silverbridge had +on this occasion been on the look-out, and had come up to his father +at once. "Don't let me take you away," said the Duke, "if you are +particularly interested in your Chief's defence," for Sir Timothy +Beeswax was defending some measure of legal reform in which he was +said to have fallen into trouble.</p> + +<p>"I can hear it up here, you know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Hardly if you are talking to me."</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth it's a matter I don't care much about. They've got +into some mess as to the number of Judges and what they ought to do. +Finn was saying that they had so arranged that there was one Judge +who never could possibly do anything."</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Finn said so it would probably be so, with some little +allowance for Irish exaggeration. He is a clever man, with less of +his country's hyperbole than others;—but still not without his +share."</p> + +<p>"You know him well, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—as one man does know another in the political world."</p> + +<p>"But he is a friend of yours? I don't mean an 'honourable friend,' +which is great bosh; but you know him at home."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—certainly. He has been staying with me at Matching. In +public life such intimacies come from politics."</p> + +<p>"You don't care very much about him then."</p> + +<p>The Duke paused a moment before he answered. "Yes I do;—and in what +I said just now perhaps I wronged him. I have been under obligations +to Mr. Finn,—in a matter as to which he behaved very well. I have +found him to be a gentleman. If you come across him in the House I +would wish you to be courteous to him. I have not seen him since we +came from abroad. I have been able to see nobody. But if ever again I +should entertain my friends at my table, Mr. Finn would be one who +would always be welcome there." This he said with a sadly serious air +as though wishing that his words should be noted. At the present +moment he was remembering that he owed recompense to Mrs. Finn, and +was making an effort to pay the debt. "But your leader is striking +out into unwonted eloquence. Surely we ought to listen to him."</p> + +<p>Sir Timothy was a fluent speaker, and when there was nothing to be +said was possessed of great plenty of words. And he was gifted with +that peculiar power which enables a man to have the last word in +every encounter,—a power which we are apt to call repartee, which is +in truth the readiness which comes from continual practice. You shall +meet two men of whom you shall know the one to be endowed with the +brilliancy of true genius, and the other to be possessed of but +moderate parts, and shall find the former never able to hold his own +against the latter. In a debate, the man of moderate parts will seem +to be greater than the man of genius. But this skill of tongue, this +glibness of speech is hardly an affair of intellect at all. It +is,—as is style to the writer,—not the wares which he has to take +to market, but the vehicle in which they may be carried. Of what +avail to you is it to have filled granaries with corn if you cannot +get your corn to the consumer? Now Sir Timothy was a great vehicle, +but he had not in truth much corn to send. He could turn a laugh +against an adversary;—no man better. He could seize, at the moment, +every advantage which the opportunity might give him. The Treasury +Bench on which he sat and the big box on the table before him were to +him fortifications of which he knew how to use every stone. The +cheers and the jeers of the House had been so measured by him that he +knew the value and force of every sound. Politics had never been to +him a study; but to parliamentary strategy he had devoted all his +faculties. No one knew so well as Sir Timothy how to make +arrangements for business, so that every detail should be troublesome +to his opponents. He could foresee a month beforehand that on a +certain day a Royal concert would make the House empty, and would +generously give that day to a less observant adversary. He knew how +to blind the eyes of members to the truth. Those on the opposite side +of the House would find themselves checkmated by his +astuteness,—when, with all their pieces on the board, there should +be none which they could move. And this to him was Government! It was +to these purposes that he conceived that a great Statesman should +devote himself! Parliamentary management! That, in his mind, was +under this Constitution of ours the one act essential for Government.</p> + +<p>In all this he was very great; but when it might fall to his duty +either to suggest or to defend any real piece of proposed legislation +he was less happy. On this occasion he had been driven to take the +matter in hand because he had previously been concerned in it as a +lawyer. He had allowed himself to wax angry as he endeavoured to +answer certain personal criticisms. Now Sir Timothy was never +stronger than when he simulated anger. His mock indignation was +perhaps his most powerful weapon. But real anger is a passion which +few men can use with judgment. And now Sir Timothy was really angry, +and condescended to speak of our old friend Phineas who had made the +onslaught as a bellicose Irishman. There was an over-true story as to +our friend having once been seduced into fighting a duel, and those +who wished to decry him sometimes alluded to the adventure. Sir +Timothy had been called to order, but the Speaker had ruled that +"bellicose Irishman" was not beyond the latitude of parliamentary +animadversion. Then Sir Timothy had repeated the phrase with +emphasis, and the Duke hearing it in the gallery had made his remark +as to the unwonted eloquence of his son's parliamentary chief.</p> + +<p>"Surely we ought to listen to him," said the Duke. And for a short +time they did listen. "Sir Timothy is not a man I like, you know," +said the son, feeling himself obliged to apologise for his subjection +to such a chief.</p> + +<p>"I never particularly loved him myself."</p> + +<p>"They say that he is a sort of necessity."</p> + +<p>"A Conservative Fate," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; he is so,—so awfully clever! We all feel that we could +not get on without him. When you were in, he was one of your party."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—he was one of us. I have no right to complain of you for +using him. But when you say you could not get on without him, does it +not occur to you that should he,—let us say be taken up to +heaven,—you would have to get on without him."</p> + +<p>"Then he would be,—out of the way, sir."</p> + +<p>"What you mean perhaps is that you do not know how to get rid of +him."</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't pretend to understand much about it; but they all +think that he does know how to keep the party together. I don't think +we are proud of him."</p> + +<p>"Hardly that."</p> + +<p>"He is awfully useful. A man has to look out so sharp to be always +ready for those other fellows! I beg your pardon, sir, but I mean +your side."</p> + +<p>"I understand who the other fellows are."</p> + +<p>"And it isn't everybody who will go through such a grind. A man to do +it must be always ready. He has so many little things to think of. As +far as I can see we all feel that we could not get along very well +without him." Upon the whole the Duke was pleased with what he heard +from his son. The young man's ideas about politics were boyish, but +they were the ideas of a clear-headed boy. Silverbridge had picked up +some of the ways of the place, though he had not yet formed any sound +political opinions.</p> + +<p>Then Sir Timothy finished a long speech with a flowery peroration, in +which he declared that if Parliament were desirous of keeping the +realms of Her Majesty free from the invasions of foreigners it must +be done by maintaining the dignity of the Judicial bench. There were +some clamours at this; and although it was now dinner-time Phineas +Finn, who had been called a bellicose Irishman, was able to say a +word or two. "The Right Honourable gentleman no doubt means," said +Phineas, "that we must carry ourselves with some increased external +dignity. The world is bewigging itself, and we must buy a bigger wig +than any we have got, in order to confront the world with proper +self-respect. Turveydrop and deportment will suffice for us against +any odds."</p> + +<p>About half-past seven the House became very empty. "Where are you +going to dine, sir?" asked Silverbridge. The Duke, with something +like a sigh, said he supposed he should dine at home.</p> + +<p>"You never were at the Beargarden;—were you, sir?" asked +Silverbridge suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Never," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Come and dine with me."</p> + +<p>"I am not a member of the club."</p> + +<p>"We don't care at all about that. Anybody can take in anybody."</p> + +<p>"Does not that make it promiscuous?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—no; I don't know that it does. It seems to go on very well. I +daresay there are some cads there sometimes. But I don't know where +one doesn't meet cads. There are plenty in the House of Commons."</p> + +<p>"There is something in that, Silverbridge, which makes me think that +you have not realised the difference between private and public life. +In the former you choose your own associates and are responsible for +your choice. In the latter you are concerned with others for the good +of the State; and though, even for the State's sake, you would not +willingly be closely allied with those whom you think dishonest, the +outward manners and fashions of life need create no barriers. I +should not turn up my nose at the House of Commons because some +constituency might send them an illiterate shoemaker; but I might +probably find the illiterate shoemaker an unprofitable companion for +my private hours."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there will be any shoemakers at the Beargarden."</p> + +<p>"Even if there were I would go and dine with you. I shall be glad to +see the place where you, I suppose, pass many hours."</p> + +<p>"I find it a very good shop to dine at. The place at the House is so +stuffy and nasty. Besides, one likes to get away for a little time."</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I never was an advocate for living in the House. One +should always change the atmosphere." Then they got into a cab and +went to the club. Silverbridge was a little afraid of what he was +doing. The invitation had come from him on the spur of the moment, +and he hardly ventured to think that his father would accept it. And +now he did not quite know how the Duke would go through the ceremony. +"The other fellows" would all come and stare at a man whom they had +all been taught to regard as the most un-Beargardenish of men. But he +was especially anxious to make things pleasant for his father.</p> + +<p>"What shall I order?" said the son as he took the Duke into a +dressing-room to wash his hands. The Duke suggested that anything +sufficient for his son would certainly be sufficient for him.</p> + +<p>Nothing especial occurred during the dinner, which the Duke appeared +to enjoy very much. "Yes; I think it is very good soup," he said. "I +don't think they ever give me any soup at home." Then the son +expressed his opinion that unless his father looked about rather more +sharply, "they" very soon would provide no dinner at all, remarking +that experience had taught him that the less people demanded the more +they were "sat upon." The Duke did like his dinner,—or rather he +liked the feeling that he was dining with his son. A report that the +Duke of Omnium was with Lord Silverbridge soon went round the room, +and they who were justified by some previous acquaintance came up to +greet him. To all who did so he was very gracious, and was specially +so to Lord Popplecourt, who happened to pass close by the table.</p> + +<p>"I think he is a fool," whispered Silverbridge as soon as Popplecourt +had passed.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>"We thought him an ass at Eton."</p> + +<p>"He has done pretty well, however."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, in a way."</p> + +<p>"Somebody has told me that he is a careful man about his property."</p> + +<p>"I believe he is all that," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Then I don't see why you should think him a fool."</p> + +<p>To this Silverbridge made no reply; partly perhaps because he had +nothing to say,—but hindered also by the coming in of Tregear. This +was an accident, the possibility of which had not crossed him. +Unfortunately too the Duke's back was turned, so that Tregear, as he +walked up the room, could not see who was sitting at his friend's +table. Tregear coming up stood close to the Duke's elbow before he +recognised the man, and spoke some word or two to Silverbridge. "How +do you do, Mr. Tregear," said the Duke, turning round.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my Lord, I did not know that it was you."</p> + +<p>"You hardly would. I am quite a stranger here. Silverbridge and I +came up from the House together, and he has been hospitable enough to +give me a dinner. I will tell you an odd thing for a London man, Mr. +Tregear. I have not dined at a London club for fifteen years before +this."</p> + +<p>"I hope you like it, sir," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Very much indeed. Good-evening, Mr. Tregear. I suppose you have to +go to your dinner now."</p> + +<p>Then they went into one of the rooms upstairs to have coffee, the son +declining to go into the smoking-room, and assuring his father that +he did not in the least care about a cigar after dinner. "You would +be smothered, sir." The Duke did as he was bidden and went upstairs. +There was in truth a strong reason for avoiding the publicity of the +smoking-room. When bringing his father to the club he had thought +nothing about Tregear but he had thought about Tifto. As he entered +he had seen Tifto at a table dining alone, and had bobbed his head at +him. Then he had taken the Duke to the further end of the room, and +had trusted that fear would keep the Major in his place. Fear had +kept the Major in his place. When the Major learned who the stranger +was, he had become silent and reserved. Before the father and son had +finished their dinner, Tifto had gone to his cigar; and so that +danger was over.</p> + +<p>"By George, there's Silverbridge has got his governor to dinner," +said Tifto, standing in the middle of the room, and looking round as +though he were announcing some confusion of the heavens and earth.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't Lord Silverbridge have his father to dine with him?" +asked Mr. Lupton.</p> + +<p>"I believe I know Silverbridge as well as any man, and by George it +is the very last thing of the kind that I should have expected. There +have been no end of quarrels."</p> + +<p>"There has been no quarrel at all," said Tregear, who had then just +entered the room. "Nothing on earth would make Silverbridge quarrel +with his father, and I think it would break the Duke's heart to +quarrel with his son." Tifto endeavoured to argue the matter out; but +Tregear having made the assertion on behalf of his friend would not +allow himself to be enticed into further speech. Nevertheless there +was a good deal said by others, during which the Major drank two +glasses of whisky-and-water. In the dining-room he had been struck +with awe by the Duke's presence, and had certainly no idea of +presenting himself personally to the great man. But Bacchus lent him +aid, and when the discussion was over and the whisky had been +swallowed, it occurred to him that he would go upstairs and ask to be +introduced.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the Duke and his son were seated in close +conversation on one of the upstairs sofas. It was a rule at the +Beargarden that men might smoke all over the house except in the +dining-room;—but there was one small chamber called the library, in +which the practice was not often followed. The room was generally +deserted, and at this moment the father and son were the only +occupants. "A club," said the Duke, as he sipped his coffee, "is a +comfortable and economical residence. A man gets what he wants +well-served, and gets it cheap. But it has its drawbacks."</p> + +<p>"You always see the same fellows," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"A man who lives much at a club is apt to fall into a selfish mode of +life. He is taught to think that his own comfort should always be the +first object. A man can never be happy unless his first objects are +outside himself. Personal self-indulgence begets a sense of meanness +which sticks to a man even when he has got beyond all hope of rescue. +It is for that reason,—among others,—that marriage is so +desirable."</p> + +<p>"A man should marry, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Unless a man has on his shoulders the burden of a wife and children +he should, I think, feel that he has shirked out of school. He is not +doing his share of the work of the Commonwealth."</p> + +<p>"Pitt was not married, sir."</p> + +<p>"No;—and a great many other good men have remained unmarried. Do you +mean to be another Pitt?"</p> + +<p>"I don't intend to be a Prime Minister."</p> + +<p>"I would not recommend you to entertain that ambition. Pitt perhaps +hardly had time for marriage. You may be more lucky."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall marry some day."</p> + +<p>"I should be glad to see you marry early," said the Duke, speaking in +a low voice, almost solemnly, but in his quietest, sweetest tone of +voice. "You are peculiarly situated. Though as yet you are only the +heir to the property and honours of our family, still, were you +married, almost everything would be at your disposal. There is so +much which I should only be too ready to give up to you!"</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to hear you talking of giving up anything," said +Silverbridge energetically.</p> + +<p>Then the father looked round the room furtively, and seeing that the +door was shut, and that they were assuredly alone, he put out his +hand and gently stroked the young man's hair. It was almost a +caress,—as though he would have said to himself, "Were he my +daughter, I would kiss him." "There is much I would fain give up," he +said. "If you were a married man the house in Carlton Terrace would +be fitter for you than for me. I have disqualified myself for taking +that part in society which should be filled by the head of our +family. You who have inherited so much from your mother would, if you +married pleasantly, do all that right well." He paused for a moment +and then asked a straightforward question, very quickly—"You have +never thought of any one yet, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Silverbridge had thought very much of somebody. He was quite aware +that he had almost made an offer to Lady Mabel. She certainly had not +given him any encouragement; but the very fact that she had not done +so allured him the more. He did believe that he was thoroughly in +love with Lady Mabel. She had told him that he was too young,—but he +was older than Lady Mab herself by a week. She was beautiful;—that +was certain. It was acknowledged by all that she was clever. As for +blood, of which he believed his father thought much, there was +perhaps none better in England. He had heard it said of her,—as he +now well remembered, in his father's presence,—that she had behaved +remarkably well in trying circumstances. She had no +fortune;—everybody knew that; but then he did not want fortune. +Would not this be a good opportunity for breaking the matter to his +father? "You have never thought of any one?" said the Duke,—again +very sweetly, very softly.</p> + +<p>"But I have!" Lord Silverbridge as he made the announcement blushed +up to the eyes.</p> + +<p>Then there came over the father something almost of fear. If he was +to be told, how would it be if he could not approve?</p> + +<p>"Yes I have," said Silverbridge, recovering himself. "If you wish it, +I will tell you who it is."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my boy;—as to that consult your own feelings. Are you sure of +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken to her?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes, in part. She has not accepted me, if you mean that. +Rather the contrary." Now the Duke would have been very unwilling to +say that his son would certainly be accepted by any girl in England +to whom he might choose to offer his hand. But when the idea of a +doubt was suggested to him, it did seem odd that his son should ask +in vain. What other young man was there who could offer so much, and +who was at the same time so likely to be loved for his own sake? He +smiled however and was silent. "I suppose I may as well out with it," +continued Silverbridge. "You know Lady Mabel Grex?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Mabel Grex? Yes;—I know her."</p> + +<p>"Is there any objection?"</p> + +<p>"Is she not your senior?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; no; she is younger than I am."</p> + +<p>"Her father is not a man I esteem."</p> + +<p>"But she has always been so good!" Then the Duke was again silent. +"Have you not heard that, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have."</p> + +<p>"Is not that a great deal?"</p> + +<p>"A very great deal. To be good must of all qualities be the best. She +is very beautiful."</p> + +<p>"I think so, sir. Of course she has no money."</p> + +<p>"It is not needed. It is not needed. I have no objection to make. If +you are sure of your own <span class="nowrap">mind—"</span></p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of that, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then I will raise no objection. Lady Mabel Grex! Her father, I fear, +is not a worthy man. I hear that he is a gambler."</p> + +<p>"He is so poor!"</p> + +<p>"That makes it worse, Silverbridge. A man who gambles because he has +money that he can afford to lose is, to my thinking, a fool. But he +who gambles because he has none, is—well, let us hope the best of +him. You may give her my love."</p> + +<p>"She has not accepted me."</p> + +<p>"But should she do so, you may."</p> + +<p>"She almost rejected me. But I am not sure that she was in earnest, +and I mean to try again." Just at that moment the door was opened and +Major Tifto walked into the room.</p> + + +<p><a name="c27" id="c27"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII</h3> +<h3>Major Tifto and the Duke<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Silverbridge," said the Major, entering the room, +"but I was looking for Longstaff."</p> + +<p>"He isn't here," said Silverbridge, who did not wish to be +interrupted by his racing friend.</p> + +<p>"Your father, I believe?" said Tifto. He was red in the face but was +in other respects perhaps improved in appearance by his liquor. In +his more sober moments he was not always able to assume that +appearance of equality with his companions which it was the ambition +of his soul to achieve. But a second glass of whisky-and-water would +always enable him to cock his tail and bark before the company with +all the courage of my lady's pug. "Would you do me the great honour +to introduce me to his Grace?"</p> + +<p>Silverbridge was not prone to turn his back upon a friend because he +was low in the world. He had begun to understand that he had made a +mistake by connecting himself with the Major, but at the club he +always defended his partner. Though he not unfrequently found himself +obliged to snub the Major himself, he always countenanced the little +Master of Hounds, and was true to his own idea of "standing to a +fellow." Nevertheless he did not wish to introduce his friend to his +father. The Duke saw it all at a glance, and felt that the +introduction should be made. "Perhaps," said he, getting up from his +chair, "this is Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—my Lord Duke. I am Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>The Duke bowed graciously.</p> + +<p>"My father and I were engaged about private matters," said +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I beg ten thousand pardons," exclaimed the Major. "I did not intend +to intrude."</p> + +<p>"I think we had done," said the Duke. "Pray sit down, Major Tifto." +The Major sat down. "Though now I bethink myself, I have to beg your +pardon;—that I a stranger should ask you to sit down in your own +club."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it, my Lord Duke."</p> + +<p>"I am so unused to clubs, that I forgot where I was."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, my Lord Duke. I hope you think that Silverbridge is +looking well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—yes. I think so."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge bit his lips and turned his face away to the door.</p> + +<p>"We didn't make a very good thing of our Derby nag the other day. +Perhaps your Grace has heard all that?"</p> + +<p>"I did hear that the horse in which you are both interested had +failed to win the race."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did. The Prime Minister, we call him, your Grace,—out of +compliment to a certain Ministry which I wish it was going on to-day +instead of the seedy lot we've got in. I think, my Lord Duke, that +any one you may ask will tell you that I know what running is. +Well;—I can assure you,—your Grace, that is,—that since I've seen +'orses I've never seen a 'orse fitter than him. When he got his +canter that morning, it was nearly even betting. Not that I or +Silverbridge were fools enough to put on anything at that rate. But I +never saw a 'orse so bad ridden. I don't mean to say anything, my +Lord Duke, against the man. But if that fellow hadn't been squared, +or else wasn't drunk, or else wasn't off his head, that 'orse must +have won,—my Lord Duke."</p> + +<p>"I do not know anything about racing, Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, your Grace. But as I and Silverbridge are together in +this matter I thought I'd just let your Grace know that we ought to +have had a very good thing. I thought that perhaps your Grace might +like to know that."</p> + +<p>"Tifto, you are making an ass of yourself," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Making an ass of myself!" exclaimed the Major.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—considerably."</p> + +<p>"I think you are a little hard upon your friend," said the Duke, with +an attempt at a laugh. "It is not to be supposed that he should know +how utterly indifferent I am to everything connected with the turf."</p> + +<p>"I thought, my Lord Duke, you might care about learning how +Silverbridge was going on." This the poor little man said almost with +a whine. His partner's roughness had knocked out of him nearly all +the courage which Bacchus had given him.</p> + +<p>"So I do; anything that interests him, interests me. But perhaps of +all his pursuits racing is the one to which I am least able to lend +an attentive ear. That every horse has a head, and that all did have +tails till they were ill-used, is the extent of my stable knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Very good indeed, my Lord Duke; very good indeed! Ha, ha, ha!—all +horses have heads, and all have tails! Heads and tails. Upon my word +that is the best thing I have heard for a long time. I will do myself +the honour of wishing your Grace good-night. By-bye, Silverbridge." +Then he left the room, having been made supremely happy by what he +considered to have been the Duke's joke. Nevertheless he would +remember the snubbing and would be even with Silverbridge some day. +Did Lord Silverbridge think that he was going to look after his +Lordship's 'orses, and do this always on the square, and then be +snubbed for doing it!</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry that he should have come in to trouble you," said +the son.</p> + +<p>"He has not troubled me much. I do not know whether he has troubled +you. If you are coming down to the House again I will walk with you." +Silverbridge of course had to go down to the House again, and they +started together. "That man did not trouble me, Silverbridge; but the +question is whether such an acquaintance must not be troublesome to +you."</p> + +<p>"I'm not very proud of him, sir."</p> + +<p>"But I think one ought to be proud of one's friends."</p> + +<p>"He isn't my friend in that way at all."</p> + +<p>"In what way then?"</p> + +<p>"He understands racing."</p> + +<p>"He is the partner of your pleasure then;—the man in whose society +you love to enjoy the recreation of the race-course."</p> + +<p>"It is, sir, because he understands it."</p> + +<p>"I thought that a gentleman on the turf would have a trainer for that +purpose;—not a companion. You mean to imply that you can save money +by leaguing yourself with Major Tifto?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir,—indeed."</p> + +<p>"If you associate with him, not for pleasure, then it surely must be +for profit. That you should do the former would be to me so +surprising that I must regard it as impossible. That you should do +the latter—is, I think, a reproach." This he said with no tone of +anger in his voice,—so gently that Silverbridge at first hardly +understood it. But gradually all that was meant came in upon him, and +he felt himself to be ashamed of himself.</p> + +<p>"He is bad," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Whether he be bad I will not say; but I am sure that you can gain +nothing by his companionship."</p> + +<p>"I will get rid of him," said Silverbridge, after a considerable +pause. "I cannot do so at once, but I will do it."</p> + +<p>"It will be better, I think."</p> + +<p>"Tregear has been telling me the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Is he objectionable to Mr. Tregear?" asked the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Tregear cannot bear him. You treated him a great deal better +than Tregear ever does."</p> + +<p>"I do not deny that he is entitled to be treated well;—but so also +is your groom. Let us say no more about him. And so it is to be Mabel +Grex?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say so, sir. How can I answer for her? Only it was so +pleasant for me to know that you would approve if it should come +off."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I will approve. When she has accepted you—"</p> + +<p>"But I don't think she will."</p> + +<p>"If she should, tell her that I will go to her at once. It will be +much to have a new daughter;—very much that you should have a wife. +Where would she like to live?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, we haven't got as far as that yet."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not; I dare say not," said the Duke. "Gatherum is always +thought to be dull."</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't like Gatherum, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Have you asked her?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. But nobody ever did like Gatherum."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. And yet, Silverbridge, what a sum of money it cost!"</p> + +<p>"I believe it did."</p> + +<p>"All vanity; and vexation of spirit!"</p> + +<p>The Duke no doubt was thinking of certain scenes passed at the great +house in question, which scenes had not been delightful to him. "No, +I don't suppose she would wish to live at Gatherum. The Horns was +given expressly by my uncle to your dear mother, and I should like +Mary to have the place."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"You should live among your tenantry. I don't care so very much for +Matching."</p> + +<p>"It is the one place you do like, sir."</p> + +<p>"However, we can manage all that. Carlton Terrace I do not +particularly like; but it is a good house, and there you should hang +up your hat when in London. When it is settled, let me know at once."</p> + +<p>"But if it should never be settled?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask no questions; but if it be settled, tell me." Then in +Palace Yard he was turning to go, but before he did so, he said +another word leaning on his son's shoulder. "I do not think that +Mabel Grex and Major Tifto would do well together at all."</p> + +<p>"There shall be an end to that, sir."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, my boy!" said the Duke.</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge sat in the House—or, to speak more accurately, in +the smoking-room of the House—for about an hour thinking over all +that had passed between himself and his father. He certainly had not +intended to say anything about Lady Mab, but on the spur of the +moment it had all come out. Now at any rate it was decided for him +that he must, in set terms, ask her to be his wife. The scene which +had just occurred had made him thoroughly sick of Major Tifto. He +must get rid of the Major, and there could be no way of doing this at +once so easy and so little open to observation as marriage. If he +were but once engaged to Mabel Grex the dismissal of Tifto would be +quite a matter of course. He would see Lady Mabel again on the morrow +and ask her in direct language to be his wife.</p> + + +<p><a name="c28" id="c28"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII</h3> +<h3>Mrs. Montacute Jones's Garden-Party<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was known to all the world that Mrs. Montacute Jones's first great +garden-party was to come off on Wednesday, 16th June, at Roehampton. +Mrs. Montacute Jones, who lived in Grosvenor Place and had a country +house in Gloucestershire, and a place for young men to shoot at in +Scotland, also kept a suburban elysium at Roehampton, in order that +she might give two garden-parties every year. When it is said that +all these costly luxuries appertained to Mrs. Montacute Jones, it is +to be understood that they did in truth belong to Mr. Jones, of whom +nobody heard much. But of Mrs. Jones,—that is, Mrs. Montacute +Jones,—everybody heard a great deal. She was an old lady who devoted +her life to the amusement of—not only her friends, but very many who +were not her friends. No doubt she was fond of Lords and Countesses, +and worked very hard to get round her all the rank and fashion of the +day. It must be acknowledged that she was a worldly old woman. But no +more good-natured old woman lived in London, and everybody liked to +be asked to her garden-parties. On this occasion there was to be a +considerable infusion of royal blood,—German, Belgian, French, +Spanish, and of native growth. Everybody who was asked would go, and +everybody had been asked,—who was anybody. Lord Silverbridge had +been asked, and Lord Silverbridge intended to be there. Lady Mary, +his sister, could not even be asked, because her mother was hardly +more than three months dead; but it is understood in the world that +women mourn longer than men.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge had mounted a private hansom cab in which he could be +taken about rapidly,—and, as he said himself, without being shut up +in a coffin. In this vehicle he had himself taken to Roehampton, +purporting to kill two birds with one stone. He had not as yet seen +his sister since she had been with Lady Cantrip. He would on this day +come back by The Horns.</p> + +<p>He was well aware that Lady Mab would be at the garden-party. What +place could be better for putting the question he had to ask? He was +by no means so confident as the heir to so many good things might +perhaps have been without overdue self-confidence.</p> + +<p>Entering through the house into the lawn he encountered Mrs. +Montacute Jones, who, with a seat behind her on the terrace, +surrounded by flowers, was going through the immense labour of +receiving her guests.</p> + +<p>"How very good of you to come all this way, Lord Silverbridge, to eat +my strawberries."</p> + +<p>"How very good of you to ask me! I did not come to eat your +strawberries but to see your friends."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have said you came to see me, you know. Have you met +Miss Boncassen yet?"</p> + +<p>"The American beauty? No. Is she here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and she particularly wants to be introduced to you; you won't +betray me, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; I am as true as steel."</p> + +<p>"She wanted, she said, to see if the eldest son of the Duke of Omnium +really did look like any other man."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't want to see her," said Silverbridge, with a look of +vexation.</p> + +<p>"There you are wrong, for there was real downright fun in the way she +said it. There they are, and I shall introduce you." Then Mrs. +Montacute Jones absolutely left her post for a minute or two, and +taking the young lord down the steps of the terrace did introduce him +to Mr. Boncassen, who was standing there amidst a crowd, and to Miss +Boncassen the daughter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Boncassen was an American who had lately arrived in England with +the object of carrying out certain literary pursuits in which he was +engaged within the British Museum. He was an American who had nothing +to do with politics and nothing to do with trade. He was a man of +wealth and a man of letters. And he had a daughter who was said to be +the prettiest young woman either in Europe or in America at the +present time.</p> + +<p>Isabel Boncassen was certainly a very pretty girl. I wish that my +reader would believe my simple assurance. But no such simple +assurance was ever believed, and I doubt even whether any description +will procure for me from the reader that amount of faith which I +desire to achieve. But I must make the attempt. General opinion +generally considered Miss Boncassen to be small, but she was in truth +something above the average height of English women. She was slight, +without that look of slimness which is common to girls, and +especially to American girls. That her figure was perfect the reader +must believe on my word, as any detailed description of her arms, +feet, bust, and waist, would be altogether ineffective. Her hair was +dark brown and plentiful; but it added but little to her charms, +which depended on other matters. Perhaps what struck the beholder +first was the excessive brilliancy of her complexion. No pink was +ever pinker, no alabaster whiteness was ever more like alabaster; but +under and around and through it all there was a constantly changing +hue which gave a vitality to her countenance which no fixed colours +can produce. Her eyes, too, were full of life and brilliancy, and +even when she was silent her mouth would speak. Nor was there a fault +within the oval of her face upon which the hypercritics of mature age +could set a finger. Her teeth were excellent both in form and colour, +but were seen but seldom. Who does not know that look of ubiquitous +ivory produced by teeth which are too perfect in a face which is +otherwise poor? Her nose at the base spread a little,—so that it was +not purely Grecian. But who has ever seen a nose to be eloquent and +expressive, which did not so spread? It was, I think, the vitality of +her countenance,—the way in which she could speak with every +feature, the command which she had of pathos, of humour, of sympathy, +of satire, the assurance which she gave by every glance of her eye, +every elevation of her brow, every curl of her lip, that she was +alive to all that was going on,—it was all this rather than those +feminine charms which can be catalogued and labelled that made all +acknowledge that she was beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge," said Mr. Boncassen, speaking a little through +his nose, "I am proud to make your acquaintance, sir. Your father is +a man for whom we in our country have a great respect. I think, sir, +you must be proud of such a father."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,—no doubt," said Silverbridge awkwardly. Then Mr. Boncassen +continued his discourse with the gentlemen around him. Upon this our +friend turned to the young lady. "Have you been long in England, Miss +Boncassen?"</p> + +<p>"Long enough to have heard about you and your father," she said, +speaking with no slightest twang.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not heard any evil of me."</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you can't have heard much good."</p> + +<p>"I know you didn't win the Derby."</p> + +<p>"You've been long enough to hear that?"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose we don't interest ourselves about the Derby in New +York? Why, when we arrived at Queenstown I was leaning over the +taffrail so that I might ask the first man on board the tender +whether the Prime Minister had won."</p> + +<p>"And he said he hadn't."</p> + +<p>"I can't conceive why you of all men should call your horse by such a +name. If my father had been President of the United States, I don't +think I'd call a horse President."</p> + +<p>"I didn't name the horse."</p> + +<p>"I'd have changed it. But is it not very impudent in me to be finding +fault with you the first time I have ever seen you? Shall you have a +horse at Ascot?"</p> + +<p>"There will be something going, I suppose. Nothing that I care +about." Lord Silverbridge had made up his mind that he would go to no +races with Tifto before the Leger. The Leger would be an affair of +such moment as to demand his presence. After that should come the +complete rupture between him and Tifto.</p> + +<p>Then there was a movement among the elders, and Lord Silverbridge +soon found himself walking alone with Miss Boncassen. It seemed to +her to be quite natural to do so, and there certainly was no reason +why he should decline anything so pleasant. It was thus that he had +intended to walk with Mabel Grex;—only as yet he had not found her. +"Oh yes," said Miss Boncassen, when they had been together about +twenty minutes; "we shall be here all the summer, and all the fall, +and all the winter. Indeed father means to read every book in the +British Museum before he goes back."</p> + +<p>"He'll have something to do."</p> + +<p>"He reads by steam, and he has two or three young men with him to +take it all down and make other books out of it;—just as you'll see +a lady take a lace shawl and turn it all about till she has trimmed a +petticoat with it. It is the same lace all through,—and so I tell +father it's the same knowledge."</p> + +<p>"But he puts it where more people will find it."</p> + +<p>"The lady endeavours to do the same with the lace. That depends on +whether people look up or down. Father however is a very learned man. +You mustn't suppose that I am laughing at him. He is going to write a +very learned book. Only everybody will be dead before it can be half +finished." They still went on together, and then he gave her his arm +and took her into the place where the strawberries and cream were +prepared. As he was going in he saw Mabel Grex walking with Tregear, +and she bowed to him pleasantly and playfully. "Is that lady a great +friend of yours?" asked Miss Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"A very great friend indeed."</p> + +<p>"She is very beautiful."</p> + +<p>"And clever as well,—and good as gold."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! Do tell me who it is that owns all these qualities."</p> + +<p>"Lady Mabel Grex. She is daughter of Lord Grex. That man with her is +my particular friend. His name is Frank Tregear, and they are +cousins."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad they are cousins."</p> + +<p>"Why glad?"</p> + +<p>"Because his being with her won't make you unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Supposing I was in love with her,—which I am not,—do you suppose +it would make me jealous to see her with another man?"</p> + +<p>"In our country it would not. A young lady may walk about with a +young gentleman just as she might with another young lady; but I +thought it was different here. Do you know, judging by English ways, +I believe I am behaving very improperly in walking about with you so +long. Ought I not to tell you to go away?"</p> + +<p>"Pray do not."</p> + +<p>"As I am going to stay here so long I wish to behave well to English +eyes."</p> + +<p>"People know who you are, and discount all that."</p> + +<p>"If the difference be very marked they do. For instance, I needn't +wear a hideous long bit of cloth over my face in Constantinople +because I am a woman. But when the discrepancies are small, then they +have to be attended to. So I shan't walk about with you any more."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you will," said Silverbridge, who began to think that he +liked walking about with Miss Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. There is Mr. Sprottle. He is father's secretary. He +will take me back."</p> + +<p>"Cannot I take you back as well as Mr. Sprottle?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed no;—I am not going to monopolise such a man as you. Do you +think that I don't understand that everybody will be making remarks +upon the American girl who won't leave the son of the Duke of Omnium +alone? There is your particular friend Lady Mabel, and here is my +particular friend Mr. Sprottle."</p> + +<p>"May I come and call?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Father will only be too proud,—and I shall be prouder. +Mother will be the proudest of all. Mother very seldom goes out. Till +we get a house we are at The Langham. Thank you, Mr. Sprottle. I +think we'll go and find father."</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge found himself close to Lady Mabel and Tregear, and +also to Miss Cassewary, who had now joined Lady Mabel. He had been +much struck with the American beauty, but was not on that account the +less anxious to carry out his great plan. It was essentially +necessary that he should do so at once, because the matter had been +settled between him and his father. He was anxious to assure her that +if she would consent, then the Duke would be ready to pour out all +kinds of paternal blessings on their heads. "Come and take a turn +among the haycocks," he said.</p> + +<p>"Frank declares," said Lady Mabel, "that the hay is hired for the +occasion. I wonder whether that is true."</p> + +<p>"Anybody can see," said Tregear, "that it has not been cut off the +grass it stands upon."</p> + +<p>"If I could find Mrs. Montacute Jones I'd ask her where she got it," +said Lady Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Are you coming?" asked Silverbridge impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am. I have been walking round the haycocks till I am +tired of them."</p> + +<p>"Anywhere else then?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't anywhere else. What have you done with your American +beauty? The truth is, Lord Silverbridge, you ask me for my company +when she won't give you hers any longer. Doesn't it look like it, +Miss Cassewary?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think Lord Silverbridge is the man to forget an old friend +for a new one."</p> + +<p>"Not though the new friend be as lovely as Miss Boncassen?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I ever saw a prettier girl," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"I quite admit it," said Lady Mabel. "But that is no salve for my +injured feelings I have heard so much about Miss Boncassen's beauty +for the last week, that I mean to get up a company of British +females, limited, for the express purpose of putting her down. Who is +Miss Boncassen that we are all to be put on one side for her?"</p> + +<p>Of course he knew that she was joking, but he hardly knew how to take +her joke. There is a manner of joking which carries with it much +serious intention. He did feel that Lady Mabel was not gracious to +him because he had spent half an hour with this new beauty, and he +was half inclined to be angry with her. Was it fitting that she +should be cross with him, seeing that he was resolved to throw at her +feet all the good things that he had in the world? "Bother Miss +Boncassen," he said; "you might as well come and take a turn with a +fellow."</p> + +<p>"Come along, Miss Cassewary," said she. "We will go round the +haycocks yet once again." So they turned and the two ladies +accompanied Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>But this was not what he wanted. He could not say what he had to say +in the presence of Miss Cassewary,—nor could he ask her to take +herself off in another direction. Nor could he take himself off. Now +that he had joined himself to these two ladies he must make with them +the tour of the gardens. All this made him cross. "These kind of +things are a great bore," he said.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you would rather be in the House of Commons;—or, better +still, at the Beargarden."</p> + +<p>"You mean to be ill-natured when you say that, Lady Mab."</p> + +<p>"You ask us to come and walk with you, and then you tell us that we +are bores!"</p> + +<p>"I did nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought that you would be particularly pleased with +yourself for coming here to-day, seeing that you have made Miss +Boncassen's acquaintance. To be allowed to walk half an hour alone +with the acknowledged beauty of the two hemispheres ought to be +enough even for Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Lady Mab."</p> + +<p>"Nothing gives so much zest to admiration as novelty. A republican +charmer must be exciting after all the blasées habituées of the +London drawing-rooms."</p> + +<p>"How can you talk such nonsense, Mabel?" said Miss Cassewary.</p> + +<p>"But it is so. I feel that people must be sick of seeing me. I know I +am very often sick of seeing them. Here is something fresh,—and not +only unlike, but so much more lovely. I quite acknowledge that I may +be jealous, but no one can say that I am spiteful. I wish that some +republican Adonis or Apollo would crop up,—so that we might have our +turn. But I don't think the republican gentlemen are equal to the +republican ladies. Do you, Lord Silverbridge?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't thought about it."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sprottle for instance."</p> + +<p>"I have not the pleasure of knowing Mr. Sprottle."</p> + +<p>"Now we've been round the haycocks, and really, Lord Silverbridge, I +don't think we have gained much by it. Those forced marches never do +any good." And so they parted.</p> + +<p>He was thinking with a bitter spirit of the ill-result of his +morning's work when he again found himself close to Miss Boncassen in +the crowd of departing people on the terrace. "Mind you keep your +word," she said. And then she turned to her father. "Lord +Silverbridge has promised to call."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Boncassen will be delighted to make his acquaintance."</p> + +<p>He got into his cab and was driven off towards Richmond. As he went +he began to think of the two young women with whom he had passed his +morning. Mabel had certainly behaved badly to him. Even if she +suspected nothing of his object, did she not owe it to their +friendship to be more courteous to him than she had been? And if she +suspected that object, should she not at any rate have given him the +opportunity?</p> + +<p>Or could it be that she was really jealous of the American girl? +No;—that idea he rejected instantly. It was not compatible with the +innate modesty of his disposition. But no doubt the American girl was +very lovely. Merely as a thing to be looked at she was superior to +Mabel. He did feel that as to mere personal beauty she was in truth +superior to anything he had ever seen before. And she was clever +too;—and good-humoured;—whereas Mabel had been both ill-natured and +unpleasant.</p> + + +<p><a name="c29" id="c29"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX</h3> +<h3>The Lovers Meet<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Silverbridge found his sister alone. "I particularly want you," +said he, "to come and call on Mabel Grex. She wishes to know you, and +I am sure you would like her."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't been out anywhere yet," she said. "I don't feel as +though I wanted to go anywhere."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she was very anxious to know Lady Mabel Grex, of whom +she had heard much. A girl if she has had a former love passage says +nothing of it to her new lover; but a man is not so reticent. Frank +Tregear had perhaps not told her everything, but he had told her +something. "I was very fond of her;—very fond of her," he had said. +"And so I am still," he had added. "As you are my love of loves, she +is my friend of friends." Lady Mary had been satisfied by the +assurance, but had become anxious to see the friend of friends. She +resisted at first her brother's entreaties. She felt that her father +in delivering her over to the seclusion of The Horns had intended to +preclude her from showing herself in London. She was conscious that +she was being treated with cruelty, and had a certain pride in her +martyrdom. She would obey her father to the letter; she would give +him no right to call her conduct in question; but he and any other to +whom he might entrust the care of her, should be made to know that +she thought him cruel. He had his power to which she must submit. But +she also had hers,—to which it was possible he might be made to +submit. "I do not know that papa would wish me to go," she said.</p> + +<p>"But it is just what he would wish. He thinks a good deal about +Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Why should he think about her at all?"</p> + +<p>"I can't exactly explain," said Silverbridge, "but he does."</p> + +<p>"If you mean to tell me that Mabel Grex is anything particular to +you, and that papa approves of it, I will go all round the world to +see her." But he had not meant to tell her this. The request had been +made at Lady Mabel's instance. When his sister had spoken of her +father's possible objection, then he had become eager in explaining +the Duke's feeling, not remembering that such anxiety might betray +himself. At that moment Lady Cantrip came in, and the question was +referred to her. She did not see any objection to such a visit, and +expressed her opinion that it would be a good thing that Mary should +be taken out. "She should begin to go somewhere," said Lady Cantrip. +And so it was decided. On the next Friday he would come down early in +his hansom and drive her up to Belgrave Square. Then he would take +her to Carlton Terrace, and Lady Cantrip's carriage should pick her +up there and bring her home. He would arrange it all.</p> + +<p>"What did you think of the American beauty?" asked Lady Cantrip when +that was settled.</p> + +<p>"I thought she was a beauty."</p> + +<p>"So I perceived. You had eyes for nobody else," said Lady Cantrip, +who had been at the garden-party.</p> + +<p>"Somebody introduced her to me, and then I had to walk about the +grounds with her. That's the kind of thing one always does in those +places."</p> + +<p>"Just so. That is what 'those places' are meant for, I suppose. But +it was not apparently a great infliction." Lord Silverbridge had to +explain that it was not an infliction;—that it was a privilege, +seeing that Miss Boncassen was both clever and lovely; but that it +did not mean anything in particular.</p> + +<p>When he took his leave he asked his sister to go out into the grounds +with him for a moment. This she did almost unwillingly, fearing that +he was about to speak to her of Tregear. But he had no such purpose +on his mind. "Of course you know," he began, "all that was nonsense +you were saying about Mabel."</p> + +<p>"I did not know."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you might blurt out something before her."</p> + +<p>"I should not be so imprudent."</p> + +<p>"Girls do make such fools of themselves sometimes. They are always +thinking about people being in love. But it is the truth that my +father said to me the other day how very much he liked what he had +heard of her, and that he would like you to know her."</p> + +<p>On that same evening Silverbridge wrote from the Beargarden the +shortest possible note to Lady Mabel, telling her what he had +arranged. "I and Mary propose to call in B. Square on Friday at two. +I must be early because of the House. You will give us lunch. S." +There was no word of endearment,—none even of those ordinary words +which people who hate each other use to one another. But he received +the next day at home a much more kindly-written note from +her:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Lord Silverbridge</span>,</p> + +<p>You are so good! You always do just what you think people +will like best. Nothing could please me so much as seeing +your sister, of whom of course I have heard very very +much. There shall be nobody here but Miss Cass.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours most sincerely,</p> + +<p class="ind15">M. G.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"How I do wish I were a man!" his sister said to him when they were +in the hansom together.</p> + +<p>"You'd have a great deal more trouble."</p> + +<p>"But I'd have a hansom of my own, and go where I pleased. How would +you like to be shut up at a place like The Horns?"</p> + +<p>"You can go out if you like it."</p> + +<p>"Not like you. Papa thinks it's the proper place for me to live in, +and so I must live there. I don't think a woman ever chooses how or +where she shall live herself."</p> + +<p>"You are not going to take up woman's rights, I hope."</p> + +<p>"I think I shall if I stay at The Horns much longer. What would papa +say if he heard that I was going to give a lecture at an Institute?"</p> + +<p>"The governor has had so many things to bear that a trifle such as +that would make but little difference."</p> + +<p>"Poor papa!"</p> + +<p>"He was dreadfully cut up about Gerald. And then he is so good! He +said more to me about Gerald than he ever did about my own little +misfortune at Oxford; but to Gerald himself he said almost nothing. +Now he has forgiven me because he thinks I am constant at the House."</p> + +<p>"And are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not so much as he thinks. I do go there,—for his sake. He has been +so good about my changing sides."</p> + +<p>"I think you were quite right there."</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to think I was quite wrong. What did it matter to +me?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it did make papa unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Of course it did;—and then this affair of yours." As soon as this +was said Lady Mary at once hardened her heart against her father. +Whether Silverbridge was or was not entitled to his own political +opinions,—seeing that the Pallisers had for ages been known as +staunch Whigs and Liberals,—might be a matter for question. But that +she had a right to her own lover she thought that there could be no +question. As they were sitting in the cab he could hardly see her +face, but he was aware that she was in some fashion arming herself +against opposition. "I am sure that this makes him very unhappy," +continued Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be altered," she said.</p> + +<p>"It will have to be altered."</p> + +<p>"Nothing can alter it. He might die, indeed;—or so might I."</p> + +<p>"Or he might see that it is no good,—and change his mind," suggested +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Of course that is possible," said Lady Mary very curtly,—showing +plainly by her manner that the subject was one which she did not +choose to discuss any further.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to come to me," said Lady Mabel, kissing her +new acquaintance. "I have heard so much about you."</p> + +<p>"And I also of you."</p> + +<p>"I, you know, am one of your brother's stern Mentors. There are three +or four of us determined to make him a pattern young legislator. Miss +Cassewary is another. Only she is not quite so stern as I am."</p> + +<p>"He ought to be very much obliged."</p> + +<p>"But he is not,—not a bit. Are you, Lord Silverbridge?"</p> + +<p>"Not so much as I ought to be, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Of course there is an opposing force. There are the race-horses, and +the drag, and Major Tifto. No doubt you have heard of Major Tifto. +The Major is the Mr. Worldly-Wiseman who won't let Christian go to +the Strait Gate. I am afraid he hasn't read his Pilgrim's Progress. +But we shall prevail, Lady Mary, and he will get to the beautiful +city at last."</p> + +<p>"What is the beautiful city?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"A seat in the Cabinet, I suppose,—or that general respect which a +young nobleman achieves when he has shown himself able to sit on a +bench for six consecutive hours without appearing to go to sleep."</p> + +<p>Then they went to lunch, and Lady Mary did find herself to be happy +with her new acquaintance. Her life since her mother's death had been +so sad, that this short escape from it was a relief to her. Now for +awhile she found herself almost gay. There was an easy liveliness +about Lady Mabel,—a grain of humour and playfulness +conjoined,—which made her feel at home at once. And it seemed to her +as though her brother was at home. He called the girl Lady Mab, and +Queen Mab, and once plain Mabel, and the old woman he called Miss +Cass. It surely, she thought, must be the case that Lady Mabel and +her brother were engaged.</p> + +<p>"Come upstairs into my own room,—it is nicer than this," said Lady +Mabel, and they went from the dining-room into a pretty little +sitting-room with which Silverbridge was very well acquainted. "Have +you heard of Miss Boncassen?" Mary said she had heard something of +Miss Boncassen's great beauty. "Everybody is talking about her. Your +brother met her at Mrs. Montacute Jones's garden-party, and was made +a conquest of instantly."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't made a conquest of at all," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Then he ought to have been made a conquest of. I should be if I were +a man. I think she is the loveliest person to look at and the nicest +person to listen to that I ever came across. We all feel that, as far +as this season is concerned, we are cut out. But we don't mind it so +much because she is a foreigner." Then just as she said this the door +was opened and Frank Tregear was announced.</p> + +<p>Everybody there present knew as well as does the reader, what was the +connexion between Tregear and Lady Mary Palliser. And each knew that +the other knew it. It was therefore impossible for them not to feel +themselves guilty among themselves. The two lovers had not seen each +other since they had been together in Italy. Now they were brought +face to face in this unexpected manner! And nobody except Tregear was +at first quite sure whether somebody had not done something to +arrange the meeting. Mary might naturally suspect that Lady Mabel had +done this in the interest of her friend Tregear, and Silverbridge +could not but suspect that it was so. Lady Mabel, who had never +before met the other girl, could hardly refrain from thinking that +there had been some underhand communication,—and Miss Cassewary was +clearly of opinion that there had been some understanding.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge was the first to speak. "Halloo, Tregear, I didn't know +that we were to see you."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, that I should see you," said he. Then of course there was a +shaking of hands all round, in the course of which ceremony he came +to Mary the last. She gave him her hand, but had not a word to say to +him. "If I had known that you were here," he said, "I should not have +come; but I need hardly say how glad I am to see you,—even in this +way." Then the two girls were convinced that the meeting was +accidental; but Miss Cass still had her doubts.</p> + +<p>Conversation became at once very difficult. Tregear seated himself +near, but not very near, to Lady Mary, and made some attempt to talk +to both the girls at once. Lady Mabel plainly showed that she was not +at her ease;—whereas Mary seemed to be stricken dumb by the presence +of her lover. Silverbridge was so much annoyed by a feeling that this +interview was a treason to his father, that he sat cudgelling his +brain to think how he should bring it to an end. Miss Cassewary was +dumbfounded by the occasion. She was the one elder in the company who +ought to see that no wrong was committed. She was not directly +responsible to the Duke of Omnium, but she was thoroughly permeated +by a feeling that it was her duty to take care that there should be +no clandestine love meetings in Lord Grex's house. At last +Silverbridge jumped up from his chair. "Upon my word, Tregear, I +think you had better go," said he.</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Miss Cassewary. "If it is an accident—"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is an accident," said Tregear angrily,—looking round +at Mary, who blushed up to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to doubt it," said the old lady. "But as it has +occurred, Mabel, don't you think that he had better go?"</p> + +<p>"He won't bite anybody, Miss Cass."</p> + +<p>"She would not have come if she had expected it," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Mary, speaking for the first time. "But now he +is here—" Then she stopped herself, rose from the sofa, sat down, +and then rising again, stepped up to her lover, who rose at the same +moment,—and threw herself into his arms and put up her lips to be +kissed.</p> + +<p>"This won't do at all," said Silverbridge. Miss Cassewary clasped her +hands together and looked up to heaven. She probably had never seen +such a thing done before. Lady Mabel's eyes were filled with tears, +and though in all this there was much to cause her anguish, still in +her heart of hearts she admired the brave girl who could thus show +her truth to her lover.</p> + +<p>"Now go," said Mary, through her sobs.</p> + +<p>"My own one," ejaculated Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes; always your own. Go,—go; go." She was weeping and +sobbing as she said this, and hiding her face with her handkerchief. +He stood for a moment irresolute, and then left the room without a +word of adieu to any one.</p> + +<p>"You have behaved very badly," said the brother.</p> + +<p>"She has behaved like an angel," said Mabel, throwing her arms round +Mary as she spoke, "like an angel. If there had been a girl whom you +loved and who loved you, would you not have wished it? Would you not +have worshipped her for showing that she was not ashamed of her +love?"</p> + +<p>"I am not a bit ashamed," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"And I say that you have no cause. No one knows him as I do. How good +he is, and how worthy!" Immediately after that Silverbridge took his +sister away, and Lady Mabel, escaping from Miss Cass, was alone. "She +loves him almost as I have loved him," she said to herself. "I wonder +whether he can love her as he did me?"</p> + + +<p><a name="c30" id="c30"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX</h3> +<h3>What Came of the Meeting<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Not a word was said in the cab as Lord Silverbridge took his sister +to Carlton Terrace, and he was leaving her without any reference to +the scene which had taken place, when an idea struck him that this +would be cruel. "Mary," he said, "I was very sorry for all that."</p> + +<p>"It was not my doing."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was nobody's doing. But I am very sorry that it +occurred. I think that you should have controlled yourself."</p> + +<p>"No!" she almost shouted.</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"No;—if you mean by controlling myself, holding my tongue. He is the +man I love,—whom I have promised to marry."</p> + +<p>"But, Mary,—do ladies generally embrace their lovers in public?"</p> + +<p>"No;—nor should I. I never did such a thing in my life before. But +as he was there I had to show that I was not ashamed of him! Do you +think I should have done it if you all had not been there?" Then +again she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>He did not quite know what to make of it. Mabel Grex had declared +that she had behaved like an angel. But yet, as he thought of what he +had seen, he shuddered with vexation. "I was thinking of the +governor," he said.</p> + +<p>"He shall be told everything."</p> + +<p>"That you met Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; and that I—kissed him. I will do nothing that I am +ashamed to tell everybody."</p> + +<p>"He will be very angry."</p> + +<p>"I cannot help it. He should not treat me as he is doing. Mr. Tregear +is a gentleman. Why did he let him come? Why did you bring him? But +it is of no use. The thing is settled. Papa can break my heart, but +he cannot make me say that I am not engaged to Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>On that night Mary told the whole of her story to Lady Cantrip. There +was nothing that she tried to conceal. "I got up," she said, "and +threw my arms round him. Is he not all the world to me?"</p> + +<p>"Had it been planned?" asked Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"No;—no! Nothing had been planned. They are cousins and very +intimate, and he goes there constantly. Now I want you to tell papa +all about it."</p> + +<p>Lady Cantrip began to think that it had been an evil day for her when +she had agreed to take charge of this very determined young lady; but +she consented at once to write to the Duke. As the girl was in her +hands she must take care not to lay herself open to reproaches. As +this objectionable lover had either contrived a meeting, or had met +her without contriving, it was necessary that the Duke should be +informed. "I would rather you wrote the letter," said Lady Mary. "But +pray tell him that all along I have meant him to know all about it."</p> + +<p>Till Lady Cantrip seated herself at her writing-table she did not +know how great the difficulty would be. It cannot in any circumstance +be easy to write to a father as to his daughter's love for an +objectionable lover; but the Duke's character added much to the +severity of the task. And then that embrace! She knew that the Duke +would be struck with horror as he read of such a tale, and she found +herself almost struck with horror as she attempted to write it. When +she came to the point she found she could not write it. "I fear there +was a good deal of warmth shown on both sides," she said, feeling +that she was calumniating the man, as to whose warmth she had heard +nothing. "It is quite clear," she added, "that this is not a passing +fancy on her part."</p> + +<p>It was impossible that the Duke should be made to understand exactly +what had occurred. That Silverbridge had taken Mary he did +understand, and that they had together gone to Lord Grex's house. He +understood also that the meeting had taken place in the presence of +Silverbridge and of Lady Mabel. "No doubt it was all an accident," +Lady Cantrip wrote. How could it be an accident?</p> + +<p>"You had Mary up in town on Friday," he said to his son on the +following Sunday morning.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And that friend of yours came in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you not know what my wishes are?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do;—but I could not help his coming. You do not suppose +that anybody had planned it?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"It was simply an accident. Such an accident as must occur over and +over again,—unless Mary is to be locked up."</p> + +<p>"Who talks of locking anybody up? What right have you to speak in +that way?"</p> + +<p>"I only meant that of course they will stumble across each other in +London."</p> + +<p>"I think I will go abroad," said the Duke. He was silent for awhile, +and then repeated his words. "I think I will go abroad."</p> + +<p>"Not for long, I hope, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—to live there. Why should I stay here? What good can I do +here? Everything I see and everything I hear is a pain to me." The +young man of course could not but go back in his mind to the last +interview which he had had with his father, when the Duke had been so +gracious and apparently so well pleased.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything else wrong,—except about Mary?" Silverbridge +asked.</p> + +<p>"I am told that Gerald owes about fifteen hundred pounds at +Cambridge."</p> + +<p>"So much as that! I knew he had a few horses there."</p> + +<p>"It is not the money, but the absence of principle,—that a young man +should have no feeling that he ought to live within certain +prescribed means! Do you know what you have had from Mr. Morton?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is different with you. But a man, let him be who he may, should +live within certain means. As for your sister, I think she will break +my heart." Silverbridge found it to be quite impossible to say +anything in answer to this. "Are you going to church?" asked the +Duke.</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of doing so particularly."</p> + +<p>"Do you not ever go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—sometimes. I will go with you now, if you like it, sir."</p> + +<p>"I had thought of going, but my mind is too much harassed. I do not +see why you should not go."</p> + +<p>But Silverbridge, though he had been willing to sacrifice his morning +to his father,—for it was, I fear, in that way that he had looked at +it,—did not see any reason for performing a duty which his father +himself omitted. And there were various matters also which harassed +him. On the previous evening, after dinner, he had allowed himself to +back the Prime Minister for the Leger to a very serious amount. In +fact he had plunged, and now stood to lose some twenty thousand +pounds on the doings of the last night. And he had made these bets +under the influence of Major Tifto. It was the remembrance of this, +after the promise made to his father, that annoyed him the most. He +was imbued with a feeling that it behoved him as a man to "pull +himself together," as he would have said himself, and to live in +accordance with certain rules. He could make the rules easily enough, +but he had never yet succeeded in keeping any one of them. He had +determined to sever himself from Tifto, and, in doing that, had +intended to sever himself from affairs of the turf generally. This +resolution was not yet a week old. It was on that evening that he had +resolved that Tifto should no longer be his companion; and now he had +to confess to himself that because he had drunk three or four glasses +of champagne he had been induced by Tifto to make those wretched +bets.</p> + +<p>And he had told his father that he intended to ask Mabel Grex to be +his wife. He had so committed himself that the offer must now be +made. He did not specially regret that, though he wished that he had +been more reticent. "What a fool a man is to blurt out everything!" +he said to himself. A wife would be a good thing for him; and where +could he possibly find a better wife than Mabel Grex? In beauty she +was no doubt inferior to Miss Boncassen. There was something about +Miss Boncassen which made it impossible to forget her. But Miss +Boncassen was an American, and on many accounts out of the question. +It did not occur to him that he would fall in love with Miss +Boncassen; but still it seemed hard to him that this intention of +marriage should stand in his way of having a good time with Miss +Boncassen for a few weeks. No doubt there were objections to +marriage. It clipped a fellow's wings. But then, if he were married, +he might be sure that Tifto would be laid aside. It was such a great +thing to have got his father's assured consent to a marriage. It +meant complete independence in money matters.</p> + +<p>Then his mind ran away to a review of his father's affairs. It was a +genuine trouble to him that his father should be so unhappy. Of all +the griefs which weighed upon the Duke's mind, that in reference to +his sister was the heaviest. The money which Gerald owed at Cambridge +would be nothing if that other sorrow could be conquered. Nor had +Tifto and his own extravagance caused the Duke any incurable wounds. +If Tregear could be got out of the way, his father, he thought, might +be reconciled to other things. He felt very tender-hearted about his +father; but he had no remorse in regard to his sister as he made up +his mind that he would speak very seriously to Tregear.</p> + +<p>He had wandered into St. James's Park, and had lighted by this time +half-a-dozen cigarettes one after another, as he sat on one of the +benches. He was a handsome youth, all but six feet high, with light +hair, with round blue eyes, and with all that aristocratic look, +which had belonged so peculiarly to the late Duke but which was less +conspicuous in the present head of the family. He was a young man +whom you would hardly pass in a crowd without observing,—but of whom +you would say, after due observation, that he had not as yet put off +all his childish ways. He now sat with his legs stretched out, with +his cane in his hands, looking down upon the water. He was trying to +think. He worked hard at thinking. But the bench was hard and, upon +the whole, he was not satisfied with his position. He had just made +up his mind that he would look up Tregear, when Tregear himself +appeared on the path before him.</p> + +<p>"Tregear!" exclaimed Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Silverbridge!" exclaimed Tregear.</p> + +<p>"What on earth makes you walk about here on a Sunday morning?"</p> + +<p>"What on earth makes you sit there? That I should walk here, which I +often do, does not seem to me odd. But that I should find you is +marvellous. Do you often come?"</p> + +<p>"Never was here in my life before. I strolled in because I had things +to think of."</p> + +<p>"Questions to be asked in Parliament? Notices of motions, Amendments +in Committee, and that kind of thing?"</p> + +<p>"Go on, old fellow."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps Major Tifto has made important revelations."</p> + +<p>"D–––– Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Sit down here," said Silverbridge. "As it happened, at the moment +when you came up I was thinking of you."</p> + +<p>"That was kind."</p> + +<p>"And I was determined to go to you. All this about my sister must be +given up."</p> + +<p>"Must be given up?"</p> + +<p>"It can never lead to any good. I mean that there never can be a +marriage." Then he paused, but Tregear was determined to hear him +out. "It is making my father so miserable that you would pity him if +you could see him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say I should. When I see people unhappy I always pity them. +What I would ask you to think of is this. If I were to commission you +to tell your sister that everything between us should be given up, +would not she be so unhappy that you would have to pity her?"</p> + +<p>"She would get over it."</p> + +<p>"And so will your father."</p> + +<p>"He has a right to have his own opinion on such a matter."</p> + +<p>"And so have I. And so has she. His rights in this matter are very +clear and very potential. I am quite ready to admit that we cannot +marry for many years to come, unless he will provide the money. You +are quite at liberty to tell him that I say so. I have no right to +ask your father for a penny, and I will never do so. The power is all +in his hands. As far as I know my own purposes, I shall not make any +immediate attempt even to see her. We did meet, as you saw, the other +day, by the merest chance. After that, do you think that your sister +wishes me to give her up?"</p> + +<p>"As for supposing that girls are to have what they wish, that is +nonsense."</p> + +<p>"For young men I suppose equally so. Life ought to be a life of +self-denial, no doubt. Perhaps it might be my duty to retire from +this affair, if by doing so I should sacrifice only myself. The one +person of whom I am bound to think in this matter is the girl I +love."</p> + +<p>"That is just what she would say about you."</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"In that way you support each other. If it were any other man +circumstanced just like you are, and any other girl placed like Mary, +you would be the first to say that the man was behaving badly. I +don't like to use hard language to you, but in such a case you would +be the first to say of another man—that he was looking after the +girl's money."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge as he said this looked forward steadfastly on to the +water, regretting much that cause for quarrel should have arisen, but +thinking that Tregear would find himself obliged to quarrel. But +Tregear, after a few moments' silence, having thought it out, +determined that he would not quarrel. "I think I probably might," he +said, laying his hand on Silverbridge's arm. "I think I perhaps might +express such an opinion."</p> + +<p>"Well then!"</p> + +<p>"I have to examine myself, and find out whether I am guilty of the +meanness which I might perhaps be too ready to impute to another. I +have done so, and I am quite sure that I am not drawn to your sister +by any desire for her money. I did not seek her because she was a +rich man's daughter, nor,—because she is a rich man's +daughter,—will I give her up. She shall be mistress of the occasion. +Nothing but a word from her shall induce me to leave her;—but a word +from her, if it comes from her own lips,—shall do so." Then he took +his friend's hand in his, and, having grasped it, walked away without +saying another word.</p> + + +<p><a name="c31" id="c31"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI</h3> +<h3>Miss Boncassen's River-Party. No. 1<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Thrice within the next three weeks did Lord Silverbridge go forth to +ask Mabel to be his wife, but thrice in vain. On one occasion she +would talk on other things. On the second Miss Cassewary would not +leave her. On the third the conversation turned in a very +disagreeable way on Miss Boncassen, as to whom Lord Silverbridge +could not but think that Lady Mabel said some very ill-natured +things. It was no doubt true that he, during the last three weeks, +had often been in Miss Boncassen's company, that he had danced with +her, ridden with her, taken her to the House of Lords and to the +House of Commons, and was now engaged to attend upon her at a +river-party up above Maidenhead. But Mabel had certainly no right to +complain. Had he not thrice during the same period come there to lay +his coronet at her feet;—and now, at this very moment, was it not +her fault that he was not going through the ceremony?</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she said, laughing, "that it is all settled."</p> + +<p>"What is all settled?"</p> + +<p>"About you and the American beauty."</p> + +<p>"I am not aware that anything particular has been settled."</p> + +<p>"Then it ought to be,—oughtn't it? For her sake, I mean."</p> + +<p>"That is so like an English woman," said Lord Silverbridge. "Because +you cannot understand a manner of life a little different from your +own you will impute evil."</p> + +<p>"I have imputed no evil, Lord Silverbridge, and you have no right to +say so."</p> + +<p>"If you mean to assert," said Miss Cass, "that the manners of +American young ladies are freer than those of English young ladies, +it is you that are taking away their characters."</p> + +<p>"I don't say it would be at all bad," continued Lady Mabel. "She is a +beautiful girl, and very clever, and would make a charming Duchess. +And then it would be such a delicious change to have an American +Duchess."</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't be a Duchess."</p> + +<p>"Well, Countess, with Duchessship before her in the remote future. +Wouldn't it be a change, Miss Cass?"</p> + +<p>"Oh decidedly!" said Miss Cass.</p> + +<p>"And very much for the better. Quite a case of new blood, you know. +Pray don't suppose that I mean to object. Everybody who talks about +it approves. I haven't heard a dissentient voice. Only as it has gone +so far, and as English people are too stupid, you know, to understand +all these new ways,—don't you think +<span class="nowrap">perhaps—?"</span></p> + +<p>"No, I don't think. I don't think anything except that you are very +ill-natured." Then he got up and, after making formal adieux to both +the ladies, left the house.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone Lady Mabel began to laugh, but the least +apprehensive ears would have perceived that the laughter was +affected. Miss Cassewary did not laugh at all, but sat bolt upright +and looked very serious. "Upon my honour," said the younger lady, "he +is the most beautifully simple-minded human being I ever knew in my +life."</p> + +<p>"Then I wouldn't laugh at him."</p> + +<p>"How can one help it? But of course I do it with a purpose."</p> + +<p>"What purpose?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is making a fool of himself. If somebody does not +interfere he will go so far that he will not be able to draw back +without misbehaving."</p> + +<p>"I thought," said Miss Cassewary, in a very low voice, almost +whispering, "I thought that he was looking for a wife elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"You need not think of that again," said Lady Mab, jumping up from +her seat. "I had thought of it too. But as I told you before, I +spared him. He did not really mean it with me;—nor does he mean it +with this American girl. Such young men seldom mean. They drift into +matrimony. But she will not spare him. It would be a national +triumph. All the States would sing a pæan of glory. Fancy a New York +belle having compassed a Duke!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it possible. It would be too horrid."</p> + +<p>"I think it quite possible. As for me, I could teach myself to think +it best as it is, were I not so sure that I should be better for him +than so many others. But I shouldn't love him."</p> + +<p>"Why not love him?"</p> + +<p>"He is such a boy. I should always treat him like a boy,—spoiling +him and petting him, but never respecting him. Don't run away with +any idea that I should refuse him from conscientious motives, if he +were really to ask me. I too should like to be a Duchess. I should +like to bring all this misery at home to an end."</p> + +<p>"But you did refuse him."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly;—because he never asked me. For the moment I was weak, +and so I let him have another chance. I shall not have been a good +friend to him if it ends in his marrying this Yankee."</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge went out of the house in a very ill humour,—which +however left him when in the course of the afternoon he found himself +up at Maidenhead with Miss Boncassen. Miss Boncassen at any rate did +not laugh at him. And then she was so pleasant, so full of common +sense, and so completely intelligent! "I like you," she had said, +"because I feel that you will not think that you ought to make love +to me. There is nothing I hate so much as the idea that a young man +and a young woman can't be acquainted with each other without some +such tomfoolery as that." This had exactly expressed his own feeling. +Nothing could be so pleasant as his intimacy with Isabel Boncassen.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Boncassen seemed to be a homely person, with no desire either to +speak, or to be spoken to. She went out but seldom, and on those rare +occasions did not in any way interfere with her daughter. Mr. +Boncassen filled a prouder situation. Everybody knew that Miss +Boncassen was in England because it suited Mr. Boncassen to spend +many hours in the British Museum. But still the daughter hardly +seemed to be under control from the father. She went alone where she +liked; talked to those she liked; and did what she liked. Some of the +young ladies of the day thought that there was a good deal to be said +in favour of the freedom which she enjoyed.</p> + +<p>There is however a good deal to be said against it. All young ladies +cannot be Miss Boncassens, with such an assurance of admirers as to +be free from all fear of loneliness. There is a comfort for a young +lady in having a pied-à-terre to which she may retreat in case of +need. In American circles, where girls congregate without their +mothers, there is a danger felt by young men that if a lady be once +taken in hand, there will be no possibility of getting rid of +her,—no mamma to whom she may be taken and under whose wings she may +be dropped. "My dear," said an old gentleman the other day walking +through an American ball-room, and addressing himself to a girl whom +he knew well,—"My dear—" But the girl bowed and passed on, still +clinging to the arm of the young man who accompanied her. But the old +gentleman was cruel, and possessed of a determined purpose. "My +dear," said he again, catching the young man tight by the collar and +holding him fast. "Don't be afraid; I've got him; he shan't desert +you; I'll hold him here till you have told me how your father does." +The young lady looked as if she didn't like it, and the sight of her +misery gave rise to a feeling that, after all, mammas perhaps may be +a comfort.</p> + +<p>But in her present phase of life Miss Boncassen suffered no +misfortune of this kind. It had become a privilege to be allowed to +attend upon Miss Boncassen, and the feeling of this privilege had +been enhanced by the manner in which Lord Silverbridge had devoted +himself to her. Fashion of course makes fashion. Had not Lord +Silverbridge been so very much struck by the charm of the young lady, +Lords Glasslough and Popplecourt would not perhaps have found it +necessary to run after her. As it was, even that most unenergetic of +young men, Dolly Longstaff, was moved to profound admiration.</p> + +<p>On this occasion they were all up the river at Maidenhead. Mr. +Boncassen had looked about for some means of returning the civilities +offered to him, and had been instigated by Mrs. Montacute Jones to do +it after this fashion. There was a magnificent banquet spread in a +summer-house on the river bank. There were boats, and there was a +band, and there was a sward for dancing. There was lawn-tennis, and +fishing-rods,—which nobody used,—and better still, long shady +secluded walks in which gentlemen might stroll,—and ladies too, if +they were kind enough. The whole thing had been arranged by Mrs. +Montacute Jones. As the day was fine, as many of the old people had +abstained from coming, as there were plenty of young men of the best +sort, and as nothing had been spared in reference to external +comforts, the party promised to be a success. Every most lovely girl +in London of course was there,—except Lady Mabel Grex. Lady Mabel +was in the habit of going everywhere, but on this occasion she had +refused Mrs. Boncassen's invitation. "I don't want to see her +triumphs," she had said to Miss Cass.</p> + +<p>Everybody went down by railway of course, and innumerable flies and +carriages had been provided to take them to the scene of action. Some +immediately got into boats and rowed themselves up from the +bridge,—which, as the thermometer was standing at eighty in the +shade, was an inconsiderate proceeding. "I don't think I am quite up +to that," said Dolly Longstaff, when it was proposed to him to take +an oar. "Miss Amazon will do it. She rows so well, and is so strong." +Whereupon Miss Amazon, not at all abashed, did take the oar; and as +Lord Silverbridge was on the seat behind her with the other oar she +probably enjoyed her task.</p> + +<p>"What a very nice sort of person Lady Cantrip is." This was said to +Silverbridge by that generally silent young nobleman Lord +Popplecourt. The remark was the more singular because Lady Cantrip +was not at the party,—and the more so again because, as Silverbridge +thought, there could be but little in common between the Countess who +had his sister in charge and the young lord beside him, who was not +fast only because he did not like to risk his money.</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes; I dare say she is."</p> + +<p>"I thought so, peculiarly. I was at that place at Richmond +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"The devil you were! What were you doing at The Horns?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Cantrip's grandmother was,—I don't quite know what she was, +but something to us. I know I've got a picture of her at Popplecourt. +Lady Cantrip wanted to ask me something about it, and so I went down. +I was so glad to make acquaintance with your sister."</p> + +<p>"You saw Mary, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I lunched there. I'm to go down and meet the Duke some day."</p> + +<p>"Meet the Duke!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"No reason on earth,—only I can't imagine the governor going to +Richmond for his dinner. Well! I am very glad to hear it. I hope +you'll get on well with him."</p> + +<p>"I was so much struck with your sister."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I dare say," said Silverbridge, turning away into the path +where he saw Miss Boncassen standing with some other ladies. It +certainly did not occur to him that Popplecourt was to be brought +forward as a suitor for his sister's hand.</p> + +<p>"I believe this is the most lovely place in the world," Miss +Boncassen said to him.</p> + +<p>"We are so much the more obliged to you for bringing us here."</p> + +<p>"We don't bring you. You allow us to come with you and see all that +is pretty and lovely."</p> + +<p>"Is it not your party?"</p> + +<p>"Father will pay the bill, I suppose,—as far as that goes. And +mother's name was put on the cards. But of course we know what that +means. It is because you and a few others like you have been so kind +to us, that we are able to be here at all."</p> + +<p>"Everybody, I should think, must be kind to you."</p> + +<p>"I do have a good time pretty much; but nowhere so good as here. I +fear that when I get back I shall not like New York."</p> + +<p>"I have heard you say, Miss Boncassen, that Americans were more +likeable than the English."</p> + +<p>"Have you? Well, yes; I think I have said so. And I think it is so. +I'd sooner have to dance with a bank clerk in New York, than with a +bank clerk here."</p> + +<p>"Do you ever dance with bank clerks?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear yes. At least I suppose so. I dance with whoever comes up. +We haven't got lords in America, you know!"</p> + +<p>"You have got gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty of them;—but they are not so easily defined as lords. I do +like lords."</p> + +<p>"Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,—and ladies;—Countesses I mean and women of that sort. Your +Lady Mabel Grex is not here. Why wouldn't she come?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you didn't ask her."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes I did;—especially for your sake."</p> + +<p>"She is not my Lady Mabel Grex," said Lord Silverbridge with +unnecessary energy.</p> + +<p>"But she will be."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think that?"</p> + +<p>"You are devoted to her."</p> + +<p>"Much more to you, Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Not at all."</p> + +<p>"It is also—untrue."</p> + +<p>"Surely I must be the best judge of that myself."</p> + +<p>"Not a doubt; a judge not only whether it be true, but if true +whether expedient,—or even possible. What did I say to you when we +first began to know each other?"</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"That I liked knowing you;—that was frank enough;—that I liked +knowing you because I knew that there would be no tomfoolery of +love-making." Then she paused; but he did not quite know how to go on +with the conversation at once, and she continued her speech. "When +you condescend to tell me that you are devoted to me, as though that +were the kind of thing that I expect to have said when I take a walk +with a young man in a wood, is not that the tomfoolery of +love-making?" She stopped and looked at him, so that he was obliged +to answer.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you ask me if I am devoted to Lady Mabel? Would not that +be tomfoolery too?"</p> + +<p>"No. If I thought so, I would not have asked the question. I did +specially invite her to come here because I thought you would like +it. You have got to marry somebody."</p> + +<p>"Some day, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"And why not her?"</p> + +<p>"If you come to that, why not you?" He felt himself to be getting +into deep waters as he said this,—but he had a meaning to express if +only he could find the words to express it. "I don't say whether it +is tomfoolery, as you call it, or not; but whatever it is, you began +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—yes. I see. You punish me for my unpremeditated impertinence +in suggesting that you are devoted to Lady Mabel by the premeditated +impertinence of pretending to be devoted to me."</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment. I cannot follow that." Then she laughed. "I will +swear that I did not intend to be impertinent."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"I am devoted to you."</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge!"</p> + +<p>"I think you are—"</p> + +<p>"Stop, stop. Do not say it."</p> + +<p>"Well I won't;—not now. But there has been no tomfoolery."</p> + +<p>"May I ask a question, Lord Silverbridge? You will not be angry? I +would not have you angry with me."</p> + +<p>"I will not be angry," he said.</p> + +<p>"Are you not engaged to marry Lady Mabel Grex?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then I beg your pardon. I was told that you were engaged to her. And +I thought your choice was so fortunate, so happy! I have seen no girl +here that I admire half so much. She almost comes up to my idea of +what a young woman should be."</p> + +<p>"Almost!"</p> + +<p>"Now I am sure that if not engaged to her you must be in love with +her, or my praise would have sufficed."</p> + +<p>"Though one knows a Lady Mabel Grex, one may become acquainted with a +Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>There are moments in which stupid people say clever things, obtuse +people say sharp things, and good-natured people say ill-natured +things. "Lord Silverbridge," she said, "I did not expect that from +you."</p> + +<p>"Expect what? I meant it simply."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt you meant it simply. We Americans think ourselves +sharp, but I have long since found out that we may meet more than our +matches over here. I think we will go back. Mother means to try to +get up a quadrille."</p> + +<p>"You will dance with me?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. I have been walking with you, and I had better dance +with someone else."</p> + +<p>"You can let me have one dance."</p> + +<p>"I think not. There will not be many."</p> + +<p>"Are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am; there." But as she said this she smiled. "The truth is, I +thought I was getting the better of you, and you turned round and +gave me a pat on the head to show me that you could be master when it +pleased you. You have defended your intelligence at the expense of +your good-nature."</p> + +<p>"I'll be shot if I know what it all means," he said, just as he was +parting with her.</p> + + +<p><a name="c32" id="c32"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII</h3> +<h3>Miss Boncassen's River-Party. No. 2<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Silverbridge made up his mind that as he could not dance with +Miss Boncassen he would not dance at all. He was not angry at being +rejected, and when he saw her stand up with Dolly Longstaff he felt +no jealousy. She had refused to dance with him not because she did +not like him, but because she did not wish to show that she liked +him. He could understand that, though he had not quite followed all +the ins and outs of her little accusations against him. She had +flattered him—without any intention of flattery on her part. She had +spoken of his intelligence and had complained that he had been too +sharp to her. Mabel Grex when most sweet to him, when most loving, +always made him feel that he was her inferior. She took no trouble to +hide her conviction of his youthfulness. This was anything but +flattering. Miss Boncassen, on the other hand, professed herself to +be almost afraid of him.</p> + +<p>"There shall be no tomfoolery of love-making," she had said. But what +if it were not tomfoolery at all? What if it were good, genuine, +earnest love-making? He certainly was not pledged to Lady Mabel. As +regarded his father there would be a difficulty. In the first place +he had been fool enough to tell his father that he was going to make +an offer to Mabel Grex. And then his father would surely refuse his +consent to a marriage with an American stranger. In such case there +would be no unlimited income, no immediate pleasantness of +magnificent life such as he knew would be poured out upon him if he +were to marry Mabel Grex. As he thought of this, however, he told +himself that he would not sell himself for money and magnificence. He +could afford to be independent, and gratify his own taste. Just at +this moment he was of opinion that Isabel Boncassen would be the +sweeter companion of the two.</p> + +<p>He had sauntered down to the place where they were dancing and stood +by, saying a few words to Mrs. Boncassen. "Why are you not dancing, +my Lord?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"There are enough without me."</p> + +<p>"I guess you young aristocrats are never over-fond of doing much with +your own arms and legs."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that; polo, you know, for the legs, and +lawn-tennis for the arms, is hard work enough."</p> + +<p>"But it must always be something new-fangled; and after all it isn't +of much account. Our young men like to have quite a time at dancing."</p> + +<p>It all came through her nose! And she looked so common! What would +the Duke say to her, or Mary, or even Gerald? The father was by no +means so objectionable. He was a tall, straight, ungainly man, who +always wore black clothes. He had dark, stiff, short hair, a long +nose, and a forehead that was both high and broad. Ezekiel Boncassen +was the very man,—from his appearance,—for a President of the +United States; and there were men who talked of him for that high +office. That he had never attended to politics was supposed to be in +his favour. He had the reputation of being the most learned man in +the States, and reputation itself often suffices to give a man +dignity of manner. He, too, spoke through his nose, but the peculiar +twang coming from a man would be supposed to be virile and incisive. +From a woman, Lord Silverbridge thought it to be unbearable. But as +to Isabel, had she been born within the confines of some lordly park +in Hertfordshire, she could not have been more completely free from +the abomination.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you should not be enjoying yourself," said Mr. +Boncassen, coming to his wife's relief.</p> + +<p>"Nothing could have been nicer. To tell the truth, I am standing idle +by way of showing my anger against your daughter, who would not dance +with me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she would have felt herself honoured," said Mr. Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"Who is the gentleman with her?" asked the mother.</p> + +<p>"A particular friend of mine—Dolly Longstaff."</p> + +<p>"Dolly!" ejaculated Mrs. Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"Everybody calls him so. His real name I believe to be Adolphus."</p> + +<p>"Is he,—is he—just anybody?" asked the anxious mother.</p> + +<p>"He is a very great deal,—as people go here. Everybody knows him. He +is asked everywhere, but he goes nowhere. The greatest compliment +paid to you here is his presence."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my Lord, there are the Countess Montague, and the Marchioness +of Capulet, and Lord Tybalt, <span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"They go everywhere. They are nobodies. It is a charity to even +invite them. But to have had Dolly Longstaff once is a triumph for +life."</p> + +<p>"Laws!" said Mrs. Boncassen, looking hard at the young man who was +dancing. "What has he done?"</p> + +<p>"He never did anything in his life."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he's very rich."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I should think not. I don't know anything about his +riches, but I can assure you that having had him down here will quite +give a character to the day."</p> + +<p>In the meantime Dolly Longstaff was in a state of great excitement. +Some part of the character assigned to him by Lord Silverbridge was +true. He very rarely did go anywhere, and yet was asked to a great +many places. He was a young man,—though not a very young man,—with +a fortune of his own and the expectation of a future fortune. Few men +living could have done less for the world than Dolly Longstaff,—and +yet he had a position of his own. Now he had taken it into his head +to fall in love with Miss Boncassen. This was an accident which had +probably never happened to him before, and which had disturbed him +much. He had known Miss Boncassen a week or two before Lord +Silverbridge had seen her, having by some chance dined out and sat +next to her. From that moment he had become changed, and had gone +hither and thither in pursuit of the American beauty. His passion +having become suspected by his companions had excited their ridicule. +Nevertheless he had persevered;—and now he was absolutely dancing +with the lady out in the open air. "If this goes on, your friends +will have to look after you and put you somewhere," Mr. Lupton had +said to him in one of the intervals of the dance. Dolly had turned +round and scowled, and suggested that if Mr. Lupton would mind his +own affairs it would be as well for the world at large.</p> + +<p>At the present crisis Dolly was very much excited. When the dance was +over, as a matter of course, he offered the lady his arm, and as a +matter of course she accepted it. "You'll take a turn; won't you?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"It must be a very short turn," she said,—"as I am expected to make +myself busy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother that."</p> + +<p>"It bothers me; but it has to be done."</p> + +<p>"You have set everything going now. They'll begin dancing again +without your telling them."</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"And I've got something I want to say."</p> + +<p>"Dear me; what is it?"</p> + +<p>They were now on a path close to the riverside, in which there were +many loungers. "Would you mind coming up to the temple?" he said.</p> + +<p>"What temple?"</p> + +<p>"Oh such a beautiful place. The Temple of the Winds, I think they +call it, or Venus;—or—or—Mrs. Arthur de Bever."</p> + +<p>"Was she a goddess?"</p> + +<p>"It is something built to her memory. Such a view of the river! I was +here once before and they took me up there. Everybody who comes here +goes and sees Mrs. Arthur de Bever. They ought to have told you."</p> + +<p>"Let us go then," said Miss Boncassen. "Only it must not be long."</p> + +<p>"Five minutes will do it all." Then he walked rather quickly up a +flight of rural steps. "Lovely spot; isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"That's Maidenhead Bridge;—that's—somebody's place;—and now I've +got something to say to you."</p> + +<p>"You're not going to murder me now you've got me up here alone?" said +Miss Boncassen, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Murder you!" said Dolly, throwing himself into an attitude that was +intended to express devoted affection. "Oh no!"</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that."</p> + +<p>"Miss Boncassen!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Longstaff! If you sigh like that you'll burst yourself."</p> + +<p>"I'll—what?"</p> + +<p>"Burst yourself!" and she nodded her head at him.</p> + +<p>Then he clapped his hands together, and turned his head away from her +towards the little temple. "I wonder whether she knows what love is," +he said, as though he were addressing himself to Mrs. Arthur de +Bever.</p> + +<p>"No, she don't," said Miss Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"But I do," he shouted, turning back towards her. "I do. If any man +were ever absolutely, actually, really in love, I am the man."</p> + +<p>"Are you indeed, Mr. Longstaff? Isn't it pleasant?"</p> + +<p>"Pleasant;—pleasant? Oh, it could be so pleasant."</p> + +<p>"But who is the lady? Perhaps you don't mean to tell me that."</p> + +<p>"You mean to say you don't know?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't the least idea in life."