I claim to say for myself that my love to you was true from first to last, and I claim from you belief for that statement. Indeed I do not think that you ever doubted my love.

Indeed my love to you was true from first to last, and I do not think you ever doubted it.


Nevertheless, when you told me that I might no longer hope to make you my wife, I had no word of remonstrance that I could utter.

Nevertheless, when you told me that I might no longer hope to make you my wife, I had no answer.


You acted as any woman would act whom love had not made a fool.


Then came the episode of Mr. Grey; and bitter as have been my feelings whilst that engagement lasted, I never made any attempt to come between you and the life you had chosen.

Then came the episode of Mr. Grey; and bitter as have been my feelings during that engagement, I never tried to come between you and the life you had chosen.


In saying this I do not forget the words which I spoke last summer at Basle, when, as far as I knew, you still intended that he should be your husband.

I do not forget the words which I spoke last summer at Basle, when you still intended to marry him.


But what I said then was nothing to that which, with much violence, I refrained from saying.

But what I said then was nothing to what I refrained from saying.


Whether you remember those few words I cannot tell; but certainly you would not have remembered them,--would not even have noticed them,--had your heart been at Nethercoats.

Whether you remember those few words I cannot tell.


You are now again a free woman; and once again I ask you to be my wife.

But you are now again a free woman; and once again I ask you to be my wife.


We are both older than we were when we loved before, and will both be prone to think of marriage in a somewhat different light.

We are both older than we were when we loved before, and will both think of marriage in a somewhat different light.


Then personal love for each other was most in our thoughts.


God forbid that it should not be much in our thoughts now! Perhaps I am deceiving myself in saying that it is not even now stronger in mine than any other consideration.

God forbid that love should not be in our thoughts now - and my love for you is stronger than any other consideration.


But we have both reached that time of life, when it is probable that in any proposition of marriage we should think more of our adaptability to each other than we did before.

But we have both reached that time of life when we should think more of our adaptability to each other than we did before.


For myself I know that there is much in my character and disposition to make me unfit to marry a woman of the common stamp.

I know that there is much in my character to make me unfit to marry an ordinary woman.


You know my mode of life, and what are my hopes and my chances of success.

You know my mode of life, and my hopes and my chances of success.


It may be that I shall encounter ruin where I look for reputation and a career of honour.

It may be that I shall encounter ruin where I look for a career of honour.


The chances are perhaps more in favour of ruin than of success.


But, whatever may be the chances, I shall go on as long as any means of carrying on the fight are at my disposal.

But, whatever my chances, I shall go on as long as I can.


If you were my wife to-morrow I should expect to use your money, if it were needed, in struggling to obtain a seat in Parliament and a hearing there.

If you were my wife tomorrow I should expect to use your money, if it were needed, in struggling to obtain a seat in Parliament.


I will hardly stoop to tell you that I do not ask you to be my wife for the sake of this aid;--but if you were to become my wife I should expect all your cooperation;--with your money, possibly, but certainly with your warmest spirit.

I do not ask you to be my wife for the sake of this aid; but if you were to become my wife I should expect all your cooperation - with your money, possibly, but certainly with your warmest spirit.


And now, once again, Alice,--dearest Alice, will you be my wife?

And now, once again, dearest Alice, will you be my wife?


I have been punished, and I have kissed the rod,--as I never kissed any other rod. You cannot accuse my love. Since the time in which I might sit with my arm round your waist, I have sat with it round no other waist. Since your lips were mine, no other lips have been dear to me. Since you were my counsellor, I have had no other counsellor,--unless it be poor Kate, whose wish that we may at length be married is second in earnestness only to my own.

I have been punished, and no other woman has held any place in my heart.


Nor do I think you will doubt my repentance.


Such repentance indeed claims no merit, as it has been the natural result of the loss which I have suffered.


Providence has hitherto been very good to me in not having made that loss irremediable by your marriage with Mr. Grey.

Providence has been very good to me in giving me another chance.


I wish you now to consider the matter well, and to tell me whether you can pardon me and still love me.

Tell me whether you can pardon me and still love me.


Do I flatter myself when I feel that I doubt your pardon almost more than I doubt your love?


Think of this thing in all its bearings before you answer me.


I am so anxious that you should think of it that I will not expect your reply till this day week.

I will not expect your reply for a week.


It can hardly be your desire to go through life unmarried.


I should say that it must be essential to your ambition that you should join your lot to that of some man the nature of whose aspirations would be like to your own.

I should say that it must be essential to your ambition that you should join your lot to that of some man with aspirations like your own.


It is because this was not so as regarded him whose suit you had accepted, that you found yourself at last obliged to part from him.

It is because of this that you found yourself obliged to part from Mr. Grey.


May I not say that with us there would be no such difference?


It is because I believe that in this respect we are fitted for each other, as man and woman seldom are fitted, that I once again ask you to be my wife.

I believe that in this respect we are fitted for each other.


This will reach you at Vavasor, where you will now be with the old squire and Kate.

This will reach you at Vavasor Hall, where you will now be with the old squire and Kate.


I have told her nothing of my purpose in writing this letter.


If it should be that your answer is such as I desire, I should use the opportunity of our re-engagement to endeavour to be reconciled to my grandfather.

If you should accept me, I would try to be reconciled to my grandfather.


He has misunderstood me and has ill-used me.


But I am ready to forgive that, if he will allow me to do so.

But I am ready to forgive that, if he will allow me to.


In such case you and Kate would arrange that, and I would, if possible, go down to Vavasor while you are there.

In that case I would, if possible, go down to Vavasor while you are there.


But I am galloping on a-head foolishly in thinking of this, and am counting up my wealth while the crockery in my basket is so very fragile.


One word from you will decide whether or no I shall ever bring it into market.


If that word is to be adverse do not say anything of a meeting between me and the Squire. Under such circumstances it would be impossible.

If your answer is to be adverse, a meeting between me and the Squire would be impossible.


Your woman's pride towards me has been great and good and womanly; but it has had its way; and, if you love me, might now be taught to succumb.

Your woman's pride towards me has been great and good and womanly; but it has had its way; and, if you love me, might now succumb.


Yours, in any event, most affectionately,


Vavasor, when he had finished his letter, went back to his seat over the fire, and there he sat with it close at his hand for nearly an hour.

Vavasor, when he had finished his letter, went back to his seat over the fire, and there he sat with it by his hand for nearly an hour.


Once or twice he took it up with fingers almost itching to throw it into the fire.

Once or twice he took it up and almost threw it in the fire.


He took it up and held the corners between his forefinger and thumb, throwing forward his hand towards the flame, as though willing that the letter should escape from him and perish if chance should so decide.


But chance did not so decide, and the letter was put back upon the table at his elbow.

But the letter was put back upon the table.


Then when the hour was nearly over he read it again.


"I'll bet two to one that she gives way," he said to himself, as he put the sheet of paper back into the envelope.

"I'll bet two to one that she gives way," he said to himself, as he put the sheet of paper into the envelope.


Then he took his candle, and carrying his letter with him, went into his bedroom.

Then he took his candle, and went to bed.


The next morning was the morning of Christmas Eve.


At about nine o'clock a boy came into his room who was accustomed to call for orders for the day.

At about nine o'clock in the morning a boy came into his room to ask for orders for the day.


"Jem," he said to the boy, "there's half a crown lying there on the looking-glass."


Jem looked and acknowledged the presence of the half-crown.


Jem scrutinized the coin, and declared that the uppermost surface showed a tail.


"Then take that letter and post it," said George Vavasor.


Whereupon Jem, asking no question and thinking but little of the circumstances under which the command was given, did take the letter and did post it.


In due accordance with postal regulations it reached Vavasor Hall and was delivered to Alice on the Christmas morning.

It reached Vavasor Hall and was delivered to Alice on Christmas morning.


A merry Christmas did not fall to the lot of George Vavasor on the present occasion.

George Vavasor did not have a merry Christmas.


An early Christmas-box he did receive in the shape of a very hurried note from his friend Burgo.

He received an early gift in the shape of a very hurried note from his friend Burgo.


"This will be brought to you by Stickling," the note said; but who Stickling was Vavasor did not know.


Couldn't you get the money and send it me, as I don't want to go up to town again before the thing comes off?

Could you get the money and send it me, as I don't want to go up to town again?


You're a trump; and will do the best you can.


Don't let that rogue off for less than a hundred and twenty.--Yours, B. F." Vavasor, therefore, having nothing better to do, spent his Christmas morning in calling on Mr. Magruin.

Don't let that rogue off for less than a hundred and twenty. Yours, B. F."
Vavasor, therefore, spent his Christmas morning in calling on Mr. Magruin.


"Oh, Mr. Vavasor," said Magruin; "really this is no morning for business!"

"Oh, Mr. Vavasor," said Magruin, "this is no morning for business!"


"Time and tide wait for no man, Mr. Magruin, and my friend wants his money to-morrow."


If time and tide won't wait, neither will love.


Come, Mr. Magruin, out with your cheque-book, and don't let's have any nonsense."


"Ladies never are sure," said Vavasor; "hardly more sure than bills made over to money-lenders.


There's no getting money in the city to-day."


But Vavasor before he left did get the money from Mr. Magruin,--122 10s.--for which an acceptance at two months for 500 was given in exchange,--and carried it off in triumph.

He did get the money from Mr. Magruin - 122 10s. - in exchange for a promise of 500 in two months.


"Do tell him to be punctual," said Mr. Magruin, when Vavasor took his leave.

"Do tell him to be punctual," said Mr. Magruin.


But I really think Mr. Fitzgerald is the most unpunctual young man I ever did know yet."

"I really think Mr. Fitzgerald is the most unpunctual young man I ever knew."


"I think he is," said George Vavasor, as he went away.


He ate his Christmas dinner in absolute solitude at an eating-house near his lodgings.

He ate his Christmas dinner in solitude at an eating-house near his lodgings.


It may be supposed that no man dares to dine at his club on a Christmas Day.


He at any rate did not so dare;--and after dinner he wandered about through the streets, wondering within his mind how he would endure the restraints of married life.

After dinner he wandered through the streets, wondering how he would endure the restraints of married life.


And the same dull monotony of his days was continued for a week, during which he waited, not impatiently, for an answer to his letter.

The same dull monotony of his days was continued for a week, while he waited for an answer to his letter.


And before the end of the week the answer came.


When the first of the new year came round Lady Glencora was not keeping her appointment at Lady Monk's house.

In the new year Lady Glencora did not go to Lady Monk's house.


She went to Gatherum Castle, and let us hope that she enjoyed the magnificent Christmas hospitality of the Duke; but when the time came for moving on to Monkshade, she was indisposed, and Mr. Palliser went thither alone.

When the time came for moving on to Monkshade, she was unwell, and Mr. Palliser went there alone.


Lady Glencora returned to Matching and remained at home, while her husband was away, in company with the two Miss Pallisers.

Lady Glencora remained at Matching with the two Miss Pallisers.


When the tidings reached Monkshade that Lady Glencora was not to be expected, Burgo Fitzgerald was already there, armed with such pecuniary assistance as George Vavasor had been able to wrench out of the hands of Mr. Magruin.

When the tidings reached Monkshade that Lady Glencora was not to be expected, Burgo Fitzgerald was already there, armed with the money George Vavasor had been able to wrench out of the hands of Mr. Magruin.


"Burgo," said his aunt, catching him one morning near his bedroom door as he was about to go down-stairs in hunting trim, "Burgo, your old flame, Lady Glencora, is not coming here."

"Burgo," said his aunt, Lady Monk, catching him one morning as he was about to go downstairs in his hunting-clothes, "Burgo, your old flame, Lady Glencora, is not coming."


said Burgo, betraying by his look and the tone of his voice too clearly that this change in the purpose of a married lady was to him of more importance than it should have been.

said Burgo, betraying too clearly by his look and voice that this was more important to him than it should have been.


Such betrayal, however, to Lady Monk was not perhaps matter of much moment.


It can't be matter of any moment to you now."


"But, by heavens, it is," said he, putting his hand up to his forehead, and leaning back against the wall of the passage as though in despair.

"But it does," said he, putting his hand up to his forehead, and leaning back against the wall as though in despair.


I am the most unfortunate devil that ever lived."


You must not speak in that way of a married woman.


I begin to think it is better that she should not come."


At this moment another man booted and spurred came down the passage, upon whom Lady Monk smiled sweetly, speaking some pretty little word as he passed. Burgo spoke never a word, but still stood leaning against the wall, with his hand to his forehead, showing that he had heard something which had moved him greatly. "Come back into your room, Burgo," said his aunt; and they both went in at the door that was nearest to them, for Lady Monk had been on the look-out for him, and had caught him as soon as he appeared in the passage.

As another guest approached, she said, "Come back into your room, Burgo."
There Lady Monk continued.


"If this does annoy you, you should keep it to yourself!

"If this annoys you, keep it to yourself!


"But you would not wish to injure her, I suppose?


I thought it best to tell you, for fear you should show any special sign of surprise if you heard of it first in public.

"I thought it best to tell you, for fear you should show surprise if you heard it in public.


It is very weak in you to allow yourself to feel that sort of regard for a married woman.


If you cannot constrain yourself I shall be afraid to let you meet her in Brook Street."

If you cannot control yourself I shall be afraid to let you meet her in Brook Street."


Burgo looked for a moment into his aunt's face without answering her, and then turned away towards the door.

Burgo looked for a moment at his aunt, and then turned towards the door.


"You can do as you please about that," said he; "but you know as well as I do what I have made up my mind to do."

"You can do as you please about that," said he; "but you know what I have made up my mind to do."


"Nonsense, Burgo; I know nothing of the kind.


But do you go down-stairs to breakfast, and don't look like that when you go among the people there."

Go downstairs to breakfast, and don't look like that when you get there."


Lady Monk was a woman now about fifty years of age, who had been a great beauty, and who was still handsome in her advanced age. Her figure was very good. She was tall and of fine proportion, though by no means verging to that state of body which our excellent American friend and critic Mr. Hawthorne has described as beefy and has declared to be the general condition of English ladies of Lady Monk's age.

Lady Monk was about fifty years of age, had been a great beauty, and was still good-looking, with a fine, tall figure.


She was a comely, handsome, upright, dame,--one of whom, as regards her outward appearance, England might be proud,--and of whom Sir Cosmo Monk was very proud.

She was outwardly a handsome, upright, dame, of whom England might be proud - and of whom Sir Cosmo Monk was very proud.


She had come of the family of the Worcestershire Fitzgeralds, of whom it used to be said that there never was one who was not beautiful and worthless.

She had come of the family of the Worcestershire Fitzgeralds, of whom it was said that there never was one who was not beautiful and worthless.


Looking at Lady Monk you would hardly think that she could be a worthless woman; but there were one or two who professed to know her, and who declared that she was a true scion of the family to which she belonged;--that even her husband's ample fortune had suffered from her extravagance, that she had quarrelled with her only son, and had succeeded in marrying her daughter to the greatest fool in the peerage.

Looking at Lady Monk you would hardly think that she could be a worthless woman; but her husband's fortune had suffered from her extravagance, she had quarrelled with her only son, and had married her daughter to the greatest fool in the peerage.


She had striven very hard to bring about a marriage between her nephew and the great heiress, and was a woman not likely to pardon those who had foiled her.

She had striven very hard to bring about a marriage between her nephew Burgo and the great heiress Lady Glencora, and she was not a woman to pardon those who had foiled her.


At this moment Burgo felt very certain that his aunt was aware of his purpose, and could not forgive her for pretending to be innocent of it.

Burgo felt certain that his aunt was aware of his purpose, and could not forgive her for pretending not to know it.


In this he was most ungrateful, as well as unreasonable,--and very indiscreet also.


Had he been a man who ever reflected he must have known that such a woman as his aunt could only assist him as long as she might be presumed to be ignorant of his intention.

Had he been a man who ever reflected, he must have known that his aunt could only assist him if she was presumed to be ignorant of his intention.


The Fitzgeralds never reflected till they were nearer forty than thirty, and then people began to think worse of them than they had thought before.


When Burgo reached the dining-room there were many men there, but no ladies. Sir Cosmo Monk, a fine bald-headed hale man of about sixty, was standing up at the sideboard, cutting a huge game pie.

When Burgo reached the dining-room Sir Cosmo Monk, a fine bald-headed man of about sixty, was standing at the sideboard, cutting a huge game pie.


He was a man also who did not reflect much, but who contrived to keep straight in his course through the world without much reflection.

He also was a man who did not reflect much, but who managed to keep straight in his course through the world without much reflection.


"Palliser is coming without her," he said in his loud clear voice, thinking nothing of his wife's nephew.

"Palliser is coming without her," he was saying in his loud clear voice.


"She's a deal the better fellow of the two."


"She has twice more go in her than Planty Pall," said another.

"She has more go in her than Planty Pall," said another.


"Planty is no fool, I can tell you," said Sir Cosmo, coming to the table with his plate full of pie.


"We think he's about the most rising man we have."

"He's about the most rising man we have."


Sir Cosmo was the member for his county, and was a Liberal.

Sir Cosmo was the member of parliament for his county, and was a Liberal.


He had once, when a much younger man, been at the Treasury, and had since always spoken of the Whig Government as though he himself were in some sort a part of it.