</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you then that it could only be one person. It never was +but one person. It never could have been but one person. It is you." +Then he put his hand well on his heart.</p> + +<p>"Me!" said Miss Boncassen, choosing to be ungrammatical in order that +he might be more absurd.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is you. Do you think that I should have brought you all +the way up here to tell you that I was in love with anybody else?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I was brought to see Mrs. de Somebody, and the view."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Dolly emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Then you have deceived me."</p> + +<p>"I will never deceive you. Only say that you will love me, and I will +be as true to you as the North Pole."</p> + +<p>"Is that true to me?"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"But if I don't love you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do!"</p> + +<p>"Do I?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Dolly. "I didn't mean to say that. Of +course a man shouldn't make sure of a thing."</p> + +<p>"Not in this case, Mr. Longstaff; because really I entertain no such +feeling."</p> + +<p>"But you can if you please. Just let me tell you who I am."</p> + +<p>"That will do no good whatever, Mr. Longstaff."</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you at any rate. I have a very good income of my own as +it is."</p> + +<p>"Money can have nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>"But I want you to know that I can afford it. You might perhaps have +thought that I wanted your money."</p> + +<p>"I will attribute nothing evil to you, Mr. Longstaff. Only it is +quite out of the question that I should—respond as I suppose you +wish me to; and therefore, pray, do not say anything further."</p> + +<p>She went to the head of the little steps but he interrupted her. "You +ought to hear me," he said.</p> + +<p>"I have heard you."</p> + +<p>"I can give you as good a position as any man without a title in +England."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Longstaff, I rather fancy that wherever I may be I can make a +position for myself. At any rate I shall not marry with the view of +getting one. If my husband were an English Duke I should think myself +nothing, unless I was something as Isabel Boncassen."</p> + +<p>When she said this she did not bethink herself that Lord Silverbridge +would in the course of nature become an English Duke. But the +allusion to an English Duke told intensely on Dolly, who had +suspected that he had a noble rival. "English Dukes aren't so easily +got," he said.</p> + +<p>"Very likely not. I might have expressed my meaning better had I said +an English Prince."</p> + +<p>"That's quite out of the question," said Dolly. "They can't do +it,—by Act of Parliament,—except in a hugger-mugger left-handed +way, that wouldn't suit you at all."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Longstaff,—you must forgive me—if I say—that of all the +gentlemen—I have ever met in this country or in any other—you are +the—most obtuse." This she brought out in little disjointed +sentences, not with any hesitation, but in a way to make every word +she uttered more clear to an intelligence which she did not believe +to be bright. But in this belief she did some injustice to Dolly. He +was quite alive to the disgrace of being called obtuse, and quick +enough to avenge himself at the moment.</p> + +<p>"Am I?" said he. "How humble-minded you must be when you think me a +fool because I have fallen in love with such a one as yourself."</p> + +<p>"I like you for that," she replied laughing, "and withdraw the +epithet as not being applicable. Now we are quits and can forget and +forgive;—only let there be the forgetting."</p> + +<p>"Never!" said Dolly, with his hand again on his heart.</p> + +<p>"Then let it be a little dream of your youth,—that you once met a +pretty American girl who was foolish enough to refuse all that you +would have given her."</p> + +<p>"So pretty! So awfully pretty!" Thereupon she curtsied. "I have seen +all the handsome women in England going for the last ten years, and +there has not been one who has made me think that it would be worth +my while to get off my perch for her."</p> + +<p>"And now you would desert your perch for me!"</p> + +<p>"I have already."</p> + +<p>"But you can get up again. Let it be all a dream. I know men like to +have had such dreams. And in order that the dream may be pleasant the +last word between us shall be kind. Such admiration from such a one +as you is an honour,—and I will reckon it among my honours. But it +can be no more than a dream." Then she gave him her hand. "It shall +be so;—shall it not?" Then she paused. "It must be so, Mr. +Longstaff."</p> + +<p>"Must it?"</p> + +<p>"That and no more. Now I wish to go down. Will you come with me? It +will be better. Don't you think it is going to rain?"</p> + +<p>Dolly looked up at the clouds. "I wish it would with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"I know you are not so ill-natured. It would spoil all."</p> + +<p>"You have spoiled all."</p> + +<p>"No, no. I have spoiled nothing. It will only be a little dream about +'that strange American girl, who really did make me feel queer for +half an hour.' Look at that. A great big drop—and the cloud has come +over us as black as Erebus. Do hurry down." He was leading the way. +"What shall we do for carriages to get us to the inn?"</p> + +<p>"There's the summer-house."</p> + +<p>"It will hold about half of us. And think what it will be to be in +there waiting till the rain shall be over! Everybody has been so +good-humoured and now they will be so cross!"</p> + +<p>The rain was falling in big heavy drops, slow and far between, but +almost black with their size. And the heaviness of the cloud which +had gathered over them made everything black.</p> + +<p>"Will you have my arm?" said Silverbridge, who saw Miss Boncassen +scudding along, with Dolly Longstaff following as fast as he could.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no. I have got to mind my dress. There;—I have gone right +into a puddle. Oh dear!" So she ran on, and Silverbridge followed +close behind her, leaving Dolly Longstaff in the distance.</p> + +<p>It was not only Miss Boncassen who got her feet into a puddle and +splashed her stockings. Many did so who were not obliged by their +position to maintain good-humour under their misfortunes. The storm +had come on with such unexpected quickness that there had been a +general stampede to the summer-house. As Isabel had said, there was +comfortable room for not more than half of them. In a few minutes +people were crushed who never ought to be crushed. A Countess for +whom treble-piled sofas were hardly good enough was seated on the +corner of a table till some younger and less gorgeous lady could be +made to give way. And the Marchioness was declaring she was as wet +through as though she had been dragged in a river. Mrs. Boncassen was +so absolutely quelled as to have retired into the kitchen attached to +the summer-house. Mr. Boncassen, with all his country's pluck and +pride, was proving to a knot of gentlemen round him on the verandah, +that such treachery in the weather was a thing unknown in his happier +country. Miss Boncassen had to do her best to console the splashed +ladies. "Oh Mrs. Jones, is it not a pity! What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"We must bear it, my dear. It often does rain, but why on this +special day should it come down out of buckets?"</p> + +<p>"I never was so wet in all my life," said Dolly Longstaff, poking in +his head.</p> + +<p>"There's somebody smoking," said the Countess angrily. There was a +crowd of men smoking out on the verandah. "I never knew anything so +nasty," the Countess continued, leaving it in doubt whether she spoke +of the rain, or the smoke, or the party generally.</p> + +<p>Damp gauzes, splashed stockings, trampled muslins, and features which +have perhaps known something of rouge and certainly encountered +something of rain may be made, but can only, by supreme high +breeding, be made compatible with good-humour. To be moist, muddy, +rumpled and smeared, when by the very nature of your position it is +your duty to be clear-starched up to the pellucidity of crystal, to +be spotless as the lily, to be crisp as the ivy-leaf, and as clear in +complexion as a rose,—is it not, O gentle readers, felt to be a +disgrace? It came to pass, therefore, that many were now very cross. +Carriages were ordered under the idea that some improvement might be +made at the inn which was nearly a mile distant. Very few, however, +had their own carriages, and there was jockeying for the vehicles. In +the midst of all this Silverbridge remained as near to Miss Boncassen +as circumstances would admit. "You are not waiting for me," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am. We might as well go up to town together."</p> + +<p>"Leave me with father and mother. Like the captain of a ship, I must +be the last to leave the wreck."</p> + +<p>"But I'll be the gallant sailor of the day who always at the risk of +his life sticks to the skipper to the last moment."</p> + +<p>"Not at all;—just because there will be no gallantry. But come and +see us to-morrow and find out whether we have got through it alive."</p> + + +<p><a name="c33" id="c33"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII</h3> +<h3>The Langham Hotel<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"What an abominable climate," Mrs. Boncassen had said when they were +quite alone at Maidenhead.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you didn't think you were to bring New York along with you +when you came here," replied her husband.</p> + +<p>"I wish I was going back to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"That's a foolish thing to say. People here are very kind, and you +are seeing a great deal more of the world than you would ever see at +home. I am having a very good time. What do you say, Bell?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could have kept my stockings clean."</p> + +<p>"But what about the young men?"</p> + +<p>"Young men are pretty much the same everywhere, I guess. They never +have their wits about them. They never mean what they say, because +they don't understand the use of words. They are generally half +impudent and half timid. When in love they do not at all understand +what has befallen them. What they want they try to compass as a cow +does when it stands stretching out its head towards a stack of hay +which it cannot reach. Indeed there is no such thing as a young man, +for a man is not really a man till he is middle-aged. But take them +at their worst they are a deal too good for us, for they become men +some day, whereas we must only be women to the end."</p> + +<p>"My word, Bella!" exclaimed the mother.</p> + +<p>"You have managed to be tolerably heavy upon God's creatures, taking +them in a lump," said the father. "Boys, girls, and cows! Something +has gone wrong with you besides the rain."</p> + +<p>"Nothing on earth, sir,—except the boredom."</p> + +<p>"Some young man has been talking to you, Bella."</p> + +<p>"One or two, mother; and I got to be thinking if any one of them +should ask me to marry him, and if moved by some evil destiny I were +to take him, whether I should murder him, or myself, or run away with +one of the others."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you bear with him till, according to your own theory, he +would grow out of his folly?" said the father.</p> + +<p>"Being a woman,—no. The present moment is always everything to me. +When that horrid old harridan halloaed out that somebody was smoking, +I thought I should have died. It was very bad just then."</p> + +<p>"Awful!" said Mrs. Boncassen, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"I didn't seem to feel it much," said the father. "One doesn't look +to have everything just what one wants always. If I did I should go +nowhere;—but my total life would be less enjoyable. If ever you do +get married, Bell, you should remember that."</p> + +<p>"I mean to get married some day, so that I shouldn't be made love to +any longer."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will have that effect," said the father.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Boncassen!" ejaculated the mother.</p> + +<p>"What I say is true. I hope it will have that effect. It had with +you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that people didn't think of me as much as of anybody +else, even though I was married."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, I never knew it."</p> + +<p>Miss Boncassen, though she had behaved serenely and with good temper +during the process of Dolly's proposal, had not liked it. She had a +very high opinion of herself, and was certainly entitled to have it +by the undisguised admiration of all that came near her. She was not +more indifferent to the admiration of young men than are other young +ladies. But she was not proud of the admiration of Dolly Longstaff. +She was here among strangers whose ways were unknown to her, whose +rank and standing in the world were vague to her, and wonderful in +their dimness. She knew that she was associating with men very +different from those at home where young men were supposed to be +under the necessity of earning their bread. At New York she would +dance, as she had said, with bank clerks. She was not prepared to +admit that a young London lord was better than a New York bank clerk. +Judging the men on their own individual merits she might find the +bank clerk to be the better of the two. But a certain sweetness of +the aroma of rank was beginning to permeate her republican senses. +The softness of a life in which no occupation was compulsory had its +charms for her. Though she had complained of the insufficient +intelligence of young men she was alive to the delight of having +nothings said to her pleasantly. All this had affected her so +strongly that she had almost felt that a life among these English +luxuries would be a pleasant life. Like most Americans who do not as +yet know the country, she had come with an inward feeling that as an +American and a republican she might probably be despised.</p> + +<p>There is not uncommonly a savageness of self-assertion about +Americans which arises from a too great anxiety to be admitted to +fellowship with Britons. She had felt this, and conscious of +reputation already made by herself in the social life of New York, +she had half trusted that she would be well received in London, and +had half convinced herself that she would be rejected. She had not +been rejected. She must have become quite aware of that. She had +dropped very quickly the idea that she would be scorned. Ignorant as +she had been of English life, she perceived that she had at once +become popular. And this had been so in spite of her mother's +homeliness and her father's awkwardness. By herself and by her own +gifts she had done it. She had found out concerning herself that she +had that which would commend her to other society than that of the +Fifth Avenue. Those lords of whom she had heard were as plenty with +her as blackberries. Young Lord Silverbridge, of whom she was told +that of all the young lords of the day he stood first in rank and +wealth, was peculiarly her friend. Her brain was firmer than that of +most girls, but even her brain was a little turned. She never told +herself that it would be well for her to become the wife of such a +one. In her more thoughtful moments she told herself that it would +not be well. But still the allurement was strong upon her. Park Lane +was sweeter than the Fifth Avenue. Lord Silverbridge was nicer than +the bank clerk.</p> + +<p>But Dolly Longstaff was not. She would certainly prefer the bank +clerk to Dolly Longstaff. And yet Dolly Longstaff was the one among +her English admirers who had come forward and spoken out. She did not +desire that any one should come forward and speak out. But it was an +annoyance to her that this special man should have done so.</p> + +<p>The waiter at the Langham understood American ways perfectly, and +when a young man called between three and four o'clock, asking for +Mrs. Boncassen, said that Miss Boncassen was at home. The young man +took off his hat, brushed up his hair, and followed the waiter up to +the sitting-room. The door was opened and the young man was +announced. "Mr. Longstaff."</p> + +<p>Miss Boncassen was rather disgusted. She had had enough of this +English lover. Why should he have come after what had occurred +yesterday? He ought to have felt that he was absolved from the +necessity of making personal inquiries. "I am glad to see that you +got home safe," she said as she gave him her hand.</p> + +<p>"And you too, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—so, so; with my clothes a good deal damaged and my temper +rather worse."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>"It should not rain on such days. Mother has gone to church."</p> + +<p>"Oh;—indeed. I like going to church myself sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Do you now?"</p> + +<p>"I know what would make me like to go to church."</p> + +<p>"And father is at the Athenæum. He goes there to do a little light +reading in the library on Sunday afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget yesterday, Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't if your clothes had been spoilt as mine were."</p> + +<p>"Money will repair that."</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; but when I've had a petticoat flounced particularly to +order I don't like to see it ill-treated. There are emotions of the +heart which money can't touch."</p> + +<p>"Just so;—emotions of the heart! That's the very phrase."</p> + +<p>She was determined if possible to prevent a repetition of the scene +which had taken place up at Mrs. de Bever's temple. "All my emotions +are about my dress."</p> + +<p>"All?"</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; all. I guess I don't care much for eating and drinking." +In saying this she actually contrived to produce something of a nasal +twang.</p> + +<p>"Eating and drinking!" said Dolly. "Of course they are +necessities;—and so are clothes."</p> + +<p>"But new things are such ducks!"</p> + +<p>"Trowsers may be," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>Then she took a prolonged gaze at him, wondering whether he was or +was not such a fool as he looked. "How funny you are," she said.</p> + +<p>"A man does not generally feel funny after going through what I +suffered yesterday, Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"Would you mind ringing the bell?"</p> + +<p>"Must it be done quite at once?"</p> + +<p>"Quite,—quite," she said. "I can do it myself for the matter of +that." And she rang the bell somewhat violently. Dolly sank back +again into his seat, remarking in his usual apathetic way that he had +intended to obey her behest but had not understood that she was in so +great a hurry. "I am always in a hurry," she said. "I like things to +be done—sharp." And she hit the table a crack. "Please bring me some +iced water," this of course was addressed to the waiter. "And a glass +for Mr. Longstaff."</p> + +<p>"None for me, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd like soda and brandy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no;—nothing of the kind. But I am so much obliged to you +all the same." As the water-bottle was in fact standing in the room, +and as the waiter had only to hand the glass, all this created but +little obstacle. Still it had its effect, and Dolly, when the man had +retired, felt that there was a difficulty in proceeding. "I have +called to-day—" he began.</p> + +<p>"That has been so kind of you. But mother has gone to church."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad that she has gone to church, because I wish +<span class="nowrap">to—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh laws! There's a horse has tumbled down in the street. I heard +it."</p> + +<p>"He has got up again," said Dolly, looking leisurely out of the +window. "But as I was <span class="nowrap">saying—"</span></p> + +<p>"I don't think that the water we Americans drink can be good. It +makes the women become ugly so young."</p> + +<p>"You will never become ugly."</p> + +<p>She got up and curtsied to him, and then, still standing, made him a +speech. "Mr. Longstaff, it would be absurd of me to pretend not to +understand what you mean. But I won't have any more of it. Whether +you are making fun of me, or whether you are in earnest, it is just +the same."</p> + +<p>"Making fun of you!"</p> + +<p>"It does not signify. I don't care which it is. But I won't have it. +There!"</p> + +<p>"A gentleman should be allowed to express his feelings and to explain +his position."</p> + +<p>"You have expressed and explained more than enough, and I won't have +any more. If you will sit down and talk about something else, or else +go away, there shall be an end of it;—but if you go on, I will ring +the bell again. What can a man gain by going on when a girl has +spoken as I have done?" They were both at this time standing up, and +he was now as angry as she was.</p> + +<p>"I've paid you the greatest compliment a man can pay a woman," he +began.</p> + +<p>"Very well. If I remember rightly I thanked you for it yesterday. If +you wish it, I will thank you again to-day. But it is a compliment +which becomes very much the reverse if it be repeated too often. You +are sharp enough to understand that I have done everything in my +power to save us both from this trouble."</p> + +<p>"What makes you so fierce, Miss Boncassen?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you so foolish?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it must be something peculiar to American ladies."</p> + +<p>"Just that;—something peculiar to American ladies. They don't +like—well; I don't want to say anything more that can be called +fierce."</p> + +<p>At this moment the door was again opened and Lord Silverbridge was +announced. "Halloa, Dolly, are you here?"</p> + +<p>"It seems that I am."</p> + +<p>"And I am here too," said Miss Boncassen, smiling her prettiest.</p> + +<p>"None the worse for yesterday's troubles, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"A good deal the worse. I have been explaining all that to Mr. +Longstaff, who has been quite sympathetic with me about my things."</p> + +<p>"A terrible pity that shower," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"For you," said Silverbridge, "because, if I remember right, Miss +Boncassen was walking with you;—but I was rather glad of it."</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge!"</p> + +<p>"I regarded it as a direct interposition of Providence, because you +would not dance with me."</p> + +<p>"Any news to-day, Silverbridge?" asked Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing particular. They say that Coalheaver can't run for the +Leger."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Dolly vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Broke down at Ascot. But I daresay it's a lie."</p> + +<p>"Sure to be a lie," said Dolly. "What do you think of Madame +Scholzdam, Miss Boncassen?"</p> + +<p>"I am not a good judge."</p> + +<p>"Never heard anything equal to it yet in this world," said Dolly. "I +wonder whether that's true about Coalheaver?"</p> + +<p>"Tifto says so."</p> + +<p>"Which at the present moment," asked Miss Boncassen, "is the greater +favourite with the public, Madame Scholzdam or Coalheaver?"</p> + +<p>"Coalheaver is a horse, Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"Oh,—a horse!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I ought to say a colt."</p> + +<p>"Oh,—a colt."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose, Dolly, that Miss Boncassen doesn't know all that?" +asked Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"He supposes that my American ferocity has never been sufficiently +softened for the reception of polite erudition."</p> + +<p>"You two have been quarrelling, I fear."</p> + +<p>"I never quarrel with a woman," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Nor with a man in my presence, I hope," said Miss Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"Somebody does seem to have got out of bed at the wrong side," said +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I did," said Miss Boncassen. "I got out of bed at the wrong side. I +am cross. I can't get over the spoiling of my flounces. I think you +had better both go away and leave me. If I could walk about the room +for half an hour and stamp my feet, I should get better." +Silverbridge thought that as he had come last, he certainly ought to +be left last. Miss Boncassen felt that, at any rate, Mr. Longstaff +should go. Dolly felt that his manhood required him to remain. After +what had taken place he was not going to leave the field vacant for +another. Therefore he made no effort to move.</p> + +<p>"That seems rather hard upon me," said Silverbridge. "You told me to +come."</p> + +<p>"I told you to come and ask after us all. You have come and asked +after us, and have been informed that we are very bad. What more can +I say? You accuse me of getting out of bed the wrong side, and I own +that I did."</p> + +<p>"I meant to say that Dolly Longstaff had done so."</p> + +<p>"And I say it was Silverbridge," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"We aren't very agreeable together, are we? Upon my word I think +you'd better both go." Silverbridge immediately got up from his +chair; upon which Dolly also moved.</p> + +<p>"What the mischief is up?" asked Silverbridge, when they were under +the porch together.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, you never can tell what you are to do with those +American girls."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have been making up to her."</p> + +<p>"Nothing in earnest. She seemed to me to like admiration; so I told +her I admired her."</p> + +<p>"What did she say then?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you seem to be very great at cross-examining. Perhaps +you had better go back and ask her."</p> + +<p>"I will, next time I see her." Then he stepped into his cab, and in a +loud voice ordered the man to drive him to the Zoo. But when he had +gone a little way up Portland Place, he stopped the driver and +desired he might be taken back again to the hotel. As he left the +vehicle he looked round for Dolly, but Dolly had certainly gone. Then +he told the waiter to take his card to Miss Boncassen, and explain +that he had something to say which he had forgotten.</p> + +<p>"So you have come back again?" said Miss Boncassen, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have. You didn't suppose I was going to let that fellow +get the better of me. Why should I be turned out because he had made +an ass of himself!"</p> + +<p>"Who said he made an ass of himself?"</p> + +<p>"But he had; hadn't he?"</p> + +<p>"No;—by no means," said she after a little pause.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what he had been saying."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind. If I told you all he said, +then I should have to tell the next man all that you may say. Would +that be fair?"</p> + +<p>"I should not mind," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I dare say not, because you have nothing particular to say. But the +principle is the same. Lawyers and doctors and parsons talk of +privileged communications. Why should not a young lady have her +privileged communications?"</p> + +<p>"But I have something particular to say."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"Why should you hope not?"</p> + +<p>"I hate having things said particularly. Nobody likes conversation so +well as I do; but it should never be particular."</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you that I came back to London yesterday in the +same carriage with old Lady Clanfiddle, and that she swore that no +consideration on earth would ever induce her to go to Maidenhead +again."</p> + +<p>"That isn't particular."</p> + +<p>"She went on to say;—you won't tell of me; will you?"</p> + +<p>"It shall all be privileged."</p> + +<p>"She went on to say that Americans couldn't be expected to understand +English manners."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they may be all the better for that."</p> + +<p>"Then I spoke up. I swore I was awfully in love with you."</p> + +<p>"You didn't."</p> + +<p>"I did;—that you were, out and away, the finest girl I ever saw in +my life. Of course you understand that her two daughters were there. +And that as for manners,—unless the rain could be attributed to +American manners,—I did not think anything had gone wrong."</p> + +<p>"What about the smoking?"</p> + +<p>"I told her they were all Englishmen, and that if she had been giving +the party herself they would have smoked just as much. You must +understand that she never does give any parties."</p> + +<p>"How could you be so ill-natured?"</p> + +<p>"There was ever so much more of it. And it ended in her telling me +that I was a schoolboy. I found out the cause of it all. A great +spout of rain had come upon her daughter's hat, and that had produced +a most melancholy catastrophe."</p> + +<p>"I would have given her mine willingly."</p> + +<p>"An American hat;—to be worn by Lady Violet Clanfiddle!"</p> + +<p>"It came from Paris last week, sir."</p> + +<p>"But must have been contaminated by American contact."</p> + +<p>"Now, Lord Silverbridge," said she, getting up, "if I had a stick I'd +whip you."</p> + +<p>"It was such fun."</p> + +<p>"And you come here and tell it all to me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. It was a deal too good to keep it to myself. +'American manners!'" As he said this he almost succeeded in looking +like Lady Clanfiddle.</p> + +<p>At that moment Mr. Boncassen entered the room, and was immediately +appealed to by his daughter. "Father, you must turn Lord Silverbridge +out of the room."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! If I must,—of course I must. But why?"</p> + +<p>"He is saying everything horrid he can about Americans."</p> + +<p>After this they settled down for a few minutes to general +conversation, and then Lord Silverbridge again took his leave. When +he was gone Isabel Boncassen almost regretted that the "something +particular" which he had threatened to say had not been less comic in +its nature.</p> + + +<p><a name="c34" id="c34"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV</h3> +<h3>Lord Popplecourt<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When the reader was told that Lord Popplecourt had found Lady Cantrip +very agreeable it is to be hoped that the reader was disgusted. Lord +Popplecourt would certainly not have given a second thought to Lady +Cantrip unless he had been specially flattered. And why should such a +man have been flattered by a woman who was in all respects his +superior? The reader will understand. It had been settled by the +wisdom of the elders that it would be a good thing that Lord +Popplecourt should marry Lady Mary Palliser.</p> + +<p>The mutual assent which leads to marriage should no doubt be +spontaneous. Who does not feel that? Young love should speak from its +first doubtful unconscious spark,—a spark which any breath of air +may quench or cherish,—till it becomes a flame which nothing can +satisfy but the union of the two lovers. No one should be told to +love, or bidden to marry, this man or that woman. The theory of this +is plain to us all, and till we have sons or daughters whom we feel +imperatively obliged to control, the theory is unassailable. But the +duty is so imperative! The Duke had taught himself to believe that as +his wife would have been thrown away on the world had she been +allowed to marry Burgo Fitzgerald, so would his daughter be thrown +away were she allowed to marry Mr. Tregear. Therefore the theory of +spontaneous love must in this case be set aside. Therefore the +spark,—would that it had been no more!—must be quenched. Therefore +there could be no union of two lovers;—but simply a prudent and +perhaps splendid marriage.</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt was a man in possession of a large estate which was +unencumbered. His rank in the peerage was not high; but his barony +was of an old date,—and, if things went well with him, something +higher in rank might be open to him. He had good looks of that sort +which recommend themselves to pastors and masters, to elders and +betters. He had regular features. He looked as though he were steady. +He was not impatient nor rollicking. Silverbridge was also +good-looking;—but his good looks were such as would give a pang to +the hearts of anxious mothers of daughters. Tregear was the +handsomest man of the three;—but then he looked as though he had no +betters and did not care for his elders. Lord Popplecourt, though a +very young man, had once stammered through half-a-dozen words in the +House of Lords, and had been known to dine with the "Benevolent +Funds." Lord Silverbridge had declared him to be a fool. No one +thought him to be bright. But in the eyes of the Duke,—and of Lady +Cantrip,—he had his good qualities.</p> + +<p>But the work was very disagreeable. It was the more hard upon Lady +Cantrip because she did not believe in it. If it could be done, it +would be expedient. But she felt very strongly that it could not be +done. No doubt that Lady Glencora had been turned from her evil +destiny; but Lady Glencora had been younger than her daughter was +now, and possessed of less character. Nor was Lady Cantrip blind to +the difference between a poor man with a bad character, such as that +Burgo had been, and a poor man with a good character, such as was +Tregear. Nevertheless she undertook to aid the work, and condescended +to pretend to be so interested in the portrait of some common +ancestor as to persuade the young man to have it photographed, in +order that the bringing down of the photograph might lead to +something.</p> + +<p>He took the photograph, and Lady Cantrip said very much to him about +his grandmother, who was the old lady in question. "She could," she +said, "just remember the features of the dear old woman." She was not +habitually a hypocrite, and she hated herself for what she was doing, +and yet her object was simply good,—to bring together two young +people who might advantageously marry each other. The mere talking +about the old woman would be of no service. She longed to bring out +the offer plainly, and say, "There is Lady Mary Palliser. Don't you +think she'd make a good wife for you?" But she could not, as yet, +bring herself to be so indelicately plain. "You haven't seen the Duke +since?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He spoke to me only yesterday in the House. I like the Duke."</p> + +<p>"If I may be allowed to say so, it would be for your advantage that +he should like you;—that is, if you mean to take a part in +politics."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall," said Popplecourt. "There isn't much else to do."</p> + +<p>"You don't go to races?" He shook his head. "I am glad of that," said +Lady Cantrip. "Nothing is so bad as the turf. I fear Lord +Silverbridge is devoting himself to the turf."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it can be good for any man to have much to do with +Major Tifto. I suppose Silverbridge knows what he's about."</p> + +<p>Here was an opportunity which might have been used. It would have +been so easy for her to glide from the imperfections of the brother +to the perfections of the sister. But she could not bring herself to +do it quite at once. She approached the matter however as nearly as +she could without making her grand proposition. She shook her head +sadly in reference to Silverbridge, and then spoke of the Duke. "His +father is so anxious about him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say."</p> + +<p>"I don't know any man who is more painfully anxious about his +children. He feels the responsibility so much since his wife's death. +There is Lady Mary."</p> + +<p>"She's all right, I should say."</p> + +<p>"All right! oh yes. But when a girl is possessed of so many +things,—rank, beauty, intelligence, large +<span class="nowrap">fortune,—"</span></p> + +<p>"Will Lady Mary have much?"</p> + +<p>"A large portion of her mother's money, I should say. When all these +things are joined together, a father of course feels most anxious as +to their disposal."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is clever."</p> + +<p>"Very clever," said Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"I think a girl may be too clever, you know," said Lord Popplecourt.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she may. But I know more who are too foolish. I am so much +obliged to you for the photograph."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it."</p> + +<p>"I really did mean that you should send a man down."</p> + +<p>On that occasion the two young people did not see each other. Lady +Mary did not come down, and Lady Cantrip lacked the courage to send +for her. As it was, might it not be possible that the young man +should be induced to make himself agreeable to the young lady without +any further explanation? But love-making between young people cannot +well take place unless they be brought together. There was a +difficulty in bringing them together at Richmond. The Duke had indeed +spoken of meeting Lord Popplecourt at dinner there;—but this was to +have followed the proposition which Lady Cantrip should make to him. +She could not yet make the proposition, and therefore she hardly knew +how to arrange the dinner. She was obliged at last to let the +wished-for lover go away without arranging anything. When the Duke +should have settled his autumn plans, then an attempt must be made to +induce Lord Popplecourt to travel in the same direction.</p> + +<p>That evening Lady Cantrip said a few words to Mary respecting the +proposed suitor. "There is nothing I have such a horror of as +gambling," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is dreadful."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to think that Nidderdale does not do anything of that +sort." It was perhaps on the cards that Nidderdale should do things +of which she knew nothing. "I hope Silverbridge does not bet."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he does."</p> + +<p>"There's Lord Popplecourt,—quite a young man,—with everything at +his own disposal, and a very large estate. Think of the evil he might +do if he were given that way."</p> + +<p>"Does he gamble?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. It must be such a comfort to his mother!"</p> + +<p>"He looks to me as though he never would do anything," said Lady +Mary. Then the subject was dropped.</p> + +<p>It was a week after this, towards the end of July, that the Duke +wrote a line to Lady Cantrip, apologising for what he had done, but +explaining that he had asked Lord Popplecourt to dine at The Horns on +a certain Sunday. He had, he said, been assured by Lord Cantrip that +such an arrangement would be quite convenient. It was clear from his +letter that he was much in earnest. Of course there was no reason why +the dinner should not be eaten. Only the speciality of the invitation +to Lord Popplecourt must not be so glaring that he himself should be +struck by the strangeness of it. There must be a little party made +up. Lord Nidderdale and his wife were therefore bidden to come down, +and Silverbridge, who at first consented rather unwillingly,—and +Lady Mabel Grex, as to whom the Duke made a special request that she +might be asked. This last invitation was sent express from Lady Mary, +and included Miss Cass. So the party was made up. The careful reader +will perceive that there were to be ten of them.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it odd papa wanting to have Lady Mabel?" Mary said to Lady +Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"Does he not know her, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"He hardly ever spoke to her. I'll tell you what; I expect +Silverbridge is going to marry her."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't he?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why he shouldn't. She is very beautiful, and very +clever. But if so, papa must know all about it. It does seem so odd +that papa of all people should turn match-maker, or even that he +should think of it."</p> + +<p>"So much is thrown upon him now," said Lady Cantrip</p> + +<p>"Poor papa!" Then she remembered herself, and spoke with a little +start. "Of course I am not thinking of myself. Arranging a marriage +is very different from preventing any one from marrying."</p> + +<p>"Whatever he may think to be his duty he will be sure to do it," said +the elder lady very solemnly.</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel was surprised by the invitation, but she was not slow to +accept it. "Papa will be here and will be so glad to meet you," Lady +Mary had said. Why should the Duke of Omnium wish to meet her? +"Silverbridge will be here too," Mary had gone on to say. "It is just +a family party. Papa, you know, is not going anywhere; nor am I." By +all this Lady Mabel's thoughts were much stirred, and her bosom +somewhat moved. And Silverbridge also was moved by it. Of course he +could not but remember that he had pledged himself to his father to +ask Lady Mabel to be his wife. He had faltered since. She had been, +he thought, unkind to him, or at any rate indifferent. He had surely +said enough to her to make her know what he meant; and yet she had +taken no trouble to meet him half way. And then Isabel Boncassen had +intervened. Now he was asked to dinner in a most unusual manner!</p> + +<p>Of all the guests invited Lord Popplecourt was perhaps the least +disturbed. He was quite alive to the honour of being noticed by the +Duke of Omnium, and alive also to the flattering courtesy shown to +him by Lady Cantrip. But justice would not be done him unless it were +acknowledged that he had as yet flattered himself with no hopes in +regard to Lady Mary Palliser. He, when he prepared himself for his +journey down to Richmond, thought much more of the Duke than of the +Duke's daughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I can drive you down if you like that kind of thing," +Silverbridge said to him on the Saturday evening.</p> + +<p>"And bring me back?"</p> + +<p>"If you will come when I am coming. I hate waiting for a fellow."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we leave at half-past ten."</p> + +<p>"I won't fix any time; but if we can't make it suit there'll be the +governor's carriage."</p> + +<p>"Will the Duke go down in his carriage?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. It's quicker and less trouble than the railway." Then +Lord Popplecourt reflected that he would certainly come back with the +Duke if he could so manage it, and there floated before his eyes +visions of under-secretaryships, all of which might owe their origin +to this proposed drive up from Richmond.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock on the Sunday evening Silverbridge called for Lord +Popplecourt. "Upon my word," said he, "I didn't ever expect to see +you in my cab."</p> + +<p>"Why not me especially?"</p> + +<p>"Because you're not one of our lot."</p> + +<p>"You'd sooner have Tifto, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't. Tifto is not at all a pleasant companion, though he +understands horses. You're going in for heavy politics, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Not particularly heavy."</p> + +<p>"If not, why on earth does my governor take you up? You won't mind my +smoking, I dare say." After this there was no conversation between +them.</p> + + +<p><a name="c35" id="c35"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV</h3> +<h3>"Don't You Think—?"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was pretty to see the Duke's reception of Lady Mabel. "I knew your +mother many years ago," he said, "when I was young myself. Her mother +and my mother were first cousins and dear friends." He held her hand +as he spoke and looked at her as though he meant to love her. Lady +Mabel saw that it was so. Could it be possible that the Duke had +heard anything;—that he should wish to receive her? She had told +herself and had told Miss Cassewary that though she had spared +Silverbridge, yet she knew that she would make him a good wife. If +the Duke thought so also, then surely she need not doubt.</p> + +<p>"I knew we were cousins," she said, "and have been so proud of the +connection! Lord Silverbridge does come and see us sometimes."</p> + +<p>Soon after that Silverbridge and Popplecourt came in. If the story of +the old woman in the portrait may be taken as evidence of a family +connexion between Lady Cantrip and Lord Popplecourt, everybody there +was more or less connected with everybody else. Nidderdale had been a +first cousin of Lady Glencora, and he had married a daughter of Lady +Cantrip. They were manifestly a family party,—thanks to the old +woman in the picture.</p> + +<p>It is a point of conscience among the—perhaps not ten thousand, but +say one thousand of bluest blood,—that everybody should know who +everybody is. Our Duke, though he had not given his mind much to the +pursuit, had nevertheless learned his lesson. It is a knowledge which +the possession of the blue blood itself produces. There are countries +with bluer blood than our own in which to be without such knowledge +is a crime.</p> + +<p>When the old lady in the portrait had been discussed, Popplecourt was +close to Lady Mary. They two had no idea why such vicinity had been +planned. The Duke knew, of course, and Lady Cantrip. Lady Cantrip had +whispered to her daughter that such a marriage would be suitable, and +the daughter had hinted it to her husband. Lord Cantrip of course was +not in the dark. Lady Mabel had expressed a hint on the matter to +Miss Cass, who had not repudiated it. Even Silverbridge had suggested +to himself that something of the kind might be in the wind, thinking +that, if so, none of them knew much about his sister Mary. But +Popplecourt himself was divinely innocent. His ideas of marriage had +as yet gone no farther than a conviction that girls generally were +things which would be pressed on him, and against which he must arm +himself with some shield. Marriage would have to come, no doubt; but +not the less was it his duty to live as though it were a pit towards +which he would be tempted by female allurements. But that a net +should be spread over him here he was much too humble-minded to +imagine.</p> + +<p>"Very hot," he said to Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"We found it warm in church to-day."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. I came down here with your brother in his hansom cab. +What a very odd thing to have a hansom cab!"</p> + +<p>"I should like one."</p> + +<p>"Should you indeed?"</p> + +<p>"Particularly if I could drive it myself. Silverbridge does, at +night, when he thinks people won't see him."</p> + +<p>"Drive the cab in the streets! What does he do with his man?"</p> + +<p>"Puts him inside. He was out once without the man and took up a +fare,—an old woman, he said. And when she was going to pay him he +touched his hat and said he never took money from ladies."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. I call that good fun, because it did no harm. He had his +lark. The lady was taken where she wanted to go, and she saved her +money."</p> + +<p>"Suppose he had upset her," said Lord Popplecourt, looking as an old +philosopher might have looked when he had found some clenching answer +to another philosopher's argument.</p> + +<p>"The real cabman might have upset her worse," said Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"Don't you feel it odd that we should meet here?" said Lord +Silverbridge to his neighbour, Lady Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Anything unexpected is odd," said Lady Mabel. It seemed to her to be +very odd,—unless certain people had made up their minds as to the +expediency of a certain event.</p> + +<p>"That is what you call logic;—isn't it? Anything unexpected is odd!"</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge, I won't be laughed at. You have been at Oxford +and ought to know what logic is."</p> + +<p>"That at any rate is ill-natured," he replied, turning very red in +the face.</p> + +<p>"You don't think I meant it. Oh, Lord Silverbridge, say that you +don't think I meant it. You cannot think I would willingly wound you. +Indeed, indeed, I was not thinking." It had in truth been an +accident. She could not speak aloud because they were closely +surrounded by others, but she looked up in his face to see whether he +were angry with her. "Say that you do not think I meant it."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you meant it."</p> + +<p>"I would not say a word to hurt you,—oh, for more than I can tell +you."</p> + +<p>"It is all bosh, of course," he said laughing; "but I do not like to +hear the old place named. I have always made a fool of myself. Some +men do it and don't care about it. But I do it, and yet it makes me +miserable."</p> + +<p>"If that be so you will soon give over making—what you call a fool +of yourself. For myself I like the idea of wild oats. I look upon +them like measles. Only you should have a doctor ready when the +disease shows itself."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a doctor ought I to have?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—you must find out that yourself. That sort of feeling which +makes you feel miserable;—that is a doctor itself."</p> + +<p>"Or a wife?"</p> + +<p>"Or a wife,—if you can find a good one. There are wives, you know, +who aggravate the disease. If I had a fast husband I should make him +faster by being fast myself. There is nothing I envy so much as the +power of doing half-mad things."</p> + +<p>"Women can do that too."</p> + +<p>"But they go to the dogs. We are dreadfully restricted. If you like +champagne you can have a bucketful. I am obliged to pretend that I +only want a very little. You can bet thousands. I must confine myself +to gloves. You can flirt with any woman you please. I must wait till +somebody comes,—and put up with it if nobody does come."</p> + +<p>"Plenty come, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"But I want to pick and choose. A man turns the girls over one after +another as one does the papers when one is fitting up a room, or +rolls them out as one rolls out the carpets. A very careful young man +like Lord Popplecourt might reject a young woman because her hair +didn't suit the colour of his furniture."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that I shall choose my wife as I would papers and +carpets."</p> + +<p>The Duke, who sat between Lady Cantrip and her daughter, did his best +to make himself agreeable. The conversation had been +semi-political,—political to the usual feminine extent, and had +consisted chiefly of sarcasms from Lady Cantrip against Sir Timothy +Beeswax. "That England should put up with such a man," Lady Cantrip +had said, "is to me shocking! There used to be a feeling in favour of +gentlemen." To this the Duke had responded by asserting that Sir +Timothy had displayed great aptitude for parliamentary life, and knew +the House of Commons better than most men. He said nothing against +his foe, and very much in his foe's praise. But Lady Cantrip +perceived that she had succeeded in pleasing him.</p> + +<p>When the ladies were gone the politics became more serious. "That +unfortunate quarrel is to go on the same as ever, I suppose," said +the Duke, addressing himself to the two young men who had seats in +the House of Commons. They were both on the Conservative side in +politics. The three peers present were all Liberals.</p> + +<p>"Till next Session, I think, sir," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Sir Timothy, though he did lose his temper, has managed it well," +said Lord Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"Phineas Finn lost his temper worse than Sir Timothy," said Lord +Nidderdale.</p> + +<p>"But yet I think he had the feeling of the House with him," said the +Duke. "I happened to be present in the gallery at the time."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Nidderdale, "because he 'owned up.' The fact is if you +'own up' in a genial sort of way the House will forgive anything. If +I were to murder my grandmother, and when questioned about it were to +acknowledge that I had done it—" Then Lord Nidderdale stood up and +made his speech as he might have made it in the House of Commons. "'I +regret to say, sir, that the old woman did get in my way when I was +in a passion. Unfortunately I had a heavy stick in my hand and I did +strike her over the head. Nobody can regret it so much as I do! +Nobody can feel so acutely the position in which I am placed! I have +sat in this House for many years, and many gentlemen know me well. I +think, Sir, that they will acknowledge that I am a man not deficient +in filial piety or general humanity. Sir, I am sorry for what I did +in a moment of heat. I have now spoken the truth, and I shall leave +myself in the hands of the House.' My belief is I should get such a +round of applause as I certainly shall never achieve in any other +way. It is not only that a popular man may do it,—like Phineas +Finn,—but the most unpopular man in the House may make himself liked +by owning freely that he has done something that he ought to be +ashamed of." Nidderdale's unwonted eloquence was received in good +part by the assembled legislators.</p> + +<p>"Taking it altogether," said the Duke, "I know of no assembly in any +country in which good-humour prevails so generally, in which the +members behave to each other so well, in which rules are so +universally followed, or in which the president is so thoroughly +sustained by the feeling of the members."</p> + +<p>"I hear men say that it isn't quite what it used to be," said +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Nothing will ever be quite what it used to be."</p> + +<p>"Changes for the worse, I mean. Men are doing all kinds of things, +just because the rules of the House allow them."</p> + +<p>"If they be within rule," said the Duke, "I don't know who is to +blame them. In my time, if any man stretched a rule too far the House +would not put up with it."</p> + +<p>"That's just it," said Nidderdale. "The House puts up with anything +now. There is a great deal of good feeling no doubt, but there's no +earnestness about anything. I think you are more earnest than we; but +then you are such horrid bores. And each earnest man is in earnest +about something that nobody else cares for."</p> + +<p>When they were again in the drawing-room, Lord Popplecourt was seated +next to Lady Mary. "Where are you going this autumn?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know in the least. Papa said something about going abroad."</p> + +<p>"You won't be at Custins?" Custins was Lord Cantrip's country seat in +Dorsetshire.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about myself as yet. But I don't think I shall go +anywhere unless papa goes too."</p> + +<p>"Lady Cantrip has asked me to be at Custins in the middle of October. +They say it is about the best pheasant-shooting in England."</p> + +<p>"Do you shoot much?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal. I shall be in Scotland on the Twelfth. I and Reginald +Dobbes have a place together. I shall get to my own partridges on the +1st of September. I always manage that. Popplecourt is in Suffolk, +and I don't think any man in England can beat me for partridges."</p> + +<p>"What do you do with all you slay?"</p> + +<p>"Leadenhall Market. I make it pay,—or very nearly. Then I shall run +back to Scotland for the end of the stalking, and I can easily manage +to be at Custins by the middle of October. I never touch my own +pheasants till November."</p> + +<p>"Why are you so abstemious?"</p> + +<p>"The birds are heavier and it answers better. But if I thought you +would be at Custins it would be much nicer." Lady Mary again told him +that as yet she knew nothing of her father's autumn movements.</p> + +<p>But at the same time the Duke was arranging his autumn movements, or +at any rate those of his daughter. Lady Cantrip had told him that the +desirable son-in-law had promised to go to Custins, and suggested +that he and Mary should also be there. In his daughter's name he +promised, but he would not bind himself. Would it not be better that +he should be absent? Now that the doing of this thing was brought +nearer to him so that he could see and feel its details, he was +disgusted by it. And yet it had answered so well with his wife!</p> + +<p>"Is Lord Popplecourt intimate here?" Lady Mabel asked her friend, +Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I am not."</p> + +<p>"Lady Cantrip seems to think a great deal about him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. I don't."</p> + +<p>"Your father seems to like him."</p> + +<p>"That's possible too. They're going back to London together in the +governor's carriage. My father will talk high politics all the way, +and Popplecourt will agree with everything."</p> + +<p>"He isn't intended to—to—? You know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"I can't say that I do."</p> + +<p>"To cut out poor Frank."</p> + +<p>"It's quite possible."</p> + +<p>"Poor Frank!"</p> + +<p>"You had a great deal better say poor Popplecourt!—or poor governor, +or poor Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"But a hundred countesses can't make your sister marry a man she +doesn't like."</p> + +<p>"Just that. They don't go the right way about it."</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Leave her alone. Let her find out gradually that what she wants +can't be done."</p> + +<p>"And so linger on for years," said Lady Mabel reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about that. The man is my friend."</p> + +<p>"And you ought to be proud of him."</p> + +<p>"I never knew anybody yet that was proud of his friends. I like him +well enough, but I can quite understand that the governor should +object."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we all know that," said she sadly.</p> + +<p>"What would your father say if you wanted to marry someone who hadn't +a shilling?"</p> + +<p>"I should object myself,—without waiting for my father. But +then,—neither have I a shilling. If I had money, do you think I +wouldn't like to give it to the man I loved?"</p> + +<p>"But this is a case of giving somebody else's money. They won't make +her give it up by bringing such a young ass as that down here. If my +father has persistency enough to let her cry her eyes out, he'll +succeed."</p> + +<p>"And break her heart. Could you do that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. But then I'm soft. I can't refuse."</p> + +<p>"Can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Not if the person who asks me is in my good books. You try me."</p> + +<p>"What shall I ask for?"</p> + +<p>"Anything."</p> + +<p>"Give me that ring off your finger," she said. He at once took it off +his hand. "Of course you know I am in joke. You don't imagine that I +would take it from you?" He still held it towards her. "Lord +Silverbridge, I expect that with you I may say a foolish word without +being brought to sorrow by it. I know that that ring belonged to your +great-uncle,—and to fifty Pallisers before."</p> + +<p>"What would it matter?"</p> + +<p>"And it would be wholly useless to me, as I could not wear it."</p> + +<p>"Of course it would be too big," said he, replacing the ring on his +own finger. "But when I talk of any one being in my good books, I +don't mean a thing like that. Don't you know there is nobody on earth +I—" there he paused and blushed, and she sat motionless, looking at +him expecting, with her colour too somewhat raised,—"whom I like so +well as I do you?" It was a lame conclusion. She felt it to be lame. +But as regarded him, the lameness at the moment had come from a +timidity which forbade him to say the word "love" even though he had +meant to say it.</p> + +<p>She recovered herself instantly. "I do believe it," she said. "I do +think that we are real friends."</p> + +<p>"Would you not take a ring from a—real friend?"</p> + +<p>"Not that ring;—nor a ring at all after I had asked for it in joke. +You understand it all. But to go back to what we were talking +about,—if you can do anything for Frank, pray do. You know it will +break her heart. A man of course bears it better, but he does not +perhaps suffer the less. It is all his life to him. He can do nothing +while this is going on. Are you not true enough to your friendship to +exert yourself for him?" Silverbridge put his hand up and rubbed his +head as though he were vexed. "Your aid would turn everything in his +favour."</p> + +<p>"You do not know my father."</p> + +<p>"Is he so inexorable?"</p> + +<p>"It is not that, Mabel. But he is so unhappy. I cannot add to his +unhappiness by taking part against him."</p> + +<p>In another part of the room Lady Cantrip was busy with Lord +Popplecourt. She had talked about pheasants, and had talked about +grouse, had talked about moving the address in the House of Lords in +some coming Session, and the great value of political alliances early +in life, till the young peer began to think that Lady Cantrip was the +nicest of women. Then after a short pause she changed the subject.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think Lady Mary very beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Uncommon," said his Lordship.</p> + +<p>"And her manners so perfect. She has all her mother's ease without +any of that— You know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Quite so," said his Lordship.</p> + +<p>"And then she has got so much in her."</p> + +<p>"Has she though?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know any girl of her age so thoroughly well educated. The +Duke seems to take to you."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes;—the Duke is very kind."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think—?"</p> + +<p>"Eh!"</p> + +<p>"You have heard of her mother's fortune?"</p> + +<p>"Tremendous!"</p> + +<p>"She will have, I take it, quite a third of it. Whatever I say I'm +sure you will take in confidence; but she is a dear dear girl; and I +am anxious for her happiness almost as though she belonged to me."</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt went back to town in the Duke's carriage, but was +unable to say a word about politics. His mind was altogether filled +with the wonderful words that had been spoken to him. Could it be +that Lady Mary had fallen violently in love with him? He would not at +once give himself up to the pleasing idea, having so thoroughly +grounded himself in the belief that female nets were to be avoided. +But when he got home he did think favourably of it. The daughter of a +Duke,—and such a Duke! So lovely a girl, and with such gifts! And +then a fortune which would make a material addition to his own large +property!</p> + + +<p><a name="c36" id="c36"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI</h3> +<h3>Tally-Ho Lodge<br /> </h3> + + +<p>We all know that very clever distich concerning the great fleas and +the little fleas which tells us that no animal is too humble to have +its parasite. Even Major Tifto had his inferior friend. This was a +certain Captain Green,—for the friend also affected military +honours. He was a man somewhat older than Tifto, of whose antecedents +no one was supposed to know anything. It was presumed of him that he +lived by betting, and it was boasted by those who wished to defend +his character that when he lost he paid his money like a gentleman. +Tifto during the last year or two had been anxious to support Captain +Green, and had always made use of this argument: "Where the +<span class="nowrap">d––––</span> he +gets his money I don't know;—but when he loses, there it is."</p> + +<p>Major Tifto had a little "box" of his own in the neighbourhood of +Egham, at which he had a set of stables a little bigger than his +house, and a set of kennels a little bigger than his stables. It was +here he kept his horses and hounds, and himself too when business +connected with his sporting life did not take him to town. It was now +the middle of August and he had come to Tally-ho Lodge, there to look +after his establishments, to make arrangements for cub-hunting, and +to prepare for the autumn racing campaign. On this occasion Captain +Green was enjoying his hospitality and assisting him by sage +counsels. Behind the little box was a little garden,—a garden that +was very little; but, still, thus close to the parlour window, there +was room for a small table to be put on the grass-plat, and for a +couple of armchairs. Here the Major and the Captain were seated about +eight o'clock one evening, with convivial good things within their +reach. The good things were gin-and-water and pipes. The two +gentlemen had not dressed strictly for dinner. They had spent a great +part of the day handling the hounds and the horses, dressing wounds, +curing sores, and ministering to canine ailments, and had been +detained over their work too long to think of their toilet. As it was +they had an eye to business. The stables at one corner and the +kennels at the other were close to the little garden, and the doings +of a man and a boy who were still at work among the animals could be +directed from the armchairs on which the two sportsmen were sitting.</p> + +<p>It must be explained that ever since the Silverbridge election there +had been a growing feeling in Tifto's mind that he had been +ill-treated by his partner. The feeling was strengthened by the +admirable condition of Prime Minister. Surely more consideration had +been due to a man who had produced such a state of things!</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't quarrel with him, but I'd make him pay his way," said the +prudent Captain.</p> + +<p>"As for that, of course he does pay—his share."</p> + +<p>"Who does all the work?"</p> + +<p>"That's true."</p> + +<p>"The fact is, Tifto, you don't make enough out of it. When a small +man like you has to deal with a big man like that, he may take it out +of him in one of two ways. But he must be deuced clever if he can get +it both ways."</p> + +<p>"What are you driving at?" asked Tifto, who did not like being called +a small man, feeling himself to be every inch a Master of foxhounds.</p> + +<p>"Why, this!—Look at that d–––– fellow +fretting that 'orse with a +switch. If you can't strap a 'orse without a stick in your hand, +don't you strap him at all, you—" Then there came a volley of abuse +out of the Captain's mouth, in the middle of which the man threw down +the rubber he was using and walked away.</p> + +<p>"You come back," halloed Tifto, jumping up from his seat with his +pipe in his mouth. Then there was a general quarrel between the man +and his two masters, in which the man at last was victorious. And the +horse was taken into the stable in an unfinished condition. "It's all +very well to say 'Get rid of him,' but where am I to get anybody +better? It has come to such a pass that now if you speak to a fellow +he walks out of the yard."</p> + +<p>They then returned to the state of affairs, as it was between Tifto +and Lord Silverbridge. "What I was saying is this," continued the +Captain. "If you choose to put yourself up to live with a fellow like +that on equal <span class="nowrap">terms—"</span></p> + +<p>"One gentleman with another, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Put it so. It don't quite hit it off, but put it so. Why then you +get your wages when you take his arm and call him Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I don't want wages from any man," said the indignant Major.</p> + +<p>"That comes from not knowing what wages is. I do want wages. If I do +a thing I like to be paid for it. You are paid for it after one +fashion, I prefer the other."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean he should give me—a salary?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have it out of him some way. What's the good of young chaps of +that sort if they aren't made to pay? You've got this young swell in +tow. He's going to be about the richest man in England;—and what the +deuce better are you for it?" Tifto sat meditating, thinking of the +wisdom which was being spoken. The same ideas had occurred to him. +The happy chance which had made him intimate with Lord Silverbridge +had not yet enriched him. "What is the good of chaps of that sort if +they are not made to pay?" The words were wise words. But yet how +glorious he had been when he was elected at the Beargarden, and had +entered the club as the special friend of the heir of the Duke of +Omnium.</p> + +<p>After a short pause, Captain Green pursued his discourse. "You said +salary."</p> + +<p>"I did mention the word."</p> + +<p>"Salary and wages is one. A salary is a nice thing if it's paid +regular. I had a salary once myself for looking after a stud of +'orses at Newmarket, only the gentleman broke up and it never went +very far."</p> + +<p>"Was that Marley Bullock?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that was Marley Bullock. He's abroad somewhere now with nothing +a year paid quarterly to live on. I think he does a little at cards. +He'd had a good bit of money once, but most of it was gone when he +came my way."</p> + +<p>"You didn't make by him?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't lose nothing. I didn't have a lot of 'orses under me +without getting something out of it."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do?" asked Tifto. "I can sell him a horse now and +again. But if I give him anything good there isn't much to come out +of that."</p> + +<p>"Very little I should say. Don't he put his money on his 'orses?"</p> + +<p>"Not very free. I think he's coming out freer now."</p> + +<p>"What did he stand to win on the Derby?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand or two perhaps."</p> + +<p>"There may be something got handsome out of that," said the Captain, +not venturing to allow his voice to rise above a whisper. Major Tifto +looked hard at him but said nothing. "Of course you must see your +way."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Race 'orses are expensive animals,—and races generally is +expensive."</p> + +<p>"That's true."</p> + +<p>"When so much is dropped, somebody has to pick it up. That's what +I've always said to myself. I'm as honest as another man."</p> + +<p>"That's of course," said the Major civilly.</p> + +<p>"But if I don't keep my mouth shut, somebody 'll have my teeth out of +my head. Every one for himself and God for us all. I suppose there's +a deal of money flying about. He'll put a lot of money on this 'orse +of yours for the Leger if he's managed right. There's more to be got +out of that than calling him Silverbridge and walking arm-in-arm. +Business is business. I don't know whether I make myself understood."</p> + +<p>The gentleman did not quite make himself understood; but Tifto +endeavoured to read the riddle. He must in some way make money out of +his friend Lord Silverbridge. Hitherto he had contented himself with +the brilliancy of the connection; but now his brilliant friend had +taken to snubbing him, and had on more than one occasion made himself +disagreeable. It seemed to him that Captain Green counselled him to +put up with that, but counselled him at the same time to—pick up +some of his friend's money. He didn't think that he could ask Lord +Silverbridge for a salary—he who was a Master of Fox-hounds, and a +member of the Beargarden. Then his friend had suggested something +about the young lord's bets. He was endeavouring to unriddle all this +with a brain that was already somewhat muddled with alcohol, when +Captain Green got up from his chair and standing over the Major spoke +his last words for that night as from an oracle. "Square is all very +well, as long as others are square to you;—but when they aren't, +then I say square be <span class="nowrap">d––––.</span> +Square! what comes of it? Work your heart +out, and then it's no good."</p> + +<p>The Major thought about it much that night, and was thinking about it +still when he awoke on the next morning. He would like to make Lord +Silverbridge pay for his late insolence. It would answer his purpose +to make a little money,—as he told himself,—in any honest way. At +the present moment he was in want of money, and on looking into his +affairs declared to himself that he had certainly impoverished +himself by his devotion to Lord Silverbridge's interests. At +breakfast on the following morning he endeavoured to bring his friend +back to the subject. But the Captain was cross, rather than oracular. +"Everybody," he said, "ought to know his own business. He wasn't +going to meddle or make. What he had said had been taken amiss." This +was hard upon Tifto, who had taken nothing amiss.</p> + +<p>"Square be d––––!" There was a +great deal in the lesson there +enunciated which demanded consideration. Hitherto the Major had +fought his battles with a certain adherence to squareness. If his +angles had not all been perfect angles, still there had always been +an attempt at geometrical accuracy. He might now and again have told +a lie about a horse—but who that deals in horses has not done that? +He had been alive to the value of underhand information from +racing-stables, but who won't use a tip if he can get it? He had lied +about the expense of his hounds, in order to enhance the subscription +of his members. Those were things which everybody did in his line. +But Green had meant something beyond this.</p> + +<p>As far as he could see out in the world at large, nobody was square. +You had to keep your mouth shut, or your teeth would be stolen out of +it. He didn't look into a paper without seeing that on all sides of +him men had abandoned the idea of squareness. Chairmen, directors, +members of Parliament, ambassadors,—all the world, as he told +himself,—were trying to get on by their wits. He didn't see why he +should be more square than anybody else. Why hadn't Silverbridge +taken him down to Scotland for the grouse?</p> + + +<p><a name="c37" id="c37"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII</h3> +<h3>Grex<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Far away from all known places, in the northern limit of the Craven +district, on the borders of Westmorland but in Yorkshire, there +stands a large, rambling, most picturesque old house called Grex. The +people around call it the Castle, but it is not a castle. It is an +old brick building supposed to have been erected in the days of James +the First, having oriel windows, twisted chimneys, long galleries, +gable ends, a quadrangle of which the house surrounds three sides, +terraces, sun-dials, and fish-ponds. But it is so sadly out of repair +as to be altogether unfit for the residence of a gentleman and his +family. It stands not in a park, for the land about it is divided +into paddocks by low stone walls, but in the midst of lovely scenery, +the ground rising all round it in low irregular hills or fells, and +close to it, a quarter of a mile from the back of the house, there is +a small dark lake, not serenely lovely as are some of the lakes in +Westmorland, but attractive by the darkness of its waters and the +gloom of the woods around it.</p> + +<p>This is the country seat of Earl Grex,—which however he had not +visited for some years. Gradually the place had got into such a +condition that his absence is not surprising. An owner of Grex, with +large means at his disposal and with a taste for the picturesque to +gratify,—one who could afford to pay for memories and who was +willing to pay dearly for such luxuries, might no doubt restore Grex. +But the Earl had neither the money nor the taste.</p> + +<p>Lord Grex had latterly never gone near the place, nor was his son +Lord Percival fond of looking upon the ruin of his property. But Lady +Mabel loved it with a fond love. With all her lightness of spirit she +was prone to memories, prone to melancholy, prone at times almost to +seek the gratification of sorrow. Year after year when the London +season was over she would come down to Grex and spend a week or two +amidst its desolation. She was now going on to a seat in Scotland +belonging to Mrs. Montacute Jones called Killancodlem; but she was in +the meanwhile passing a desolate fortnight at Grex in company with +Miss Cassewary. The gardens were let,—and being let of course were +not kept in further order than as profit might require. The man who +rented them lived in the big house with his wife, and they on such +occasions as this would cook and wait upon Lady Mabel.</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel was at the home of her ancestors, and the faithful Miss +Cass was with her. But at the moment and at the spot at which the +reader shall see her, Miss Cass was not with her. She was sitting on +a rock about twelve feet above the lake looking upon the black water; +and on another rock a few feet from her was seated Frank Tregear. +"No," she said, "you should not have come. Nothing can justify it. Of +course as you are here I could not refuse to come out with you. To +make a fuss about it would be the worst of all. But you should not +have come."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Whom does it hurt? It is a pleasure to me. If it be the +reverse to you, I will go."</p> + +<p>"Men are so unmanly. They take such mean advantages. You know it is a +pleasure to me to see you."</p> + +<p>"I had hoped so."</p> + +<p>"But it is a pleasure I ought not to have,—at least not here."</p> + +<p>"That is what I do not understand," said he. "In London, where the +Earl could bark at me if he happened to find me, I could see the +inconvenience of it. But here, where there is nobody but Miss +<span class="nowrap">Cass—"</span></p> + +<p>"There are a great many others. There are the rooks, and stones, and +old women;—all of which have ears."</p> + +<p>"But of what is there to be ashamed? There is nothing in the world to +me so pleasant as the companionship of my friends."</p> + +<p>"Then go after Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I mean to do so;—but I am taking you by the way."</p> + +<p>"It is all unmanly," she said, rising from her stone; "you know that +it is so. Friends! Do you mean to say that it would make no +difference whether you were here with me or with Miss Cass?"</p> + +<p>"The greatest difference in the world."</p> + +<p>"Because she is an old woman and I am a young one, and because in +intercourse between young men and young women there is something +dangerous to the women and therefore pleasant to the men."</p> + +<p>"I never heard anything more unjust. You cannot think I desire +anything injurious to you."</p> + +<p>"I do think so." She was still standing and spoke now with great +vehemence. "I do think so. You force me to throw aside the reticence +I ought to keep. Would it help me in my prospects if your friend Lord +Silverbridge knew that I was here?"</p> + +<p>"How should he know?"</p> + +<p>"But if he did? Do you suppose that I want to have visits paid to me +of which I am afraid to speak? Would you dare to tell Lady Mary that +you had been sitting alone with me on the rocks at Grex?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I would."</p> + +<p>"Then it would be because you have not dared to tell her certain +other things which have gone before. You have sworn to her no doubt +that you love her better than all the world."</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"And you have taken the trouble to come here to tell me that,—to +wound me to the core by saying so; to show me that, though I may +still be sick, you have recovered,—that is if you ever suffered! Go +your way and let me go mine. I do not want you."</p> + +<p>"Mabel!"</p> + +<p>"I do not want you. I know you will not help me, but you need not +destroy me."</p> + +<p>"You know that you are wronging me."</p> + +<p>"No! You understand it all though you look so calm. I hate your Lady +Mary Palliser. There! But if by anything I could do I could secure +her to you I would do it,—because you want it."</p> + +<p>"She will be your sister-in-law,—probably."</p> + +<p>"Never. It will never be so."</p> + +<p>"Why do you hate her?"</p> + +<p>"There again! You are so little of a man that you can ask me why!" +Then she turned away as though she intended to go down to the marge +of the lake.</p> + +<p>But he rose up and stopped her. "Let us have this out, Mabel, before +we go," he said. "Unmanly is a heavy word to hear from you, and you +have used it a dozen times."</p> + +<p>"It is because I have thought it a thousand times. Go and get her if +you can;—but why tell me about it?"</p> + +<p>"You said you would help me."</p> + +<p>"So I would, as I would help you do anything you might want; but you +can hardly think that after what has passed I can wish to hear about +her."</p> + +<p>"It was you spoke of her."</p> + +<p>"I told you you should not be here,—because of her and because of +me. And I tell you again, I hate her. Do you think I can hear you +speak of her as though she were the only woman you had ever seen +without feeling it? Did you ever swear that you loved any one else?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, I have so sworn."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever said that nothing could alter that love?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I have."</p> + +<p>"But it is altered. It has all gone. It has been transferred to one +who has more advantages of beauty, youth, wealth, and position."</p> + +<p>"Oh Mabel, Mabel!"</p> + +<p>"But it is so."</p> + +<p>"When you say this do you not think of yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I have never been false to any one. You are false to me."</p> + +<p>"Have I not offered to face all the world with you?"</p> + +<p>"You would not offer it now?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, after a pause,—"not now. Were I to do so, I should be +false. You bade me take my love elsewhere, and I did so."</p> + +<p>"With the greatest ease."</p> + +<p>"We agreed it should be so; and you have done the same."</p> + +<p>"That is false. Look me in the face and tell me whether you do not +know it to be false!"</p> + +<p>"And yet I am told that I am injuring you with Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Oh,—so unmanly again! Of course I have to marry. Who does not know +it? Do you want to see me begging my bread about the streets? You +have bread; or if not, you might earn it. If you marry for +<span class="nowrap">money—"</span></p> + +<p>"The accusation is altogether unjustifiable."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to finish what I have to say. If you marry for money you +will do that which is in itself bad, and which is also unnecessary. +What other course would you recommend me to take? No one goes into +the gutter while there is a clean path open. If there be no escape +but through the gutter, one has to take it."</p> + +<p>"You mean that my duty to you should have kept me from marrying all +my life."</p> + +<p>"Not that;—but a little while, Frank; just a little while. Your +bloom is not fading; your charms are not running from you. Have you +not a strength which I cannot have? Do you not feel that you are a +tree, standing firm in the ground, while I am a bit of ivy that will +be trodden in the dirt unless it can be made to cling to something? +You should not liken yourself to me, Frank."</p> + +<p>"If I could do you any good!"</p> + +<p>"Good! What is the meaning of good? If you love, it is good to be +loved again. It is good not to have your heart torn in pieces. You +know that I love you." He was standing close to her, and put out his +hand as though he would twine his arm round her waist. "Not for +worlds," she said. "It belongs to that Palliser girl. And as I have +taught myself to think that what there is left of me may perhaps +belong to some other one, worthless as it is, I will keep it for him. +I love you,—but there can be none of that softness of love between +us." Then there was a pause, but as he did not speak she went on. +"But remember, Frank,—our position is not equal. You have got over +your little complaint. It probably did not go deep with you, and you +have found a cure. Perhaps there is a satisfaction in finding that +two young women love you."</p> + +<p>"You are trying to be cruel to me."</p> + +<p>"Why else should you be here? You know I love you,—with all my +heart, with all my strength, and that I would give the world to cure +myself. Knowing this, you come and talk to me of your passion for +this other girl."</p> + +<p>"I had hoped we might both talk rationally as friends."</p> + +<p>"Friends! Frank Tregear, I have been bold enough to tell you I love +you; but you are not my friend, and cannot be my friend. If I have +before asked you to help me in this mean catastrophe of mine, in my +attack upon that poor boy, I withdraw my request. I think I will go +back to the house now."</p> + +<p>"I will walk back to Ledburgh if you wish it without going to the +house again."</p> + +<p>"No; I will have nothing that looks like being ashamed. You ought not +to have come, but you need not run away." Then they walked back to +the house together and found Miss Cassewary on the terrace. "We have +been to the lake," said Mabel, "and have been talking of old days. I +have but one ambition now in the world." Of course Miss Cassewary +asked what the remaining ambition was. "To get money enough to +purchase this place from the ruins of the Grex property. If I could +own the house and the lake, and the paddocks about, and had enough +income to keep one servant and bread for us to eat—of course +including you, Miss <span class="nowrap">Cass—"</span></p> + +<p>"Thank'ee, my dear; but I am not sure I should like it."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you would. Frank would come and see us perhaps once a year. I +don't suppose anybody else cares about the place, but to me it is the +dearest spot in the world." So she went on in almost high spirits, +though alluding to the general decadence of the Grex family, till +Tregear took his leave.</p> + +<p>"I wish he had not come," said Miss Cassewary when he was gone.</p> + +<p>"Why should you wish that? There is not so much here to amuse me that +you should begrudge me a stray visitor."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that I grudge you anything in the way of pleasure, my +dear; but still he should not have come. My Lord, if he knew it, +would be angry."</p> + +<p>"Then let him be angry. Papa does not do so much for me that I am +bound to think of him at every turn."</p> + +<p>"But I am,—or rather I am bound to think of myself, if I take his +bread."</p> + +<p>"Bread!"</p> + +<p>"Well;—I do take his bread, and I take it on the understanding that +I will be to you what a mother might be,—or an aunt."</p> + +<p>"Well,—and if so! Had I a mother living would not Frank Tregear have +come to visit her, and in visiting her, would he not have seen +me,—and should we not have walked out together?"</p> + +<p>"Not after all that has come and gone."</p> + +<p>"But you are not a mother nor yet an aunt, and you have to do just +what I tell you. And don't I know that you trust me in all things? +And am I not trustworthy?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are trustworthy."</p> + +<p>"I know what my duty is and I mean to do it. No one shall ever have +to say of me that I have given way to self-indulgence. I couldn't +help his coming, you know."</p> + +<p>That same night, after Miss Cassewary had gone to bed, when the moon +was high in the heavens and the world around her was all asleep, Lady +Mabel again wandered out to the lake, and again seated herself on the +same rock, and there she sat thinking of her past life and trying to +think of that before her. It is so much easier to think of the past +than of the future,—to remember what has been than to resolve what +shall be! She had reminded him of the offer which he had made and +repeated to her more than once,—to share with her all his chances in +life. There would have been almost no income for them. All the world +would have been against her. She would have caused his ruin. Her +light on the matter had been so clear that it had not taken her very +long to decide that such a thing must not be thought of. She had at +last been quite stern in her decision.</p> + +<p>Now she was broken-hearted because she found that he had left her in +very truth. Oh yes;—she would marry the boy, if she could so +arrange. Since that meeting at Richmond he had sent her the ring +reset. She was to meet him down in Scotland within a week or two from +the present time. Mrs. Montacute Jones had managed that. He had all +but offered to her a second time at Richmond. But all that would not +serve to make her happy. She declared to herself that she did not +wish to see Frank Tregear again; but still it was a misery to her +that his heart should in truth be given to another woman.</p> + + +<p><a name="c38" id="c38"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h3> +<h3>Crummie-Toddie<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Almost at the last moment Silverbridge and his brother Gerald were +induced to join Lord Popplecourt's shooting-party in Scotland. The +party perhaps might more properly be called the party of Reginald +Dobbes, who was a man knowing in such matters. It was he who made the +party up. Popplecourt and Silverbridge were to share the expense +between them, each bringing three guns. Silverbridge brought his +brother and Frank Tregear,—having refused a most piteous petition on +the subject from Major Tifto. With Popplecourt of course came +Reginald Dobbes, who was, in truth, to manage everything, and Lord +Nidderdale, whose wife had generously permitted him this recreation. +The shooting was in the west of Perthshire, known as Crummie-Toddie, +and comprised an enormous acreage of so-called forest and moor. Mr. +Dobbes declared that nothing like it had as yet been produced in +Scotland. Everything had been made to give way to deer and grouse. +The thing had been managed so well that the tourist nuisance had been +considerably abated. There was hardly a potato patch left in the +district, nor a head of cattle to be seen. There were no inhabitants +remaining, or so few that they could be absorbed in game-preserving +or cognate duties. Reginald Dobbes, who was very great at grouse, and +supposed to be capable of outwitting a deer by venatical wiles more +perfectly than any other sportsman in Great Britain, regarded +Crummie-Toddie as the nearest thing there was to a Paradise on earth. +Could he have been allowed to pass one or two special laws for his +own protection, there might still have been improvement. He would +like the right to have all intruders thrashed by the gillies within +an inch of their lives; and he would have had a clause in his lease +against the making of any new roads, opening of footpaths, or +building of bridges. He had seen somewhere in print a plan for +running a railway from Callender to Fort Augustus right through +Crummie-Toddie! If this were done in his time the beauty of the world +would be over. Reginald Dobbes was a man of about forty, strong, +active, well-made, about five feet ten in height, with broad +shoulders and greatly-developed legs. He was not a handsome man, +having a protrusive nose, high cheek-bones, and long upper lip; but +there was a manliness about his face which redeemed it. Sport was the +business of his life, and he thoroughly despised all who were not +sportsmen. He fished and shot and hunted during nine or ten months of +the year, filling up his time as best he might with coaching polo, +and pigeon-shooting. He regarded it as a great duty to keep his body +in the firmest possible condition. All his eating and all his +drinking was done upon a system, and he would consider himself to be +guilty of weak self-indulgence were he to allow himself to break +through sanitary rules. But it never occurred to him that his whole +life was one of self-indulgence. He could walk his thirty miles with +his gun on his shoulder as well now as he could ten years ago; and +being sure of this, was thoroughly contented with himself. He had a +patrimony amounting to perhaps £1000 a year, which he husbanded so as +to enjoy all his amusements to perfection. No one had ever heard of +his sponging on his friends. Of money he rarely spoke, sport being in +his estimation the only subject worthy of a man's words. Such was +Reginald Dobbes, who was now to be the master of the shooting at +Crummie-Toddie.</p> + +<p>Crummie-Toddie was but twelve miles from Killancodlem, Mrs. Montacute +Jones's highland seat; and it was this vicinity which first induced +Lord Silverbridge to join the party. Mabel Grex was to be at +Killancodlem, and, determined as he still was to ask her to be his +wife, he would make this his opportunity. Of real opportunity there +had been none at Richmond. Since he had had his ring altered and had +sent it to her there had come but a word or two of answer. "What am I +to say? You unkindest of men! To keep it or to send it back would +make me equally miserable. I shall keep it till you are married, and +then give it to your wife." This affair of the ring had made him more +intent than ever. After that he heard that Isabel Boncassen would +also be at Killancodlem, having been induced to join Mrs. Montacute +Jones's swarm of visitors. Though he was dangerously devoid of +experience, still he felt that this was unfortunate. He intended to +marry Mabel Grex. And he could assure himself that he thoroughly +loved her. Nevertheless he liked making love to Isabel Boncassen. He +was quite willing to marry and settle down, and looked forward with +satisfaction to having Mabel Grex for his wife. But it would be +pleasant to have a six-months run of flirting and love-making before +this settlement, and he had certainly never seen any one with whom +this would be so delightful as with Miss Boncassen. But that the two +ladies should be at the same house was unfortunate.</p> + +<p>He and Gerald reached Crummie-Toddie late on the evening of August +11th, and found Reginald Dobbes alone. That was on Wednesday. +Popplecourt and Nidderdale ought to have made their appearance on +that morning, but had telegraphed to say that they would be detained +two days on their route. Tregear, whom hitherto Dobbes had never +seen, had left his arrival uncertain. This carelessness on such +matters was very offensive to Mr. Dobbes, who loved discipline and +exactitude. He ought to have received the two young men with open +arms because they were punctual; but he had been somewhat angered by +what he considered the extreme youth of Lord Gerald. Boys who could +not shoot were, he thought, putting themselves forward before their +time. And Silverbridge himself was by no means a first-rate shot. +Such a one as Silverbridge had to be endured because from his +position and wealth he could facilitate such arrangements as these. +It was much to have to do with a man who would not complain if an +extra fifty pounds were wanted. But he ought to have understood that +he was bound in honour to bring down competent friends. Of Tregear's +shooting Dobbes had been able to learn nothing. Lord Gerald was a lad +from the Universities; and Dobbes hated University lads. Popplecourt +and Nidderdale were known to be efficient. They were men who could +work hard and do their part of the required slaughter. Dobbes proudly +knew that he could make up for some deficiency by his own prowess; +but he could not struggle against three bad guns. What was the use of +so perfecting Crummie-Toddie as to make it the best bit of ground for +grouse and deer in Scotland, if the men who came there failed by +their own incapacity to bring up the grand total of killed to a +figure which would render Dobbes and Crummie-Toddie famous throughout +the whole shooting world? He had been hard at work on other matters. +Dogs had gone amiss,—or guns, and he had been made angry by the +champagne which Popplecourt caused to be sent down. He knew what +champagne meant. Whisky-and-water, and not much of it, was the liquor +which Reginald Dobbes loved in the mountains.</p> + +<p>"Don't you call this a very ugly country?" Silverbridge asked as soon +as he arrived. Now it is the case that the traveller who travels into +Argyllshire, Perthshire, and Inverness, expects to find lovely +scenery; and it was also true that the country through which they had +passed for the last twenty miles had been not only bleak and barren, +but uninteresting and ugly. It was all rough open moorland, never +rising into mountains, and graced by no running streams, by no forest +scenery, almost by no foliage. The lodge itself did indeed stand +close upon a little river, and was reached by a bridge that crossed +it; but there was nothing pretty either in the river or the bridge. +It was a placid black little streamlet, which in that portion of its +course was hurried by no steepness, had no broken rocks in its bed, +no trees on its low banks, and played none of those gambols which +make running water beautiful. The bridge was a simple low +construction with a low parapet, carrying an ordinary roadway up to +the hall door. The lodge itself was as ugly as a house could be, +white, of two stories, with the door in the middle and windows on +each side, with a slate roof, and without a tree near it. It was in +the middle of the shooting, and did not create a town around itself +as do sumptuous mansions, to the great detriment of that seclusion +which is favourable to game. "Look at Killancodlem," Dobbes had been +heard to say—"a very fine house for ladies to flirt in; but if you +find a deer within six miles of it I will eat him first and shoot him +afterwards." There was a Spartan simplicity about Crummie-Toddie +which pleased the Spartan mind of Reginald Dobbes.</p> + +<p>"Ugly, do you call it?"</p> + +<p>"Infernally ugly," said Lord Gerald.</p> + +<p>"What did you expect to find? A big hotel, and a lot of cockneys? If +you come after grouse, you must come to what the grouse thinks +pretty."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, it is ugly," said Silverbridge, who did not choose to +be "sat upon." "I have been at shootings in Scotland before, and +sometimes they are not ugly. This I call beastly." Whereupon Reginald +Dobbes turned upon his heel and walked away.</p> + +<p>"Can you shoot?" he said afterwards to Lord Gerald.</p> + +<p>"I can fire off a gun, if you mean that," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"You have never shot much?"</p> + +<p>"Not what you call very much. I'm not so old as you are, you know. +Everything must have a beginning." Mr. Dobbes wished "the beginning" +might have taken place elsewhere; but there had been some truth in +the remark.</p> + +<p>"What on earth made you tell him crammers like that?" asked +Silverbridge, as the brothers sat together afterwards smoking on the +wall of the bridge.</p> + +<p>"Because he made an ass of himself; asking me whether I could shoot."</p> + +<p>On the next morning they started at seven. Dobbes had determined to +be cross, because, as he thought, the young men would certainly keep +him waiting; and was cross because by their punctuality they robbed +him of any just cause for offence. During the morning on the moor +they were hardly ever near enough each other for much conversation, +and very little was said. According to arrangement made they returned +to the house for lunch, it being their purpose not to go far from +home till their numbers were complete. As they came over the bridge +and put down their guns near the door, Mr. Dobbes spoke the first +good-humoured word they had heard from his lips. "Why did you tell me +such an infernal—, I would say lie, only perhaps you mightn't like +it?"</p> + +<p>"I told you no lie," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"You've only missed two birds all the morning, and you have shot +forty-two. That's uncommonly good sport."</p> + +<p>"What have you done?"</p> + +<p>"Only forty," and Mr. Dobbes seemed for the moment to be gratified by +his own inferiority. "You are a deuced sight better than your +brother."</p> + +<p>"Gerald's about the best shot I know," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he tell?"</p> + +<p>"Because you were angry when we said the place was ugly."</p> + +<p>"I see all about it," said Dobbes. "Nevertheless when a fellow comes +to shoot he shouldn't complain because a place isn't pretty. What you +want is a decent house as near as you can have it to your ground. If +there is anything in Scotland to beat Crummie-Toddie I don't know +where to find it. Shooting is shooting you know, and touring is +touring."</p> + +<p>Upon that he took very kindly to Lord Gerald, who, even after the +arrival of the other men, was second only in skill to Dobbes himself. +With Nidderdale, who was an old companion, he got on very well. +Nidderdale ate and drank too much, and refused to be driven beyond a +certain amount of labour, but was in other respects obedient and knew +what he was about. Popplecourt was disagreeable, but he was a fairly +good shot and understood what was expected of him. Silverbridge was +so good-humoured, that even his manifest faults,—shooting +carelessly, lying in bed and wanting his dinner,—were, if not +forgiven, at least endured. But Tregear was an abomination. He could +shoot well enough and was active, and when he was at the work seemed +to like it;—but he would stay away whole days by himself, and when +spoken to would answer in a manner which seemed to Dobbes to be flat +mutiny. "We are not doing it for our bread," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"There's no duty in killing a certain number of these animals." They +had been driving deer on the day before and were to continue the work +on the day in question. "I'm not paid fifteen shillings a week for +doing it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose if you undertake to do a thing you mean to do it. Of +course you're not wanted. We can make the double party without you."</p> + +<p>"Then why the mischief should you growl at me?"</p> + +<p>"Because I think a man should do what he undertakes to do. A man who +gets tired after three days' work of this kind would become tired if +he were earning his bread."</p> + +<p>"Who says I am tired? I came here to amuse myself."</p> + +<p>"Amuse yourself!"</p> + +<p>"And as long as it amuses me I shall shoot, and when it does not I +shall give it up."</p> + +<p>This vexed the governor of Crummie-Toddie much. He had learned to +regard himself as the arbiter of the fate of men while they were +sojourning under the same autumnal roof as himself. But a defalcation +which occurred immediately afterwards was worse. Silverbridge +declared his intention of going over one morning to Killancodlem. +Reginald Dobbes muttered a curse between his teeth, which was visible +by the anger on his brow to all the party. "I shall be back to-night, +you know," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"A lot of men and women who pretend to come there for shooting," said +Dobbes angrily, "but do all the mischief they can."</p> + +<p>"One must go and see one's friends, you know."</p> + +<p>"Some girl!" said Dobbes.</p> + +<p>But worse happened than the evil so lightly mentioned. Silverbridge +did go over to Killancodlem; and presently there came back a man with +a cart, who was to return with a certain not small proportion of his +luggage.</p> + +<p>"It's hardly honest, you know," said Reginald Dobbes.</p> + + +<p><a name="c39" id="c39"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX</h3> +<h3>Killancodlem<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr. Dobbes was probably right in his opinion that hotels, tourists, +and congregations of men are detrimental to shooting. Crummie-Toddie +was in all respects suited for sport. Killancodlem, though it had the +name of a shooting-place, certainly was not so. Men going there took +their guns. Gamekeepers were provided and gillies,—and, in a +moderate quantity, game. On certain grand days a deer or two might be +shot,—and would be very much talked about afterwards. But a glance +at the place would suffice to show that Killancodlem was not intended +for sport. It was a fine castellated mansion, with beautiful though +narrow grounds, standing in the valley of the Archay River, with a +mountain behind and the river in front. Between the gates and the +river there was a public road on which a stage-coach ran, with +loud-blown horns and the noise of many tourists. A mile beyond the +Castle was the famous Killancodlem hotel which made up a hundred and +twenty beds, and at which half as many more guests would sleep on +occasions under the tables. And there was the Killancodlem +post-office halfway between the two. At Crummie-Toddie they had to +send nine miles for their letters and newspapers. At Killancodlem +there was lawn-tennis and a billiard-room and dancing every night. +The costumes of the ladies were lovely, and those of the gentlemen, +who were wonderful in knickerbockers, picturesque hats and variegated +stockings, hardly less so. And then there were carriages and +saddle-horses, and paths had been made hither and thither through the +rocks and hills for the sake of the scenery. Scenery! To hear Mr. +Dobbes utter the single word was as good as a play. Was it for such +cockney purposes as those that Scotland had been created, fit mother +for grouse and deer?</p> + +<p>Silverbridge arrived just before lunch, and was soon made to +understand that it was impossible that he should go back that day. +Mrs. Jones was very great on that occasion. "You are afraid of +Reginald Dobbes," she said severely.</p> + +<p>"I think I am rather."</p> + +<p>"Of course you are. How came it to pass that you of all men should +submit yourself to such a tyrant?"</p> + +<p>"Good shooting, you know," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"But you dare not call an hour your own—or your soul. Mr. Dobbes and +I are sworn enemies. We both like Scotland, and unfortunately we have +fallen into the same neighbourhood. He looks upon me as the genius of +sloth. I regard him as the incarnation of tyranny. He once said there +should be no women in Scotland,—just an old one here and there, who +would know how to cook grouse. I offered to go and cook his grouse!</p> + +<p>"Any friend of mine," continued Mrs. Jones, "who comes down to +Crummie-Toddie without staying a day or two with me,—will never be +my friend any more. I do not hesitate to tell you, Lord Silverbridge, +that I call for your surrender, in order that I may show my power +over Reginald Dobbes. Are you a Dobbite?"</p> + +<p>"Not thorough-going," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Then be a Montacute Jones-ite; or a Boncassenite, if, as is +possible, you prefer a young woman to an old one." At this moment +Isabel Boncassen was standing close to them.</p> + +<p>"Killancodlem against Crummie-Toddie for ever!" said Miss Boncassen, +waving her handkerchief. As a matter of course a messenger was sent +back to Crummie-Toddie for the young lord's wearing apparel.</p> + +<p>The whole of that afternoon he spent playing lawn-tennis with Miss +Boncassen. Lady Mabel was asked to join the party, but she refused, +having promised to take a walk to a distant waterfall where the +Codlem falls into the Archay. A gentleman in knickerbockers was to +have gone with her, and two other young ladies; but when the time +came she was weary, she said,—and she sat almost the entire +afternoon looking at the game from a distance. Silverbridge played +well, but not so well as the pretty American. With them were joined +two others somewhat inferior, so that Silverbridge and Miss Boncassen +were on different sides. They played game after game, and Miss +Boncassen's side always won.</p> + +<p>Very little was said between Silverbridge and Miss Boncassen which +did not refer to the game. But Lady Mabel, looking on, told herself +that they were making love to each other before her eyes. And why +shouldn't they? She asked herself that question in perfect good +faith. Why should they not be lovers? Was ever anything prettier than +the girl in her country dress, active as a fawn and as graceful? Or +could anything be more handsome, more attractive to a girl, more +good-humoured, or better bred in his playful emulation than +Silverbridge?</p> + +<p>"When youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying +feet!" she said to herself over and over again.</p> + +<p>But why had he sent her the ring? She would certainly give him back +the ring and bid him bestow it at once upon Miss Boncassen. +Inconstant boy! Then she would get up and wander away for a time and +rebuke herself. What right had she even to think of inconstancy? +Could she be so irrational, so unjust, as to be sick for his love, as +to be angry with him because he seemed to prefer another? Was she not +well aware that she herself did not love him;—but that she did love +another man? She had made up her mind to marry him in order that she +might be a duchess, and because she could give herself to him without +any of that horror which would be her fate in submitting to matrimony +with one or another of the young men around her. There might be +disappointment. If he escaped her there would be bitter +disappointment. But seeing how it was, had she any further ground for +hope? She certainly had no ground for anger!