"Burgo, do you hear that Palliser is coming without his wife?"


said one man,--a very young man, who hardly knew what had been the circumstances of the case.

said one man, who did not know Burgo's history.


The others, when they saw Burgo enter, had been silent on the subject of Lady Glencora.


"I have heard,--and be d----d to him," said Burgo.

"I have heard, and be d--d to him," said Burgo.


Then there was suddenly a silence in the room, and everyone seemed to attend assiduously to his breakfast.

There was suddenly silence in the room, and everyone attended assiduously to breakfast.


It was very terrible, this clear expression of a guilty meaning with reference to the wife of another man!


Burgo regarded neither his plate nor his cup, but thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets, sat back in his chair with the blackness as of a thunder cloud upon his brow.

Burgo sat back with his hands thrust into his breeches pockets, and the blackness of a thunder cloud upon his brow.


[Illustration: "I have heard," said Burgo.]


"Burgo, you had better eat your breakfast," said Sir Cosmo.


He took, however, a bit of toast, and crumbling it up in his hand as he put a morsel into his mouth, went away to the sideboard and filled for himself a glass of cherry brandy.

He took, however, a morsel of toast, and went to the sideboard and filled himself a glass of cherry brandy.


"If you don't eat any breakfast the less of that you take the better," said Sir Cosmo.


"I'm all right now," said he, and coming back to the table, went through some form of making a meal with a roll and a cup of tea.


They who were then present used afterwards to say that they should never forget that breakfast.

Those who were present used afterwards to say that they would never forget that breakfast.


There had been something, they declared, in the tone of Burgo's voice when he uttered his curse against Mr. Palliser, which had struck them all with dread.

There had been something, they declared, in the tone of Burgo's voice when he uttered his curse against Mr. Palliser, which struck them all with dread.


There had, too, they said, been a blackness in his face, so terrible to be seen, that it had taken from them all the power of conversation.

And the expression on his face had been terrible.


Sir Cosmo, when he had broken the ominous silence, had done so with a manifest struggle.


The loud clatter of glasses with which Burgo had swallowed his dram, as though resolved to show that he was regardless who might know that he was drinking, added to the feeling.


It may easily be understood that there was no further word spoken at that breakfast-table about Planty Pall or his wife.


On that day Burgo Fitzgerald startled all those who saw him by the mad way in which he rode.

On that day Burgo Fitzgerald startled everyone by the mad way in which he rode.


Early in the day there was no excuse for any such rashness.


The hounds went from wood to wood, and men went in troops along the forest sides as they do on such occasions.


But Burgo was seen to cram his horse at impracticable places, and to ride at gates and rails as though resolved to do himself and his uncle's steed a mischief.

He steered at gates and rails as though resolved to do himself and his uncle's horse a mischief.


This was so apparent that some friend spoke to Sir Cosmo Monk about it.


"He is a man whom no one's words will control.


Something has ruffled him this morning, and he must run his chance till he becomes quiet."

He must run his chance till he becomes quiet."


In the afternoon there was a good run, and Burgo again rode as hard as he could make his horse carry him;--but then there was the usual excuse for hard riding; and such riding in a straight run is not dangerous, as it is when the circumstances of the occasion do not warrant it, But, be that as it may, Burgo went on to the end of the day without accident, and as he went home, assured Sir Cosmo, in a voice which was almost cheery, that his mare Spinster was by far the best thing in the Monkshade stables.

In the afternoon Burgo again rode as hard as he could; but he finished the day without accident, and as he went home, assured Sir Cosmo, in a voice which was almost cheery, that his mare Spinster was the best horse in the Monkshade stables.


Indeed Spinster made quite a character that day, and was sold at the end of the season for three hundred guineas on the strength of it.


I am, however, inclined to believe that there was nothing particular about the mare.


Horses always catch the temperament of their riders, and when a man wishes to break his neck, he will generally find a horse willing to assist him in appearance, but able to save him in the performance.


Burgo, at any rate, did not break his neck, and appeared at the dinner-table in a better humour than that which he had displayed in the morning.

Burgo appeared at the dinner-table in a better humour than in the morning.


On the day appointed Mr. Palliser reached Monkshade.


He was, in a manner, canvassing for the support of the Liberal party, and it would not have suited him to show any indifference to the invitation of so influential a man as Sir Cosmo. Sir Cosmo had a little party of his own in the House, consisting of four or five other respectable country gentlemen, who troubled themselves little with thinking, and who mostly had bald heads.

He could not have declined the invitation of so influential a man as Sir Cosmo, who had a little party of his own in the House, consisting of four or five other respectable and bald-headed country gentlemen.


Sir Cosmo was a man with whom it was quite necessary that such an aspirant as Mr. Palliser should stand well, and therefore Mr. Palliser came to Monkshade, although Lady Glencora was unable to accompany him.

Therefore Mr. Palliser came to Monkshade, although Lady Glencora was unable to accompany him.


"We have been looking forward to having Lady Glencora with us beyond everything."

"We have been looking forward to having Lady Glencora with us.


Mr. Palliser declared that Lady Glencora herself was overwhelmed with grief in that she should have been debarred from making this special visit.


She had, however, been so unwell at Gatherum, the anxious husband declared, as to make it unsafe for her to go again away from home.


"I hope it is nothing serious," said Lady Monk, with a look of grief so well arranged that any stranger would have thought that all the Pallisers must have been very dear to her heart.


Then Mr. Palliser went on to explain that Lady Glencora had unfortunately been foolish. During one of those nights of hard frost she had gone out among the ruins at Matching, to show them by moonlight to a friend.

Then Mr. Palliser explained that Lady Glencora had unfortunately been foolish, and had gone out on a frosty night among the ruins at Matching, to show them to a friend.


The friend had thoughtlessly, foolishly, and in a manner which Mr. Palliser declared to be very reprehensible, allowed Lady Glencora to remain among the ruins till she had caught cold.

The friend had thoughtlessly allowed Lady Glencora to remain among the ruins till she had caught cold.


said Lady Monk with considerable emphasis.


"It was very wrong," said Mr. Palliser, speaking of poor Alice almost maliciously.


"However, she caught a cold which, unfortunately, has become worse at my uncle's, and so I was obliged to take her home."

"Glencora caught a cold which, unfortunately, became worse at my uncle's, and so I was obliged to take her home."


Lady Monk perceived that Mr. Palliser had in truth left his wife behind because he believed her to be ill, and not because he was afraid of Burgo Fitzgerald.


So accomplished a woman as Lady Monk felt no doubt that the wife's absence was caused by fear of the lover, and not by any cold caught in viewing ruins by moonlight.

But she was sure that the wife's absence was caused by fear of Burgo.


She was not to be deceived in such a matter.


But she became aware that Mr. Palliser had been deceived.

She felt that Mr. Palliser had been deceived.


As she was right in this we must go back for a moment, and say a word of things as they went on at Matching after Alice Vavasor had left that place.

As she was right in this, we must go back for a moment, to the events after Alice had left Matching.


Alice had told Miss Palliser that steps ought to be taken, whatever might be their cost, to save Lady Glencora from the peril of a visit to Monkshade.

Alice had told Miss Palliser that steps ought to be taken to save Lady Glencora from the peril of a visit to Monkshade.


To this Miss Palliser had assented, and, when she left Alice, was determined to tell Mr. Palliser the whole story.

Miss Palliser had agreed, and, when she left Alice, was determined to tell Mr. Palliser.


But when the time for doing so had come, her courage failed her.


She could not find words in which to warn the husband that his wife would not be safe in the company of her old lover.


The task with Lady Glencora herself, bad as that would be, might be easier, and this task she at last undertook,--not without success.

However, she managed to speak to Lady Glencora herself.


"Glencora," she said, when she found a fitting opportunity, "you won't be angry, I hope, if I say a word to you?"

"Glencora," she said, "you won't be angry, I hope, if I say a word to you?"


"That depends very much upon what the word is," said Lady Glencora.

"That depends on what the word is," said Lady Glencora.


And here it must be acknowledged that Mr. Palliser's wife had not done much to ingratiate herself with Mr. Palliser's cousins;--not perhaps so much as she should have done, seeing that she found them in her husband's house.

She had not done much to ingratiate herself with Mr. Palliser's cousins; not perhaps so much as she should have done.


She had taught herself to think that they were hard, stiff, and too proud of bearing the name of Palliser.


Perhaps some little attempt may have been made by one or both of them to teach her something, and it need hardly be said that such an attempt on the part of a husband's unmarried female relations would not be forgiven by a young bride.

If they tried to teach her on any point, she did not easily forgive them.


She had undoubtedly been ungracious, and of this Miss Palliser was well aware.