</p> + +<p>It was thus, within her own bosom, she put questions to herself. And +yet all this before her was simply a game of play in which the girl +and the young man were as eager for victory as though they were +children. They were thinking neither of love nor love-making. That +the girl should be so lovely was no doubt a pleasure to him;—and +perhaps to her also that he should be joyous to look at and sweet of +voice. But he, could he have been made to tell all the truth within +him, would have still owned that it was his purpose to make Mabel his +wife.</p> + +<p>When the game was over and the propositions made for further matches +and the like,—Miss Boncassen said that she would betake herself to +her own room. "I never worked so hard in my life before," she said. +"And I feel like a navvie. I could drink beer out of a jug and eat +bread and cheese. I won't play with you any more, Lord Silverbridge, +because I am beginning to think it is unladylike to exert myself."</p> + +<p>"Are you not glad you came over?" said Lady Mabel to him as he was +going off the ground almost without seeing her.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well," he said.</p> + +<p>"Is not that better than stalking?"</p> + +<p>"Lawn-tennis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—lawn-tennis,—with Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"She plays uncommonly well."</p> + +<p>"And so do you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, she has such an eye for distances."</p> + +<p>"And you,—what have you an eye for? Will you answer me a question?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes; I think so."</p> + +<p>"Truly."</p> + +<p>"Certainly; if I do answer it."</p> + +<p>"Do you not think her the most beautiful creature you ever saw in +your life?" He pushed back his cap and looked at her without making +any immediate answer. "I do. Now tell me what you think."</p> + +<p>"I think that perhaps she is."</p> + +<p>"I knew you would say so. You are so honest that you could not bring +yourself to tell a fib,—even to me about that. Come here and sit +down for a moment." Of course he sat down by her. "You know that +Frank came to see me at Grex?"</p> + +<p>"He never mentioned it."</p> + +<p>"Dear me;—how odd!"</p> + +<p>"It was odd," said he in a voice which showed that he was angry. She +could hardly explain to herself why she told him this at the present +moment. It came partly from jealousy, as though she had said to +herself, "Though he may neglect me, he shall know that there is +someone who does not;"—and partly from an eager half-angry feeling +that she would have nothing concealed. There were moments with her in +which she thought that she could arrange her future life in +accordance with certain wise rules over which her heart should have +no influence. There were others, many others, in which her feelings +completely got the better of her. And now she told herself that she +would be afraid of nothing. There should be no deceit, no lies!</p> + +<p>"He went to see you at Grex!" said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Why should he not have come to me at Grex?"</p> + +<p>"Only it is so odd that he did not mention it. It seems to me that he +is always having secrets with you of some kind."</p> + +<p>"Poor Frank! There is no one else who would come to see me at that +tumbledown old place. But I have another thing to say to you. You +have behaved badly to me."</p> + +<p>"Have I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. After my folly about that ring you should have known +better than to send it to me. You must take it back again."</p> + +<p>"You shall do exactly what you said you would. You shall give it to +my wife,—when I have one."</p> + +<p>"That did very well for me to say in a note. I did not want to send +my anger to you over a distance of two or three hundred miles by the +postman. But now that we are together you must take it back."</p> + +<p>"I will do no such thing," said he sturdily.</p> + +<p>"You speak as though this were a matter in which you can have your +own way."</p> + +<p>"I mean to have mine about that."</p> + +<p>"Any lady then must be forced to take any present that a gentleman +may send her! Allow me to assure you that the usages of society do +not run in that direction. Here is the ring. I knew that you would +come over to see—well, to see someone here, and I have kept it ready +in my pocket."</p> + +<p>"I came over to see you."</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge! But we know that in certain employments all +things are fair." He looked at her not knowing what were the +employments to which she alluded. "At any rate you will oblige me +by—by—by not being troublesome, and putting this little trinket +into your pocket."</p> + +<p>"Never! Nothing on earth shall make me do it."</p> + +<p>At Killancodlem they did not dine till half-past eight. Twilight was +now stealing on these two, who were still out in the garden, all the +others having gone in to dress. She looked round to see that no other +eyes were watching them as she still held the ring. "It is there," +she said, putting it on the bench between them. Then she prepared to +rise from the seat so that she might leave it with him.</p> + +<p>But he was too quick for her, and was away at a distance before she +had collected her dress. And from a distance he spoke again, "If you +choose that it shall be lost, so be it."</p> + +<p>"You had better take it," said she, following him slowly. But he +would not turn back;—nor would she. They met again in the hall for a +moment. "I should be sorry it should be lost," said he, "because it +belonged to my great-uncle. And I had hoped that I might live to see +it very often."</p> + +<p>"You can fetch it," she said, as she went to her room. He however +would not fetch it. She had accepted it, and he would not take it +back again, let the fate of the gem be what it might.</p> + +<p>But to the feminine and more cautious mind the very value of the +trinket made its position out there on the bench, within the grasp of +any dishonest gardener, a burden to her. She could not reconcile it +to her conscience that it should be so left. The diamond was a large +one, and she had heard it spoken of as a stone of great value,—so +much so, that Silverbridge had been blamed for wearing it ordinarily. +She had asked for it in joke, regarding it as a thing which could not +be given away. She could not go down herself and take it up again; +but neither could she allow it to remain. As she went to her room she +met Mrs. Jones already coming from hers. "You will keep us all +waiting," said the hostess.</p> + +<p>"Oh no;—nobody ever dressed so quickly. But, Mrs. Jones, will you do +me a favour?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"And will you let me explain something?"</p> + +<p>"Anything you like,—from a hopeless engagement down to a broken +garter."</p> + +<p>"I am suffering neither from one or the other. But there is a most +valuable ring lying out in the garden. Will you send for it?" Then of +course the story had to be told. "You will, I hope, understand how I +came to ask for it foolishly. It was because it was the one thing +which I was sure he would not give away."</p> + +<p>"Why not take it?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you understand? I wouldn't for the world. But you will be good +enough,—won't you, to see that there is nothing else in it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of love?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in the least. He and I are excellent friends. We are +cousins, and intimate, and all that. I thought I might have had my +joke, and now I am punished for it. As for love, don't you see he is +over head and ears in love with Miss Boncassen?"</p> + +<p>This was very imprudent on the part of Lady Mabel, who, had she been +capable of clinging fast to her policy, would not now in a moment of +strong feeling have done so much to raise obstacles in her own way. +"But you will send for it, won't you, and have it put on his +dressing-table to-night?" When he went to bed Lord Silverbridge found +it on his table.</p> + +<p>But before that time came he had twice danced with Miss Boncassen, +Lady Mabel having refused to dance with him. "No," she said, "I am +angry with you. You ought to have felt that it did not become you as +a gentleman to subject me to inconvenience by throwing upon me the +charge of that diamond. You may be foolish enough to be indifferent +about its value, but as you have mixed me up with it I cannot afford +to have it lost."</p> + +<p>"It is yours."</p> + +<p>"No, sir; it is not mine, nor will it ever be mine. But I wish you to +understand that you have offended me."</p> + +<p>This made him so unhappy for the time that he almost told the story +to Miss Boncassen. "If I were to give you a ring," he said, "would +not you accept it?"</p> + +<p>"What a question!"</p> + +<p>"What I mean is, don't you think all those conventional rules about +men and women are absurd?"</p> + +<p>"As a progressive American, of course I am bound to think all +conventional rules are an abomination."</p> + +<p>"If you had a brother and I gave him a stick he'd take it."</p> + +<p>"Not across his back, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Or if I gave your father a book?"</p> + +<p>"He'd take books to any extent, I should say."</p> + +<p>"And why not you a ring?"</p> + +<p>"Who said I wouldn't? But after all this you mustn't try me."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of it."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad of that! Well;—if you'll promise that you'll never +offer me one, I'll promise that I'll take it when it comes. But what +does all this mean?"</p> + +<p>"It is not worth talking about."</p> + +<p>"You have offered somebody a ring, and somebody hasn't taken it. May +I guess?"</p> + +<p>"I had rather you did not."</p> + +<p>"I could, you know."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about that. Now come and have a turn. I am bound not to +give you a ring; but you are bound to accept anything else I may +offer."</p> + +<p>"No, Lord Silverbridge;—not at all. Nevertheless we'll have a turn."</p> + +<p>That night before he went up to his room he had told Isabel Boncassen +that he loved her. And when he spoke he was telling her the truth. It +had seemed to him that Mabel had become hard to him, and had over and +over again rejected the approaches to tenderness which he had +attempted to make in his intercourse with her. Even though she were +to accept him, what would that be worth to him if she did not love +him? So many things had been added together! Why had Tregear gone to +Grex, and having gone there why had he kept his journey a secret? +Tregear he knew was engaged to his sister;—but for all that, there +was a closer intimacy between Mabel and Tregear than between Mabel +and himself. And surely she might have taken his ring!</p> + +<p>And then Isabel Boncassen was so perfect! Since he had first met her +he had heard her loveliness talked of on all sides. It seemed to be +admitted everywhere that so beautiful a creature had never before +been seen in London. There is even a certain dignity attached to that +which is praised by all lips. Miss Boncassen as an American girl, had +she been judged to be beautiful only by his own eyes, might perhaps +have seemed to him to be beneath his serious notice. In such a case +he might have felt himself unable to justify so extraordinary a +choice. But there was an acclamation of assent as to this girl! Then +came the dancing,—the one dance after another; the pressure of the +hand, the entreaty that she would not, just on this occasion, dance +with any other man, the attendance on her when she took her glass of +wine, the whispered encouragement of Mrs. Montacute Jones, the +half-resisting and yet half-yielding conduct of the girl. "I shall +not dance at all again," she said when he asked her to stand up for +another. "Think of all that lawn-tennis this morning."</p> + +<p>"But you will play to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall stay now," he said, and as he said it he put his +hand on her hand, which was on his arm. She drew it away at once. "I +love you so dearly," he whispered to her; "so dearly."</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge!"</p> + +<p>"I do. I do. Can you say that you will love me in return?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she said slowly. "I have never dreamed of such a thing. I +hardly know now whether you are in earnest."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed I am."</p> + +<p>"Then I will say good-night, and think about it. Everybody is going. +We will have our game to-morrow at any rate."</p> + +<p>When he went to his room he found the ring on his dressing-table.</p> + + +<p><a name="c40" id="c40"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XL</h3> +<h3>"And Then!"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the next morning Miss Boncassen did not appear at breakfast. Word +came that she had been so fatigued by the lawn-tennis as not to be +able to leave her bed. "I have been to her," said Mrs. Montacute +Jones, whispering to Lord Silverbridge, as though he were +particularly interested. "There's nothing really the matter. She will +be down to lunch."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid she might be ill," said Silverbridge, who was now +hardly anxious to hide his admiration.</p> + +<p>"Oh no;—nothing of that sort; but she will not be able to play again +to-day. It was your fault. You should not have made her dance last +night." After that Mrs. Jones said a word about it all to Lady Mabel. +"I hope the Duke will not be angry with me."</p> + +<p>"Why should he be angry with you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose he will approve of it, and perhaps he'll say I +brought them together on purpose."</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards Mabel asked Silverbridge to walk with her to the +waterfall. She had worked herself into such a state of mind that she +hardly knew what to do, what to wish, or how to act. At one moment +she would tell herself that it was better in every respect that she +should cease to think of being Duchess of Omnium. It was not fit that +she should think of it. She herself cared but little for the young +man, and he—she would tell herself—now appeared to care as little +for her. And yet to be Duchess of Omnium! But was it not clear that +he was absolutely in love with this other girl? She had played her +cards so badly that the game was now beyond her powers. Then other +thoughts would come. Was it beyond her powers? Had he not told her in +London that he loved her? Had he not given her the ring which she +well knew he valued? Ah;—if she could but have been aware of all +that had passed between Silverbridge and the Duke, how different +would have been her feelings! And then would it not be so much better +for him that he should marry her, one of his own class, than this +American girl, of whom nobody knew anything? And then,—to be the +daughter of the Duke of Omnium, to be the future Duchess, to escape +from all the cares which her father's vices and follies had brought +upon her, to have come to an end of all her troubles! Would it not be +sweet?</p> + +<p>She had made her mind up to nothing when she asked him to walk up to +the waterfall. There was present to her only the glimmer of an idea +that she ought to caution him not to play with the American girl's +feelings. She knew herself to be aware that, when the time for her +own action came, her feminine feelings would get the better of her +purpose. She could not craftily bring him to the necessity of +bestowing himself upon her. Had that been within the compass of her +powers, opportunities had not been lacking to her. On such occasions +she had always "spared him." And should the opportunity come again, +again she would spare him. But she might perhaps do some good,—not +to herself, that was now out of the question,—but to him, by showing +him how wrong he was in trifling with this girl's feelings.</p> + +<p>And so they started for their walk. He of course would have avoided +it had it been possible. When men in such matters have two strings to +their bow, much inconvenience is felt when the two become entangled. +Silverbridge no doubt had come over to Killancodlem for the sake of +making love to Mabel Grex, and instead of doing so he had made love +to Isabel Boncassen. And during the watches of the night, and as he +had dressed himself in the morning, and while Mrs. Jones had been +whispering to him her little bulletin as to the state of the young +lady's health, he had not repented himself of the change. Mabel had +been, he thought, so little gracious to him that he would have given +up that notion earlier, but for his indiscreet declaration to his +father. On the other hand, making love to Isabel Boncassen seemed to +him to possess some divine afflatus of joy which made it of all +imaginable occupations the sweetest and most charming. She had +admitted of no embrace. Indeed he had attempted none, unless that +touch of the hand might be so called, from which she had immediately +withdrawn. Her conduct had been such that he had felt it to be +incumbent on him, at the very moment, to justify the touch by a +declaration of love. Then she had told him that she would not promise +to love him in return. And yet it had been so sweet, so heavenly +sweet!</p> + +<p>During the morning he had almost forgotten Mabel. When Mrs. Jones +told him that Isabel would keep her room, he longed to ask for leave +to go and make some inquiry at the door. She would not play +lawn-tennis with him. Well;—he did not now care much for that. After +what he had said to her she must at any rate give him some answer. +She had been so gracious to him that his hopes ran very high. It +never occurred to him to fancy that she might be gracious to him +because he was heir to the Dukedom of Omnium. She herself was so +infinitely superior to all wealth, to all rank, to all sublunary +arrangements, conventions, and considerations, that there was no room +for confidence of that nature. But he was confident because her smile +had been sweet, and her eyes bright,—and because he was conscious, +though unconsciously conscious, of something of the sympathy of love.</p> + +<p>But he had to go to the waterfall with Mabel. Lady Mabel was always +dressed perfectly,—having great gifts of her own in that direction. +There was a freshness about her which made her morning costume more +charming than that of the evening, and never did she look so well as +when arrayed for a walk. On this occasion she had certainly done her +best. But he, poor blind idiot, saw nothing of this. The white gauzy +fabric which had covered Isabel's satin petticoat on the previous +evening still filled his eyes. Those perfect boots, the little +glimpses of party-coloured stockings above them, the looped-up skirt, +the jacket fitting but never binding that lovely body and waist, the +jaunty hat with its small fresh feathers, all were nothing to him. +Nor was the bright honest face beneath the hat anything to him +now;—for it was an honest face, though misfortunes which had come +had somewhat marred the honesty of the heart.</p> + +<p>At first the conversation was about indifferent things,—Killancodlem +and Mrs. Jones, Crummie-Toddie and Reginald Dobbes. They had gone +along the high-road as far as the post-office, and had turned up +through the wood and reached a seat whence there was a beautiful view +down upon the Archay, before a word was said affecting either Miss +Boncassen or the ring. "You got the ring safe?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes."</p> + +<p>"How could you be so foolish as to risk it?"</p> + +<p>"I did not regard it as mine. You had accepted it,—I thought."</p> + +<p>"But if I had, and then repented of my fault in doing so, should you +not have been willing to help me in setting myself right with myself? +Of course, after what had passed, it was a trouble to me when it +came. What was I to do? For a day or two I thought I would take it, +not as liking to take it, but as getting rid of the trouble in that +way. Then I remembered its value, its history, the fact that all who +knew you would want to know what had become of it,—and I felt that +it should be given back. There is only one person to whom you must +give it."</p> + +<p>"Who is that?" he said quickly.</p> + +<p>"Your wife;—or to her who is to become your wife. No other woman can +be justified in accepting such a present."</p> + +<p>"There has been a great deal more said about it than it's worth," +said he, not anxious at the present moment to discuss any matrimonial +projects with her. "Shall we go on to the Fall?" Then she got up and +led the way till they came to the little bridge from which they could +see the Falls of the Codlem below them. "I call that very pretty," he +said.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would like it."</p> + +<p>"I never saw anything of that kind more jolly. Do you care for +scenery, Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"Very much. I know no pleasure equal to it. You have never seen +Grex?"</p> + +<p>"Is it like this?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. It is wilder than this, and there are not so many +trees; but to my eyes it is very beautiful. I wish you had seen it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I may some day."</p> + +<p>"That is not likely now," she said. "The house is in ruins. If I had +just money enough to keep it for myself, I think I could live alone +there and be happy."</p> + +<p>"You;—alone! Of course you mean to marry?"</p> + +<p>"Mean to marry! Do persons marry because they mean it? With nineteen +men out of twenty the idea of marrying them would convey the idea of +hating them. You can mean to marry. No doubt you do mean it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall,—some day. How very well the house looks from +here." It was incumbent upon him at the present moment to turn the +conversation.</p> + +<p>But when she had a project in her head it was not so easy to turn her +away. "Yes, indeed," she said, "very well. But as I was saying,—you +can mean to marry."</p> + +<p>"Anybody can mean it."</p> + +<p>"But you can carry out a purpose. What are you thinking of doing +now?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my honour, Mabel, that is unfair."</p> + +<p>"Are we not friends?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Dear friends?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Then may I not tell you what I think? If you do not mean to marry +that American young lady you should not raise false hopes."</p> + +<p>"False—hopes!" He had hopes, but he had never thought that Isabel +could have any.</p> + +<p>"False hopes;—certainly. Do you not know that everyone was looking +at you last night?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"And that that old woman is going about talking of it as her doing, +pretending to be afraid of your father, whereas nothing would please +her better than to humble a family so high as yours."</p> + +<p>"Humble!" exclaimed Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Do you think your father would like it? Would you think that another +man would be doing well for himself by marrying Miss Boncassen?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said he energetically.</p> + +<p>"Then you must be very much in love with her."</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about that."</p> + +<p>"If you are so much in love with her that you mean to face the +displeasure of all your <span class="nowrap">friends—"</span></p> + +<p>"I do not say what I mean. I could talk more freely to you than to +any one else, but I won't talk about that even to you. As regards +Miss Boncassen, I think that any man might marry her, without +discredit. I won't have it said that she can be inferior to me,—or +to anybody."</p> + +<p>There was a steady manliness in this which took Lady Mabel by +surprise. She was convinced that he intended to offer his hand to the +girl, and now was actuated chiefly by a feeling that his doing so +would be an outrage to all English propriety. If a word might have an +effect it would be her duty to speak that word. "I think you are +wrong there, Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I am right."</p> + +<p>"What have you yourself felt about your sister and Mr. Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"It is altogether different;—altogether. Frank's wife will be simply +his wife. Mine, should I outlive my father, will be Duchess of +Omnium."</p> + +<p>"But your father? I have heard you speak with bitter regret of this +affair of Lady Mary's, because it vexes him. Would your marriage with +an American lady vex him less?"</p> + +<p>"Why should it vex him at all? Is she vulgar, or ill to look at, or +stupid?"</p> + +<p>"Think of her mother."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to marry her mother. Nor for the matter of that am I +going to marry her. You are taking all that for granted in a most +unfair way."</p> + +<p>"How can I help it after what I saw yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"I will not talk any more about it. We had better go down or we shall +get no lunch." Lady Mabel, as she followed him, tried to make herself +believe that all her sorrow came from regret that so fine a scion of +the British nobility should throw himself away upon an American +adventuress.</p> + +<p>The guests were still at lunch when they entered the dining-room, and +Isabel was seated close to Mrs. Jones. Silverbridge at once went up +to her,—and place was made for him as though he had almost a right +to be next to her. Miss Boncassen herself bore her honours well, +seeming to regard the little change at table as though it was of no +moment. "I became so eager about that game," she said, "that I went +on too long."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are now none the worse."</p> + +<p>"At six o'clock this morning I thought I should never use my legs +again."</p> + +<p>"Were you awake at six?" said Silverbridge, with pitying voice.</p> + +<p>"That was it. I could not sleep. Now I begin to hope that sooner or +later I shall unstiffen."</p> + +<p>During every moment, at every word that he uttered, he was thinking +of the declaration of love which he had made to her. But it seemed to +him as though the matter had not dwelt on her mind. When they drew +their chairs away from the table he thought that not a moment was to +be lost before some further explanation of their feelings for each +other should be made. Was not the matter which had been so far +discussed of vital importance for both of them? And, glorious as she +was above all other women, the offer which he had made must have some +weight with her. He did not think that he proposed to give more than +she deserved, but still, that which he was so willing to give was not +a little. Or was it possible that she had not understood his meaning? +If so, he would not willingly lose a moment before he made it plain +to her. But she seemed content to hang about with the other women, +and when she sauntered about the grounds seated herself on a +garden-chair with Lady Mabel, and discussed with great eloquence the +general beauty of Scottish scenery. An hour went on in this way. +Could it be that she knew that he had offered to make her his wife? +During this time he went and returned more than once, but still she +was there, on the same garden-seat, talking to those who came in her +way.</p> + +<p>Then on a sudden she got up and put her hand on his arm. "Come and +take a turn with me," she said. "Lord Silverbridge, do you remember +anything of last night?"</p> + +<p>"Remember!"</p> + +<p>"I thought for a while this morning that I would let it pass as +though it had been mere trifling."</p> + +<p>"It would have wanted two to let it pass in that way," he said, +almost indignantly.</p> + +<p>On hearing this she looked up at him, and there came over her face +that brilliant smile, which to him was perhaps the most potent of her +spells. "What do you mean by—wanting two?"</p> + +<p>"I must have a voice in that as well as you."</p> + +<p>"And what is your voice?"</p> + +<p>"My voice is this. I told you last night that I loved you. This +morning I ask you to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"It is a very clear voice," she said,—almost in a whisper; but in a +tone so serious that it startled him.</p> + +<p>"It ought to be clear," he said doggedly.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that if I liked you +well last night I don't like you better now?"</p> + +<p>"But do you—like me?"</p> + +<p>"That is just the thing I am going to say nothing about."</p> + +<p>"Isabel!"</p> + +<p>"Just the one thing I will not allude to. Now you must listen to me."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"I know a great deal about you. We Americans are an inquiring people, +and I have found out pretty much everything." His mind misgave him as +he felt she had ascertained his former purpose respecting Mabel. +"You," she said, "among young men in England are about the foremost, +and therefore,—as I think,—about the foremost in the world. And you +have all personal gifts;—youth and spirits— Well, I will not go on +and name the others. You are, no doubt, supposed to be entitled to +the best and sweetest of God's feminine creatures."</p> + +<p>"You are she."</p> + +<p>"Whether you be entitled to me or not I cannot yet say. Now I will +tell you something of myself. My father's father came to New York as +a labourer from Holland, and worked upon the quays in that city. Then +he built houses, and became rich, and was almost a miser;—with the +good sense, however, to educate his only son. What my father is you +see. To me he is sterling gold, but he is not like your people. My +dear mother is not at all like your ladies. She is not a lady in your +sense,—though with her unselfish devotion to others she is something +infinitely better. For myself I am,—well, meaning to speak honestly, +I will call myself pretty and smart. I think I know how to be true."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you do."</p> + +<p>"But what right have you to suppose I shall know how to be a +Duchess?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will."</p> + +<p>"Now listen to me. Go to your friends and ask them. Ask that Lady +Mabel;—ask your father;—ask that Lady Cantrip. And above all, ask +yourself. And allow me to require you to take three months to do +this. Do not come to see me for three months."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"What may happen then I cannot tell, for I want three months also to +think of it myself. Till then, good-bye." She gave him her hand and +left it in his for a few seconds. He tried to draw her to him; but +she resisted him, still smiling. Then she left him.</p> + + +<p><a name="c41" id="c41"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI</h3> +<h3>Ischl<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was a custom with Mrs. Finn almost every autumn to go off to +Vienna, where she possessed considerable property, and there to +inspect the circumstances of her estate. Sometimes her husband would +accompany her, and he did so in this year of which we are now +speaking. One morning in September they were together at an hotel at +Ischl, whither they had come from Vienna, when as they went through +the hall into the courtyard, they came, in the very doorway, upon the +Duke of Omnium and his daughter. The Duke and Lady Mary had just +arrived, having passed through the mountains from the salt-mine +district, and were about to take up their residence in the hotel for +a few days. They had travelled very slowly, for Lady Mary had been +ill, and the Duke had expressed his determination to see a doctor at +Ischl.</p> + +<p>There is no greater mistake than in supposing that only the young +blush. But the blushes of middle life are luckily not seen through +the tan which has come from the sun and the gas and the work and the +wiles of the world. Both the Duke and Phineas blushed; and though +their blushes were hidden, that peculiar glance of the eye which +always accompanies a blush was visible enough from one to the other. +The elder lady kept her countenance admirably, and the younger one +had no occasion for blushing. She at once ran forward and kissed her +friend. The Duke stood with his hat off waiting to give his hand to +the lady, and then took that of his late colleague. "How odd that we +should meet here," he said, turning to Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"Odd enough to us that your Grace should be here," she said, "because +we had heard nothing of your intended coming."</p> + +<p>"It is so nice to find you," said Lady Mary. "We are this moment +come. Don't say that you are this moment going."</p> + +<p>"At this moment we are only going as far as Halstadt."</p> + +<p>"And are coming back to dinner? Of course they will dine with us. +Will they not, papa?" The Duke said that he hoped they would. To +declare that you are engaged at an hotel, unless there be some real +engagement, is almost an impossibility. There was no escape, and +before they were allowed to get into their carriage they had promised +they would dine with the Duke and his daughter.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it is especially a bore," Mrs. Finn said to her +husband in the carriage. "You may be quite sure that of whatever +trouble there may be in it, he has much more than his share."</p> + +<p>"His share should be the whole," said her husband. "No one else has +done anything wrong."</p> + +<p>When the Duke's apology had reached her, so that there was no longer +any ground for absolute hostility, then she had told the whole story +to her husband. He at first was very indignant. What right had the +Duke to expect that any ordinary friend should act duenna over his +daughter in accordance with his caprices? This was said and much more +of the kind. But any humour towards quarrelling which Phineas Finn +might have felt for a day or two was quieted by his wife's prudence. +"A man," she said, "can do no more than apologise. After that there +is no room for reproach."</p> + +<p>At dinner the conversation turned at first on British politics, in +which Mrs. Finn was quite able to take her part. Phineas was +decidedly of opinion that Sir Timothy Beeswax and Lord Drummond could +not live another Session. And on this subject a good deal was said. +Later in the evening the Duke found himself sitting with Mrs. Finn in +the broad verandah over the hotel garden, while Lady Mary was playing +to Phineas within. "How do you think she is looking?" asked the +father.</p> + +<p>"Of course I see that she has been ill. She tells me that she was far +from well at Salzburg."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—indeed for three or four days she frightened me much. She +suffered terribly from headaches."</p> + +<p>"Nervous headaches?"</p> + +<p>"So they said there. I feel quite angry with myself because I did not +bring a doctor with us. The trouble and ceremony of such an +accompaniment is no doubt disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose seemed when you started to be unnecessary?"</p> + +<p>"Quite unnecessary."</p> + +<p>"Does she complain again now?"</p> + +<p>"She did to-day—a little."</p> + +<p>The next day Lady Mary could not leave her bed; and the Duke in his +sorrow was obliged to apply to Mrs. Finn. After what had passed on +the previous day Mrs. Finn of course called, and was shown at once up +to her young friend's room. There she found the girl in great pain, +lying with her two thin hands up to her head, and hardly able to +utter more than a word. Shortly after that Mrs. Finn was alone with +the Duke, and then there took place a conversation between them which +the lady thought to be very remarkable.</p> + +<p>"Had I better send for a doctor from England?" he asked. In answer to +this Mrs. Finn expressed her opinion that such a measure was hardly +necessary, that the gentleman from the town who had been called in +seemed to know what he was about, and that the illness, lamentable as +it was, did not seem to be in any way dangerous. "One cannot tell +what it comes from," said the Duke dubiously.</p> + +<p>"Young people, I fancy, are often subject to such maladies."</p> + +<p>"It must come from something wrong."</p> + +<p>"That may be said of all sickness."</p> + +<p>"And therefore one tries to find out the cause. She says that she is +unhappy." These last words he spoke slowly and in a low voice. To +this Mrs. Finn could make no reply. She did not doubt but that the +girl was unhappy, and she knew well why; but the source of Lady +Mary's misery was one to which she could not very well allude. "You +know all the misery about that young man."</p> + +<p>"That is a trouble that requires time to cure it," she said,—not +meaning to imply that time would cure it by enabling the girl to +forget her lover; but because in truth she had not known what else to +say.</p> + +<p>"If time will cure it."</p> + +<p>"Time, they say, cures all sorrows."</p> + +<p>"But what should I do to help time? There is no sacrifice I would not +make,—no sacrifice! Of myself I mean. I would devote myself to +her,—leave everything else on one side. We purpose being back in +England in October; but I would remain here if I thought it better +for her comfort."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell, Duke."</p> + +<p>"Neither can I. But you are a woman and might know better than I do. +It is so hard that a man should be left with a charge of which from +its very nature he cannot understand the duties." Then he paused, but +she could find no words which would suit at the moment. It was almost +incredible to her that after what had passed he should speak to her +at all as to the condition of his daughter. "I cannot, you know," he +said very seriously, "encourage a hope that she should be allowed to +marry that man."</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<p>"You yourself, Mrs. Finn, felt that when she told you about it at +Matching."</p> + +<p>"I felt that you would disapprove of it."</p> + +<p>"Disapprove of it! How could it be otherwise? Of course you felt +that. There are ranks in life in which the first comer that suits a +maiden's eye may be accepted as a fitting lover. I will not say but +that they who are born to such a life may be the happier. They are, I +am sure, free from troubles to which they are incident whom fate has +called to a different sphere. But duty is—duty;—and whatever pang +it may cost, duty should be performed."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Certainly;—certainly; certainly," he said, re-echoing her word.</p> + +<p>"But then, Duke, one has to be so sure what duty requires. In many +matters this is easy enough, and the only difficulty comes from +temptation. There are cases in which it is so hard to know."</p> + +<p>"Is this one of them?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Then the maiden should—in any class of life—be allowed to take the +man—that just suits her eye?" As he said this his mind was intent on +his Glencora and on Burgo Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"I have not said so. A man may be bad, vicious, a spendthrift,—eaten +up by bad habits." Then he frowned, thinking that she also had her +mind intent on his Glencora and on that Burgo Fitzgerald, and being +most unwilling to have the difference between Burgo and Frank Tregear +pointed out to him. "Nor have I said," she continued, "that even were +none of these faults apparent in the character of a suitor, the lady +should in all cases be advised to accept a young man because he has +made himself agreeable to her. There may be discrepancies."</p> + +<p>"There are," said he, still with a low voice, but with infinite +energy,—"insurmountable discrepancies."</p> + +<p>"I only said that this was a case in which it might be difficult for +you to see your duty plainly."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be?"</p> + +<p>"You would not have her—break her heart?" Then he was silent for +awhile, turning over in his mind the proposition which now seemed to +have been made to him. If the question came to that,—should she be +allowed to break her heart and die, or should he save her from that +fate by sanctioning her marriage with Tregear? If the choice could be +put to him plainly by some supernal power, what then would he choose? +If duty required him to prevent this marriage, his duty could not be +altered by the fact that his girl would avenge herself upon him by +dying! If such a marriage were in itself wrong, that wrong could not +be made right by the fear of such a catastrophe. Was it not often the +case that duty required that someone should die? And yet as he +thought of it,—thought that the someone whom his mind had suggested +was the one female creature now left belonging to him,—he put his +hand up to his brow and trembled with agony. If he knew, if in truth +he believed that such would be the result of firmness on his +part,—then he would be infirm, then he must yield. Sooner than that, +he must welcome this Tregear to his house. But why should he think +that she would die? This woman had now asked him whether he would be +willing to break his girl's heart. It was a frightful question; but +he could see that it had come naturally in the sequence of the +conversation which he had forced upon her. Did girls break their +hearts in such emergencies? Was it not all romance? "Men have died +and worms have eaten them,—but not for love." He remembered it all +and carried on the argument in his mind, though the pause was but for +a minute. There might be suffering, no doubt. The higher the duties +the keener the pangs! But would it become him to be deterred from +doing right because she for a time might find that she had made the +world bitter to herself? And were there not feminine wiles,—tricks +by which women learn to have their way in opposition to the judgment +of their lords and masters? He did not think that his Mary was +wilfully guilty of any scheme. The suffering he knew was true +suffering. But not the less did it become him to be on his guard +against attacks of this nature.</p> + +<p>"No," he said at last; "I would not have her break her heart,—if I +understand what such words mean. They are generally, I think, used +fantastically."</p> + +<p>"You would not wish to see her overwhelmed by sorrow?"</p> + +<p>"Wish it! What a question to ask a father!"</p> + +<p>"I must be more plain in my language, Duke. Though such a marriage be +distasteful to you, it might perhaps be preferable to seeing her +sorrowing always."</p> + +<p>"Why should it? I have to sorrow always. We are told that man is born +to sorrow as surely as the sparks fly upwards."</p> + +<p>"Then I can say nothing further."</p> + +<p>"You think I am cruel."</p> + +<p>"If I am to say what I really think I shall offend you."</p> + +<p>"No;—not unless you mean offence."</p> + +<p>"I shall never do that to you, Duke. When you talk as you do now you +hardly know yourself. You think you could see her suffering, and not +be moved by it. But were it to be continued long you would give way. +Though we know that there is an infinity of grief in this life, still +we struggle to save those we love from grieving. If she be steadfast +enough to cling to her affection for this man, then at last you will +have to yield." He looked at her frowning, but did not say a word. +"Then it will perhaps be a comfort for you to know that the man +himself is trustworthy and honest."</p> + +<p>There was a terrible rebuke in this; but still, as he had called it +down upon himself, he would not resent it, even in his heart. "Thank +you," he said, rising from his chair. "Perhaps you will see her again +this afternoon." Of course she assented, and, as the interview had +taken place in his rooms, she took her leave.</p> + +<p>This which Mrs. Finn had said to him was all to the same effect as +that which had come from Lady Cantrip; only it was said with a higher +spirit. Both the women saw the matter in the same light. There must +be a fight between him and his girl; but she, if she could hold out +for a certain time, would be the conqueror. He might take her away +and try what absence would do, or he might have recourse to that +specific which had answered so well in reference to his own wife; but +if she continued to sorrow during absence, and if she would have +nothing to do with the other lover,—then he must at last give way! +He had declared that he was willing to sacrifice himself,—meaning +thereby that if a lengthened visit to the cities of China, or a +prolonged sojourn in the Western States of America would wean her +from her love, he would go to China or to the Western States. At +present his self-banishment had been carried no farther than Vienna. +During their travels hitherto Tregear's name had not once been +mentioned. The Duke had come away from home resolved not to mention +it,—and she was minded to keep it in reserve till some seeming +catastrophe should justify a declaration of her purpose. But from +first to last she had been sad, and latterly she had been ill. When +asked as to her complaint she would simply say that she was not +happy. To go on with this through the Chinese cities could hardly be +good for either of them. She would not wake herself to any enthusiasm +in regard to scenery, costume, pictures, or even discomforts. +Wherever she was taken it was all barren to her.</p> + +<p>As their plans stood at present, they were to return to England so as +to enable her to be at Custins by the middle of October. Had he +taught himself to hope that any good could be done by prolonged +travelling he would readily have thrown over Custins and Lord +Popplecourt. He could not bring himself to trust much to the +Popplecourt scheme. But the same contrivance had answered on that +former occasion. When he spoke to her about their plans, she +expressed herself quite ready to go back to England. When he +suggested those Chinese cities, her face became very long and she was +immediately attacked by paroxysms of headaches.</p> + +<p>"I think I should take her to some place on the seashore in England," +said Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"Custins is close to the sea," he replied. "It is Lord Cantrip's +place in Dorsetshire. It was partly settled that she was to go +there."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she likes Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"Why should she not?"</p> + +<p>"She has not said a word to me to the contrary. I only fear she would +feel that she was being sent there,—as to a convent."</p> + +<p>"What ought I to do then?"</p> + +<p>"How can I venture to answer that? What she would like best, I think, +would be to return to Matching with you, and to settle down in a +quiet way for the winter." The Duke shook his head. That would be +worse than travelling. She would still have headaches and still tell +him that she was unhappy. "Of course I do not know what your plans +are, and pray believe me that I should not obtrude my advice if you +did not ask me."</p> + +<p>"I know it," he said. "I know how good you are and how reasonable. I +know how much you have to forgive."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no."</p> + +<p>"And, if I have not said so as I should have done, it has not been +from want of feeling. I do believe you did what you thought best when +Mary told you that story at Matching."</p> + +<p>"Why should your Grace go back to that?"</p> + +<p>"Only that I may acknowledge my indebtedness to you, and say to you +somewhat fuller than I could do in my letter that I am sorry for the +pain which I gave you."</p> + +<p>"All that is over now,—and shall be forgotten."</p> + +<p>Then he spoke of his immediate plans. He would at once go back to +England by slow stages,—by very slow stages,—staying a day or two +at Salzburg, at Ratisbon, at Nuremberg, at Frankfort, and so on. In +this way he would reach England about the 10th of October, and Mary +would then be ready to go to Custins by the time appointed.</p> + +<p>In a day or two Lady Mary was better. "It is terrible while it +lasts," she said, speaking to Mrs. Finn of her headache, "but when it +has gone then I am quite well. Only"—she added after a pause—"only +I can never be happy again while papa thinks as he does now." Then +there was a party made up before they separated for an excursion to +the Hintersee and the Obersee. On this occasion Lady Mary seemed to +enjoy herself, as she liked the companionship of Mrs. Finn. Against +Lady Cantrip she never said a word. But Lady Cantrip was always a +duenna to her, whereas Mrs. Finn was a friend. While the Duke and +Phineas were discussing politics together—thoroughly enjoying the +weakness of Lord Drummond and the iniquity of Sir Timothy—which they +did with augmented vehemence from their ponies' backs, the two women +in lower voices talked over their own affairs. "I dare say you will +be happy at Custins," said Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"No; I shall not. There will be people there whom I don't know, and I +don't want to know. Have you heard anything about him, Mrs. Finn?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Finn turned round and looked at her,—for a moment almost +angrily. Then her heart relented. "Do you mean—Mr. Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>"I think I heard that he was shooting with Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"It will be pleasant for both of them."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad they should be together. While I know that, I feel +that we are not altogether separated. I will never give it up, Mrs. +Finn,—never; never. It is no use taking me to China." In that Mrs. +Finn quite agreed with her.</p> + + +<p><a name="c42" id="c42"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII</h3> +<h3>Again at Killancodlem<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Silverbridge remained at Crummie-Toddie under the dominion of +Reginald Dobbes till the second week in September. Popplecourt, +Nidderdale, and Gerald Palliser were there also, very obedient, and +upon the whole efficient. Tregear was intractable, occasional, and +untrustworthy. He was the cause of much trouble to Mr. Dobbes. He +would entertain a most heterodox and injurious idea that, as he had +come to Crummie-Toddie for amusement, he was not bound to do anything +that did not amuse him. He would not understand that in sport as in +other matters there was an ambition, driving a man on to excel always +and be ahead of others. In spite of this Mr. Dobbes had cause for +much triumph. It was going to be the greatest thing ever done by six +guns in Scotland. As for Gerald, whom he had regarded as a boy, and +who had offended him by saying that Crummie-Toddie was ugly,—he was +ready to go round the world for him. He had indoctrinated Gerald with +all his ideas of a sportsman,—even to a contempt for champagne and a +conviction that tobacco should be moderated. The three lords too had +proved themselves efficient, and the thing was going to be a success. +But just when a day was of vital importance, when it was essential +that there should be a strong party for a drive, Silverbridge found +it absolutely necessary that he should go over to Killancodlem.</p> + +<p>"She has gone," said Nidderdale.</p> + +<p>"Who the –––– is she?" asked Silverbridge, +almost angrily.</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows who she is," said Popplecourt.</p> + +<p>"It will be a good thing when some She has got hold of you, my boy, +so as to keep you in your proper place."</p> + +<p>"If you cannot withstand that sort of attraction you ought not to go +in for shooting at all," said Dobbes.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder at his going," continued Nidderdale, "if we +didn't all know that the American is no longer there. She has gone +to—Bath I think they say."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's Mrs. Jones herself," said Popplecourt.</p> + +<p>"My dear boys," said Silverbridge, "you may be quite sure that when I +say that I am going to Killancodlem I mean to go to Killancodlem, and +that no chaff about young ladies,—which I think very +disgusting,—will stop me. I shall be sorry if Dobbes's roll of the +killed should be lessened by a single hand, seeing that his ambition +sets that way. Considering the amount of slaughter we have +perpetrated, I really think that we need not be over anxious." After +this nothing further was said. Tregear, who knew that Mabel Grex was +still at Killancodlem, had not spoken.</p> + +<p>In truth Mabel had sent for Lord Silverbridge, and this had been her +letter:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear lord +Silverbridge</span>,</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montacute Jones is cut to the heart because you have +not been over to see her again, and she says that it is +lamentable to think that such a man as Reginald Dobbes +should have so much power over you. "Only twelve miles," +she says, "and he knows that we are here!" I told her that +you knew Miss Boncassen was gone.</p> + +<p>But though Miss Boncassen has left us we are a very +pleasant party, and surely you must be tired of such a +place as Crummie-Toddie. If only for the sake of getting a +good dinner once in a way do come over again. I shall be +here yet for ten days. As they will not let me go back to +Grex I don't know where I could be more happy. I have been +asked to go to Custins, and suppose I shall turn up there +some time in the autumn.</p> + +<p>And now shall I tell you what I expect? I do expect that +you will come over to—see me. "I did see her the other +day," you will say, "and she did not make herself +pleasant." I know that. How was I to make myself pleasant +when I found myself so completely snuffed out by your +American beauty? Now she is away, and Richard will be +himself. Do come, because in truth I want to see you.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours always sincerely,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Mabel +Grex</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>On receiving this he at once made up his mind to go to Killancodlem, +but he could not make up his mind why it was that she had asked him. +He was sure of two things; sure in the first place that she had +intended to let him know that she did not care about him; and then +sure that she was aware of his intention in regard to Miss Boncassen. +Everybody at Killancodlem had seen it,—to his disgust; but still +that it was so had been manifest. And he had consoled himself, +feeling that it would matter nothing should he be accepted. She had +made an attempt to talk him out of his purpose. Could it be that she +thought it possible a second attempt might be successful? If so, she +did not know him.</p> + +<p>She had in truth thought not only that this, but that something +further than this, might be possible. Of course the prize loomed +larger before her eyes as the prospects of obtaining it became less. +She could not doubt that he had intended to offer her his hand when +he had spoken to her of his love in London. Then she had stopped +him;—had "spared him," as she had told her friend. Certainly she had +then been swayed by some feeling that it would be ungenerous in her +to seize greedily the first opportunity he had given her. But he had +again made an effort. He surely would not have sent her the ring had +he not intended her to regard him as her lover. When she received the +ring her heart had beat very high. Then she had sent that little +note, saying that she would keep it till she could give it to his +wife. When she wrote that she had intended the ring should be her +own. And other things pressed upon her mind. Why had she been asked +to the dinner at Richmond? Why was she invited to Custins? Little +hints had reached her of the Duke's goodwill towards her. If on that +side the marriage were approved, why should she destroy her own +hopes?</p> + +<p>Then she had seen him with Miss Boncassen, and in her pique had +forced the ring back upon him. During that long game on the lawn her +feelings had been very bitter. Of course the girl was the lovelier of +the two. All the world was raving of her beauty. And there was no +doubt as to the charm of her wit and manner. And then she had no +touch of that blasé used-up way of life of which Lady Mabel was +conscious herself. It was natural that it should be so. And was she, +Mabel Grex, the girl to stand in his way and to force herself upon +him, if he loved another? Certainly not,—though there might be a +triple ducal coronet to be had.</p> + +<p>But were there not other considerations? Could it be well that the +heir of the house of Omnium should marry an American girl, as to +whose humble birth whispers were already afloat? As his friend, would +it not be right that she should tell him what the world would say? As +his friend, therefore, she had given him her counsel.</p> + +<p>When he was gone the whole thing weighed heavily upon her mind. Why +should she lose the prize if it might still be her own? To be Duchess +of Omnium! She had read of many of the other sex, and of one or two +of her own, who by settled resolution had achieved greatness in +opposition to all obstacles. Was this thing beyond her reach? To hunt +him, and catch him, and marry him to his own injury,—that would be +impossible to her. She was sure of herself there. But how infinitely +better would this be for him! Would she not have all his family with +her,—and all the world of England? In how short a time would he not +repent his marriage with Miss Boncassen! Whereas, were she his wife, +she would so stir herself for his joys, for his good, for his honour, +that there should be no possibility of repentance. And he certainly +had loved her. Why else had he followed her, and spoken such words to +her? Of course he had loved her! But then there had come this blaze +of beauty and had carried off,—not his heart but his imagination. +Because he had yielded to such fascination, was she to desert him, +and also to desert herself? From day to day she thought of it, and +then she wrote that letter. She hardly knew what she would do, what +she might say; but she would trust to the opportunity to do and say +something.</p> + +<p>"If you have no room for me," he said to Mrs. Jones, "you must scold +Lady Mab. She has told me that you told her to invite me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I did. Do you think I would not sleep in the stables, and +give you up my own bed if there were no other? It is so good of you +to come!"</p> + +<p>"So good of you, Mrs. Jones, to ask me."</p> + +<p>"So very kind to come when all the attraction has gone!" Then he +blushed and stammered, and was just able to say that his only object +in life was to pour out his adoration at the feet of Mrs. Montacute +Jones herself.</p> + +<p>There was a certain Lady Fawn,—a pretty mincing married woman of +about twenty-five, with a husband much older, who liked mild +flirtations with mild young men. "I am afraid we've lost your great +attraction," she whispered to him.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not as long as Lady Fawn is here," he said, seating +himself close to her on a garden bench, and seizing suddenly hold of +her hand. She gave a little scream and a jerk, and so relieved +herself from him. "You see," said he, "people do make such mistakes +about a man's feelings."</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge!"</p> + +<p>"It's quite true, but I'll tell you all about it another time," and +so he left her. All these little troubles, his experience in the +"House," the necessity of snubbing Tifto, the choice of a wife, and +his battle with Reginald Dobbes, were giving him by degrees age and +flavour.</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel had fluttered about him on his first coming, and had been +very gracious, doing the part of an old friend. "There is to be a big +shooting to-morrow," she said, in the presence of Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"If it is to come to that," he said, "I might as well go back to +Dobbydom."</p> + +<p>"You may shoot if you like," said Lady Mabel.</p> + +<p>"I haven't even brought a gun with me."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll have a walk,—a whole lot of us," she said.</p> + +<p>In the evening, about an hour before dinner, Silverbridge and Lady +Mabel were seated together on the bank of a little stream which ran +on the other side of the road, but on a spot not more than a furlong +from the hall-door. She had brought him there, but she had done so +without any definite scheme. She had made no plan of campaign for the +evening, having felt relieved when she found herself able to postpone +the project of her attack till the morrow. Of course there must be an +attack, but how it should be made she had never had the courage to +tell herself. The great women of the world, the Semiramises, the +Pocahontas, the Ida Pfeiffers, and the Charlotte Cordays, had never +been wanting to themselves when the moment for action came. Now she +was pleased to have this opportunity added to her; this pleasant +minute in which some soft preparatory word might be spoken; but the +great effort should be made on the morrow.</p> + +<p>"Is not this nicer than shooting with Mr. Dobbes?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"A great deal nicer. Of course I am bound to say so."</p> + +<p>"But in truth, I want to find out what you really like. Men are so +different. You need not pay me any compliment; you know that well +enough."</p> + +<p>"I like you better than Dobbes,—if you mean that."</p> + +<p>"Even so much is something."</p> + +<p>"But I am fond of shooting."</p> + +<p>"Only a man may have enough of it."</p> + +<p>"Too much, if he is subject to Dobbes, as Dobbes likes them to be. +Gerald likes it."</p> + +<p>"Did you think it odd," she said after a pause, "that I should ask +you to come over again?"</p> + +<p>"Was it odd?" he replied.</p> + +<p>"That is as you may take it. There is certainly no other man in the +world to whom I would have done it."</p> + +<p>"Not to Tregear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said; "yes,—to Tregear, could I have been as sure of a +welcome for him as I am for you. Frank is in all respects the same as +a brother to me. That would not have seemed odd;—I mean to myself."</p> + +<p>"And has this been—odd,—to yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Not that anybody else has felt it so. Only I,—and perhaps you. +You felt it so?"</p> + +<p>"Not especially. I thought you were a very good fellow. I have always +thought that;—except when you made me take back the ring."</p> + +<p>"Does that still fret you?"</p> + +<p>"No man likes to take back a thing. It makes him seem to have been +awkward and stupid in giving it."</p> + +<p>"It was the value—"</p> + +<p>"You should have left me to judge of that."</p> + +<p>"If I have offended you I will beg your pardon. Give me anything +else, anything but that, and I will take it."</p> + +<p>"But why not that?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Now that you have fitted it for a lady's finger it should go to your +wife. No one else should have it."</p> + +<p>Upon this he brought the ring once more out of his pocket and again +offered it to her. "No; anything but that. That your wife must have." +Then he put the ring back again. "It would have been nicer for you +had Miss Boncassen been here." In saying this she followed no plan. +It came rather from pique. It was almost as though she had asked him +whether Miss Boncassen was to have the ring.</p> + +<p>"What makes you say that?"</p> + +<p>"But it would."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it would," he replied stoutly, turning round as he lay on the +ground and facing her.</p> + +<p>"Has it come to that?"</p> + +<p>"Come to what? You ask me a question and I answer you truly."</p> + +<p>"You cannot be happy without her?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say so. You ask me whether I should like to have her +here,—and I say Yes. What would you think of me if I said No?"</p> + +<p>"My being here is not enough?" This should not have been said, of +course, but the little speech came from the exquisite pain of the +moment. She had meant to have said hardly anything. She had intended +to be happy with him, just touching lightly on things which might +lead to that attack which must be made on the morrow. But words will +often lead whither the speaker has not intended. So it was now, and +in the soreness of her heart she spoke. "My being here is not +enough?"</p> + +<p>"It would be enough," he said, jumping on his feet, "if you +understood all, and would be kind to me."</p> + +<p>"I will at any rate be kind to you," she replied, as she sat upon the +bank looking at the running water.</p> + +<p>"I have asked Miss Boncassen to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"And she has accepted?"</p> + +<p>"No; not as yet. She is to take three months to think of it. Of +course I love her best of all. If you will sympathise with me in +that, then I will be as happy with you as the day is long."</p> + +<p>"No," said she, "I cannot. I will not."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"There should be no such marriage. If you have told me in +<span class="nowrap">confidence—"</span></p> + +<p>"Of course I have told you in confidence."</p> + +<p>"It will go no farther; but there can be no sympathy between us. +It—it—it is not,—is not—" Then she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Mabel!"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, no; no! What did you mean? But never mind. I have no +questions to ask, not a word to say. Why should I? Only this,—that +such a marriage will disgrace your family. To me it is no more than +to anybody else. But it will disgrace your family."</p> + +<p>How she got back to the house she hardly knew; nor did he. That +evening they did not again speak to each other, and on the following +morning there was no walk to the mountains. Before dinner he drove +himself back to Crummie-Toddie, and when he was taking his leave she +shook hands with him with her usual pleasant smile.</p> + + +<p><a name="c43" id="c43"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII</h3> +<h3>What Happened at Doncaster<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The Leger this year was to be run on the 14th September, and while +Lord Silverbridge was amusing himself with the deer at Crummie-Toddie +and at Killancodlem with the more easily pursued young ladies, the +indefatigable Major was hard at work in the stables. This came a +little hard on him. There was the cub-hunting to be looked after, +which made his presence at Runnymede necessary, and then that +"pig-headed fellow, Silverbridge" would not have the horses trained +anywhere but at Newmarket. How was he to be in two places at once? +Yet he was in two places almost at once: cub-hunting in the morning +at Egham and Bagshot, and sitting on the same evening at the +stable-door at Newmarket, with his eyes fixed upon Prime Minister.</p> + +<p>Gradually had he and Captain Green come to understand each other, and +though they did at last understand each other, Tifto would talk as +though there were no such correct intelligence;—when for instance he +would abuse Lord Silverbridge for being pig-headed. On such occasions +the Captain's remark would generally be short. "That be blowed!" he +would say, implying that that state of things between the two +partners, in which such complaints might be natural, had now been +brought to an end. But on one occasion, about a week before the race, +he spoke out a little plainer. "What's the use of your going on with +all that before me? It's settled what you've got to do."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that anything is settled," said the Major.</p> + +<p>"Ain't it? I thought it was. If it ain't you'll find yourself in the +wrong box. You've as straight a tip as a man need wish for, but if +you back out you'll come to grief. Your money's all on the other way +already."</p> + +<p>On the Friday before the race Silverbridge dined with Tifto at the +Beargarden. On the next morning they went down to Newmarket to see +the horse get a gallop, and came back the same evening. During all +this time, Tifto was more than ordinarily pleasant to his patron. The +horse and the certainty of the horse's success were the only subjects +mooted. "It isn't what I say," repeated Tifto, "but look at the +betting. You can't get five to four against him. They tell me that if +you want to do anything on the Sunday the pull will be the other +way."</p> + +<p>"I stand to lose over £20,000 already," said Silverbridge, almost +frightened by the amount.</p> + +<p>"But how much are you on to win?" said Tifto. "I suppose you could +sell your bets for £5,000 down."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew how to do it," said Silverbridge. But this was an +arrangement, which, if made just now, would not suit the Major's +views.</p> + +<p>They went to Newmarket, and there they met Captain Green. "Tifto," +said the young Lord, "I won't have that fellow with us when the horse +is galloping."</p> + +<p>"There isn't an honester man, or a man who understands a horse's +paces better in all England," said Tifto.</p> + +<p>"I won't have him standing alongside of me on the Heath," said his +Lordship.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I'm to help it."</p> + +<p>"If he's there I'll send the horse in;—that's all." Then Tifto found +it best to say a few words to Captain Green. But the Captain also +said a few words to himself. +<span class="nowrap">"D––––</span> +young fool; he don't know what +he's dropping into." Which assertion, if you lay aside the +unnecessary expletive, was true to the letter. Lord Silverbridge was +a young fool, and did not at all know into what a mess he was being +dropped by the united experience, perspicuity, and energy of the man +whose company on the Heath he had declined.</p> + +<p>The horse was quite a "picture to look at." Mr. Pook the trainer +assured his Lordship that for health and condition he had never seen +anything better. "Stout all over," said Mr. Pook, "and not an ounce +of what you may call flesh. And bright! just feel his coat, my Lord! +That's 'ealth,—that is; not dressing, nor yet macassar!"</p> + +<p>And then there were various evidences produced of his pace,—how he +had beaten that horse, giving him two pounds; how he had been beaten +by that, but only on a mile course; the Leger distance was just the +thing for Prime Minister; how by a lucky chance that marvellous quick +rat of a thing that had won the Derby had not been entered for the +autumn race; how Coalheaver was known to have had bad feet. "He's a +stout 'orse, no doubt,—is the 'Eaver," said Mr. Pook, "and that's +why the betting-men have stuck to him. But he'll be nowhere on +Wednesday. They're beginning to see it now, my Lord. I wish they +wasn't so sharp-sighted."</p> + +<p>In the course of the day, however, they met a gentleman who was of a +different opinion. He said loudly that he looked on the Heaver as the +best three-year-old in England. Of course as matters stood he wasn't +going to back the Heaver at even money;—but he'd take twenty-five to +thirty in hundreds between the two. All this ended in the bet being +accepted and duly booked by Lord Silverbridge. And in this way +Silverbridge added two thousand four hundred pounds to his +responsibilities.</p> + +<p>But there was worse than this coming. On the Sunday afternoon he went +down to Doncaster, of course in company with the Major. He was alive +to the necessity of ridding himself of the Major; but it had been +acknowledged that that duty could not be performed till after this +race had been run. As he sat opposite to his friend on their journey +to Doncaster, he thought of this in the train. It should be done +immediately on their return to London after the race. But the horse, +his Prime Minister, was by this time so dear to him that he intended +if possible to keep possession of the animal.</p> + +<p>When they reached Doncaster the racing-men were all occupied with +Prime Minister. The horse and Mr. Pook had arrived that day from +Newmarket, via Cambridge and Peterborough. Tifto, Silverbridge, and +Mr. Pook visited him together three times that afternoon and +evening;—and the Captain also visited the horse, though not in +company with Lord Silverbridge. To do Mr. Pook justice, no one could +be more careful. When the Captain came round with the Major, Mr. Pook +was there. But Captain Green did not enter the box,—had no wish to +do so, was of opinion that on such occasions no one whose business +did not carry him there should go near a horse. His only object +seemed to be to compliment Mr. Pook as to his care, skill, and good +fortune.</p> + +<p>It was on the Tuesday evening that the chief mischief was done. There +was a club at which many of the racing-men dined, and there Lord +Silverbridge spent his evening. He was the hero of the hour, and +everybody flattered him. It must be acknowledged that his head was +turned. They dined at eight and much wine was drunk. No one was +tipsy, but many were elated; and much confidence in their favourite +animals was imparted to men who had been sufficiently cautious before +dinner. Then cigars and soda-and-brandy became common and our young +friend was not more abstemious than others. Large sums were named, +and at last in three successive bets Lord Silverbridge backed his +horse for more than forty thousand pounds. As he was making the +second bet Mr. Lupton came across to him and begged him to hold his +hand. "It will be a nasty sum for you to lose, and winning it will be +nothing to you," he said. Silverbridge took it good-humouredly, but +said that he knew what he was about. "These men will pay," whispered +Lupton; "but you can't be quite sure what they're at." The young +man's brow was covered with perspiration. He was smoking quick and +had already smoked more than was good for him. "All right," he said. +"I'll mind what I'm about." Mr. Lupton could do no more, and retired. +Before the night was over bets had been booked to the amount stated, +and the Duke's son, who had promised that he would never plunge, +stood to lose about seventy thousand pounds upon the race.</p> + +<p>While this was going on Tifto sat not far from his patron, but +completely silent. During the day and early in the evening a few +sparks of the glory which scintillated from the favourite horse flew +in his direction. But he was on this occasion unlike himself, and +though the horse was to be run in his name had very little to say in +the matter. Not a boast came out of his mouth during dinner or after +dinner. He was so moody that his partner, who was generally anxious +to keep him quiet, more than once endeavoured to encourage him. But +he was unable to rouse himself. It was still within his power to run +straight; to be on the square, if not with Captain Green, at any rate +with Lord Silverbridge. But to do so he must make a clean breast with +his Lordship and confess the intended sin. As he heard all that was +being done, his conscience troubled him sorely. With pitch of this +sort he had never soiled himself before. He was to have three +thousand pounds from Green, and then there would be the bets he +himself had laid against the horse,—by Green's assistance! It would +be the making of him. Of what use had been all his "square" work to +him? And then Silverbridge had behaved so badly to him! But still, as +he sat there during the evening, he would have given a hand to have +been free from the attempt. He had had no conception before that he +could become subject to such misery from such a cause. He would make +it straight with Silverbridge this very night,—but that Silverbridge +was ever lighting fresh cigars and ever having his glass refilled. It +was clear to him that on this night Silverbridge could not be made to +understand anything about it. And the deed in which he himself was to +be the chief actor was to be done very early in the following +morning. At last he slunk away to bed.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, the morning of the day on which the race +was to be run, the Major tapped at his patron's door about seven +o'clock. Of course there was no answer, though the knock was +repeated. When young men overnight drink as much brandy-and-water as +Silverbridge had done, and smoke as many cigars, they are apt not to +hear knocks at their door made at seven o'clock. Nor was his +Lordship's servant up,—so that Tifto had no means of getting at him +except by personal invasion of the sanctity of his bedroom. But there +was no time, not a minute, to be lost. Now, within this minute that +was pressing on him, Tifto must choose his course. He opened the door +and was standing at the young man's head.</p> + +<p>"What the d–––– does this mean?" said +his Lordship angrily, as soon +as his visitor had succeeded in waking him. Tifto muttered something +about the horse which Silverbridge failed to understand. The young +man's condition was by no means pleasant. His mouth was furred by the +fumes of tobacco. His head was aching. He was heavy with sleep, and +this intrusion seemed to him to be a final indignity offered to him +by the man whom he now hated. "What business have you to come in +here?" he said, leaning on his elbow. "I don't care a straw for the +horse. If you have anything to say send my servant. Get out!"</p> + +<p>"Oh;—very well," said Tifto;—and Tifto got out.</p> + +<p>It was about an hour afterwards that Tifto returned, and on this +occasion a groom from the stables, and the young Lord's own servant, +and two or three other men were with him. Tifto had been made to +understand that the news now to be communicated, must be communicated +by himself, whether his Lordship were angry or not. Indeed, after +what had been done his Lordship's anger was not of much moment. In +his present visit he was only carrying out the pleasant little plan +which had been arranged for him by Captain Green. "What the mischief +is up?" said Silverbridge, rising in his bed.</p> + +<p>Then Tifto told his story, sullenly, doggedly, but still in a +perspicuous manner, and with words which admitted of no doubt. But +before he told the story he had excluded all but himself and the +groom. He and the groom had taken the horse out of the stable, it +being the animal's nature to eat his corn better after slight +exercise, and while doing so a nail had been picked up.</p> + +<p>"Is it much?" asked Silverbridge, jumping still higher in his bed. +Then he was told that it was very much,—that the iron had driven +itself into the horse's frog, and that there was actually no +possibility that the horse should run on that day.</p> + +<p>"He can't walk, my Lord," said the groom, in that authoritative voice +which grooms use when they desire to have their own way, and to make +their masters understand that they at any rate are not to have +theirs.</p> + +<p>"Where is Pook?" asked Silverbridge. But Mr. Pook was also still in +bed.</p> + +<p>It was soon known to Lord Silverbridge as a fact that in very truth +the horse could not run. Then sick with headache, with a stomach +suffering unutterable things, he had, as he dressed himself, to think +of his seventy thousand pounds. Of course the money would be +forthcoming. But how would his father look at him? How would it be +between him and his father now? After such a misfortune how would he +be able to break that other matter to the Duke, and say that he had +changed his mind about his marriage,—that he was going to abandon +Lady Mabel Grex, and give his hand and a future Duchess's coronet to +an American girl whose grandfather had been a porter?</p> + +<p>A nail in his foot! Well! He had heard of such things before. He knew +that such accidents had happened. What an ass must he have been to +risk such a sum on the well-being and safety of an animal who might +any day pick up a nail in his foot? Then he thought of the caution +which Lupton had given him. What good would the money have done him +had he won it? What more could he have than he now enjoyed? But to +lose such a sum of money! With all his advantages of wealth he felt +himself to be as forlorn and wretched as though he had nothing left +in the world before him.</p> + + +<p><a name="c44" id="c44"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIV</h3> +<h3>How It Was Done<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The story was soon about the town, and was the one matter for +discussion in all racing quarters. About the town! It was about +England, about all Europe. It had travelled to America and the +Indies, to Australia and the Chinese cities before two hours were +over. Before the race was run the accident was discussed and +something like the truth surmised in Cairo, Calcutta, Melbourne, and +San Francisco. But at Doncaster it was so all-pervading a matter that +down to the tradesmen's daughters and the boys at the free-school the +town was divided into two parties, one party believing it to have +been a "plant," and the other holding that the cause had been +natural. It is hardly necessary to say that the ring, as a rule, +belonged to the former party. The ring always suspects. It did not +behove even those who would win by the transaction to stand up for +its honesty.</p> + +<p>The intention had been to take the horse round a portion of the +outside of the course near to which his stable stood. A boy rode him +and the groom and Tifto went with him. At a certain spot on their +return Tifto had exclaimed that the horse was going lame in his off +fore-foot. As to this exclamation the boy and the two men were +agreed. The boy was then made to dismount and run for Mr. Pook; and +as he started Tifto commenced to examine the horse's foot. The boy +saw him raise the off fore-leg. He himself had not found the horse +lame under him, but had been so hustled and hurried out of the saddle +by Tifto and the groom that he had not thought on that matter till he +was questioned. So far the story told by Tifto and the groom was +corroborated by the boy,—except as to the horse's actual lameness. +So far the story was believed by all men,—except in regard to the +actual lameness. And so far it was true. Then, according to Tifto and +the groom, the other foot was looked at, but nothing was seen. This +other foot, the near fore-foot, was examined by the groom, who +declared himself to be so flurried by the lameness of such a horse at +such a time, that he hardly knew what he saw or what he did not see. +At any rate then in his confusion he found no cause of lameness, but +the horse was led into the stable as lame as a tree. Here Tifto found +the nail inserted into the very cleft of the frog of the near +fore-foot, and so inserted that he could not extract it till the +farrier came. That the farrier had extracted the nail from the part +of the foot indicated was certainly a fact.</p> + +<p>Then there was the nail. Only those who were most peculiarly +privileged were allowed to see the nail. But it was buzzed about the +racing quarters that the head of the nail,—an old rusty, straight, +and well-pointed nail,—bore on it the mark of a recent hammer. In +answer to this it was alleged that the blacksmith in extracting the +nail with his pincers, had of course operated on its head, had +removed certain particles of rust, and might easily have given it the +appearance of having been struck. But in answer to this the farrier, +who was a sharp fellow, and quite beyond suspicion in the matter, +declared that he had very particularly looked at the nail before he +extracted it,—had looked at it with the feeling on his mind that +something base might too probably have been done,—and that he was +ready to swear that the clear mark on the head of the nail was there +before he touched it. And then not in the stable, but lying under the +little dung-heap away from the stable-door, there was found a small +piece of broken iron bar, about a foot long, which might have +answered for a hammer,—a rusty bit of iron; and amidst the rust of +this was found such traces as might have been left had it been used +in striking such a nail. There were some who declared that neither on +the nail nor on the iron could they see anything. And among these was +the Major. But Mr. Lupton brought a strong magnifying-glass to bear, +and the world of examiners was satisfied that the marks were there.</p> + +<p>It seemed however to be agreed that nothing could be done. +Silverbridge would not lend himself at all to those who suspected +mischief. He was miserable enough, but in this great trouble he would +not separate himself from Tifto. "I don't believe a word of all +that," he said to Mr. Lupton.</p> + +<p>"It ought to be investigated at any rate," said Lupton.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pook may do as he likes, but I will have nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>Then Tifto came to him swaggering. Tifto had to go through a +considerable amount of acting, for which he was not very well +adapted. The Captain would have done it better. He would have +endeavoured to put himself altogether into the same boat with his +partner, and would have imagined neither suspicion or enmity on his +partner's part till suspicion or enmity had been shown. But Tifto, +who had not expected that the matter would be allowed to pass over +without some inquiry, began by assuming that Silverbridge would think +evil of him. Tifto, who at this moment would have given all that he +had in the world not to have done the deed, who now hated the +instigator of the deed, and felt something almost akin to love for +Silverbridge, found himself to be forced by circumstances to defend +himself by swaggering. "I don't understand all this that's going on, +my Lord," he said.</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," replied Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Any horse is subject to an accident. I am, I suppose, as great a +sufferer as you are, and a deuced sight less able to bear it."</p> + +<p>"Who has said anything to the contrary? As for bearing it, we must +take it as it comes,—both of us. You may as well know now as later +that I have done with racing—for ever."</p> + +<p>"What do you tell me that for? You can do as you like and I can do as +I like about that. If I had had my way about the horse this never +would have happened. Taking a horse out at that time in the +morning,—before a race!"</p> + +<p>"Why, you went with him yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—by Pook's orders. You allowed Pook to do just as he pleased. I +should like to know what money Pook has got on it, and which way he +laid it." This disgusted Silverbridge so much that he turned away and +would have no more to say to Tifto.</p> + +<p>Before one o'clock, at which hour it was stated nominally that the +races would commence, general opinion had formed itself,—and general +opinion had nearly hit the truth. General opinion declared that the +nail had been driven in wilfully,—that it had been done by Tifto +himself, and that Tifto had been instigated by Captain Green. Captain +Green perhaps over-acted his part a little. His intimacy with the +Major was well known, and yet, in all this turmoil, he kept himself +apart as though he had no interest in the matter. "I have got my +little money on, and what little I have I lose," he said in answer to +inquiries. But everyone knew that he could not but have a great +interest in a race, as to which the half owner of the favourite was a +peculiarly intimate friend of his own. Had he come down to the +stables and been seen about the place with Tifto it might have been +better. As it was, though he was very quiet, his name was soon mixed +up in the matter. There was one man who asserted it as a fact known +to himself that Green and Villiers,—one Gilbert Villiers,—were in +partnership together. It was very well known that Gilbert Villiers +would win two thousand five hundred pounds from Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>Then minute investigation was made into the betting of certain +individuals. Of course there would be great plunder, and where would +the plunder go? Who would get the money which poor Silverbridge would +lose? It was said that one at least of the large bets made on that +Tuesday evening could be traced to the same Villiers though not +actually made by him. More would be learned when the settling-day +should come. But there was quite enough already to show that there +were many men determined to get to the bottom of it all if possible.</p> + +<p>There came upon Silverbridge in his trouble a keen sense of his +position and a feeling of the dignity which he ought to support. He +clung during great part of the morning to Mr. Lupton. Mr. Lupton was +much his senior and they had never been intimate; but now there was +comfort in his society. "I am afraid you are hit heavily," said Mr. +Lupton.</p> + +<p>"Something over seventy thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Looking at what will be your property it is of course nothing. But +<span class="nowrap">if—"</span></p> + +<p>"If what?"</p> + +<p>"If you go to the Jews for it then it will become a great deal."</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly not do that."</p> + +<p>"Then you may regard it as a trifle," said Lupton.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't. It is not a trifle. I must tell my father. He'll find +the money."</p> + +<p>"There is no doubt about that."</p> + +<p>"He will. But I feel at present that I would rather change places +with the poorest gentleman I know than have to tell him. I have done +with races, Lupton."</p> + +<p>"If so, this will have been a happy day for you. A man in your +position can hardly make money by it, but he may lose so much! If a +man really likes the amusement,—as I do,—and risks no more than +what he has in his pocket, that may be very well."</p> + +<p>"At any rate I have done with it."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he went to see the race run, and everybody seemed to be +touched with pity for him. He carried himself well, saying as little +as he could of his own horse, and taking, or affecting to take, great +interest in the race. After the race he managed to see all those to +whom he had lost heavy stakes,—having to own to himself, as he did +so, that not one of them was a gentleman to whom he should like to +give his hand. To them he explained that his father was abroad,—that +probably his liabilities could not be settled till after his father's +return. He however would consult his father's agent and would then +appear on settling-day. They were all full of the blandest +courtesies. There was not one of them who had any doubt as to getting +his money,—unless the whole thing might be disputed on the score of +Tifto's villany. Even then payment could not be disputed, unless it +was proved that he who demanded the money had been one of the actual +conspirators. After having seen his creditors he went away up alone +to London.</p> + +<p>When in London he went to Carlton Terrace and spent the night in +absolute solitude. It had been his plan to join Gerald for some +partridge-shooting at Matching, and then to go yachting till such +time as he should be enabled to renew his suit to Miss Boncassen. +Early in November he would again ask her to be his wife. These had +been his plans. But now it seemed that everything was changed. +Partridge-shooting and yachting must be out of the question till this +terrible load was taken off his shoulders. Soon after his arrival at +the house two telegrams followed him from Doncaster. One was from +Gerald. "What is all this about Prime Minister? Is it a sell? I am so +unhappy." The other was from Lady Mabel,—for among other luxuries +Mrs. Montacute Jones had her own telegraph-wire at Killancodlem. "Can +this be true? We are all so miserable. I do hope it is not much." +From which he learned that his misfortune was already known to all +his friends.</p> + +<p>And now what was he to do? He ate his supper, and then without +hesitating for a moment,—feeling that if he did hesitate the task +would not be done on that night,—he sat down and wrote the following +letter:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Carlton Terrace, Sept. 14, 18—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mr. Moreton</span>,</p> + +<p>I have just come up from Doncaster. You have probably +heard what has been Prime Minister's fate. I don't know +whether any horse has ever been such a favourite for the +Leger. Early in the morning he was taken out and picked up +a nail. The consequence was he could not run.</p> + +<p>Now I must come to the bad part of my story. I have lost +seventy thousand pounds! It is no use beating about the +bush. The sum is something over that. What am I to do? If +I tell you that I shall give up racing altogether I dare +say you will not believe me. It is a sort of thing a man +always says when he wants money; but I feel now I cannot +help saying it.</p> + +<p>But what shall I do? Perhaps, if it be not too much +trouble, you will come up to town and see me. You can send +me a word by the wires.</p> + +<p>You may be sure of this, I shall make no attempt to raise +the money elsewhere, unless I find that my father will not +help me. You will understand that of course it must be +paid. You will understand also what I must feel about +telling my father, but I shall do so at once. I only wait +till I can hear from you.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>During the next day two despatches reached Lord Silverbridge, both of +them coming as he sat down to his solitary dinner. The first +consisted of a short but very civil note.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Messrs. Comfort and Criball present their compliments to +the Earl of Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>Messrs. C. and C. beg to offer their apologies for +interfering, but desire to inform his Lordship that should +cash be wanting to any amount in consequence of the late +races, they will be happy to accommodate his Lordship on +most reasonable terms at a moment's notice, upon his +Lordship's single bond.</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge may be sure of absolute secrecy.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Crasham Court, Crutched Friars, +Sept. 15, 18—.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The other despatch was a telegram from Mr. Moreton saying that he +would be in Carlton Terrace by noon on the following day.</p> + + +<p><a name="c45" id="c45"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLV</h3> +<h3>"There Shall Not Be Another Word About It"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Early in October the Duke was at Matching with his daughter, and +Phineas Finn and his wife were both with them. On the day after they +parted at Ischl the first news respecting Prime Minister had reached +him,—namely, that his son's horse had lost the race. This would not +have annoyed him at all, but that the papers which he read contained +some vague charge of swindling against somebody, and hinted that Lord +Silverbridge had been a victim. Even this would not have troubled +him,—might in some sort have comforted him,—were it not made +evident to him that his son had been closely associated with +swindlers in these transactions. If it were a mere question of money, +that might be settled without difficulty. Even though the sum lost +might have grown out of what he might have expected into some few +thousands, still he would bear it without a word, if only he could +separate his boy from bad companions. Then came Mr. Moreton's letter +telling the whole.</p> + +<p>At the meeting which took place between Silverbridge and his father's +agent at Carlton Terrace it was settled that Mr. Moreton should write +the letter. Silverbridge tried and found that he could not do it. He +did not know how to humiliate himself sufficiently, and yet could not +keep himself from making attempts to prove that according to all +recognised chances his bets had been good bets.</p> + +<p>Mr. Moreton was better able to accomplish the task. He knew the +Duke's mind. A very large discretion had been left in Mr. Moreton's +hands in regard to moneys which might be needed on behalf of that +dangerous heir!—so large that he had been able to tell Lord +Silverbridge that if the money was in truth lost according to Jockey +Club rules, it should all be forthcoming on the +settling-day,—certainly without assistance from Messrs. Comfort and +Criball. The Duke had been nervously afraid of such men of business +as Comfort and Criball, and from the earliest days of his son's +semi-manhood had been on his guard against them. Let any sacrifice be +made so that his son might be kept clear from Comforts and Criballs. +To Mr. Moreton he had been very explicit. His own pecuniary resources +were so great that they could bear some ravaging without serious +detriment. It was for his son's character and standing in the world, +for his future respectability and dignity, that his fears were so +keen, and not for his own money. By one so excitable, so fond of +pleasure as Lord Silverbridge, some ravaging would probably be made. +Let it be met by ready money. Such had been the Duke's instructions +to his own trusted man of business, and, acting on these +instructions, Mr. Moreton was able to tell the heir that the money +should be forthcoming.</p> + +<p>Mr. Moreton, after detailing the extent and the nature of the loss, +and the steps which he had decided upon taking, went on to explain +the circumstances as best he could. He had made some inquiry, and +felt no doubt that a gigantic swindle had been perpetrated by Major +Tifto and others. The swindle had been successful. Mr. Moreton had +consulted certain gentlemen of high character versed in affairs of +the turf. He mentioned Mr. Lupton among others,—and had been assured +that though the swindle was undoubted, the money had better be paid. +It was thought to be impossible to connect the men who had made the +bets with the perpetrators of the fraud;—and if Lord Silverbridge +were to abstain from paying his bets because his own partner had +ruined the animal which belonged to them jointly, the feeling would +be against him rather than in his favour. In fact the Jockey Club +could not sustain him in such refusal. Therefore the money would be +paid. Mr. Moreton, with some expressions of doubt, trusted that he +might be thought to have exercised a wise discretion. Then he went on +to express his own opinion in regard to the lasting effect which the +matter would have upon the young man. "I think," said he, "that his +Lordship is heartily sickened of racing, and that he will never +return to it."</p> + +<p>The Duke was of course very wretched when these tidings first reached +him. Though he was a rich man, and of all men the least careful of +his riches, still he felt that seventy thousand pounds was a large +sum of money to throw away among a nest of swindlers. And then it was +excessively grievous to him that his son should have been mixed up +with such men. Wishing to screen his son, even from his own anger, he +was careful to remember that the promise made that Tifto should be +dismissed, was not to take effect till after this race had been run. +There had been no deceit in that. But then Silverbridge had promised +that he would not "plunge." There are, however, promises which from +their very nature may be broken without falsehood. Plunging is a +doubtful word, and the path down to it, like all doubtful paths,—is +slippery and easy! If that assurance with which Mr. Moreton ended his +letter could only be made true, he could bring himself to forgive +even this offence. The boy must be made to settle himself in life. +The Duke resolved that his only revenge should be to press on that +marriage with Mabel Grex.</p> + +<p>At Coblenz, on their way home, the Duke and his daughter were caught +up by Mr. and Mrs. Finn, and the matter of the young man's losses was +discussed. Phineas had heard all about it, and was loud in +denunciations against Tifto, Captain Green, Gilbert Villiers, and +others whose names had reached him. The money, he thought, should +never have been paid. The Duke however declared that the money would +not cause a moment's regret, if only the whole thing could be got rid +of at that cost. It had reached Finn's ears that Tifto was already at +loggerheads with his associates. There was some hope that the whole +thing might be brought to light by this means. For all that the Duke +cared nothing. If only Silverbridge and Tifto could for the future be +kept apart, as far as he and his were concerned, good would have been +done rather than harm. While they were in this way together on the +Rhine it was decided that very soon after their return to England +Phineas and Mrs. Finn should go down to Matching.</p> + +<p>When the Duke arrived in London his sons were not there. Gerald had +gone back to Oxford, and Silverbridge had merely left an address. +Then his sister wrote him a very short letter. "Papa will be so glad +if you will come to Matching. Do come." Of course he came, and +presented himself some few days after the Duke's arrival.</p> + +<p>But he dreaded this meeting with his father which, however, let it be +postponed for ever so long, must come at last. In reference to this +he made a great resolution,—that he would go instantly as soon as he +might be sent for. When the summons came he started; but, though he +was by courtesy an Earl, and by fact was not only a man but a Member +of Parliament, though he was half engaged to marry one young lady and +ought to have been engaged to marry another, though he had come to an +age at which Pitt was a great minister and Pope a great poet, still +his heart was in his boots, as a schoolboy's might be, when he was +driven up to the house at Matching.</p> + +<p>In two minutes, before he had washed the dust from his face and +hands, he was with his father. "I am glad to see you, Silverbridge," +said the Duke, putting out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I hope I see you well, sir."</p> + +<p>"Fairly well. Thank you. Travelling I think agrees with me. I miss, +not my comforts, but a certain knowledge of how things are going on, +which comes to us I think through our skins when we are at home. A +feeling of absence pervades me. Otherwise I like it. And you;—what +have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Shooting a little," said Silverbridge, in a mooncalf tone.</p> + +<p>"Shooting a great deal, if what I see in the newspapers be true about +Mr. Reginald Dobbes and his party. I presume it is a religion to +offer up hecatombs to the autumnal gods,—who must surely take a +keener delight in blood and slaughter than those bloodthirsty gods of +old."</p> + +<p>"You should talk to Gerald about that, sir."</p> + +<p>"Has Gerald been so great at his sacrifices? How will that suit with +Plato? What does Mr. Simcox say?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they were all to have a holiday just at that time. But +Gerald is reading. I fancy that Gerald is clever."</p> + +<p>"And he is a great Nimrod?"</p> + +<p>"As to hunting."</p> + +<p>"Nimrod I fancy got his game in any way that he could compass it. I +do not doubt but that he trapped foxes."</p> + +<p>"With a rifle at deer, say for four hundred yards, I would back +Gerald against any man of his age in England or Scotland."</p> + +<p>"As for backing, Silverbridge, do not you think that we had better +have done with that?" This was said hardly in a tone of reproach, +with something even of banter in it; and as the question was asked +the Duke was smiling. But in a moment all that sense of joyousness +which the young man had felt in singing his brother's praises was +expelled. His face fell, and he stood before his father almost like a +culprit. "We might as well have it out about this racing," continued +the Duke. "Something has to be said about it. You have lost an +enormous sum of money." The Duke's tone in saying this became +terribly severe. Such at least was its sound in his son's ears. He +did not mean to be severe.</p> + +<p>But when he did speak of that which displeased him his voice +naturally assumed that tone of indignation with which in days of yore +he had been wont to denounce the public extravagance of his opponents +in the House of Commons. The father paused, but the son could not +speak at the moment.</p> + +<p>"And worse than that," continued the Duke; "you have lost it in as +bad company as you could have found had you picked all England +through."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lupton, and Sir Henry Playfair, and Lord Stirling were in the +room when the bets were made."</p> + +<p>"Were the gentlemen you name concerned with Major Tifto?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Who can tell with whom he may be in a room? Though rooms of that +kind are, I think, best avoided." Then the Duke paused again, but +Silverbridge was now sobbing so that he could hardly speak. "I am +sorry that you should be so grieved," continued the father, "but such +delights cannot, I think, lead to much real joy."</p> + +<p>"It is for you, sir," said the son, rubbing his eyes with the hand +which supported his head.</p> + +<p>"My grief in the matter might soon be cured."</p> + +<p>"How shall I cure it? I will do anything to cure it."</p> + +<p>"Let Major Tifto and the horses go."</p> + +<p>"They are gone," said Silverbridge energetically, jumping from his +chair as he spoke. "I will never own a horse again, or a part of a +horse. I will have nothing more to do with races. You will believe +me?"</p> + +<p>"I will believe anything that you tell me."</p> + +<p>"I won't say I will not go to another race, because—"</p> + +<p>"No; no. I would not have you hamper yourself. Nor shall you bind +yourself by any further promises. You have done with racing."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed I have, sir."</p> + +<p>Then the father came up to the son and put his arms round the young +man's shoulders and embraced him. "Of course it made me unhappy."</p> + +<p>"I knew it would."</p> + +<p>"But if you are cured of this evil, the money is nothing. What is it +all for but for you and your brother and sister? It was a large sum, +but that shall not grieve me. The thing itself is so dangerous that, +if with that much of loss we can escape, I will think that we have +made not a bad market. Who owns the horse now?"</p> + +<p>"The horses shall be sold."</p> + +<p>"For anything they may fetch so that we may get clear of this dirt. +And the Major?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of him. I have not seen him since that day."</p> + +<p>"Has he claims on you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a shilling. It is all the other way."</p> + +<p>"Let it go then. Be quit of him, however it may be. Send a messenger +so that he may understand that you have abandoned racing altogether. +Mr. Moreton might perhaps see him."</p> + +<p>That his father should forgive so readily and yet himself suffer so +deeply, affected the son's feelings so strongly that for a time he +could hardly repress his sobs. "And now there shall not be a word +more said about it," said the Duke suddenly.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge in his confusion could make no answer.</p> + +<p>"There shall not be another word said about it," said the Duke again. +"And now what do you mean to do with yourself immediately?"</p> + +<p>"I'll stay here, sir, as long as you do. Finn, and Warburton, and I +have still a few coverts to shoot."</p> + +<p>"That's a good reason for staying anywhere."</p> + +<p>"I meant that I would remain while you remained, sir."</p> + +<p>"That at any rate is a good reason, as far as I am concerned. But we +go to Custins next week."</p> + +<p>"There's a deal of shooting to be done at Gatherum," said the heir.</p> + +<p>"You speak of it as if it were the business of your life,—on which +your bread depended."</p> + +<p>"One can't expect game to be kept up if nobody goes to shoot it."</p> + +<p>"Can't one? I didn't know. I should have thought that the less was +shot the more there would be to shoot; but I am ignorant in such +matters." Silverbridge then broke forth into a long explanation as to +coverts, gamekeepers, poachers, breeding, and the expectations of the +neighbourhood at large, in the middle of which he was interrupted by +the Duke. "I am afraid, my dear boy, that I am too old to learn. But +as it is so manifestly a duty, go and perform it like a man. Who will +go with you?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask Mr. Finn to be one."</p> + +<p>"He will be very hard upon you in the way of politics."</p> + +<p>"I can answer him better than I can you, sir. Mr. Lupton said he +would come for a day or two. He'll stand to me."</p> + +<p>After that his father stopped him as he was about to leave the room. +"One more word, Silverbridge. Do you remember what you were saying +when you walked down to the House with me from your club that night?" +Silverbridge remembered very well what he had said. He had undertaken +to ask Mabel Grex to be his wife, and had received his father's ready +approval to the proposition. But at this moment he was unwilling to +refer to that matter. "I have thought about it very much since that," +said the Duke. "I may say that I have been thinking of it every day. +If there were anything to tell me, you would let me know;—would you +not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then there is nothing to be told? I hope you have not changed your +mind."