"Well,--the word shall be as little unpleasant as I can make it," said Miss Palliser, already appreciating fully the difficulty of her task.

"Well, the word shall be as little unpleasant as I can make it," said Miss Palliser.


"But why say anything that is unpleasant?


However, if it is to be said, let us have it over at once."


"You are going to Monkshade, I believe, with Plantagenet."


"Dear Glencora, I think you had better not go.


said Lady Glencora, turning upon her very sharply.


"Nobody has been talking to me;--not in the sense you mean."


"You may be sure that he would not utter a word on such a subject to anyone unless it were to yourself.


But, dear Glencora, you should not go there;--I mean it in all kindness and love,--I do indeed."

"But, dear Glencora, you should not go there; I mean it in all kindness and love - I do indeed."


Saying this she offered her hand to Glencora, and Glencora took it.


"Perhaps you do," said she in a low voice.


The world is so hard and cruel in what it says."


"I do not care two straws for what the world says."


Lady Monk was my friend once, but I do not care if I never see her again.


"But he will not take you there if you say you do not wish it."


"I have said so, and he told me that I must go.


You will hardly believe me,--but I condescended even to tell him why I thought it better to remain away.

I even told him why I thought it better to stay away.


He told me, in answer, that it was a silly folly which I must live down, and that it did not become me to be afraid of any man."

He told me that it was a silly folly which I must overcome, and that I should not be afraid of any man."


I am afraid;--but what can I do more than I have done?"


This was very terrible to Miss Palliser.


She had not thought that Lady Glencora would say so much, and she felt a true regret in having been made to hear words which so nearly amounted to a confession.


There were not many more words between them, and we already know the result of the conversation.


Lady Glencora became so ill from the effects of her imprudent lingering among the ruins that she was unable to go to Monkshade.


Mr. Palliser remained three days at Monkshade, and cemented his political alliance with Sir Cosmo much in the same way as he had before done with the Duke of St. Bungay.

Mr. Palliser remained three days at Monkshade, and cemented his political alliance with Sir Cosmo in the same way as he had done with the Duke of St. Bungay.


There was little or nothing said about politics, and certainly not a word that could be taken as any definite party understanding between the men; but they sat at dinner together at the same table, drank a glass of wine or two out of the same decanters, and dropped a chance word now and again about the next session of Parliament.

There was little said about politics; but they sat at dinner together, drank a glass of wine or two out of the same decanters, and dropped a chance word now and again about the next session of Parliament.


I do not know that anything more had been expected either by Mr. Palliser or by Sir Cosmo; but it seemed to be understood when Mr. Palliser went away that Sir Cosmo was of opinion that that young scion of a ducal house ought to become the future Chancellor of the Exchequer in the Whig Government.


"I can't see that there's so much in him," said one young member of Parliament to Sir Cosmo.

"I can't see that there's so much in him," said one young member of Parliament to Sir Cosmo, once Mr. Palliser had left.


"I rather think that there is, all the same," said the baronet.

"I rather think that there is," said the baronet.


I dare say he's not very bright, but I don't know that we want brightness. A bright financier is the most dangerous man in the world.

I dare say he's not very bright, but a bright financier is the most dangerous man in the world.


Give me sound common sense, with just enough of the gab in a man to enable him to say what he's got to say!


From which it became evident that Sir Cosmo was satisfied with the new political candidate for high place.

From which it became evident that Sir Cosmo was satisfied with Mr. Palliser.


Lady Monk took an occasion to introduce Mr. Palliser to Burgo Fitzgerald; with what object it is difficult to say, unless she was anxious to make mischief between the men.

Lady Monk took an opportunity of introducing Mr. Palliser to Burgo Fitzgerald; why, it is difficult to say, unless it was to make mischief between the men.


Burgo scowled at him; but Mr. Palliser did not notice the scowl, and put out his hand to his late rival most affably. Burgo was forced to take it, and as he did so made a little speech.

Burgo scowled at him; but Mr. Palliser did not notice, and put out his hand so affably that Burgo was forced to take it.


"I'm sorry that we have not the pleasure of seeing Lady Glencora with you," said he.

"I'm sorry that we have not the pleasure of seeing Lady Glencora," said he.


"She is unfortunately indisposed," said Mr. Palliser.


"I am sorry for it," said Burgo--"very sorry indeed."


Then he turned his back and walked away.


The few words he had spoken, and the manner in which he had carried himself, had been such as to make all those around them notice it. Each of them knew that Lady Glencora's name should not have been in Burgo's mouth, and all felt a fear not easily to be defined that something terrible would come of it.

His speech and manner were such that everyone around noticed, and felt an indefinable fear.


But Mr. Palliser himself did not seem to notice anything, or to fear anything; and nothing terrible did come of it during that visit of his to Monkshade.

But Mr. Palliser himself did not seem to notice anything; and nothing terrible came of it during his visit to Monkshade.


Mr. Palliser was one of those politicians in possessing whom England has perhaps more reason to be proud than of any other of her resources, and who, as a body, give to her that exquisite combination of conservatism and progress which is her present strength and best security for the future.

Mr. Palliser was one of those politicians of whom England can be prouder than of any other of her resources, giving her that combination of conservatism and progress which is her present strength and best security for the future.


He could afford to learn to be a statesman, and had the industry wanted for such training.

He had both the money and the industry needed by a statesman.


He was born in the purple, noble himself, and heir to the highest rank as well as one of the greatest fortunes of the country, already very rich, surrounded by all the temptations of luxury and pleasure; and yet he devoted himself to work with the grinding energy of a young penniless barrister labouring for a penniless wife, and did so without any motive more selfish than that of being counted in the roll of the public servants of England.

He was born into the nobility, and heir to the highest rank, already very rich; and yet he devoted himself to work with the grinding energy of a young penniless barrister, and did so unselfishly, wishing only to serve his country.


He was not a brilliant man, and understood well that such was the case.

He was not a brilliant man, and he knew it.


He was now listened to in the House, as the phrase goes; but he was listened to as a laborious man, who was in earnest in what he did, who got up his facts with accuracy, and who, dull though he be, was worthy of confidence.

He was listened to in the House as a laborious, earnest man, who was accurate in his facts, and who, though dull, was worthy of confidence.


He rather prided himself on being dull, and on conquering in spite of his dullness.

He rather prided himself on being dull, and on succeeding in spite of his dullness.


He never allowed himself a joke in his speeches, nor attempted even the smallest flourish of rhetoric.

He never allowed himself a joke in his speeches, nor attempted the smallest flourish of rhetoric.


He was very careful in his language, labouring night and day to learn to express himself with accuracy, with no needless repetition of words, perspicuously with regard to the special object he might have in view.

He was very careful in his language, labouring to learn to express himself accurately, with no needless repetition.


He had taught himself to believe that oratory, as oratory, was a sin against that honesty in politics by which he strove to guide himself.

He had taught himself to believe that oratory was a sin against honesty in politics.


He desired to use words for the purpose of teaching things which he knew and which others did not know; and he desired also to be honoured for his knowledge.

He desired to use words for the purpose of teaching things which he knew and which others did not know.


But he had no desire to be honoured for the language in which his knowledge was conveyed.


He was an upright, thin, laborious man; who by his parts alone could have served no political party materially, but whose parts were sufficient to make his education, integrity, and industry useful in the highest degree.

He was an upright, thin, laborious man; but his parts were sufficient to make his education, integrity, and industry useful in the highest degree.


It is the trust which such men inspire which makes them so serviceable;--trust not only in their labour,--for any man rising from the mass of the people may be equally laborious; nor yet simply in their honesty and patriotism.

It is the trust which such men inspire which makes them so useful.


The confidence is given to their labour, honesty, and patriotism joined to such a personal stake in the country as gives them a weight and ballast which no politician in England can possess without it.

Their labour, honesty, and patriotism gives them weight in politics.


If he was dull as a statesman he was more dull in private life, and it may be imagined that such a woman as his wife would find some difficulty in making his society the source of her happiness. Their marriage, in a point of view regarding business, had been a complete success,--and a success, too, when on the one side, that of Lady Glencora, there had been terrible dangers of shipwreck, and when on his side also there had been some little fears of a mishap.

If he was dull as a statesman he was more dull in private life, and it may be imagined that Lady Glencora would find some difficulty in making his society the source of her happiness., As a business arrangement, their marriage had been a complete success - and a success, too, when on Lady Glencora's side there had been terrible dangers of shipwreck, and on his side also there had been some little fears of a mishap.


As regards her it has been told how near she went to throwing herself, with all her vast wealth, into the arms of a young man, whom no father, no guardian could have regarded as a well-chosen husband for any girl;--one who as yet had shown no good qualities, who had been a spendthrift, unprincipled, and debauched.

It has been told how close Lady Glencora went to throwing herself and her vast wealth into the arms of an unsuitable young man.


It is possible that her love and her wealth might have turned him from evil to good.


But who would have ventured to risk her,--I will not say her and her vast inheritances,--on such a chance?


That evil, however, had been prevented, and those about her had managed to marry her to a young man, very steady by nature, with worldly prospects as brilliant as her own, and with a station than which the world offers nothing higher.


His little threatened mischance,--a passing fancy for a married lady who was too wise to receive vows which were proffered not in the most ardent manner,--had, from special reasons, given some little alarm to his uncle, which had just sufficed at the time to make so very judicious a marriage doubly pleasant to that noble duke, So that all things and all people had conspired to shower substantial comforts on the heads of this couple, when they were joined together, and men and women had not yet ceased to declare how happy were both in the accumulated gifts of fortune.

Mr. Palliser's little threatened mischance - a passing fancy for a married lady who was too wise to receive his vows - had given some alarm to his uncle, enough to make so very judicious a marriage doubly pleasant to that noble duke.


And as regards Mr. Palliser, I think that his married life, and the wife, whom he certainly had not chosen, but who had dropped upon him, suited him admirably.

And as regards Mr. Palliser, I think that his married life, and the wife whom he had not chosen, but who had dropped upon him, suited him admirably.


He wanted great wealth for that position at which he aimed.

He needed great wealth for that position at which he aimed.


He had been rich before his marriage with his own wealth,--so rich that he could throw thousands away if he wished it; but for him and his career was needed that colossal wealth which would make men talk about it,--which would necessitate an expansive expenditure, reaching far and wide, doing nothing, or less than nothing, for his own personal comfort, but giving to him at once that rock-like solidity which is so necessary to our great aristocratic politicians.

He had been rich before his marriage; but for his career he needed that colossal wealth which would give him the rock-like solidity which is so necessary to our great aristocratic politicians.


And his wife was, as far as he knew, all that he desired.


He had not dabbled much in the fountains of Venus, though he had forgotten himself once, and sinned in coveting another man's wife.

He had not dabbled much in love, though he had forgotten himself once, and sinned in coveting another man's wife.


But his sin then had hardly polluted his natural character, and his desire had been of a kind which was almost more gratified in its disappointment than it would have been in its fruition.

But his desire had been of a kind which was almost thankful for its disappointment.


On the morning after the lady had frowned on him he had told himself that he was very well out of that trouble.

After the lady had frowned on him he had told himself that he was very well out of that trouble.


He knew that it would never be for him to hang up on the walls of a temple a well-worn lute as a votive offering when leaving the pursuits of love.


_Idoneus puellis_ he never could have been.


So he married Lady Glencora and was satisfied.


The story of Burgo Fitzgerald was told to him, and he supposed that most girls had some such story to tell.


He thought little about it, and by no means understood her when she said to him, with all the impressiveness which she could throw into the words, "You must know that I have really loved him."

He thought little about it, and did not understood her when she said to him, as impressively as she could, "You must know that I really loved him."


"You must love me now," he had replied with a smile; and then as regarded his mind, the thing was over.

"You must love me now," he had replied with a smile; and then he forgot about it.


And since his marriage he had thought that things matrimonial had gone well with him, and with her too.

Since his marriage he had thought that things matrimonial had gone well with him, and with her too.


He gave her almost unlimited power of enjoying her money, and interfered but little in her way of life.

He gave her almost unlimited power of enjoying her money, and interfered little in her way of life.


Sometimes he would say a word of caution to her with reference to those childish ways which hardly became the dull dignity of his position; and his words then would have in them something of unintentional severity,--whether instigated or not by the red-haired Radical Member of Parliament, I will not pretend to say;--but on the whole he was contented and loved his wife, as he thought, very heartily, and at least better than he loved any one else.

Sometimes he would say a word of caution to her about her childish ways; and his words would hold some unintentional severity - whether instigated or not by the red-haired Member of Parliament, I will not say - but on the whole he was contented and loved his wife, as he thought, very heartily, and at least better than he loved anyone else.


One cause of unhappiness, or rather one doubt as to his entire good fortune, was beginning to make itself felt, as his wife had to her sorrow already discovered. He had hoped that before this he might have heard that she would give him a child.

One cause of care was beginning to make itself felt: he had hoped that his wife might soon give him a child.


But the days were young yet for that trouble, and the care had not become a sorrow.

But the days were young, and the care had not become a sorrow.


But this judicious arrangement as to properties, this well-ordered alliance between families, had not perhaps suited her as well as it had suited him.

But this well-ordered alliance had not perhaps suited her as well as it had suited him.


I think that she might have learned to forget her early lover, or to look back upon it with a soft melancholy hardly amounting to regret, had her new lord been more tender in his ways with her.

She might have learned to forget her early lover if her new lord had been more tender.


I do not know that Lady Glencora's heart was made of that stern stuff which refuses to change its impressions; but it was a heart, and it required food.


To love and fondle someone,--to be loved and fondled, were absolutely necessary to her happiness.

To love and caress someone, to be loved and caressed, were absolutely necessary to her happiness.


She wanted the little daily assurance of her supremacy in the man's feelings, the constant touch of love, half accidental half contrived, the passing glance of the eye telling perhaps of some little joke understood only between them two rather than of love, the softness of an occasional kiss given here and there when chance might bring them together, some half-pretended interest in her little doings, a nod, a wink, a shake of the head, or even a pout.

She wanted the little daily assurance of her supremacy in the man's feelings, the constant touch of love, the passing glance of the eye telling perhaps of some little private joke, the softness of an occasional chance kiss, some half-pretended interest in her little doings.


It should have been given to her to feed upon such food as this daily, and then she would have forgotten Burgo Fitzgerald.

Such food should have been given to her daily, and then she would have forgotten Burgo Fitzgerald.


But Mr. Palliser understood none of these things; and therefore the image of Burgo Fitzgerald in all his beauty was ever before her eyes.

But Mr. Palliser understood none of these things; and therefore the image of Burgo Fitzgerald was always before her eyes.


But not the less was Mr. Palliser a prosperous man, as to the success of whose career few who knew him had much doubt.


It might be written in the book of his destiny that he would have to pass through some violent domestic trouble, some ruin in the hopes of his home, of a nature to destroy then and for ever the worldly prospects of other men.

Even if Mr. Palliser were to pass through some violent domestic trouble, some ruin in the hopes of his home, it would not destroy him as it would other men.


But he was one who would pass through such violence, should it come upon him, without much scathe.


To lose his influence with his party would be worse to him than to lose his wife, and public disgrace would hit him harder than private dishonour.


And the present was the very moment in which success was, as was said, coming to him.


He had already held laborious office under the Crown, but had never sat in the Cabinet.

He had already held office, but had never sat in the Cabinet.


He had worked much harder than Cabinet Ministers generally work,--but hitherto had worked without any reward that was worth his having.

He had worked much harder than Cabinet Ministers generally work, without much reward.


For the stipend which he had received had been nothing to him,--as the great stipend which he would receive, if his hopes were true, would also be nothing to him.

For the income which he had received had been nothing to him.


To have ascendancy over other men, to be known by his countrymen as one of their real rulers, to have an actual and acknowledged voice in the management of nations,--those were the rewards for which he looked; and now in truth it seemed as though they were coming to him.

To have ascendancy over other men, to be known by his countrymen as one of their real rulers, to have an actual and acknowledged voice in the management of nations - those were the rewards he wished for; and now it seemed as though they were coming to him.


It was all but known that the existing Chancellor of the Exchequer would separate himself from the Government, carrying various others with him, either before or immediately consequent on the meeting of Parliament;--and it was all but known, also, that Mr. Palliser would fill his place, taking that high office at once, although he had never hitherto sat in that august assembly which men call the Cabinet.

It was known that the existing Chancellor of the Exchequer was about to separate himself from the Government, taking others with him; and it was thought that Mr. Palliser would fill his place.


He could thus afford to put up with the small everyday calamity of having a wife who loved another man better than she loved him.


The presence of the Duke of St. Bungay at Matching was assumed to be a sure sign of Mr. Palliser's coming triumph.


The Duke was a statesman of a very different class, but he also had been eminently successful as an aristocratic pillar of the British Constitutional Republic.

The Duke was a statesman of a very different class, but he also had been eminently successful as an aristocratic pillar of the government.


He was a minister of very many years' standing, being as used to cabinet sittings as other men are to their own armchairs; but he had never been a hard-working man.

He was a minister of very many years' standing; but he had never been a hard-working man.


Though a constant politician, he had ever taken politics easy whether in office or out.


The world had said before now that the Duke might be Premier, only that he would not take the trouble.