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge paused a moment, trusting that he might be able to +escape the making of any answer;—but the Duke evidently intended to +have an answer. "It appeared to me, sir, that it did not seem to suit +her," said the hardly-driven young man. He could not now say that +Mabel had shown a disposition to reject his offer, because as they +had been sitting by the brookside at Killancodlem, even he, with all +his self-diffidence, had been forced to see what were her wishes. Her +confusion, and too evident despair when she heard of the offer to the +American girl, had plainly told her tale. He could not now plead to +his father that Mabel Grex would refuse his offer. But his +self-defence, when first he found that he had lost himself in love +for the American, had been based on that idea. He had done his best +to make Mabel understand him. If he had not actually offered to her, +he had done the next thing to it. And he had run after her, till he +was ashamed of such running. She had given him no encouragement;—and +therefore he had been justified. No doubt he must have been mistaken; +that he now perceived; but still he felt himself to be justified. It +was impossible that he should explain all this to his father. One +thing he certainly could not say,—just at present. After his folly +in regard to those heavy debts he could not at once risk his father's +renewed anger by proposing to him an American daughter-in-law. That +must stand over, at any rate till the girl had accepted him +positively. "I am afraid it won't come off, sir," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Then I am to presume that you have changed your mind?"</p> + +<p>"I told you when we were speaking of it that I was not confident."</p> + +<p>"She has not—"</p> + +<p>"I can't explain it all, sir,—but I fear it won't come off."</p> + +<p>Then the Duke, who had been sitting, got up from his chair and with +his back to the fire made a final little speech. "We decided just +now, Silverbridge, that nothing more should be said about that +unpleasant racing business, and nothing more shall be said by me. But +you must not be surprised if I am anxious to see you settled in life. +No young man could be more bound by duty to marry early than you are. +In the first place you have to repair the injury done by my +inaptitude for society. You have explained to me that it is your duty +to have the Barsetshire coverts properly shot, and I have acceded to +your views. Surely it must be equally your duty to see your +Barsetshire neighbours. And you are a young man every feature of +whose character would be improved by matrimony. As far as means are +concerned you are almost as free to make arrangements as though you +were already the head of the family."</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"I could never bring myself to dictate to a son in regard to his +choice of a wife. But I will own that when you told me that you had +chosen I was much gratified. Try and think again when you are pausing +amidst your sacrifices at Gatherum, whether that be possible. If it +be not, still I would wish you to bear in mind what is my idea as to +your duty." Silverbridge said that he would bear this in mind, and +then escaped from the room.</p> + + +<p><a name="c46" id="c46"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVI</h3> +<h3>Lady Mary's Dream<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When the Duke and his daughter reached Custins they found a large +party assembled, and were somewhat surprised at the crowd. Lord and +Lady Nidderdale were there, which might have been expected as they +were part of the family. With Lord Popplecourt had come his recent +friend Adolphus Longstaff. That too might have been natural. Mr. and +Miss Boncassen were there also, who at this moment were quite +strangers to the Duke; and Mr. Lupton. The Duke also found Lady +Chiltern, whose father-in-law had more than once sat in the same +Cabinet with himself, and Mr. Monk, who was generally spoken of as +the head of the coming Liberal Government, and the Ladies Adelaide +and Flora FitzHoward, the still unmarried but not very juvenile +daughters of the Duke of St. Bungay. These with a few others made a +large party, and rather confused the Duke, who had hardly reflected +that discreet and profitable love-making was more likely to go on +among numbers, than if the two young people were thrown together with +no other companions.</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt had been made to understand what was expected of +him, and after some hesitation had submitted himself to the +conspiracy. There would not be less at any rate than two hundred +thousand pounds;—and the connexion would be made with one of the +highest families in Great Britain. Though Lady Cantrip had said very +few words, those words had been expressive; and the young bachelor +peer had given in his adhesion. Some vague half-defined tale had been +told him,—not about Tregear, as Tregear's name had not been +mentioned,—but respecting some dream of a young man who had flitted +across the girl's path during her mother's lifetime. "All girls have +such dreams," Lady Cantrip had suggested. Whereupon Lord Popplecourt +said that he supposed it was so. "But a softer, purer, more unsullied +flower never waited on its stalk till the proper fingers should come +to pluck it," said Lady Cantrip, rising to unaccustomed poetry on +behalf of her friend the Duke. Lord Popplecourt accepted the poetry +and was ready to do his best to pluck the flower.</p> + +<p>Soon after the Duke's arrival Lord Popplecourt found himself in one +of the drawing-rooms with Lady Cantrip and his proposed +father-in-law. A hint had been given him that he might as well be +home early from shooting, so as to be in the way. As the hour in +which he was to make himself specially agreeable, both to the father +and to the daughter, had drawn nigh, he became somewhat nervous, and +now, at this moment, was not altogether comfortable. Though he had +been concerned in no such matter before, he had an idea that love was +a soft kind of thing which ought to steal on one unawares and come +and go without trouble. In his case it came upon him with a rough +demand for immediate hard work. He had not previously thought that he +was to be subjected to such labours, and at this moment almost +resented the interference with his ease. He was already a little +angry with Lady Cantrip, but at the same time felt himself to be so +much in subjection to her that he could not rebel.</p> + +<p>The Duke himself when he saw the young man was hardly more +comfortable. He had brought his daughter to Custins, feeling that it +was his duty to be with her; but he would have preferred to leave the +whole operation to the care of Lady Cantrip. He hardly liked to look +at the fish whom he wished to catch for his daughter. Whenever this +aspect of affairs presented itself to him, he would endeavour to +console himself by remembering the past success of a similar +transaction. He thought of his own first interview with his wife. +"You have heard," he had said, "what our friends wish." She had +pouted her lips, and when gently pressed had at last muttered, with +her shoulder turned to him, that she supposed it was to be so. Very +much more coercion had been used to her then than either himself or +Lady Cantrip had dared to apply to his daughter. He did not think +that his girl in her present condition of mind would signify to Lord +Popplecourt that "she supposed it was to be so." Now that the time +for the transaction was present he felt almost sure it would never be +transacted. But still he must go on with it. Were he now to abandon +his scheme, would it not be tantamount to abandoning everything? So +he wreathed his face in smiles,—or made some attempt at it,—as he +greeted the young man.</p> + +<p>"I hope you and Lady Mary had a pleasant journey abroad," said Lord +Popplecourt. Lord Popplecourt, being aware that he had been chosen as +a son-in-law, felt himself called upon to be familiar as well as +pleasant. "I often thought of you and Lady Mary, and wondered what +you were about."</p> + +<p>"We were visiting lakes and mountains, churches and picture +galleries, cities and salt-mines," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Does Lady Mary like that sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>"I think she was pleased with what she saw."</p> + +<p>"She has been abroad a great deal before, I believe. It depends so +much on whom you meet when abroad."</p> + +<p>This was unfortunate, because it recalled Tregear to the Duke's mind. +"We saw very few people whom we knew," he said.</p> + +<p>"I've been shooting in Scotland with Silverbridge, and Gerald, and +Reginald Dobbes, and Nidderdale,—and that fellow Tregear, who is so +thick with Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I'm told that Lord Gerald is going to be the great shot of his day," +said Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"It is a distinction," said the Duke bitterly.</p> + +<p>"He did not beat me by so much," continued Popplecourt. "I think +Tregear did the best with his rifle. One morning he potted three. +Dobbes was disgusted. He hated Tregear."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it stupid,—half-a-dozen men getting together in that way?" +asked Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"Nidderdale is always jolly."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that," said the mother-in-law.</p> + +<p>"And Gerald is a regular brick." The Duke bowed. "Silverbridge used +always to be going off to Killancodlem, where there were a lot of +ladies. He is very sweet, you know, on this American girl whom you +have here." Again the Duke winced. "Dobbes is awfully good as to +making out the shooting, but then he is a tyrant. Nevertheless I +agree with him, if you mean to do a thing you should do it."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said the Duke. "But you should make up your mind first +whether the thing is worth doing."</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Popplecourt. "And as grouse and deer together are +about the best things out, most of us made up our minds that it was +worth doing. But that fellow Tregear would argue it out. He said a +gentleman oughtn't to play billiards as well as a marker."</p> + +<p>"I think he was right," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mr. Tregear, Duke?"</p> + +<p>"I have met him—with my son."</p> + +<p>"Do you like him?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen very little of him."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say I do. He thinks so much of himself. Of course he is +very intimate with Silverbridge, and that is all that any one knows +of him." The Duke bowed almost haughtily, though why he bowed he +could hardly have explained to himself. Lady Cantrip bit her lips in +disgust. "He's just the fellow," continued Popplecourt, "to think +that some princess has fallen in love with him." Then the Duke left +the room.</p> + +<p>"You had better not talk to him about Mr. Tregear," said Lady +Cantrip.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether he approves of the intimacy between him and +Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I should think not;—a man without any position or a shilling in the +world."</p> + +<p>"The Duke is peculiar. If a subject is distasteful to him he does not +like it to be mentioned. You had better not mention Mr. Tregear." +Lady Cantrip, as she said this, blushed inwardly at her own +hypocrisy.</p> + +<p>It was of course contrived at dinner that Lord Popplecourt should +take out Lady Mary. It is impossible to discover how such things get +wind, but there was already an idea prevalent at Custins that Lord +Popplecourt had matrimonial views, and that these views were looked +upon favourably. "You may be quite sure of it, Mr. Lupton," Lady +Adelaide FitzHoward had said. "I'll make a bet they're married before +this time next year."</p> + +<p>"It will be a terrible case of Beauty and the Beast," said Lupton.</p> + +<p>Lady Chiltern had whispered a suspicion of the same kind, and had +expressed a hope that the lover would be worthy of the girl. And +Dolly Longstaff had chaffed his friend Popplecourt on the subject, +Popplecourt having laid himself open by indiscreet allusions to +Dolly's love for Miss Boncassen. "Everybody can't have it as easily +arranged for him as you,—a Duke's daughter and a pot of money +without so much as the trouble of asking for it!"</p> + +<p>"What do you know about the Duke's children?"</p> + +<p>"That's what it is to be a lord and not to have a father." +Popplecourt tried to show that he was disgusted; but he felt himself +all the more strongly bound to go on with his project.</p> + +<p>It was therefore a matter of course that these should-be lovers would +be sent out of the room together. "You'll give your arm to Mary," +Lady Cantrip said, dropping the ceremonial prefix. Lady Mary of +course went out as she was bidden. Though everybody else knew it, no +idea of what was intended had yet come across her mind.</p> + +<p>The should-be lover immediately reverted to the Austrian tour, +expressing a hope that his neighbour had enjoyed herself. "There's +nothing I like so much myself," said he, remembering some of the +Duke's words, "as mountains, cities, salt-mines, and all that kind of +thing. There's such a lot of interest about it."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a salt-mine?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—not exactly a salt-mine; but I have coal-mines on my property +in Staffordshire. I'm very fond of coal. I hope you like coal."</p> + +<p>"I like salt a great deal better—to look at."</p> + +<p>"But which do you think pays best? I don't mind telling you,—though +it's a kind of thing I never talk about to strangers,—the royalties +from the Blogownie and Toodlem mines go up regularly two thousand +pounds every year."</p> + +<p>"I thought we were talking about what was pretty to look at."</p> + +<p>"So we were. I'm as fond of pretty things as anybody. Do you know +Reginald Dobbes?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. Is he pretty?"</p> + +<p>"He used to be so angry with Silverbridge, because Silverbridge would +say Crummie-Toddie was ugly."</p> + +<p>"Was Crummie-Toddie ugly?"</p> + +<p>"Just a plain house on a moor."</p> + +<p>"That sounds ugly."</p> + +<p>"I suppose your family like pretty things?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"I do, I know." Lord Popplecourt endeavoured to look as though he +intended her to understand that she was the pretty thing which he +most particularly liked. She partly conceived his meaning, and was +disgusted accordingly. On the other side of her sat Mr. Boncassen, to +whom she had been introduced in the drawing-room,—and who had said a +few words to her about some Norwegian poet. She turned round to him, +and asked him some questions about the Skald, and so, getting into +conversation with him, managed to turn her shoulder to her suitor. On +the other side of him sat Lady Rosina de Courcy, to whom, as being an +old woman and an old maid, he felt very little inclined to be +courteous. She said a word, asking him whether he did not think the +weather was treacherous. He answered her very curtly, and sat bolt +upright, looking forward on the table, and taking his dinner as it +came to him. He had been put there in order that Lady Mary Palliser +might talk to him, and he regarded interference on the part of that +old American as being ungentlemanlike. But the old American +disregarded him, and went on with his quotations from the +Scandinavian bard.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Boncassen sat next to Lady Cantrip, and when at last he was +called upon to give his ear to the Countess, Lady Mary was again +vacant for Popplecourt's attentions.</p> + +<p>"Are you very fond of poetry?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Very fond."</p> + +<p>"So am I. Which do you like best, Tennyson or Shakespeare?"</p> + +<p>"They are very unlike."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—they are unlike. Or Moore's Melodies? I am very fond of 'When +in death I shall calm recline.' I think this equal to anything. +Reginald Dobbes would have it that poetry is all bosh."</p> + +<p>"Then I think that Mr. Reginald Dobbes must be all bosh himself."</p> + +<p>"There was a man there named Tregear who had brought some books." +Then there was a pause. Lady Mary had not a word to say. "Dobbes used +to declare that he was always pretending to read poetry."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tregear never pretends anything."</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?" asked the rival.</p> + +<p>"He is my brother's most particular friend."</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes. I dare say Silverbridge has talked to you about him. I +think he's a stuck-up sort of fellow." To this there was not a word +of reply. "Where did your brother pick him up?"</p> + +<p>"They were at Oxford together."</p> + +<p>"I must say I think he gives himself airs;—because, you know, he's +nobody."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything of the kind," said Lady Mary, becoming very +red. "And as he is my brother's most particular friend,—his very +friend of friends,—I think you had better not abuse him to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't think the Duke is very fond of him."</p> + +<p>"I don't care who is fond of him. I am very fond of Silverbridge, and +I won't hear his friend ill-spoken of. I dare say he had some books +with him. He is not at all the sort of a man to go to a place and +satisfy himself with doing nothing but killing animals."</p> + +<p>"Do you know him, Lady Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen him, and of course I have heard a great deal of him from +Silverbridge. I would rather not talk any more about him."</p> + +<p>"You seem to be very fond of Mr. Tregear," he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"It is no business of yours, Lord Popplecourt, whether I am fond of +anybody or not. I have told you that Mr. Tregear is my brother's +friend, and that ought to be enough."</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt was a young man possessed of a certain amount of +ingenuity. It was said of him that he knew on which side his bread +was buttered, and that if you wished to take him in you must get up +early. After dinner and during the night he pondered a good deal on +what he had heard. Lady Cantrip had told him there had been a—dream. +What was he to believe about that dream? Had he not better avoid the +error of putting too fine a point upon it, and tell himself at once +that a dream in this instance meant a—lover? Lady Mary had already +been troubled by a lover! He was disposed to believe that young +ladies often do have objectionable lovers, and that things get +themselves right afterwards. Young ladies can be made to understand +the beauty of coal-mines almost as readily as young gentlemen. There +would be the two hundred thousand pounds; and there was the girl, +beautiful, well-born, and thoroughly well-mannered. But what if this +Tregear and the dream were one and the same? If so, had he not +received plenty of evidence that the dream had not yet passed away? A +remnant of affection for the dream would not have been a fatal +barrier, had not the girl been so fierce with him in defence of her +dream. He remembered, too, what the Duke had said about Tregear, and +Lady Cantrip's advice to him to be silent in respect to this man. And +then do girls generally defend their brothers' friends as she had +defended Tregear? He thought not. Putting all these things together +on the following morning he came to an uncomfortable belief that +Tregear was the dream.</p> + +<p>Soon after that he found himself near to Dolly Longstaff as they were +shooting. "You know that fellow Tregear, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh Lord, yes. He is Silverbridge's pal."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear anything about him?"</p> + +<p>"What sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>"Was he ever—ever in love with any one?"</p> + +<p>"I fancy he used to be awfully spooney on Mab Grex. I remember +hearing that they were to have been married, only that neither of +them had sixpence."</p> + +<p>"Oh—Lady Mabel Grex! That's a horse of another colour."</p> + +<p>"And which is the horse of your colour?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't got a horse," said Lord Popplecourt, going away to his own +corner.</p> + + +<p><a name="c47" id="c47"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVII</h3> +<h3>Miss Boncassen's Idea of Heaven<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was generally known that Dolly Longstaff had been heavily smitten +by the charms of Miss Boncassen; but the world hardly gave him credit +for the earnestness of his affection. Dolly had never been known to +be in earnest in anything;—but now he was in very truth in love. He +had agreed to be Popplecourt's companion at Custins because he had +heard that Miss Boncassen would be there. He had thought over the +matter with more consideration than he had ever before given to any +subject. He had gone so far as to see his own man of business, with a +view of ascertaining what settlements he could make and what income +he might be able to spend. He had told himself over and over again +that he was not the "sort of fellow" that ought to marry; but it was +all of no avail. He confessed to himself that he was completely +"bowled over,"—"knocked off his pins!"</p> + +<p>"Is a fellow to have no chance?" he said to Miss Boncassen at +Custins.</p> + +<p>"If I understand what a fellow means, I am afraid not."</p> + +<p>"No man alive was ever more in earnest than I am."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Longstaff, I do not suppose that you have been trying to +take me in all this time."</p> + +<p>"I hope you do not think ill of me."</p> + +<p>"I may think well of a great many gentlemen without wishing to marry +them."</p> + +<p>"But does love go for nothing?" said Dolly, putting his hand upon his +heart. "Perhaps there are so many that love you."</p> + +<p>"Not above half-a-dozen or so."</p> + +<p>"You can make a joke of it, when I—. But I don't think, Miss +Boncassen, you at all realise what I feel. As to settlements and all +that, your father could do what he likes with me."</p> + +<p>"My father has nothing to do with it, and I don't know what +settlements mean. We never think anything of settlements in our +country. If two young people love each other they go and get +married."</p> + +<p>"Let us do the same here."</p> + +<p>"But the two young people don't love each other. Look here, Mr. +Longstaff; it's my opinion that a young woman ought not to be +pestered."</p> + +<p>"Pestered!"</p> + +<p>"You force me to speak in that way. I've given you an answer ever so +many times. I will not be made to do it over and over again."</p> + +<p>"It's that d–––– fellow, Silverbridge," +he exclaimed almost angrily. +On hearing this Miss Boncassen left the room without speaking another +word, and Dolly Longstaff found himself alone. He saw what he had +done as soon as she was gone. After that he could hardly venture to +persevere again—here at Custins. He weighed it over in his mind for +a long time, almost coming to a resolution in favour of hard drink. +He had never felt anything like this before. He was so uncomfortable +that he couldn't eat his luncheon, though in accordance with his +usual habit he had breakfasted off soda-and-brandy and a morsel of +devilled toast. He did not know himself in his changed character. "I +wonder whether she understands that I have four thousand pounds a +year of my own, and shall have twelve thousand pounds more when my +governor goes! She was so headstrong that it was impossible to +explain anything to her."</p> + +<p>"I'm off to London," he said to Popplecourt that afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! you said you'd stay for ten days."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I'm going at once. I've sent to Bridport for a trap, +and I shall sleep to-night at Dorchester."</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning of it all?"</p> + +<p>"I've had some words with somebody. Don't mind asking any more."</p> + +<p>"Not with the Duke?"</p> + +<p>"The Duke! No; I haven't spoken to him."</p> + +<p>"Or Lord Cantrip?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't ask questions."</p> + +<p>"If you've quarrelled with anybody you ought to consult a friend."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing of that kind."</p> + +<p>"Then it's a lady. It's the American girl!"</p> + +<p>"Don't I tell you I don't want to talk about it? I'm going. I've told +Lady Cantrip that my mother wasn't well and wants to see me. You'll +stop your time out, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You've got it all square, no doubt. I wish I'd a handle to my name. +I never cared for it before."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you're so down in the mouth. Why don't you try again? The +thing is to stick to 'em like wax. If ten times of asking won't do, +go in twenty times."</p> + +<p>Dolly shook his head despondently. "What can you do when a girl walks +out of the room and slams the door in your face? She'll get it hot +and heavy before she has done. I know what she's after. She might as +well cry for the moon." And so Dolly got into the trap and went to +Bridport, and slept that night at the hotel at Dorchester.</p> + +<p>Lord Popplecourt, though he could give such excellent advice to his +friend, had been able as yet to do very little in his own case. He +had been a week at Custins, and had said not a word to denote his +passion. Day after day he had prepared himself for the encounter, but +the lady had never given him the opportunity. When he sat next to her +at dinner she would be very silent. If he stayed at home on a morning +she was not visible. During the short evenings he could never get her +attention. And he made no progress with the Duke. The Duke had been +very courteous to him at Richmond, but here he was monosyllabic and +almost sullen.</p> + +<p>Once or twice Lord Popplecourt had a little conversation with Lady +Cantrip. "Dear girl!" said her ladyship. "She is so little given to +seeking admiration."</p> + +<p>"I dare say."</p> + +<p>"Girls are so different, Lord Popplecourt. With some of them it seems +that a gentleman need have no trouble in explaining what it is that +he wishes."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Lady Mary is like that at all."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. Any one who addresses her must be prepared to +explain himself fully. Nor ought he to hope to get much encouragement +at first. I do not think that Lady Mary will bestow her heart till +she is sure she can give it with safety." There was an amount of +falsehood in this which was proof at any rate of very strong +friendship on the part of Lady Cantrip.</p> + +<p>After a few days Lady Mary became more intimate with the American and +his daughter than with any others of the party. Perhaps she liked to +talk about the Scandinavian poets, of whom Mr. Boncassen was so fond. +Perhaps she felt sure that her transatlantic friend would not make +love to her. Perhaps it was that she yielded to the various +allurements of Miss Boncassen. Miss Boncassen saw the Duke of Omnium +for the first time at Custins, and there had the first opportunity of +asking herself how such a man as that would receive from his son and +heir such an announcement as Lord Silverbridge would have to make him +should she at the end of three months accept his offer. She was quite +aware that Lord Silverbridge need not repeat the offer unless he were +so pleased. But she thought that he would come again. He had so +spoken that she was sure of his love; and had so spoken as to obtain +hers. Yes;—she was sure that she loved him. She had never seen +anything like him before;—so glorious in his beauty, so gentle in +his manhood, so powerful and yet so little imperious, so great in +condition, and yet so little confident in his own greatness, so +bolstered up with external advantages, and so little apt to trust +anything but his own heart and his own voice. In asking for her love +he had put forward no claim but his own love. She was glad he was +what he was. She counted at their full value all his natural +advantages. To be an English Duchess! Oh—yes; her ambition +understood it all! But she loved him, because in the expression of +his love no hint had fallen from him of the greatness of the benefits +which he could confer upon her. Yes, she would like to be a Duchess; +but not to be a Duchess would she become the wife of a man who should +begin his courtship by assuming a superiority.</p> + +<p>Now the chances of society had brought her into the company of his +nearest friends. She was in the house with his father and with his +sister. Now and again the Duke spoke a few words to her, and always +did so with a peculiar courtesy. But she was sure that the Duke had +heard nothing of his son's courtship. And she was equally sure that +the matter had not reached Lady Mary's ears. She perceived that the +Duke and her father would often converse together. Mr. Boncassen +would discuss republicanism generally, and the Duke would explain +that theory of monarchy as it prevails in England, which but very few +Americans have ever been made to understand. All this Miss Boncassen +watched with pleasure. She was still of opinion that it would not +become her to force her way into a family which would endeavour to +repudiate her. She would not become this young man's wife if all +connected with the young man were resolved to reject the contact. But +if she could conquer them,—then,—then she thought that she could +put her little hand into that young man's grasp with a happy heart.</p> + +<p>It was in this frame of mind that she laid herself out not +unsuccessfully to win the esteem of Lady Mary Palliser. "I do not +know whether you approve it," Lady Cantrip said to the Duke; "but +Mary has become very intimate with our new American friend." At this +time Lady Cantrip had become very nervous,—so as almost to wish that +Lady Mary's difficulties might be unravelled elsewhere than at +Custins.</p> + +<p>"They seem to be sensible people," said the Duke. "I don't know when +I have met a man with higher ideas on politics than Mr. Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"His daughter is popular with everybody."</p> + +<p>"A nice ladylike girl," said the Duke, "and appears to have been well +educated."</p> + +<p>It was now near the end of October, and the weather was peculiarly +fine. Perhaps in our climate, October would of all months be the most +delightful if something of its charms were not detracted from by the +feeling that with it will depart the last relics of the delights of +summer. The leaves are still there with their gorgeous colouring, but +they are going. The last rose still lingers on the bush, but it is +the last. The woodland walks are still pleasant to the feet, but +caution is heard on every side as to the coming winter.</p> + +<p>The park at Custins, which was spacious, had many woodland walks +attached to it, from which, through vistas of the timber, distant +glimpses of the sea were caught. Within half a mile of the house the +woods were reached, and within a mile the open sea was in sight,—and +yet the wanderers might walk for miles without going over the same +ground. Here, without other companions, Lady Mary and Miss Boncassen +found themselves one afternoon, and here the latter told her story to +her lover's sister. "I so long to tell you something," she said.</p> + +<p>"Is it a secret?" asked Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; it is,—if you will keep it so. I would rather you should +keep it a secret. But I will tell you." Then she stood still, looking +into the other's face. "I wonder how you will take it."</p> + +<p>"What can it be?"</p> + +<p>"Your brother has asked me to be his wife."</p> + +<p>"Silverbridge!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—Lord Silverbridge. You are astonished."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary was very much astonished,—so much astonished that words +escaped from her, which she regretted afterwards. "I thought there +was someone else."</p> + +<p>"Who else?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Mabel Grex. But I know nothing."</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Miss Boncassen slowly. "I have seen them together +and I think not. There might be somebody, though I think not her. But +why do I say that? Why do I malign him, and make so little of myself? +There is no one else, Lady Mary. Is he not true?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is true."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he is true. And he has asked me to be his wife."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—what do you think? What is it probable that such a girl as I +would say when such a man as your brother asks her to be his wife? Is +he not such a man as a girl would love?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes."</p> + +<p>"Is he not handsome as a god?" Mary stared at her with all her eyes. +"And sweeter than any god those pagan races knew? And is he not +good-tempered, and loving; and has he not that perfection of manly +dash without which I do not think I could give my heart to any man?"</p> + +<p>"Then you have accepted him?"</p> + +<p>"And his rank and his wealth! The highest position in all the world +in my eyes."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you should take him for that."</p> + +<p>"Does it not all help? Can you put yourself in my place? Why should I +refuse him? No, not for that. I would not take him for that. But if I +love him,—because he is all that my imagination tells me that a man +ought to be;—if to be his wife seems to me to be the greatest bliss +that could happen to a woman; if I feel that I could die to serve +him, that I could live to worship him, that his touch would be sweet +to me, his voice music, his strength the only support in the world on +which I would care to lean,—what then?"</p> + +<p>"Is it so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is so. It is after that fashion that I love him. He is my +hero;—and not the less so because there is none higher than he among +the nobles of the greatest land under the sun. Would you have me for +a sister?" Lady Mary could not answer all at once. She had to think +of her father;—and then she thought of her own lover. Why should not +Silverbridge be as well entitled to his choice as she considered +herself to be? And yet how would it be with her father? Silverbridge +would in process of time be the head of the family. Would it be +proper that he should marry an American?</p> + +<p>"You would not like me for a sister?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of my father. For myself I like you."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you what I said to him?"</p> + +<p>"If you will."</p> + +<p>"I told him that he must ask his friends;—that I would not be his +wife to be rejected by them all. Nor will I. Though it be heaven I +will not creep there through a hole. If I cannot go in with my head +upright, I will not go even there." Then she turned round as though +she were prepared in her emotion to walk back to the house alone. But +Lady Mary ran after her, and having caught her, put her arm round her +waist and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"I at any rate will love you," said Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"I will do as I have said," continued Miss Boncassen. "I will do as I +have said. Though I love your brother down to the ground he shall not +marry me without his father's consent." Then they returned arm-in-arm +close together; but very little more was said between them.</p> + +<p>When Lady Mary entered the house she was told that Lady Cantrip +wished to see her in her own room.</p> + + +<p><a name="c48" id="c48"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII</h3> +<h3>The Party at Custins Is Broken Up<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The message was given to Lady Mary after so solemn a fashion that she +was sure some important communication was to be made to her. Her mind +at that moment had been filled with her new friend's story. She felt +that she required some time to meditate before she could determine +what she herself would wish; but when she was going to her own room, +in order that she might think it over, she was summoned to Lady +Cantrip. "My dear," said the Countess, "I wish you to do something to +oblige me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will."</p> + +<p>"Lord Popplecourt wants to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Popplecourt."</p> + +<p>"What can Lord Popplecourt have to say to me?"</p> + +<p>"Can you not guess? Lord Popplecourt is a young nobleman, standing +very high in the world, possessed of ample means, just in that +position in which it behoves such a man to look about for a wife." +Lady Mary pressed her lips together, and clenched her two hands. "Can +you not imagine what such a gentleman may have to say?" Then there +was a pause, but she made no immediate answer. "I am to tell you, my +dear, that your father would approve of it."</p> + +<p>"Approve of what?"</p> + +<p>"He approves of Lord Popplecourt as a suitor for your hand."</p> + +<p>"How can he?"</p> + +<p>"Why not, Mary? Of course he has made it his business to ascertain +all particulars as to Lord Popplecourt's character and property."</p> + +<p>"Papa knows that I love somebody else."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mary, that is all vanity."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that papa can want to see me married to a man when he +knows that with all my heart and +<span class="nowrap">soul—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh Mary!"</p> + +<p>"When he knows," continued Mary, who would not be put down, "that I +love another man with all my heart. What will Lord Popplecourt say if +I tell him that? If he says anything to me, I shall tell him. Lord +Popplecourt! He cares for nothing but his coal-mines. Of course, if +you bid me see him I will; but it can do no good. I despise him, and +if he troubles me I shall hate him. As for marrying him,—I would +sooner die this minute."</p> + +<p>After this Lady Cantrip did not insist on the interview. She +expressed her regret that things should be as they were,—explained +in sweetly innocent phrases that in a certain rank of life young +ladies could not always marry the gentlemen to whom their fancies +might attach them, but must, not unfrequently, postpone their +youthful inclinations to the will of their elders,—or in less +delicate language, that though they might love in one direction they +must marry in another; and then expressed a hope that her dear Mary +would think over these things and try to please her father. "Why does +he not try to please me?" said Mary. Then Lady Cantrip was obliged to +see Lord Popplecourt, a necessity which was a great nuisance to her. +"Yes;—she understands what you mean. But she is not prepared for it +yet. You must wait awhile."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why I am to wait."</p> + +<p>"She is very young,—and so are you, indeed. There is plenty of +time."</p> + +<p>"There is somebody else I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I told you," said Lady Cantrip, in her softest voice, "that there +has been a dream across her path."</p> + +<p>"It's that Tregear!"</p> + +<p>"I am not prepared to mention names," said Lady Cantrip, astonished +that he should know so much. "But indeed you must wait."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it, Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"What can I say more? If you think that such a girl as Lady Mary +Palliser, the daughter of the Duke of Omnium, possessed of fortune, +beauty, and every good gift, is to come like a bird to your call, you +will find yourself mistaken. All that her friends can do for you will +be done. The rest must remain with yourself." During that evening +Lord Popplecourt endeavoured to make himself pleasant to one of the +FitzHoward young ladies, and on the next morning he took his leave of +Custins.</p> + +<p>"I will never interfere again in reference to anybody else's child as +long as I live," Lady Cantrip said to her husband that night.</p> + +<p>Lady Mary was very much tempted to open her heart to Miss Boncassen. +It would be delightful to her to have a friend; but were she to +engage Miss Boncassen's sympathies on her behalf, she must of course +sympathise with Miss Boncassen in return. And what if, after all, +Silverbridge were not devoted to the American beauty! What if it +should turn out that he was going to marry Lady Mabel Grex! "I wish +you would call me Isabel," her friend said to her. "It is so +odd,—since I have left New York I have never heard my name from any +lips except father's and mother's."</p> + +<p>"Has not Silverbridge ever called you by your Christian name?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. I am sure he never has." But he had, though it had +passed by her at the moment without attention. "It all came from him +so suddenly. And yet I expected it. But it was too sudden for +Christian names and pretty talk. I do not even know what his name +is."</p> + +<p>"Plantagenet;—but we always call him Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Plantagenet is very much prettier. I shall always call him +Plantagenet. But I recall that. You will not remember that against +me?"</p> + +<p>"I will remember nothing that you do not wish."</p> + +<p>"I mean that if,—if all the grandeurs of all the Pallisers could +consent to put up with poor me, if heaven were opened to me with a +straight gate, so that I could walk out of our republic into your +aristocracy with my head erect, with the stars and stripes waving +proudly round me till I had been accepted into the shelter of the +Omnium griffins,—then I would call +<span class="nowrap">him—"</span></p> + +<p>"There's one Palliser would welcome you."</p> + +<p>"Would you, dear? Then I will love you so dearly. May I call you +Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you may."</p> + +<p>"Mary is the prettiest name under the sun. But Plantagenet is so +grand! Which of the kings did you branch off from?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it. From none of them, I should think. There is +some story about a Sir Guy who was a king's friend. I never trouble +myself about it. I hate aristocracy."</p> + +<p>"Do you, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mary, full of her own grievances. "It is an abominable +bondage, and I do not see that it does any good at all."</p> + +<p>"I think it is so glorious," said the American. "There is no such +mischievous nonsense in all the world as equality. That is what +father says. What men ought to want is liberty."</p> + +<p>"It is terrible to be tied up in a small circle," said the Duke's +daughter.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Lady Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were to call me Mary. What I mean is this. Suppose +that Silverbridge loves you better than all the world."</p> + +<p>"I hope he does. I think he does."</p> + +<p>"And suppose he cannot marry you, because of his—aristocracy?"</p> + +<p>"But he can."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were saying yourself—"</p> + +<p>"Saying what? That he could not marry me! No, indeed! But that under +certain circumstances I would not marry him. You don't suppose that I +think he would be disgraced? If so I would go away at once, and he +should never again see my face or hear my voice. I think myself good +enough for the best man God ever made. But if others think +differently, and those others are so closely concerned with him, and +would be so closely concerned with me, as to trouble our joint +lives,—then will I neither subject him to such sorrow nor will I +encounter it myself."</p> + +<p>"It all comes from what you call aristocracy."</p> + +<p>"No, dear;—but from the prejudices of an aristocracy. To tell the +truth, Mary, the more difficult a place is to get into, the more the +right of going in is valued. If everybody could be a Duchess and a +Palliser, I should not perhaps think so much about it."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was because you loved him."</p> + +<p>"So I do. I love him entirely. I have said not a word of that to +him;—but I do, if I know at all what love is. But if you love a +star, the pride you have in your star will enhance your love. Though +you know that you must die of your love, still you must love your +star."</p> + +<p>And yet Mary could not tell her tale in return. She could not show +the reverse picture;—that she being a star was anxious to dispose of +herself after the fashion of poor human rushlights. It was not that +she was ashamed of her love, but that she could not bring herself to +yield altogether in reference to the great descent which Silverbridge +would have to make.</p> + +<p>On the day after this,—the last day of the Duke's sojourn at +Custins, the last also of the Boncassens' visit,—it came to pass +that the Duke and Mr. Boncassen, with Lady Mary and Isabel, were all +walking in the woods together. And it so happened when they were at a +little distance from the house, each of the girls was walking with +the other girl's father. Isabel had calculated what she would say to +the Duke should a time for speaking come to her. She could not tell +him of his son's love. She could not ask his permission. She could +not explain to him all her feelings, or tell him what she thought of +her proper way of getting into heaven. That must come afterwards if +it should ever come at all. But there was something that she could +tell. "We are so different from you," she said, speaking of her own +country.</p> + +<p>"And yet so like," said the Duke, smiling;—"your language, your +laws, your habits!"</p> + +<p>"But still there is such a difference! I do not think there is a man +in the whole Union more respected than father."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not."</p> + +<p>"Many people think that if he would only allow himself to be put in +nomination, he might be the next president."</p> + +<p>"The choice, I am sure, would do your country honour."</p> + +<p>"And yet his father was a poor labourer who earned his bread among +the shipping at New York. That kind of thing would be impossible +here."</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady, there you wrong us."</p> + +<p>"Do I?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly! A Prime Minister with us might as easily come from the +same class."</p> + +<p>"Here you think so much of rank. You are—a Duke."</p> + +<p>"But a Prime Minister can make a Duke; and if a man can raise himself +by his own intellect to that position, no one will think of his +father or his grandfather. The sons of merchants have with us been +Prime Ministers more than once, and no Englishmen ever were more +honoured among their countrymen. Our peerage is being continually +recruited from the ranks of the people, and hence it gets its +strength."</p> + +<p>"Is it so?"</p> + +<p>"There is no greater mistake than to suppose that inferiority of +birth is a barrier to success in this country."</p> + +<p>She listened to this and to much more on the same subject with +attentive ears,—not shaken in her ideas as to the English +aristocracy in general, but thinking that she was perhaps learning +something of his own individual opinions. If he were more liberal +than others, on that liberality might perhaps be based her own +happiness and fortune.</p> + +<p>He, in all this, was quite unconscious of the working of her mind. +Nor in discussing such matters generally did he ever mingle his own +private feelings, his own pride of race and name, his own ideas of +what was due to his ancient rank with the political creed by which +his conduct in public life was governed. The peer who sat next to him +in the House of Lords, whose grandmother had been a washerwoman and +whose father an innkeeper, was to him every whit as good a peer as +himself. And he would as soon sit in counsel with Mr. Monk, whose +father had risen from a mechanic to be a merchant, as with any +nobleman who could count ancestors against himself. But there was an +inner feeling in his bosom as to his own family, his own name, his +own children, and his own personal self, which was kept altogether +apart from his grand political theories. It was a subject on which he +never spoke; but the feeling had come to him as a part of his +birthright. And he conceived that it would pass through him to his +children after the same fashion. It was this which made the idea of a +marriage between his daughter and Tregear intolerable to him, and +which would operate as strongly in regard to any marriage which his +son might contemplate. Lord Grex was not a man with whom he would +wish to form any intimacy. He was, we may say, a wretched +unprincipled old man, bad all round; and such the Duke knew him to +be. But the blue blood and the rank were there; and as the girl was +good herself, he would have been quite contented that his son should +marry the daughter of Lord Grex. That one and the same man should +have been in one part of himself so unlike the other part,—that he +should have one set of opinions so contrary to another set,—poor +Isabel Boncassen did not understand.</p> + + +<p><a name="c49" id="c49"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIX</h3> +<h3>The Major's Fate<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The affair of Prime Minister and the nail was not allowed to fade +away into obscurity. Through September and October it was made matter +for pungent inquiry. The Jockey Club was alive. Mr. Pook was very +instant,—with many Pookites anxious to free themselves from +suspicion. Sporting men declared that the honour of the turf required +that every detail of the case should be laid open. But by the end of +October, though every detail had been surmised, nothing had in truth +been discovered. Nobody doubted but that Tifto had driven the nail +into the horse's foot, and that Green and Gilbert Villiers had shared +the bulk of the plunder. They had gone off on their travels together, +and the fact that each of them had been in possession of about twenty +thousand pounds was proved. But then there is no law against two +gentlemen having such a sum of money. It was notorious that Captain +Green and Mr. Gilbert Villiers had enriched themselves to this extent +by the failure of Prime Minister. But yet nothing was proved!</p> + +<p>That the Major had either himself driven in the nail or seen it done, +all racing men were agreed. He had been out with the horse in the +morning and had been the first to declare that the animal was lame. +And he had been with the horse till the farrier had come. But he had +concocted a story for himself. He did not dispute that the horse had +been lamed by the machinations of Green and Villiers,—with the +assistance of the groom. No doubt, he said, these men, who had been +afraid to face an inquiry, had contrived and had carried out the +iniquity. How the lameness had been caused he could not pretend to +say. The groom who was at the horse's head, and who evidently knew +how these things were done, might have struck a nerve in the horse's +foot with his boot. But when the horse was got into the stable he, +Tifto,—so he declared,—at once ran out to send for the farrier. +During the minutes so occupied the operation must have been made with +the nail. That was Tifto's story,—and as he kept his ground, there +were some few who believed it.</p> + +<p>But though the story was so far good, he had at moments been +imprudent, and had talked when he should have been silent. The whole +matter had been a torment to him. In the first place his conscience +made him miserable. As long as it had been possible to prevent the +evil he had hoped to make a clean breast of it to Lord Silverbridge. +Up to this period of his life everything had been "square" with him. +He had betted "square," and had ridden "square," and had run horses +"square." He had taken a pride in this, as though it had been a great +virtue. It was not without great inward grief that he had deprived +himself of the consolations of these reflections! But when he had +approached his noble partner, his noble partner snubbed him at every +turn,—and he did the deed.</p> + +<p>His reward was to be three thousand pounds,—and he got his money. +The money was very much to him,—would perhaps have been almost +enough to comfort him in his misery, had not those other rascals got +so much more. When he heard that the groom's fee was higher than his +own, it almost broke his heart. Green and Villiers, men of infinitely +lower standing,—men at whom the Beargarden would not have +looked,—had absolutely netted fortunes on which they could live in +comfort. No doubt they had run away while Tifto still stood his +ground;—but he soon began to doubt whether to have run away with +twenty thousand pounds was not better than to remain with such small +plunder as had fallen to his lot, among such faces as those which now +looked upon him! Then when he had drunk a few glasses of +whisky-and-water, he said something very foolish as to his power of +punishing that swindler Green.</p> + +<p>An attempt had been made to induce Silverbridge to delay the payment +of his bets;—but he had been very eager that they should be paid. +Under the joint auspices of Mr. Lupton and Mr. Moreton the horses +were sold, and the establishment was annihilated,—with considerable +loss, but with great despatch. The Duke had been urgent. The Jockey +Club, and the racing world, and the horsey fraternity generally, +might do what seemed to them good,—so that Silverbridge was +extricated from the matter. Silverbridge was extricated,—and the +Duke cared nothing for the rest.</p> + +<p>But Silverbridge could not get out of the mess quite so easily as his +father wished. Two questions arose about Major Tifto, outside the +racing world, but within the domain of the world of sport and +pleasure generally, as to one of which it was impossible that +Silverbridge should not express an opinion. The first question had +reference to the Mastership of the Runnymede hounds. In this our +young friend was not bound to concern himself. The other affected the +Beargarden Club; and, as Lord Silverbridge had introduced the Major, +he could hardly forbear from the expression of an opinion.</p> + +<p>There was a meeting of the subscribers to the hunt in the last week +of October. At that meeting Major Tifto told his story. There he was, +to answer any charge which might be brought against him. If he had +made money by losing the race,—where was it and whence had it come? +Was it not clear that a conspiracy might have been made without his +knowledge;—and clear also that the real conspirators had levanted? +He had not levanted! The hounds were his own. He had undertaken to +hunt the country for this season, and they had undertaken to pay him +a certain sum of money. He should expect and demand that sum of +money. If they chose to make any other arrangement for the year +following they could do so. Then he sat down and the meeting was +adjourned,—the secretary having declared that he would not act in +that capacity any longer, nor collect the funds. A farmer had also +asserted that he and his friends had resolved that Major Tifto should +not ride over their fields. On the next day the Major had his hounds +out, and some of the London men, with a few of the neighbours, joined +him. Gates were locked; but the hounds ran, and those who chose to +ride managed to follow them. There are men who will stick to their +sport though Apollyon himself should carry the horn. Who cares +whether the lady who fills a theatre be or be not a moral young +woman, or whether the bandmaster who keeps such excellent time in a +ball has or has not paid his debts? There were men of this sort who +supported Major Tifto;—but then there was a general opinion that the +Runnymede hunt would come to an end unless a new Master could be +found.</p> + +<p>Then in the first week in November a special meeting was called at +the Beargarden, at which Lord Silverbridge was asked to attend. "It +is impossible that he should be allowed to remain in the club." This +was said to Lord Silverbridge by Mr. Lupton. "Either he must go or +the club must be broken up."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge was very unhappy on the occasion. He had at last been +reasoned into believing that the horse had been made the victim of +foul play; but he persisted in saying that there was no conclusive +evidence against Tifto. The matter was argued with him. Tifto had +laid bets against the horse; Tifto had been hand-and-glove with +Green; Tifto could not have been absent from the horse above two +minutes; the thing could not have been arranged without Tifto. As he +had brought Tifto into the club, and had been his partner on the +turf, it was his business to look into the matter. "But for all +that," said he, "I'm not going to jump on a man when he's down, +unless I feel sure that he's guilty."</p> + +<p>Then the meeting was held, and Tifto himself appeared. When the +accusation was made by Mr. Lupton, who proposed that he should be +expelled, he burst into tears. The whole story was repeated,—the +nail, and the hammer, and the lameness; and the moments were counted +up, and poor Tifto's bets and friendship with Green were made +apparent,—and the case was submitted to the club. An old gentleman +who had been connected with the turf all his life, and who would not +have scrupled, by square betting, to rob his dearest friend of his +last shilling, seconded the proposition,—telling all the story over +again. Then Major Tifto was asked whether he wished to say anything.</p> + +<p>"I've got to say that I'm here," said Tifto, still crying, "and if +I'd done anything of that kind, of course I'd have gone with the rest +of 'em. I put it to Lord Silverbridge to say whether I'm that sort of +fellow." Then he sat down.</p> + +<p>Upon this there was a pause, and the club was manifestly of opinion +that Lord Silverbridge ought to say something. "I think that Major +Tifto should not have betted against the horse," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I can explain that," said the Major. "Let me explain that. Everybody +knows that I'm a man of small means. I wanted to 'edge, I only wanted +to 'edge."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lupton shook his head. "Why have you not shown me your book?"</p> + +<p>"I told you before that it was stolen. Green got hold of it. I did +win a little. I never said I didn't. But what has that to do with +hammering a nail into a horse's foot? I have always been true to you, +Lord Silverbridge, and you ought to stick up for me now."</p> + +<p>"I will have nothing further to do with the matter," said +Silverbridge, "one way or the other," and he walked out of the +room,—and out of the club. The affair was ended by a magnanimous +declaration on the part of Major Tifto that he would not remain in a +club in which he was suspected, and by a consent on the part of the +meeting to receive the Major's instant resignation.</p> + + +<p><a name="c50" id="c50"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER L</h3> +<h3>The Duke's Arguments<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The Duke before he left Custins had an interview with Lady Cantrip, +at which that lady found herself called upon to speak her mind +freely. "I don't think she cares about Lord Popplecourt," Lady +Cantrip said.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know why she should," said the Duke, who was often +very aggravating even to his friend.</p> + +<p>"But as we had thought—"</p> + +<p>"She ought to do as she is told," said the Duke, remembering how +obedient his Glencora had been. "Has he spoken to her?"</p> + +<p>"I think not."</p> + +<p>"Then how can we tell?"</p> + +<p>"I asked her to see him, but she expressed so much dislike that I +could not press it. I am afraid, Duke, that you will find it +difficult to deal with her."</p> + +<p>"I have found it very difficult!"</p> + +<p>"As you have trusted me so much—"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I have trusted you, and do trust you. I hope you understand +that I appreciate your kindness."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps then you will let me say what I think."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Lady Cantrip."</p> + +<p>"Mary is a very peculiar girl,—with great gifts,—but—"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"She is obstinate. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that she has +great firmness of character. It is within your power to separate her +from Mr. Tregear. It would be foreign to her character to—to—leave +you, except with your approbation."</p> + +<p>"You mean, she will not run away."</p> + +<p>"She will do nothing without your permission. But she will remain +unmarried unless she be allowed to marry Mr. Tregear."</p> + +<p>"What do you advise then?"</p> + +<p>"That you should yield. As regards money, you could give them what +they want. Let him go into public life. You could manage that for +him."</p> + +<p>"He is Conservative!"</p> + +<p>"What does that matter when the question is one of your daughter's +happiness? Everybody tells me that he is clever and well conducted."</p> + +<p>He betrayed nothing by his face as this was said to him. But as he +got into the carriage he was a miserable man. It is very well to tell +a man that he should yield, but there is nothing so wretched to a man +as yielding. Young people and women have to yield,—but for such a +man as this, to yield is in itself a misery. In this matter the Duke +was quite certain of the propriety of his judgment. To yield would be +not only to mortify himself, but to do wrong at the same time. He had +convinced himself that the Popplecourt arrangement would come to +nothing. Nor had he and Lady Cantrip combined been able to exercise +over her the sort of power to which Lady Glencora had been subjected. +If he persevered,—and he still was sure, almost sure, that he would +persevere,—his object must be achieved after a different fashion. +There must be infinite suffering,—suffering both to him and to her. +Could she have been made to consent to marry someone else, terrible +as the rupture might have been, she would have reconciled herself at +last to her new life. So it had been with his Glencora, after a time. +Now the misery must go on from day to day beneath his eyes, with the +knowledge on his part that he was crushing all joy out of her young +life, and the conviction on her part that she was being treated with +continued cruelty by her father! It was a terrible prospect! But if +it was manifestly his duty to act after this fashion, must he not do +his duty?</p> + +<p>If he were to find that by persevering in this course he would doom +her to death, or perchance to madness,—what then? If it were right, +he must still do it. He must still do it, if the weakness incident to +his human nature did not rob him of the necessary firmness. If every +foolish girl were indulged, all restraint would be lost, and there +would be an end to those rules as to birth and position by which he +thought his world was kept straight. And then, mixed with all this, +was his feeling of the young man's arrogance in looking for such a +match. Here was a man without a shilling, whose manifest duty it was +to go to work so that he might earn his bread, who instead of doing +so, had hoped to raise himself to wealth and position by entrapping +the heart of an unwary girl! There was something to the Duke's +thinking base in this, and much more base because the unwary girl was +his own daughter. That such a man as Tregear should make an attack +upon him and select his rank, his wealth, and his child as the +stepping-stones by which he intended to rise! What could be so mean +as that a man should seek to live by looking out for a wife with +money? But what so impudent, so arrogant, so unblushingly +disregardful of propriety, as that he should endeavour to select his +victim from such a family as that of the Pallisers, and that he +should lay his impious hand on the very daughter of the Duke of +Omnium?</p> + +<p>But together with all this there came upon him moments of ineffable +tenderness. He felt as though he longed to take her in his arms and +tell her, that if she were unhappy, so would he be unhappy too,—to +make her understand that a hard necessity had made this sorrow common +to them both. He thought that, if she would only allow it, he could +speak of her love as a calamity which had befallen them, as from the +hand of fate, and not as a fault. If he could make a partnership in +misery with her, so that each might believe that each was acting for +the best, then he could endure all that might come. But, as he was +well aware, she regarded him as being simply cruel to her. She did +not understand that he was performing an imperative duty. She had set +her heart upon a certain object, and having taught herself that in +that way happiness might be reached, had no conception that there +should be something in the world, some idea of personal dignity, more +valuable to her than the fruition of her own desires! And yet every +word he spoke to her was affectionate. He knew that she was bruised, +and if it might be possible he would pour oil into her wounds,—even +though she would not recognise the hand which relieved her.</p> + +<p>They slept one night in town,—where they encountered Silverbridge +soon after his retreat from the Beargarden. "I cannot quite make up +my mind, sir, about that fellow Tifto," he said to his father.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have made up your mind that he is no fit companion for +yourself."</p> + +<p>"That's over. Everybody understands that, sir."</p> + +<p>"Is anything more necessary?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like feeling that he has been ill-used. They have made him +resign the club, and I fancy they won't have him at the hunt."</p> + +<p>"He has lost no money by you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no."</p> + +<p>"Then I think you may be indifferent. From all that I hear I think he +must have won money,—which will probably be a consolation to him."</p> + +<p>"I think they have been hard upon him," continued Silverbridge. "Of +course he is not a good man, nor a gentleman, nor possessed of very +high feelings. But a man is not to be sacrificed altogether for that. +There are so many men who are not gentlemen, and so many gentlemen +who are bad fellows."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt Mr. Lupton knew what he was about," replied the +Duke.</p> + +<p>On the next morning the Duke and Lady Mary went down to Matching, and +as they sat together in the carriage after leaving the railway the +father endeavoured to make himself pleasant to his daughter. "I +suppose we shall stay at Matching now till Christmas," he said.</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Whom would you like to have here?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want any one, papa."</p> + +<p>"You will be very sad without somebody. Would you like the Finns?"</p> + +<p>"If you please, papa. I like her. He never talks anything but +politics."</p> + +<p>"He is none the worse for that, Mary. I wonder whether Lady Mabel +Grex would come."</p> + +<p>"Lady Mabel Grex!"</p> + +<p>"Do you not like her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I like her;—but what made you think of her, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Silverbridge would come to us then."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary thought that she knew a great deal more about that than her +father did. "Is he fond of Lady Mabel, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—I don't know. There are secrets which should not be told. I +think they are very good friends. I would not have her asked unless +it would please you."</p> + +<p>"I like her very much, papa."</p> + +<p>"And perhaps we might get the Boncassens to come to us. I did say a +word to him about it." Now, as Mary felt, difficulty was heaping +itself upon difficulty. "I have seldom met a man in whose company I +could take more pleasure than in that of Mr. Boncassen; and the young +lady seems to be worthy of her father." Mary was silent, feeling the +complication of the difficulties. "Do you not like her?" asked the +Duke.</p> + +<p>"Very much indeed," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Then let us fix a day and ask them. If you will come to me after +dinner with an almanac we will arrange it. Of course you will invite +that Miss Cassewary too?"</p> + +<p>The complication seemed to be very bad indeed. In the first place was +it not clear that she, Lady Mary, ought not to be a party to asking +Miss Boncassen to meet her brother at Matching? Would it not be +imperative on her part to tell her father the whole story? And yet +how could she do that? It had been told her in confidence, and she +remembered what her own feelings had been when Mrs. Finn had +suggested the propriety of telling the story which had been told to +her! And how would it be possible to ask Lady Mabel to come to +Matching to meet Miss Boncassen in the presence of Silverbridge? If +the party could be made up without Silverbridge things might run +smoothly.</p> + +<p>As she was thinking of this in her own room, thinking also how happy +she could be if one other name might be added to the list of guests, +the Duke had gone alone into his library. There a pile of letters +reached him, among which he found one marked "Private," and addressed +in a hand which he did not recognise. This he opened suddenly,—with +a conviction that it would contain a thorn,—and, turning over the +page, found the signature to it was "Francis Tregear." The man's name +was wormwood to him. He at once felt that he would wish to have his +dinner, his fragment of a dinner, brought to him in that solitary +room, and that he might remain secluded for the rest of the evening. +But still he must read the letter;—and he read it.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Lord Duke</span>,</p> + +<p>If my mode of addressing your Grace be too familiar I hope +you will excuse it. It seems to me that if I were to use +one more distant, I should myself be detracting something +from my right to make the claim which I intend to put +forward. You know what my feelings are in reference to +your daughter. I do not pretend to suppose that they +should have the least weight with you. But you know also +what her feelings are for me. A man seems to be vain when +he expresses his conviction of a woman's love for himself. +But this matter is so important to her as well as to me +that I am compelled to lay aside all pretence. If she do +not love me as I love her, then the whole thing drops to +the ground. Then it will be for me to take myself off from +out of your notice,—and from hers, and to keep to myself +whatever heart-breaking I may have to undergo. But if she +be as steadfast in this matter as I am,—if her happiness +be fixed on marrying me as mine is on marrying her,—then, +I think, I am entitled to ask you whether you are +justified in keeping us apart.</p> + +<p>I know well what are the discrepancies. Speaking from my +own feeling I regard very little those of rank. I believe +myself to be as good a gentleman as though my father's +forefathers had sat for centuries past in the House of +Lords. I believe that you would have thought so also, had +you and I been brought in contact on any other subject. +The discrepancy in regard to money is, I own, a great +trouble to me. Having no wealth of my own I wish that your +daughter were so circumstanced that I could go out into +the world and earn bread for her. I know myself so well +that I dare say positively that her money,—if it be that +she will have money,—had no attractions for me when I +first became acquainted with her, and adds nothing now to +the persistency with which I claim her hand.</p> + +<p>But I venture to ask whether you can dare to keep us apart +if her happiness depends on her love for me? It is now +more than six months since I called upon you in London and +explained my wishes. You will understand me when I say +that I cannot be contented to sit idle, trusting simply to +the assurance which I have of her affection. Did I doubt +it, my way would be more clear. I should feel in that case +that she would yield to your wishes, and I should then, as +I have said before, just take myself out of the way. But +if it be not so, then I am bound to do something,—on her +behalf as well as my own. What am I to do? Any endeavour +to meet her clandestinely is against my instincts, and +would certainly be rejected by her. A secret +correspondence would be equally distasteful to both of us. +Whatever I do in this matter, I wish you to know that I do +it.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind4">Yours always,</span><br /> +<span class="ind6">Most faithfully, and with the greatest respect,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Francis +Tregear</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>He read the letter very carefully, and at first was simply astonished +by what he considered to be the unparalleled arrogance of the young +man. In regard to rank this young gentleman thought himself to be as +good as anybody else! In regard to money he did acknowledge some +inferiority. But that was a misfortune, and could not be helped! Not +only was the letter arrogant;—but the fact that he should dare to +write any letter on such a subject was proof of most unpardonable +arrogance. The Duke walked about the room thinking of it till he was +almost in a passion. Then he read the letter again and was gradually +pervaded by a feeling of its manliness. Its arrogance remained, but +with its arrogance there was a certain boldness which induced +respect. Whether I am such a son-in-law as you would like or not, it +is your duty to accept me, if by refusing to do so you will render +your daughter miserable. That was Mr. Tregear's argument. He himself +might be prepared to argue in answer that it was his duty to reject +such a son-in-law, even though by rejecting him he might make his +daughter miserable. He was not shaken; but with his condemnation of +the young man there was mingled something of respect.</p> + +<p>He continued to digest the letter before the hour of dinner, and when +the almanac was brought to him he fixed on certain days. The +Boncassens he knew would be free from engagements in ten days' time. +As to Lady Mabel, he seemed to think it almost certain that she would +come. "I believe she is always going about from one house to another +at this time of the year," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I think she will come to us if it be possible," said the Duke. "And +you must write to Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"And what about Mr. and Mrs. Finn?"</p> + +<p>"She promised she would come again, you know. They are at their own +place in Surrey. They will come unless they have friends with them. +They have no shooting, and nothing brings people together now except +shooting. I suppose there are things here to be shot. And be sure you +write to Silverbridge."</p> + + +<p><a name="c51" id="c51"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LI</h3> +<h3>The Duke's Guests<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"The Duke of Omnium presents his compliments to Mr. Francis Tregear, +and begs to acknowledge the receipt of Mr. Tregear's letter of +<span class="nowrap">––––.</span> +The Duke has no other communication to make to Mr. Tregear, and must +beg to decline any further correspondence." This was the reply which +the Duke wrote to the applicant for his daughter's hand. And he wrote +it at once. He had acknowledged to himself that Tregear had shown a +certain manliness in his appeal; but not on that account was such a +man to have all that he demanded! It seemed to the Duke that there +was no alternative between such a note as that given above and a +total surrender.</p> + +<p>But the post did not go out during the night, and the note lay hidden +in the Duke's private drawer till the morning. There was still that +"locus pœnitentiæ" which should be accorded to all letters +written in anger. During the day he thought over it all constantly, +not in any spirit of yielding, not descending a single step from that +altitude of conviction which made him feel that it might be his duty +absolutely to sacrifice his daughter,—but asking himself whether it +might not be well that he should explain the whole matter at length +to the young man. He thought he could put the matter strongly. It was +not by his own doing that he belonged to an aristocracy which, if all +exclusiveness were banished from it, must cease to exist. But being +what he was, having been born to such privileges and such +limitations, was he not bound in duty to maintain a certain +exclusiveness? He would appeal to the young man himself to say +whether marriage ought to be free between all classes of the +community. And if not between all, who was to maintain the limits but +they to whom authority in such matters is given? So much in regard to +rank! And then he would ask this young man whether he thought it +fitting that a young man whose duty, according to all known +principles, it must be to earn his bread, should avoid that manifest +duty by taking a wife who could maintain him. As he roamed about his +park alone he felt that he could write such a letter as would make an +impression even upon a lover. But when he had come back to his study, +other reflections came to his aid. Though he might write the most +appropriate letter in the world, would there not certainly be a +reply? As to conviction, had he ever known an instance of a man who +had been convinced by an adversary? Of course there would be a +reply,—and replies. And to such a correspondence there would be no +visible end. Words when once written remain, or may remain, in +testimony for ever. So at last when the moment came he sent off those +three lines, with his uncourteous compliments and his demand that +there should be no further correspondence.</p> + +<p>At dinner he endeavoured to make up for this harshness by increased +tenderness to his daughter, who was altogether ignorant of the +correspondence. "Have you written your letters, dear?" She said she +had written them.</p> + +<p>"I hope the people will come."</p> + +<p>"If it will make you comfortable, papa!"</p> + +<p>"It is for your sake I wish them to be here. I think that Lady Mabel +and Miss Boncassen are just such girls as you would like."</p> + +<p>"I do like them; only—"</p> + +<p>"Only what?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Boncassen is an American."</p> + +<p>"Is that an objection? According to my ideas it is desirable to +become acquainted with persons of various nations. I have heard, no +doubt, many stories of the awkward manners displayed by American +ladies. If you look for them you may probably find American women who +are not polished. I do not think I shall calumniate my own country if +I say the same of English women. It should be our object to select +for our own acquaintances the best we can find of all countries. It +seems to me that Miss Boncassen is a young lady with whom any other +young lady might be glad to form an acquaintance."</p> + +<p>This was a little sermon which Mary was quite contented to endure in +silence. She was, in truth, fond of the young American beauty, and +had felt a pleasure in the intimacy which the girl had proposed to +her. But she thought it inexpedient that Miss Boncassen, Lady Mabel, +and Silverbridge should be at Matching together. Therefore she made a +reply to her father's sermon which hardly seemed to go to the point +at issue. "She is so beautiful!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Very beautiful," said the Duke. "But what has that to do with it? My +girl need not be jealous of any girl's beauty." Mary laughed and +shook her head. "What is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Silverbridge might admire her."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt he would,—or does, for I am aware that they have +met. But why should he not admire her?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Lady Mary sheepishly.</p> + +<p>"I fancy that there is no danger in that direction. I think +Silverbridge understands what is expected from him." Had not +Silverbridge plainly shown that he understood what was expected from +him when he selected Lady Mabel? Nothing could have been more proper, +and the Duke had been altogether satisfied. That in such a matter +there should have been a change in so short a time did not occur to +him. Poor Mary was now completely silenced. She had been told that +Silverbridge understood what was expected from him; and of course +could not fail to carry home to herself an accusation that she failed +to understand what was expected from her.</p> + +<p>She had written her letters, but had not as yet sent them. Those to +Mrs. Finn and to the two young ladies had been easy enough. Could Mr. +and Mrs. Finn come to Matching on the 20th of November? "Papa says +that you promised to return, and thinks this time will perhaps suit +you." And then to Lady Mabel: "Do come if you can; and papa +particularly says that he hopes Miss Cassewary will come also." To +Miss Boncassen she had written a long letter, but that too had been +written very easily. "I write to you instead of your mamma, because I +know you. You must tell her that, and then she will not be angry. I +am only papa's messenger, and I am to say how much he hopes that you +will come on the 20th. Mr. Boncassen is to bring the whole British +Museum if he wishes." Then there was a little postscript which showed +that there was already considerable intimacy between the two young +ladies. "We won't have either Mr. L. or Lord P." Not a word was said +about Lord Silverbridge. There was not even an initial to indicate +his name.</p> + +<p>But the letter to her brother was more difficult. In her epistles to +those others she had so framed her words as if possible to bring them +to Matching. But in writing to her brother, she was anxious so to +write as to deter him from coming. She was bound to obey her father's +commands. He had desired that Silverbridge should be asked to +come,—and he was asked to come. But she craftily endeavoured so to +word the invitation that he should be induced to remain away. "It is +all papa's doing," she said; "and I am glad that he should like to +have people here. I have asked the Finns, with whom papa seems to +have made up everything. Mr. Warburton will be here of course, and I +think Mr. Moreton is coming. He seems to think that a certain amount +of shooting ought to be done. Then I have invited Lady Mabel Grex and +Miss Cassewary,—all of papa's choosing, and the Boncassens. Now you +will know whether the set will suit you. Papa has particularly begged +that you will come,—apparently because of Lady Mabel. I don't at all +know what that means. Perhaps you do. As I like Lady Mabel, I hope +she will come." Surely Silverbridge would not run himself into the +jaws of the lion. When he heard that he was specially expected by his +father to come to Matching in order that he might make himself +agreeable to one young lady, he would hardly venture to come, seeing +that he would be bound to make love to another young lady!</p> + +<p>To Mary's great horror, all the invitations were accepted. Mr. and +Mrs. Finn were quite at the Duke's disposal. That she had expected. +The Boncassens would all come. This was signified in a note from +Isabel, which covered four sides of the paper and was full of fun. +But under her signature had been written a few words,—not in +fun,—words which Lady Mary perfectly understood. "I wonder, I +wonder, I wonder!" Did the Duke when inviting her know anything of +his son's inclinations? Would he be made to know them now, during +this visit? And what would he say when he did know them?</p> + +<p>That the Boncassens would come was a matter of course; but Mary had +thought that Lady Mabel would refuse. She had told Lady Mabel that +the Boncassens had been asked, and to her thinking it had not been +improbable that the young lady would be unwilling to meet her rival +at Matching. But the invitation was accepted.</p> + +<p>But it was her brother's ready acquiescence which troubled Mary +chiefly. He wrote as though there were no doubt about the matter. "Of +course there is a deal of shooting to be done," he said, "and I +consider myself bound to look after it. There ought not to be less +than four guns,—particularly if Warburton is to be one of them. I +like Warburton very much, and I think he shoots badly to ingratiate +himself with the governor. I wonder whether the governor would get +leave for Gerald for a week. He has been sticking to his work like a +brick. If not, would he mind my bringing someone? You ask the +governor and let me know. I'll be there on the 20th. I wonder whether +they'll let me hear what goes on among them about politics. I'm sure +there is not one of them hates Sir Timothy worse than I do. Lady Mab +is a brick, and I'm glad you have asked her. I don't think she'll +come, as she likes shutting herself up at Grex. Miss Boncassen is +another brick. And if you can manage about Gerald I will say that you +are a third."</p> + +<p>This would have been all very well had she not known that secret. +Could it be that Miss Boncassen had been mistaken? She was forced to +write again to say that her father did not think it right that Gerald +should be brought away from his studies for the sake of shooting, and +that the necessary fourth gun would be there in the person of one +Barrington Erle. Then she added: "Lady Mabel Grex is coming, and so +is Miss Boncassen." But to this she received no reply.</p> + +<p>Though Silverbridge had written to his sister in his usual careless +style, he had considered the matter much. The three months were over. +He had no idea of any hesitation on his part. He had asked her to be +his wife, and he was determined to go on with his suit. Had he ever +been enabled to make the same request to Mabel Grex, or had she +answered him when he did half make it in a serious manner, he would +have been true to her. He had not told his father, or his sister, or +his friends, as Isabel had suggested. He would not do so till he +should have received some more certain answer from her. But in +respect to his love he was prepared to be quite as obstinate as his +sister. It was a matter for his own consideration, and he would +choose for himself. The three months were over, and it was now his +business to present himself to the lady again.</p> + +<p>That Lady Mabel should also be at Matching, would certainly be a +misfortune. He thought it probable that she, knowing that Isabel +Boncassen and he would be there together, would refuse the +invitation. Surely she ought to do so. That was his opinion when he +wrote to his sister. When he heard afterwards that she intended to be +there, he could only suppose that she was prepared to accept the +circumstances as they stood.</p> + + +<p><a name="c52" id="c52"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LII</h3> +<h3>Miss Boncassen Tells the Truth<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the 20th of the month all the guests came rattling in at Matching +one after another. The Boncassens were the first, but Lady Mabel with +Miss Cassewary followed them quickly. Then came the Finns, and with +them Barrington Erle. Lord Silverbridge was the last. He arrived by a +train which reached the station at 7 <span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span>, +and only entered the house +as his father was taking Mrs. Boncassen into the dining-room. He +dressed himself in ten minutes, and joined the party as they had +finished their fish. "I am awfully sorry," he said, rushing up to his +father, "but I thought that I should just hit it."</p> + +<p>"There is no occasion for awe," said the Duke, "as a sufficiency of +dinner is left. But how you should have hit it, as you say,—seeing +that the train is not due at Bridstock till 7.05, I do not know."</p> + +<p>"I've done it often, sir," said Silverbridge, taking the seat left +vacant for him next to Lady Mabel. "We've had a political caucus of +the party,—all the members who could be got together in London,—at +Sir Timothy's, and I was bound to attend."</p> + +<p>"We've all heard of that," said Phineas Finn.</p> + +<p>"And we pretty well know all the points of Sir Timothy's eloquence," +said Barrington Erle.</p> + +<p>"I am not going to tell any of the secrets. I have no doubt that +there were reporters present, and you will see the whole of it in the +papers to-morrow." Then Silverbridge turned to his neighbour. "Well, +Lady Mab, and how are you this long time?"</p> + +<p>"But how are you? Think what you have gone through since we were at +Killancodlem!"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is not to be talked of."</p> + +<p>"Though upon the whole it has happened very luckily. I have got rid +of the accursed horses, and my governor has shown what a brick he can +be. I don't think there is another man in England who would have done +as he did."</p> + +<p>"There are not many who could."</p> + +<p>"There are fewer who would. When they came into my bedroom that +morning and told me that the horse could not run, I thought I should +have broken my heart. Seventy thousand pounds gone!"</p> + +<p>"Seventy thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>"And the honour and glory of winning the race! And then the feeling +that one had been so awfully swindled! Of course I had to look as +though I did not care a straw about it, and to go and see the race, +with a jaunty air and a cigar in my mouth. That is what I call hard +work."</p> + +<p>"But you did it!"</p> + +<p>"I tried. I wish I could explain to you my state of mind that day. In +the first place the money had to be got. Though it was to go into the +hands of swindlers, still it had to be paid. I don't know how your +father and Percival get on together;—but I felt very like the +prodigal son."</p> + +<p>"It is very different with papa."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. I felt very like hanging myself when I was alone that +evening. And now everything is right again."</p> + +<p>"I am glad that everything is right," she said, with a strong +emphasis on the "everything."</p> + +<p>"I have done with racing, at any rate. The feeling of being in the +power of a lot of low blackguards is so terrible! I did love the poor +brute so dearly. And now what have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Just nothing;—and have seen nobody. I went back to Grex after +leaving Killancodlem, and shut myself up in my misery."</p> + +<p>"Why misery?"</p> + +<p>"Why misery! What a question for you to ask! Though I love Grex, I am +not altogether fond of living alone; and though Grex has its charms, +they are of a melancholy kind. And when I think of the state of our +family affairs, that is not reassuring. Your father has just paid +seventy thousand pounds for you. My father has been good enough to +take something less than a quarter of that sum from me;—but still it +was all that I was ever to have."</p> + +<p>"Girls don't want money."</p> + +<p>"Don't they? When I look forward it seems to me that a time will come +when I shall want it very much."</p> + +<p>"You will marry," he said. She turned round for a moment and looked +at him, full in the face, after such a fashion that he did not dare +to promise her further comfort in that direction. "Things always do +come right, somehow."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope so. Only nothing has ever come right with me yet. What +is Frank doing?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen him since he left Crummie-Toddie."</p> + +<p>"And your sister?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it at all."</p> + +<p>"And you? I have told you everything about myself."</p> + +<p>"As for me, I think of nothing but politics now. I have told you +about my racing experiences. Just at present shooting is up. Before +Christmas I shall go into Chiltern's country for a little hunting."</p> + +<p>"You can hunt here?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't stay long enough to make it worth while to have my horses +down. If Tregear will go with me to the Brake, I can mount him for a +day or two. But I dare say you know more of his plans than I do. He +went to see you at Grex."</p> + +<p>"And you did not."</p> + +<p>"I was not asked."</p> + +<p>"Nor was he."</p> + +<p>"Then all I can say is," replied Silverbridge, speaking in a low +voice, but with considerable energy, "that he can use a freedom with +Lady Mabel Grex upon which I cannot venture."</p> + +<p>"I believe you begrudge me his friendship. If you had no one else +belonging to you with whom you could have any sympathy, would not you +find comfort in a relation who could be almost as near to you as a +brother?"</p> + +<p>"I do not grudge him to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you do. And what business have you to interfere?"</p> + +<p>"None at all;—certainly. I will never do it again."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Lord Silverbridge. You ought to have more mercy on +me. You ought to put up with anything from me,—knowing how much I +suffer."</p> + +<p>"I will put up with anything," said he.</p> + +<p>"Do, do. And now I will try to talk to Mr. Erle."</p> + +<p>Miss Boncassen was sitting on the other side of the table, between +Mr. Monk and Phineas Finn, and throughout the dinner talked mock +politics with the greatest liveliness. Silverbridge when he entered +the room had gone round the table and had shaken hands with everyone. +But there had been no other greeting between him and Isabel, nor had +any sign passed from one to the other. No such greeting or sign had +been possible. Nothing had been left undone which she had expected, +or hoped. But, though she was lively, nevertheless she kept her eye +upon her lover and Lady Mabel. Lady Mary had said that she thought +her brother was in love with Lady Mabel. Could it be possible? In her +own land she had heard absurd stories,—stories which seemed to her +to be absurd,—of the treachery of lords and countesses, of the +baseness of aristocrats, of the iniquities of high life in London. +But her father had told her that, go where she might, she would find +people in the main to be very like each other. It had seemed to her +that nothing could be more ingenuous than this young man had been in +the declaration of his love. No simplest republican could have spoken +more plainly. But now, at this moment, she could not doubt but that +her lover was very intimate with this other girl. Of course he was +free. When she had refused to say a word to him of her own love or +want of love, she had necessarily left him his liberty. When she had +put him off for three months, of course he was to be his own master. +But what must she think of him if it were so? And how could he have +the courage to face her in his father's house if he intended to treat +her in such a fashion? But of all this she showed nothing, nor was +there a tone in her voice which betrayed her. She said her last word +to Mr. Monk with so sweet a smile that that old bachelor wished he +were younger for her sake.</p> + +<p>In the evening after dinner there was music. It was discovered that +Miss Boncassen sang divinely, and both Lady Mabel and Lady Mary +accompanied her. Mr. Erle, and Mr. Warburton, and Mr. Monk, all of +whom were unmarried, stood by enraptured. But Lord Silverbridge kept +himself apart, and interested himself in a description which Mrs. +Boncassen gave him of their young men and their young ladies in the +States. He had hardly spoken to Miss Boncassen,—till he offered her +sherry or soda-water before she retired for the night. She refused +his courtesy with her usual smile, but showed no more emotion than +though they two had now met for the first time in their lives.</p> + +<p>He had quite made up his mind as to what he would do. When the +opportunity should come in his way he would simply remind her that +the three months were passed. But he was shy of talking to her in the +presence of Lady Mabel and his father. He was quite determined that +the thing should be done at once, but he certainly wished that Lady +Mabel had not been there. In what she had said to him at the +dinner-table she had made him understand that she would be a trouble +to him. He remembered her look when he told her she would marry. It +was as though she had declared to him that it was he who ought to be +her husband. It referred back to that proffer of love which he had +once made to her. Of course all this was disagreeable. Of course it +made things difficult for him. But not the less was it a thing quite +assured that he would press his suit to Miss Boncassen. When he was +talking to Mrs. Boncassen he was thinking of nothing else. When he +was offering Isabel the glass of sherry he was telling himself that +he would find his opportunity on the morrow,—though now, at that +moment, it was impossible that he should make a sign. She, as she +went to bed, asked herself whether it were possible that there should +be such treachery;—whether it were possible that he should pass it +all by as though he had never said a word to her!</p> + +<p>During the whole of the next day, which was Sunday, he was equally +silent. Immediately after breakfast, on the Monday, shooting +commenced, and he could not find a moment in which to speak. It +seemed to him that she purposely kept out of his way. With Mabel he +did find himself for a few minutes alone, and was then interrupted by +his sister and Isabel. "I hope you have killed a lot of things," said +Miss Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well, among us all."</p> + +<p>"What an odd amusement it seems, going out to commit wholesale +slaughter. However it is the proper thing, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"Quite the proper thing," said Lord Silverbridge, and that was all.</p> + +<p>On the next morning he dressed himself for shooting,—and then sent +out the party without him. He had heard, he said, of a young horse +for sale in the neighbourhood, and had sent to desire that it might +be brought to him. And now he found his occasion.</p> + +<p>"Come and play a game of billiards," he said to Isabel, as the three +girls with the other ladies were together in the drawing-room. She +got up very slowly from her seat, and very slowly crept away to the +door. Then she looked round as though expecting the others to follow +her. None of them did follow her. Mary felt that she ought to do so; +but, knowing all that she knew, did not dare. And what good could she +have done by one such interruption? Lady Mabel would fain have gone +too;—but neither did she quite dare. Had there been no special +reason why she should or should not have gone with them, the thing +would have been easy enough. When two people go to play billiards, a +third may surely accompany them. But now, Lady Mabel found that she +could not stir. Mrs. Finn, Mrs. Boncassen, and Miss Cassewary were +all in the room, but none of them moved. Silverbridge led the way +quickly across the hall, and Isabel Boncassen followed him very +slowly. When she entered the room she found him standing with a cue +in his hand. He at once shut the door, and walking up to her dropped +the butt of the cue on the floor and spoke one word. "Well!" he said.</p> + +<p>"What does 'well' mean?"</p> + +<p>"The three months are over."</p> + +<p>"Certainly they are 'over.'"</p> + +<p>"And I have been a model of patience."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your patience is more remarkable than your constancy. Is not +Lady Mabel Grex in the ascendant just now?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that? Why do you ask that? You told me to wait +for three months. I have waited, and here I am."</p> + +<p>"How very—very—downright you are."</p> + +<p>"Is not that the proper thing?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I was downright,—but you beat me hollow. Yes, the three +months are over. And now what have you got to say?" He put down his +cue, and stretched out his arms as though he were going to take her +and hold her to his heart. "No;—no; not that," she said laughing. +"But if you will speak, I will hear you."</p> + +<p>"You know what I said before. Will you love me, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"And you know what I said before. Do they know that you love me? Does +your father know it, and your sister? Why did they ask me to come +here?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows it. But say that you love me, and everyone shall know +it at once. Yes; one person knows it. Why did you mention Lady +Mabel's name? She knows it."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I went again to Killancodlem after you were gone, and then I +told her."</p> + +<p>"But why her? Come, Lord Silverbridge. You are straightforward with +me, and I will be the same with you. You have told Lady Mabel; I have +told Lady Mary."</p> + +<p>"My sister!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—your sister. And I am sure she disapproves it. She did not say +so; but I am sure it is so. And then she told me something."</p> + +<p>"What did she tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Has there never been reason to think that you intended to offer your +hand to Lady Mabel Grex?"</p> + +<p>"Did she tell you so?"</p> + +<p>"You should answer my question, Lord Silverbridge. It is surely one +which I have a right to ask." Then she stood waiting for his reply, +keeping herself at some little distance from him as though she were +afraid that he would fly upon her. And indeed there seemed to be +cause for such fear from the frequent gestures of his hands. "Why do +you not answer me? Has there been reason for such expectations?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—there has."</p> + +<p>"There has!"</p> + +<p>"I thought of it,—not knowing myself; before I had seen you. You +shall know it all if you will only say that you love me."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know it all first."</p> + +<p>"You do know it all;—almost. I have told you that she knows what I +said to you at Killancodlem. Is not that enough?"</p> + +<p>"And she approves!"</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it? Lady Mabel is my friend, but not my +guardian."</p> + +<p>"Has she a right to expect that she should be your wife?"</p> + +<p>"No;—certainly not. Why should you ask all this? Do you love me? +Come, Isabel; say that you love me. Will you call me vain if I say +that I almost think you do? You cannot doubt about my love;—not +now."</p> + +<p>"No;—not now."</p> + +<p>"You needn't. Why won't you be as honest to me? If you hate me, say +so;—but if you love <span class="nowrap">me—!"</span></p> + +<p>"I do not hate you, Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"And is that all?"</p> + +<p>"You asked me the question."</p> + +<p>"But you do love me? By George, I thought you would be more honest +and straightforward."</p> + +<p>Then she dropped her badinage and answered him seriously. "I thought +I had been honest and straightforward. When I found that you were in +earnest at <span class="nowrap">Killancodlem—"</span></p> + +<p>"Why did you ever doubt me?"</p> + +<p>"When I felt that you were in earnest, then I had to be in earnest +too. And I thought so much about it that I lay awake nearly all that +night. Shall I tell you what I thought?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me something that I should like to hear."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you the truth. 'Is it possible,' I said to myself, 'that +such a man as that can want me to be his wife; he an Englishman, of +the highest rank and the greatest wealth, and one that any girl in +the world would love?'"</p> + +<p>"Psha!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"That is what I said to myself." Then she paused, and looking into +her face he saw that there was a glimmer of a tear in each eye. "One +that any girl must love when asked for her love;—because he is so +sweet, so good, and so pleasant."</p> + +<p>"I know that you are chaffing."</p> + +<p>"Then I went on asking myself questions. And is it possible that I, +who by all his friends will be regarded as a nobody, who am an +American,—with merely human workaday blood in my veins,—that such a +one as I should become his wife? Then I told myself that it was not +possible. It was not in accordance with the fitness of things. All +the dukes in England would rise up against it, and especially that +duke whose good-will would be imperative."</p> + +<p>"Why should he rise up against it?"</p> + +<p>"You know he will. But I will go on with my story of myself. When I +had settled that in my mind, I just cried myself to sleep. It had +been a dream. I had come across one who in his own self seemed to +combine all that I had ever thought of as being lovable in a +<span class="nowrap">man—"</span></p> + +<p>"Isabel!"</p> + +<p>"And in his outward circumstances soared as much above my thoughts as +the heaven is above the earth. And he had whispered to me soft, +loving, heavenly words. No;—no, you shall not touch me. But you +shall listen to me. In my sleep I could be happy again and not see +the barriers. But when I woke I made up my mind. 'If he comes to me +again,' I said—'if it should be that he should come to me again, I +will tell him that he shall be my heaven on earth,—if,—if,—if the +ill-will of his friends would not make that heaven a hell to both of +us.' I did not tell you quite all that."</p> + +<p>"You told me nothing but that I was to come again in three months."</p> + +<p>"I said more than that. I bade you ask your father. Now you have come +again. You cannot understand a girl's fears and doubts. How should +you? I thought perhaps you would not come. When I saw you whispering +to that highly-born well-bred beauty, and remembered what I was +myself, I thought that—you would not come."</p> + +<p>"Then you must love me."</p> + +<p>"Love you! Oh, my darling!—No, no, no," she said, as she retreated +from him round the corner of the billiard-table, and stood guarding +herself from him with her little hands. "You ask if I love you. You +are entitled to know the truth. From the sole of your foot to the +crown of your head I love you as I think a man would wish to be loved +by the girl he loves. You have come across my life, and have +swallowed me up, and made me all your own. But I will not marry you +to be rejected by your people. No; nor shall there be a kiss between +us till I know that it will not be so."</p> + +<p>"May I speak to your father?"</p> + +<p>"For what good? I have not spoken to father or mother because I have +known that it must depend upon your father. Lord Silverbridge, if he +will tell me that I shall be his daughter, I will become your +wife,—oh, with such perfect joy, with such perfect truth! If it can +never be so, then let us be torn apart,—with whatever struggle, +still at once. In that case I will get myself back to my own country +as best I may, and will pray to God that all this may be forgotten." +Then she made her way round to the door, leaving him fixed to the +spot in which she had been standing. But as she went she made a +little prayer to him. "Do not delay my fate. It is all in all to me." +And so he was left alone in the billiard-room.</p> + + +<p><a name="c53" id="c53"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIII</h3> +<h3>"Then I Am As Proud As a Queen"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>During the next day or two the shooting went on without much +interruption from love-making. The love-making was not prosperous all +round. Poor Lady Mary had nothing to comfort her. Could she have been +allowed to see the letter which her lover had written to her father, +the comfort would have been, if not ample, still very great. Mary +told herself again and again that she was quite sure of Tregear;—but +it was hard upon her that she could not be made certain that her +certainty was well grounded. Had she known that Tregear had written, +though she had not seen a word of his letter, it would have comforted +her. But she had heard nothing of the letter. In June last she had +seen him, by chance, for a few minutes, in Lady Mabel's drawing-room. +Since that she had not heard from him or of him. That was now more +than five months since. How could her love serve her,—how could her +very life serve her, if things were to go on like that? How was she +to bear it? Thinking of this she resolved—she almost resolved—that +she would go boldly to her father and desire that she might be given +up to her lover.</p> + +<p>Her brother, though more triumphant,—for how could he fail to +triumph after such words as Isabel had spoken to him?