The world had said before now that the Duke might be Prime Minister, only he would not take the trouble.


He had been consulted by a very distinguished person,--so the papers had said more than once,--as to the making of Prime Ministers.


His voice in council was esteemed to be very great.


He was regarded as a strong rock of support to the liberal cause, and yet nobody ever knew what he did; nor was there much record of what he said.

He was regarded as a strong rock of support to the liberal cause, and yet nobody ever knew what he did.


The offices which he held, or had held, were generally those to which no very arduous duties were attached.


In severe debates he never took upon himself the brunt of opposition oratory.


What he said in the House was generally short and pleasant,--with some slight, drolling, undercurrent of uninjurious satire running through it.

His speeches in the House were generally short and pleasant, with some slight, droll undercurrent of satire.


But he was a walking miracle of the wisdom of common sense.


He never grew either hot or cold in a cause.


He was never reckless in politics, and never cowardly.

He was never reckless in politics, nor cowardly.


He snubbed no man, and took snubbings from no man.


He was a Knight of the Garter, a Lord Lieutenant of his county, and at sixty-two had his digestion unimpaired and his estate in excellent order.

He was a Knight of the Garter, a Lord Lieutenant of his county, and at sixty-two had good health and his estate in excellent order.


He was a great buyer of pictures, which, perhaps, he did not understand, and a great collector of books which certainly he never read.

He was a great buyer of pictures, which, perhaps, he did not understand, and a great collector of books which he never read.


All the world respected him, and he was a man to whom the respect of all the world was as the breath of his nostrils.


But even he was not without his peacock on the wall, his skeleton in the closet, his thorn in his side; though the peacock did not scream loud, the skeleton was not very terrible in his anatomical arrangement, nor was the thorn likely to fester to a gangrene.

But even he was not without his skeleton in the closet, his thorn in his side; though the skeleton was not very terrible, nor the thorn very dangerous.


The Duke was always in awe about his wife.

The Duke was always uneasy about his wife.


He was ever uneasy about his wife, but it must not be supposed that he feared the machinations of any Burgo Fitzgerald as being destructive of his domestic comfort.

It must not be supposed that he feared any Burgo Fitzgerald would destroy his domestic comfort.


The Duchess was and always had been all that is proper.


Ladies in high rank, when gifted with excelling beauty, have often been made the marks of undeserved calumny;--but no breath of slander had ever touched her name.

No breath of slander had ever touched her name.


I doubt if any man alive had ever had the courage even to wink at her since the Duke had first called her his own.


Nor was she a spendthrift, or a gambler.


She was not fast in her tastes, or given to any pursuit that was objectionable.


She was simply a fool, and as a fool was ever fearing that she was the mark of ridicule.

She was simply a fool, and always fearing that she was the object of ridicule.


In all such miseries she would complain sorrowfully, piteously, and occasionally very angrily, to her dear Duke and protector; till sometimes her dear Duke did not quite know what to do with her or how to protect her.

In such miseries she would complain sorrowfully, and occasionally angrily, to her dear Duke and protector, who did not quite know what to do with her.


It did not suit him, a Knight of the Garter and a Duke of St. Bungay, to beg mercy for that poor wife of his from such a one as Mrs. Conway Sparkes; nor would it be more in his way to lodge a formal complaint against that lady before his host or hostess,--as one boy at school may sometimes do as regards another.

It did not suit him to beg mercy for his poor wife from such a one as Mrs. Conway Sparkes; nor could he lodge a formal complaint with his host.


"If you don't like the people, my dear, we will go away," he said to her late on that evening of which we have spoken.

"If you don't like the people, my dear, we will go away," he said to her late that evening.


"No," she replied, "I do not wish to go away.


I have said that we would stay till December, and Longroyston won't be ready before that.


But I think that something ought to be done to silence that woman."


And the accent came strong upon "something," and then again with terrific violence upon "woman."


The Duke did not know how to silence Mrs. Conway Sparkes.


It was a great principle of his life never to be angry with any one.


How could he get at Mrs. Conway Sparkes?


"I don't think she is worth your attention," said the husband.

"I don't think she is worth your attention," said he.


"That's all very well, Duke," said the wife, "and perhaps she is not.


But I find her in this house, and I don't like to be laughed at.


I think Lady Glencora should make her know her place."


"I don't know about being so very young," said the Duchess, whose ear had perhaps caught some little hint of poor Lady Glencora's almost unintentional mimicry.

"I don't know about that," said the Duchess, who had perhaps heard poor Lady Glencora's almost unintentional mimicry.


Now as appeals of this kind were being made frequently to the Duke, and as he was often driven to say some word, of which he himself hardly approved, to some one in protection of his Duchess, he was aware that the matter was an annoyance, and at times almost wished that her Grace was at--Longroyston.

As appeals of this kind were being made frequently to the Duke, he felt that the matter was an annoyance.


And there was a third politician staying at Matching Priory who had never yet risen to the rank of a statesman, but who had his hopes. This was Mr. Bott, the member for St. Helens, whom Lady Glencora had described as a man who stood about, with red hair,--and perhaps told tales of her to her husband.

And there was a third politician staying at Matching Priory: Mr. Bott, the member for St. Helens, whom Lady Glencora had described as a man who stood about, with red hair, and perhaps told tales of her to her husband.


Mr. Bott was a person who certainly had had some success in life and who had won it for himself. He was not very young, being at this time only just on the right side of fifty. He was now enjoying his second session in Parliament, having been returned as a pledged disciple of the Manchester school. Nor had he apparently been false to his pledges. At St. Helens he was still held to be a good man and true. But they who sat on the same side with him in the House and watched his political manoeuvres, knew that he was striving hard to get his finger into the public pie.

Mr. Bott, at almost fifty, was now enjoying his second session in Parliament; but they who watched his political manuvres in the House knew that he was striving hard to get his finger into the public pie.


He was not a rich man, though he had made calico and had got into Parliament.


And though he claimed to be a thoroughgoing Radical, he was a man who liked to live with aristocrats, and was fond of listening to the whispers of such as the Duke of St. Bungay or Mr. Palliser.

Though he claimed to be a thoroughgoing Radical, he was a man who liked to live with aristocrats.


It was supposed that he did understand something of finance.


He was at any rate great in figures; and as he was possessed of much industry, and was obedient withal, he was a man who might make himself useful to a Chancellor of the Exchequer ambitious of changes.

He was good with figures, industrious and obedient; a man who might make himself useful to a Chancellor of the Exchequer.


There are men who get into such houses as Matching Priory and whose presence there is a mystery to many;--as to whom the ladies of the house never quite understand why they are entertaining such a guest.


"And Mr. Bott is coming," Mr. Palliser had said to his wife.


"He is member for St. Helens," said Mr. Palliser.


"I don't know that you can do anything with him.


He is a man who has a great deal of business, and I dare say he will spend most of his time in the library."


But though a huge pile of letters and papers came to him every morning by post, he unfortunately did not seem to spend much of his time in the library.

A huge pile of letters arrived for Mr. Bott every morning by post, but unfortunately he did not seem to spend much time attending to them.


Perhaps he had not found the clue to that lost apartment.


Twice he went out shooting, but as on the first day he shot the keeper, and on the second very nearly shot the Duke, he gave that up.


Hunting he declined, though much pressed to make an essay in that art by Jeffrey Palliser.


He seemed to spend his time, as Lady Glencora said, in standing about,--except at certain times when he was closeted with Mr. Palliser, and when, it may be presumed, he made himself useful.

He seemed to spend his time, as Lady Glencora said, in standing about - except when he was closeted with Mr. Palliser.


On such days he would be seen at the hour of lunch with fingers much stained with ink, and it was generally supposed that on those occasions he had been counting up taxes and calculating the effect of great financial changes.


He was a tall, wiry, strong man, with a bald head and bristly red beard, which, however, was cut off from his upper and under lip. This was unfortunate, as had he hidden his mouth he would not have been in so marked a degree an ugly man. His upper lip was very long, and his mouth was mean.

He was a tall, wiry, strong man, with a bald head and bristly red beard, which unfortunately did not hide his thin mouth.


But he had found that without the help of a razor to these parts he could not manage his soup to his satisfaction, and preferring cleanliness to beauty had shaved himself accordingly.


"I shouldn't dislike Mr. Bott so much," Lady Glencora said to her husband, "if he didn't rub his hands and smile so often, and seem to be going to say something when he really is not going to say anything."

"I shouldn't dislike Mr. Bott so much," Lady Glencora said to her husband, "if he didn't rub his hands and smile so often, and seem to be going to say something when he is not."


"I don't think you need trouble yourself about him, my dear," Mr. Palliser had answered.