—still felt his +difficulties very seriously. She had imbued him with a strong sense +of her own firmness, and she had declared that she would go away and +leave him altogether if the Duke should be unwilling to receive her. +He knew that the Duke would be unwilling. The Duke, who certainly was +not handy in those duties of match-making which seemed to have fallen +upon him at the death of his wife, showed by a hundred little signs +his anxiety that his son and heir should arrange his affairs with +Lady Mabel. These signs were manifest to Mary,—were disagreeably +manifest to Silverbridge,—were unfortunately manifest to Lady Mabel +herself. They were manifest to Mrs. Finn, who was clever enough to +perceive that the inclinations of the young heir were turned in +another direction. And gradually they became manifest to Isabel +Boncassen. The host himself, as host, was courteous to all his +guests. They had been of his own selection, and he did his best to +make himself pleasant to them all. But he selected two for his +peculiar notice,—and those two were Miss Boncassen and Lady Mabel. +While he would himself walk, and talk, and argue after his own +peculiar fashion with the American beauty,—explaining to her matters +political and social, till he persuaded her to promise to read his +pamphlet upon decimal coinage,—he was always making awkward efforts +to throw Silverbridge and Lady Mabel together. The two girls saw it +all and knew well how the matter was,—knew that they were rivals, +and knew each the ground on which she herself and on which the other +stood. But neither was satisfied with her advantage, or nearly +satisfied. Isabel would not take the prize without the Duke's +consent;—and Mabel could not have it without that other consent. "If +you want to marry an English Duke," she once said to Isabel in that +anger which she was unable to restrain, "there is the Duke himself. I +never saw a man more absolutely in love." "But I do not want to marry +an English Duke," said Isabel, "and I pity any girl who has any idea +of marriage except that which comes from a wish to give back love for +love."</p> + +<p>Through it all the father never suspected the real state of his son's +mind. He was too simple to think it possible that the purpose which +Silverbridge had declared to him as they walked together from the +Beargarden had already been thrown to the winds. He did not like to +ask why the thing was not settled. Young men, he thought, were +sometimes shy, and young ladies not always ready to give immediate +encouragement. But, when he saw them together, he concluded that +matters were going in the right direction. It was, however, an +opinion which he had all to himself.</p> + +<p>During the three or four days which followed the scene in the +billiard-room Isabel kept herself out of her lover's way. She had +explained to him that which she wished him to do, and she left him to +do it. Day by day she watched the circumstances of the life around +her, and knew that it had not been done. She was sure that it could +not have been done while the Duke was explaining to her the beauty of +quints, and expatiating on the horrors of twelve pennies, and twelve +inches, and twelve ounces,—variegated in some matters by sixteen and +fourteen! He could not know that she was ambitious of becoming his +daughter-in-law, while he was opening out to her the mysteries of the +House of Lords, and explaining how it came to pass that while he was +a member of one House of Parliament, his son should be sitting as a +member of another;—how it was that a nobleman could be a commoner, +and how a peer of one part of the Empire could sit as the +representative of a borough in another part. She was an apt scholar. +Had there been a question of any other young man marrying her, he +would probably have thought that no other young man could have done +better.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge was discontented with himself. The greatest misfortune +was that Lady Mabel should be there. While she was present to his +father's eyes he did not know how to declare his altered wishes. +Every now and then she would say to him some little word indicating +her feelings of the absurdity of his passion. "I declare I don't know +whether it is you or your father that Miss Boncassen most affects," +she said. But to this and to other similar speeches he would make no +answer. She had extracted his secret from him at Killancodlem, and +might use it against him if she pleased. In his present frame of mind +he was not disposed to joke with her upon the subject.</p> + +<p>On that second Sunday,—the Boncassens were to return to London on +the following Tuesday,—he found himself alone with Isabel's father. +The American had been brought out at his own request to see the +stables, and had been accompanied round the premises by Silverbridge +and by Mr. Warburton, by Isabel and by Lady Mary. As they got out +into the park the party were divided, and Silverbridge found himself +with Mr. Boncassen. Then it occurred to him that the proper thing for +a young man in love was to go, not to his own father, but to the +lady's father. Why should not he do as others always did? Isabel no +doubt had suggested a different course. But that which Isabel had +suggested was at the present moment impossible to him. Now, at this +instant, without a moment's forethought, he determined to tell his +story to Isabel's father,—as any other lover might tell it to any +other father.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to find ourselves alone, Mr. Boncassen," he said. Mr. +Boncassen bowed and showed himself prepared to listen. Though so many +at Matching had seen the whole play, Mr. Boncassen had seen nothing +of it.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you are aware of what I have got to say."</p> + +<p>"I cannot quite say that I am, my Lord. But whatever it is, I am sure +I shall be delighted to hear it."</p> + +<p>"I want to marry your daughter," said Silverbridge. Isabel had told +him that he was downright, and in such a matter he had hardly as yet +learned how to express himself with those paraphrases in which the +world delights. Mr. Boncassen stood stock still, and in the +excitement of the moment pulled off his hat. "The proper thing is to +ask your permission to go on with it."</p> + +<p>"You want to marry my daughter!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is what I have got to say."</p> + +<p>"Is she aware of your—intention?"</p> + +<p>"Quite aware. I believe I may say that if other things go straight, +she will consent."</p> + +<p>"And your father—the Duke?"</p> + +<p>"He knows nothing about it,—as yet."</p> + +<p>"Really this takes me quite by surprise. I am afraid you have not +given enough thought to the matter."</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking about it for the last three months," said Lord +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Marriage is a very serious thing."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is."</p> + +<p>"And men generally like to marry their equals."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. I don't think that counts for much. People +don't always know who are their equals."</p> + +<p>"That is quite true. If I were speaking to you or to your father +theoretically I should perhaps be unwilling to admit superiority on +your side because of your rank and wealth. I could make an argument +in favour of any equality with the best Briton that ever lived,—as +would become a true-born Republican."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I mean."</p> + +<p>"But when the question becomes one of practising,—a question for our +lives, for our happiness, for our own conduct, then, knowing what +must be the feelings of an aristocracy in such a country as this, I +am prepared to admit that your father would be as well justified in +objecting to a marriage between a child of his and a child of mine, +as I should be in objecting to one between my child and the son of +some mechanic in our native city."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be a gentleman," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"That is a word of which I don't quite know the meaning."</p> + +<p>"I do," said Silverbridge confidently.</p> + +<p>"But you could not define it. If a man be well educated, and can keep +a good house over his head, perhaps you may call him a gentleman. But +there are many such with whom your father would not wish to be so +closely connected as you propose."</p> + +<p>"But I may have your sanction?" Mr. Boncassen again took off his hat +and walked along thoughtfully. "I hope you don't object to me +personally."</p> + +<p>"My dear young lord, your father has gone out of his way to be civil +to me. Am I to return his courtesy by bringing a great trouble upon +him?"</p> + +<p>"He seems to be very fond of Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"Will he continue to be fond of her when he has heard this? What does +Isabel say?"</p> + +<p>"She says the same as you, of course."</p> + +<p>"Why of course;—except that it is evident to you as it is to me that +she could not with propriety say anything else."</p> + +<p>"I think she would,—would like it, you know."</p> + +<p>"She would like to be your wife!"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes. If it were all serene, I think she would consent."</p> + +<p>"I dare say she would consent,—if it were all serene. Why should she +not? Do not try her too hard, Lord Silverbridge. You say you love +her."</p> + +<p>"I do, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Then think of the position in which you are placing her. You are +struggling to win her heart." Silverbridge as he heard this assured +himself that there was no need for any further struggling in that +direction. "Perhaps you have won it. Yet she may feel that she cannot +become your wife. She may well say to herself that this which is +offered to her is so great, that she does not know how to refuse it; +and may yet have to say, at the same time, that she cannot accept it +without disgrace. You would not put one that you love into such a +position?"</p> + +<p>"As for disgrace,—that is nonsense. I beg your pardon, Mr. +Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"Would it be no disgrace that she should be known here, in England, +to be your wife, and that none of those of your rank,—of what would +then be her own rank,—should welcome her into her new world?"</p> + +<p>"That would be out of the question."</p> + +<p>"If your own father refused to welcome her, would not others follow +suit?"</p> + +<p>"You don't know my father."</p> + +<p>"You seem to know him well enough to fear that he would object."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that is true."</p> + +<p>"What more do I want to know?"</p> + +<p>"If she were once my wife he would not reject her. Of all human +beings he is in truth the kindest and most affectionate."</p> + +<p>"And therefore you would try him after this fashion? No, my Lord; I +cannot see my way through these difficulties. You can say what you +please to him as to your own wishes. But you must not tell him that +you have any sanction from me."</p> + +<p>That evening the story was told to Mrs. Boncassen, and the matter was +discussed among the family. Isabel in talking to them made no scruple +of declaring her own feelings; and though in speaking to Lord +Silverbridge she had spoken very much as her father had done +afterwards, yet in this family conclave she took her lover's part. +"That is all very well, father," she said; "I told him the same thing +myself. But if he is man enough to be firm I shall not throw him +over,—not for all the dukes in Europe. I shall not stay here to be +pointed at. I will go back home. If he follows me then I shall choose +to forget all about his rank. If he loves me well enough to show that +he is in earnest, I shall not disappoint him for the sake of pleasing +his father." To this neither Mr. nor Mrs. Boncassen was able to make +any efficient answer. Mrs. Boncassen, dear good woman, could see no +reason why two young people who loved each other should not be +married at once. Dukes and duchesses were nothing to her. If they +couldn't be happy in England, then let them come and live in New +York. She didn't understand that anybody could be too good for her +daughter. Was there not an idea that Mr. Boncassen would be the next +President? And was not the President of the United States as good as +the Queen of England?</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge, when he left Mr. Boncassen, wandered about the +park by himself. King Cophetua married the beggar's daughter. He was +sure of that. King Cophetua probably had not a father; and the +beggar, probably, was not high-minded. But the discrepancy in that +case was much greater. He intended to persevere, trusting much to a +belief that when once he was married his father would "come round." +His father always did come round. But the more he thought of it, the +more impossible it seemed to him that he should ask his father's +consent at the present moment. Lady Mabel's presence in the house was +an insuperable obstacle. He thought that he could do it if he and his +father were alone together, or comparatively alone. He must be +prepared for an opposition, at any rate of some days, which +opposition would make his father quite unable to entertain his guests +while it lasted.</p> + +<p>But as he could not declare his wishes to his father, and was thus +disobeying Isabel's behests, he must explain the difficulty to her. +He felt already that she would despise him for his cowardice,—that +she would not perceive the difficulties in his way, or understand +that he might injure his cause by precipitation. Then he considered +whether he might not possibly make some bargain with his father. How +would it be if he should consent to go back to the Liberal party on +being allowed to marry the girl he loved? As far as his political +feelings were concerned he did not think that he would much object to +make the change. There was only one thing certain,—that he must +explain his condition to Miss Boncassen before she went.</p> + +<p>He found no difficulty now in getting the opportunity. She was +equally anxious, and as well disposed to acknowledge her anxiety. +After what had passed between them she was not desirous of pretending +that the matter was one of small moment to herself. She had told him +that it was all the world to her, and had begged him to let her know +her fate as quickly as possible. On that last Monday morning they +were in the grounds together, and Lady Mabel, who was walking with +Mrs. Finn, saw them pass through a little gate which led from the +gardens into the Priory ruins. "It all means nothing," Mabel said +with a little laugh to her companion.</p> + +<p>"If so, I am sorry for the young lady," said Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think that one always has to be sorry for the young +ladies? Young ladies generally have a bad time of it. Did you ever +hear of a gentleman who had always to roll a stone to the top of a +hill, but it would always come back upon him?"</p> + +<p>"That gentleman I believe never succeeded," said Mrs. Finn. "The +young ladies I suppose do sometimes."</p> + +<p>In the meantime Isabel and Silverbridge were among the ruins +together. "This is where the old Pallisers used to be buried," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed. And married, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. They had a priest of their own, no doubt, which must +have been convenient. This block of a fellow without any legs left is +supposed to represent Sir Guy. He ran away with half-a-dozen +heiresses, they say. I wish things were as easily done now."</p> + +<p>"Nobody should have run away with me. I have no idea of going on such +a journey except on terms of equality,—just step and step alike." +Then she took hold of his arm and put out one foot. "Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>"I am very willing."</p> + +<p>"But are you ready,—for a straightforward walk off to church before +all the world? None of your private chaplains, such as Sir Guy had at +his command. Just the registrar, if there is nothing better,—so that +it be public, before all the world."</p> + +<p>"I wish we could start this instant."</p> + +<p>"But we can't,—can we?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear. So many things have to be settled."</p> + +<p>"And what have you settled on since you last spoke to me?"</p> + +<p>"I have told your father everything."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I know that. What good does that do? Father is not a Duke of +Omnium. No one supposed that he would object."</p> + +<p>"But he did," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—as I do,—for the same reason; because he would not have his +daughter creep in at a hole. But to your own father you have not +ventured to speak." Then he told his story, as best he knew how. It +was not that he feared his father, but that he felt that the present +moment was not fit. "He wishes you to marry that Lady Mabel Grex," +she said. He nodded his head. "And you will marry her?"</p> + +<p>"Never! I might have done so, had I not seen you. I should have done +so, if she had been willing. But now I never can,—never, never." Her +hand had dropped from his arm, but now she put it up again for a +moment, so that he might feel the pressure of her fingers. "Say that +you believe me."</p> + +<p>"I think I do."</p> + +<p>"You know I love you."</p> + +<p>"I think you do. I am sure I hope you do. If you don't, then I am—a +miserable wretch."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart I do."</p> + +<p>"Then I am as proud as a queen. You will tell him soon?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as you are gone. As soon as we are alone together. I +will;—and then I will follow you to London. Now shall we not say, +Good-bye?"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my own," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"You will let me have one kiss?"</p> + +<p>Her hand was in his, and she looked about as though to see that no +eyes were watching them. But then, as the thoughts came rushing to +her mind, she changed her purpose. "No," she said. "What is it but a +trifle! It is nothing in itself. But I have bound myself to myself by +certain promises, and you must not ask me to break them. You are as +sweet to me as I can be to you, but there shall be no kissing till I +know that I shall be your wife. Now take me back."</p> + + +<p><a name="c54" id="c54"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIV</h3> +<h3>"I Don't Think She Is a Snake"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the following day, Tuesday, the Boncassens went, and then there +were none of the guests left but Mrs. Finn and Lady Mabel Grex,—with +of course Miss Cassewary. The Duke had especially asked both Mrs. +Finn and Lady Mabel to remain, the former, through his anxiety to +show his repentance for the injustice he had formerly done her, and +the latter in the hope that something might be settled as soon as the +crowd of visitors should have gone. He had never spoken quite +distinctly to Mabel. He had felt that the manner in which he had +learned his son's purpose,—that which once had been his son's +purpose,—forbade him to do so. But he had so spoken as to make Lady +Mabel quite aware of his wish. He would not have told her how sure he +was that Silverbridge would keep no more racehorses, how he trusted +that Silverbridge had done with betting, how he believed that the +young member would take a real interest in the House of Commons, had +he not intended that she should take a special interest in the young +man. And then he had spoken about the house in London. It was to be +made over to Silverbridge as soon as Silverbridge should marry. And +there was Gatherum Castle. Gatherum was rather a trouble than +otherwise. He had ever felt it to be so, but had nevertheless always +kept it open perhaps for a month in the year. His uncle had always +resided there for a fortnight at Christmas. When Silverbridge was +married it would become the young man's duty to do something of the +same kind. Gatherum was the White Elephant of the family, and +Silverbridge must enter in upon his share of the trouble. He did not +know that in saying all this he was offering his son as a husband to +Lady Mabel, but she understood it as thoroughly as though he had +spoken the words.</p> + +<p>But she knew the son's mind also. He had indeed himself told her all +his mind. "Of course I love her best of all," he had said. When he +told her of it she had been so overcome that she had wept in her +despair;—had wept in his presence. She had declared to him her +secret,—that it had been her intention to become his wife, and then +he had rejected her! It had all been shame, and sorrow, and +disappointment to her. And she could not but remember that there had +been a moment when she might have secured him by a word. A look would +have done it; a touch of her finger on that morning. She had known +then that he had intended to be in earnest,—that he only waited for +encouragement. She had not given it because she had not wished to +grasp too eagerly at the prize,—and now the prize was gone! She had +said that she had spared him;—but then she could afford to joke, +thinking that he would surely come back to her.</p> + +<p>She had begun her world with so fatal a mistake! When she was quite +young, when she was little more than a child but still not a child, +she had given all her love to a man whom she soon found that it would +be impossible she should ever marry. He had offered to face the world +with her, promising to do the best to smooth the rough places, and to +soften the stones for her feet. But she, young as she was, had felt +that both he and she belonged to a class which could hardly endure +poverty with contentment. The grinding need for money, the absolute +necessity of luxurious living, had been pressed upon her from her +childhood. She had seen it and acknowledged it, and had told him, +with precocious wisdom, that that which he offered to do for her sake +would be a folly for them both. She had not stinted the assurance of +her love, but had told him that they must both turn aside and learn +to love elsewhere. He had done so, with too complete readiness! She +had dreamed of a second love, which should obliterate the +first,—which might still leave to her the memory of the romance of +her early passion. Then this boy had come in her way! With him all +her ambition might have been satisfied. She desired high rank and +great wealth. With him she might have had it all. And then, too, +though there would always be the memory of that early passion, yet +she could in another fashion love this youth. He was pleasant to her, +and gracious;—and she had told herself that if it should be so that +this great fortune might be hers, she would atone to him fully for +that past romance by the wife-like devotion of her life. The cup had +come within the reach of her fingers, but she had not grasped it. Her +happiness, her triumphs, her great success had been there, present to +her, and she had dallied with her fortune. There had been a day on +which he had been all but at her feet, and on the next he had been +prostrate at the feet of another. He had even dared to tell her +so,—saying of that American that "of course he loved her the best!"</p> + +<p>Over and over again since that, she had asked herself whether there +was no chance. Though he had loved that other one best she would take +him if it were possible. When the invitation came from the Duke she +would not lose a chance. She had told him that it was impossible that +he, the heir to the Duke of Omnium, should marry an American. All his +family, all his friends, all his world would be against him. And then +he was so young,—and, as she thought, so easily led. He was lovable +and prone to love;—but surely his love could not be very strong, or +he would not have changed so easily.</p> + +<p>She did not hesitate to own to herself that this American was very +lovely. She too, herself, was beautiful. She too had a reputation for +grace, loveliness, and feminine high-bred charm. She knew all that, +but she knew also that her attractions were not so bright as those of +her rival. She could not smile or laugh and throw sparks of +brilliance around her as did the American girl. Miss Boncassen could +be graceful as a nymph in doing the awkwardest thing! When she had +pretended to walk stiffly along, to some imaginary marriage ceremony, +with her foot stuck out before her, with her chin in the air, and one +arm akimbo, Silverbridge had been all afire with admiration. Lady +Mabel understood it all. The American girl must be taken away,—from +out of the reach of the young man's senses,—and then the struggle +must be made.</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel had not been long at Matching before she learned that she +had much in her favour. She perceived that the Duke himself had no +suspicion of what was going on, and that he was strongly disposed in +her favour. She unravelled it all in her own mind. There must have +been some agreement, between the father and the son, when the son had +all but made his offer to her. More than once she was half-minded to +speak openly to the Duke, to tell him all that Silverbridge had said +to her and all that he had not said, and to ask the father's help in +scheming against that rival. But she could not find the words with +which to begin. And then, might he not despise her, and, despising +her, reject her, were she to declare her desire to marry a man who +had given his heart to another woman? And so, when the Duke asked her +to remain after the departure of the other guests, she decided that +it would be best to bide her time. The Duke, as she assented, kissed +her hand, and she knew that this sign of grace was given to his +intended daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>In all this she half-confided her thoughts and her prospects to her +old friend, Miss Cassewary. "That girl has gone at last," she said to +Miss Cass.</p> + +<p>"I fear she has left her spells behind her, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Of course she has. The venom out of the snake's tooth will poison +all the blood; but still the poor bitten wretch does not always die."</p> + +<p>"I don't think she is a snake."</p> + +<p>"Don't be moral, Cass. She is a snake in my sense. She has got her +weapons, and of course it is natural enough that she should use them. +If I want to be Duchess of Omnium, why shouldn't she?"</p> + +<p>"I hate to hear you talk of yourself in that way."</p> + +<p>"Because you have enough of the old school about you to like +conventional falsehood. This young man did in fact ask me to be his +wife. Of course I meant to accept him,—but I didn't. Then comes this +convict's granddaughter."</p> + +<p>"Not a convict's!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. Had he been a convict it would have been all +the same. I take upon myself to say that, had the world been informed +that an alliance had been arranged between the eldest son of the Duke +of Omnium and the daughter of Earl Grex,—the world would have been +satisfied. Every unmarried daughter of every peer in England would +have envied me,—but it would have been comme il faut."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But what would be the feeling as to the convict's granddaughter?"</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose that I would approve it;—but it seems to me that +in these days young men do just what they please."</p> + +<p>"He shall do what he pleases, but he must be made to be pleased with +me." So much she said to Miss Cassewary; but she did not divulge any +plan. The Boncassens had just gone off to the station, and +Silverbridge was out shooting. If anything could be done here at +Matching, it must be done quickly, as Silverbridge would soon take +his departure. She did not know it, but, in truth, he was remaining +in order that he might, as he said, "have all this out with the +governor."</p> + +<p>She tried to realise for herself some plan, but when the evening came +nothing was fixed. For a quarter of an hour, just as the sun was +setting, the Duke joined her in the gardens,—and spoke to her more +plainly than he had ever spoken before. "Has Silverbridge come home?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have not seen him."</p> + +<p>"I hope you and Mary get on well together."</p> + +<p>"I think so, Duke. I am sure we should if we saw more of each other."</p> + +<p>"I sincerely hope you may. There is nothing I wish for Mary so much +as that she should have a sister. And there is no one whom I would be +so glad to hear her call by that name as yourself." How could he have +spoken plainer?</p> + +<p>The ladies were all together in the drawing-room when Silverbridge +came bursting in rather late. "Where's the governor?" he asked, +turning to his sister.</p> + +<p>"Dressing, I should think; but what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I want to see him. I must be off to Cornwall to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"To Cornwall!" said Miss Cassewary. "Why to Cornwall?" asked Lady +Mabel. But Mary, connecting Cornwall with Frank Tregear, held her +peace.</p> + +<p>"I can't explain it all now, but I must start very early to-morrow." +Then he went off to his father's study, and finding the Duke still +there explained the cause of his intended journey. The member for +Polpenno had died, and Frank Tregear had been invited to stand for +the borough. He had written to his friend to ask him to come and +assist in the struggle. "Years ago there used to be always a Tregear +in for Polpenno," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"But he is a younger son."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it," said Silverbridge, "but as he has +asked me to go I think I ought to do it." The Duke, who was by no +means the man to make light of the political obligations of +friendship, raised no objection.</p> + +<p>"I wish," said he, "that something could have been arranged between +you and Mabel before you went." The young man stood in the gloom of +the dark room aghast. This was certainly not the moment for +explaining everything to his father. "I have set my heart very much +upon it, and you ought to be gratified by knowing that I quite +approve your choice."</p> + +<p>All that had been years ago,—in last June;—before Mrs. Montacute +Jones's garden-party, before that day in the rain at Maidenhead, +before the brightness of Killancodlem, before the glories of Miss +Boncassen had been revealed to him. "There is no time for that kind +of thing now," he said weakly.</p> + +<p>"I thought that when you were here together—"</p> + +<p>"I must dress now, sir; but I will tell you all about it when I get +back from Cornwall. I will come back direct to Matching, and will +explain everything." So he escaped.</p> + +<p>It was clear to Lady Mabel that there was no opportunity now for any +scheme. Whatever might be possible must be postponed till after this +Cornish business had been completed. Perhaps it might be better so. +She had thought that she would appeal to himself, that she would tell +him of his father's wishes, of her love for him,—of the authority +which he had once given her for loving him,—and of the absolute +impossibility of his marriage with the American. She thought that she +could do it, if not efficiently at any rate effectively. But it could +not be done on the very day on which the American had gone.</p> + +<p>It came out in the course of the evening that he was going to assist +Frank Tregear in his canvass. The matter was not spoken of openly, as +Tregear's name could hardly be mentioned. But everybody knew it, and +it gave occasion to Mabel for a few words apart with Silverbridge. "I +am so glad you are going to him," she said in a little whisper.</p> + +<p>"Of course I go when he wishes me. I don't know that I can do him any +good."</p> + +<p>"The greatest good in the world. Your name will go so far! It will be +everything to him to be in Parliament. And when are we to meet +again?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I shall turn up somewhere," he replied as he gave her his hand to +wish her good-bye.</p> + +<p>On the following morning the Duke proposed to Lady Mabel that she +should stay at Matching for yet another fortnight,—or even for a +month if it might be possible. Lady Mabel, whose father was still +abroad, was not sorry to accept the invitation.</p> + + +<p><a name="c55" id="c55"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LV</h3> +<h3>Polpenno<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Polwenning, the seat of Mr. Tregear, Frank's father, was close to the +borough of Polpenno,—so close that the gates of the grounds opened +into the town. As Silverbridge had told his father, many of the +Tregear family had sat for the borough. Then there had come changes, +and strangers had made themselves welcome by their money. When the +vacancy now occurred a deputation waited upon Squire Tregear and +asked him to stand. The deputation would guarantee that the expense +should not exceed—a certain limited sum. Mr. Tregear for himself had +no such ambition. His eldest son was abroad and was not at all such a +man as one would choose to make into a Member of Parliament. After +much consideration in the family, Frank was invited to present +himself to the constituency. Frank's aspirations in regard to Lady +Mary Palliser were known at Polwenning, and it was thought that they +would have a better chance of success if he could write the letters +M.P. after his name. Frank acceded, and as he was starting wrote to +ask the assistance of his friend Lord Silverbridge. At that time +there were only nine days more before the election, and Mr. +Carbottle, the Liberal candidate, was already living in great style +at the Camborne Arms.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Tregear and an elder sister of Frank's, who quite +acknowledged herself to be an old maid, were very glad to welcome +Frank's friend. On the first morning of course they discussed the +candidates' prospects. "My best chance of success," said Frank, +"arises from the fact that Mr. Carbottle is fatter than the people +here seem to approve."</p> + +<p>"If his purse be fat," said old Mr. Tregear, "that will carry off any +personal defect." Lord Silverbridge asked whether the candidate was +not too fat to make speeches. Miss Tregear declared that he had made +three speeches daily for the last week, and that Mr. Williams the +rector, who had heard him, declared him to be a godless dissenter. +Mrs. Tregear thought that it would be much better that the place +should be disfranchised altogether than that such a horrid man should +be brought into the neighbourhood. "A godless dissenter!" she said, +holding up her hands in dismay. Frank thought that they had better +abstain from allusion to their opponent's religion. Then Mr. Tregear +made a little speech. "We used," he said, "to endeavour to get +someone to represent us in Parliament, who would agree with us on +vital subjects, such as the Church of England and the necessity of +religion. Now it seems to be considered ill-mannered to make any +allusion to such subjects!" From which it may be seen that this old +Tregear was very conservative indeed.</p> + +<p>When the old people were gone to bed the two young men discussed the +matter. "I hope you'll get in," said Silverbridge. "And if I can do +anything for you of course I will."</p> + +<p>"It is always good to have a real member along with one," said +Tregear.</p> + +<p>"But I begin to think I am a very shaky Conservative myself."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that."</p> + +<p>"Sir Timothy is such a beast," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Is that your notion of a political opinion? Are you to be this or +that in accordance with your own liking or disliking for some +particular man? One is supposed to have opinions of one's own."</p> + +<p>"Your father would be down on a man because he is a dissenter."</p> + +<p>"Of course my father is old-fashioned."</p> + +<p>"It does seem so hard to me," said Silverbridge, "to find any +difference between the two sets. You who are a true Conservative are +much more like to my father, who is a Liberal, than to your own, who +is on the same side as yourself."</p> + +<p>"It may be so, and still I may be a good Conservative."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me in the House to mean nothing more than choosing one +set of companions or choosing another. There are some awful cads who +sit along with Mr. Monk;—fellows that make you sick to hear them, +and whom I couldn't be civil to. But I don't think there is anybody I +hate so much as old Beeswax. He has a contemptuous way with his nose +which makes me long to pull it."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to go over in order that you may be justified in doing +so. I think I soar a little higher," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course. You're a clever fellow," said Silverbridge, not +without a touch of sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"A man may soar higher than that without being very clever. If the +party that calls itself Liberal were to have all its own way who is +there that doesn't believe that the church would go at once, then all +distinction between boroughs, the House of Lords immediately +afterwards, and after that the Crown?"</p> + +<p>"Those are not my governor's ideas."</p> + +<p>"Your governor couldn't help himself. A Liberal party, with +plenipotentiary power, must go on right away to the logical +conclusion of its arguments. It is only the conservative feeling of +the country which saves such men as your father from being carried +headlong to ruin by their own machinery. You have read Carlyle's +French Revolution."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have read that."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it so there? There were a lot of honest men who thought they +could do a deal of good by making everybody equal. A good many were +made equal by having their heads cut off. That's why I mean to be +member for Polpenno and to send Mr. Carbottle back to London. +Carbottle probably doesn't want to cut anybody's head off."</p> + +<p>"I dare say he's as conservative as anybody."</p> + +<p>"But he wants to be a member of Parliament; and, as he hasn't thought +much about anything, he is quite willing to lend a hand to communism, +radicalism, socialism, chopping people's heads off, or anything +else."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well," said Silverbridge, "but where should we have +been if there had been no Liberals? Robespierre and his pals cut off +a lot of heads, but Louis XIV and Louis XV locked up more in prison." +And so he had the last word in the argument.</p> + +<p>The whole of the next morning was spent in canvassing, and the whole +of the afternoon. In the evening there was a great meeting at the +Polwenning Assembly Room, which at the present moment was in the +hands of the Conservative party. Here Frank Tregear made an oration, +in which he declared his political convictions. The whole speech was +said at the time to be very good; but the portion of it which was +apparently esteemed the most, had direct reference to Mr. Carbottle. +Who was Mr. Carbottle? Why had he come to Polpenno? Who had sent for +him? Why Mr. Carbottle rather than anybody else? Did not the people +of Polpenno think that it might be as well to send Mr. Carbottle back +to the place from whence he had come? These questions, which seemed +to Silverbridge to be as easy as they were attractive, almost made +him desirous of making a speech himself.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Williams, the rector, followed, a gentleman who had many +staunch friends and many bitter enemies in the town. He addressed +himself chiefly to that bane of the whole country,—as he conceived +them,—the godless dissenters; and was felt by Tregear to be injuring +the cause by every word he spoke. It was necessary that Mr. Williams +should liberate his own mind, and therefore he persevered with the +godless dissenters at great length,—not explaining, however, how a +man who thought enough about his religion to be a dissenter could be +godless, or how a godless man should care enough about religion to be +a dissenter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams was heard with impatience, and then there was a clamour +for the young lord. He was the son of an ex-Prime Minister, and +therefore of course he could speak. He was himself a member of +Parliament, and therefore could speak. He had boldly severed himself +from the faulty political tenets of his family, and therefore on such +an occasion as this was peculiarly entitled to speak. When a man goes +electioneering, he must speak. At a dinner-table to refuse is +possible:—or in any assembly convened for a semi-private purpose, a +gentleman may declare that he is not prepared for the occasion. But +in such an emergency as this, a man,—and a member of +Parliament,—cannot plead that he is not prepared. A son of a former +Prime Minister who had already taken so strong a part in politics as +to have severed himself from his father, not prepared to address the +voters of a borough whom he had come to canvass! The plea was so +absurd, that he was thrust on to his feet before he knew what he was +about.</p> + +<p>It was in truth his first public speech. At Silverbridge he had +attempted to repeat a few words, and in his failure had been covered +by the Sprugeons and the Sprouts. But now he was on his legs in a +great room, in an unknown town, with all the aristocracy of the place +before him! His eyes at first swam a little, and there was a moment +in which he thought he would run away. But, on that morning, as he +was dressing, there had come to his mind the idea of the possibility +of such a moment as this, and a few words had occurred to him. "My +friend Frank Tregear," he began, rushing at once at his subject, "is +a very good fellow, and I hope you'll elect him." Then he paused, not +remembering what was to come next; but the sentiment which he had +uttered appeared to his auditors to be so good in itself and so +well-delivered, that they filled up a long pause with continued +clappings and exclamations. "Yes," continued the young member of +Parliament, encouraged by the kindness of the crowd, "I have known +Frank Tregear ever so long, and I don't think you could find a better +member of Parliament anywhere." There were many ladies present and +they thought that the Duke's son was just the person who ought to +come electioneering among them. His voice was much pleasanter to +their ears than that of old Mr. Williams. The women waved their +handkerchiefs and the men stamped their feet. Here was an orator come +among them! "You all know all about it just as well as I do," +continued the orator, "and I am sure you feel that he ought to be +member for Polpenno." There could be no doubt about that as far as +the opinion of the audience went. "There can't be a better fellow +than Frank Tregear, and I ask you all to give three cheers for the +new member." Ten times three cheers were given, and the Carbottleites +outside the door who had come to report what was going on at the +Tregear meeting were quite of opinion that this eldest son of the +former Prime Minister was a tower of strength. "I don't know anything +about Mr. Carbottle," continued Silverbridge, who was almost growing +to like the sound of his own voice. "Perhaps he's a good fellow too." +"No; no, no. A very bad fellow indeed," was heard from different +parts of the room. "I don't know anything about him. I wasn't at +school with Carbottle." This was taken as a stroke of the keenest +wit, and was received with infinite cheering. Silverbridge was in the +pride of his youth, and Carbottle was sixty at the least. Nothing +could have been funnier. "He seems to be a stout old party, but I +don't think he's the man for Polpenno. I think you'll return Frank +Tregear. I was at school with him;—and I tell you, that you can't +find a better fellow anywhere than Frank Tregear." Then he sat down, +and I am afraid he felt that he had made the speech of the evening. +"We are so much obliged to you, Lord Silverbridge," Miss Tregear said +as they were walking home together. "That's just the sort of thing +that the people like. So reassuring, you know. What Mr. Williams says +about the dissenters is of course true; but it isn't reassuring."</p> + +<p>"I hope I didn't make a fool of myself to-night," Silverbridge said +when he was alone with Tregear,—probably with some little pride in +his heart.</p> + +<p>"I ought to say that you did, seeing that you praised me so +violently. But, whatever it was, it was well taken. I don't know +whether they will elect me; but had you come down as a candidate, I +am quite sure they would have elected you." Silverbridge was hardly +satisfied with this. He wished to have been told that he had spoken +well. He did not, however, resent his friend's coldness. "Perhaps, +after all, I did make a fool of myself," he said to himself as he +went to bed.</p> + +<p>On the next day, after breakfast, it was found to be raining heavily. +Canvassing was of course the business of the hour, and canvassing is +a business which cannot be done indoors. It was soon decided that the +rain should go for nothing. Could an agreement have been come to with +the Carbottleites it might have been decided that both parties should +abstain, but as that was impossible the Tregear party could not +afford to lose the day. As Mr. Carbottle, by reason of his fatness +and natural slowness, would perhaps be specially averse to walking +about in the slush and mud, it might be that they would gain +something; so after breakfast they started with umbrellas,—Tregear, +Silverbridge, Mr. Newcomb the curate, Mr. Pinebott the conservative +attorney, with four or five followers who were armed with books and +pencils, and who ticked off on the list of the voters the names of +the friendly, the doubtful, and the inimical.</p> + +<p>Parliamentary canvassing is not a pleasant occupation. Perhaps +nothing more disagreeable, more squalid, more revolting to the +senses, more opposed to personal dignity, can be conceived. The same +words have to be repeated over and over again in the cottages, +hovels, and lodgings of poor men and women who only understand that +the time has come round in which they are to be flattered instead of +being the flatterers. "I think I am right in supposing that your +husband's principles are Conservative, Mrs. Bubbs." "I don't know +nothing about it. You'd better call again and see Bubbs hissel." +"Certainly I will do so. I shouldn't at all like to leave the borough +without seeing Mr. Bubbs. I hope we shall have your influence, Mrs. +Bubbs." "I don't know nothing about it. My folk at home allays vote +buff; and I think Bubbs ought to go buff too. Only mind this; Bubbs +don't never come home to his dinner. You must come arter six, and I +hope he's to have some'at for his trouble. He won't have my word to +vote unless he have some'at." Such is the conversation in which the +candidate takes a part, while his cortège at the door is criticising +his very imperfect mode of securing Mrs. Bubbs' good wishes. Then he +goes on to the next house, and the same thing with some variation is +endured again. Some guide, philosopher, and friend, who accompanies +him, and who is the chief of the cortège, has calculated on his +behalf that he ought to make twenty such visitations an hour, and to +call on two hundred constituents in the course of the day. As he is +always falling behind in his number, he is always being driven on by +his philosopher, till he comes to hate the poor creatures to whom he +is forced to address himself, with a most cordial hatred.</p> + +<p>It is a nuisance to which no man should subject himself in any +weather. But when it rains there is superadded a squalor and an ill +humour to all the party which makes it almost impossible for them not +to quarrel before the day is over. To talk politics to Mrs. Bubbs +under any circumstances is bad, but to do so with the conviction that +the moisture is penetrating from your greatcoat through your shirt to +your bones, and that while so employed you are breathing the steam +from those seven other wet men at the door, is abominable. To have to +go through this is enough to take away all the pride which a man +might otherwise take from becoming a member of Parliament. But to go +through it and then not to become a member is base indeed! To go +through it and to feel that you are probably paying at the rate of a +hundred pounds a day for the privilege is most disheartening. +Silverbridge, as he backed up Tregear in the uncomfortable work, +congratulated himself on the comfort of having a Mr. Sprugeon and a +Mr. Sprout who could manage his borough for him without a contest.</p> + +<p>They worked on that day all the morning till one, when they took +luncheon, all reeking with wet, at the King's Head,—so that a little +money might be legitimately spent in the cause. Then, at two, they +sallied out again, vainly endeavouring to make their twenty calls +within the hour. About four, when it was beginning to be dusk, they +were very tired, and Silverbridge had ventured to suggest that as +they were all wet through, and as there was to be another meeting in +the Assembly Room that night, and as nobody in that part of the town +seemed to be at home, they might perhaps be allowed to adjourn for +the present. He was thinking how nice it would be to have a glass of +hot brandy-and-water and then lounge till dinner-time. But the +philosophers received the proposition with stern disdain. Was his +Lordship aware that Mr. Carbottle had been out all day from eight in +the morning, and was still at work; that the Carbottleites had +already sent for lanterns and were determined to go on till eight +o'clock among the artisans who would then have returned from their +work? When a man had put his hand to the plough, the philosophers +thought that that man should complete the furrow!</p> + +<p>The philosophers' view had just carried the day, the discussion +having been held under seven or eight wet umbrellas at the corner of +a dirty little lane leading into the High Street; when suddenly, on +the other side of the way, Mr. Carbottle's cortège made its +appearance. The philosophers at once informed them that on such +occasions it was customary that the rival candidates should be +introduced. "It will take ten minutes," said the philosophers; "but +then it will take them ten minutes too." Upon this Tregear, as being +the younger of the two, crossed over the road, and the introduction +was made.</p> + +<p>There was something comfortable in it to the Tregear party, as no +imagination could conceive anything more wretched than the appearance +of Mr. Carbottle. He was a very stout man of sixty, and seemed to be +almost carried along by his companions. He had pulled his coat-collar +up and his hat down till very little of his face was visible, and in +attempting to look at Tregear and Silverbridge he had to lift up his +chin till the rain ran off his hat on to his nose. He had an umbrella +in one hand and a stick in the other, and was wet through to his very +skin. What were his own feelings cannot be told, but his +philosophers, guides, and friends would allow him no rest. "Very hard +work, Mr. Tregear," he said, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"Very hard indeed, Mr. Carbottle." Then the two parties went on, each +their own way, without another word.</p> + + +<p><a name="c56" id="c56"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVI</h3> +<h3>The News Is Sent to Matching<br /> </h3> + + +<p>There were nine days of this work, during which Lord Silverbridge +became very popular and made many speeches. Tregear did not win half +so many hearts, or recommend himself so thoroughly to the political +predilections of the borough;—but nevertheless he was returned. It +would probably be unjust to attribute this success chiefly to the +young Lord's eloquence. It certainly was not due to the strong +religious feelings of the rector. It is to be feared that even the +thoughtful political convictions of the candidate did not altogether +produce the result. It was that chief man among the candidate's +guides and friends, that leading philosopher who would not allow +anybody to go home from the rain, and who kept his eyes so sharply +open to the pecuniary doings of the Carbottleites, that Mr. +Carbottle's guides and friends had hardly dared to spend a +shilling;—it was he who had in truth been efficacious. In every +attempt they had made to spend their money they had been looked into +and circumvented. As Mr. Carbottle had been brought down to Polpenno +on purpose that he might spend money,—as he had nothing but his +money to recommend him, and as he had not spent it,—the free and +independent electors of the borough had not seen their way to vote +for him. Therefore the Conservatives were very elate with their +triumph. There was a great Conservative reaction. But the +electioneering guide, philosopher, and friend, in the humble +retirement of his own home,—he was a tailor in the town, whose +assistance at such periods had long been in requisition,—he knew +very well how the seat had been secured. Ten shillings a head would +have sent three hundred true Liberals to the ballot-boxes! The mode +of distributing the money had been arranged; but the Conservative +tailor had been too acute, and not half-a-sovereign could be passed. +The tailor got twenty-five pounds for his work, and that was smuggled +in among the bills for printing.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams, however, was sure that he had so opened out the +iniquities of the dissenters as to have convinced the borough. Yes; +every Salem and Zion and Ebenezer in his large parish would be +closed. "It is a great thing for the country," said Mr. Williams.</p> + +<p>"He'll make a capital member," said Silverbridge, clapping his friend +on the back.</p> + +<p>"I hope he'll never forget," said Mr. Williams, "that he owes his +seat to the Protestant and Church-of-England principles which have +sunk so deeply into the minds of the thoughtful portion of the +inhabitants of this borough."</p> + +<p>"Whom should they elect but a Tregear?" said the mother, feeling that +her rector took too much of the praise to himself.</p> + +<p>"I think you have done more for us than any one else," whispered Miss +Tregear to the young Lord. "What you said was so reassuring!" The +father before he went to bed expressed to his son, with some +trepidation, a hope that all this would lead to no great permanent +increase of expenditure.</p> + +<p>That evening before he went to bed Lord Silverbridge wrote to his +father an account of what had taken place at Polpenno.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Polwenning, 15th December.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Father</span>,</p> + +<p>Among us all we have managed to return Tregear. I am +afraid you will not be quite pleased because it will be a +vote lost to your party. But I really think that he is +just the fellow to be in Parliament. If he were on your +side I'm sure he's the kind of man you'd like to bring +into office. He is always thinking about those sort of +things. He says that, if there were no Conservatives, such +Liberals as you and Mr. Monk would be destroyed by the +Jacobins. There is something in that. Whether a man is a +Conservative or not himself, I suppose there ought to be +Conservatives.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">The Duke as he read this made a memorandum in his own mind that he +would explain to his son that every carriage should have a drag to +its wheels, but that an ambitious soul would choose to be the +coachman rather than the drag.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>It was beastly work!<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">The Duke made another memorandum to instruct his son that no +gentleman above the age of a schoolboy should allow himself to use +such a word in such a sense.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">We had to go about in the rain up to our knees in mud for +eight or nine days, always saying the same thing. And of +course all that we said was bosh.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Another memorandum—or rather two, one as to the slang, and another +as to the expediency of teaching something to the poor voters on such +occasions.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Our only comfort was that the Carbottle people were quite +as badly off as us.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Another memorandum as to the grammar. The absence of Christian +charity did not at the moment affect the Duke.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">I made ever so many speeches, till at last it seemed to be +quite easy.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Here there was a very grave memorandum. Speeches easy to young +speakers are generally very difficult to old listeners.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">But of course it was all bosh.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">This required no separate memorandum.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I have promised to go up to town with Tregear for a day or +two. After that I will stick to my purpose of going to +Matching again. I will be there about the 22nd, and will +then stay over Christmas. After that I am going into the +Brake country for some hunting. It is such a shame to have +a lot of horses and never to ride them!</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your most affectionate Son,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The last sentence gave rise in the Duke's mind to the necessity of a +very elaborate memorandum on the subject of amusements generally.</p> + +<p>By the same post another letter went from Polpenno to Matching which +also gave rise to some mental memoranda. It was as follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mabel</span>,</p> + +<p>I am a Member of the British House of Commons! I have +sometimes regarded myself as being one of the most +peculiarly unfortunate men in the world, and yet now I +have achieved that which all commoners in England think to +be the greatest honour within their reach, and have done +so at an age at which very few achieve it but the sons of +the wealthy and the powerful.</p> + +<p>I now come to my misfortunes. I know that as a poor man I +ought not to be a member of Parliament. I ought to be +earning my bread as a lawyer or a doctor. I have no +business to be what I am, and when I am forty I shall find +that I have eaten up all my good things instead of having +them to eat.</p> + +<p>I have one chance before me. You know very well what that +is. Tell her that my pride in being a member of Parliament +is much more on her behalf than on my own. The man who +dares to love her ought at any rate to be something in the +world. If it might be,—if ever it may be,—I should wish +to be something for her sake. I am sure you will be glad +of my success yourself, for my own sake.</p> + +<p class="ind6">Your affectionate Friend and Cousin,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Francis +Tregear</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The first mental memorandum in regard to this came from the writer's +assertion that he at forty would have eaten up all his good things. +No! He being a man might make his way to good things though he was +not born to them. He surely would win his good things for himself. +But what good things were in store for her? What chance of success +was there for her? But the reflection which was the most bitter to +her of all came from her assurance that his love for that other girl +was so genuine. Even when he was writing to her there was no spark +left of the old romance! Some hint of a recollection of past +feelings, some half-concealed reference to the former passion might +have been allowed to him! She as a woman,—as a woman all whose +fortune must depend on marriage,—could indulge in no such allusions; +but surely he need not have been so hard!</p> + +<p>But still there was another memorandum. At the present moment she +would do all that he desired as far as it was in her power. She was +anxious that he should marry Lady Mary Palliser, though so anxious +also that something of his love should remain with herself! She was +quite willing to convey that message,—if it might be done without +offence to the Duke. She was there with the object of ingratiating +herself with the Duke. She must not impede her favour with the Duke +by making herself the medium of any secret communications between +Mary and her lover.</p> + +<p>But how should she serve Tregear without risk of offending the Duke? +She read the letter again and again, and thinking it to be a good +letter she determined to show it to the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tregear has got in at Polpenno," she said on the day on which +she and the Duke had received their letters.</p> + +<p>"So I hear from Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"It will be a good thing for him, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said the Duke coldly.</p> + +<p>"He is my cousin, and I have always been interested in his welfare."</p> + +<p>"That is natural."</p> + +<p>"And a seat in Parliament will give him something to do."</p> + +<p>"Certainly it ought," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"I do not think that he is an idle man." To this the Duke made no +answer. He did not wish to be made to talk about Tregear. "May I tell +you why I say all this?" she asked softly, pressing her hand on the +Duke's arm ever so gently. To this the Duke assented, but still +coldly. "Because I want to know what I ought to do. Would you mind +reading that letter? Of course you will remember that Frank and I +have been brought up almost as brother and sister."</p> + +<p>The Duke took the letter in his hand and did read it, very slowly. +"What he says about young men without means going into Parliament is +true enough." This was not encouraging, but as the Duke went on +reading, Mabel did not think it necessary to argue the matter. He had +to read the last paragraph twice before he understood it. He did read +it twice, and then folding the letter very slowly gave it back to his +companion.</p> + +<p>"What ought I to do?" asked Lady Mabel.</p> + +<p>"As you and I, my dear, are friends, I think that any carrying of a +message to Mary would be breaking confidence. I think that you should +not speak to Mary about Mr. Tregear." Then he changed the subject. +Lady Mabel of course understood that after that she could not say a +word to Mary about the election at Polpenno.</p> + + +<p><a name="c57" id="c57"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVII</h3> +<h3>The Meeting at "The Bobtailed Fox"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was now the middle of December, and matters were not comfortable +in the Runnymede country. The Major with much pluck had carried on +his operations in opposition to the wishes of the resident members of +the hunt. The owners of coverts had protested, and farmers had sworn +that he should not ride over their lands. There had even been some +talk among the younger men of thrashing him if he persevered. But he +did persevere, and had managed to have one or two good runs. Now it +was the fortune of the Runnymede hunt that many of those who rode +with the hounds were strangers to the country,—men who came down by +train from London, gentlemen of perhaps no great distinction, who +could ride hard, but as to whom it was thought that as they did not +provide the land to ride over, or the fences to be destroyed, or the +coverts for the foxes, or the greater part of the subscription, they +ought not to oppose those by whom all these things were supplied. But +the Major, knowing where his strength lay, had managed to get a party +to support him. The contract to hunt the country had been made with +him in last March, and was good for one year. Having the kennels and +the hounds under his command he did hunt the country; but he did so +amidst a storm of contumely and ill will.</p> + +<p>At last it was decided that a general meeting of the members of the +hunt should be called together with the express object of getting rid +of the Major. The gentlemen of the neighbourhood felt that the Major +was not to be borne, and the farmers were very much stronger against +him than the gentlemen. It had now become a settled belief among +sporting men in England that the Major had with his own hands driven +the nail into the horse's foot. Was it to be endured that the +Runnymede farmers should ride to hounds under a Master who had been +guilty of such an iniquity as that? "The Staines and Egham Gazette," +which had always supported the Runnymede hunt, declared in very plain +terms that all who rode with the Major were enjoying their sport out +of the plunder which had been extracted from Lord Silverbridge. Then +a meeting was called for Saturday, the 18th December, to be held at +that well-known sporting little inn The Bobtailed Fox. The members of +the hunt were earnestly called upon to attend. It was,—so said the +printed document which was issued,—the only means by which the hunt +could be preserved. If gentlemen who were interested did not put +their shoulders to the wheel, the Runnymede hunt must be regarded as +a thing of the past. One of the documents was sent to the Major with +an intimation that if he wished to attend no objection would be made +to his presence. The chair would be taken at half-past twelve +punctually by that popular and well-known old sportsman Mr. Mahogany +Topps.</p> + +<p>Was ever the Master of a hunt treated in such a way! His presence not +objected to! As a rule the Master of a hunt does not attend hunt +meetings, because the matter to be discussed is generally that of the +money to be subscribed for him, as to which it is as well he should +not hear the pros and cons. But it is presumed that he is to be the +hero of the hour, and that he is to be treated to his face, and +spoken of behind his back, with love, admiration, and respect. But +now this Master was told his presence would be allowed! And then this +fox-hunting meeting was summoned for half-past twelve on a +hunting-day;—when, as all the world knew, the hounds were to meet at +eleven, twelve miles off! Was ever anything so base? said the Major +to himself. But he resolved that he would be equal to the occasion. +He immediately issued cards to all the members, stating that on that +day the meet had been changed from Croppingham Bushes, which was ever +so much on the other side of Bagshot, to The Bobtailed Fox,—for the +benefit of the hunt at large, said the card,—and that the hounds +would be there at half-past one.</p> + +<p>Whatever might happen, he must show a spirit. In all this there were +one or two of the London brigade who stood fast to him. "Cock your +tail, Tifto," said one hard-riding supporter, "and show 'em you +aren't afraid of nothing." So Tifto cocked his tail and went to the +meeting in his best new scarlet coat, with his whitest breeches, his +pinkest boots, and his neatest little bows at his knees. He entered +the room with his horn in his hand, as a symbol of authority, and +took off his hunting-cap to salute the assembly with a jaunty air. He +had taken two glasses of cherry brandy, and as long as the stimulant +lasted would no doubt be able to support himself with audacity.</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Topps, in rising from his chair, did not say very much. He +had been hunting in the Runnymede country for nearly fifty years, and +had never seen anything so sad as this before. It made him, he knew, +very unhappy. As for foxes, there were always plenty of foxes in his +coverts. His friend Mr. Jawstock, on the right, would explain what +all this was about. All he wanted was to see the Runnymede hunt +properly kept up. Then he sat down, and Mr. Jawstock rose to his +legs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jawstock was a gentleman well known in the Runnymede country, who +had himself been instrumental in bringing Major Tifto into these +parts. There is often someone in a hunting country who never becomes +a Master of hounds himself, but who has almost as much to say about +the business as the Master himself. Sometimes at hunt meetings he is +rather unpopular, as he is always inclined to talk. But there are +occasions on which his services are felt to be valuable,—as were Mr. +Jawstock's at present. He was about forty-five years of age, was not +much given to riding, owned no coverts himself, and was not a man of +wealth; but he understood the nature of hunting, knew all its laws, +and was a judge of horses, of hounds,—and of men; and could say a +thing when he had to say it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jawstock sat on the right hand of Mr. Topps, and a place was left +for the Master opposite. The task to be performed was neither easy +nor pleasant. It was necessary that the orator should accuse the +gentleman opposite to him,—a man with whom he himself had been very +intimate,—of iniquity so gross and so mean, that nothing worse can +be conceived. "You are a swindler, a cheat, a rascal of the very +deepest dye;—a rogue so mean that it is revolting to be in the same +room with you!" That was what Mr. Jawstock had to say. And he said +it. Looking round the room, occasionally appealing to Mr. Topps, who +on these occasions would lift up his hands in horror, but never +letting his eye fall for a moment on the Major, Mr. Jawstock told his +story. "I did not see it done," said he. "I know nothing about it. I +never was at Doncaster in my life. But you have evidence of what the +Jockey Club thinks. The Master of our Hunt has been banished from +racecourses." Here there was considerable opposition, and a few short +but excited little dialogues were maintained;—throughout all which +Tifto restrained himself like a Spartan. "At any rate he has been +thoroughly disgraced," continued Mr. Jawstock, "as a sporting man. He +has been driven out of the Beargarden Club." "He resigned in disgust +at their treatment," said a friend of the Major's. "Then let him +resign in disgust at ours," said Mr. Jawstock, "for we won't have him +here. Cæsar wouldn't keep a wife who was suspected of infidelity, nor +will the Runnymede country endure a Master of Hounds who is supposed +to have driven a nail into a horse's foot."</p> + +<p>Two or three other gentlemen had something to say before the Major +was allowed to speak,—the upshot of the discourse of all of them +being the same. The Major must go.</p> + +<p>Then the Major got up, and certainly as far as attention went he had +full justice done him. However clamorous they might intend to be +afterwards that amount of fair play they were all determined to +afford him. The Major was not excellent at speaking, but he did +perhaps better than might have been expected. "This is a very +disagreeable position," he said, "very disagreeable indeed. As for +the nail in the horse's foot I know no more about it than the babe +unborn. But I've got two things to say, and I'll say what aren't the +most consequence first. These hounds belong to me." Here he paused, +and a loud contradiction came from many parts of the room. Mr. +Jawstock, however, proposed that the Major should be heard to the +end. "I say they belong to me," repeated the Major. "If anybody tries +his hand at anything else the law will soon set that to rights. But +that aren't of much consequence. What I've got to say is this. Let +the matter be referred. If that 'orse had a nail run into his +foot,—and I don't say he hadn't,—who was the man most injured? Why, +Lord Silverbridge. Everybody knows that. I suppose he dropped well on +to eighty thousand pounds! I propose to leave it to him. Let him say. +He ought to know more about it than any one. He and I were partners +in the horse. His Lordship aren't very sweet upon me just at present. +Nobody need fear that he'll do me a good turn. I say leave it to +him."</p> + +<p>In this matter the Major had certainly been well advised. A rumour +had become prevalent among sporting circles that Silverbridge had +refused to condemn the Major. It was known that he had paid his bets +without delay, and that he had, to some extent, declined to take +advice from the leaders of the Jockey Club. The Major's friends were +informed that the young lord had refused to vote against him at the +club. Was it not more than probable that if this matter were referred +to him he would refuse to give a verdict against his late partner?</p> + +<p>The Major sat down, put on his cap, and folded his arms akimbo, with +his horn sticking out from his left hand. For a time there was +general silence, broken, however, by murmurs in different parts of +the room. Then Mr. Jawstock whispered something into the ear of the +Chairman, and Mr. Topps, rising from his seat, suggested to Tifto +that he should retire. "I think so," said Mr. Jawstock. "The +proposition you have made can be discussed only in your absence." +Then the Major held a consultation with one of his friends, and after +that did retire.</p> + +<p>When he was gone the real hubbub of the meeting commenced. There were +some there who understood the nature of Lord Silverbridge's feelings +in the matter. "He would be the last man in England to declare him +guilty," said Mr. Jawstock. "Whatever my lord says, he shan't ride +across my land," said a farmer in the background. "I don't think any +gentleman ever made a fairer proposition,—since anything was +anything," said a friend of the Major's, a gentleman who kept livery +stables in Long Acre. "We won't have him here," said another +farmer,—whereupon Mr. Topps shook his head sadly. "I don't think any +gentleman ought to be condemned without a 'earing," said one of +Tifto's admirers, "and where you're to get any one to hunt the +country like him, I don't know as any body is prepared to say." +"We'll manage that," said a young gentleman from the neighbourhood of +Bagshot, who thought that he could hunt the country himself quite as +well as Major Tifto. "He must go from here; that's the long and the +short of it," said Mr. Jawstock. "Put it to the vote, Mr. Jawstock," +said the livery-stable keeper. Mr. Topps, who had had great +experience in public meetings, hereupon expressed an opinion that +they might as well go to a vote. No doubt he was right if the matter +was one which must sooner or later be decided in that manner.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jawstock looked round the room trying to calculate what might be +the effect of a show of hands. The majority was with him; but he was +well aware that of this majority some few would be drawn away by the +apparent justice of Tifto's proposition. And what was the use of +voting? Let them vote as they might, it was out of the question that +Tifto should remain Master of the hunt. But the chairman had acceded, +and on such occasions it is difficult to go against the chairman.</p> + +<p>Then there came a show of hands,—first for those who desired to +refer the matter to Lord Silverbridge, and afterwards for Tifto's +direct enemies,—for those who were anxious to banish Tifto out of +hand, without reference to any one. At last the matter was settled. +To the great annoyance of Mr. Jawstock and the farmers, the meeting +voted that Lord Silverbridge should be invited to give his opinion as +to the innocence or guilt of his late partner.</p> + +<p>The Major's friends carried the discussion out to him as he sat on +horseback, as though he had altogether gained the battle and was +secure in his position as Master of the Runnymede Hunt for the next +dozen years. But at the same time there came a message from Mr. +Mahogany Topps. It was now half-past two, and Mr. Topps expressed a +hope that Major Tifto would not draw the country on the present +occasion. The Major, thinking that it might be as well to conciliate +his enemies, rode solemnly and slowly home to Tallyho Lodge in the +middle of his hounds.</p> + + +<p><a name="c58" id="c58"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVIII</h3> +<h3>The Major Is Deposed<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Silverbridge undertook to return with Tregear to London instead +of going off direct to Matching, it is to be feared that he was +simply actuated by a desire to postpone his further visit to his +father's house. He had thought that Lady Mabel would surely be gone +before his task at Polpenno was completed. As soon as he should again +find himself in his father's presence he would at once declare his +intention of marrying Isabel Boncassen. But he could not see his way +to doing it while Lady Mabel should be in the house.</p> + +<p>"I think you will find Mabel still at Matching," said Tregear on +their way up. "She will wait for you, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why she should wait for me," said Silverbridge almost +angrily.</p> + +<p>"I thought that you and she were fast friends."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we are—after a fashion. She might wait for you perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I think she would,—if I could go there."</p> + +<p>"You are much thicker with her than I ever was. You went to see her +at Grex,—when nobody else was there."</p> + +<p>"Is Miss Cassewary nobody?"</p> + +<p>"Next door to it," said Silverbridge, half jealous of the favours +shown to Tregear.</p> + +<p>"I thought," said Tregear, "that there would be a closer intimacy +between you and her."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should think so."</p> + +<p>"Had you never any such idea yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't any now,—so there may be an end of it. I don't think a +fellow ought to be cross-questioned on such a subject."</p> + +<p>"Then I am very sorry for Mabel," said Tregear. This was uttered +solemnly, so that Silverbridge found himself debarred from making any +flippant answer. He could not altogether defend himself. He had been +quite justified, he thought, in changing his mind, but he did not +like to own that he had changed it so quickly.</p> + +<p>"I think we had better not talk any more about it," he said, after +pausing for a few moments. After that nothing more was said between +them on the subject.</p> + +<p>Up in town Silverbridge spent two or three days pleasantly enough, +while a thunderbolt was being prepared for him, or rather, in truth, +two thunderbolts. During these days he was much with Tregear; and +though he could not speak freely of his own matrimonial projects, +still he was brought round to give some sort of assent to the +engagement between Tregear and his sister. This new position which +his friend had won for himself did in some degree operate on his +judgment. It was not perhaps that he himself imagined that Tregear as +a member of Parliament would be worthier, but that he fancied that +such would be the Duke's feelings. The Duke had declared that Tregear +was nobody. That could hardly be said of a man who had a seat in the +House of Commons;—certainly could not be said by so staunch a +politician as the Duke.</p> + +<p>But had he known of those two thunderbolts he would not have enjoyed +his time at the Beargarden. The thunderbolts fell upon him in the +shape of two letters which reached his hands at the same time, and +were as follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Bobtailed Fox. Egham. 18th December.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Lord</span>,</p> + +<p>At a meeting held in this house to-day in reference to the +hunting of the Runnymede country, it was proposed that the +management of the hounds should be taken out of the hands +of Major Tifto, in consequence of certain conduct of which +it is alleged that he was guilty at the last Doncaster +races.</p> + +<p>Major Tifto was present, and requested that your +Lordship's opinion should be asked as to his guilt. I do +not know myself that we are warranted in troubling your +Lordship on the subject. I am, however, commissioned by +the majority of the gentlemen who were present to ask you +whether you think that Major Tifto's conduct on that +occasion was of such a nature as to make him unfit to be +the depositary of that influence, authority, and intimacy +which ought to be at the command of a Master of Hounds.</p> + +<p>I feel myself bound to inform your Lordship that the hunt +generally will be inclined to place great weight upon your +opinion; but that it does not undertake to reinstate Major +Tifto, even should your opinion be in his favour.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind4">I have the honour to be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind6">My Lord,</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">Your Lordship's most obedient Servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Jeremiah +Jawstock</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Juniper Lodge, Staines.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mr. Jawstock, when he had written this letter, was proud of his own +language, but still felt that the application was a very lame one. +Why ask any man for an opinion, and tell him at the same time that +his opinion might probably not be taken? And yet no other alternative +had been left to him. The meeting had decided that the application +should be made; but Mr. Jawstock was well aware that let the young +Lord's answer be what it might, the Major would not be endured as +Master in the Runnymede country. Mr. Jawstock felt that the passage +in which he explained that a Master of Hounds should be a depositary +of influence and intimacy, was good;—but yet the application was +lame, very lame.</p> + +<p>Lord Silverbridge as he read it thought that it was very unfair. It +was a most disagreeable thunderbolt. Then he opened the second +letter, of which he well knew the handwriting. It was from the Major. +Tifto's letters were very legible, but the writing was cramped, +showing that the operation had been performed with difficulty. +Silverbridge had hoped that he might never receive another epistle +from his late partner. The letter, as follows, had been drawn out for +Tifto in rough by the livery-stable keeper in Long Acre.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My +dear Lord Silverbridge</span>,</p> + +<p>I venture respectfully to appeal to your Lordship for an +act of justice. Nobody has more of a true-born +Englishman's feeling of fair play between man and man than +your Lordship; and as you and me have been a good deal +together, and your Lordship ought to know me pretty well, +I venture to appeal to your Lordship for a good word.</p> + +<p>All that story from Doncaster has got down into the +country where I am M.F.H. Nobody could have been more +sorry than me that your Lordship dropped your money. Would +not I have been prouder than anything to have a horse in +my name win the race! Was it likely I should lame him? +Anyways I didn't, and I don't think your Lordship thinks +it was me. Of course your Lordship and me is two now;—but +that don't alter the facts.</p> + +<p>What I want is your Lordship to send me a line, just +stating your Lordship's opinion that I didn't do it, and +didn't have nothing to do with it;—which I didn't. There +was a meeting at The Bobtailed Fox yesterday, and the +gentlemen was all of one mind to go by what your Lordship +would say. I couldn't desire nothing fairer. So I hope +your Lordship will stand to me now, and write something +that will pull me through.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind6">With all +respects I beg to remain,</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">Your Lordship's most dutiful Servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">T. Tifto</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>There was something in this letter which the Major himself did not +quite approve. There was an absence of familiarity about it which +annoyed him. He would have liked to call upon his late partner to +declare that a more honourable man than Major Tifto had never been +known on the turf. But he felt himself to be so far down in the world +that it was not safe for him to hold an opinion of his own, even +against the livery-stable keeper!</p> + +<p>Silverbridge was for a time in doubt whether he should answer the +letters at all, and if so how he should answer them. In regard to Mr. +Jawstock and the meeting at large, he regarded the application as an +impertinence. But as to Tifto himself he vacillated much between +pity, contempt, and absolute condemnation. Everybody had assured him +that the man had certainly been guilty. The fact that he had made +bets against their joint horse,—bets as to which he had said nothing +till after the race was over,—had been admitted by himself. And yet +it was possible that the man might not be such a rascal as to be +unfit to manage the Runnymede hounds. Having himself got rid of +Tifto, he would have been glad that the poor wretch should have been +left with his hunting honours. But he did not think that he could +write to his late partner any letter that would preserve those +honours to him.</p> + +<p>At Tregear's advice he referred the matter to Mr. Lupton. Mr. Lupton +was of opinion that both the letters should be answered, but that the +answer to each should be very short. "There is a prejudice about the +world just at present," said Mr. Lupton, "in favour of answering +letters. I don't see why I am to be subjected to an annoyance because +another man has taken a liberty. But it is better to submit to public +opinion. Public opinion thinks that letters should be answered." Then +Mr. Lupton dictated the answers.</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge presents his compliments to Mr. Jawstock, and begs +to say that he does not feel himself called upon to express any +opinion as to Major Tifto's conduct at Doncaster." That was the +first. The second was rather less simple, but not much +longer.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>I do not feel myself called upon to express any opinion +either to you or to others as to your conduct at +Doncaster. Having received a letter on the subject from +Mr. Jawstock I have written to him to this effect.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your obedient Servant,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">To T. Tifto, Esq.,<br /> +Tallyho Lodge.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Poor Tifto, when he got this very curt epistle, was broken-hearted. +He did not dare to show it. Day after day he told the livery-stable +keeper that he had received no reply, and at last asserted that his +appeal had remained altogether unanswered. Even this he thought was +better than acknowledging the rebuff which had reached him. As +regarded the meeting which had been held,—and any further meetings +which might be held,—at The Bobtailed Fox, he did not see the +necessity, as he explained to the livery-stable keeper, of +acknowledging that he had written any letter to Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>The letter to Mr. Jawstock was of course brought forward. Another +meeting at The Bobtailed Fox was convened. But in the meantime +hunting had been discontinued in the Runnymede country. The Major +with all his pluck, with infinite cherry brandy, could not do it. Men +who had a few weeks since been on very friendly terms, and who had +called each other Dick and Harry when the squabble first began, were +now talking of "punching" each other's heads. Special whips had been +procured by men who intended to ride, and special bludgeons by the +young farmers who intended that nobody should ride as long as Major +Tifto kept the hounds. It was said that the police would interfere. +It was whispered that the hounds would be shot,—though Mr. Topps, +Mr. Jawstock, and others declared that no crime so heinous as that +had ever been contemplated in the Runnymede country.</p> + +<p>The difficulties were too many for poor Tifto, and the hounds were +not brought out again under his influence.</p> + +<p>A second meeting was summoned, and an invitation was sent to the +Major similar to that which he had before received;—but on this +occasion he did not appear. Nor were there many of the gentlemen down +from London. This second meeting might almost have been called +select. Mr. Mahogany Topps was there of course, in the chair, and Mr. +Jawstock took the place of honour and of difficulty on his right +hand. There was the young gentleman from Bagshot, who considered +himself quite fit to take Tifto's place if somebody else would pay +the bills and settle the money, and there was the sporting old parson +from Croppingham. Three or four other members of the hunt were +present, and perhaps half-a-dozen farmers, ready to declare that +Major Tifto should never be allowed to cross their fields again.</p> + +<p>But there was no opposition. Mr. Jawstock read the young lord's note, +and declared that it was quite as much as he expected. He considered +that the note, short as it was, must be decisive. Major Tifto, in +appealing to Lord Silverbridge, had agreed to abide by his Lordship's +answer, and that answer was now before them. Mr. Jawstock ventured to +propose that Major Tifto should be declared to be no longer Master of +the Runnymede Hounds. The parson from Croppingham seconded the +proposition, and Major Tifto was formally deposed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c59" id="c59"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIX</h3> +<h3>No One Can Tell What May Come to Pass<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Then Lord Silverbridge necessarily went down to Matching, knowing +that he must meet Mabel Grex. Why should she have prolonged her +visit? No doubt it might be very pleasant for her to be his father's +guest at Matching, but she had been there above a month! He could +understand that his father should ask her to remain. His father was +still brooding over that foolish communication which had been made to +him on the night of the dinner at the Beargarden. His father was +still intending to take Mabel to his arms as a daughter-in-law. But +Lady Mabel herself knew that it could not be so! The whole truth had +been told to her. Why should she remain at Matching for the sake of +being mixed up in a scene the acting of which could not fail to be +disagreeable to her?</p> + +<p>He found the house very quiet and nearly empty. Mrs. Finn was there +with the two girls, and Mr. Warburton had come back. Miss Cassewary +had gone to a brother's house. Other guests to make Christmas merry +there were none. As he looked round at the large rooms he reflected +that he himself was there only for a special purpose. It was his duty +to break the news of his intended marriage to his father. As he stood +before the fire, thinking how best he might do this, it occurred to +him that a letter from a distance would have been the ready and +simple way. But then it had occurred to him also, when at a distance, +that a declaration of his purpose face to face was the simplest and +readiest way. If you have to go headlong into the water you should +take your plunge without hesitating. So he told himself, making up +his mind that he would have it all out that evening.</p> + +<p>At dinner Lady Mabel sat next to his father, and he could watch the +special courtesy with which the Duke treated the girl whom he was so +desirous of introducing to his house. Silverbridge could not talk +about the election at Polpenno because all conversation about Tregear +was interdicted in the presence of his sister. He could say nothing +as to the Runnymede hunt and the two thunderbolts which had fallen on +him, as Major Tifto was not a subject on which he could expatiate in +the presence of his father. He asked a few questions about the +shooting, and referred with great regret to his absence from the +Brake country.</p> + +<p>"I am sure Mr. Cassewary could spare you for another fortnight," the +Duke said to his neighbour, alluding to a visit which she now +intended to make.</p> + +<p>"If so he would have to spare me altogether," said Mabel, "for I must +meet my father in London in the middle of January."</p> + +<p>"Could you not put it off to another year?"</p> + +<p>"You would think I had taken root and was growing at Matching."</p> + +<p>"Of all our products you would be the most delightful, and the most +charming,—and we would hope the most permanent," said the courteous +Duke.</p> + +<p>"After being here so long I need hardly say that I like Matching +better than any place in the world. I suppose it is the contrast to +Grex."</p> + +<p>"Grex was a palace," said the Duke, "before a wall of this house had +been built."</p> + +<p>"Grex is very old, and very wild,—and very uncomfortable. But I love +it dearly. Matching is the very reverse of Grex."</p> + +<p>"Not I hope in your affections."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean that. I think one likes a contrast. But I must go, +say on the first of January, to pick up Miss Cassewary."</p> + +<p>It was certain, therefore, that she was going on the first of +January. How would it be if he put off the telling of his story for +yet another week, till she should be gone? Then he looked around and +bethought himself that the time would hang very heavy with him. And +his father would daily expect from him a declaration exactly opposed +to that which he had to make. He had no horses to ride. As he went on +listening he almost convinced himself that the proper thing to do +would be to go back to London and thence write to his father. He made +no confession to his father on that night.</p> + +<p>On the next morning there was a heavy fall of snow, but nevertheless +everybody managed to go to church. The Duke, as he looked at Lady +Mabel tripping along over the swept paths in her furs and short +petticoats and well-made boots, thought that his son was a lucky +fellow to have the chance of winning the love of such a girl. No +remembrance of Miss Boncassen came across his mind as he saw them +close together. It was so important that Silverbridge should marry +and thus be kept from further follies! And it was so momentous to the +fortunes of the Palliser family generally that he should marry well! +In thinking so it did not occur to him that the granddaughter of an +American labourer might be offered to him. A young lady fit to be +Duchess of Omnium was not to be found everywhere. But this girl, he +thought as he saw her walking briskly and strongly through the snow, +with every mark of health about her, with every sign of high +breeding, very beautiful, exquisite in manner, gracious as a goddess, +was fit to be a Duchess! Silverbridge at this moment was walking +close to her side,—in good looks, in gracious manner, in high +breeding her equal,—in worldly gifts infinitely her superior. Surely +she would not despise him! Silverbridge at the moment was expressing +a hope that the sermon would not be very long.</p> + +<p>After lunch Mabel came suddenly behind the chair on which +Silverbridge was sitting and asked him to take a walk with her. Was +she not afraid of the snow? "Perhaps you are," she said laughing. "I +do not mind it in the least." When they were but a few yards from the +front door, she put her hand upon his arm, and spoke to him as though +she had arranged the walk with reference to that special question, +"And now tell me all about Frank."</p> + +<p>She had arranged everything. She had a plan before her now, and had +determined in accordance with that plan that she would say nothing to +disturb him on this occasion. If she could succeed in bringing him +into good humour with herself, that should be sufficient for to-day. +"Now tell me everything about Frank."</p> + +<p>"Frank is member of Parliament for Polpenno. That is all."</p> + +<p>"That is so like a man and so unlike a woman. What did he say? What +did he do? How did he look? What did you say? What did you do? How +did you look?"</p> + +<p>"We looked very miserable, when we got wet through, walking about all +day in the rain."</p> + +<p>"Was that necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Quite necessary. We looked so mean and draggled that nobody would +have voted for us, only that poor Mr. Carbottle looked meaner and +more draggled."</p> + +<p>"The Duke says you made ever so many speeches."</p> + +<p>"I should think I did. It is very easy to make speeches down at a +place like that. Tregear spoke like a book."</p> + +<p>"He spoke well?"</p> + +<p>"Awfully well. He told them that all the good things that had ever +been done in Parliament had been carried by the Tories. He went back +to Pitt's time, and had it all at his fingers' ends."</p> + +<p>"And quite true."</p> + +<p>"That's just what it was not. It was all a crammer. But it did as +well."</p> + +<p>"I am glad he is a member. Don't you think the Duke will come round a +little now?"</p> + +<p>When Tregear and the election had been sufficiently discussed, they +came by degrees to Major Tifto and the two thunderbolts. +Silverbridge, when he perceived that nothing was to be said about +Isabel Boncassen, or his own freedom in the matter of love-making, +was not sorry to have a friend from whom he could find sympathy for +himself in his own troubles. With some encouragement from Mabel the +whole story was told. "Was it not a great impertinence?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It was an awful bore. What could I say? I was not going to pronounce +judgment against the poor devil. I daresay he was good enough for Mr. +Jawstock."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose he did cheat horribly."</p> + +<p>"I daresay he did. A great many of them do cheat. But what of that? I +was not bound to give him a character, bad or good."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"He had not been my servant. It was such a letter. I'll show it you +when we get in!—asking whether Tifto was fit to be the depositary of +the intimacy of the Runnymede hunt! And then Tif's letter;—I almost +wept over that."</p> + +<p>"How could he have had the audacity to write at all?"</p> + +<p>"He said that 'him and me had been a good deal together.' +Unfortunately that was true. Even now I am not quite sure that he +lamed the horse himself."</p> + +<p>"Everybody thinks he did. Percival says there is no doubt about it."</p> + +<p>"Percival knows nothing about it. Three of the gang ran away, and he +stood his ground. That's about all we do know."</p> + +<p>"What did you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"I had to address him as Sir, and beg him not to write to me any +more. Of course they mean to get rid of him, and I couldn't do him +any good. Poor Tifto! Upon the whole I think I hate Jawstock worse +than Tifto."</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel was content with her afternoon's work. When they had been +at Matching before the Polpenno election, there had apparently been +no friendship between them,—at any rate no confidential friendship. +Miss Boncassen had been there, and he had had neither ears nor eyes +for any one else. But now something like the feeling of old days had +been restored. She had not done much towards her great object;—but +then she had known that nothing could be done till he should again be +in a good humour with her.</p> + +<p>On the Sunday, the Monday, and the Tuesday they were again together. +In some of these interviews Silverbridge described the Polpenno +people, and told her how Miss Tregear had been reassured by his +eloquence. He also read to her the Jawstock and Tifto correspondence, +and was complimented by her as to his prudence and foresight. "To +tell the truth I consulted Mr. Lupton," he said, not liking to take +credit for wisdom which had not been his own. Then they talked about +Grex, and Killancodlem, about Gerald and the shooting, about Mary's +love for Tregear, and about the work of the coming Session. On all +these subjects they were comfortable and confidential,—Miss +Boncassen's name never having been as yet so much as mentioned.</p> + +<p>But still the real work was before her. She had not hoped to bring +him round to kneel once more at her feet by such gentle measures as +these. She had not dared to dream that he could in this way be taught +to forget the past autumn and all its charms. She knew well that +there was something very difficult before her. But, if that difficult +thing might be done at all, these were the preparations which must be +made for the doing of it.</p> + +<p>It was arranged that she should leave Matching on Saturday, the first +day of the new year. Things had gone on in the manner described till +the Thursday had come. The Duke had been impatient but had restrained +himself. He had seen that they were much together and that they were +apparently friends. He too told himself that there were two more +days, and that before the end of those days everything might be +pleasantly settled!</p> + +<p>It had become a matter of course that Silverbridge and Mabel should +walk together in the afternoon. He himself had felt that there was +danger in this,—not danger that he should be untrue to Isabel, but +that he should make others think that he was true to Mabel. But he +excused himself on the plea that he and Mabel had been intimate +friends,—were still intimate friends, and that she was going away in +a day or two. Mary, who watched it all, was sure that misery was +being prepared for someone. She was aware that by this time her +father was anxious to welcome Mabel as his daughter-in-law. She +strongly suspected that something had been said between her father +and her brother on the subject. But then she had Isabel Boncassen's +direct assurance that Silverbridge was engaged to her! Now when +Isabel's back was turned, Silverbridge and Mabel were always +together.</p> + +<p>On the Thursday after lunch they were again out together. It had +become so much a habit that the walk repeated itself without an +effort. It had been part of Mabel's scheme that it should be so. +During all this morning she had been thinking of her scheme. It was +all but hopeless. So much she had declared to herself. But forlorn +hopes do sometimes end in splendid triumphs. That which she might +gain was so much! And what could she lose? The sweet bloom of her +maiden shame? That, she told herself, with bitterest inward tears, +was already gone from her. Frank Tregear at any rate knew where her +heart had been given. Frank Tregear knew that having lost her heart +to one man she was anxious to marry another. He knew that she was +willing to accept the coronet of a duchess as her consolation. That +bloom of her maiden shame, of which she quite understood the +sweetness, the charm, the value—was gone when she had brought +herself to such a state that any human being should know that, loving +one man, she should be willing to marry another. The sweet treasure +was gone from her. Its aroma was fled. It behoved her now to be +ambitious, cautious,—and if possible successful.</p> + +<p>When first she had so resolved, success seemed to be easily within +her reach. Of all the golden youths that crossed her path no one was +so pleasant to her eye, to her ear, to her feelings generally as this +Duke's young heir. There was a coming manliness about him which she +liked,—and she liked even the slight want of present manliness. +Putting aside Frank Tregear she could go nearer to loving him than +any other man she had ever seen. With him she would not be turned +from her duties by disgust, by dislike, or dismay. She could even +think that the time would come when she might really love him. Then +she had all but succeeded, and she might have succeeded altogether +had she been but a little more prudent. But she had allowed her great +prize to escape from her fingers.</p> + +<p>But the prize was not yet utterly beyond her grasp. To recover +it,—to recover even the smallest chance of recovering it, there +would be need of great exertion. She must be bold, sudden, +unwomanlike,—and yet with such display of woman's charm that he at +least should discover no want. She must be false, but false with such +perfect deceit, that he must regard her as a pearl of truth. If +anything could lure him back it must be his conviction of her +passionate love. And she must be strong;—so strong as to overcome +not only his weakness, but all that was strong in him. She knew that +he did love that other girl,—and she must overcome even that. And to +do this she must prostrate herself at his feet,—as, since the world +began, it has been man's province to prostrate himself at the feet of +the woman he loves.</p> + +<p>To do this she must indeed bid adieu to the sweet bloom of her maiden +shame! But had she not done so already when, by the side of the brook +at Killancodlem, she had declared to him plainly enough her despair +at hearing that he loved that other girl? Though she were to grovel +at his feet she could not speak more plainly than she had spoken +then. She could not tell her story now more plainly than she had done +then; but,—though the chances were small,—perchance she might tell +it more effectually.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps this will be our last walk," she said. "Come down to the +seat over the river."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be the last? You'll be here to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"There are so many slips in such things," she said laughing. "You may +get a letter from your constituents that will want all the day to +answer. Or your father may have a political communication to make to +me. But at any rate come." So they went to the seat.</p> + +<p>It was a spot in the park from whence there was a distant view over +many lands, and low beneath the bench, which stood on the edge of a +steep bank, ran a stream which made a sweeping bend in this place, so +that a reach of the little river might be seen both to the right and +to the left. Though the sun was shining, the snow under their feet +was hard with frost. It was an air such as one sometimes finds in +England, and often in America. Though the cold was very perceptible, +though water in the shade was freezing at this moment, there was no +feeling of damp, no sense of bitter wind. It was a sweet and jocund +air, such as would make young people prone to run and skip. "You are +not going to sit down with all the snow on the bench," said +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>On their way thither she had not said a word that would disturb him. +She had spoken to him of the coming Session, and had managed to +display to him the interest which she took in his parliamentary +career. In doing this she had flattered him to the top of his bent. +If he would return to his father's politics, then would she too +become a renegade. Would he speak in the next Session? She hoped he +would speak. And if he did, might she be there to hear him? She was +cautious not to say a word of Frank Tregear, understanding something +of that strange jealousy which could exist even when he who was +jealous did not love the woman who caused it.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I do not think we can sit. But still I like to be +here with you. All that some day will be your own." Then she +stretched her hands out to the far view.</p> + +<p>"Some of it, I suppose. I don't think it is all ours. As for that, if +we cared for extent of acres, one ought to go to Barsetshire."</p> + +<p>"Is that larger?"</p> + +<p>"Twice as large, I believe, and yet none of the family like being +there. The rental is very well."</p> + +<p>"And the borough," she said, leaning on his arm and looking up into +his face. "What a happy fellow you ought to be."</p> + +<p>"Bar Tifto,—and Mr. Jawstock."</p> + +<p>"You have got rid of Tifto and all those troubles very easily."</p> + +<p>"Thanks to the governor."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. I do love your father so dearly."</p> + +<p>"So do I—rather."</p> + +<p>"May I tell you something about him?" As she asked the question she +was standing very close to him, leaning upon his arm, with her left +hand crossed upon her right. Had others been there, of course she +would not have stood in such a guise. She knew that,—and he knew it +too. Of course there was something in it of declared affection,—of +that kind of love which most of us have been happy enough to give and +receive, without intending to show more than true friendship will +allow at special moments.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me anything about him I shan't like to hear."</p> + +<p>"Ah;—that is so hard to know. I wish you would like to hear it."</p> + +<p>"What can it be?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you now."</p> + +<p>"Why not? And why did you offer?"</p> + +<p>"Because— Oh, Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>He certainly as yet did not understand it. It had never occurred to +him that she would know what were his father's wishes. Perhaps he was +slow of comprehension as he urged her to tell him what this was about +his father. "What can you tell me about him, that I should not like +to hear?"</p> + +<p>"You do not know? Oh, Silverbridge, I think you know." Then there +came upon him a glimmering of the truth. "You do know." And she stood +apart looking him full in the face.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you can have to tell me."</p> + +<p>"No;—no. It is not I that should tell you. But yet it is so. +Silverbridge, what did you say to me when you came to me that morning +in the Square?"</p> + +<p>"What did I say?"</p> + +<p>"Was I not entitled to think that you—loved me?" To this he had +nothing to reply, but stood before her silent and frowning. "Think of +it, Silverbridge. Was it not so? And because I did not at once tell +you all the truth, because I did not there say that my heart was all +yours, were you right to leave me?"</p> + +<p>"You only laughed at me."</p> + +<p>"No;—no; no; I never laughed at you. How could I laugh when you were +all the world to me? Ask Frank;—he knew. Ask Miss Cass;—she knew. +And can you say you did not know; you, you, you yourself? Can any +girl suppose that such words as these are to mean nothing when they +have been spoken? You knew I loved you."