"Don't trouble yourself about him, my dear," Mr. Palliser had answered.


"But when he looks at me in that way, I can't help stopping, as I think he is going to speak; and then he always says, 'Can I do anything for you, Lady Glen-cowrer?'"


She instantly saw that her husband did not like this.


"Don't be angry with me, dear," she said.


"You must admit that he is rather a bore."


"I am not at all angry, Glencora," said the husband; "and if you insist upon it, I will see that he leaves;--and in such case will of course never ask him again.

"I am not at all angry, Glencora," said the husband; "and if you insist upon it, I will see that he leaves; and will of course never ask him again.


But that might be prejudicial to me, as he is a man whom I trust in politics, and who may perhaps be serviceable to me."

But that might be prejudicial to me, as he is a man whom I trust in politics, and who may be useful."


Of course Lady Glencora declared that Mr. Bott might remain as long as he and her husband desired, and of course she mentioned his name no more to Mr. Palliser; but from that time forth she regarded Mr. Bott as an enemy, and felt also that Mr. Bott regarded her in the same light.

Of course Lady Glencora declared that Mr. Bott might remain as long as he desired, and mentioned his name no more. But from that time forth she regarded Mr. Bott as an enemy, and felt that Mr. Bott regarded her in the same light.


When it was known among outside politicians that the Duke of St. Bungay was staying at Matching Priory, outside politicians became more sure than ever that Mr. Palliser would be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer. The old minister and the young minister were of course arranging matters together.

When it was known that the Duke of St. Bungay was staying at Matching Priory, people became more sure than ever that Mr. Palliser would be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, and that the old minister and the young one were arranging matters together.


But I doubt whether Mr. Palliser and the Duke ever spoke on any such topic during the entire visit.

But I doubt whether the two ever spoke on the topic during the entire visit.


Though Mr. Bott was occasionally closeted with Mr. Palliser, the Duke never troubled himself with such closetings.


He went out shooting--on his pony, read his newspaper, wrote his notes, and looked with the eye of a connoisseur over all Mr. Palliser's farming apparatus.

The Duke went out shooting, read his newspaper, and looked with a connoisseur's eye over all Mr. Palliser's farming apparatus.


"You seem to have a good man, I should say," said the Duke.


Yes;--he was a legacy from my uncle when he gave me up the Priory."


Of course he won't make it pay; but he'll make it look as though it did;--which is the next best thing.

"Of course he won't make it pay, but he'll make it look as though it did; which is the next best thing."


I could never get rent out of land that I farmed myself,--never."


"I suppose not," said Mr. Palliser, who did not care much about it.

"I suppose so," said Mr. Palliser, who did not care much about it.


The Duke would have talked to him by the hour together about farming had Mr. Palliser been so minded; but he talked to him very little about politics.

The Duke would have talked to him by the hour together about farming if he could; but he talked very little about politics.


Nor during the whole time of his stay at Matching did the Duke make any other allusion to Mr. Palliser's hopes as regarded the ministry, than that in which he had told Lady Glencora at the dinner-table that her husband's ambition was the highest by which any man could be moved.


But Mr. Bott was sometimes honoured by a few words with the Duke.


"We shall muster pretty strong, your Grace," Mr. Bott had said to him one day before dinner.


"That depends on how the changes go," said the Duke.


"Oh yes; there'll be a change,--certainly, I should say.


"Yes; I should think so;--that is, if it suits him.

"Yes; I should think so, if it suits him.


By-the-by, Mr. Bott--" Then there was a little whispered communication, in which perhaps Mr. Bott was undertaking some commission of that nature which Lady Glencora had called "telling."

By-the-by, Mr. Bott-"
Then there was a little whispered communication, in which perhaps Mr. Bott was undertaking some commission in what Lady Glencora had called "telling."


When Alice heard of her cousin's success, and understood that he was actually Member of Parliament for the Chelsea Districts, she resolved that she would be triumphant.

When Alice heard of her cousin's success, she resolved that she would be triumphant.


She had sacrificed nearly everything to her desire for his success in public life, and now that he had achieved the first great step towards that success, it would have been madness on her part to decline her share in the ovation.

She had sacrificed nearly everything to this aim, and now he had achieved the first great step.


If she could not rejoice in that, what source of joy would then be left for her?

If she could not rejoice in that, what source of joy would be left for her?


She had promised to be his wife, and at present she was under the bonds of that promise.


She had so promised because she had desired to identify her interests with his,--because she wished to share his risks, to assist his struggles, and to aid him in his public career.

She had promised to be his wife because she wished to assist his struggles, and to aid him in his public career.


She had done all this, and he had been successful.


She strove, therefore, to be triumphant on his behalf, but she knew that she was striving ineffectually.

She strove, therefore, to be triumphant, but she knew that she was striving in vain.


She had made a mistake, and the days were coming in which she would have to own to herself that she had done so in sackcloth, and to repent with ashes.

She had made a mistake, and the days were coming in which she would have admit it to herself, and to repent.


The tidings were first brought to her by her servant, and then she at once sat down to write him a word or two of congratulation.

When the news was first brought to her, she sat down at once to write him a word of congratulation.


But she found the task more difficult than she had expected, and she gave it up.

But she found the task more difficult than she had expected, and gave it up.


She had written no word to him since the day on which he had left her almost in anger, and now she did not know how she was to address him.


"I will wait till he comes," she said, putting away from her the paper and pens.


"It will be easier to speak than to write."


But she wrote to Kate, and contrived to put some note of triumph into her letter.

But she wrote to Kate, and managed to put some note of triumph into her letter.


Kate had written to her at length, filling her sheet with a loud pan of sincere rejoicing.

Kate had written to her at length, with sincere rejoicing.


To Kate, down in Westmoreland, it had seemed that her brother had already done everything.

To Kate in Westmorland, it seemed that her brother had already done everything.


He had already tied Fortune to his chariot wheels.


He had made the great leap, and had overcome the only obstacle that Fate had placed in his way.

He had made the great leap, and had overcome the only obstacle that Fate had placed in his way - the lack of money.


In her great joy she almost forgot whence had come the money with which the contest had been won.

In her great joy and enthusiasm she almost forgot where the money had come from.


She was not enthusiastic in many things;--about herself she was never so; but now she was elated with an enthusiasm which seemed to know no bounds.


"I am proud," she said, in her letter to Alice.


"No other thing that he could have done would have made me so proud of him.

"No other thing would have made me so proud of him.


Had the Queen sent for him and made him an earl, it would have been as nothing to this.

If the Queen had made him an earl, it would have been as nothing compared to this.


When I think that he has forced his way into Parliament without any great friend, with nothing to back him but his own wit"--she had, in truth, forgotten Alice's money as she wrote;--"that he has achieved his triumph in the metropolis, among the most wealthy and most fastidious of the richest city in the world, I do feel proud of my brother.

When I think that he has forced his way into Parliament without any great friend, with nothing to back him but his own wit," - she had, in truth, forgotten Alice's money as she wrote - "I do feel proud of my brother.


And, Alice, I hope that you are proud of your lover."


One cannot but like her pride, nay, almost love her for it, though it was so sorely misplaced.


It must be remembered that she had known nothing of Messrs. Grimes and Scruby, and the River Bank, and that the means had been wanting to her of learning the principles upon which some metropolitan elections are conducted.

She knew nothing of Messrs. Grimes and Scruby, and the River Bank, and could not have learnt how elections are conducted.


"And, Alice, I hope that you are proud of your lover!"


"He is not my lover," Alice said to herself.


"He understands that, though she may not."


And if not your lover, Alice Vavasor, what is he then to you?


And what are you to him, if not his love?


She was beginning to understand that she had put herself in the way of utter destruction;--that she had walked to the brink of a precipice, and that she must now topple over it.

She was beginning to understand that she had put herself in the way of utter destruction; that she had walked to the brink of a precipice, and that she must now topple over it.


"He is not my lover," she said; and then she sat silent and moody, and it took her hours to get her answer written to Kate.

She sat silent and moody, and it took her hours to get her answer written to Kate.


On the same afternoon she saw her father for a moment or two.


"So George has got himself returned," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"So George has got himself returned," he said.


He has bought a seat for three months; and with whose money has he purchased it?"

He has bought a seat for three months; and with whose two thousand pounds?"


"Don't let us always speak of money, papa."


"When you discuss the value of a thing just purchased, you must mention the price before you know whether the purchaser has done well or badly.


They have let him in for his money because there are only a few months left before the general election.


Two thousand pounds he has had, I believe?"


"And if as much more is wanted for the next election he shall have it."

If as much is wanted for the next election he shall have it."


"Very well, my dear;--very well, If you choose to make a beggar of yourself, I cannot help it.

"Very well, my dear. If you choose to make a beggar of yourself, I cannot help it.