</p> + +<p>"No;—no."</p> + +<p>"You must have known it. I will never believe but that you knew it. +Why should your father be so sure of it?"</p> + +<p>"He never was sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Silverbridge; yes. There is not one in the house who does not +see that he treats me as though he expected me to be his son's wife. +Do you not know that he wishes it?" He fain would not have answered +this; but she paused for his answer and then repeated her question. +"Do you not know that he wishes it?"</p> + +<p>"I think he does," said Silverbridge; "but it can never be so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Silverbridge;—oh, my loved one! Do not say that to me! Do not +kill me at once!" Now she placed her hands one on each arm as she +stood opposite to him and looked up into his face. "You said you +loved me once. Why do you desert me now? Have you a right to treat me +like that;—when I tell you that you have all my heart?" The tears +were now streaming down her face, and they were not counterfeit +tears.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, submitting to her hands, but not lifting his arm +to embrace her.</p> + +<p>"What do I know?"</p> + +<p>"That I have given all I have to give to another." As he said this he +looked away sternly, over her shoulder, to the distance.</p> + +<p>"That American girl!" she exclaimed, starting back, with some show of +sternness also on her brow.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that American girl," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>Then she recovered herself immediately. Indignation, natural +indignation, would not serve her turn in the present emergency. "You +know that cannot be. You ought to know it. What will your father say? +You have not dared to tell him. That is so natural," she added, +trying to appease his frown. "How possibly can it be told to him? I +will not say a word against her."</p> + +<p>"No; do not do that."</p> + +<p>"But there are fitnesses of things which such a one as you cannot +disregard without preparing for yourself a whole life of repentance."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you the truth."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I would sooner lose all;—the rank I have; the rank that I am to +have; all these lands that you have been looking on; my father's +wealth, my seat in Parliament,—everything that fortune has done for +me,—I would give them all up, sooner than lose her." Now at any rate +he was a man. She was sure of that now. This was more, very much +more, not only than she had expected from him, but more than she had +thought it possible that his character should have produced.</p> + +<p>His strength reduced her to weakness. "And I am nothing," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; you are Lady Mabel Grex,—whom all women envy, and whom +all men honour."</p> + +<p>"The poorest wretch this day under the sun."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that. You should take shame to say that."</p> + +<p>"I do take shame;—and I do say it. Sir, do you not feel what you owe +me? Do you not know that you have made me the wretch I am? How did +you dare to talk to me as you did talk when you were in London? You +tell me that I am Lady Mabel Grex;—and yet you come to me with a lie +on your lips,—with such a lie as that! You must have taken me for +some nursemaid on whom you had condescended to cast your eye! It +cannot be that even you should have dared to treat Lady Mabel Grex +after such a fashion as that! And now you have cast your eye on this +other girl. You can never marry her!"</p> + +<p>"I shall endeavour to do so."</p> + +<p>"You can never marry her," she said, stamping her foot. She had now +lost all the caution which she had taught herself for the prosecution +of her scheme,—all the care with which she had burdened herself. Now +she was natural enough. "No,—you can never marry her. You could not +show yourself after it in your clubs, or in Parliament, or in the +world. Come home, do you say? No, I will not go to your home. It is +not my home. Cold;—of course I am cold;—cold through to the heart."</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave you alone here," he said, for she had now turned from +him, and was walking with hurried steps and short turns on the edge +of the bank, which at this place was almost a precipice.</p> + +<p>"You have left me,—utterly in the cold—more desolate than I am here +even though I should spend the night among the trees. But I will go +back, and will tell your father everything. If my father were other +than he is,—if my brother were better to me, you would not have done +this."</p> + +<p>"If you had a legion of brothers it would have been the same," he +said, turning sharp upon her.</p> + +<p>They walked on together, but without a word till the house was in +sight. Then she looked round at him, and stopped him on the path as +she caught his eye. "Silverbridge!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Lady Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Call me Mabel. At any rate call me Mabel. If I have said anything to +offend you—I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>"I am not offended—but unhappy."</p> + +<p>"If you are unhappy, what must I be? What have I to look forward to? +Give me your hand, and say that we are friends."</p> + +<p>"Certainly we are friends," he said, as he gave her his hand.</p> + +<p>"Who can tell what may come to pass?" To this he would make no +answer, as it seemed to imply that some division between himself and +Isabel Boncassen might possibly come to pass. "You will not tell any +one that I love you?"</p> + +<p>"I tell such a thing as that!"</p> + +<p>"But never forget it yourself. No one can tell what may come to +pass."</p> + +<p>Lady Mabel at once went up to her room. She had played her scene, but +was well aware that she had played it altogether unsuccessfully.</p> + + +<p><a name="c60" id="c60"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LX</h3> +<h3>Lord Gerald in Further Trouble<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Silverbridge got back to the house he was by no means well +pleased with himself. In the first place he was unhappy to think that +Mabel was unhappy, and that he had made her so. And then she had told +him that he would not have dared to have acted as he had done, but +that her father and her brother were careless to defend her. He had +replied fiercely that a legion of brothers, ready to act on her +behalf, would not have altered his conduct; but not the less did he +feel that he had behaved badly to her. It could not now be altered. +He could not now be untrue to Isabel. But certainly he had said a +word or two to Mabel which he could not remember without regret. He +had not thought that a word from him could have been so powerful. +Now, when that word was recalled to his memory by the girl to whom it +had been spoken, he could not quite acquit himself.</p> + +<p>And Mabel had declared to him that she would at once appeal to his +father. There was an absurdity in this at which he could not but +smile,—that the girl should complain to his father because he would +not marry her! But even in doing this she might cause him great +vexation. He could not bring himself to ask her not to tell her story +to the Duke. He must take all that as it might come.</p> + +<p>While he was thinking of all this in his own room a servant brought +him two letters. From the first which he opened he soon perceived +that it contained an account of more troubles. It was from his +brother Gerald, and was written from Auld Reikie, the name of a house +in Scotland belonging to Lord Nidderdale's people.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Silver</span>,</p> + +<p>I have got into a most awful scrape. That fellow Percival +is here, and Dolly Longstaff, and Nidderdale, and +Popplecourt, and Jack Hindes, and Perry who is in the +Coldstreams, and one or two more, and there has been a lot +of cards, and I have lost ever so much money. I wouldn't +mind it so much but Percival has won it all,—a fellow I +hate; and now I owe him—three thousand four hundred +pounds! He has just told me he is hard up and that he +wants the money before the week is over. He can't be hard +up because he has won from everybody;—but of course I had +to tell him that I would pay him.</p> + +<p>Can you help me? Of course I know that I have been a fool. +Percival knows what he is about and plays regularly for +money. When I began I didn't think that I could lose above +twenty or thirty pounds. But it got on from one thing to +another, and when I woke this morning I felt I didn't know +what to do with myself. You can't think how the luck went +against me. Everybody says that they never saw such cards.</p> + +<p>And now do tell me how I am to get out of it. Could you +manage it with Mr. Moreton? Of course I will make it all +right with you some day. Moreton always lets you have +whatever you want. But perhaps you couldn't do this +without letting the governor know. I would rather anything +than that. There is some money owing at Oxford also, which +of course he must know.</p> + +<p>I was thinking that perhaps I might get it from some of +those fellows in London. There are people called Comfort +and Criball, who let men have money constantly. I know two +or three up at Oxford who have had it from them. Of course +I couldn't go to them as you could do, for, in spite of +what the governor said to us up in London one day, there +is nothing that must come to me. But you could do anything +in that way, and of course I would stand to it.</p> + +<p>I know you won't throw me over, because you always have +been such a brick. But above all things don't tell the +governor. Percival is such a nasty fellow, otherwise I +shouldn't mind it. He spoke this morning as though I was +treating him badly,—though the money was only lost last +night; and he looked at me in a way that made me long to +kick him. I told him not to flurry himself, and that he +should have his money. If he speaks to me like that again +I will kick him.</p> + +<p>I will be at Matching as soon as possible, but I cannot go +till this is settled. Nid—[meaning Lord Nidderdale]—is a +brick.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate Brother,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Gerald</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">The other was from Nidderdale, +and referred to the same subject.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Silverbridge</span>,</p> + +<p>Here has been a terrible nuisance. Last night some of the +men got to playing cards, and Gerald lost a terribly large +sum to Percival. I did all that I could to stop it, +because I saw that Percival was going in for a big thing. +I fancy that he got as much from Dolly Longstaff as he did +from Gerald;—but it won't matter much to Dolly; or if it +does, nobody cares. Gerald told me he was writing to you +about it, so I am not betraying him.</p> + +<p>What is to be done? Of course Percival is behaving badly. +He always does. I can't turn him out of the house, and he +seems to intend to stick to Gerald till he has got the +money. He has taken a cheque from Dolly dated two months +hence. I am in an awful funk for fear Gerald should pitch +into him. He will, in a minute, if anything rough is said +to him. I suppose the straightest thing would be to go to +the Duke at once, but Gerald won't hear of it. I hope you +won't think me wrong to tell you. If I could help him I +would. You know what a bad doctor I am for that sort of +complaint.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours always,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Nidderdale</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The dinner-bell had rung before Silverbridge had come to an end of +thinking of this new vexation, and he had not as yet made up his mind +what he had better do for his brother. There was one thing as to +which he was determined,—that it should not be done by him, nor, if +he could prevent it, by Gerald. There should be no dealings with +Comfort and Criball. The Duke had succeeded, at any rate, in filling +his son's mind with a horror of aid of that sort. Nidderdale had +suggested that the "straightest" thing would be to go direct to the +Duke. That no doubt would be straight,—and efficacious. The Duke +would not have allowed a boy of his to be a debtor to Lord Percival +for a day, let the debt have been contracted how it might. But Gerald +had declared against this course,—and Silverbridge himself would +have been most unwilling to adopt it. How could he have told that +story to the Duke, while there was that other infinitely more +important story of his own, which must be told at once?</p> + +<p>In the midst of all these troubles he went down to dinner. "Lady +Mabel," said the Duke, "tells me that you two have been to see Sir +Guy's look-out."</p> + +<p>She was standing close to the Duke and whispered a word into his ear. +"You said you would call me Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Silverbridge, "and I have made up my mind that Sir +Guy never stayed there very long in winter. It was awfully cold."</p> + +<p>"I had furs on," said Mabel. "What a lovely spot it is, even in this +weather." Then dinner was announced. She had not been cold. She could +still feel the tingling heat of her blood as she had implored him to +love her.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge felt that he must write to his brother by the first +post. The communication was of a nature that would bear no delay. If +his hands had been free he would himself have gone off to Auld +Reikie. At last he made up his mind. The first letter he wrote was +neither to Nidderdale nor to Gerald, but to Lord Percival +himself.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Percival</span>,</p> + +<p>Gerald writes me word that he has lost to you at cards +£3,400, and he wants me to get him the money. It is a +terrible nuisance, and he has been an ass. But of course I +shall stand to him for anything he wants. I haven't got +£3,400 in my pocket, and I don't know any one who +has;—that is among our set. But I send you my I.O.U. for +the amount, and will promise to get you the money in two +months. I suppose that will be sufficient, and that you +will not bother Gerald any more about it.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Then he copied this letter and enclosed the copy in another which he +wrote to his brother.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noiondent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Gerald</span>,</p> + +<p>What an ass you have been! But I don't suppose you are +worse than I was at Doncaster. I will have nothing to do +with such people as Comfort and Criball. That is the sure +way to the <span class="nowrap">D––––!</span> +As for telling Moreton, that is only a +polite and roundabout way of telling the governor. He +would immediately ask the governor what was to be done. +You will see what I have done. Of course I must tell the +governor before the end of February, as I cannot get the +money in any other way. But that I will do. It does seem +hard upon him. Not that the money will hurt him much; but +that he would so like to have a steady-going son.</p> + +<p>I suppose Percival won't make any bother about the I.O.U. +He'll be a fool if he does. I wouldn't kick him if I were +you,—unless he says anything very bad. You would be sure +to come to grief somehow. He is a beast.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate Brother,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>With these letters that special grief was removed from his mind for +awhile. Looking over the dark river of possible trouble which seemed +to run between the present moment and the time at which the money +must be procured, he thought that he had driven off this calamity of +Gerald's to infinite distance. But into that dark river he must now +plunge almost at once. On the next day, he managed so that there +should be no walk with Mabel. In the evening he could see that the +Duke was uneasy;—but not a word was said to him. On the following +morning Lady Mabel took her departure. When she went from the door, +both the Duke and Silverbridge were there to bid her farewell. She +smiled and was as gracious as though everything had gone according to +her heart's delight. "Dear Duke, I am so obliged to you for your +kindness," she said, as she put up her cheek for him to kiss. Then +she gave her hand to Silverbridge. "Of course you will come and see +me in town." And she smiled upon them all;—having courage enough to +keep down all her sufferings.</p> + +<p>"Come in here a moment, Silverbridge," said the father as they +returned into the house together. "How is it now between you and +her?"</p> + + +<p><a name="c61" id="c61"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXI</h3> +<h3>"Bone of My Bone"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"How is it now between you and her?" That was the question which the +Duke put to his son as soon as he had closed the door of the study. +Lady Mabel had just been dismissed from the front door on her +journey, and there could be no doubt as to the "her" intended. No +such question would have been asked had not Silverbridge himself +declared to his father his purpose of making Lady Mabel his wife. On +that subject the Duke, without such authority, would not have +interfered. But he had been consulted, had acceded, and had +encouraged the idea by excessive liberality on his part. He had never +dropped it out of his mind for a moment. But when he found that the +girl was leaving his house without any explanation, then he became +restless and inquisitive.</p> + +<p>They say that perfect love casteth out fear. If it be so the love of +children to their parents is seldom altogether perfect,—and perhaps +had better not be quite perfect. With this young man it was not that +he feared anything which his father could do to him, that he believed +that in consequence of the declaration which he had to make his +comforts and pleasures would be curtailed, or his independence +diminished. He knew his father too well to dread such punishment. But +he feared that he would make his father unhappy, and he was conscious +that he had so often sinned in that way. He had stumbled so +frequently! Though in action he would so often be thoughtless,—yet +he understood perfectly the effect which had been produced on his +father's mind by his conduct. He had it at heart "to be good to the +governor," to gratify that most loving of all possible friends, who, +as he knew well, was always thinking of his welfare. And yet he never +had been "good to the governor";—nor had Gerald;—and to all this +was added his sister's determined perversity. It was thus he feared +his father.</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, while the Duke stood with his back to the +fire looking at him. "I'm afraid that it is all over, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"All over!"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid so."</p> + +<p>"Why is it all over? Has she refused you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir;—it isn't quite that." Then he paused again. It was so +difficult to begin about Isabel Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that," said the Duke, almost hesitating; "very sorry. +You will understand, I hope, that I should make no inquiry in such a +matter, unless I had felt myself warranted in doing so by what you +had yourself told me in London."</p> + +<p>"I understand all that."</p> + +<p>"I have been very anxious about it, and have even gone so far as to +make some preparations for what I had hoped would be your early +marriage."</p> + +<p>"Preparations!" exclaimed Silverbridge, thinking of church bells, +bride cake, and wedding presents.</p> + +<p>"As to the property. I am so anxious that you should enjoy all the +settled independence which can belong to an English gentleman. I +never plough or sow. I know no more of sheep and bulls than of the +extinct animals of earlier ages. I would not have it so with you. I +would fain see you surrounded by those things which ought to interest +a nobleman in this country. Why is it all over with Lady Mabel Grex?"</p> + +<p>The young man looked imploringly at his father, as though earnestly +begging that nothing more might be said about Mabel. "I had changed +my mind before I found out that she was really in love with me!" He +could not say that. He could not hint that he might still have Mabel +if he would. The only thing for him was to tell everything about +Isabel Boncassen. He felt that in doing this he must begin with +himself. "I have rather changed my mind, sir," he said, "since we +were walking together in London that night."</p> + +<p>"Have you quarrelled with Lady Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no. I am very fond of Mabel;—only not just like that."</p> + +<p>"Not just like what?"</p> + +<p>"I had better tell the whole truth at once."</p> + +<p>"Certainly tell the truth, Silverbridge. I cannot say that you are +bound in duty to tell the whole truth even to your father in such a +matter."</p> + +<p>"But I mean to tell you everything. Mabel did not seem to care for me +much—in London. And then I saw someone,—someone I liked better." +Then he stopped, but as the Duke did not ask any questions he plunged +on. "It was Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"Miss Boncassen!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Silverbridge, with a little access of decision.</p> + +<p>"The American young lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of her family?"</p> + +<p>"I think I know all about her family. It is not much in the way +of—family."</p> + +<p>"You have not spoken to her about it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir;—I have settled it all with her, on condition—"</p> + +<p>"Settled it with her that she is to be your wife!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir,—on condition that you will approve."</p> + +<p>"Did you go to her, Silverbridge, with such a stipulation as that?"</p> + +<p>"It was not like that."</p> + +<p>"How was it then?"</p> + +<p>"She stipulated. She will marry me if you will consent."</p> + +<p>"It was she then who thought of my wishes and my feeling;—not you?"</p> + +<p>"I knew that I loved her. What is a man to do when he feels like +that? Of course I meant to tell you." The Duke was now looking very +black. "I thought you liked her, sir."</p> + +<p>"Liked her! I did like her. I do like her. What has that to do with +it? Do you think I like none but those with whom I should think it +fitting to ally myself in marriage? Is there to be no duty in such +matters, no restraint, no feeling of what is due to your own name, +and to others who bear it? The lad out there who is sweeping the +walks can marry the first girl that pleases his eye if she will take +him. Perhaps his lot is the happier because he owns such liberty. +Have you the same freedom?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I have,—by law."</p> + +<p>"Do you recognise no duty but what the laws impose upon you? Should +you be disposed to eat and drink in bestial excess, because the laws +would not hinder you? Should you lie and sleep all the day, the law +would say nothing! Should you neglect every duty which your position +imposes on you, the law could not interfere! To such a one as you the +law can be no guide. You should so live as not to come near the +law,—or to have the law to come near to you. From all evil against +which the law bars you, you should be barred, at an infinite +distance, by honour, by conscience, and nobility. Does the law +require patriotism, philanthropy, self-abnegation, public service, +purity of purpose, devotion to the needs of others who have been +placed in the world below you? The law is a great thing,—because men +are poor and weak, and bad. And it is great, because where it exists +in its strength, no tyrant can be above it. But between you and me +there should be no mention of law as the guide of conduct. Speak to +me of honour, of duty, and of nobility; and tell me what they require +of you."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge listened in silence and with something of true +admiration in his heart. But he felt the strong necessity of +declaring his own convictions on one special point here, at once, in +this new crisis of the conversation. That accident in regard to the +colour of the Dean's lodge had stood in the way of his logical +studies,—so that he was unable to put his argument into proper +shape; but there belonged to him a certain natural astuteness which +told him that he must put in his rejoinder at this particular point. +"I think I am bound in honour and in duty to marry Miss Boncassen," +he said. "And, if I understand what you mean, by nobility just as +much."</p> + +<p>"Because you have promised."</p> + +<p>"Not only for that. I have promised and therefore I am bound. She +has—well, she has said that she loves me, and therefore of course I +am bound. But it is not only that."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose a man ought to marry the woman he loves,—if he can get +her."</p> + +<p>"No; no; not so; not always so. Do you think that love is a passion +that cannot be withstood?"</p> + +<p>"But here we are both of one mind, sir. When I saw how you seemed to +take to <span class="nowrap">her—"</span></p> + +<p>"Take to her! Can I not interest myself in human beings without +wishing to make them flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone? What am I to +think of you? It was but the other day that all that you are now +telling me of Miss Boncassen, you were telling me of Lady Mabel +Grex." Here poor Silverbridge bit his lips and shook his head, and +looked down upon the ground. This was the weak part of his case. He +could not tell his father the whole story about Mabel,—that she had +coyed his love, so that he had been justified in thinking himself +free from any claim in that direction when he had encountered the +infinitely sweeter charms of Isabel Boncassen. "You are weak as +water," said the unhappy father.</p> + +<p>"I am not weak in this."</p> + +<p>"Did you not say exactly the same about Lady Mabel?"</p> + +<p>There was a pause, so that he was driven to reply. "I found her as I +thought indifferent, and then—I changed my mind."</p> + +<p>"Indifferent! What does she think about it now? Does she know of +this? How does it stand between you two at the present moment?"</p> + +<p>"She knows that I am engaged to—Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"Does she approve of it?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I ask her, sir? I have not asked her."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you tell her? She could not but have spoken her mind +when you told her. There must have been much between you when this +was talked of."</p> + +<p>The unfortunate young man was obliged to take some time before he +could answer this appeal. He had to own that his father had some +justice on his side, but at the same time he could reveal nothing of +Mabel's secret. "I told her because we were friends. I did not ask +her approval; but she did disapprove. She thought that your son +should not marry an American girl without family."</p> + +<p>"Of course she would feel that."</p> + +<p>"Now I have told you what she said, and I hope you will ask me no +further questions about her. I cannot make Lady Mabel my +wife;—though, for the matter of that, I ought not to presume that +she would take me if I wished it. I had intended to ask you to-day to +consent to my marriage with Miss Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"I cannot give you my consent."</p> + +<p>"Then I am very unhappy."</p> + +<p>"How can I believe as to your unhappiness when you would have said +the same about Lady Mabel Grex a few weeks ago?"</p> + +<p>"Nearly eight months," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"What is the difference? It is not the time, but the disposition of +the man! I cannot give you my consent. The young lady sees it in the +right light, and that will make your escape easy."</p> + +<p>"I do not want to escape."</p> + +<p>"She has indicated the cause which will separate you."</p> + +<p>"I will not be separated from her," said Silverbridge, who was +beginning to feel that he was subjugated to tyranny. If he chose to +marry Isabel, no one could have a right to hinder him.</p> + +<p>"I can only hope that you will think better of it, and that when next +you speak to me on that or any other subject you will answer me with +less arrogance."</p> + +<p>This rebuke was terrible to the son, whose mind at the present moment +was filled with two ideas, that of constancy to Isabel Boncassen, and +then of respect and affection for his father. "Indeed, sir," he said, +"I am not arrogant, and if I have answered improperly I beg your +pardon. But my mind is made up about this, and I thought you had +better know how it is."</p> + +<p>"I do not see that I can say anything else to you now."</p> + +<p>"I think of going to Harrington this afternoon." Then the Duke, with +further very visible annoyance, asked where Harrington was. It was +explained that Harrington was Lord Chiltern's seat, Lord Chiltern +being the Master of the Brake hounds;—that it was his son's purpose +to remain six weeks among the Brake hounds, but that he should stay +only a day or two with Lord Chiltern. Then it appeared that +Silverbridge intended to put himself up at a hunting inn in the +neighbourhood, and the Duke did not at all like the plan. That his +son should choose to live at an inn, when the comforts of an English +country house were open to him, was distasteful and almost offensive +to the Duke. And the matter was not improved when he was made to +understand that all this was to be done for the sake of hunting. +There had been the shooting in Scotland; then the racing,—ah, alas! +yes,—the racing, and the betting at Doncaster! Then the shooting at +Matching had been made to appear to be the chief reason why he +himself had been living in his own house! And now his son was going +away to live at an inn in order that more time might be devoted to +hunting! "Why can't you hunt here at home, if you must hunt?"</p> + +<p>"It is all woodland," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I thought you wanted woods. Lord Chiltern is always troubling me +about Trumpington Wood."</p> + +<p>This breeze about the hunting enabled the son to escape without any +further allusion to Miss Boncassen. He did escape, and proceeded to +turn over in his mind all that had been said. His tale had been told. +A great burden was thus taken off his shoulders. He could tell Isabel +so much, and thus free himself from the suspicion of having been +afraid to declare his purpose. She should know what he had done, and +should be made to understand that he had been firm. He had, he +thought, been very firm and gave himself some credit on that head. +His father, no doubt, had been firm too, but that he had expected. +His father had said much. All that about honour and duty had been +very good; but this was certain,—that when a young man had promised +a young woman he ought to keep his word. And he thought that there +were certain changes going on in the management of the world which +his father did not quite understand. Fathers never do quite +understand the changes which are manifest to their sons. Some years +ago it might have been improper that an American girl should be +elevated to the rank of an English Duchess; but now all that was +altered.</p> + +<p>The Duke spent the rest of the day alone, and was not happy in his +solitude. All that Silverbridge had told him was sad to him. He had +taught himself to think that he could love Lady Mabel as an +affectionate father wishes to love his son's wife. He had set himself +to wish to like her, and had been successful. Being most anxious that +his son should marry he had prepared himself to be more than +ordinarily liberal,—to be in every way gracious. His children were +now everything to him, and among his children his son and heir was +the chief. From the moment in which he had heard from Silverbridge +that Lady Mabel was chosen he had given himself up to considering how +he might best promote their interests,—how he might best enable them +to live, with that dignity and splendour which he himself had +unwisely despised. That the son who was to come after him should be +worthy of the place assigned to his name had been, of personal +objects, the nearest to his heart. There had been failures, but still +there had been left room for hope. The boy had been unfortunate at +Eton;—but how many unfortunate boys had become great men! He had +disgraced himself by his folly at college,—but, though some lads +will be men at twenty, others are then little more than children. The +fruit that ripens the soonest is seldom the best. Then had come Tifto +and the racing mania. Nothing could be worse than Tifto and +race-horses. But from that evil Silverbridge had seemed to be made +free by the very disgust which the vileness of the circumstance had +produced. Perhaps Tifto driving a nail into his horse's foot had on +the whole been serviceable. That apostasy from the political creed of +the Pallisers had been a blow,—much more felt than the loss of the +seventy thousand pounds;—but even under that blow he had consoled +himself by thinking that a Conservative patriotic nobleman may serve +his country,—even as a Conservative. In the midst of this he had +felt that the surest resource for his son against evil would be in an +early marriage. If he would marry becomingly, then might everything +still be made pleasant. If his son would marry becomingly nothing +which a father could do should be wanting to add splendour and +dignity to his son's life.</p> + +<p>In thinking of all this he had by no means regarded his own mode of +life with favour. He knew how jejune his life had been,—how devoid +of other interests than that of the public service to which he had +devoted himself. He was thinking of this when he told his son that he +had neither ploughed and sowed or been the owner of sheep or oxen. He +often thought of this, when he heard those around him talking of the +sports, which, though he condemned them as the employments of a life, +he now regarded wistfully, hopelessly as far as he himself was +concerned, as proper recreations for a man of wealth. Silverbridge +should have it all, if he could arrange it. The one thing necessary +was a fitting wife;—and the fitting wife had been absolutely chosen +by Silverbridge himself.</p> + +<p>It may be conceived, therefore, that he was again unhappy. He had +already been driven to acknowledge that these children of +his,—thoughtless, restless, though they seemed to be,—still had a +will of their own. In all which how like they were to their mother! +With her, however, his word, though it might be resisted, had never +lost its authority. When he had declared that a thing should not be +done, she had never persisted in saying that she would do it. But +with his children it was otherwise. What power had he over +Silverbridge,—or for the matter of that, even over his daughter? +They had only to be firm and he knew that he must be conquered.</p> + +<p>"I thought that you liked her," Silverbridge had said to him. How +utterly unconscious, thought the Duke, must the young man have been +of all that his position required of him when he used such an +argument! Liked her! He did like her. She was clever, accomplished, +beautiful, well-mannered,—as far as he knew endowed with all good +qualities! Would not many an old Roman have said as much for some +favourite Greek slave,—for some freedman whom he would admit to his +very heart? But what old Roman ever dreamed of giving his daughter to +the son of a Greek bondsman! Had he done so, what would have become +of the name of a Roman citizen? And was it not his duty to fortify +and maintain that higher, smaller, more precious pinnacle of rank on +which Fortune had placed him and his children?</p> + +<p>Like her! Yes! he liked her certainly. He had by no means always +found that he best liked the companionship of his own order. He had +liked to feel around him the free battle of the House of Commons. He +liked the power of attack and defence in carrying on which an English +politician cares nothing for rank. He liked to remember that the son +of any tradesman might, by his own merits, become a peer of +Parliament. He would have liked to think that his son should share +all these tastes with him. Yes,—he liked Isabel Boncassen. But how +different was that liking from a desire that she should be bone of +his bone, and flesh of his flesh!</p> + + +<p><a name="c62" id="c62"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXII</h3> +<h3>The Brake Country<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"What does your father mean to do about Trumpington Wood?" That was +the first word from Lord Chiltern after he had shaken hands with his +guest.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it all right yet?"</p> + +<p>"All right? No! How can a wood like that be all right without a man +about the place who knows anything of the nature of a fox? In your +grandfather's <span class="nowrap">time—"</span></p> + +<p>"My great-uncle you mean."</p> + +<p>"Well;—your great-uncle!—they used to trap the foxes there. +There was a fellow named Fothergill who used to come there for shooting. +Now it is worse than ever. Nobody shoots there because there is +nothing to shoot. There isn't a keeper. Every scamp is allowed to go +where he pleases, and of course there isn't a fox in the whole place. +My huntsman laughs at me when I ask him to draw it." As the indignant +Master of the Brake Hounds said this the very fire flashed from his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Lady Chiltern expostulating, "Lord Silverbridge +hasn't been in the house above half an hour."</p> + +<p>"What does that matter? When a thing has to be said it had better be +said at once."</p> + +<p>Phineas Finn was staying at Harrington with his intimate friends the +Chilterns, as were also a certain Mr. and Mrs. Maule, both of whom +were addicted to hunting,—the lady, whose maiden name had been +Palliser, being a cousin to Lord Silverbridge. On that day also a +certain Mr. and Mrs. Spooner dined at Harrington. Mr. and Mrs. +Spooner were both very much given to hunting, as seemed to be +necessarily the case with everybody admitted to that house. Mr. +Spooner was a gentleman who might be on the wrong side of fifty, with +a red nose, very vigorous, and submissive in regard to all things but +port-wine. His wife was perhaps something more than half his age, a +stout, hard-riding, handsome woman. She had been the penniless +daughter of a retired officer,—but yet had managed to ride on +whatever animal any one would lend her. Then Mr. Spooner, who had for +many years been part and parcel of the Brake hunt, and who was much +in want of a wife, had, luckily for her, cast his eyes upon Miss +Leatherside. It was thought that upon the whole she made him a good +wife. She hunted four days a week, and he could afford to keep horses +for her. She never flirted, and wanted no one to open gates. Tom +Spooner himself was not always so forward as he used to be; but his +wife was always there and would tell him all that he did not see +himself. And she was a good housewife, taking care that nothing +should be spent lavishly, except upon the stable. Of him, too, and of +his health, she was careful, never scrupling to say a word in season +when he was likely to hurt himself, either among the fences or among +the decanters. "You ain't so young as you were, Tom. Don't think of +doing it." This she would say to him with a loud voice when she would +find him pausing at a fence. Then she would hop over herself and he +would go round. She was "quite a providence to him," as her mother, +old Mrs. Leatherside, would say.</p> + +<p>She was hardly the woman that one would have expected to meet as a +friend in the drawing-room of Lady Chiltern. Lord Chiltern was +perhaps a little rough, but Lady Chiltern was all that a mother, a +wife, and a lady ought to be. She probably felt that some little +apology ought to be made for Mrs. Spooner. "I hope you like hunting," +she said to Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Best of all things," said he, enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"Because you know this is Castle Nimrod, in which nothing is allowed +to interfere with the one great business of life."</p> + +<p>"It's like that; is it?"</p> + +<p>"Quite like that. Lord Chiltern has taken up hunting as his duty in +life, and he does it with his might and main. Not to have a good day +is a misery to him;—not for himself but because he feels that he is +responsible. We had one blank day last year, and I thought that he +never would recover it. It was that unfortunate Trumpington Wood."</p> + +<p>"How he will hate me."</p> + +<p>"Not if you will praise the hounds judiciously. And then there is a +Mr. Spooner coming here to-night. He is the first-lieutenant. He +understands all about the foxes, and all about the farmers. He has +got a wife."</p> + +<p>"Does she understand anything?"</p> + +<p>"She understands him. She is coming too. They have not been married +long, and he never goes anywhere without her."</p> + +<p>"Does she ride?"</p> + +<p>"Well; yes. I never go out myself now because I have so much of it +all at home. But I fancy she does ride a good deal. She will talk +hunting too. If Chiltern were to leave the country I think they ought +to make her master. Perhaps you'll think her rather odd; but really +she is a very good woman."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I shall like her."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will. You know Mr. Finn. He is here. He and my husband +are very old friends. And Adelaide Maule is your cousin. She hunts +too. And so does Mr. Maule,—only not quite so energetically. I think +that is all we shall have."</p> + +<p>Immediately after that all the guests came in at once, and a +discussion was heard as they were passing through the hall. +"No;—that wasn't it," said Mrs. Spooner loudly. "I don't care what +Dick said." Dick Rabbit was the first whip, and seemed to have been +much exercised with the matter now under dispute. "The fox never went +into Grobby Gorse at all. I was there and saw Sappho give him a line +down the bank."</p> + +<p>"I think he must have gone into the gorse, my dear," said her +husband. "The earth was open, you know."</p> + +<p>"I tell you she didn't. You weren't there, and you can't know. I'm +sure it was a vixen by her running. We ought to have killed that fox, +my Lord." Then Mrs. Spooner made her obeisance to her hostess. +Perhaps she was rather slow in doing this, but the greatness of the +subject had been the cause. These are matters so important, that the +ordinary civilities of the world should not stand in their way.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Chiltern?" asked the husband.</p> + +<p>"I say that Mrs. Spooner isn't very often wrong, and that Dick Rabbit +isn't very often right about a fox."</p> + +<p>"It was a pretty run," said Phineas.</p> + +<p>"Just thirty-four minutes," said Mr. Spooner.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-two up to Grobby Gorse," asserted Mrs. Spooner. "The hounds +never hunted a yard after that. Dick hurried them into the gorse, and +the old hound wouldn't stick to his line when she found that no one +believed her."</p> + +<p>This was on a Monday evening, and the Brake hounds went out generally +five days a week. "You'll hunt to-morrow, I suppose?" Lady Chiltern +said to Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"You must hunt to-morrow. Indeed there is nothing else to do. +Chiltern has taken such a dislike to shooting-men, that he won't +shoot pheasants himself. We don't hunt on Wednesdays or Sundays, and +then everybody lies in bed. Here is Mr. Maule, he lies in bed on +other mornings as well, and spends the rest of his day riding about +the country looking for the hounds."</p> + +<p>"Does he ever find them?"</p> + +<p>"What did become of you all to-day?" said Mr. Maule, as he took his +place at the dinner-table. "You can't have drawn any of the coverts +regularly."</p> + +<p>"Then we found our foxes without drawing them," said the Master.</p> + +<p>"We chopped one at Bromleys," said Mr. Spooner.</p> + +<p>"I went there."</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to have known better," said Mrs. Spooner. "When a man +loses the hounds in that country, he ought to go direct to Brackett's +Wood. If you had come on to Brackett's, you'd have seen as good a +thirty-two minutes as ever you wished to ride." When the ladies went +out of the room Mrs. Spooner gave a parting word of advice to her +husband, and to the host. "Now, Tom, don't you drink port-wine. Lord +Chiltern, look after him, and don't let him have port-wine."</p> + +<p>Then there began an altogether different phase of hunting +conversation. As long as the ladies were there it was all very well +to talk of hunting as an amusement; good sport, a thirty minutes or +so, the delight of having a friend in a ditch, or the glory of a +stiff-built rail were fitting subjects for a lighter hour. But now +the business of the night was to begin. The difficulties, the +enmities, the precautions, the resolutions, the resources of the +Brake hunt were to be discussed. And from thence the conversation of +these devotees strayed away to the perils at large to which hunting +in these modern days is subjected;—not the perils of broken necks +and crushed ribs, which can be reduced to an average, and so an end +made of that small matter; but the perils from outsiders, the perils +from new-fangled prejudices, the perils from more modern sports, the +perils from over-cultivation, the perils from extended population, +the perils from increasing railroads, the perils from literary +ignorances, the perils from intruding cads, the perils from +indifferent magnates,—the Duke of Omnium, for instance;—and that +peril of perils, the peril of decrease of funds and increase of +expenditure! The jaunty gentleman who puts on his dainty breeches, +and his pair of boots, and on his single horse rides out on a +pleasant morning to some neighbouring meet, thinking himself a +sportsman, has but a faint idea of the troubles which a few staunch +workmen endure in order that he may not be made to think that his +boots, and his breeches, and his horse, have been in vain.</p> + +<p>A word or two further was at first said about that unfortunate wood +for which Silverbridge at the present felt himself responsible. Finn +said that he was sure the Duke would look to it, if Silverbridge +would mention it. Chiltern simply groaned. Silverbridge said nothing, +remembering how many troubles he had on hand at this moment. Then by +degrees their solicitude worked itself round to the cares of a +neighbouring hunt. The A. R. U. had lost their Master. One Captain +Glomax was going, and the county had been driven to the necessity of +advertising for a successor. "When hunting comes to that," said Lord +Chiltern, "one begins to think that it is in a bad way." It may +always be observed that when hunting-men speak seriously of their +sport, they speak despondingly. Everything is going wrong. Perhaps +the same thing may be remarked in other pursuits. Farmers are +generally on the verge of ruin. Trade is always bad. The Church is in +danger. The House of Lords isn't worth a dozen years' purchase. The +throne totters.</p> + +<p>"An itinerant Master with a carpet-bag never can carry on a country," +said Mr. Spooner.</p> + +<p>"You ought really to have a gentleman of property in the county," +said Lord Chiltern, in a self-deprecating tone. His father's acres +lay elsewhere.</p> + +<p>"It should be someone who has a real stake in the country," replied +Mr. Spooner,—"whom the farmers can respect. Glomax understood +hunting no doubt, but the farmers didn't care for him. If you don't +have the farmers with you you can't have hunting." Then he filled a +glass of port.</p> + +<p>"If you don't approve of Glomax, what do you think of a man like +Major Tifto?" asked Mr. Maule.</p> + +<p>"That was in the Runnymede," said Spooner contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Who is Major Tifto?" asked Lord Chiltern.</p> + +<p>"He is the man," said Silverbridge, boldly, "who owned Prime Minister +with me, when he didn't win the Leger last September."</p> + +<p>"There was a deuce of a row," said Maule. Then Mr. Spooner, who read +his "Bell's Life" and "Field" very religiously, and who never missed +an article in "Bayley's," proceeded to give them an account of +everything that had taken place in the Runnymede Hunt. It mattered +but little that he was wrong in all his details. Narrations always +are. The result to which he came was nearly right when he declared +that the Major had been turned off, that a committee had been +appointed, and that Messrs. Topps and Jawstock had been threatened +with a lawsuit.</p> + +<p>"That comes," said Lord Chiltern solemnly, "of employing men like +Major Tifto in places for which they are radically unfit. I dare say +Major Tifto knew how to handle a pack of hounds,—perhaps almost as +well as my huntsman, Fowler. But I don't think a county would get on +very well which appointed Fowler Master of Hounds. He is an honest +man, and therefore would be better than Tifto. But—it would not do. +It is a position in which a man should at any rate be a gentleman. If +he be not, all those who should be concerned in maintaining the hunt +will turn their backs upon him. When I take my hounds over this man's +ground, and that man's ground, certainly without doing him any good, +I have to think of a great many things. I have to understand that +those whom I cannot compensate by money, I have to compensate by +courtesy. When I shake hands with a farmer and express my obligation +to him because he does not lock his gates, he is gratified. I don't +think any decent farmer would care much for shaking hands with Major +Tifto. If we fall into that kind of thing there must soon be an end +of hunting. Major Tiftos are cheap no doubt; but in hunting, as in +most other things, cheap and nasty go together. If men don't choose +to put their hands in their pockets they had better say so, and give +the thing up altogether. If you won't take any more wine, we'll go to +the ladies. Silverbridge, the trap will start from the door to-morrow +morning precisely at 9.30 <span class="smallcaps">a.m.</span> +Grantingham Cross is fourteen miles." +Then they all left their chairs,—but as they did so Mr. Spooner +finished the bottle of port-wine.</p> + +<p>"I never heard Chiltern speak so much like a book before," said +Spooner to his wife, as she drove him home that night.</p> + +<p>The next morning everybody was ready for a start at half-past nine, +except Mr. Maule,—as to whom his wife declared that she had left him +in bed when she came down to breakfast. "He can never get there if we +don't take him," said Lord Chiltern, who was in truth the most +good-natured man in the world. Five minutes were allowed him, and +then he came down with a large sandwich in one hand and a button-hook +in the other, with which he was prepared to complete his toilet. +"What the deuce makes you always in such a hurry?" were the first +words he spoke as Lord Chiltern got on the box. The Master knew him +too well to argue the point. "Well;—he always is in a hurry," said +the sinner, when his wife accused him of ingratitude.</p> + +<p>"Where's Spooner?" asked the Master when he saw Mrs. Spooner without +her husband at the meet.</p> + +<p>"I knew how it would be when I saw the port-wine," she said in a +whisper that could be heard all round. "He has got it this time +sharp,—in his great toe. We shan't find at Grantingham. They were +cutting wood there last week. If I were you, my Lord, I'd go away to +the Spinnies at once."</p> + +<p>"I must draw the country regularly," muttered the Master.</p> + +<p>The country was drawn regularly, but in vain till about two o'clock. +Not only was there no fox at Grantingham Wood, but none even at the +Spinnies. And at two, Fowler, with an anxious face, held a +consultation with his more anxious Master. Trumpington Wood lay on +their right, and that no doubt would have been the proper draw. "I +suppose we must try it," said Lord Chiltern.</p> + +<p>Old Fowler looked very sour. "You might as well look for a fox under +my wife's bed, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"I dare say we should find one there," said one of the wags of the +hunt. Fowler shook his head, feeling that this was no time for +joking.</p> + +<p>"It ought to be drawn," said Chiltern.</p> + +<p>"Of course you know best, my Lord. I wouldn't touch it,—never no +more. Let 'em all know what the Duke's Wood is."</p> + +<p>"This is Lord Silverbridge, the Duke's son," said Chiltern, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I beg your Lordship's pardon," said Fowler, taking off his cap. "We +shall have a good time coming, some day. Let me trot 'em off to +Michaelmas Daisies, my Lord. I'll be there in thirty minutes." In the +neighbouring parish of St. Michael de Dezier there was a favourite +little gorse which among hunting-men had acquired this unreasonable +name. After a little consideration the Master yielded, and away they +trotted.</p> + +<p>"You'll cross the ford, Fowler?" asked Mrs. Spooner.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am; we couldn't draw the Daisies this afternoon if we +didn't."</p> + +<p>"It'll be up to the horses' bellies."</p> + +<p>"Those who don't like it can go round."</p> + +<p>"They'd never be there in time, Fowler."</p> + +<p>"There's a many, ma'am, as don't mind that. You won't be one to stay +behind." The water was up to the horses' bellies, but, nevertheless, +Mrs. Spooner was at the gorse side when the Daisies were drawn.</p> + +<p>They found and were away in a minute. It was all done so quickly that +Fowler, who had alone gone into the gorse, had hardly time to get out +with his hounds. The fox ran right back, as though he were making for +the Duke's pernicious wood. In the first field or two there was a +succession of gates, and there was not much to do in the way of +jumping. Then the fox, keeping straight ahead, deviated from the line +by which they had come, making for the brook by a more direct course. +The ruck of the horsemen, understanding the matter very well, left +the hounds, and went to the right, riding for the ford. The ford was +of such a nature that but one horse could pass it at a time, and that +one had to scramble through deep mud. "There'll be the devil to pay +there," said Lord Chiltern, going straight with his hounds. Phineas +Finn and Dick Rabbit were close after him. Old Fowler had craftily +gone to the ford; but Mrs. Spooner, who did not intend to be shaken +off, followed the Master, and close with her was Lord Silverbridge. +"Lord Chiltern hasn't got it right," she said. "He can't do it among +these bushes." As she spoke the Master put his horse at the bushes +and then—disappeared. The lady had been right. There was no ground +at that spot to take off from, and the bushes had impeded him. Lord +Chiltern got over, but his horse was in the water. Dick Rabbit and +poor Phineas Finn were stopped in their course by the necessity of +helping the Master in his trouble.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Spooner, the judicious Mrs. Spooner, rode at the stream +where it was, indeed, a little wider, but at a place in which the +horse could see what he was about, and where he could jump from and +to firm ground. Lord Silverbridge followed her gallantly. They both +jumped the brook well, and then were together. "You'll beat me in +pace," said the lady as he rode alongside of her. "Take the fence +ahead straight, and then turn sharp to your right." With all her +faults Mrs. Spooner was a thorough sportsman.</p> + +<p>He did take the fence ahead,—or rather tried to do so. It was a bank +and a double ditch,—not very great in itself, but requiring a horse +to land on the top and go off with a second spring. Our young +friend's nag, not quite understanding the nature of the impediment, +endeavoured to "swallow it whole," as hard-riding men say, and came +down in the further ditch. Silverbridge came down on his head, but +the horse pursued his course,—across a heavily-ploughed field.</p> + +<p>This was very disagreeable. He was not in the least hurt, but it +became his duty to run after his horse. A very few furrows of that +work suffice to make a man think that hunting altogether is a +"beastly sort of thing." Mrs. Spooner's horse, who had shown himself +to be a little less quick of foot than his own, had known all about +the bank and the double ditch, and had, apparently of his own accord, +turned down to the right, either seeing or hearing the hounds, and +knowing that the ploughed ground was to be avoided. But his rider +soon changed his course. She went straight after the riderless horse, +and when Silverbridge had reduced himself to utter speechlessness by +his exertions, brought him back his steed.</p> + +<p>"I am,—I am, I am—so sorry," he struggled to say,—and then as she +held his horse for him he struggled up into the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Keep down this furrow," said Mrs. Spooner, "and we shall be with +them in the second field. There's nobody near them yet."</p> + + +<p><a name="c63" id="c63"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIII</h3> +<h3>"I've Seen 'Em Like That Before"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On this occasion Silverbridge stayed only a few days at Harrington, +having promised Tregear to entertain him at The Baldfaced Stag. It +was here that his horses were standing, and he now intended, by +limiting himself to one horse a day, to mount his friend for a couple +of weeks. It was settled at last that Tregear should ride his +friend's horse one day, hire the next, and so on. "I wonder what +you'll think of Mrs. Spooner?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Why should I think anything of her?"</p> + +<p>"Because I doubt whether you ever saw such a woman before. She does +nothing but hunt."</p> + +<p>"Then I certainly shan't want to see her again."</p> + +<p>"And she talks as I never heard a lady talk before."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't care if I never see her at all."</p> + +<p>"But she is the most plucky and most good-natured human being I ever +saw in my life. After all, hunting is very good fun."</p> + +<p>"Very; if you don't do it so often as to be sick of it."</p> + +<p>"Long as I have known you I don't think I ever saw you ride yet."</p> + +<p>"We used to have hunting down in Cornwall, and thought we did it +pretty well. And I have ridden in South Wales, which I can assure you +isn't an easy thing to do. But you mustn't expect much from me."</p> + +<p>They were both out the Monday and Tuesday in that week, and then +again on the Thursday without anything special in the way of sport. +Lord Chiltern, who had found Silverbridge to be a young man after his +own heart, was anxious that he should come back to Harrington and +bring Tregear with him. But to this Tregear would not assent, +alleging that he should feel himself to be a burden both to Lord and +Lady Chiltern. On the Friday Tregear did not go out, saying that he +would avoid the expense, and on that day there was a good run. "It is +always the way," said Silverbridge. "If you miss a day, it is sure to +be the best thing of the season. An hour and a quarter with hardly +anything you could call a check! It is the only very good thing I +have seen since I have been here. Mrs. Spooner was with them all +through."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you were with Mrs. Spooner."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't far off. I wish you had been there."</p> + +<p>On the next day the meet was at the kennels, close to Harrington, and +Silverbridge drove his friend over in a gig. The Master and Lady +Chiltern, Spooner and Mrs. Spooner, Maule and Mrs. Maule, Phineas +Finn, and a host of others condoled with the unfortunate young man +because he had not seen the good thing yesterday. "We've had it a +little faster once or twice," said Mrs. Spooner with deliberation, +"but never for so long. Then it was straight as a line, and a real +open kill. No changing, you know. We did go through the Daisies, but +I'll swear to its being the same fox." All of which set Tregear +wondering. How could she swear to her fox? And if they had changed, +what did it matter? And if it had been a little crooked, why would it +have been less enjoyable? And was she really so exact a judge of pace +as she pretended to be? "I'm afraid we shan't have anything like that +to-day," she continued. "The wind's in the west, and I never do like +a westerly wind."</p> + +<p>"A little to the north," said her husband, looking round the compass.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the lady, "you never know where the wind comes from. +Now don't you think of taking off your comforter. I won't have it."</p> + +<p>Tregear was riding his friend's favourite hunter, a thoroughbred bay +horse, very much more than up to his rider's weight, and supposed to +be peculiarly good at timber, water, or any well-defined kind of +fence, however high or however broad. They found at a covert near the +kennels, and killed their fox after a burst of a few minutes. They +found again, and having lost their fox, all declared that there was +not a yard of scent. "I always know what a west wind means," said +Mrs. Spooner.</p> + +<p>Then they lunched, and smoked, and trotted about with an apparent +acknowledgement that there wasn't much to be done. It was not right +that they should expect much after so good a thing as they had had +yesterday. At half-past two Mr. Spooner had been sent home by his +Providence, and Mrs. Spooner was calculating that she would be able +to ride her horse again on the Tuesday, when on a sudden the hounds +were on a fox. It turned out afterwards that Dick Rabbit had +absolutely ridden him up among the stubble, and that the hounds had +nearly killed him before he had gone a yard. But the astute animal, +making the best use of his legs till he could get the advantage of +the first ditch, ran, and crept, and jumped absolutely through the +pack. Then there was shouting, and yelling, and riding. The men who +were idly smoking threw away their cigars. Those who were loitering +at a distance lost their chance. But the real sportsmen, always on +the alert, always thinking of the business in hand, always mindful +that there may be at any moment a fox just before the hounds, had a +glorious opportunity of getting "well away." Among these no one was +more intent, or, when the moment came, "better away," than Mrs. +Spooner.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge had been talking to her and had the full advantage of +her care. Tregear was riding behind with Lord Chiltern, who had been +pressing him to come with his friend to Harrington. As soon as the +shouting was heard Chiltern was off like a rocket. It was not only +that he was anxious to "get well away," but that a sense of duty +compelled him to see how the thing was being done. Old Fowler +certainly was a little slow, and Dick Rabbit, with the true +bloody-minded instinct of a whip, was a little apt to bustle a fox +back into covert. And then, when a run commences with a fast rush, +riders are apt to over-ride the hounds, and then the hounds will +over-run the fox. All of which has to be seen to by a Master who +knows his business.</p> + +<p>Tregear followed, and being mounted on a fast horse was soon as +forward as a judicious rider would desire. "Now, Runks, don't you +press on and spoil it all," said Mrs. Spooner to the hard-riding, +objectionable son of old Runks the vet from Rufford. But young Runks +did press on till the Master spoke a word. The word shall not be +repeated, but it was efficacious.</p> + +<p>At that moment there had been a check,—as there is generally after a +short spurt, when fox, hounds, and horsemen get off together, and not +always in the order in which they have been placed here. There is too +much bustle, and the pack becomes disconcerted. But it enabled Fowler +to get up, and by dint of growling at the men and conciliating his +hounds, he soon picked up the scent. "If they'd all stand still for +two minutes and be <span class="nowrap">––––</span> +to them," he muttered aloud to himself, +"they'd 'ave some'at to ride arter. They might go then, and there's +some of 'em 'd soon be nowhere."</p> + +<p>But in spite of Fowler's denunciations there was, of course, another +rush. Runks had slunk away, but by making a little distance was now +again ahead of the hounds. And unfortunately there was half-a-dozen +with him. Lord Chiltern was very wrath. "When he's like that," said +Mrs. Spooner to Tregear, "it's always well to give him a wide berth." +But as the hounds were now running fast it was necessary that even in +taking this precaution due regard should be had to the fox's line. +"He's back for Harrington bushes," said Mrs. Spooner. And as she said +so, she rode at a bank, with a rail at the top of it perhaps a +foot-and-a-half high, with a deep drop into the field beyond. It was +not a very nice place, but it was apparently the only available spot +in the fence. She seemed to know it well, for as she got close to it +she brought her horse almost to a stand and so took it. The horse +cleared the rail, seemed just to touch the bank on the other side, +while she threw herself back almost on to his crupper, and so came +down with perfect ease. But she, knowing that it would not be easy to +all horses, paused a moment to see what would happen.</p> + +<p>Tregear was next to her and was intending to "fly" the fence. But +when he saw Mrs. Spooner pull her horse and pause, he also had to +pull his horse. This he did so as to enable her to take her leap +without danger or encumbrance from him, but hardly so as to bring his +horse to the bank in the same way. It may be doubted whether the +animal he was riding would have known enough and been quiet enough to +have performed the acrobatic manœuvre which had carried Mrs. +Spooner so pleasantly over the peril. He had some idea of this, for +the thought occurred to him that he would turn and ride fast at the +jump. But before he could turn he saw that Silverbridge was pressing +on him. It was thus his only resource to do as Mrs. Spooner had done. +He was too close to the rail, but still he tried it. The horse +attempted to jump, caught his foot against the bar, and of course +went over head-foremost. This probably would have been nothing, had +not Silverbridge with his rushing beast been immediately after them. +When the young lord saw that his friend was down it was too late for +him to stop his course. His horse was determined to have the +fence,—and did have it. He touched nothing, and would have skimmed +in glory over the next field had he not come right down on Tregear +and Tregear's steed. There they were, four of them, two men and two +horses in one confused heap.</p> + +<p>The first person with them was Mrs. Spooner, who was off her horse in +a minute. And Silverbridge too was very soon on his legs. He at any +rate was unhurt, and the two horses were up before Mrs. Spooner was +out of her saddle. But Tregear did not move. "What are we to do?" +said Lord Silverbridge, kneeling down over his friend. "Oh, Mrs. +Spooner, what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>The hunt had passed on and no one else was immediately with them. But +at this moment Dick Rabbit, who had been left behind to bring up his +hounds, appeared above the bank. "Leave your horse and come down," +said Mrs. Spooner. "Here is a gentleman who has hurt himself." Dick +wouldn't leave his horse, but was soon on the scene, having found his +way through another part of the fence.</p> + +<p>"No; he ain't dead," said Dick—"I've seen 'em like that before, and +they wurn't dead. But he's had a hawful squeege." Then he passed his +hand over the man's neck and chest. "There's a lot of 'em is broke," +said he. "We must get him into farmer Tooby's."</p> + +<p>After awhile he was got into farmer Tooby's, when that surgeon came +who is always in attendance on a hunting-field. The surgeon declared +that he had broken his collar-bone, two of his ribs, and his left +arm. And then one of the animals had struck him on the chest as he +raised himself. A little brandy was poured down his throat, but even +under that operation he gave no sign of life. "No, missis, he aren't +dead," said Dick to Mrs. Tooby; "no more he won't die this bout; but +he's got it very nasty."</p> + +<p>That night Silverbridge was sitting by his friend's bedside at ten +o'clock in Lord Chiltern's house. Tregear had spoken a few words, and +the bones had been set. But the doctor had not felt himself justified +in speaking with that assurance which Dick had expressed. The man's +whole body had been bruised by the horse which had fallen on him. The +agony of Silverbridge was extreme, for he knew that it had been his +doing. "You were a little too close," Mrs. Spooner had said to him, +"but nobody saw it and we'll hold our tongues." Silverbridge however +would not hold his tongue. He told everybody how it had happened, how +he had been unable to stop his horse, how he had jumped upon his +friend, and perhaps killed him. "I don't know what I am to do. I am +so miserable," he said to Lady Chiltern with the tears running down +his face.</p> + +<p>The two remained at Harrington and their luggage was brought over +from The Baldfaced Stag. The accident had happened on a Saturday. On +the Sunday there was no comfort. On the Monday the patient's +recollection and mind were re-established, and the doctor thought +that perhaps, with great care, his constitution would pull him +through. On that day the consternation at Harrington was so great +that Mrs. Spooner would not go to the meet. She came over from Spoon +Hall, and spent a considerable part of the day in the sick man's +room. "It's sure to come right if it's above the vitals," she said, +expressing an opinion which had come from much experience. "That is," +she added, "unless the neck's broke. When poor old Jack Stubbs drove +his head into his cap and dislocated his wertebury, of course it was +all up with him." The patient heard this and was seen to smile.</p> + +<p>On the Tuesday there arose the question of family communication. As +the accident would make its way into the papers a message had been +sent to Polwenning to say that various bones had been broken, but +that the patient was upon the whole doing well. Then there had been +different messages backwards and forwards, in all of which there had +been an attempt to comfort old Mrs. Tregear. But on the Tuesday +letters were written. Silverbridge, sitting in his friend's room, +sent a long account of the accident to Mrs. Tregear, giving a list of +the injuries done.</p> + +<p>"Your sister," whispered the poor fellow from his pillow.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—yes;—yes, I will."</p> + +<p>"And Mabel Grex." Silverbridge nodded assent and again went to the +writing-table. He did write to his sister, and in plain words told +her everything. "The doctor says he is not now in danger." Then he +added a postscript. "As long as I am here I will let you know how he +is."</p> + + +<p><a name="c64" id="c64"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIV</h3> +<h3>"I Believe Him to Be a Worthy Young Man"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lady Mary and Mrs. Finn were alone when the tidings came from +Silverbridge. The Duke had been absent, having gone to spend an +unpleasant week in Barsetshire. Mary had taken the opportunity of his +absence to discuss her own prospects at full length. "My dear," said +Mrs. Finn, "I will not express an opinion. How can I after all that +has passed? I have told the Duke the same. I cannot be heart and hand +with either without being false to the other." But still Lady Mary +continued to talk about Tregear.</p> + +<p>"I don't think papa has a right to treat me in this way," she said. +"He wouldn't be allowed to kill me, and this is killing me."</p> + +<p>"While there is life there is hope," said Mrs. Finn.</p> + +<p>"Yes; while there is life there is hope. But one doesn't want to grow +old first."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger of that yet, Mary."</p> + +<p>"I feel very old. What is the use of life without something to make +it sweet? I am not even allowed to hear anything that he is doing. If +he were to ask me, I think I would go away with him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"He would not be foolish enough for that."</p> + +<p>"Because he does not suffer as I do. He has his borough, and his +public life, and a hundred things to think of. I have got nothing but +him. I know he is true;—quite as true as I am. But it is I that have +the suffering in all this. A man can never be like a girl. Papa ought +not to make me suffer like this."</p> + +<p>That took place on the Monday. On the Tuesday Mrs. Finn received a +letter from her husband giving his account of the accident. "As far +as I can learn," he said, "Silverbridge will write about it +to-morrow." Then he went on to give a by no means good account of the +state of the patient. The doctor had declared him to be out of +immediate danger, and had set the broken bones. As tidings would be +sent on the next day she had better say nothing about the accident to +Lady Mary. This letter reached Matching on Tuesday and made the +position of Mrs. Finn very disagreeable. She was bound to carry +herself as though nothing was amiss, knowing, as she did so, the +condition of Mary's lover.</p> + +<p>On the evening of that day Lady Mary was more lively than usual, +though her liveliness was hardly of a happy nature. "I don't know +what papa can expect. I've heard him say a hundred times that to be +in Parliament is the highest place a gentleman can fill, and now +Frank is in Parliament." Mrs. Finn looked at her with beseeching +eyes, as though begging her not to speak of Tregear. "And then to +think of their having that Lord Popplecourt there! I shall always +hate Lady Cantrip, for it was her place. That she should have thought +it possible! Lord Popplecourt! Such a creature! Hyperion to a satyr. +Isn't it true? Oh, that papa should have thought it possible!" Then +she got up, and walked about the room, beating her hands together. +All this time Mrs. Finn knew that Tregear was lying at Harrington +with half his bones broken, and in danger of his life!</p> + +<p>On the next morning Lady Mary received her letters. There were two +lying before her plate when she came into breakfast, one from her +father and the other from Silverbridge. She read that from the Duke +first while Mrs. Finn was watching her. "Papa will be home on +Saturday," she said. "He declares that the people in the borough are +quite delighted with Silverbridge for a member. And he is quite +jocose. 'They used to be delighted with me once,' he says, 'but I +suppose everybody changes.'" Then she began to pour out the tea +before she opened her brother's letter. Mrs. Finn's eyes were still +on her anxiously. "I wonder what Silverbridge has got to say about +the Brake Hunt." Then she opened her letter.</p> + +<p>"Oh;—oh!" she exclaimed,—"Frank has killed himself."</p> + +<p>"Killed himself! Not that. It is not so bad as that."</p> + +<p>"You had heard it before?"</p> + +<p>"How is he, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, heavens! I cannot read it. Do you read it. Tell me all. Tell me +the truth. What am I to do? Where shall I go?" Then she threw up her +hands, and with a loud scream fell on her knees with her head upon +the chair. In the next moment Mrs. Finn was down beside her on the +floor. "Read it; why do you not read it? If you will not read it, +give it to me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Finn did read the letter, which was very short, but still giving +by no means an unfavourable account of the patient. "I am sorry to +say he has broken ever so many bones, and we were very much +frightened about him." Then the writer went into details, from which +a reader who did not read the words carefully might well imagine that +the man's life was still in danger.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Finn did read it all, and did her best to comfort her friend. +"It has been a bad accident," she said, "but it is clear that he is +getting better. Men do so often break their bones, and then seem to +think nothing of it afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Silverbridge says it was his fault. What does he mean?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he was riding too close to Mr. Tregear, and that they came +down together. Of course it is distressing, but I do not think you +need make yourself positively unhappy about it."</p> + +<p>"Would you not be unhappy if it were Mr. Finn?" said Mary, jumping up +from her knees. "I shall go to him. I should go mad if I were to +remain here and know nothing about it but what Silverbridge will tell +me."</p> + +<p>"I will telegraph to Mr. Finn."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Finn won't care. Men are so heartless. They write about each +other just as though it did not signify in the least whether anybody +were dead or alive. I shall go to him."</p> + +<p>"You cannot do that."</p> + +<p>"I don't care now what anybody may think. I choose to be considered +as belonging to him, and if papa were here I would say the same." It +was of course not difficult to make her understand that she could not +go to Harrington, but it was by no means easy to keep her tranquil. +She would send a telegram herself. This was debated for a long time, +till at last Lady Mary insisted that she was not subject to Mrs. +Finn's authority. "If papa were here, even then I would send it." And +she did send it, in her own name, regardless of the fact pointed out +to her by Mrs. Finn, that the people at the post-office would thus +know her secret. "It is no secret," she said. "I don't want it to be +a secret." The telegram went in the following words: "I have heard +it. I am so wretched. Send me one word to say how you are." She got +an answer back, with Tregear's own name to it, on that afternoon. "Do +not be unhappy. I am doing well. Silverbridge is with me."</p> + +<p>On the Thursday Gerald came home from Scotland. He had arranged his +little affair with Lord Percival, not however without some +difficulty. Lord Percival had declared he did not understand I.O.U.'s +in an affair of that kind. He had always thought that gentlemen did +not play for stakes which they could not pay at once. This was not +said to Gerald himself;—or the result would have been calamitous. +Nidderdale was the go-between, and at last arranged it,—not however +till he had pointed out that Percival, having won so large a sum of +money from a lad under twenty-one years of age, was very lucky in +receiving substantial security for its payment.</p> + +<p>Gerald had chosen the period of his father's absence for his return. +It was necessary that the story of the gambling debt should be told +the Duke in February. Silverbridge had explained that to him, and he +had quite understood it. He, indeed, would be up at Oxford in +February, and, in that case, the first horror of the thing would be +left to poor Silverbridge! Thinking of this, Gerald felt that he was +bound to tell his father himself. He resolved that he would do so, +but was anxious to postpone the evil day. He lingered therefore in +Scotland till he knew that his father was in Barsetshire.</p> + +<p>On his arrival he was told of Tregear's accident. "Oh, Gerald; have +you heard?" said his sister. He had not as yet heard, and then the +history was repeated to him. Mary did not attempt to conceal her own +feelings. She was as open with her brother as she had been with Mrs. +Finn.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he'll get over it," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Is that all you say?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What can I say better? I suppose he will. Fellows always do get over +that kind of thing. Herbert de Burgh smashed both his thighs, and now +he can move about again,—of course with crutches."</p> + +<p>"Gerald! How can you be so unfeeling!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean. I always liked Tregear, and I am very +sorry for him. If you would take it a little quieter, I think it +would be better."</p> + +<p>"I could not take it quietly. How can I take it quietly when he is +more than all the world to me?"</p> + +<p>"You should keep that to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—and so let people think that I didn't care, till I broke my +heart! I shall say just the same to papa when he comes home." After +that the brother and sister were not on very good terms with each +other for the remainder of the day.</p> + +<p>On the Saturday there was a letter from Silverbridge to Mrs. Finn. +Tregear was better; but was unhappy because it had been decided that +he could not be moved for the next month. This entailed two +misfortunes on him;—first that of being the enforced guest of +persons who were not,—or, hitherto had not been, his own +friends,—and then his absence from the first meeting of Parliament. +When a gentleman has been in Parliament some years he may be able to +reconcile himself to an obligatory vacation with a calm mind. But +when the honours and glory are new, and the tedium of the benches has +not yet been experienced, then such an accident is felt to be a +grievance. But the young member was out of danger, and was, as +Silverbridge declared, in the very best quarters which could be +provided for a man in such a position.</p> + +<p>Phineas Finn told him all the politics; Mrs. Spooner related to him, +on Sundays and Wednesdays, all the hunting details; while Lady +Chiltern read to him light literature, because he was not allowed to +hold a book in his hand. "I wish it were me," said Gerald. "I wish I +were there to read to him," said Mary.</p> + +<p>Then the Duke came home. "Mary," said he, "I have been distressed to +hear of this accident." This seemed to her to be the kindest word she +had heard from him for a long time. "I believe him to be a worthy +young man. I am sorry that he should be the cause of so much sorrow +to you—and to me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I was sorry for his accident," she replied, after pausing +awhile; "but now that he is better I will not call him a cause of +sorrow—to me." Then the Duke said nothing further about Tregear; nor +did she.</p> + +<p>"So you have come at last," he said to Gerald. That was the first +greeting,—to which the son responded by an awkward smile. But in the +course of the evening he walked straight up to his father—"I have +something to tell you, sir," said he.</p> + +<p>"Something to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Something that will make you very angry."</p> + + +<p><a name="c65" id="c65"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXV</h3> +<h3>"Do You Ever Think What Money Is?"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Gerald told his story, standing bolt upright, and looking his father +full in the face as he told it. "You lost three thousand four hundred +pounds at one sitting to Lord Percival—at cards!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"In Lord Nidderdale's house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Nidderdale wasn't playing. It wasn't his fault."</p> + +<p>"Who were playing?"</p> + +<p>"Percival, and Dolly Longstaff, and Jack Hindes,—and I. Popplecourt +was playing at first."</p> + +<p>"Lord Popplecourt!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. But he went away when he began to lose."</p> + +<p>"Three thousand four hundred pounds! How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am just twenty-one."</p> + +<p>"You are beginning the world well, Gerald! What is the engagement +which Silverbridge has made with Lord Percival?"</p> + +<p>"To pay him the money at the end of next month."</p> + +<p>"What had Silverbridge to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir. I wrote to Silverbridge because I didn't know what to +do. I knew he would stand to me."</p> + +<p>"Who is to stand to either of you if you go on thus I do not know." +To this Gerald of course made no reply, but an idea came across his +mind that he knew who would stand both to himself and his brother. +"How did Silverbridge mean to get the money?"</p> + +<p>"He said he would ask you. But I thought that I ought to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"All what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Are there other debts?" To this Gerald made no reply. "Other +gambling debts."</p> + +<p>"No, sir;—not a shilling of that kind. I have never played before."</p> + +<p>"Does it ever occur to you that going on at that rate you may very +soon lose all the fortune that will ever come to you? You were not +yet of age and you lost three thousand four hundred pounds at cards +to a man whom you probably knew to be a professed gambler!" The Duke +seemed to wait for a reply, but poor Gerald had not a word to say. +"Can you explain to me what benefit you proposed to yourself when you +played for such stakes as that?"</p> + +<p>"I hoped to win back what I had lost."</p> + +<p>"Facilis descensus Averni!" said the Duke, shaking his head. "Noctes +atque dies patet atri janua Ditis." No doubt, he thought, that as his +son was at Oxford, admonitions in Latin would serve him better than +in his native tongue. But Gerald, when he heard the grand hexameter +rolled out in his father's grandest tone, entertained a comfortable +feeling that the worst of the interview was over. "Win back what you +had lost! Do you think that that is the common fortune of young +gamblers when they fall among those who are more experienced than +themselves?"</p> + +<p>"One goes on, sir, without reflecting."</p> + +<p>"Go on without reflecting! Yes; and where to? where to? Oh Gerald, +where to? Whither will such progress without reflection take you?" +"He means—to the devil," the lad said inwardly to himself, without +moving his lips. "There is but one goal for such going on as that. I +can pay three thousand four hundred pounds for you certainly. I think +it hard that I should have to do so; but I can do it,—and I will do +it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," murmured Gerald.</p> + +<p>"But how can I wash your young mind clean from the foul stain which +has already defiled it? Why did you sit down to play? Was it to win +the money which these men had in their pockets?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be that a rational being should consent to risk the money +he has himself,—to risk even the money which he has not +himself,—without a desire to win that which as yet belongs to his +opponents. You desired to win."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I did hope to win."</p> + +<p>"And why? Why did you want to extract their property from their +pockets, and to put it into your own? That the footpad on the road +should have such desire when, with his pistol, he stops the traveller +on his journey we all understand. And we know what we think of the +footpad,—and what we do to him. He is a poor creature, who from his +youth upwards has had no good thing done for him, uneducated, an +outcast, whom we should pity more than we despise him. We take him as +a pest which we cannot endure, and lock him up where he can harm us +no more. On my word, Gerald, I think that the so-called gentleman who +sits down with the deliberate intention of extracting money from the +pockets of his antagonists, who lays out for himself that way of +repairing the shortcomings of fortune, who looks to that resource as +an aid to his means,—is worse, much worse, than the public robber! +He is meaner, more cowardly, and has I think in his bosom less of the +feelings of an honest man. And he probably has been educated,—as you +have been. He calls himself a gentleman. He should know black from +white. It is considered terrible to cheat at cards."</p> + +<p>"There was nothing of that, sir."</p> + +<p>"The man who plays and cheats has fallen low indeed."</p> + +<p>"I understand that, sir."</p> + +<p>"He who plays that he may make an income, but does not cheat, has +fallen nearly as low. Do you ever think what money is?"</p> + +<p>The Duke paused so long, collecting his own thoughts and thinking of +his own words, that Gerald found himself obliged to answer. "Cheques, +and sovereigns, and bank-notes," he replied with much hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Money is the reward of labour," said the Duke, "or rather, in the +shape it reaches you, it is your representation of that reward. You +may earn it yourself, or, as is, I am afraid, more likely to be the +case with you, you may possess it honestly as prepared for you by the +labour of others who have stored it up for you. But it is a commodity +of which you are bound to see that the source is not only clean but +noble. You would not let Lord Percival give you money."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't do that, sir, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Nor would you take it. There is nothing so comfortable as +money,—but nothing so defiling if it be come by unworthily; nothing +so comfortable, but nothing so noxious if the mind be allowed to +dwell upon it constantly. If a man have enough, let him spend it +freely. If he wants it, let him earn it honestly. Let him do +something for it, so that the man who pays it to him may get its +value. But to think that it may be got by gambling, to hope to live +after that fashion, to sit down with your fingers almost in your +neighbour's pockets, with your eye on his purse, trusting that you +may know better than he some studied calculations as to the pips +concealed in your hands, praying to the only god you worship that +some special card may be vouchsafed to you,—that I say is to have +left far, far behind you, all nobility, all gentleness, all manhood! +Write me down Lord Percival's address and I will send him the money."</p> + +<p>Then the Duke wrote a cheque for the money claimed and sent it with a +note, as follows:—"The Duke of Omnium presents his compliments to +Lord Percival. The Duke has been informed by Lord Gerald Palliser +that Lord Percival has won at cards from him the sum of three +thousand four hundred pounds. The Duke now encloses a cheque for that +amount, and requests that the document which Lord Percival holds from +Lord Silverbridge as security for the amount, may be returned to Lord +Gerald." Let the noble gambler have his prey. He was little +solicitous about that. If he could only so operate on the mind of +this son,—so operate on the minds of both his sons, as to make them +see the foolishness of folly, the ugliness of what is mean, the +squalor and dirt of ignoble pursuits, then he could easily pardon +past faults. If it were half his wealth, what would it signify if he +could teach his children to accept those lessons without which no man +can live as a gentleman, let his rank be the highest known, let his +wealth be as the sands, his fashion unrivalled?</p> + +<p>The word or two which his daughter had said to him, declaring that +she still took pride in her lover's love, and then this new +misfortune on Gerald's part, upset him greatly. He almost sickened of +politics when he thought of his domestic bereavement and his domestic +misfortunes. How completely had he failed to indoctrinate his +children with the ideas by which his own mind was fortified and +controlled! Nothing was so base to him as a gambler, and they had +both commenced their career by gambling. From their young boyhood +nothing had seemed so desirable to him as that they should be +accustomed by early training to devote themselves to the service of +their country. He saw other young noblemen around him who at eighteen +were known as debaters at their colleges, or at twenty-five were +already deep in politics, social science, and educational projects. +What good would all his wealth or all his position do for his +children if their minds could rise to nothing beyond the shooting of +deer and the hunting of foxes? There was young Lord Buttercup, the +son of the Earl of Woolantallow, only a few months older than +Silverbridge,—who was already a junior lord, and as constant at his +office, or during the Session on the Treasury Bench, as though there +were not a pack of hounds or a card-table in Great Britain! Lord +Buttercup, too, had already written an article in "The Fortnightly" +on the subject of Turkish finance. How long would it be before +Silverbridge would write an article, or Gerald sign his name in the +service of the public?</p> + +<p>And then those proposed marriages,—as to which he was beginning to +know that his children would be too strong for him! Anxious as he was +that both his sons should be permeated by Liberal politics, studious +as he had ever been to teach them that the highest duty of those high +in rank was to use their authority to elevate those beneath them, +still he was hardly less anxious to make them understand that their +second duty required them to maintain their own position. It was by +feeling this second duty,—by feeling it and performing it,—that +they would be enabled to perform the rest. And now both Silverbridge +and his girl were bent upon marriages by which they would depart out +of their own order! Let Silverbridge marry whom he might, he could +not be other than heir to the honours of his family. But by his +marriage he might either support or derogate from these honours. And +now, having at first made a choice that was good, he had altered his +mind from simple freak, captivated by a pair of bright eyes and an +arch smile; and without a feeling in regard to his family, was +anxious to take to his bosom the granddaughter of an American +day-labourer!</p> + +<p>And then his girl,—of whose beauty he was so proud, from whose +manners, and tastes, and modes of life he had expected to reap those +good things, in a feminine degree, which his sons as young men seemed +so little fitted to give him! By slow degrees he had been brought +round to acknowledge that the young man was worthy. Tregear's conduct +had been felt by the Duke to be manly. The letter he had written was +a good letter. And then he had won for himself a seat in the House of +Commons. When forced to speak of him to this girl he had been driven +by justice to call him worthy. But how could he serve to support and +strengthen that nobility, the endurance and perpetuation of which +should be the peculiar care of every Palliser?</p> + +<p>And yet as the Duke walked about his room he felt that his opposition +either to the one marriage or to the other was vain. Of course they +would marry according to their wills.</p> + +<p>That same night Gerald wrote to his brother before he went to bed, as +follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +Silver</span>,—I was awfully obliged to you for sending me +the I.O.U. for that brute Percival. He only sneered when +he took it, and would have said something disagreeable, +but that he saw that I was in earnest. I know he did say +something to Nid, only I can't find out what. Nid is an +easy-going fellow, and, as I saw, didn't want to have a +rumpus.</p> + +<p>But now what do you think I've done? Directly I got home I +told the governor all about it! As I was in the train I +made up my mind that I would. I went slap at it. If there +is anything that never does any good, it's craning. I did +it all at one rush, just as though I was swallowing a dose +of physic. I wish I could tell you all that the governor +said, because it was really tip-top. What is a fellow to +get by playing high,—a fellow like you and me? I didn't +want any of that beast's money. I don't suppose he had +any. But one's dander gets up, and one doesn't like to be +done, and so it goes on. I shall cut that kind of thing +altogether. You should have heard the governor spouting +Latin! And then the way he sat upon Percival, without +mentioning the fellow's name! I do think it mean to set +yourself to work to win money at cards,—and it is awfully +mean to lose more than you have got to pay.</p> + +<p>Then at the end the governor said he'd send the beast a +cheque for the amount. You know his way of finishing up, +just like two fellows fighting;—when one has awfully +punished the other he goes up and shakes hands with him. +He did pitch into me,—not abusing me, nor even saying a +word about the money, which he at once promised to pay, +but laying it on to gambling with a regular +cat-o'-nine-tails. And then there was an end of it. He +just asked the fellow's address and said that he would +send him the money. I will say this;—I don't think +there's a greater brick than the governor out anywhere.</p> + +<p>I am awfully sorry about Tregear. I can't quite make out +how it happened. I suppose you were too near him, and +Melrose always does rush at his fences. One fellow +shouldn't be too near another fellow,—only it so often +happens that it can't be helped. It's just like anything +else, if nothing comes of it then it's all right. But if +anybody comes to grief then he has got to be pitched into. +Do you remember when I nearly cut over old Sir Simon +Slobody? Didn't I hear about it!</p> + +<p>I am awfully glad you didn't smash up Tregear altogether, +because of Mary. I am quite sure it is no good anybody +setting up his back against that. It's one of the things +that have got to be. You always have said that he is a +good fellow. If so, what's the harm? At any rate it has +got to be.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Your affectionate Brother,</p> + +<p class="ind15">GERALD.</p> + +<p class="noindent">I go up in about a week.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c66" id="c66"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVI</h3> +<h3>The Three Attacks<br /> </h3> + + +<p>During the following week the communications between Harrington and +Matching were very frequent. There were no further direct messages +between Tregear and Lady Mary, but she heard daily of his progress. +The Duke was conscious of the special interest which existed in his +house as to the condition of the young man, but, after his arrival, +not a word was spoken for some days between him and his daughter on +the subject. Then Gerald went back to his college, and the Duke made +his preparations for going up to town and making some attempt at +parliamentary activity.</p> + +<p>It was by no concert that an attack was made upon him from three +quarters at once as he was preparing to leave Matching. On the Sunday +morning during church time,—for on that day Lady Mary went to her +devotions alone,—Mrs. Finn was closeted for an hour with the Duke in +his study. "I think you ought to be aware," she said to the Duke, +"that though I trust Mary implicitly and know her to be thoroughly +high principled, I cannot be responsible for her, if I remain with +her here."</p> + +<p>"I do not quite follow your meaning."</p> + +<p>"Of course there is but one matter on which there can, probably, be +any difference between us. If she should choose to write to Mr. +Tregear, or to send him a message, or even to go to him, I could not +prevent it."</p> + +<p>"Go to him!" exclaimed the horrified Duke.</p> + +<p>"I merely suggest such a thing in order to make you understand that I +have absolutely no control over her."</p> + +<p>"What control have I?"</p> + +<p>"Nay; I cannot define that. You are her father, and she acknowledges +your authority. She regards me as a friend—and as such treats me +with the sweetest affection. Nothing can be more gratifying than her +manner to me personally."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be so."</p> + +<p>"She has thoroughly won my heart. But still I know that if there were +a difference between us she would not obey me. Why should she?"</p> + +<p>"Because you hold my deputed authority."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Duke, that goes for very little anywhere. No one can depute +authority. It comes too much from personal accidents, and too little +from reason or law to be handed over to others. Besides, I fear, that +on one matter concerning her you and I are not agreed."</p> + +<p>"I shall be sorry if it be so."</p> + +<p>"I feel that I am bound to tell you my opinion."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes."</p> + +<p>"You think that in the end Lady Mary will allow herself to be +separated from Tregear. I think that in the end they will become man +and wife."</p> + +<p>This seemed to the Duke to be not quite so bad as it might have been. +Any speculation as to results were very different from an expressed +opinion as to propriety. Were he to tell the truth as to his own +mind, he might perhaps have said the same thing. But one is not to +relax in one's endeavours to prevent that which is wrong, because one +fears that the wrong may be ultimately perpetrated. "Let that be as +it may," he said, "it cannot alter my duty."</p> + +<p>"Nor mine, Duke, if I may presume to think that I have a duty in this +matter."</p> + +<p>"That you should encounter the burden of the duty binds me to you for +ever."</p> + +<p>"If it be that they will certainly be married one day—"</p> + +<p>"Who has said that? Who has admitted that?"</p> + +<p>"If it be so; if it seems to me that it must be so,—then how can I +be anxious to prolong her sufferings? She does suffer terribly." Upon +this the Duke frowned, but there was more of tenderness in his frown +than in the hard smile which he had hitherto worn. "I do not know +whether you see it all." He well remembered all that he had seen when +he and Mary were travelling together. "I see it; and I do not pass +half an hour with her without sorrowing for her." On hearing this he +sighed and turned his face away. "Girls are so different! There are +many who though they be genuinely in love, though their natures are +sweet and affectionate, are not strong enough to support their own +feelings in resistance to the will of those who have authority over +them." Had it been so with his wife? At this moment all the former +history passed through his mind. "They yield to that which seems to +be inevitable, and allow themselves to be fashioned by the purposes +of others. It is well for them often that they are so plastic. +Whether it would be better for her that she should be so I will not +say."</p> + +<p>"It would be better," said the Duke doggedly.</p> + +<p>"But such is not her nature. She is as determined as ever."</p> + +<p>"I may be determined too."</p> + +<p>"But if at last it will be of no use,—if it be her fate either to be +married to this man or die of a broken +<span class="nowrap">heart—"</span></p> + +<p>"What justifies you in saying that? How can you torture me by such a +threat?"</p> + +<p>"If I think so, Duke, I am justified. Of late I have been with her +daily,—almost hourly. I do not say that this will kill her now,—in +her youth. It is not often, I fancy, that women die after that +fashion. But a broken heart may bring the sufferer to the grave after +a lapse of many years. How will it be with you if she should live +like a ghost beside you for the next twenty years, and you should +then see her die, faded and withered before her time,—all her life +gone without a joy,—because she had loved a man whose position in +life was displeasing to you? Would the ground on which the sacrifice +had been made then justify itself to you? In thus performing your +duty to your order would you feel satisfied that you had performed +that to your child?"</p> + +<p>She had come there determined to say it all,—to liberate her own +soul as it were,—but had much doubted the spirit in which the Duke +would listen to her. That he would listen to her she was sure,—and +then if he chose to cast her out, she would endure his wrath. It +would not be to her now as it had been when he accused her of +treachery. But, nevertheless, bold as she was and independent, he had +imbued her, as he did all those around him, with so strong a sense of +his personal dignity, that when she had finished she almost trembled +as she looked in his face. Since he had asked her how she could +justify to herself the threats which she was using he had sat still +with his eyes fixed upon her. Now, when she had done, he was in no +hurry to speak. He rose slowly and walking towards the fireplace +stood with his back towards her, looking down upon the fire. She was +the first to speak again. "Shall I leave you now?" she said in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it will be better," he answered. His voice, too, was very +low. In truth he was so moved that he hardly knew how to speak at +all. Then she rose and was already on her way to the door when he +followed her. "One moment, if you please," he said almost sternly. "I +am under a debt of gratitude to you of which I cannot express my +sense in words. How far I may agree with you, and where I may +disagree, I will not attempt to point out to you now."</p> + +<p>"Oh no."</p> + +<p>"But all that you have troubled yourself to think and to feel in this +matter, and all that true friendship has compelled you to say to me, +shall be written down in the tablets of my memory."</p> + +<p>"Duke!"</p> + +<p>"My child has at any rate been fortunate in securing the friendship +of such a friend." Then he turned back to the fireplace, and she was +constrained to leave the room without another word.</p> + +<p>She had determined to make the best plea in her power for Mary; and +while she was making the plea had been almost surprised by her own +vehemence; but the greater had been her vehemence, the stronger, she +thought, would have been the Duke's anger. And as she had watched the +workings of his face she had felt for a moment that the vials of his +wrath were about to be poured out upon her. Even when she left the +room she almost believed that had he not taken those moments for +consideration at the fireplace his parting words would have been +different. But, as it was, there could be no question now of her +departure. No power was left to her of separating herself from Lady +Mary. Though the Duke had not as yet acknowledged himself to be +conquered, there was no doubt to her now but that he would be +conquered. And she, either here or in London, must be the girl's +nearest friend up to the day when she should be given over to Mr. +Tregear.</p> + +<p>That was one of the three attacks which were made upon the Duke +before he went up to his parliamentary duties.</p> + +<p>The second was as follows: Among the letters on the following morning +one was brought to him from Tregear. It is hoped that the reader will +remember the lover's former letter and the very unsatisfactory answer +which had been sent to it. Nothing could have been colder, less +propitious, or more inveterately hostile than the reply. As he lay in +bed with his broken bones at Harrington he had ample time for +thinking over all this. He knew every word of the Duke's distressing +note by heart, and had often lashed himself to rage as he had +repeated it. But he could effect nothing by showing his anger. He +must go on and still do something. Since the writing of that letter +he had done something. He had got his seat in Parliament. And he had +secured the interest of his friend Silverbridge. This had been +partially done at Polwenning; but the accident in the Brake country +had completed the work. The brother had at last declared himself in +his friend's favour. "Of course I should be glad to see it," he had +said while sitting by Tregear's bedside. "The worst is that +everything does seem to go against the poor governor."</p> + +<p>Then Tregear made up his mind that he would write another letter. +Personally he was not in the best condition for doing this as he was +lying in bed with his left arm tied up, and with straps and bandages +all round his body. But he could sit up in bed, and his right hand +and arm were free. So he declared to Lady Chiltern his purpose of +writing a letter. She tried to dissuade him gently and offered to be +his secretary. But when he assured her that no secretary could write +this letter for him she understood pretty well what would be the +subject of the letter. With considerable difficulty Tregear wrote his +letter.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Lord +Duke</span>,—[On this occasion he left out the epithet +which he had before used]</p> + +<p>Your Grace's reply to my last letter was not encouraging, +but in spite of your prohibition I venture to write to you +again. If I had the slightest reason for thinking that +your daughter was estranged from me, I would not persecute +either you or her. But if it be true that she is as +devoted to me as I am to her, can I be wrong in pleading +my cause? Is it not evident to you that she is made of +such stuff that she will not be controlled in her +choice,—even by your will?</p> + +<p>I have had an accident in the hunting-field and am now +writing from Lord Chiltern's house, where I am confined to +bed. But I think you will understand me when I say that +even in this helpless condition I feel myself constrained +to do something. Of course I ask for nothing from you on +my own behalf,—but on her behalf may I not add my prayers +to hers?</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind6">I have the honour to be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">Your Grace's very faithful Servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Francis +Tregear</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This coming alone would perhaps have had no effect. The Duke had +desired the young man not to address him again; and the young man had +disobeyed him. No mere courtesy would now have constrained him to +send any reply to this further letter. But coming as it did while his +heart was still throbbing with the effects of Mrs. Finn's words, it +was allowed to have a certain force. The argument used was a true +argument. His girl was devoted to the man who sought her hand. Mrs. +Finn had told him that sooner or later he must yield,—unless he was +prepared to see his child wither and fade at his side. He had once +thought that he would be prepared even for that. He had endeavoured +to strengthen his own will by arguing with himself that when he saw a +duty plainly before him, he should cleave to that let the results be +what they might. But that picture of her face withered and wan after +twenty years of sorrowing had had its effect upon his heart. He even +made excuses within his own breast in the young man's favour. He was +in Parliament now, and what may not be done for a young man in +Parliament? Altogether the young man appeared to him in a light +different from that through which he had viewed the presumptuous, +arrogant, utterly unjustifiable suitor who had come to him, now +nearly a year since, in Carlton Terrace.</p> + +<p>He went to breakfast with Tregear's letter in his pocket, and was +then gracious to Mrs. Finn, and tender to his daughter. "When do you +go, papa?" Mary asked.</p> + +<p>"I shall take the 11.45 train. I have ordered the carriage at a +quarter before eleven."</p> + +<p>"May I go to the train with you, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; I shall be delighted."</p> + +<p>"Papa!" Mary said as soon as she found herself seated beside her +father in the carriage.</p> + +<p>"My dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa!" and she threw herself on to his breast. He put his arm +round her and kissed her,—as he would have had so much delight in +doing, as he would have done so often before, had there not been this +ground of discord. She was very sweet to him. It had never seemed to +him that she had disgraced herself by loving Tregear—but that a +great misfortune had fallen upon her. Silverbridge when he had gone +into a racing partnership with Tifto, and Gerald when he had played +for money which he did not possess, had—degraded themselves in his +estimation. He would not have used such a word; but it was his +feeling. They were less noble, less pure than they might have been, +had they kept themselves free from such stain. But this +girl,—whether she should live and fade by his side, or whether she +should give her hand to some fitting noble suitor,—or even though +she might at last become the wife of this man who loved her, would +always have been pure. It was sweet to him to have something to +caress. Now in the solitude of his life, as years were coming on him, +he felt how necessary it was that he should have someone who would +love him. Since his wife had left him he had been debarred from these +caresses by the necessity of showing his antagonism to her dearest +wishes. It had been his duty to be stern. In all his words to his +daughter he had been governed by a conviction that he never ought to +allow the duty of separating her from her lover to be absent from his +mind. He was not prepared to acknowledge that that duty had +ceased;—but yet there had crept over him a feeling that as he was +half conquered, why should he not seek some recompense in his +daughter's love? "Papa," she said, "you do not hate me?"</p> + +<p>"Hate you, my darling?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am disobedient. Oh, papa, I cannot help it. He should not +have come. He should not have been let to come." He had not a word to +say to her. He could not as yet bring himself to tell her,—that it +should be as she desired. Much less could he now argue with her as to +the impossibility of such a marriage as he had done on former +occasions when the matter had been discussed. He could only press his +arm tightly round her waist, and be silent. "It cannot be altered +now, papa. Look at me. Tell me that you love me."</p> + +<p>"Have you doubted my love?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa,—but I would do anything to make you happy; anything that +I could do. Papa, you do not want me to marry Lord Popplecourt?"</p> + +<p>"I would not have you marry any man without loving him."</p> + +<p>"I never can love anybody else. That is what I wanted you to know, +papa."</p> + +<p>To this he made no reply, nor was there anything else said upon the +subject before the carriage drove up to the railway station. "Do not +get out, dear," he said, seeing that her eyes had been filled with +tears. "It is not worth while. God bless you, my child! You will be +up in London I hope in a fortnight, and we must try to make the house +a little less dull for you."</p> + +<p>And so he had encountered the third attack.</p> + +<p>Lady Mary, as she was driven home, recovered her spirits wonderfully. +Not a word had fallen from her father which she could use hereafter +as a refuge from her embarrassments. He had made her no promise. He +had assented to nothing. But there had been something in his manner, +in his gait, in his eye, in the pressure of his arm, which made her +feel that her troubles would soon be at an end.</p> + +<p>"I do love you so much," she said to Mrs. Finn late on that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that, dear."</p> + +<p>"I shall always love you,—because you have been on my side all +through."</p> + +<p>"No, Mary;—that is not so."</p> + +<p>"I know it is so. Of course you have to be wise because you are +older. And papa would not have you here with me if you were not wise. +But I know you are on my side,—and papa knows it too. And someone +else shall know it some day."</p> + + +<p><a name="c67" id="c67"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVII</h3> +<h3>"He Is Such a Beast"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Silverbridge remained hunting in the Brake country till a few +days before the meeting of Parliament, and had he been left to +himself he would have had another week in the country and might +probably have overstayed the opening day; but he had not been left to +himself. In the last week in January an important despatch reached +his hands, from no less important a person than Sir Timothy Beeswax, +suggesting to him that he should undertake the duty of seconding the +address in the House of Commons. When the proposition first reached +him it made his hair stand on end. He had never yet risen to his feet +in the House. He had spoken at those election meetings in Cornwall, +and had found it easy enough. After the first or second time he had +thought it good fun. But he knew that standing up in the House of +Commons would be different from that. Then there would be the dress! +"I should so hate to fig myself out and look like a guy," he said to +Tregear, to whom of course he confided the offer that was made to +him. Tregear was very anxious that he should accept it. "A man should +never refuse anything of that kind which comes in his way," Tregear +said.</p> + +<p>"It is only because I am the governor's son," Silverbridge pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Partly so perhaps. But if it be altogether so, what of that? Take +the goods the gods provide you. Of course all these things which our +ambition covets are easier to Duke's sons than to others. But not on +that account should a Duke's son refuse them. A man when he sees a +rung vacant on the ladder should always put his feet there."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," said Silverbridge. "If I thought this was all +fair sailing I'd do it. I should feel certain that I should come a +cropper, but still I'd try it. As you say, a fellow should try. But +it's all meant as a blow at the governor. Old Beeswax thinks that if +he can get me up to swear that he and his crew are real first-chop +hands, that will hit the governor hard. It's as much as saying to the +governor,—'This chap belongs to me, not to you.' That's a thing I +won't go in for." Then Tregear counselled him to write to his father +for advice, and at the same time to ask Sir Timothy to allow him a +day or two for consideration. This counsel he took. His letter +reached his father two days before he left Matching. In answer to it +there came first a telegram begging Silverbridge to be in London on +the Monday, and then a letter, in which the Duke expressed himself as +being anxious to see his son before giving a final answer to the +question. Thus it was that Silverbridge had been taken away from his +hunting.</p> + +<p>Isabel Boncassen, however, was now in London, and from her it was +possible that he might find consolation. He had written to her soon +after reaching Harrington, telling her that he had had it all out +with the governor. "There is a good deal that I can only tell you +when I see you," he said. Then he assured her with many lover's +protestations that he was and always would be till death altogether +her own most loving S. To this he had received an answer by return of +post. She would be delighted to see him up in town,—as would her +father and mother. They had now got a comfortable house in Brook +Street. And then she signed herself his sincere friend, Isabel. +Silverbridge thought that it was cold, and remembered certain scraps +in another feminine handwriting in which more passion was expressed. +Perhaps this was the way with American young ladies when they were in +love.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Duke, "I am glad that you have come up at once, as +Sir Timothy should have his answer without further delay."</p> + +<p>"But what shall I say?"</p> + +<p>The Duke, though he had already considered the matter very seriously, +nevertheless took a few minutes to consider it again. "The offer," +said he, "must be acknowledged as very flattering."</p> + +<p>"But the circumstances are not usual."</p> + +<p>"It cannot often be the case that a minister should ask the son of +his keenest political opponent to render him such a service. But, +however, we will put that aside."</p> + +<p>"Not quite, sir."</p> + +<p>"For the present we will put that on one side. Not looking at the +party which you may be called upon to support, having for the moment +no regard to this or that line in politics, there is no opening to +the real duties of parliamentary life which I would sooner see +accorded to you than this."</p> + +<p>"But if I were to break down?" Talking to his father he could not +quite venture to ask what might happen if he were to "come a +cropper."</p> + +<p>"None but the brave deserve the fair," said the Duke slapping his +hands upon the table. "Why, if we fail, 'We fail! But screw your +courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail.' What high point +would ever be reached if caution such as that were allowed to +prevail? What young men have done before cannot you do? I have no +doubt of your capacity. None."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you, sir?" said Silverbridge, considerably gratified,—and +also surprised.</p> + +<p>"None in the least. But, perhaps, some of your diligence."</p> + +<p>"I could learn it by heart, sir,—if you mean that."</p> + +<p>"But I don't mean that; or rather I mean much more than that. You +have first to realise in your mind the thing to be said, and then the +words in which you should say it, before you come to learning by +heart."</p> + +<p>"Some of them I suppose would tell me what to say."</p> + +<p>"No doubt with your inexperience it would be unfit that you should be +left entirely to yourself. But I would wish you to know,—perhaps I +should say to feel,—that the sentiments to be expressed by you were +just."</p> + +<p>"I should have to praise Sir Timothy."</p> + +<p>"Not that necessarily. But you would have to advocate that course in +Parliament which Sir Timothy and his friends have taken and propose +to take."</p> + +<p>"But I hate him like poison."</p> + +<p>"There need be no personal feeling in the matter. I remember that +when I moved the address in your house Mr. Mildmay was Prime +Minister,—a man for whom my regard and esteem were unbounded,—who +had been in political matters the preceptor of my youth, whom as a +patriotic statesman I almost worshipped, whom I now remember as a man +whose departure from the arena of politics left the country very +destitute. No one has sprung up since like to him,—or hardly second +to him. But in speaking on so large a subject as the policy of a +party, I thought it beneath me to eulogise a man. The same policy +reversed may keep you silent respecting Sir Timothy."</p> + +<p>"I needn't of course say what I think about him."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you do agree with Sir Timothy as to his general policy? On +no other condition can you undertake such a duty."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have voted with him."</p> + +<p>"So I have observed,—not so regularly perhaps as Mr. Roby would have +desired." Mr. Roby was the Conservative whip.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose the people at Silverbridge expect me to support him."</p> + +<p>"I hardly know how that may be. They used to be contented with my +poor services. No doubt they feel they have changed for the better."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't say that, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am bound to suppose that they think so, because when the matter +was left in their own hands they at once elected a Conservative. You +need not fear that you will offend them by seconding the address. +They will probably feel proud to see their young member brought +forward on such an occasion; as I shall be proud to see my son."</p> + +<p>"You would if it were on the other side, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Silverbridge, yes; I should be very proud if it were on the +other side. But there is a useful old adage which bids us not cry for +spilt milk. You have a right to your opinions, though perhaps I may +think that in adopting what I must call new opinions you were a +little precipitate. We cannot act together in politics. But not the +less on that account do I wish to see you take an active and useful +part on that side to which you have attached yourself." As he said +this he rose from his seat and spoke with emphasis, as though he were +addressing some imaginary Speaker or a house of legislators around. +"I shall be proud to hear you second the address. If you do it as +gracefully and as fitly as I am sure you may if you will give +yourself the trouble, I shall hear you do it with infinite +satisfaction, even though I shall feel at the same time anxious to +answer all your arguments and to disprove all your assertions. I +should be listening no doubt to my opponent;—but I should be proud +to feel that I was listening to my son. My advice to you is to do as +Sir Timothy has asked you."</p> + +<p>"He is such a beast, sir," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"Pray do not speak in that way on matters so serious."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you quite understand it, sir."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. Can you enlighten me?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he has done this only to annoy you."</p> + +<p>The Duke, who had again seated himself, and was leaning back in his +chair, raised himself up, placed his hands on the table before him, +and looked his son hard in the face. The idea which Silverbridge had +just expressed had certainly occurred to himself. He remembered well +all the circumstances of the time when he and Sir Timothy Beeswax had +been members of the same government;—and he remembered how +animosities had grown, and how treacherous he had thought the man. +From the moment in which he had read the minister's letter to the +young member, he had felt that the offer had too probably come from a +desire to make the political separation between himself and his son +complete. But he had thought that in counselling his son he was bound +to ignore such a feeling; and it certainly had not occurred to him +that Silverbridge would be astute enough to perceive the same thing.</p> + +<p>"What makes you fancy that?" said the Duke, striving to conceal by +his manner, but not altogether successful in concealing, the +gratification which he certainly felt.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I am not sure that I can explain it. Of course it is +putting you in a different boat from me."</p> + +<p>"You have already chosen your boat."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he thinks I may get out again. I dislike the skipper so +much, that I am not sure that I shall not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Silverbridge,—that is such a fault! So much is included in that +which is unstatesmanlike, unpatriotic, almost dishonest! Do you mean +to say that you would be this or that in politics according to your +personal liking for an individual?"</p> + +<p>"When you don't trust the leader, you can't believe very firmly in +the followers," said Silverbridge doggedly. "I won't say, sir, what I +may do. Though I dare say that what I think is not of much account, I +do think a good deal about it."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that."</p> + +<p>"And as I think it not at all improbable that I may go back again, if +you don't mind it, I will refuse." Of course after that the Duke had +no further arguments to use in favour of Sir Timothy's proposition.</p> + + +<p><a name="c68" id="c68"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVIII</h3> +<h3>Brook Street<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Silverbridge had now a week on his hands which he felt he might +devote to the lady of his love. It was a comfort to him that he need +have nothing to do with the address. To have to go, day after day, to +the Treasury in order that he might learn his lesson, would have been +disagreeable to him. He did not quite know how the lesson would have +been communicated, but fancied it would have come from "Old Roby," +whom he did not love much better than Sir Timothy. Then the speech +must have been composed, and afterwards submitted to +someone,—probably to old Roby again, by whom no doubt it would be +cut and slashed, and made quite a different speech than he had +intended. If he had not praised Sir Timothy himself, Roby,—or +whatever other tutor might have been assigned to him,—would have put +the praise in. And then how many hours it would have taken to learn +"the horrid thing" by heart. He proudly felt that he had not been +prompted by idleness to decline the task; but not the less was he +glad to have shuffled the burden from off his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning he was in Brook Street, having sent a note to +say he would call, and having even named the hour. And yet when he +knocked at the door, he was told with the utmost indifference by a +London footman, that Miss Boncassen was not at home,—also that Mrs. +Boncassen was not at home;—also that Mr. Boncassen was not at home. +When he asked at what hour Miss Boncassen was expected home, the man +answered him, just as though he had been anybody else, that he knew +nothing about it. He turned away in disgust, and had himself driven +to the Beargarden. In his misery he had recourse to game-pie and a +pint of champagne for his lunch. "Halloa, old fellow, what is this I +hear about you?" said Nidderdale, coming in and sitting opposite to +him.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you have heard."</p> + +<p>"You are going to second the address. What made them pick you out +from the lot of us?"</p> + +<p>"It is just what I am not going to do."</p> + +<p>"I saw it all in the papers."</p> + +<p>"I dare say;—and yet it isn't true. I shouldn't wonder if they ask +you." At this moment a waiter handed a large official letter to Lord +Nidderdale, saying that the messenger who had brought it was waiting +for an answer in the hall. The letter bore the important signature of +T. Beeswax on the corner of the envelope, and so disturbed Lord +Nidderdale that he called at once for a glass of soda-and-brandy. +When opened it was found to be very nearly a counterpart of that +which Silverbridge had received down in the country. There was, +however, added a little prayer that Lord Nidderdale would at once +come down to the Treasury Chambers.</p> + +<p>"They must be very hard up," said Lord Nidderdale. "But I shall do +it. Cantrip is always at me to do something, and you see if I don't +butter them up properly." Then having fortified himself with game-pie +and a glass of brown sherry he went away at once to the Treasury +Chambers.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge felt himself a little better after his lunch,—better +still when he had smoked a couple of cigarettes walking about the +empty smoking-room. And as he walked he collected his thoughts. She +could hardly have meant to slight him. No doubt her letter down to +him at Harrington had been very cold. No doubt he had been +ill-treated in being sent away so unceremoniously from the door. But +yet she could hardly intend that everything between them should be +over. Even an American girl could not be so unreasonable as that. He +remembered the passionate way in which she had assured him of her +love. All that could not have been forgotten! He had done nothing by +which he could have forfeited her esteem. She had desired him to tell +the whole affair to her father, and he had done so. Mr. Boncassen +might perhaps have objected. It might be that this American was so +prejudiced against English aristocrats as to desire no commerce with +them. There were not many Englishmen who would not have welcomed him +as son-in-law, but Americans might be different. Still,—still Isabel +would hardly have shown her obedience to her father in this way. She +was too independent to obey her father in a matter concerning her own +heart. And if he had not been the possessor of her heart at that last +interview, then she must have been false indeed! So he got once more +into his hansom and had himself taken back to Brook Street.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Boncassen was in the drawing-room alone.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," said the lady, "but Mr. Boncassen has, I think, just +gone out."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! and where is Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"Isabel is downstairs,—that is if she hasn't gone out too. She did +talk of going with her father to the Museum. She is getting quite +bookish. She has got a ticket, and goes there, and has all the things +brought to her just like the other learned folks."</p> + +<p>"I am anxious to see her, Mrs. Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"My! If she has gone out it will be a pity. She was only saying +yesterday she wouldn't wonder if you shouldn't turn up."</p> + +<p>"Of course I've turned up, Mrs. Boncassen. I was here an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Was it you who called and asked all them questions? My! We couldn't +make out who it was. The man said it was a flurried young gentleman +who wouldn't leave a card,—but who wanted to see Mr. Boncassen most +especial."</p> + +<p>"It was Isabel I wanted to see. Didn't I leave a card? No; I don't +think I did. I felt so—almost at home, that I didn't think of a +card."</p> + +<p>"That's very kind of you, Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are going to be my friend, Mrs. Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know, Lord Silverbridge. Isabel is most used to +having her own way, I guess. I think when hearts are joined almost +nothing ought to stand between them. But Mr. Boncassen does have +doubts. He don't wish as Isabel should force herself anywhere. But +here she is, and now she can speak for herself." Whereupon not only +did Isabel enter the room, but at the same time Mrs. Boncassen most +discreetly left it. It must be confessed that American mothers are +not afraid of their daughters.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge, when the door was closed, stood looking at the girl for +a moment and thought that she was more lovely than ever. She was +dressed for walking. She still had on her fur jacket, but had taken +off her hat. "I was in the parlour downstairs," she said, "when you +came in, with papa; and we were going out together; but when I heard +who was here, I made him go alone. Was I not good?"</p> + +<p>He had not thought of a word to say, or a thing to do;—but he felt +as he looked at her that the only thing in the world worth living +for, was to have her for his own. For a moment he was half abashed. +Then in the next she was close in his arms with his lips pressed to +hers. He had been so sudden that she had been unable, at any rate +thought that she had been unable, to repress him. "Lord +Silverbridge," she said, "I told you I would not have it. You have +offended me."</p> + +<p>"Isabel!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Isabel! Isabel is offended with you. Why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>Why did he do it? It seemed to him to be the most unnecessary +question. "I want you to know how I love you."</p> + +<p>"Will that tell me? That only tells me how little you think of me."</p> + +<p>"Then it tells you a falsehood;—for I am thinking of you always. And +I always think of you as being the best and dearest and sweetest +thing in the world. And now I think you dearer and sweeter than +ever." Upon this she tried to frown; but her frown at once broke out +into a smile. "When I wrote to say that I was coming why did you not +stay at home for me this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I got no letter, Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you get it?"</p> + +<p>"That I cannot say, Lord Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Isabel, if you are so formal, you will kill me."</p> + +<p>"Lord Silverbridge, if you are so forward, you will offend me." Then +it turned out that no letter from him had reached the house; and as +the letter had been addressed to Bruton Street instead of Brook +Street, the failure on the part of the post-office was not +surprising.</p> + +<p>Whether or no she were offended or he killed he remained with her the +whole of that afternoon. "Of course I love you," she said. "Do you +suppose I should be here with you if I did not, or that you could +have remained in the house after what you did just now? I am not +given to run into rhapsodies quite so much as you are,—and being a +woman perhaps it is as well that I don't. But I think I can be quite +as true to you as you are to me."</p> + +<p>"I am so much obliged to you for that," he said, grasping at her +hand.</p> + +<p>"But I am sure that rhapsodies won't do any good. Now I'll tell you +my mind."</p> + +<p>"You know mine," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I will take it for granted that I do. Your mind is to marry me will +ye nill ye, as the people say." He answered this by merely nodding +his head and getting a little nearer to her. "That is all very well +in its way, and I am not going to say but what I am gratified." Then +he did grasp her hand. "If it pleases you to hear me say so, Lord +<span class="nowrap">Silverbridge—"</span></p> + +<p>"Not Lord!"</p> + +<p>"Then I shall call you Plantagenet;—only it sounds so horribly +historical. Why are you not Thomas or Abraham? But if it will please +you to hear me say so, I am ready to acknowledge that nothing in all +my life ever came near to the delight I have in your love." Hereupon +he almost succeeded in getting his arm round her waist. But she was +strong, and seized his hand and held it. "And I speak no rhapsodies. +I tell you a truth which I want you to know and to keep in your +heart,—so that you may be always, always sure of it."</p> + +<p>"I never will doubt it."</p> + +<p>"But that marrying will ye nill ye, will not suit me. There is so +much wanted for happiness in life."</p> + +<p>"I will do all that I can."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Even though it be hazardous, I am willing to trust you. If you +were as other men are, if you could do as you please as lower men may +do, I would leave father and mother and my own country,—that I might +be your wife. I would do that because I love you. But what will my +life be here, if they who are your friends turn their backs upon me? +What will your life be, if, through all that, you continue to love +me?"</p> + +<p>"That will all come right."</p> + +<p>"And what will your life be, or mine," she said, going on with her +own thoughts without seeming to have heard his last words, "if in +such a condition as that you did not continue to love me?"</p> + +<p>"I should always love you."</p> + +<p>"It might be very hard:—and if once felt to be hard, then +impossible. You have not looked at it as I have done. Why should you? +Even with a wife that was a trouble to +<span class="nowrap">you—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Isabel!"</p> + +<p>His arm was now round her waist, but she continued speaking as though +she were not aware of the embrace. "Yes, a trouble! I shall not be +always just what I am now. Now I can be bright and pretty and hold my +own with others because I am so. But are you sure,—I am not,—that I +am such stuff as an English lady should be made of? If in ten years' +time you found that others did not think so,—that, worse again, you +did not think so yourself, would you be true to me then?"</p> + +<p>"I will always be true to you."</p> + +<p>She gently extricated herself, as though she had done so that she +might better turn round and look into his face. "Oh, my own one, who +can say of himself that it would be so? How could it be so, when you +would have all the world against you? You would still be what you +are,—with a clog round your leg while at home. In Parliament, among +your friends, at your clubs, you would be just what you are. You +would be that Lord Silverbridge who had all good things at his +disposal,—except that he had been unfortunate in his marriage! But +what should I be?" Though she paused he could not answer her,—not +yet. There was a solemnity in her speech which made it necessary that +he should hear her to the end. "I, too, have my friends in my own +country. It is no disgrace to me there that my grandfather worked on +the quays. No one holds her head higher than I do, or is more sure of +being able to hold it. I have there that assurance of esteem and +honour which you have here. I would lose it all to do you a good. But +I will not lose it to do you an injury."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about injuries," he said, getting up and walking about +the room. "But I am sure of this. You will have to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"If your father will take me by the hand and say that I shall be his +daughter, I will risk all the rest. Even then it might not be wise; +but we love each other too well not to run some peril. Do you think +that I want anything better than to preside in your home, to soften +your cares, to welcome your joys, to be the mother perhaps of your +children, and to know that you are proud that I should be so? No, my +darling. I can see a Paradise;—only, only, I may not be fit to enter +it. I must use some judgment better than my own, sounder, dear, than +yours. Tell the Duke what I say;—tell him with what language a son +may use to his father. And remember that all you ask for yourself you +will ask doubly for me."</p> + +<p>"I will ask him so that he cannot refuse me."</p> + +<p>"If you do I shall be contented. And now go. I have said ever so +much, and I am tired."</p> + +<p>"Isabel! Oh, my love!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Isabel;—your love! I am that at any rate for the present,—and +proud to be so as a queen. Well, if it must be, this once,—as I have +been so hard to you." Then she gave him her cheek to kiss, but of +course he took more than she gave.</p> + +<p>When he got out into the street it was dark and there was still +standing the faithful cab. But he felt that at the present moment it +would be impossible to sit still, and he dismissed the equipage. He +walked rapidly along Brook Street into Park Lane, and from thence to +the park, hardly knowing whither he went in the enthusiasm of the +moment. He walked back to the Marble Arch, and thence round by the +drive to the Guard House and the bridge over the Serpentine, by the +Knightsbridge Barracks to Hyde Park Corner. Though he should give up +everything and go and live in her own country with her, he would +marry her. His politics, his hunting, his address to the Queen, his +horses, his guns, his father's wealth, and his own rank,—what were +they all to Isabel Boncassen? In meeting her he had met the one human +being in all the world who could really be anything to him either in +friendship or in love. When she had told him what she would do for +him to make his home happy, it had seemed to him that all other +delights must fade away from him for ever. How odious were Tifto and +his racehorses, how unmeaning the noise of his club, how terrible the +tedium of those parliamentary benches! He could not tell his love as +she had told hers! He acknowledged to himself that his words could +not be as her words,—nor his intellect as hers. But his heart could +be as true. She had spoken to him of his name, his rank, and all his +outside world around him. He would make her understand at last that +they were nothing to him in comparison with her. When he had got +round to Hyde Park Corner, he felt that he was almost compelled to go +back again to Brook Street. In no other place could there be anything +to interest him;—nowhere else could there be light, or warmth, or +joy! But what would she think of him? To go back hot, and soiled with +mud, in order that he might say one more adieu,—that possibly he +might ravish one more kiss,—would hardly be manly. He must postpone +all that for the morrow. On the morrow of course he would be there.</p> + +<p>But his work was all before him! That prayer had to be made to his +father; or rather some wonderful effort of eloquence must be made by +which his father might be convinced that this girl was so infinitely +superior to anything of feminine creation that had ever hitherto been +seen or heard of, that all ideas as to birth, country, rank, or name +ought in this instance to count for nothing. He did believe himself +that he had found such a pearl, that no question of setting need be +taken into consideration. If the Duke would not see it the fault +would be in the Duke's eyes, or perhaps in his own words,—but +certainly not in the pearl.</p> + +<p>Then he compared her to poor Lady Mabel, and in doing so did arrive +at something near the truth in his inward delineation of the two +characters. Lady Mabel with all her grace, with all her beauty, with +all her talent, was a creature of efforts, or, as it might be called, +a manufactured article. She strove to be graceful, to be lovely, to +be agreeable and clever. Isabel was all this and infinitely more +without any struggle. When he was most fond of Mabel, most anxious to +make her his wife, there had always been present to him a feeling +that she was old. Though he knew her age to a day,—and knew her to +be younger than himself, yet she was old. Something had gone of her +native bloom, something had been scratched and chipped from the first +fair surface, and this had been repaired by varnish and veneering. +Though he had loved her he had never been altogether satisfied with +her. But Isabel was as young as Hebe. He knew nothing of her actual +years, but he did know that to have seemed younger, or to have seemed +older,—to have seemed in any way different from what she was,—would +have been to be less perfect.</p> + + +<p><a name="c69" id="c69"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIX</h3> +<h3>"Pert Poppet!"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On a Sunday morning,—while Lord Silverbridge was alone in a certain +apartment in the house in Carlton Terrace which was called his own +sitting-room, the name was brought him of a gentleman who was anxious +to see him. He had seen his father and had used all the eloquence of +which he was master,—but not quite with the effect which he had +desired. His father had been very kind, but he, too, had been +eloquent;—and had, as is often the case with orators, been +apparently more moved by his own words than by those of his +adversary. If he had not absolutely declared himself as irrevocably +hostile to Miss Boncassen he had not said a word that might be +supposed to give token of assent.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge, therefore, was moody, contemplative, and desirous of +solitude. Nothing that the Duke had said had shaken him. He was still +sure of his pearl, and quite determined that he would wear it. +Various thoughts were running through his brain. What if he were to +abdicate the title and become a republican? He was inclined to think +that he could not abdicate, but he was quite sure that no one could +prevent him from going to America and calling himself Mr. Palliser. +That his father would forgive him and accept the daughter-in-law +brought to him, were he in the first place to marry without sanction, +he felt quite sure. What was there that his father would not forgive? +But then Isabel would not assent to this. He was turning it all in +his head and ever and anon trying to relieve his mind by "Clarissa," +which he was reading in conformity with his father's advice, when the +gentleman's card was put into his hand. "Whatever does he want here?" +he said to himself; and then he ordered that the gentleman might be +shown up. The gentleman in question was our old friend Dolly +Longstaff. Dolly Longstaff and Silverbridge had been intimate as +young men are. But they were not friends, nor, as far as Silverbridge +knew, had Dolly ever set his foot in that house before. "Well, +Dolly," said he, "what's the matter now?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are surprised to see me?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think that you were ever up so early." It was at this time +almost noon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, that's nonsense. I can get up as early as anybody +else. I have changed all that for the last four months. I was at +breakfast this morning very soon after ten."</p> + +<p>"What a miracle! Is there anything I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Well yes,—there is. Of course you are surprised to see me?"</p> + +<p>"You never were here before; and therefore it is odd."</p> + +<p>"It is odd; I felt that myself. And when I tell you what I have come +about you will think it more odd. I know I can trust you with a +secret."</p> + +<p>"That depends, Dolly."</p> + +<p>"What I mean is, I know you are good-natured. There are ever so many +fellows that are one's most intimate friends, that would say anything +on earth they could that was ill-natured."</p> + +<p>"I hope they are not my friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, they are. Think of Glasslough, or Popplecourt, or Hindes! If +they knew anything about you that you didn't want to have +known,—about a young lady or anything of that kind,—don't you think +they'd tell everybody?"</p> + +<p>"A man can't tell anything he doesn't know."</p> + +<p>"That's true. I had thought of that myself. But then there's a +particular reason for my telling you this. It is about a young lady! +You won't tell; will you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't. But I can't see why on earth you should come to me. You +are ever so many years older than I am."</p> + +<p>"I had thought of that too. But you are just the person I must tell. +I want you to help me."</p> + +<p>These last words were said in a whisper, and Dolly as he said them +had drawn nearer to his friend. Silverbridge remained in suspense, +saying nothing by way of encouragement. Dolly, either in love with +his own mystery or doubtful of his own purpose, sat still, looking +eagerly at his companion. "What the mischief is it?" asked +Silverbridge impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I have quite made up my own mind."</p> + +<p>"That's a good thing at any rate."</p> + +<p>"I am not what you would have called a marrying sort of man."</p> + +<p>"I should have said,—no. But I suppose most men do marry sooner or +later."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I said to myself. It has to be done, you know. +There are three different properties coming to me. At least one has +come already."</p> + +<p>"You're a lucky fellow."</p> + +<p>"I've made up my mind; and when I say a thing I mean to do it."</p> + +<p>"But what can I do?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I'm coming to. If a man does marry I think he ought +to be attached to her." To this, as a broad proposition, Silverbridge +was ready to accede. But, regarding Dolly as a middle-aged sort of +fellow, one of those men who marry because it is convenient to have a +house kept for them, he simply nodded his head. "I am awfully +attached to her," Dolly went on to say.</p> + +<p>"That's all right."</p> + +<p>"Of course there are fellows who marry girls for their money. I've +known men who have married their grandmothers."</p> + +<p>"Not really!"</p> + +<p>"That kind of thing. When a woman is old it does not much matter who +she is. But my one! She's not old!"</p> + +<p>"Nor rich?"</p> + +<p>"Well; I don't know about that. But I'm not after her money. Pray +understand that. It's because I'm downright fond of her. She's an +American."</p> + +<p>"A what!" said Silverbridge, startled.</p> + +<p>"You know her. That's the reason I've come to you. It's Miss +Boncassen." A dark frown came across the young man's face. That all +this should be said to him was disgusting. That an owl like that +should dare to talk of loving Miss Boncassen was offensive to him.</p> + +<p>"It's because you know her that I've come to you. She thinks that +you're after her." Dolly as he said this lifted himself quickly up in +his seat, and nodded his head mysteriously as he looked into his +companion's face. It was as much as though he should say, "I see you +are surprised, but so it is." Then he went on. "She does, the pert +poppet!" This was almost too much for Silverbridge; but still he +contained himself. "She won't look at me because she has got it into +her head that perhaps some day she may be Duchess of Omnium! That of +course is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word all this seems to me to be so very—very,—distasteful +that I think you had better say nothing more about it."</p> + +<p>"It is distasteful," said Dolly; "but the truth is I am so +downright,—what you may call +<span class="nowrap">enamoured—"</span></p> + +<p>"Don't talk such stuff as that here," said Silverbridge, jumping up. +"I won't have it."</p> + +<p>"But I am. There is nothing I wouldn't do to get her. Of course it's +a good match for her. I've got three separate properties; and when +the governor goes off I shall have a clear fifteen thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother!"</p> + +<p>"Of course that's nothing to you, but it is a very tidy income for a +commoner. And how is she to do better?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how she could do much worse," said Silverbridge in a +transport of rage. Then he pulled his moustache in vexation, angry +with himself that he should have allowed himself to say even a word +on so preposterous a supposition. Isabel Boncassen and Dolly +Longstaff! It was Titania and Bottom over again. It was absolutely +necessary that he should get rid of this intruder, and he began to be +afraid that he could not do this without using language which would +be uncivil. "Upon my word," he said, "I think you had better not talk +about it any more. The young lady is one for whom I have a very great +respect."</p> + +<p>"I mean to marry her," said Dolly, thinking thus to vindicate +himself.</p> + +<p>"You might as well think of marrying one of the stars."</p> + +<p>"One of the stars!"</p> + +<p>"Or a royal princess!"</p> + +<p>"Well! Perhaps that is your opinion, but I can't say that I agree +with you. I don't see why she shouldn't take me. I can give her a +position which you may call Al out of the Peerage. I can bring her +into society. I can make an English lady of her."</p> + +<p>"You can't make anything of her,—except to insult her,—and me too +by talking of her."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand this," said the unfortunate lover, getting +up from his seat. "Very likely she won't have me. Perhaps she has +told you so."</p> + +<p>"She never mentioned your name to me in her life. I don't suppose she +remembers your existence."</p> + +<p>"But I say that there can be no insult in such a one as me asking +such a one as her to be my wife. To say that she doesn't remember my +existence is absurd."</p> + +<p>"Why should I be troubled with all this?"</p> + +<p>"Because I think you're making a fool of her, and because I'm honest. +That's why," said Dolly with much energy. There was something in this +which partly reconciled Silverbridge to his despised rival. There was +a touch of truth about the man, though he was so utterly mistaken in +his ideas. "I want you to give over in order that I may try again. I +don't think you ought to keep a girl from her promotion, merely for +the fun of a flirtation. Perhaps you're fond of her;—but you won't +marry her. I am fond of her, and I shall."</p> + +<p>After a minute's pause Silverbridge resolved that he would be +magnanimous. "Miss Boncassen is going to be my wife," he said.</p> + +<p>"Your wife!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—my wife. And now I think you will see that nothing further can +be said about this matter."</p> + +<p>"Duchess of Omnium!"</p> + +<p>"She will be Lady Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Oh; of course she'll be that first. Then I've got nothing further to +say. I'm not going to enter myself to run against you. Only I +shouldn't have believed it if anybody else had told me."</p> + +<p>"Such is my good fortune."</p> + +<p>"Oh ah,—yes; of course. That is one way of looking at it. Well; +Silverbridge, I'll tell you what I shall do; I shall hook it."</p> + +<p>"No; no, not you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall. I dare say you won't believe me, but I've got such a +feeling about me here"—as he said this he laid his hand upon his +heart,—"that if I stayed I should go in for hard drinking. I shall +take the great Asiatic tour. I know a fellow that wants to go, but he +hasn't got any money. I dare say I shall be off before the end of +next month. You don't know any fellow that would buy half-a-dozen +hunters; do you?" Silverbridge shook his head. "Good-bye," said Dolly +in a melancholy tone; "I am sure I am very much obliged to you for +telling me. If I'd known you'd meant it, I shouldn't have meddled, of +course. Duchess of Omnium!"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Dolly, I have told you what I should not have told any +one, but I wanted to screen the young lady's name."</p> + +<p>"It was so kind of you."</p> + +<p>"Do not repeat it. It is a kind of thing that ladies are particular +about. They choose their own time for letting everybody know." Then +Dolly promised to be as mute as a fish, and took his departure.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge had felt, towards the end of the interview, that he had +been arrogant to the unfortunate man,—particularly in saying that +the young lady would not remember the existence of such a +suitor,—and had also recognised a certain honesty in the man's +purpose, which had not been the less honest because it was so absurd. +Actuated by the consciousness of this, he had swallowed his anger, +and had told the whole truth. Nevertheless things had been said which +were horrible to him. This buffoon of a man had called his Isabel +a—pert poppet! How was he to get over the remembrance of such an +offence? And then the wretch had declared that he was—enamoured! +There was sacrilege in the term when applied by such a man to Isabel +Boncassen. He had thoughts of days to come, when everything would be +settled, when he might sit close to her, and call her pretty +names,—when he might in sweet familiarity tell her that she was a +little Yankee and a fierce republican, and "chaff" her about the +stars and stripes; and then, as he pictured the scene to himself in +his imagination, she would lean upon him and would give him back his +chaff, and would call him an aristocrat and would laugh at his +titles. As he thought of all this he would be proud with the feeling +that such privileges would be his own. And now this wretched man had +called her a pert poppet!</p> + +<p>There was a sanctity about her,—a divinity which made it almost a +profanity to have talked about her at all to such a one as Dolly +Longstaff. She was his Holy of Holies, at which vulgar eyes should +not even be allowed to gaze. It had been a most unfortunate +interview. But this was clear; that, as he had announced his +engagement to such a one as Dolly Longstaff, the matter now would +admit of no delay. He would explain to his father that as tidings of +the engagement had got abroad, honour to the young lady would compel +him to come forward openly as her suitor at once. If this argument +might serve him, then perhaps this intrusion would not have been +altogether a misfortune.</p> + + +<p><a name="c70" id="c70"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXX</h3> +<h3>"Love May Be a Great Misfortune"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Silverbridge when he reached Brook Street that day was surprised to +find that a large party was going to lunch there. Isabel had asked +him to come, and he had thought her the dearest girl in the world for +doing so. But now his gratitude for that favour was considerably +abated. He did not care just now for the honour of eating his lunch +in the presence of Mr. Gotobed, the American minister, whom he found +there already in the drawing-room with Mrs. Gotobed, nor with Ezekiel +Sevenkings, the great American poet from the far West, who sat silent +and stared at him in an unpleasant way. When Sir Timothy Beeswax was +announced, with Lady Beeswax and her daughter, his gratification +certainly was not increased. And the last comer,—who did not arrive +indeed till they were all seated at the table,—almost made him start +from his chair and take his departure suddenly. That last comer was +no other than Mr. Adolphus Longstaff. As it happened he was seated +next to Dolly, with Lady Beeswax on the other side of him. Whereas +his Holy of Holies was on the other side of Dolly! The arrangement +made seemed to him to have been monstrous. He had endeavoured to get +next to Isabel; but she had so manœuvred that there should be a +vacant chair between them. He had not much regarded this because a +vacant chair may be pushed on one side. But before he had made all +his calculations Dolly Longstaff was sitting there! He almost thought +that Dolly winked at him in triumph,—that very Dolly who an hour ago +had promised to take himself off upon his Asiatic travels!</p> + +<p>Sir Timothy and the minister kept up the conversation very much +between them, Sir Timothy flattering everything that was American, +and the minister finding fault with very many things that were +English. Now and then Mr. Boncassen would put in a word to soften the +severe honesty of his countryman, or to correct the euphemistic +falsehoods of Sir Timothy. The poet seemed always to be biding his +time. Dolly ventured to whisper a word to his neighbour. It was but +to say that the frost had broken up. But Silverbridge heard it and +looked daggers at everyone. Then Lady Beeswax expressed to him a hope +that he was going to do great things in Parliament this Session. "I +don't mean to go near the place," he said, not at all conveying any +purpose to which he had really come, but driven by the stress of the +moment to say something that should express his general hatred of +everybody. Mr. Lupton was there, on the other side of Isabel, and was +soon engaged with her in a pleasant familiar conversation. Then +Silverbridge remembered that he had always thought Lupton to be a +most conceited prig. Nobody gave himself so many airs, or was so +careful as to the dyeing of his whiskers. It was astonishing that +Isabel should allow herself to be amused by such an antiquated +coxcomb. When they had finished eating they moved about and changed +their places, Mr. Boncassen being rather anxious to stop the flood of +American eloquence which came from his friend Mr. Gotobed. British +viands had become subject to his criticism, and Mr. Gotobed had +declared to Mr. Lupton that he didn't believe that London could +produce a dish of squash or tomatoes. He was quite sure you couldn't +have sweet corn. Then there had been a moving of seats in which the +minister was shuffled off to Lady Beeswax, and the poet found himself +by the side of Isabel. "Do you not regret our mountains and our +prairies," said the poet; "our great waters and our green savannahs?" +"I think more perhaps of Fifth Avenue," said Miss Boncassen. +Silverbridge, who at this moment was being interrogated by Sir +Timothy, heard every word of it.</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry, Lord Silverbridge," said Sir Timothy, "that you +could not accede to our little request."</p> + +<p>"I did not quite see my way," said Silverbridge, with his eye upon +Isabel.</p> + +<p>"So I understood, but I hope that things will make themselves clearer +to you shortly. There is nothing that I desire so much as the support +of young men such as yourself,—the very cream, I may say, of the +whole country. It is to the young conservative thoughtfulness and the +truly British spirit of our springing aristocracy that I look for +that reaction which I am sure will at last carry us safely over the +rocks and shoals of communistic propensities."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if it did," said Silverbridge. They didn't think +that he was going to remain down there talking politics to an old +humbug like Sir Timothy when the sun, and moon, and all the stars had +gone up into the drawing-room! For at that moment Isabel was making +her way to the door.</p> + +<p>But Sir Timothy had buttonholed him. "Of course it is late now to say +anything further about the address. We have arranged that. Not quite +as I would have wished, for I had set my heart upon initiating you +into the rapturous pleasure of parliamentary debate. But I hope that +a good time is coming. And pray remember this, Lord +Silverbridge;—there is no member sitting on our side of the House, +and I need hardly say on the other, whom I would go farther to oblige +than your father's son."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure that's very kind," said Silverbridge, absolutely using a +little force as he disengaged himself. Then he at once followed the +ladies upstairs, passing the poet on the stairs. "You have hardly +spoken to me," he whispered to Isabel. He knew that to whisper to her +now, with the eyes of many upon him, with the ears of many open, was +an absurdity; but he could not refrain himself.</p> + +<p>"There are so many to be,—entertained, as people say! I don't think +I ought to have to entertain you," she answered, laughing. No one +heard her but Silverbridge, yet she did not seem to whisper. She left +him, however, at once, and was soon engaged in conversation with Sir +Timothy.</p> + +<p>A convivial lunch I hold to be altogether bad, but the worst of its +many evils is that vacillating mind which does not know when to take +its owner off. Silverbridge was on this occasion quite determined not +to take himself off at all. As it was only a lunch the people must +go, and then he would be left with Isabel. But the vacillation of the +others was distressing to him. Mr. Lupton went, and poor Dolly got +away apparently without a word. But the Beeswaxes and the Gotobeds +would not go, and the poet sat staring immovably. In the meanwhile +Silverbridge endeavoured to make the time pass lightly by talking to +Mrs. Boncassen. He had been so determined to accept Isabel with all +her adjuncts that he had come almost to like Mrs. Boncassen, and +would certainly have taken her part violently had any one spoken ill +of her in his presence.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he found that the room was nearly empty. The Beeswaxes +and the Gotobeds were gone; and at last the poet himself, with a +final glare of admiration at Isabel, had taken his departure. When +Silverbridge looked round, Isabel also was gone. Then too Mrs. +Boncassen had left the room suddenly. At the same instant Mr. +Boncassen entered by another door, and the two men were alone +together. "My dear Lord Silverbridge," said the father, "I want to +have a few words with you." Of course there was nothing for him but +to submit. "You remember what you said to me down at Matching?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I remember that."</p> + +<p>"You did me the great honour of expressing a wish to make my child +your wife."</p> + +<p>"I was asking for a very great favour."</p> + +<p>"That also;—for there is no greater favour I could do to any man +than to give him my daughter. Nevertheless, you were doing me a great +honour,—and you did it, as you do everything, with an honest grace +that went far to win my heart. I am not at all surprised, sir, that +you should have won hers." The young man as he heard this could only +blush and look foolish. "If I know my girl, neither your money nor +your title would go for anything."</p> + +<p>"I think much more of her love, Mr. Boncassen, than I do of anything +else in the world."</p> + +<p>"But love, my Lord, may be a great misfortune." As he said this the +tone of his voice was altered, and there was a melancholy solemnity +not only in his words but in his countenance. "I take it that young +people when they love rarely think of more than the present moment. +If they did so the bloom would be gone from their romance. But others +have to do this for them. If Isabel had come to me saying that she +loved a poor man, there would not have been much to disquiet me. A +poor man may earn bread for himself and his wife, and if he failed I +could have found them bread. Nor, had she loved somewhat below her +own degree, should I have opposed her. So long as her husband had +been an educated man, there might have been no future punishment to +fear."</p> + +<p>"I don't think she could have done that," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"At any rate she has not done so. But how am I to look upon this that +she has done?"</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best for her, Mr. Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"I believe you would. But even your love can't make her an +Englishwoman. You can make her a Duchess."</p> + +<p>"Not that, sir."</p> + +<p>"But you can't give her a parentage fit for a Duchess;—not fit at +least in the opinion of those with whom you will pass your life, with +whom,—or perhaps without whom,—she will be destined to pass her +life, if she becomes your wife! Unfortunately it does not suffice +that you should think it fit. Though you loved each other as well as +any man and woman that ever were brought into each other's arms by +the beneficence of God, you cannot make her happy,—unless you can +assure her the respect of those around her."</p> + +<p>"All the world will respect her."</p> + +<p>"Her conduct,—yes. I think the world, your world, would learn to do +that. I do not think it could help itself. But that would not +suffice. I may respect the man who cleans my boots. But he would be a +wretched man if he were thrown on me for society. I would not give +him my society. Will your Duchesses and your Countesses give her +theirs?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly they will."</p> + +<p>"I do not ask for it as thinking it to be of more value than that of +others; but were she to become your wife she would be so abnormally +placed as to require it for her comfort. She would have become a lady +of high rank,—not because she loves rank, but because she loves +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes," said Silverbridge, hardly himself knowing why he +became impetuous.</p> + +<p>"But having removed herself into that position, being as she would +be, a Countess, or a Duchess, or what not, how could she be happy if +she were excluded from the community of Countesses and Duchesses?"</p> + +<p>"They are not like that," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I will not say that they are, but I do not know. Having Anglican +tendencies, I have been wont to contradict my countrymen when they +have told me of the narrow exclusiveness of your nobles. Having found +your nobles and your commoners all alike in their courtesy,—which is +a cold word; in their hospitable friendships,—I would now not only +contradict, but would laugh to scorn any such charge,"—so far he +spoke somewhat loudly, and then dropped his voice as he +concluded,—"were it anything less than the happiness of my child +that is in question."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say, sir? I only know this; I am not going to lose +her."</p> + +<p>"You are a fine fellow. I was going to say that I wished you were an +American, so that Isabel need not lose you. But, my boy, I have told +you that I do not know how it might be. Of all whom you know, who +could best tell me the truth on such a subject? Who is there whose +age will have given him experience, whose rank will have made him +familiar with this matter, who from friendship to you would be least +likely to decide against your wishes, who from his own native honesty +would be most sure to tell the truth?"</p> + +<p>"You mean my father," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I do mean your father. Happily he has taken no dislike to the girl +herself. I have seen enough of him to feel sure that he is devoted to +his own children."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he is."</p> + +<p>"A just and a liberal man;—one I should say not carried away by +prejudices! Well,—my girl and I have just put our heads together, +and we have come to a conclusion. If the Duke of Omnium will tell us +that she would be safe as your wife,—safe from the contempt of those +around her,—you shall have her. And I shall rejoice to give her to +you,—not because you are Lord Silverbridge, not because of your rank +and wealth; but because you are—that individual human being whom I +now hold by the hand."</p> + +<p>When the American had come to an end, Silverbridge was too much moved +to make any immediate answer. He had an idea in his own mind that the +appeal was not altogether fair. His father was a just man,—just, +affectionate, and liberal. But then it will so often happen that +fathers do not want their sons to marry those very girls on whom the +sons have set their hearts. He could only say that he would speak to +his father again on the subject. "Let him tell me that he is +contented," said Mr. Boncassen, "and I will tell him that I am +contented. Now, my friend, good-bye." Silverbridge begged that he +might be allowed to see Isabel before he was turned out; but Isabel +had left the house in company with her mother.</p> + + +<p><a name="c71" id="c71"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXI</h3> +<h3>"What Am I to Say, Sir?"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Silverbridge left Mr. Boncassen's house he was resolved to go to +his father without an hour's delay, and represent to the Duke exactly +how the case stood. He would be urgent, piteous, submissive, and +eloquent. In any other matter he would promise to make whatever +arrangements his father might desire. He would make his father +understand that all his happiness depended on this marriage. When +once married he would settle down, even at Gatherum Castle if the +Duke should wish it. He would not think of race-horses, he would +desert the Beargarden, he would learn blue-books by heart, and only +do as much shooting and hunting as would become a young nobleman in +his position. All this he would say as eagerly and as pleasantly as +it might be said. But he would add to all this an assurance of his +unchangeable intention. It was his purpose to marry Isabel Boncassen. +If he could do this with his father's good will,—so best. But at any +rate he would marry her!</p> + +<p>The world at this time was altogether busy with political rumours; +and it was supposed that Sir Timothy Beeswax would do something very +clever. It was supposed also that he would sever himself from some of +his present companions. On that point everybody was agreed,—and on +that point only everybody was right. Lord Drummond, who was the +titular Prime Minister, and Sir Timothy, had, during a considerable +part of the last Session, and through the whole vacation, so belarded +each other with praise in all their public expressions that it was +quite manifest that they had quarrelled. When any body of statesmen +make public asseverations by one or various voices, that there is no +discord among them, not a dissentient voice on any subject, people +are apt to suppose that they cannot hang together much longer. It is +the man who has no peace at home that declares abroad that his wife +is an angel. He who lives on comfortable terms with the partner of +his troubles can afford to acknowledge the ordinary rubs of life. Old +Mr. Mildmay, who was Prime Minister for so many years, and whom his +party worshipped, used to say that he had never found a gentleman who +had quite agreed with him all round; but Sir Timothy has always been +in exact accord with all his colleagues,—till he has left them, or +they him. Never had there been such concord as of late,—and men, +clubs, and newspapers now protested that as a natural consequence +there would soon be a break-up.</p> + +<p>But not on that account would it perhaps be necessary that Sir +Timothy should resign,—or not necessary that his resignation should +be permanent. The Conservative majority had dwindled,—but still +there was a majority. It certainly was the case that Lord Drummond +could not get on without Sir Timothy. But might it not be possible +that Sir Timothy should get on without Lord Drummond? If so he must +begin his action in this direction by resigning. He would have to +place his resignation, no doubt with infinite regret, in the hands of +Lord Drummond. But if such a step were to be taken now, just as +Parliament was about to assemble, what would become of the Queen's +speech, of the address, and of the noble peers and noble and other +commoners who were to propose and second it in the two Houses of +Parliament? There were those who said that such a trick played at the +last moment would be very shabby. But then again there were those who +foresaw that the shabbiness would be made to rest anywhere rather +than on the shoulders of Sir Timothy. If it should turn out that he +had striven manfully to make things run smoothly;—that the Premier's +incompetence, or the Chancellor's obstinacy, or this or that +Secretary's peculiarity of temper had done it all;—might not Sir +Timothy then be able to emerge from the confused flood, and swim +along pleasantly with his head higher than ever above the waters?</p> + +<p>In these great matters parliamentary management goes for so much! If +a man be really clever and handy at his trade, if he can work hard +and knows what he is about, if he can give and take and be not +thin-skinned or sore-bored, if he can ask pardon for a peccadillo and +seem to be sorry with a good grace, if above all things he be able to +surround himself with the prestige of success, then so much will be +forgiven him! Great gifts of eloquence are hardly wanted, or a +deep-seated patriotism which is capable of strong indignation. A +party has to be managed, and he who can manage it best, will probably +be its best leader. The subordinate task of legislation and of +executive government may well fall into the inferior hands of less +astute practitioners. It was admitted on both sides that there was no +man like Sir Timothy for managing the House or coercing a party, and +there was therefore a general feeling that it would be a pity that +Sir Timothy should be squeezed out. He knew all the little secrets of +the business;—could arrange, let the cause be what it might, to get +a full House for himself and his friends, and empty benches for his +opponents,—could foresee a thousand little things to which even a +Walpole would have been blind, which a Pitt would not have +condescended to regard, but with which his familiarity made him a +very comfortable leader of the House of Commons. There were various +ideas prevalent as to the politics of the coming Session; but the +prevailing idea was in favour of Sir Timothy.</p> + +<p>The Duke was at Longroyston, the seat of his old political ally the +Duke of St. Bungay, and had been absent from Sunday the 6th till the +morning of Friday the 11th, on which day Parliament was to meet. On +that morning at about noon a letter came to the son saying that his +father had returned and would be glad to see him. Silverbridge was +going to the House on that day and was not without his own political +anxieties. If Lord Drummond remained in, he thought that he must, for +the present, stand by the party which he had adopted. If, however, +Sir Timothy should become Prime Minister there would be a loophole +for escape. There were some three or four besides himself who +detested Sir Timothy, and in such case he might perhaps have company +in his desertion. All this was on his mind; but through all this he +was aware that there was a matter of much deeper moment which +required his energies. When his father's message was brought to him +he told himself at once that now was the time for his eloquence.</p> + +<p>"Well, Silverbridge," said the Duke, "how are matters going on with +you?" There seemed to be something in his father's manner more than +ordinarily jocund and good-humoured.</p> + +<p>"With me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to ask any party secrets. If you and Sir Timothy +understand each other, of course you will be discreet."</p> + +<p>"I can't be discreet, sir, because I don't know anything about him."</p> + +<p>"When I heard," said the Duke smiling, "of your being in close +conference with Sir <span class="nowrap">Timothy—"</span></p> + +<p>"I, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. Mr. Boncassen told me that you and he were so deeply taken +up with each other at his house, that nobody could get a word with +either of you."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Mr. Boncassen?" asked the son, whose attention was +immediately diverted from his father's political badinage.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I have seen him. I happened to meet him where I was dining +last Sunday, and he walked home with me. He was so intent upon what +he was saying that I fear he allowed me to take him out of his way."</p> + +<p>"What was he talking about?" said Silverbridge. All his preparations, +all his eloquence, all his method, now seemed to have departed from +him.</p> + +<p>"He was talking about you," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"He had told me that he wanted to see you. What did he say, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you can guess what he said. He wished to know what I +thought of the offer you have made to his daughter." The great +subject had come up so easily, so readily, that he was almost aghast +when he found himself in the middle of it. And yet he must speak of +the matter, and that at once.</p> + +<p>"I hope you raised no objection, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"The objection came mainly from him; and I am bound to say that every +word that fell from him was spoken with wisdom."</p> + +<p>"But still he asked you to consent."</p> + +<p>"By no means. He told me his opinion,—and then he asked me a +question."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he did not say that we ought not to be married."</p> + +<p>"He did say that he thought you ought not to be married, if—"</p> + +<p>"If what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"If there were probability that his daughter would not be well +received as your wife. Then he asked me what would be my reception of +her." Silverbridge looked up into his father's face with beseeching +imploring eyes as though everything now depended on the next few +words that he might utter. "I shall think it an unwise marriage," +continued the Duke. Silverbridge when he heard this at once knew that +he had gained his cause. His father had spoken of the marriage as a +thing that was to happen. A joyous light dawned in his eyes, and the +look of pain went from his brow, all which the Duke was not slow to +perceive. "I shall think it an unwise marriage," he continued, +repeating his words; "but I was bound to tell him that were Miss +Boncassen to become your wife she would also become my daughter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir."</p> + +<p>"I told him why the marriage would be distasteful to me. Whether I +may be wrong or right I think it to be for the good of our country, +for the good of our order, for the good of our individual families, +that we should support each other by marriage. It is not as though we +were a narrow class, already too closely bound together by family +alliances. The room for choice might be wide enough for you without +going across the Atlantic to look for her who is to be the mother of +your children. To this Mr. Boncassen replied that he was to look +solely to his daughter's happiness. He meant me to understand that he +cared nothing for my feelings. Why should he? That which to me is +deep wisdom is to him an empty prejudice. He asked me then how others +would receive her."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that everybody would like her," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I like her. I like her very much."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad."</p> + +<p>"But still all this is a sorrow to me. When however he put that +question to me about the world around her,—as to those among whom +her lot would be cast, I could not say that I thought she would be +rejected."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" The idea of rejecting Isabel!</p> + +<p>"She has a brightness and a grace all her own," continued the Duke, +"which will ensure her acceptance in all societies."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes;—it is just that, sir."</p> + +<p>"You will be a nine days' wonder,—the foolish young nobleman who +chose to marry an American."</p> + +<p>"I think it will be just the other way up, sir,—among the men."</p> + +<p>"But her place will I think be secure to her. That is what I told Mr. +Boncassen."</p> + +<p>"It is all right with him then,—now?"</p> + +<p>"If you call it all right. You will understand of course that you are +acting in opposition to my advice,—and my wishes."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say, sir?" exclaimed Silverbridge, almost in despair. +"When I love the girl better than my life, and when you tell me that +she can be mine if I choose to take her; when I have asked her to be +my wife, and have got her to say that she likes me; when her father +has given way, and all the rest of it, would it be possible that I +should say now that I will give her up?"</p> + +<p>"My opinion is to go for nothing,—in anything!" The Duke as he said +this knew that he was expressing aloud a feeling which should have +been restrained within his own bosom. It was natural that there +should have been such plaints. The same suffering must be encountered +in regard to Tregear and his daughter. In every way he had been +thwarted. In every direction he was driven to yield. And yet now he +had to undergo rebuke from his own son, because one of those inward +plaints would force itself from his lips! Of course this girl was to +be taken in among the Pallisers and treated with an idolatrous +love,—as perfect as though "all the blood of all the Howards" were +running in her veins. What further inch of ground was there for a +fight? And if the fight were over, why should he rob his boy of one +sparkle from off the joy of his triumph? Silverbridge was now +standing before him abashed by that plaint, inwardly sustained no +doubt by the conviction of his great success, but subdued by his +father's wailing. "However,—perhaps we had better let that pass," +said the Duke, with a long sigh. Then Silverbridge took his father's +hand, and looked up in his face. "I most sincerely hope that she may +make you a good and loving wife," said the Duke, "and that she may do +her duty by you in that not easy sphere of life to which she will be +called."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure she will," said Silverbridge, whose ideas as to +Isabel's duties were confined at present to a feeling that she would +now have to give him kisses without stint.</p> + +<p>"What I have seen of her personally recommends her to me," said the +Duke. "Some girls are <span class="nowrap">fools—"</span></p> + +<p>"That's quite true, sir."</p> + +<p>"Who think that the world is to be nothing but dancing, and going to +parties."</p> + +<p>"Many have been doing it for so many years," said Silverbridge, "that +they can't understand that there should be an end of it."</p> + +<p>"A wife ought to feel the great responsibility of her position. I +hope she will."</p> + +<p>"And the sooner she begins the better," said Silverbridge stoutly.</p> + +<p>"And now," said the Duke, looking at his watch, "we might as well +have lunch and go down to the House. I will walk with you if you +please. It will be about time for each of us." Then the son was +forced to go down and witness the somewhat faded ceremony of seeing +Parliament opened by three Lords sitting in commission before the +throne. Whereas but for such stress as his father had laid upon him, +he would have disregarded his parliamentary duties and have rushed at +once up to Brook Street. As it was he was so handed over from one +political pundit to another, was so buttonholed by Sir Timothy, so +chaffed as to the address by Phineas Finn, and at last so occupied +with the whole matter that he was compelled to sit in his place till +he had heard Nidderdale make his speech. This the young Scotch Lord +did so well, and received so much praise for the doing of it, and +looked so well in his uniform, that Silverbridge almost regretted the +opportunity he had lost. At seven the sitting was over, the speeches, +though full of interest, having been shorter than usual. They had +been full of interest, but nobody understood in the least what was +going to happen. "I don't know anything about the Prime Minister," +said Mr. Lupton as he left the House with our hero and another not +very staunch supporter of the Government, "but I'll back Sir Timothy +to be the Leader of the House on the last day of the Session, against +all comers. I don't think it much matters who is Prime Minister +nowadays."</p> + +<p>At half-past seven Silverbridge was at the door in Brook Street. Yes; +Miss Boncassen was at home. The servant thought that she was upstairs +dressing. Then Silverbridge made his way without further invitation +into the drawing-room. There he remained alone for ten minutes. At +last the door opened, and Mrs. Boncassen entered. "Dear Lord +Silverbridge, who ever dreamed of seeing you? I thought all you +Parliament gentlemen were going through your ceremonies. Isabel had a +ticket and went down, and saw your father."</p> + +<p>"Where is Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"She's gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! Where on earth has she gone to?" asked Silverbridge, as though +fearing lest she had been carried off to the other side of the +Atlantic. Then Mrs. Boncassen explained. Within the last three +minutes Mrs. Montacute Jones had called and carried Isabel off to the +play. Mrs. Jones was up in town for a week, and this had been a very +old engagement. "I hope you did not want her very particularly," said +Mrs. Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"But I did,—most particularly," said Lord Silverbridge. The door was +opened and Mr. Boncassen entered the room. "I beg your pardon for +coming at such a time," said the lover, "but I did so want to see +Isabel."</p> + +<p>"I rather think she wants to see you," said the father.</p> + +<p>"I shall go to the theatre after her."</p> + +<p>"That might be awkward,—particularly as I doubt whether anybody +knows what theatre they are gone to. Can I receive a message for her, +my lord?" This was certainly not what Lord Silverbridge had intended. +"You know, perhaps, that I have seen the Duke."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—and I have seen him. Everything is settled."</p> + +<p>"That is the only message she will want to hear when she comes home. +She is a happy girl and I am proud to think that I should live to +call such a grand young Briton as you my son-in-law." Then the +American took the young man's two hands and shook them cordially, +while Mrs. Boncassen bursting into tears insisted on kissing him.</p> + +<p>"Indeed she is a happy girl," said she; "but I hope Isabel won't be +carried away too high and mighty."</p> + + +<p><a name="c72" id="c72"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXII</h3> +<h3>Carlton Terrace<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Three days after this it was arranged that Isabel should be taken to +Carlton Terrace to be accepted there into the full good graces of her +future father-in-law, and to go through the pleasant ceremony of +seeing the house in which it was to be her destiny to live as +mistress. What can be more interesting to a girl than this first +visit to her future home? And now Isabel Boncassen was to make her +first visit to the house in Carlton Terrace, which the Duke had +already declared his purpose of surrendering to the young couple. She +was going among very grand things,—so grand that those whose affairs +in life are less magnificent may think that her mind should have +soared altogether above chairs and tables, and reposed itself among +diamonds, gold and silver ornaments, rich necklaces, the old masters, +and alabaster statuary. But Dukes and Duchesses must sit upon +chairs,—or at any rate on sofas,—as well as their poorer brethren, +and probably have the same regard for their comfort. Isabel was not +above her future furniture, or the rooms that were to be her rooms, +or the stairs which she would have to tread, or the pillow on which +her head must rest. She had never yet seen even the outside of the +house in which she was to live, and was now prepared to make her +visit with as much enthusiasm as though her future abode was to be +prepared for her in a small house in a small street beyond Islington.</p> + +<p>But the Duke was no doubt more than the house, the father-in-law more +than the tables. Isabel, in the ordinary way of society, he had +already known almost with intimacy. She, the while, had been well +aware that if all things could possibly be made to run smoothly with +her, this lordly host, who was so pleasantly courteous to her, would +become her father-in-law. But she had known also that he, in his +courtesy, had been altogether unaware of any such intention on her +part, and that she would now present herself to him in an aspect very +different from that in which she had hitherto been regarded. She was +well aware that the Duke had not wished to take her into his +family,—would not himself have chosen her for his son's wife. She +had seen enough to make her sure that he had even chosen another +bride for his heir. She had been too clever not to perceive that Lady +Mabel Grex had been not only selected,—but almost accepted as though +the thing had been certain. She had learned nearly the whole truth +from Silverbridge, who was not good at keeping a secret from one to +whom his heart was open. That story had been all but read by her with +exactness. "I cannot lose you now," she had said to him, leaning on +his arm;—"I cannot afford to lose you now. But I fear that someone +else is losing you." To this he answered nothing, but simply pressed +her closer to his side. "Someone else," she continued, "who perhaps +may have reason to think that you have injured her." "No," he said +boldly; "no; there is no such person." For he had never ceased to +assure himself that in all that matter with Mabel Grex he had been +guilty of no treachery. There had been a moment, indeed, in which she +might have taken him; but she had chosen to let it pass from her. All +of which, or nearly all of which,—Isabel now saw, and had seen also +that the Duke had been a consenting party to that other arrangement. +She had reason therefore to doubt the manner of her acceptance.</p> + +<p>But she had been accepted. She had made such acceptance by him a +stipulation in her acceptance of his son. She was sure of the ground +on which she trod and was determined to carry herself, if not with +pride, yet with dignity. There might be difficulties before her, but +it should not be her fault if she were not as good a Countess, +and,—when time would have it so,—as good a Duchess as another.</p> + +<p>The visit was made not quite in the fashion in which Silverbridge +himself had wished. His idea had been to call for Isabel in his cab +and take her down to Carlton Terrace. "Mother must go with me," she +had said. Then he looked blank,—as he could look when he was +disappointed, as he had looked when she would not talk to him at the +lunch, when she told him that it was not her business to entertain +him. "Don't be selfish," she added, laughing. "Do you think that +mother will not want to have seen the house that I am to live in?"</p> + +<p>"She shall come afterwards as often as she likes."</p> + +<p>"What,—paying me morning visits from New York! She must come now, if +you please. Love me, love my mother."</p> + +<p>"I am awfully fond of her," said Silverbridge, who felt that he +really had behaved well to the old lady.</p> + +<p>"So am I,—and therefore she shall go and see the house now. You are +as good as gold,—and do everything just as I tell you. But a good +time is coming, when I shall have to do everything that you tell me." +Then it was arranged that Mrs. and Miss Boncassen were to be taken +down to the house in their own carriage, and were to be received at +the door by Lord Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>Another arrangement had also been made. Isabel was to be taken to the +Duke immediately upon her arrival and to be left for awhile with him, +alone, so that he might express himself as he might find fit to do to +this newly-adopted child. It was a matter to him of such importance +that nothing remaining to him in his life could equal it. It was not +simply that she was to be the wife of his son,—though that in itself +was a consideration very sacred. Had it been Gerald who was bringing +to him a bride, the occasion would have had less of awe. But this +girl, this American girl, was to be the mother and grandmother of +future Dukes of Omnium,—the ancestress, it was to be hoped, of all +future Dukes of Omnium! By what she might be, by what she might have +in her of mental fibre, of high or low quality, of true or untrue +womanliness, were to be fashioned those who in days to come might be +amongst the strongest and most faithful bulwarks of the constitution. +An England without a Duke of Omnium,—or at any rate without any +Duke,—what would it be? And yet he knew that with bad Dukes his +country would be in worse stress than though she had none at all. An +aristocracy;—yes; but an aristocracy that shall be of the very best! +He believed himself thoroughly in his order; but if his order, or +many of his order, should become as was now Lord Grex, then, he +thought, that his order not only must go to the wall but that, in the +cause of humanity, it had better do so. With all this daily, hourly, +always in his mind, this matter of the choice of a wife for his heir +was to him of solemn importance.</p> + +<p>When they arrived Silverbridge was there and led them first of all +into the dining-room. "My!" said Mrs. Boncassen, as she looked around +her. "I thought that our Fifth Avenue parlours whipped everything in +the way of city houses."</p> + +<p>"What a nice little room for Darby and Joan to sit down to eat a +mutton-chop in," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"It's a beastly great barrack," said Silverbridge;—"but the best of +it is that we never use it. We'll have a cosy little place for Darby +and Joan;—you'll see. Now come to the governor. I've got to leave +you with him."</p> + +<p>"Oh me! I am in such a fright."</p> + +<p>"He can't eat you," said Mrs. Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"And he won't even bite," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"I should not mind that because I could bite again. But if he looks +as though he thought I shouldn't do, I shall drop."</p> + +<p>"My belief is that he's almost as much in love with you as I am," +said Silverbridge, as he took her to the door of the Duke's room. +"Here we are, sir."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the Duke, rising up and coming to her, "I am very +glad to see you. It is good of you to come to me." Then he took her +in both his hands and kissed her forehead and her lips. She, as she +put her face up to him, stood quite still in his embrace, but her +eyes were bright with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Shall I leave her?" said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"For a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Don't keep her too long, for I want to take her all over the house."</p> + +<p>"A few minutes,—and then I will bring her up to the drawing-room." +Upon this the door was closed, and Isabel was alone with her new +father. "And so, my dear, you are to be my child."</p> + +<p>"If you will have me."</p> + +<p>"Come here and sit down by me. Your father has already told you +that;—has he not?"</p> + +<p>"He has told me that you had consented."</p> + +<p>"And Silverbridge has said as much?"</p> + +<p>"I would sooner hear it from you than from either of them."</p> + +<p>"Then hear it from me. You shall be my child. And if you will love me +you shall be very dear to me. You shall be my own child,—as dear as +my own. I must either love his wife very dearly, or else I must be an +unhappy man. And she must love me dearly, or I must be unhappy."</p> + +<p>"I will love you," she said, pressing his hand.</p> + +<p>"And now let me say some few words to you, only let there be no +bitterness in them to your young heart. When I say that I take you to +my heart, you may be sure that I do so thoroughly. You shall be as +dear to me and as near as though you had been all English."</p> + +<p>"Shall I?"</p> + +<p>"There shall no difference be made. My boy's wife shall be my +daughter in very deed. But I had not wished it to be so."</p> + +<p>"I knew that;—but could I have given him up?"</p> + +<p>"He at any rate could not give you up. There were little +prejudices;—you can understand that."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes."</p> + +<p>"We who wear black coats could not bring ourselves readily to put on +scarlet garments; nor should we sit comfortably with our legs crossed +like Turks."</p> + +<p>"I am your scarlet coat and your cross-legged Turk," she said, with +feigned self-reproach in her voice, but with a sparkle of mirth in +her eye.</p> + +<p>"But when I have once got into my scarlet coat I can be very proud of +it, and when I am once seated in my divan I shall find it of all +postures the easiest. Do you understand me?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Not a shade of any prejudice shall be left to darken my mind. There +shall be no feeling but that you are in truth his chosen wife. After +all neither can country, nor race, nor rank, nor wealth, make a good +woman. Education can do much. But nature must have done much also."</p> + +<p>"Do not expect too much of me."</p> + +<p>"I will so expect that all shall be taken for the best. You know, I +think, that I have liked you since I first saw you."</p> + +<p>"I know that you have always been good to me."</p> + +<p>"I have liked you from the first. That you are lovely perhaps is no +merit; though, to speak the truth, I am well pleased that +Silverbridge should have found so much beauty."</p> + +<p>"That is all a matter of taste, I suppose," she said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"But there is much that a young woman may do for herself which I +think you have done. A silly girl, though she had been a second +Helen, would hardly have satisfied me."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps him," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Or him; and it is in that feeling that I find my chief +satisfaction,—that he should have had the sense to have liked such a +one as you better than others. Now I have said it. As not being one +of us I did at first object to his choice. As being what you are +yourself, I am altogether reconciled to it. Do not keep him long +waiting."</p> + +<p>"I do not think he likes to be kept waiting for anything."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not. I dare say not. And now there is one thing else." +Then the Duke unlocked a little drawer that was close to his hand, +and taking out a ring put it on her finger. It was a bar of diamonds, +perhaps a dozen of them, fixed in a little circlet of gold. "This +must never leave you," he said.</p> + +<p>"It never shall,—having come from you."</p> + +<p>"It was the first present that I gave to my wife, and it is the first +that I give to you. You may imagine how sacred it is to me. On no +other hand could it be worn without something which to me would be +akin to sacrilege. Now I must not keep you longer or Silverbridge +will be storming about the house. He of course will tell me when it +is to be; but do not you keep him long waiting." Then he kissed her +and led her up into the drawing-room. When he had spoken a word of +greeting to Mrs. Boncassen, he left them to their own devices.</p> + +<p>After that they spent the best part of an hour in going over the +house; but even that was done in a manner unsatisfactory to +Silverbridge. Wherever Isabel went, there Mrs. Boncassen went also. +There might have been some fun in showing even the back kitchens to +his bride-elect, by herself;—but there was none in wandering about +those vast underground regions with a stout lady who was really +interested with the cooking apparatus and the wash-houses. The +bedrooms one after another became tedious to him when Mrs. Boncassen +would make communications respecting each of them to her daughter. +"That is Gerald's room," said Silverbridge. "You have never seen +Gerald. He is such a brick." Mrs. Boncassen was charmed with the +whips and sticks and boxing-gloves in Gerald's room, and expressed an +opinion that young men in the States mostly carried their +knick-knacks about with them to the Universities. When she was told +that he had another collection of "knick-knacks" at Matching, and +another at Oxford, she thought that he was a very extravagant young +man. Isabel, who had heard all about the gambling in Scotland, looked +round at her lover and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Boncassen, as they took their leave, "it +is a very grand house, and I hope with all my heart you may have your +health there and be happy. But I don't know that you'll be any +happier because it's so big."</p> + +<p>"Wait till you see Gatherum," said Silverbridge. "That, I own, does +make me unhappy. It has been calculated that three months at Gatherum +Castle would drive a philosopher mad."</p> + +<p>In all this there had been a certain amount of disappointment for +Silverbridge; but on that evening, before dinner in Brook Street, he +received compensation. As the day was one somewhat peculiar in its +nature he decided that it should be kept altogether as a holiday, and +he did not therefore go down to the House. And not going to the House +of course he spent the time with the Boncassens. "You know you ought +to go," Isabel said to him when they found themselves alone together +in the back drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Of course I ought."</p> + +<p>"Then go. Do you think I would keep a Briton from his duties?"</p> + +<p>"Not though the constitution should fall in ruins. Do you suppose +that a man wants no rest after inspecting all the pots and pans in +that establishment? A woman, I believe, could go on doing that kind +of thing all day long."</p> + +<p>"You should remember at least that the—woman was interesting herself +about your pots and pans."</p> + +<p>"And now, Bella, tell me what the governor said to you." Then she +showed him the ring. "Did he give you that?" She nodded her head in +assent. "I did not think he would ever have parted with that."</p> + +<p>"It was your mother's."</p> + +<p>"She wore it always. I almost think that I never saw her hand without +it. He would not have given you that unless he had meant to be very +good to you."</p> + +<p>"He was very good to me. Silverbridge, I have a great deal to do, to +learn to be your wife."</p> + +<p>"I'll teach you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you'll teach me. But will you teach me right? There is +something almost awful in your father's serious dignity and solemn +appreciation of the responsibilities of his position. Will you ever +come to that?"</p> + +<p>"I shall never be a great man as he is."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that life to him is a load;—which he does not object +to carry, but which he knows must be carried with a great struggle."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it ought to be so with everyone."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "but the higher you put your foot on the ladder the +more constant should be your thought that your stepping requires +care. I fear that I am climbing too high."</p> + +<p>"You can't come down now, my young woman."</p> + +<p>"I have to go on now,—and do it as best I can. I will try to do my +best. I will try to do my best. I told him so, and now I tell you so. +I will try to do my best."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps after all I am only a 'pert poppet'," she said half an hour +afterwards, for Silverbridge had told her of that terrible mistake +made by poor Dolly Longstaff.</p> + +<p>"Brute!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. And when we are settled down in the real Darby-and-Joan +way I shall hope to see Mr. Longstaff very often. I daresay he won't +call me a pert poppet, and I shall not remind him of the word. But I +shall always think of it; and remembering the way in which my +character struck an educated Englishman,—who was not altogether +ill-disposed towards me,—I may hope to improve myself."</p> + + +<p><a name="c73" id="c73"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIII</h3> +<h3>"I Have Never Loved You"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Silverbridge had now been in town three or four weeks, and Lady Mabel +Grex had also been in London all that time, and yet he had not seen +her. She had told him that she loved him and had asked him plainly to +make her his wife. He had told her that he could not do so,—that he +was altogether resolved to make another woman his wife. Then she had +rebuked him, and had demanded from him how he had dared to treat her +as he had done. His conscience was clear. He had his own code of +morals as to such matters, and had, as he regarded it, kept within +the law. But she thought that she was badly treated, and had declared +that she was now left out in the cold for ever through his treachery. +Then her last word had been almost the worst of all, "Who can tell +what may come to pass?"—showing too plainly that she would not even +now give up her hope. Before the month was up she wrote to him as +follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Lord Silverbridge</span>,</p> + +<p>Why do you not come and see me? Are friends so plentiful +with you that one so staunch as I may be thrown over? But +of course I know why you do not come. Put all that +aside,—and come. I cannot hurt you. I have learned to +feel that certain things which the world regards as too +awful to be talked of,—except in the way of scandal, may +be discussed and then laid aside just like other subjects. +What though I wear a wig or a wooden leg, I may still be +fairly comfortable among my companions unless I crucify +myself by trying to hide my misfortune. It is not the +presence of the skeleton that crushes us. Not even that +will hurt us much if we let him go about the house as he +lists. It is the everlasting effort which the horror makes +to peep out of his cupboard that robs us of our ease. At +any rate come and see me.</p> + +<p>Of course I know that you are to be married to Miss +Boncassen. Who does not know it? The trumpeters have been +at work for the last week.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your very sincere friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Mabel</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>He wished that she had not written. Of course he must go to her. And +though there was a word or two in her letter which angered him, his +feelings towards her were kindly. Had not that American angel flown +across the Atlantic to his arms he could have been well content to +make her his wife. But the interview at the present moment could +hardly be other than painful. She could, she said, talk of her own +misfortunes, but the subject would be very painful to him. It was not +to him a skeleton, to be locked out of sight; but it had been a +misfortune, and the sooner that such misfortunes could be forgotten +the better.</p> + +<p>He knew what she meant about trumpeters. She had intended to signify +that Isabel in her pride had boasted of her matrimonial prospects. Of +course there had been trumpets. Are there not always trumpets when a +marriage is contemplated, magnificent enough to be called an +alliance? As for that he himself had blown the trumpets. He had told +everybody that he was going to be married to Miss Boncassen. Isabel +had blown no trumpets. In her own straightforward way she had told +the truth to whom it concerned. Of course he would go and see Lady +Mabel, but he trusted that for her own sake nothing would be said +about trumpets.</p> + +<p>"So you have come at last," Mabel said when he entered the room. +"No;—Miss Cassewary is not here. As I wanted to see you alone I got +her to go out this morning. Why did you not come before?"</p> + +<p>"You said in your letter that you knew why."</p> + +<p>"But in saying so I was accusing you of cowardice;—was I not?"</p> + +<p>"It was not cowardice."</p> + +<p>"Why then did you not come?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would hardly wish to see me so soon,—after what +passed."</p> + +<p>"That is honest at any rate. You felt that I must be too much ashamed +of what I said to be able to look you in the face."</p> + +<p>"Not that exactly."</p> + +<p>"Any other man would have felt the same, but no other man would be +honest enough to tell me so. I do not think that ever in your life +you have constrained yourself to the civility of a lie."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"To be civil and false is often better than to be harsh and true. I +may be soothed by the courtesy and yet not deceived by the lie. But +what I told you in my letter,—which I hope you have +<span class="nowrap">destroyed—"</span></p> + +<p>"I will destroy it."</p> + +<p>"Do. It was not intended for the partner of your future joys. As I +told you then, I can talk freely. Why not? We know it,—both of us. +How your conscience may be I cannot tell; but mine is clear from that +soil with which you think it should be smirched."</p> + +<p>"I think nothing of the sort."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Silverbridge, you do. You have said to yourself this;—That +girl has determined to get me, and she has not scrupled as to how she +would do it."</p> + +<p>"No such idea has ever crossed my mind."</p> + +<p>"But you have never told yourself of the encouragement which you gave +me. Such condemnation as I have spoken of would have been just if my +efforts had been sanctioned by no words, no looks, no deeds from you. +Did you give me warrant for thinking that you were my lover?"</p> + +<p>That theory by which he had justified himself to himself seemed to +fall away from him under her questioning. He could not now remember +his words to her in those old days before Miss Boncassen had crossed +his path; but he did know that he had once intended to make her +understand that he loved her. She had not understood him;—or, +understanding, had not accepted his words; and therefore he had +thought himself free. But it now seemed that he had not been entitled +so to regard himself. There she sat, looking at him, waiting for his +answer; and he who had been so sure that he had committed no sin +against her, had not a word to say to her.</p> + +<p>"I want your answer to that, Lord Silverbridge. I have told you that +I would have no skeleton in the cupboard. Down at Matching, and +before that at Killancodlem, I appealed to you, asking you to take me +as your wife."</p> + +<p>"Hardly that."</p> + +<p>"Altogether that! I will have nothing denied that I have done,—nor +will I be ashamed of anything. I did do so,—even after this +infatuation. I thought then that one so volatile might perhaps fly +back again."</p> + +<p>"I shall not do that," said he, frowning at her.</p> + +<p>"You need trouble yourself with no assurance, my friend. Let us +understand each other now. I am not now supposing that you can fly +back again. You have found your perch, and you must settle on it like +a good domestic barn-door fowl." Again he scowled. If she were too +hard upon him he would certainly turn upon her. "No; you will not fly +back again now;—but was I, or was I not, justified when you came to +Killancodlem in thinking that my lover had come there?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell? It is my own justification I am thinking of."</p> + +<p>"I see all that. But we cannot both be justified. Did you mean me to +suppose that you were speaking to me words in earnest when +there,—sitting in that very spot,—you spoke to me of your love."</p> + +<p>"Did I speak of my love?"</p> + +<p>"Did you speak of your love! And now, Silverbridge,—for if there be +an English gentleman on earth I think that you are one,—as a +gentleman tell me this. Did you not even tell your father that I +should be your wife? I know you did."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Men such as you and he, who cannot even lie with your eyelids, who +will not condescend to cover up a secret by a moment of feigned +inanimation, have many voices. He did tell me; but he broke no +confidence. He told me, but did not mean to tell me. Now you also +have told me."</p> + +<p>"I did. I told him so. And then I changed my mind."</p> + +<p>"I know you changed your mind. Men often do. A pinker pink, a whiter +white,—a finger that will press you just half an ounce the +closer,—a cheek that will consent to let itself come just a little +<span class="nowrap">nearer—!"</span></p> + +<p>"No; no; no!" It was because Isabel had not easily consented to such +approaches!</p> + +<p>"Trifles such as these will do it;—and some such trifles have done +it with you. It would be beneath me to make comparisons where I might +seem to be the gainer. I grant her beauty. She is very lovely. She +has succeeded."</p> + +<p>"I have succeeded."</p> + +<p>"But—I am justified, and you are condemned. Is it not so? Tell me +like a man."</p> + +<p>"You are justified."</p> + +<p>"And you are condemned? When you told me that I should be your wife, +and then told your father the same story, was I to think it all meant +nothing! Have you deceived me?"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean it."</p> + +<p>"Have you deceived me? What; you cannot deny it, and yet have not the +manliness to own it to a poor woman who can only save herself from +humiliation by extorting the truth from you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mabel, I am so sorry it should be so."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are,—with a sorrow that will last till she is again +sitting close to you. Nor, Silverbridge, do I wish it to be longer. +No;—no;—no. Your fault after all has not been great. You deceived, +but did not mean to deceive me?"</p> + +<p>"Never; never."</p> + +<p>"And I fancy you have never known how much you bore about with you. +Your modesty has been so perfect that you have not thought of +yourself as more than other men. You have forgotten that you have had +in your hand the disposal to some one woman of a throne in Paradise."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you thought of that."</p> + +<p>"But I did. Why should I tell falsehoods now? I have determined that +you should know everything,—but I could better confess to you my own +sins when I had shown that you too have not been innocent. Not think +of it! Do not men think of high titles and great wealth and power and +place? And if men, why should not women? Do not men try to get +them;—and are they not even applauded for their energy? A woman has +but one way to try. I tried."</p> + +<p>"I do not think it was all for that."</p> + +<p>"How shall I answer that without a confession which even I am not +hardened enough to make? In truth, Silverbridge, I have never loved +you."</p> + +<p>He drew himself up slowly before he answered her, and gradually +assumed a look very different from that easy boyish smile which was +customary to him. "I am glad of that," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why are you glad?"</p> + +<p>"Now I can have no regrets."</p> + +<p>"You need have none. It was necessary to me that I should have my +little triumph;—that I should show you that I knew how far you had +wronged me! But now I wish that you should know everything. I have +never loved you."</p> + +<p>"There is an end of it then."</p> + +<p>"But I have liked you so well,—so much better than all others! A +dozen men have asked me to marry them. And though they might be +nothing till they made that request, then they became—things of +horror to me. But you were not a thing of horror. I could have become +your wife, and I think that I could have learned to love you."</p> + +<p>"It is best as it is."</p> + +<p>"I ought to say so too; but I have a doubt I should have liked to be +Duchess of Omnium, and perhaps I might have fitted the place better +than one who can as yet know but little of its duties or its +privileges. I may, perhaps, think that that other arrangement would +have been better even for you."</p> + +<p>"I can take care of myself in that."</p> + +<p>"I should have married you without loving you, but I should have done +so determined to serve you with a devotion which a woman who does +love hardly thinks necessary. I would have so done my duty that you +should never have guessed that my heart had been in the keeping of +another man."</p> + +<p>"Another man!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; of course. If there had been no other man, why not you? Am I so +hard, do you think that I can love no one? Are you not such a one +that a girl would naturally love,—were she not preoccupied? That a +woman should love seems as necessary as that a man should not."</p> + +<p>"A man can love too."</p> + +<p>"No;—hardly. He can admire, and he can like, and he can fondle and +be fond. He can admire, and approve, and perhaps worship. He can know +of a woman that she is part of himself, the most sacred part, and +therefore will protect her from the very winds. But all that will not +make love. It does not come to a man that to be separated from a +woman is to be dislocated from his very self. A man has but one +centre, and that is himself. A woman has two. Though the second may +never be seen by her, may live in the arms of another, may do all for +that other that man can do for woman,—still, still, though he be +half the globe asunder from her, still he is to her the half of her +existence. If she really love, there is, I fancy, no end of it. To +the end of time I shall love Frank Tregear."</p> + +<p>"Tregear!"</p> + +<p>"Who else?"</p> + +<p>"He is engaged to Mary."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is. Why not;—to her or whomsoever else he might like +best? He is as true I doubt not to your sister as you are to your +American beauty,—or as you would have been to me had fancy held. He +used to love me."</p> + +<p>"You were always friends."</p> + +<p>"Always;—dear friends. And he would have loved me if a man were +capable of loving. But he could sever himself from me easily, just +when he was told to do so. I thought that I could do the same. But I +cannot. A jackal is born a jackal, and not a lion, and cannot help +himself. So is a woman born—a woman. They are clinging, parasite +things, which cannot but adhere; though they destroy themselves by +adhering. Do not suppose that I take a pride in it. I would give one +of my eyes to be able to disregard him."</p> + +<p>"Time will do it."</p> + +<p>"Yes; time,—that brings wrinkles and rouge-pots and rheumatism. +Though I have so hated those men as to be unable to endure them, +still I want some man's house, and his name,—some man's bread and +wine,—some man's jewels and titles and woods and parks and +gardens,—if I can get them. Time can help a man in his sorrow. If he +begins at forty to make speeches, or to win races, or to breed oxen, +he can yet live a prosperous life. Time is but a poor consoler for a +young woman who has to be married."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mabel."</p> + +<p>"And now let there be not a word more about it. I know—that I can +trust you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you may."</p> + +<p>"Though you will tell her everything else you will not tell her +this."</p> + +<p>"No;—not this."</p> + +<p>"And surely you will not tell your sister!"</p> + +<p>"I shall tell no one."</p> + +<p>"It is because you are so true that I have dared to trust you. I had +to justify myself,—and then to confess. Had I at that one moment +taken you at your word, you would never have known anything of all +this. 'There is a tide in the affairs of men—!' But I let the flood +go by! I shall not see you again now before you are married; but come +to me afterwards."</p> + + +<p><a name="c74" id="c74"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIV</h3> +<h3>"Let Us Drink a Glass of Wine Together"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Silverbridge pondered it all much as he went home. What a terrible +story was that he had heard! The horror to him was chiefly in +this,—that she should yet be driven to marry some man without even +fancying that she could love him! And this was Lady Mabel Grex, who, +on his own first entrance into London life, now not much more than +twelve months ago, had seemed to him to stand above all other girls +in beauty, charm, and popularity!</p> + +<p>As he opened the door of the house with his latch-key, who should be +coming out but Frank Tregear,—Frank Tregear with his arm in a sling, +but still with an unmistakable look of general satisfaction. "When on +earth did you come up?" asked Silverbridge. Tregear told him that he +had arrived on the previous evening from Harrington. "And why? The +doctor would not have let you come if he could have helped it."</p> + +<p>"When he found he could not help it, he did let me come. I am nearly +all right. If I had been nearly all wrong I should have had to come."</p> + +<p>"And what are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"Well; if you'll allow me I'll go back with you for a moment. What do +you think I have been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Have you seen my sister?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have seen your sister. And I have done better than that. I +have seen your father. Lord Silverbridge,—behold your +brother-in-law."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that it is arranged?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He made me understand by most unanswerable arguments, that I had no +business to think of such a thing. I did not fight the point with +him,—but simply stood there, as conclusive evidence of my business. +He told me that we should have nothing to live on unless he gave us +an income. I assured him that I would never ask him for a shilling. +'But I cannot allow her to marry a man without an income,' he said."</p> + +<p>"I know his way so well."</p> + +<p>"I had just two facts to go upon,—that I would not give her up, and +that she would not give me up. When I pointed that out he tore his +hair,—in a mild way, and said that he did not understand that kind +of thing at all."</p> + +<p>"And yet he gave way."</p> + +<p>"Of course he did. They say that when a king of old would consent to +see a petitioner for his life, he was bound by his royalty to mercy. +So it was with the Duke. Then, very early in the argument, he forgot +himself, and called her—Mary. I knew he had thrown up the sponge +then."</p> + +<p>"How did he give way at last?"</p> + +<p>"He asked me what were my ideas about life in general. I said that I +thought Parliament was a good sort of thing, that I was lucky enough +to have a seat, and that I should take lodgings somewhere in +Westminster till—. 'Till what?' he asked. 'Till something is +settled,' I replied. Then he turned away from me and remained silent. +'May I see Lady Mary?' I asked. 'Yes; you may see her,' he replied, +as he rang the bell. Then when the servant was gone he stopped me. 'I +love her too dearly to see her grieve,' he said. 'I hope you will +show that you can be worthy of her.' Then I made some sort of +protestation and went upstairs. While I was with Mary there came a +message to me, telling me to come to dinner."</p> + +<p>"The Boncassens are all dining here."</p> + +<p>"Then we shall be a family party. So far I suppose I may say it is +settled. When he will let us marry heaven only knows. Mary declares +that she will not press him. I certainly cannot do so. It is all a +matter of money."</p> + +<p>"He won't care about that."</p> + +<p>"But he may perhaps think that a little patience will do us good. You +will have to soften him." Then Silverbridge told all that he knew +about himself. He was to be married in May, was to go to Matching for +a week or two after his wedding, was then to see the Session to an +end, and after that to travel with his wife in the United States. "I +don't suppose we shall be allowed to run about the world together so +soon as that," said Tregear, "but I am too well satisfied with my +day's work to complain."</p> + +<p>"Did he say what he meant to give her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no;—nor even that he meant to give her anything. I should +not dream of asking a question about it. Nor when he makes any +proposition shall I think of having any opinion of my own."</p> + +<p>"He'll make it all right;—for her sake, you know."</p> + +<p>"My chief object as regards him, is that he should not think that I +have been looking after her money. Well; good-bye. I suppose we shall +all meet at dinner?"</p> + +<p>When Tregear left him, Silverbridge went to his father's room. He was +anxious that they should understand each other as to Mary's +engagement.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were at the House," said the Duke.</p> + +<p>"I was going there, but I met Tregear at the door. He tells me you +have accepted him for Mary."</p> + +<p>"I wish that he had never seen her. Do you think that a man can be +thwarted in everything and not feel it?"</p> + +<p>"I thought—you had reconciled yourself—to Isabel."</p> + +<p>"If it were that alone I could do so the more easily, because +personally she wins upon me. And this man, too;—it is not that I +find fault with himself."</p> + +<p>"He is in all respects a high-minded gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I hope so. But yet, had he a right to set his heart there, where he +could make his fortune,—having none of his own?"</p> + +<p>"He did not think of that."</p> + +<p>"He should have thought of it. A man does not allow himself to love +without any consideration or purpose. You say that he is a gentleman. +A gentleman should not look to live on means brought to him by a +wife. You say that he did not."</p> + +<p>"He did not think of it."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman should do more than not think of it. He should think +that it shall not be so. A man should own his means or should earn +them."</p> + +<p>"How many men, sir, do neither?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know," said the Duke. "Such a doctrine nowadays is caviare to +the general. One must live as others live around one, I suppose. I +could not see her suffer. It was too much for me. When I became +convinced that this was no temporary passion, no romantic love which +time might banish, that she was of such a temperament that she could +not change,—then I had to give way. Gerald, I suppose, will bring me +some kitchen-maid for his wife."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, you should not say that to me."</p> + +<p>"No;—I should not have said it to you. I beg your pardon, +Silverbridge." Then he paused a moment, turning over certain thoughts +within his own bosom. "Perhaps, after all, it is well that a pride of +which I am conscious should be rebuked. And it may be that the rebuke +has come in such a form that I should be thankful. I know that I can +love Isabel."</p> + +<p>"That to me will be everything."</p> + +<p>"And this young man has nothing that should revolt me. I think he has +been wrong. But now that I have said it I will let all that pass from +me. He will dine with us to-day."</p> + +<p>Silverbridge then went up to see his sister. "So you have settled +your little business, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Silverbridge, you will wish me joy?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Papa is so stern with me. Of course he has given way, and of course +I am grateful. But he looks at me as though I had done something to +be forgiven."</p> + +<p>"Take the good the gods provide you, Mary. That will all come right."</p> + +<p>"But I have not done anything wrong. Have I?"</p> + +<p>"That is a matter of opinion. How can I answer about you when I don't +quite know whether I have done anything wrong or not myself? I am +going to marry the girl I have chosen. That's enough for me."</p> + +<p>"But you did change."</p> + +<p>"We need not say anything about that."</p> + +<p>"But I have never changed. Papa just told me that he would consent, +and that I might write to him. So I did write, and he came. But papa +looks at me as though I had broken his heart."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is, Mary. You expect too much from him. He has +not had his own way with either of us, and of course he feels it."</p> + +<p>As Tregear had said, there was quite a family party in Carlton +Terrace, though as yet the family was not bound together by family +ties. All the Boncassens were there, the father, the mother, and the +promised bride. Mr. Boncassen bore himself with more ease than any +one in the company, having at his command a gift of manliness which +enabled him to regard this marriage exactly as he would have done any +other. America was not so far distant but what he would be able to +see his girl occasionally. He liked the young man and he believed in +the comfort of wealth. Therefore he was satisfied. But when the +marriage was spoken of, or written of, as "an alliance," then he +would say a hard word or two about dukes and lords in general. On +such an occasion as this he was happy and at his ease.</p> + +<p>So much could not be said for his wife, with whom the Duke attempted +to place himself on terms of family equality. But in doing this he +failed to hide the attempt even from her, and she broke down under +it. Had he simply walked into the room with her as he would have done +on any other occasion, and then remarked that the frost was keen or +the thaw disagreeable, it would have been better for her. But when he +told her that he hoped she would often make herself at home in that +house, and looked, as he said it, as though he were asking her to +take a place among the goddesses of Olympus, she was troubled as to +her answer. "Oh, my Lord Duke," she said, "when I think of Isabel +living here and being called by such a name, it almost upsets me."</p> + +<p>Isabel had all her father's courage, but she was more sensitive; and +though she would have borne her honours well, was oppressed by the +feeling that the weight was too much for her mother. She could not +keep her ear from listening to her mother's words, or her eye from +watching her mother's motions. She was prepared to carry her mother +everywhere. "As other girls have to be taken with their belongings, +so must I, if I be taken at all." This she had said plainly enough. +There should be no division between her and her mother. But still, +knowing that her mother was not quite at ease, she was hardly at ease +herself.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge came in at the last moment, and of course occupied a +chair next to Isabel. As the House was sitting, it was natural that +he should come up in a flurry. "I left Phineas," he said, "pounding +away in his old style at Sir Timothy. By-the-bye, Isabel, you must +come down some day and hear Sir Timothy badgered. I must be back +again about ten. Well, Gerald, how are they all at Lazarus?" He made +an effort to be free and easy, but even he soon found that it was an +effort.</p> + +<p>Gerald had come up from Oxford for the occasion that he might make +acquaintance with the Boncassens. He had taken Isabel in to dinner, +but had been turned out of his place when his brother came in. He had +been a little confused by the first impression made upon him by Mrs. +Boncassen, and had involuntarily watched his father. "Silver is going +to have an odd sort of a mother-in-law," he said afterwards to Mary, +who remarked in reply that this would not signify, as the +mother-in-law would be in New York.</p> + +<p>Tregear's part was very difficult to play. He could not but feel that +though he had succeeded, still he was as yet looked upon askance. +Silverbridge had told him that by degrees the Duke would be won +round, but that it was not to be expected that he should swallow at +once all his regrets. The truth of this could not but be accepted. +The immediate inconvenience, however, was not the less felt. Each and +everyone there knew the position of each and everyone;—but Tregear +felt it difficult to act up to his. He could not play the +well-pleased lover openly, as did Silverbridge. Mary herself was +disposed to be very silent. The heart-breaking tedium of her dull +life had been removed. Her determination had been rewarded. All that +she had wanted had been granted to her, and she was happy. But she +was not prepared to show off her happiness before others. And she was +aware that she was thought to have done evil by introducing her lover +into her august family.</p> + +<p>But it was the Duke who made the greatest efforts, and with the least +success. He had told himself again and again that he was bound by +every sense of duty to swallow all regrets. He had taken himself to +task on this matter. He had done so even out loud to his son. He had +declared that he would "let it all pass from him." But who does not +know how hard it is for a man in such matters to keep his word to +himself? Who has not said to himself at the very moment of his own +delinquency, "Now,—it is now,—at this very instant of time, that I +should crush, and quench, and kill the evil spirit within me; it is +now that I should abate my greed, or smother my ill-humour, or +abandon my hatred. It is now, and here, that I should drive out the +fiend, as I have sworn to myself that I would do,"—and yet has +failed?</p> + +<p>That it would be done, would be done at last, by this man was very +certain. When Silverbridge assured his sister that "it would come all +right very soon," he had understood his father's character. But it +could not be completed quite at once. Had he been required to take +Isabel only to his heart, it would have been comparatively easy. +There are men, who do not seem at first sight very susceptible to +feminine attractions, who nevertheless are dominated by the grace of +flounces, who succumb to petticoats unconsciously, and who are half +in love with every woman merely for her womanhood. So it was with the +Duke. He had given way in regard to Isabel with less than half the +effort that Frank Tregear was likely to cost him.</p> + +<p>"You were not at the House, sir," said Silverbridge when he felt that +there was a pause.</p> + +<p>"No, not to-day." Then there was a pause again.</p> + +<p>"I think that we shall beat Cambridge this year to a moral," said +Gerald, who was sitting at the round table opposite to his father. +Mr. Boncassen, who was next to him, asked, in irony probably rather +than in ignorance, whether the victory was to be achieved by +mathematical or classical proficiency. Gerald turned and looked at +him. "Do you mean to say that you have never heard of the University +boat-races?"</p> + +<p>"Papa, you have disgraced yourself for ever," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Have I, my dear? Yes, I have heard of them. But I thought Lord +Gerald's protestation was too great for a mere aquatic triumph."</p> + +<p>"Now you are poking your fun at me," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Well he may," said the Duke sententiously. "We have laid ourselves +very open to having fun poked at us in this matter."</p> + +<p>"I think, sir," said Tregear, "that they are learning to do the same +sort of thing at the American Universities."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said the Duke in a solemn, dry, funereal tone. And then +all the little life which Gerald's remark about the boat-race had +produced, was quenched at once. The Duke was not angry with Tregear +for his little word of defence,—but he was not able to bring himself +into harmony with this one guest, and was almost savage to him +without meaning it. He was continually asking himself why Destiny had +been so hard upon him as to force him to receive there at his table +as his son-in-law a man who was distasteful to him. And he was +endeavouring to answer the question, taking himself to task and +telling himself that his destiny had done him no injury, and that the +pride which had been wounded was a false pride. He was making a brave +fight; but during the fight he was hardly fit to be the genial father +and father-in-law of young people who were going to be married to one +another. But before the dinner was over he made a great effort. +"Tregear," he said,—and even that was an effort, for he had never +hitherto mentioned the man's name without the formal +Mister,—"Tregear, as this is the first time you have sat at my +table, let me be old-fashioned, and ask you to drink a glass of wine +with me."</p> + +<p>The glass of wine was drunk and the ceremony afforded infinite +satisfaction at least to one person there. Mary could not keep +herself from some expression of joy by pressing her finger for a +moment against her lover's arm. He, though not usually given to such +manifestations, blushed up to his eyes. But the feeling produced on +the company was solemn rather than jovial. Everyone there understood +it all. Mr. Boncassen could read the Duke's mind down to the last +line. Even Mrs. Boncassen was aware that an act of reconciliation had +been intended. "When the governor drank that glass of wine it seemed +as though half the marriage ceremony had been performed," Gerald said +to his brother that evening. When the Duke's glass was replaced on +the table, he himself was conscious of the solemnity of what he had +done, and was half ashamed of it.</p> + +<p>When the ladies had gone upstairs the conversation became political +and lively. The Duke could talk freely about the state of things to +Mr. Boncassen, and was able gradually to include Tregear in the +badinage with which he attacked the Conservatism of his son. And so +the half-hour passed well. Upstairs the two girls immediately came +together, leaving Mrs. Boncassen to chew the cud of the grandeur +around her in the sleepy comfort of an arm-chair. "And so everything +is settled for both of us," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Of course I knew it was to be settled for you. You told me so at +Custins."</p> + +<p>"I did not know it myself then. I only told you that he had asked me. +And you hardly believed me."</p> + +<p>"I certainly believed you."</p> + +<p>"But you knew about—Lady Mabel Grex."</p> + +<p>"I only suspected something, and now I know it was a mistake. It has +never been more than a suspicion."</p> + +<p>"And why, when we were at Custins, did you not tell me about +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I had nothing to tell."</p> + +<p>"I can understand that. But is it not joyful that it should all be +settled? Only poor Lady Mabel! You have got no Lady Mabel to trouble +your conscience." From which it was evident that Silverbridge had not +told all.</p> + + +<p><a name="c75" id="c75"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXV</h3> +<h3>The Major's Story<br /> </h3> + + +<p>By the end of March Isabel was in Paris, whither she had forbidden +her lover to follow her. Silverbridge was therefore reduced to the +shifts of a bachelor's life, in which his friends seemed to think +that he ought now to take special delight. Perhaps he did not take +much delight in them. He was no doubt impatient to commence that +steady married life for which he had prepared himself. But +nevertheless, just at present, he lived a good deal at the +Beargarden. Where was he to live? The Boncassens were in Paris, his +sister was at Matching with a houseful of other Pallisers, and his +father was again deep in politics.</p> + +<p>Of course he was much in the House of Commons, but that also was +stupid. Indeed everything would be stupid till Isabel came back. +Perhaps dinner was more comfortable at the club than at the House. +And then, as everybody knew, it was a good thing to change the scene. +Therefore he dined at the club, and though he would keep his hansom +and go down to the House again in the course of the evening, he spent +many long hours at the Beargarden. "There'll very soon be an end of +this as far as you are concerned," said Mr. Lupton to him one evening +as they were sitting in the smoking-room after dinner.</p> + +<p>"The sooner the better as far as this place is concerned."</p> + +<p>"This place is as good as any other. For the matter of that I like +the Beargarden since we got rid of two or three not very charming +characters."</p> + +<p>"You mean my poor friend Tifto," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"No;—I was not thinking of Tifto. There were one or two here who +were quite as bad as Tifto. I wonder what has become of that poor +devil?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know in the least. You heard of that row about the hounds?"</p> + +<p>"And his letter to you."</p> + +<p>"He wrote to me,—and I answered him, as you know. But whither he +vanished, or what he is doing, or how he is living, I have not the +least idea."</p> + +<p>"Gone to join those other fellows abroad, I should say. Among them +they got a lot of money,—as the Duke ought to remember."</p> + +<p>"He is not with them," said Silverbridge, as though he were in some +degree mourning over the fate of his unfortunate friend.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Captain Green was the leader in all that?"</p> + +<p>"Now it is all done and gone I own to a certain regard for the Major. +He was true to me till he thought I snubbed him. I would not let him +go down to Silverbridge with me. I always thought that I drove the +poor Major to his malpractices."</p> + +<p>At this moment Dolly Longstaff sauntered into the room and came up to +them. It may be remembered that Dolly had declared his purpose of +emigrating. As soon as he heard that the Duke's heir had serious +thoughts of marrying the lady whom he loved he withdrew at once from +the contest, but, as he did so, he acknowledged that there could be +no longer a home for him in the country which Isabel was to inhabit +as the wife of another man. Gradually, however, better thoughts +returned to him. After all, what was she but a "pert poppet"? He +determined that marriage "clips a fellow's wings confoundedly," and +so he set himself to enjoy life after his old fashion. There was +perhaps a little swagger as he threw himself into a chair and +addressed the happy lover. "I'll be shot if I didn't meet Tifto at +the corner of the street."</p> + +<p>"Tifto!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Tifto. He looked awfully seedy, with a greatcoat buttoned up to +his chin, a shabby hat and old gloves."</p> + +<p>"Did he speak to you?" asked Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"No;—nor I to him. He hadn't time to think whether he would speak or +not, and you may be sure I didn't."</p> + +<p>Nothing further was said about the man, but Silverbridge was uneasy +and silent. When his cigar was finished he got up, saying that he +should go back to the House. As he left the club he looked about him +as though expecting to see his old friend, and when he had passed +through the first street and had got into the Haymarket there he was! +The Major came up to him, touched his hat, asked to be allowed to say +a few words. "I don't think it can do any good," said Silverbridge. +The man had not attempted to shake hands with him, or affected +familiarity; but seemed to be thoroughly humiliated. "I don't think I +can be of any service to you, and therefore I had rather decline."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to be of any service, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"Then what's the good?"</p> + +<p>"I have something to say. May I come to you to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>Then Silverbridge allowed himself to make an appointment, and an hour +was named at which Tifto might call in Carlton Terrace. He felt that +he almost owed some reparation to the wretched man,—whom he had +unfortunately admitted among his friends, whom he had used, and to +whom he had been uncourteous. Exactly at the hour named the Major was +shown into his room.</p> + +<p>Dolly had said that he was shabby,—but the man was altered rather +than shabby. He still had rings on his fingers and studs in his +shirt, and a jewelled pin in his cravat;—but he had shaven off his +moustache and the tuft from his chin, and his hair had been cut +short, and in spite of his jewellery there was a hang-dog look about +him. "I've got something that I particularly want to say to you, my +Lord." Silverbridge would not shake hands with him, but could not +refrain from offering him a chair.</p> + +<p>"Well;—you can say it now."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—but it isn't so very easy to be said. There are some things, +though you want to say them ever so, you don't quite know how to do +it."</p> + +<p>"You have your choice, Major Tifto. You can speak or hold your +tongue."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause, during which Silverbridge sat with his hands +in his pockets trying to look unconcerned. "But if you've got it +here, and feel it as I do,"—the poor man as he said this put his +hand upon his heart,—"you can't sleep in your bed till it's out. I +did that thing that they said I did."</p> + +<p>"What thing?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the nail! It was I lamed the horse."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for it. I can say nothing else."</p> + +<p>"You ain't so sorry for it as I am. Oh no; you can never be that, my +Lord. After all, what does it matter to you?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. I meant that I was sorry for your sake."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are, my Lord. For though you could be rough you was +always kind. Now I will tell you everything, and then you can do as +you please."</p> + +<p>"I wish to do nothing. As far as I am concerned the matter is over. +It made me sick of horses, and I do not wish to have to think of it +again."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, my Lord, I've got to tell it. It was Green who put me +up to it. He did it just for the plunder. As God is my judge it was +not for the money I did it."</p> + +<p>"Then it was revenge."</p> + +<p>"It was the devil got hold of me, my Lord. Up to that I had always +been square,—square as a die! I got to think that your Lordship was +upsetting. I don't know whether your Lordship remembers, but you did +put me down once or twice rather uncommon."</p> + +<p>"I hope I was not unjust."</p> + +<p>"I don't say you was, my Lord. But I got a feeling on me that you +wanted to get rid of me, and I all the time doing the best I could +for the 'orses. I did do the best I could up to that very morning at +Doncaster. Well;—it was Green put me up to it. I don't say I was to +get nothing; but it wasn't so much more than I could have got by the +'orse winning. And I've lost pretty nearly all that I did get. Do you +remember, my Lord,"—and now the Major sank his voice to a +whisper,—"when I come up to your bedroom that morning?"</p> + +<p>"I remember it."</p> + +<p>"The first time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember it."</p> + +<p>"Because I came twice, my Lord. When I came first it hadn't been +done. You turned me out."</p> + +<p>"That is true, Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>"You was very rough then. Wasn't you rough?"</p> + +<p>"A man's bedroom is generally supposed to be private."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my Lord,—that's true. I ought to have sent your man in first. +I came then to confess it all, before it was done."</p> + +<p>"Then why couldn't you let the horse alone?"</p> + +<p>"I was in their hands. And then you was so rough with me! So I said +to myself I might as well do it;—and I did it."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to say? As far as my forgiveness goes, you have +it!"</p> + +<p>"That's saying a great deal, my Lord,—a great deal," said Tifto, now +in tears. "But I ain't said it all yet. He's here; in London!"</p> + +<p>"Who's here?"</p> + +<p>"Green. He's here. He doesn't think that I know, but I could lay my +hand on him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"There is no human being alive, Major Tifto, whose presence or +absence could be a matter of more indifference to me."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'll do, my Lord. I'll go before any judge, or +magistrate, or police-officer in the country, and tell the truth. I +won't ask even for a pardon. They shall punish me and him too. I'm in +that state of mind that any change would be for the better. But +he,—he ought to have it heavy."</p> + +<p>"It won't be done by me, Major Tifto. Look here, Major Tifto; you +have come here to confess that you have done me a great injury?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have."</p> + +<p>"And you say you are sorry for it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am."</p> + +<p>"And I have forgiven you. There is only one way in which you can show +your gratitude. Hold your tongue about it. Let it be as a thing done +and gone. The money has been paid. The horse has been sold. The whole +thing has gone out of my mind, and I don't want to have it brought +back again."</p> + +<p>"And nothing is to be done to Green!"</p> + +<p>"I should say nothing,—on that score."</p> + +<p>"And he has got they say five-and-twenty thousand pounds clear +money."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity, but it cannot be helped. I will have nothing further +to do with it. Of course I cannot bind you, but I have told you my +wishes." The poor wretch was silent, but still it seemed as though he +did not wish to go quite yet. "If you have said what you have got to +say, Major Tifto, I may as well tell you that my time is engaged."</p> + +<p>"And must that be all?"</p> + +<p>"What else?"</p> + +<p>"I am in such a state of mind, Lord Silverbridge, that it would be a +satisfaction to tell it all, even against myself."</p> + +<p>"I can't prevent you."</p> + +<p>Then Tifto got up from his chair, as though he were going. "I wish I +knew what I was going to do with myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I can help you, Major Tifto."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, my Lord. I haven't twenty pounds left in all the +world. It's the only thing that wasn't square that ever I did in all +my life. Your Lordship couldn't do anything for me? We was very much +together at one time, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Major Tifto, we were."</p> + +<p>"Of course I was a villain. But it was only once; and your Lordship +was so rough to me! I am not saying but what I was a villain. Think +of what I did for myself by that one piece of wickedness! Master of +hounds! member of the club! And the horse would have run in my name +and won the Leger! And everybody knew as your Lordship and me was +together in him!" Then he burst out into a paroxysm of tears and +sobbing.</p> + +<p>The young Lord certainly could not take the man into partnership +again, nor could he restore to him either the hounds or his club,—or +his clean hands. Nor did he know in what way he could serve the man, +except by putting his hand into his pocket,—which he did. Tifto +accepted the gratuity, and ultimately became an annual pensioner on +his former noble partner, living on the allowance made him in some +obscure corner of South Wales.</p> + + +<p><a name="c76" id="c76"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVI</h3> +<h3>On Deportment<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Frank Tregear had come up to town at the end of February. He remained +in London, with an understanding that he was not to see Lady Mary +again till the Easter holidays. He was then to pay a visit to +Matching, and to enter in, it may be presumed, on the full fruition +of his advantages as accepted suitor. All this had been arranged with +a good deal of precision,—as though there had still been a hope left +that Lady Mary might change her mind. Of course there was no such +hope. When the Duke asked the young man to dine with him, when he +invited him to drink that memorable glass of wine, when the young man +was allowed, in the presence of the Boncassens, to sit next Lady +Mary, it was of course settled. But the father probably found some +relief in yielding by slow degrees. "I would rather that there should +be no correspondence till then," he had said both to Tregear and to +his daughter. And they had promised there should be no +correspondence. At Easter they would meet. After Easter Mary was to +come up to London to be present at her brother's wedding, to which +also Tregear had been formally invited; and it was hoped that then +something might be settled as to their own marriage. Tregear, with +the surgeon's permission, took his seat in Parliament. He was +introduced by two leading Members on the Conservative side, but +immediately afterwards found himself seated next to his friend +Silverbridge on the top bench behind the ministers. The House was +very full, as there was a feverish report abroad that Sir Timothy +Beeswax intended to make a statement. No one quite knew what the +statement was to be; but every politician in the House and out of it +thought that he knew that the statement would be a bid for higher +power on the part of Sir Timothy himself. If there had been +dissensions in the Cabinet, the secret of them had been well kept. To +Tregear who was not as yet familiar with the House there was no +special appearance of activity; but Silverbridge could see that there +was more than wonted animation. That the Treasury bench should be +full at this time was a thing of custom. A whole broadside of +questions would be fired off, one after another, like a rattle of +musketry down the ranks, when as nearly as possible the report of +each gun is made to follow close upon that of the gun before,—with +this exception, that in such case each little sound is intended to be +as like as possible to the preceding; whereas with the rattle of the +questions and answers, each question and each answer becomes a little +more authoritative and less courteous than the last. The Treasury +bench was ready for its usual responsive firing, as the questioners +were of course in their places. The opposition front bench was also +crowded, and those behind were nearly equally full. There were many +Peers in the gallery, and a general feeling of sensation prevailed. +All this Silverbridge had been long enough in the House to +appreciate;—but to Tregear the House was simply the House.</p> + +<p>"It's odd enough we should have a row the very first day you come," +said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"You think there will be a row?"</p> + +<p>"Beeswax has something special to say. He's not here yet, you see. +They've left about six inches for him there between Roper and Sir +Orlando. You'll have the privilege of looking just down on the top of +his head when he does come. I shan't stay much longer after that."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to-day. But I should not have been here now,—in this +very place I mean,—but I want to stick to you just at first. I shall +move down below the gangway; and not improbably creep over to the +other side before long."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean it?"</p> + +<p>"I think I shall. I begin to feel I've made a mistake."</p> + +<p>"In coming to this side at all?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have. After all it is not very important."</p> + +<p>"What is not important? I think it very important."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it may be to you, and perhaps you may be able to keep it up. +But the more I think of it the less excuse I seem to have for +deserting the old ways of the family. What is there in those fellows +down there to make a fellow feel that he ought to bind himself to +them neck and heels?"</p> + +<p>"Their principles."</p> + +<p>"Yes, their principles! I believe I have some vague idea as to +supporting property and land and all that kind of thing. I don't know +that anybody wants to attack anything."</p> + +<p>"Somebody soon would want to attack it if there were no defenders."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there is an outside power,—the people, or public opinion, +or whatever they choose to call it. And the country will have to go +very much as that outside power chooses. Here, in Parliament, +everybody will be as Conservative as the outside will let them. I +don't think it matters on which side you sit;—but it does matter +that you shouldn't have to act with those who go against the grain +with you."</p> + +<p>"I never heard a worse political argument in my life."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not. However, here's Sir Timothy. When he looks in that +way, all buckram, deportment, and solemnity, I know he's going to +pitch into somebody."</p> + +<p>At this moment the Leader of the House came in from behind the +Speaker's chair and took his place between Mr. Roper and Sir Orlando +Drought. Silverbridge had been right in saying that Sir Timothy's air +was solemn. When a man has to declare a solemn purpose on a solemn +occasion in a solemn place, it is needful that he should be solemn +himself. And though the solemnity which befits a man best will be +that which the importance of the moment may produce, without thought +given by himself to his own outward person, still, who is there can +refrain himself from some attempt? Who can boast, who that has been +versed in the ways and duties of high places, that he has kept +himself free from all study of grace, of feature, of attitude, of +gait—or even of dress? For most of our bishops, for most of our +judges, of our statesmen, our orators, our generals, for many even of +our doctors and our parsons, even our attorneys, our tax-gatherers, +and certainly our butlers and our coachmen, Mr. Turveydrop, the great +professor of deportment, has done much. But there should always be +the art to underlie and protect the art;—the art that can hide the +art. The really clever archbishop,—the really potent chief justice, +the man who, as a politician, will succeed in becoming a king of men, +should know how to carry his buckram without showing it. It was in +this that Sir Timothy perhaps failed a little. There are men who look +as though they were born to wear blue ribbons. It has come, probably, +from study, but it seems to be natural. Sir Timothy did not impose on +those who looked at him as do these men. You could see a little of +the paint, you could hear the crumple of the starch and the padding; +you could trace something of uneasiness in the would-be composed +grandeur of the brow. "Turveydrop!" the spectator would say to +himself. But after all it may be a question whether a man be open to +reproach for not doing that well which the greatest among us,—if we +could find one great enough,—would not do at all.</p> + +<p>For I think we must hold that true personal dignity should be +achieved,—must, if it be quite true, have been achieved,—without +any personal effort. Though it be evinced, in part, by the carriage +of the body, that carriage should be the fruit of the operation of +the mind. Even when it be assisted by external garniture such as +special clothes, and wigs, and ornaments, such garniture should have +been prescribed by the sovereign or by custom, and should not have +been selected by the wearer. In regard to speech a man may study all +that which may make him suasive, but if he go beyond that he will +trench on those histrionic efforts which he will know to be wrong +because he will be ashamed to acknowledge them. It is good to be +beautiful, but it should come of God and not of the hairdresser. And +personal dignity is a great possession; but a man should struggle for +it no more than he would for beauty. Many, however, do struggle for +it, and with such success that, though they do not achieve quite the +real thing, still they get something on which they can bolster +themselves up and be mighty.</p> + +<p>Others, older men than Silverbridge, saw as much as did our young +friend, but they were more complaisant and more reasonable. They, +too, heard the crackle of the buckram, and were aware that the last +touch of awe had come upon that brow just as its owner was emerging +from the shadow of the Speaker's chair;—but to them it was a thing +of course. A real Cæsar is not to be found every day, nor can we +always have a Pitt to control our debates. That kind of thing, that +last touch has its effect. Of course it is all paint,—but how would +the poor girl look before the gaslights if there were no paint? The +House of Commons likes a little deportment on occasions. If a special +man looks bigger than you, you can console yourself by reflecting +that he also looks bigger than your fellows. Sir Timothy probably +knew what he was about, and did himself on the whole more good than +harm by his little tricks.</p> + +<p>As soon as Sir Timothy had taken his seat, Mr. Rattler got up from +the opposition bench to ask him some question on a matter of finance. +The brewers were anxious about publican licences. Could the +Chancellor of the Exchequer say a word on the matter? Notice had of +course been given, and the questioner had stated a quarter of an hour +previously that he would postpone his query till the Chancellor of +the Exchequer was in the House.</p> + +<p>Sir Timothy rose from his seat, and in his blandest manner began by +apologising for his late appearance. He was sorry that he had been +prevented by public business from being in his place to answer the +honourable gentleman's question in its proper turn. And even now, he +feared that he must decline to give any answer which could be +supposed to be satisfactory. It would probably be his duty to make a +statement to the House on the following day,—a statement which he +was not quite prepared to make at the present moment. But in the +existing state of things he was unwilling to make any reply to any +question by which he might seem to bind the government to any +opinion. Then he sat down. And rising again not long afterwards, when +the House had gone through certain formal duties, he moved that it +should be adjourned till the next day. Then all the members trooped +out, and with the others Tregear and Lord Silverbridge. "So that is +the end of your first day of Parliament," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?"</p> + +<p>"Let us go to the Carlton and hear what the fellows are saying."</p> + +<p>On that evening both the young men dined at Mr. Boncassen's house. +Though Tregear had been cautioned not to write to Lady Mary, and +though he was not to see her before Easter, still it was so +completely understood that he was about to become her husband, that +he was entertained in that capacity by all those who were concerned +in the family. "And so they will all go out," said Mr. Boncassen.</p> + +<p>"That seems to be the general idea," said the expectant son-in-law. +"When two men want to be first and neither will give way, they can't +very well get on in the same boat together." Then he expatiated +angrily on the treachery of Sir Timothy, and Tregear in a more +moderate way joined in the same opinion.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, young men, I doubt whether you are right," said Mr. +Boncassen. "Whether it can be possible that a man should have risen +to such a position with so little patriotism as you attribute to our +friend, I will not pretend to say. I should think that in England it +was impossible. But of this I am sure, that the facility which exists +here for a minister or ministers to go out of office without +disturbance of the Crown, is a great blessing. You say the other +party will come in."</p> + +<p>"That is most probable," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"With us the other party never comes in,—never has a chance of +coming in,—except once in four years, when the President is elected. +That one event binds us all for four years."</p> + +<p>"But you do change your ministers," said Tregear.</p> + +<p>"A secretary may quarrel with the President, or he may have the gout, +or be convicted of peculation."</p> + +<p>"And yet you think yourselves more nearly free than we are."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure of that. We have had a pretty difficult task, that +of carrying on a government in a new country, which is nevertheless +more populous than almost any old country. The influxions are so +rapid, that every ten years the nature of the people is changed. It +isn't easy; and though I think on the whole we've done pretty well, I +am not going to boast that Washington is as yet the seat of a +political Paradise."</p> + + +<p><a name="c77" id="c77"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVII</h3> +<h3>"Mabel, Good-Bye"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Tregear first came to town with his arm in a sling, and bandages +all round him,—in order that he might be formally accepted by the +Duke,—he had himself taken to one other house besides the house in +Carlton Terrace. He went to Belgrave Square, to announce his fate to +Lady Mabel Grex;—but Lady Mabel Grex was not there. The Earl was ill +at Brighton, and Lady Mabel had gone down to nurse him. The old woman +who came to him in the hall told him that the Earl was very ill;—he +had been attacked by the gout, but in spite of the gout, and in spite +of the doctors, he had insisted on being taken to his club. Then he +had been removed to Brighton, under the doctor's advice, chiefly in +order that he might be kept out of the way of temptation. Now he was +supposed to be very ill indeed. "My Lord is so imprudent!" said the +old woman, shaking her old head in real unhappiness. For though the +Earl had been a tyrant to everyone near him, yet when a poor woman +becomes old it is something to have a tyrant to protect her. "My +Lord" always had been imprudent. Tregear knew that it had been the +theory of my Lord's life that to eat and drink and die was better +than to abstain and live. Then Tregear wrote to his friend as +follows:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mabel</span>,</p> + +<p>I am up in town again as you will perceive, although I am +still in a helpless condition and hardly able to write +even this letter. I called to-day and was very sorry to +hear so bad an account of your father. Had I been able to +travel I should have come down to you. When I am able I +will do so if you would wish to see me. In the meantime +pray tell me how he is, and how you are.</p> + +<p>My news is this. The Duke has accepted me. It is great +news to me, and I hope will be acceptable to you. I do +believe that if ever a friend has been anxious for a +friend's welfare you have been anxious for mine,—as I +have been and ever shall be for yours.</p> + +<p>Of course this thing will be very much to me. I will not +speak now of my love for the girl who is to become my +wife. You might again call me Romeo. Nor do I like to say +much of what may now be pecuniary prospects. I did not ask +Mary to become my wife because I supposed she would be +rich. But I could not have married her or any one else who +had not money. What are the Duke's intentions I have not +the slightest idea, nor shall I ask him. I am to go down +to Matching at Easter, and shall endeavour to have some +time fixed. I suppose the Duke will say something about +money. If he does not, I shall not.</p> + +<p>Pray write to me at once, and tell me when I shall see +you.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate Cousin,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">F. O. +Tregear</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>In answer to this there came a note in a very few words. She +congratulated him,—not very warmly,—but expressed a hope that she +might see him soon. But she told him not to come to Brighton. The +Earl was better but very cross, and she would be up in town before +long.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the month it became suddenly known in London that +Lord Grex had died at Brighton. There was a Garter to be given away, +and everybody was filled with regret that such an ornament to the +Peerage should have departed from them. The Conservative papers +remembered how excellent a politician he had been in his younger +days, and the world was informed that the family of Grex of Grex was +about the oldest in Great Britain of which authentic records were in +existence. Then there came another note from Lady Mabel to Tregear. +"I shall be in town on the 31st in the old house, with Miss +Cassewary, and will see you if you can come on the 1st. Come early, +at eleven, if you can."</p> + +<p>On the day named and at the hour fixed he was in Belgrave Square. He +had known this house since he was a boy, and could well remember how, +when he first entered it, he had thought with some awe of the +grandeur of the Earl. The Earl had then not paid much attention to +him, but he had become very much taken by the grace and good-nature +of the girl who had owned him as a cousin. "You are my cousin Frank," +she had said; "I am so glad to have a cousin." He could remember the +words now as though they had been spoken only yesterday. Then there +had quickly grown to be friendship between him and this, as he +thought, sweetest of all girls. At that time he had just gone to +Eton; but before he left Eton they had sworn to love each other. And +so it had been and the thing had grown, till at last, just when he +had taken his degree, two matters had been settled between them; the +first was that each loved the other irretrievably, irrevocably, +passionately; the second, that it was altogether out of the question +that they should ever marry each other.</p> + +<p>It is but fair to Tregear to say that this last decision originated +with the lady. He had told her that he certainly would hold himself +engaged to marry her at some future time; but she had thrown this +aside at once. How was it possible, she said, that two such beings, +brought up in luxury, and taught to enjoy all the good things of the +world, should expect to live and be happy together without an income? +He offered to go to the bar;—but she asked him whether he thought it +well that such a one as she should wait say a dozen years for such a +process. "When the time comes, I should be an old woman and you would +be a wretched man." She released him,—declared her own purpose of +marrying well; and then, though there had been a moment in which her +own assurance of her own love had been passionate enough, she went so +far as to tell him that she was heart-whole. "We have been two +foolish children but we cannot be children any longer," she said. +"There must be an end of it."</p> + +<p>What had hitherto been the result of this the reader knows,—and +Tregear knew also. He had taken the privilege given to him, and had +made so complete a use of it that he had in truth transferred his +heart as well as his allegiance. Where is the young man who cannot do +so;—how few are there who do not do so when their first fit of +passion has come on them at one-and-twenty? And he had thought that +she would do the same. But gradually he found that she had not done +so, did not do so, could not do so! When she first heard of Lady Mary +she had not reprimanded him,—but she could not keep herself from +showing the bitterness of her disappointment. Though she would still +boast of her own strength and of her own purpose, yet it was too +clear to him that she was wounded and very sore. She would have liked +him to remain single at any rate till she herself were married. But +the permission had been hardly given before he availed himself of it. +And then he talked to her not only of the brilliancy of his +prospects,—which she could have forgiven,—but of his love—his +love!</p> + +<p>Then she had refused one offer after another, and he had known it +all. There was nothing in which she was concerned that she did not +tell him. Then young Silverbridge had come across her, and she had +determined that he should be her husband. She had been nearly +successful,—so nearly that at moments she had felt sure of success. +But the prize had slipped from her through her own fault. She knew +well enough that it was her own fault. When a girl submits to play +such a game as that, she should not stand on too nice scruples. She +had told herself this many a time since;—but the prize was gone.</p> + +<p>All this Tregear knew, and knowing it almost dreaded the coming +interview. He could not without actual cruelty have avoided her. Had +he done so before he could not have continued to do so now, when she +was left alone in the world. Her father had not been much to her, but +still his presence had enabled her to put herself before the world as +being somebody. Now she would be almost nobody. And she had lost her +rich prize, while he,—out of the same treasury as it were,—had won +his!</p> + +<p>The door was opened to him by the same old woman, and he was shown, +at a funereal pace, up into the drawing-room which he had known so +well. He was told that Lady Mabel would be down to him directly. As +he looked about him he could see that already had been commenced that +work of division of spoil which is sure to follow the death of most +of us. Things were already gone which used to be familiar to his +eyes, and the room, though not dismantled, had been deprived of many +of its little prettinesses and was ugly.</p> + +<p>In about ten minutes she came down to him,—with so soft a step that +he would not have been aware of her entrance had he not seen her form +in the mirror. Then, when he turned round to greet her, he was +astonished by the blackness of her appearance. She looked as though +she had become ten years older since he had last seen her. As she +came up to him she was grave and almost solemn in her gait, but there +was no sign of any tears. Why should there have been a tear? Women +weep, and men too, not from grief, but from emotion. Indeed, grave +and slow as was her step, and serious, almost solemn, as was her +gait, there was something of a smile on her mouth as she gave him her +hand. And yet her face was very sad, declaring to him too plainly +something of the hopelessness of her heart. "And so the Duke has +consented," she said. He had told her that in his letter, but, since +that, her father had died, and she had been left, he did not as yet +know how far impoverished, but, he feared, with no pleasant worldly +prospects before her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mabel;—that I suppose will be settled. I have been so shocked +to hear all this."</p> + +<p>"It has been very sad;—has it not? Sit down, Frank. You and I have a +good deal to say to each other now that we have met. It was no good +your going down to Brighton. He would not have seen you, and at last +I never left him."</p> + +<p>"Was Percival there?" She only shook her head. "That was dreadful."</p> + +<p>"It was not Percival's fault. He would not see him; nor till the last +hour or two would he believe in his own danger. Nor was he ever +frightened for a moment,—not even then."</p> + +<p>"Was he good to you?"</p> + +<p>"Good to me! Well;—he liked my being there. Poor papa! It had gone +so far with him that he could not be good to any one. I think that he +felt that it would be unmanly not to be the same to the end."</p> + +<p>"He would not see Percival."</p> + +<p>"When it was suggested he would only ask what good Percival could do +him. I did send for him at last, in my terror, but he did not see his +father alive. When he did come he only told me how badly his father +had treated him! It was very dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"I did so feel for you."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you did, and will. After all, Frank, I think that the +pious godly people have the best of it in this world. Let them be +ever so covetous, ever so false, ever so hard-hearted, the mere fact +that they must keep up appearances, makes them comfortable to those +around them. Poor papa was not comfortable to me. A little hypocrisy, +a little sacrifice to the feelings of the world, may be such a +blessing."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you should feel it so."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is sad. But you;—everything is smiling with you! Let us +talk about your plans."</p> + +<p>"Another time will do for that. I had come to hear about your own +affairs."</p> + +<p>"There they are," she said, pointing round the room. "I have no other +affairs. You see that I am going from here."</p> + +<p>"And where are you going?" She shook her head. "With whom will you +live?"</p> + +<p>"With Miss Cass,—two old maids together! I know nothing further."</p> + +<p>"But about money? That is if I am justified in asking."</p> + +<p>"What would you not be justified in asking? Do you not know that I +would tell you every secret of my heart,—if my heart had a secret? +It seems that I have given up what was to have been my fortune. There +was a claim of £12,000 on Grex. But I have abandoned it."</p> + +<p>"And there is nothing?"</p> + +<p>"There will be scrapings they tell me,—unless Percival refuses to +agree. This house is mortgaged, but not for its value. And there are +some jewels. But all that is detestable,—a mere grovelling among +mean hundreds; whereas you,—you will soar +<span class="nowrap">among—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh Mabel! do not say hard things to me."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! why should I,—I who have been preaching that +comfortable doctrine of hypocrisy? I will say nothing hard. But I +would sooner talk of your good things than of my evil ones."</p> + +<p>"I would not."</p> + +<p>"Then you must talk about them for my sake. How was it that the Duke +came round at last?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. She sent for me."</p> + +<p>"A fine high-spirited girl. These Pallisers have more courage about +them than one expects from their outward manner. Silverbridge has +plenty of it."</p> + +<p>"I remember telling you he could be obstinate."</p> + +<p>"And I remember that I did not believe you. Now I know it. He has the +sort of pluck which enables a man to break a girl's heart,—or to +destroy a girl's hopes,—without wincing. He can tell a girl to her +face that she can go to the—mischief for him. There are so many men +who can't do that, from cowardice, though their hearts be ever so +well inclined. 'I have changed my mind.' There is something great in +the courage of a man who can say that to a woman in so many words. +Most of them, when they escape, escape by lies and subterfuges. Or +they run away and won't allow themselves to be heard of. They trust +to a chapter of accidents, and leave things to arrange themselves. +But when a man can look a girl in the face with those seemingly soft +eyes, and say with that seemingly soft mouth,—'I have changed my +mind,'—though she would look him dead in return if she could, still +she must admire him."</p> + +<p>"Are you speaking of Silverbridge now?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am speaking of Silverbridge. I suppose I ought to hide +it all and not to tell you. But as you are the only person I do tell, +you must put up with me. Yes;—when I taxed him with his +falsehood,—for he had been false,—he answered me with those very +words! 'I have changed my mind.' He could not lie. To speak the truth +was a necessity to him, even at the expense of his gallantry, almost +of his humanity."</p> + +<p>"Has he been false to you, Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he has. But there is nothing to quarrel about, if you mean +that. People do not quarrel now about such things. A girl has to +fight her own battle with her own pluck and her own wits. As with +these weapons she is generally stronger than her enemy, she succeeds +sometimes although everything else is against her. I think I am +courageous, but his courage beat mine. I craned at the first fence. +When he was willing to swallow my bait, my hand was not firm enough +to strike the hook in his jaws. Had I not quailed then I think I +should have—'had him'."</p> + +<p>"It is horrid to hear you talk like this." She was leaning over from +her seat, looking, black as she was, so much older than her wont, +with something about her of that unworldly serious thoughtfulness +which a mourning garb always gives. And yet her words were so +worldly, so unfeminine!</p> + +<p>"I have got to tell the truth to somebody. It was so, just as I have +said. Of course I did not love him. How could I love him after what +has passed? But there need have been nothing much in that. I don't +suppose that Dukes' eldest sons often get married for love."</p> + +<p>"Miss Boncassen loves him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say the beggar's daughter loved King Cophetua. When you come +to distances such as that, there can be love. The very fact that a +man should have descended so far in quest of beauty,—the flattery of +it alone,—will produce love. When the angels came after the +daughters of men of course the daughters of men loved them. The +distance between him and me is not great enough to have produced that +sort of worship. There was no reason why Lady Mabel Grex should not +be good enough wife for the son of the Duke of Omnium."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"And therefore I was not struck, as by the shining of a light from +heaven. I cannot say I loved him. Frank,—I am beyond worshipping +even an angel from heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Then I do not know that you could blame him," he said very +seriously.</p> + +<p>"Just so;—and as I have chosen to be honest I have told him +everything. But I had my revenge first."</p> + +<p>"I would have said nothing."</p> + +<p>"You would have recommended—delicacy! No doubt you think that women +should be delicate, let them suffer what they may. A woman should not +let it be known that she has any human nature in her. I had him on +the hip, and for a moment I used my power. He had certainly done me a +wrong. He had asked for my love,—and with the delicacy which you +commend, I had not at once grasped at all that such a request +conveyed. Then, as he told me so frankly, 'he changed his mind!' Did +he not wrong me?"</p> + +<p>"He should not have raised false hopes."</p> + +<p>"He told me that—he had changed his mind. I think I loved him then +as nearly as ever I did,—because he looked me full in the face. +Then,—I told him I had never cared for him, and that he need have +nothing on his conscience. But I doubt whether he was glad to hear +it. Men are so vain! I have talked too much of myself. And so you are +to be the Duke's son-in-law. And she will have hundreds of +thousands."</p> + +<p>"Thousands perhaps, but I do not think very much about it. I feel +that he will provide for her."</p> + +<p>"And that you, having secured her, can creep under his wing like an +additional ducal chick. It is very comfortable. The Duke will be +quite a Providence to you. I wonder that all young gentlemen do not +marry heiresses;—it is so easy. And you have got your seat in +Parliament too! Oh, your luck! When I look back upon it all it seems +so hard to me! It was for you,—for you that I used to be anxious. +Now it is I who have not an inch of ground to stand upon." Then he +approached her and put out his hand to her. "No," she said, putting +both her hands behind her back, "for God's sake let there be no +tenderness. But is it not cruel? Think of my advantages at that +moment when you and I agreed that our paths should be separate. My +fortune then had not been made quite shipwreck by my father and +brother. I had before me all that society could offer. I was called +handsome and clever. Where was there a girl more likely to make her +way to the top?"</p> + +<p>"You may do so still."</p> + +<p>"No;—no;—I cannot. And you at least should not tell me so. I did +not know then the virulence of the malady which had fallen on me. I +did not know then that, because of you, other men would be abhorrent +to me. I thought that I was as easy-hearted as you have proved +yourself."</p> + +<p>"How cruel you can be."</p> + +<p>"Have I done anything to interfere with you? Have I said a word even +to that young lad, when I might have said a word? Yes; to him I did +say something; but I waited, and would not say it, while a word could +hurt you. Shall I tell you what I told him? Just everything that has +ever happened between you and me."</p> + +<p>"You did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—because I saw that I could trust him. I told him because I +wanted him to be quite sure that I had never loved him. But, Frank, I +have put no spoke in your wheel. There has not been a moment since +you told me of your love for this rich young lady in which I would +not have helped you had help been in my power. Whomever I may have +harmed, I have never harmed you."</p> + +<p>"Am I not as clear from blame towards you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Frank. You have done me the terrible evil of ceasing to love +me."</p> + +<p>"It was at your own bidding."</p> + +<p>"Certainly! but if I were to bid you to cut my throat, would you do +it?"</p> + +<p>"Was it not you who decided that we could not wait for each other?"</p> + +<p>"And should it not have been for you to decide that you would wait?"</p> + +<p>"You also would have married."</p> + +<p>"It almost angers me that you should not see the difference. A girl +unless she marries becomes nothing, as I have become nothing now. A +man does not want a pillar on which to lean. A man, when he has done +as you had done with me, and made a girl's heart all his own, even +though his own heart had been flexible and plastic as yours is, +should have been true to her, at least for a while. Did it never +occur to you that you owed something to me?"</p> + +<p>"I have always owed you very much."</p> + +<p>"There should have been some touch of chivalry if not of love to make +you feel that a second passion should have been postponed for a year +or two. You could wait without growing old. You might have allowed +yourself a little space to dwell—I was going to say on the sweetness +of your memories. But they were not sweet, Frank; they were not sweet +to you."</p> + +<p>"These rebukes, Mabel, will rob them of their sweetness,—for a +time."</p> + +<p>"It is gone; all gone," she said, shaking her head,—"gone from me +because I have been so easily deserted; gone from you because the +change has been so easy to you. How long was it, Frank, after you had +left me before you were basking happily in the smiles of Lady Mary +Palliser?"</p> + +<p>"It was not very long, as months go."</p> + +<p>"Say days, Frank."</p> + +<p>"I have to defend myself, and I will do so with truth. It was not +very long,—as months go; but why should it have been less long, +whether for months or days? I had to cure myself of a wound."</p> + +<p>"To put a plaster on a scratch, Frank."</p> + +<p>"And the sooner a man can do that the more manly he is. Is it a sign +of strength to wail under a sorrow that cannot be cured,—or of truth +to perpetuate the appearance of a woe?"</p> + +<p>"Has it been an appearance with me?"</p> + +<p>"I am speaking of myself now. I am driven to speak of myself by the +bitterness of your words. It was you who decided."</p> + +<p>"You accepted my decision easily."</p> + +<p>"Because it was based not only on my unfitness for such a marriage, +but on yours. When I saw that there would be perhaps some years of +misery for you, of course I accepted your decision. The sweetness had +been very sweet to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh Frank, was it ever sweet to you?"</p> + +<p>"And the triumph of it had been very great. I had been assured of the +love of her who among all the high ones of the world seemed to me to +be the highest. Then came your decision. Do you really believe that I +could abandon the sweetness, that I could be robbed of my triumph, +that I could think I could never again be allowed to put my arm round +your waist, never again to feel your cheek close to mine, that I +should lose all that had seemed left to me among the gods, without +feeling it?"</p> + +<p>"Frank, Frank!" she said, rising to her feet, and stretching out her +hands as though she were going to give him back all these joys.</p> + +<p>"Of course I felt it. I did not then know what was before me." When +he said this she sank back immediately upon her seat. "I was wretched +enough. I had lost a limb and could not walk; my eyes, and must +always hereafter be blind; my fitness to be among men, and must +always hereafter be secluded. It is so that a man is stricken down +when some terrible trouble comes upon him. But it is given to him to +retrick his beams."</p> + +<p>"You have retricked yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and the strong man will show his strength by doing it quickly. +Mabel, I sorrowed for myself greatly when that word was spoken, +partly because I thought that your love could so easily be taken from +me. And, since I have found that it has not been so, I have sorrowed +for you also. But I do not blame myself, and—and I will not submit +to have blame even from you." She stared him in the face as he said +this. "A man should never submit to blame."</p> + +<p>"But if he has deserved it?"</p> + +<p>"Who is to be the judge? But why should we contest this? You do not +really wish to trample on me!"</p> + +<p>"No;—not that."</p> + +<p>"Nor to disgrace me; nor to make me feel myself disgraced in my own +judgment?" Then there was a pause for some moments as though he had +left her without another word to say. "Shall I go now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh Frank!"</p> + +<p>"I fear that my presence only makes you unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Then what will your absence do? When shall I see you again? But, no; +I will not see you again. Not for many days,—not for years. Why +should I? Frank, is it wicked that I should love you?" He could only +shake his head in answer to this. "If it be so wicked that I must be +punished for it eternally, still I love you. I can never, never, +never love another. You cannot understand it. Oh God,—that I had +never understood it myself! I think, I think, that I would go with +you now anywhere, facing all misery, all judgments, all disgrace. You +know, do you not, that if it were possible, I should not say so. But +as I know that you would not stir a step with me, I do say so."</p> + +<p>"I know it is not meant."</p> + +<p>"It is meant, though it could not be done. Frank, I must not see her, +not for awhile; not for years. I do not wish to hate her, but how can +I help it? Do you remember when she flew into your arms in this +room?"</p> + +<p>"I remember it."</p> + +<p>"Of course you do. It is your great joy now to remember that, and +such like. She must be very good! Though I hate her!"</p> + +<p>"Do not say that you hate her, Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Though I hate her she must be good. It was a fine and a brave thing +to do. I have done it; but never before the world like that; have I, +Frank? Oh, Frank, I shall never do it again. Go now, and do not touch +me. Let us both pray that in ten years we may meet as passionless +friends." He came to her hardly knowing what he meant, but purposing, +as though by instinct, to take her hand as he parted from her. But +she, putting both her hands before her face, and throwing herself on +to the sofa, buried her head among the cushions.</p> + +<p>"Is there not to be another word?" he said. Lying as she did, she +still was able to make a movement of dissent, and he left her, +muttering just one word between his teeth, "Mabel, good-bye."</p> + + +<p><a name="c78" id="c78"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVIII</h3> +<h3>The Duke Returns to Office<br /> </h3> + + +<p>That farewell took place on the Friday morning. Tregear as he walked +out of the Square knew now that he had been the cause of a great +shipwreck. At first when that passionate love had been declared,—he +could hardly remember whether with the fullest passion by him or by +her,—he had been as a god walking upon air. That she who seemed to +be so much above him should have owned that she was all his own +seemed then to be world enough for him. For a few weeks he lived a +hero to himself, and was able to tell himself that for him the glory +of a passion was sufficient. In those halcyon moments no common human +care is allowed to intrude itself. To one who has thus entered in +upon the heroism of romance his own daily work, his dinners, clothes, +income, father and mother, sisters and brothers, his own street and +house are nothing. Hunting, shooting, rowing, Alpine-climbing, even +speeches in Parliament,—if they perchance have been attained +to,—all become leather or prunella. The heavens have been opened to +him, and he walks among them like a god. So it had been with Tregear. +Then had come the second phase of his passion,—which is also not +uncommon to young men who soar high in their first assaults. He was +told that it would not do; and was not so told by a hard-hearted +parent, but by the young lady herself. And she had spoken so +reasonably, that he had yielded, and had walked away with that sudden +feeling of a vile return to his own mean belongings, to his lodgings, +and his income, which not a few ambitious young men have experienced. +But she had convinced him. Then had come the journey to Italy, and +the reader knows all the rest. He certainly had not derogated in +transferring his affections,—but it may be doubted whether in his +second love he had walked among the stars as in the first. A man can +hardly mount twice among the stars. But he had been as eager,—and as +true. And he had succeeded, without any flaw on his conscience. It +had been agreed, when that first disruption took place, that he and +Mabel should be friends; and, as to a friend, he had told her of his +hopes. When first she had mingled something of sarcasm with her +congratulations, though it had annoyed him, it had hardly made him +unhappy. When she called him Romeo and spoke of herself as Rosaline, +he took her remark as indicating some petulance rather than an +enduring love. That had been womanly and he could forgive it. He had +his other great and solid happiness to support him. Then he had +believed that she would soon marry, if not Silverbridge, then some +other fitting young nobleman, and that all would be well. But now +things were very far from well. The storm which was now howling round +her afflicted him much.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the bitterest feeling of all was that her love should have +been so much stronger, so much more enduring than his own. He could +not but remember how in his first agony he had blamed her because she +had declared that they should be severed. He had then told himself +that such severing would be to him impossible, and that had her +nature been as high as his, it would have been as impossible to her. +Which nature must he now regard as the higher? She had done her best +to rid herself of the load of her passion and had failed. But he had +freed himself with convenient haste. All that he had said as to the +manliness of conquering grief had been wise enough. But still he +could not quit himself of some feeling of disgrace in that he had +changed and she had not. He tried to comfort himself with reflecting +that Mary was all his own,—that in that matter he had been +victorious and happy;—but for an hour or two he thought more of +Mabel than of Mary.</p> + +<p>When the time came in which he could employ himself he called for +Silverbridge, and they walked together across the park to +Westminster. Silverbridge was gay and full of eagerness as to the +coming ministerial statement, but Tregear could not turn his mind +from the work of the morning. "I don't seem to care very much about +it," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"I do care very much," said Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>"What difference will it make?"</p> + +<p>"I breakfasted with the governor this morning, and I have not seen +him in such good spirits since—, well, for a long time." The date to +which Silverbridge would have referred, had he not checked himself, +was that of the evening on which it had been agreed between him and +his father that Mabel Grex should be promoted to the seat of highest +honour in the house of Palliser,—but that was a matter which must +henceforward be buried in silence. "He did not say as much, but I +feel perfectly sure that he and Mr. Monk have arranged a new +government."</p> + +<p>"I don't see any matter for joy in that to Conservatives like you and +me."</p> + +<p>"He is my father,—and as he is going to be your father-in-law I +should have thought that you might have been pleased."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—if he likes it. But I have heard so often of the crushing +cares of office, and I had thought that of all living men he had been +the most crushed by them."</p> + +<p>All that had to be done in the House of Commons on that afternoon was +finished before five o'clock. By half-past five the House, and all +the purlieus of the House, were deserted. And yet at four, +immediately after prayers, there had been such a crowd that members +had been unable to find seats! Tregear and Silverbridge having been +early had succeeded, but those who had been less careful were obliged +to listen as best they could in the galleries. The stretching out of +necks and the holding of hands behind the ears did not last long. Sir +Timothy had not had much to say, but what he did say was spoken with +a dignity which seemed to anticipate future exaltation rather than +present downfall. There had arisen a question in regard to +revenue,—he need hardly tell them that it was that question in +reference to brewers' licences to which the honourable gentleman +opposite had alluded on the previous day,—as to which unfortunately +he was not in accord with his noble friend the Prime Minister. Under +the circumstances it was hardly possible that they should at once +proceed to business, and he therefore moved that the House should +stand adjourned till Tuesday next. That was the whole statement.</p> + +<p>Not very long afterwards the Prime Minister made another statement in +the House of Lords. As the Chancellor of the Exchequer had very +suddenly resigned and had thereby broken up the Ministry, he had +found himself compelled to place his resignation in the hands of her +Majesty. Then that House was also adjourned. On that afternoon all +the clubs were alive with admiration at the great cleverness +displayed by Sir Timothy in this transaction. It was not only that he +had succeeded in breaking up the Ministry, and that he had done this +without incurring violent disgrace; but he had so done it as to throw +all the reproach upon his late unfortunate colleague. It was thus +that Mr. Lupton explained it. Sir Timothy had been at the pains to +ascertain on what matters connected with the Revenue, Lord +Drummond,—or Lord Drummond's closest advisers,—had opinions of +their own, opinions strong enough not to be abandoned; and having +discovered that, he also discovered arguments on which to found an +exactly contrary opinion. But as the Revenue had been entrusted +specially to his unworthy hands, he was entitled to his own opinion +on this matter. "The majority of the House," said Mr. Lupton, "and +the entire public, will no doubt give him credit for great +self-abnegation."</p> + +<p>All this happened on the Friday. During the Saturday it was +considered probable that the Cabinet would come to terms with itself, +and that internal wounds would be healed. The general opinion was +that Lord Drummond would give way. But on the Sunday morning it was +understood that Lord Drummond would not yield. It was reported that +Lord Drummond was willing to purchase his separation from Sir Timothy +even at the expense of his office. That Sir Timothy should give way +seemed to be impossible. Had he done so it would have been impossible +for him to recover the respect of the House. Then it was rumoured +that two or three others had gone with Sir Timothy. And on Monday +morning it was proclaimed that the Prime Minister was not in a +condition to withdraw his resignation. On the Tuesday the House met +and Mr. Monk announced, still from the Opposition benches, that he +had that morning been with the Queen. Then there was another +adjournment, and all the Liberals knew that the gates of Paradise +were again about to be opened to them.</p> + +<p>This is only interesting to us as affecting the happiness and +character of our Duke. He had consented to assist Mr. Monk in forming +a government, and to take office under Mr. Monk's leadership. He had +had many contests with himself before he could bring himself to this +submission. He knew that if anything could once again make him +contented it would be work; he knew that if he could serve his +country it was his duty to serve it; and he knew also that it was +only by the adhesion of such men as himself that the traditions of +his party could be maintained. But he had been Prime Minister,—and +he was sure he could never be Prime Minister again. There are in all +matters certain little, almost hidden, signs, by which we can measure +within our own bosoms the extent of our successes and our failures. +Our Duke's friends had told him that his Ministry had been +serviceable to the country; but no one had ever suggested to him that +he would again be asked to fill the place which he had filled. He had +stopped a gap. He would beforehand have declared himself willing to +serve his country even in this way; but having done so,—having done +that and no more than that,—he felt that he had failed. He had in +his soreness declared to himself that he would never more take +office. He had much to do to overcome this promise to himself;—but +when he had brought himself to submit, he was certainly a happier +man.</p> + +<p>There was no going to see the Queen. That on the present occasion was +done simply by Mr. Monk. But on the Wednesday morning his name +appeared in the list of the new Cabinet as President of the Council. +He was perhaps a little fidgety, a little too anxious to employ +himself and to be employed, a little too desirous of immediate +work;—but still he was happy and gracious to those around him. "I +suppose you like that particular office," Silverbridge said to him.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes;—not best of all, you know," and he smiled as he made +this admission.</p> + +<p>"You mean Prime Minister?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed I don't. I am inclined to think that the Premier should +always sit in your House. No, Silverbridge. If I could have my +way,—which is of course impossible, for I cannot put off my +honours,—I would return to my old place. I would return to the +Exchequer where the work is hard and certain, where a man can do, or +at any rate attempt to do, some special thing. A man there if he +sticks to that and does not travel beyond it, need not be popular, +need not be a partisan, need not be eloquent, need not be a courtier. +He should understand his profession, as should a lawyer or a doctor. +If he does that thoroughly he can serve his country without recourse +to that parliamentary strategy for which I know that I am unfit."</p> + +<p>"You can't do that in the House of Lords, sir."</p> + +<p>"No; no. I wish the title could have passed over my head, +Silverbridge, and gone to you at once. I think we both should have +been suited better. But there are things which one should not +consider. Even in this place I may perhaps do something. Shall you +attack us very bitterly?"</p> + +<p>"I am the only man who does not mean to make any change."</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"I shall stay where I am,—on the Government side of the House."</p> + +<p>"Are you clear about that, my boy?"</p> + +<p>"Quite clear."</p> + +<p>"Such changes should not be made without very much consideration."</p> + +<p>"I have already written to them at Silverbridge and have had three or +four answers. Mr. De Boung says that the borough is more than +grateful. Mr. Sprout regrets it much, and suggests a few months' +consideration. Mr. Sprugeon seems to think it does not signify."</p> + +<p>"That is hardly complimentary."</p> + +<p>"No,—not to me. But he is very civil to the family. As long as a +Palliser represents the borough, Mr. Sprugeon thinks that it does not +matter much on which side he may sit. I have had my little vagary, +and I don't think that I shall change again."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is your republican bride-elect that has done that," +said the Duke, laughing.</p> + + +<p><a name="c79" id="c79"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIX</h3> +<h3>The First Wedding<br /> </h3> + + +<p>As Easter Sunday fell on the 17th April, and as the arrangement of +the new Cabinet, with its inferior offices, was not completed till +the 6th of that month, there was only just time for the new elections +before the holidays. Mr. Monk sat on his bench so comfortably that he +hardly seemed ever to have been off it. And Phineas Finn resumed the +peculiar ministerial tone of voice just as though he had never +allowed himself to use the free and indignant strains of opposition. +As to a majority,—nothing as yet was known about that. Some few +besides Silverbridge might probably transfer themselves to the +Government. None of the ministers lost their seats at the new +elections. The opposite party seemed for a while to have been +paralysed by the defection of Sir Timothy, and men who liked a quiet +life were able to comfort themselves with the reflection that nothing +could be done this Session.</p> + +<p>For our lovers this was convenient. Neither of them would have +allowed their parliamentary energies to have interfered at such a +crisis with his domestic affairs; but still it was well to have time +at command. The day for the marriage of Isabel and Silverbridge had +been now fixed. That was to take place on the Wednesday after Easter, +and was to be celebrated by special royal favour in the chapel at +Whitehall. All the Pallisers would be there, and all the relations of +all the Pallisers, all the ambassadors, and of course all the +Americans in London. It would be a "wretched grind," as Silverbridge +said, but it had to be done. In the meantime the whole party, +including the new President of the Council, were down at Matching. +Even Isabel, though it must be presumed that she had much to do in +looking after her bridal garments, was able to be there for a day or +two. But Tregear was the person to whom this visit was of the +greatest importance.</p> + +<p>He had been allowed to see Lady Mary in London, but hardly to do more +than see her. With her he had been alone for about five minutes, and +then cruel circumstances,—circumstances, however, which were not +permanently cruel,—had separated them. All their great difficulties +had been settled, and no doubt they were happy. Tregear, though he +had been as it were received into grace by that glass of wine, still +had not entered into the intimacies of the house. This he felt +himself. He had been told that he had better restrain himself from +writing to Mary, and he had restrained himself. He had therefore no +immediate opportunity of creeping into that perfect intimacy with the +house and household which is generally accorded to a promised +son-in-law.</p> + +<p>On this occasion he travelled down alone, and as he approached the +house he, who was not by nature timid, felt himself to be somewhat +cowed. That the Duke should not be cold to him was almost impossible. +Of course he was there in opposition to the Duke's wishes. Even +Silverbridge had never quite liked the match. Of course he was to +have all that he desired. Of course he was the most fortunate of men. +Of course no man had ever stronger reason to be contented with the +girl he loved. But still his heart was a little low as he was driven +up to the door.</p> + +<p>The first person whom he saw was the Duke himself, who, as the fly +from the station arrived, was returning from his walk. "You are +welcome to Matching," he said, taking off his hat with something of +ceremony. This was said before the servants, but Tregear was then led +into the study and the door was closed. "I never do anything by +halves, Mr. Tregear," he said. "Since it is to be so you shall be the +same to me as though you had come under other auspices. Of yourself +personally I hear all that is good. Consider yourself at home here, +and in all things use me as your friend." Tregear endeavoured to make +some reply, but could not find words that were fitting. "I think that +the young people are out," continued the Duke. "Mr. Warburton will +help you to find them if you like to go upon the search." The words +had been very gracious, but still there was something in the manner +of the man which made Tregear find it almost impossible to regard him +as he might have regarded another father-in-law. He had often heard +the Duke spoken of as a man who could become awful if he pleased, +almost without an effort. He had been told of the man's mingled +simplicity, courtesy, and self-assertion against which no impudence +or raillery could prevail. And now he seemed to understand it.</p> + +<p>He was not driven to go under the private secretary's escort in quest +of the young people. Mary had understood her business much better +than that. "If you please, sir, Lady Mary is in the little +drawing-room," said a well-arrayed young girl to him as soon as the +Duke's door was closed. This was Lady Mary's own maid who had been on +the look-out for the fly. Lady Mary had known all details, as to the +arrival of the trains and the length of the journey from the station, +and had not been walking with the other young people when the Duke +had intercepted her lover. Even that delay she had thought was hard. +The discreet maid opened the door of the little drawing-room,—and +discreetly closed it instantly. "At last!" she said, throwing herself +into his arms.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—at last."</p> + +<p>On this occasion time did not envy them. The long afternoons of +spring had come, and as Tregear had reached the house between four +and five they were able to go out together before the sun set. "No," +she said when he came to inquire as to her life during the last +twelve months; "you had not much to be afraid of as to my +forgetting."</p> + +<p>"But when everything was against me?"</p> + +<p>"One thing was not against you. You ought to have been sure of that."</p> + +<p>"And so I was. And yet I felt that I ought not to have been sure. +Sometimes, in my solitude, I used to think that I myself had been +wrong. I began to doubt whether under any circumstances I could have +been justified in asking your father's daughter to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"Because of his rank?"</p> + +<p>"Not so much his rank as his money."</p> + +<p>"Ought that to be considered?"</p> + +<p>"A poor man who marries a rich woman will always be suspected."</p> + +<p>"Because people are so mean and poor-spirited; and because they think +that money is more than anything else. It should be nothing at all in +such matters. I don't know how it can be anything. They have been +saying that to me all along,—as though one were to stop to think +whether one was rich or poor." Tregear, when this was said, could not +but remember that at a time not very much prior to that at which Mary +had not stopped to think, neither for a while had he and Mabel. "I +suppose it was worse for me than for you," she added.</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"But it was, Frank; and therefore I ought to have it made up to me +now. It was very bad to be alone here, particularly when I felt that +papa always looked at me as though I were a sinner. He did not mean +it, but he could not help looking at me like that. And there was +nobody to whom I could say a word."</p> + +<p>"It was pretty much the same with me."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but you were not offending a father who could not keep himself +from looking reproaches at you. I was like a boy at school who had +been put into Coventry. And then they sent me to Lady Cantrip!"</p> + +<p>"Was that very bad?"</p> + +<p>"I do believe that if I were a young woman with a well-ordered mind, +I should feel myself very much indebted to Lady Cantrip. She had a +terrible task of it. But I could not teach myself to like her. I +believe she knew all through that I should get my way at last."</p> + +<p>"That ought to have made you friends."</p> + +<p>"But yet she tried everything she could. And when I told her about +that meeting up at Lord Grex's, she was so shocked! Do you remember +that?"</p> + +<p>"Do I remember it!"</p> + +<p>"Were not you shocked?" This question was not to be answered by any +word. "I was," she continued. "It was an awful thing to do; but I was +determined to show them all that I was in earnest. Do you remember +how Miss Cassewary looked?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Cassewary knew all about it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay she did. And so I suppose did Mabel Grex. I had thought +that perhaps I might make Mabel a confidante, but—" Then she looked +up into his face.</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"You like Mabel, do you not? I do."</p> + +<p>"I like her very, very much."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you have liked her too well for that, eh, Frank?"</p> + +<p>"Too well for what?"</p> + +<p>"That she should have heard all that I had to say about you with +sympathy. If so, I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>"You need not fear that I have ever for a moment been untrue either +to her or you."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you have not to me. Poor Mabel! Then they took me to +Custins. That was worst of all. I cannot quite tell you what happened +there." Of course he asked her,—but, as she had said, she could not +quite tell him about Lord Popplecourt.</p> + +<p>The next morning the Duke asked his guest in a playful tone what was +his Christian name. It could hardly be that he should not have known, +but yet he asked the question. "Francis Oliphant," said Tregear. +"Those are two Christian names I suppose, but what do they call you +at home?"</p> + +<p>"Frank," whispered Mary, who was with them.</p> + +<p>"Then I will call you Frank, if you will allow me. The use of +Christian names is, I think, pleasant and hardly common enough among +us. I almost forget my own boy's name because the practice has grown +up of calling him by a title."</p> + +<p>"I am going to call him Abraham," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Abraham is a good name, only I do not think he got it from his +godfathers and godmothers."</p> + +<p>"Who can call a man Plantagenet? I should as soon think of calling my +father-in-law Cœur de Lion."</p> + +<p>"So he is," said Mary. Whereupon the Duke kissed the two girls and +went his way,—showing that by this time he had adopted the one and +the proposed husband of the other into his heart.</p> + +<p>The day before the Duke started for London to be present at the grand +marriage he sent for Frank. "I suppose," said he, "that you would +wish that some time should be fixed for your own marriage." To this +the accepted suitor of course assented. "But before we can do that +something must be settled about—money." Tregear when he heard this +became hot all over, and felt that he could not restrain his blushes. +Such must be the feeling of a man when he finds himself compelled to +own to a girl's father that he intends to live upon her money and not +upon his own. "I do not like to be troublesome," continued the Duke, +"or to ask questions which might seem to be impertinent."</p> + +<p>"Oh no! Of course I feel my position. I can only say that it was not +because your daughter might probably have money that I first sought +her love."</p> + +<p>"It shall be so received. And now— But perhaps it will be best that +you should arrange all this with my man of business. Mr. Moreton +shall be instructed. Mr. Moreton lives near my place in Barsetshire, +but is now in London. If you will call on him he shall tell you what +I would suggest. I hope you will find that your affairs will be +comfortable. And now as to the time."</p> + +<p>Isabel's wedding was declared by the newspapers to have been one of +the most brilliant remembered in the metropolis. There were six +bridesmaids, of whom of course Mary was one,—and of whom poor Lady +Mabel Grex was equally of course not another. Poor Lady Mabel was at +this time with Miss Cassewary at Grex, paying what she believed would +be a last visit to the old family home. Among the others were two +American girls, brought into that august society for the sake of +courtesy rather than of personal love. And there were two other +Palliser girls and a Scotch McCloskie cousin. The breakfast was of +course given by Mr. Boncassen at his house in Brook Street, where the +bridal presents were displayed. And not only were they displayed; but +a list of them, with an approximating statement as to their value, +appeared in one or two of the next day's newspapers;—as to which +terrible sin against good taste neither was Mr. or Mrs. Boncassen +guilty. But in these days, in which such splendid things were done on +so very splendid a scale, a young lady cannot herself lay out her +friends' gifts so as to be properly seen by her friends. Some +well-skilled, well-paid hand is needed even for that, and hence comes +this public information on affairs which should surely be private. In +our grandmothers' time the happy bride's happy mother herself +compounded the cake;—or at any rate the trusted housekeeper. But we +all know that terrible tower of silver which now stands +niddle-noddling with its appendages of flags and spears on the modern +wedding breakfast-table. It will come to pass with some of us soon +that we must deny ourselves the pleasure of having young friends, +because their marriage presents are so costly.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Boncassen had not perhaps a happy time with her august +guests on that morning; but when she retired to give Isabel her last +kiss in privacy she did feel proud to think that her daughter would +some day be an English Duchess.</p> + + +<p><a name="c80" id="c80"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXX</h3> +<h3>The Second Wedding<br /> </h3> + + +<p>November is not altogether an hymeneal month, but it was not till +November that Lady Mary Palliser became the wife of Frank Tregear. It +was postponed a little, perhaps, in order that the Silverbridges,—as +they were now called,—might be present. The Silverbridges, who were +now quite Darby and Joan, had gone to the States when the Session had +been brought to a close early in August, and had remained there +nearly three months. Isabel had taken infinite pleasure in showing +her English husband to her American friends, and the American friends +had no doubt taken a pride in seeing so glorious a British husband in +the hands of an American wife. Everything was new to Silverbridge, +and he was happy in his new possession. She too enjoyed it +infinitely, and so it happened that they had been unwilling to +curtail their sojourn. But in November they had to return, because +Mary had declared that her marriage should be postponed till it could +be graced by the presence of her elder brother.</p> + +<p>The marriage of Silverbridge had been August. There had been a +manifest intention that it should be so. Nobody knew with whom this +originated. Mrs. Boncassen had probably been told that it ought to be +so, and Mr. Boncassen had been willing to pay the bill. External +forces had perhaps operated. The Duke had simply been passive and +obedient. There had however been a general feeling that the bride of +the heir of the house of Omnium should be produced to the world +amidst a blare of trumpets and a glare of torches. So it had been. +But both the Duke and Mary were determined that this other wedding +should be different. It was to take place at Matching, and none would +be present but they who were staying in the house, or who lived +around,—such as tenants and dependants. Four clergymen united their +forces to tie Isabel to her husband, one of whom was a bishop, one a +canon, and the two others royal chaplains; but there was only to be +the Vicar of the parish at Matching. And indeed there were no guests +in the house except the two bridesmaids and Mr. and Mrs. Finn. As to +Mrs. Finn, Mary had made a request, and then the Duke had suggested +that the husband should be asked to accompany his wife.</p> + +<p>It was very pretty. The church itself is pretty, standing in the +park, close to the ruins of the old Priory, not above three hundred +yards from the house. And they all walked, taking the broad pathway +through the ruins, going under that figure of Sir Guy which +Silverbridge had pointed out to Isabel when they had been whispering +there together. The Duke led the way with his girl upon his arm. The +two bridesmaids followed. Then Silverbridge and his wife, with +Phineas and his wife. Gerald and the bridegroom accompanied them, +belonging as it were to the same party! It was very rustic;—almost +improper! "This is altogether wrong, you know," said Gerald. "You +should appear coming from some other part of the world, as if you +were almost unexpected. You ought not to have been in the house at +all, and certainly should have gone under some disguise."</p> + +<p>There had been rich presents too on this occasion, but they were +shown to none except to Mrs. Finn and the bridesmaids,—and perhaps +to the favoured servants in the house. At any rate there was nothing +said of them in the newspapers. One present there was,—given not to +the bride but to the bridegroom,—which he showed to no one except to +her. This came to him only on the morning of his marriage, and the +envelope containing it bore the postmark of Sedbergh. He knew the +handwriting well before he opened the parcel. It contained a small +signet-ring with his crest, and with it there were but a few words +written on a scrap of paper. "I pray that you may be happy. This was +to have been given to you long ago, but I kept it back because of +that decision." He showed the ring to Mary and told her it had come +from Lady Mabel;—but the scrap of paper no one saw but himself.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the matter most remarkable in the wedding was the hilarity of +the Duke. One who did not know him well might have said that he was a +man with few cares, and who now took special joy in the happiness of +his children,—who was thoroughly contented to see them marry after +their own hearts. And yet, as he stood there on the altar-steps +giving his daughter to that new son and looking first at his girl, +and then at his married son, he was reminding himself of all that he +had suffered.</p> + +<p>After the breakfast,—which was by no means a grand repast and at +which the cake did not look so like an ill-soldered silver castle as +that other construction had done,—the happy couple were sent away in +a modest chariot to the railway station, and not above half-a-dozen +slippers were thrown after them. There were enough for luck,—or +perhaps there might have been luck even without them, for the wife +thoroughly respected her husband, as did the husband his wife. Mrs. +Finn, when she was alone with Phineas, said a word or two about Frank +Tregear. "When she first told me of her engagement I did not think it +possible that she should marry him. But after he had been with me I +felt sure that he would succeed."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Silverbridge to the Duke when they were out +together in the park that afternoon, "what do you think about him?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is a manly young man."</p> + +<p>"He is certainly that. And then he knows things and understands them. +It was never a surprise to me that Mary should have been so fond of +him."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that one ought to be surprised at anything. Perhaps +what surprised me most was that he should have looked so high. There +seemed to be so little to justify it. But now I will accept that as +courage which I before regarded as arrogance."</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUKE'S CHILDREN***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 3622-h.txt or 3622-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/2/3622">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/2/3622</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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