Indeed, I shall not complain though he should spend all your money, if you do not marry him at last."

Indeed, I shall not complain about him spending all your money, if you do not marry him at last."


On that point her father's wishes were fast growing to be identical with her own.


"I tell you fairly what are my feelings and my wishes," he continued.

"I tell you what I think," he continued.


"Nothing, in my opinion, would be so deplorable and ruinous as such a marriage.


You tell me that you have made up your mind to take him, and I know well that nothing that I can say will turn you.

You tell me that you have made up your mind to take him, and I know that nothing that I can say will turn you.


But I believe that when he has spent all your money he will not take you, and that thus you will be saved.

But I believe that when he has spent all your money he will not take you after all.


Thinking as I do about him, you can hardly expect that I should triumph because he has got himself into Parliament with your money!"

You can hardly expect that I should triumph because he has got himself into Parliament with your money!"


Then he left her, and it seemed to Alice that he had been very cruel.

When he left, it seemed to Alice that he had been very cruel.


There had been little, she thought, nay, nothing of a father's loving tenderness in his words to her. If he had spoken to her differently, might she not even now have confessed everything to him? But herein Alice accused him wrongfully. Tenderness from him on this subject had, we may say, become impossible. She had made it impossible.

There had been nothing of a father's loving tenderness in his words - although Alice herself had made tenderness on this subject impossible.


Nor could he tell her the extent of his wishes without damaging his own cause.


He could not let her know that all that was done was so done with the view of driving her into John Grey's arms.


But what words were those for a father to speak to a daughter!


Had she brought herself to such a state that her own father desired to see her deserted and thrown aside?


And was it probable that this wish of his should come to pass?


As to that, Alice had already made up her mind.


She thought that she had made up her mind that she would never become her cousin's wife.


It needed not her father's wish to accomplish her salvation, if her salvation lay in being separated from him.


The reader will, perhaps, remember their last interview. He had come to her after her letter to him from Westmoreland, and had asked her to seal their reconciliation with a kiss; but she had refused him.

The reader will, perhaps, remember their last interview, when he had asked for a kiss; but she had refused him.


He had offered to embrace her, and she had shuddered before him, fearing his touch, telling him by signs much more clear than any words, that she felt for him none of the love of a woman.

She had shuddered, showing him more clearly than any words that she felt none of the love of a woman for him.


Then he had turned from her in anger, declaring to her honestly that he was angry. Since that he had borrowed her money,--had made two separate assaults upon her purse,--and was now come to tell her of the results.

He had turned from her in anger; and since then, he had borrowed her money twice.


I beg that it may be also remembered that he was not a man to forget the treatment he had received.

He was not a man to forget the treatment he had received.


When he entered the room, Alice looked at him, at first, almost furtively.

When he entered the room, Alice looked at him almost furtively.


It must be confessed that she already feared him.


Had there been in the man anything of lofty principle he might still have made her his slave, though I doubt whether he could ever again have forced her to love him.


She looked at him furtively, and perceived that the gash on his face was nearly closed. The mark of existing anger was not there.

But she perceived that the gash on his face was nearly closed; the mark of anger was not there.


He had come to her intending to be gentle, if it might be possible.

He had come to her intending to be gentle, if possible.


He had been careful in his dress, as though he wished to try once again if the rle of lover might be within his reach.


"George, I am so glad that you have succeeded!" she said.


But before I say another word, let me acknowledge my debt.


Unless you had aided me with your money, I could not have succeeded."


"Let me rather speak of it at once, and have done.


If you will think of it, you will know that I must speak of it sooner or later."

You know that I must speak of it sooner or later."


He smiled and looked pleasant, as he used to do in those Swiss days.


"I hope you have trusted me in thus giving me the command of your fortune?"

"I hope you have trusted me in giving me the command of your fortune?"


I need hardly say that I could not have stood for this last election without it; and I must try to make you understand that if I had not come forward at this vacancy, I should have stood no chance for the next; otherwise, I should not have been justified in paying so dearly for a seat for one session.

I could not have stood for this last election without it; and if I had not come forward at this vacancy, I should have stood no chance for the next.


"Anybody, even your father, would tell you that; though, probably, he regards my ambition to be a Member of Parliament as a sign of downright madness.

"Even your father would tell you that; though he probably regards my ambition to be a Member of Parliament as a sign of downright madness.


But I was obliged to stand now, if I intended to go on with it, as that old lord died so inopportunely. Well, about the money!


It is quite upon the cards that I may be forced to ask for another loan when the autumn comes."

It is quite possible that I may be forced to ask for another loan when the autumn comes."


You know that I have been reconciled,--with a sort of reconciliation,--to my grandfather?

You know that I have been reconciled - in a way - with my grandfather?


Well, when the next affair is over, I propose to tell him exactly how you and I then stand."

Well, when the next election is over, I wish to tell him exactly how you and I stand."


It is enough for you at present to be assured that such assistance as I can give you is at your command.

Simply be assured that I will help you all I can.


I want you to feel the full joy of your success, and you will do so more thoroughly if you will banish all these money troubles from your mind for a while."

I want you to feel the full joy of your success, and you will do so more thoroughly if you will banish money troubles from your mind for a while."


"They shall, at any rate, be banished while I am with you," said he.


And he lifted up his right hand, and blew at the tips of his fingers.


"It is always well to be rid of such troubles for a time."


It is well to be rid of them at any time, or at all times, if only they can be banished without danger.


But when a man has overused his liver till it will not act for him any longer, it is not well for him to resolve that he will forget the weakness of his organ just as he sits down to dinner.


It was a pretty bit of acting, that of Vavasor's, when he blew away his cares; and, upon the whole, I do not know that he could have done better.

It was a pretty bit of acting; and, upon the whole, I do not know that he could have done better.


But Alice saw through it, and he knew that she did so.


The whole thing was uncomfortable to him, except the fact that he had the promise of her further moneys.

The whole thing was uncomfortable to him, except the fact that he had the promise of her further money.


But he did not intend to rest satisfied with this.


He must extract from her some meed of approbation, some show of sympathy, some spark of affection, true or pretended, in order that he might at least affect to be satisfied, and be enabled to speak of the future without open embarrassment.

He must extract from her some show of sympathy or approval, some spark of affection, true or pretended, so that he might speak of the future without open embarrassment.


How could even he take her money from her, unless he might presume that he stood with her upon some ground that belonged mutually to them both?


"I have already taken my seat," said he.


My acquaintance among Members of Parliament is very small, but I see that you were introduced, as they call it, by one of the few men that I do know.

My acquaintance among Members of Parliament is very small, but I see that you were introduced by one of the few men that I do know.


I may probably have to act with him in public."


"Ah, that's just what they said of Mr. Palliser when they felt ashamed of his having such a man as his guest.

"Ah, that's just what they said about Mr. Palliser when they felt ashamed of his having him as his guest.


I think if I were in public life I should try to act with people that I could like."


"I do not like him, but my feelings about him are not violent."


"He is a vulgar ass," said George, "with no more pretensions to rank himself a gentleman than your footman."

"He is a vulgar ass," said George, "with no more pretensions to rank himself a gentleman than a footman.


"But he will get on in Parliament, to a certain extent."


"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what are the requisites for Parliamentary success, or indeed of what it consists.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what Parliamentary success requires.


Is his ambition, do you suppose, the same as yours?"


"His ambition, I take it, does not go beyond a desire to be Parliamentary flunkey to a big man,--with wages, if possible, but without, if the wages are impossible."

"His ambition, I think, does not go beyond a desire to be Parliamentary flunkey to a big man - with wages, if possible."


"Oh, as to mine;--there are some things, Alice, that a man does not tell to any one."

"There are some things, Alice, that a man does not tell to anyone."


"The schoolboy, when he sits down to make his rhymes, dares not say, even to his sister, that he hopes to rival Milton; but he nurses such a hope.


The preacher, when he preaches his sermon, does not whisper, even to his wife, his belief that thousands may perhaps be turned to repentance by the strength of his words; but he thinks that the thousand converts are possible."

The preacher, when he preaches his sermon, does not whisper, even to his wife, his belief that thousands may be turned to repentance by his words; but he thinks that it is possible."


"And you, though you will not say so, intend to rival Chatham, and to make your thousand converts in politics."

"And you intend to make your thousand converts in politics."


"I like to hear you laugh at me,--I do, indeed.


It does me good to hear your voice again with some touch of satire in it.


It brings back the old days,--the days to which I hope we may soon revert without pain.

It brings back the old days - the days to which I hope we may soon revert without pain.


Her playful manner at once deserted her.


Why had he made this foolish attempt to be tender?


For a few minutes he sat silent, fingering some article belonging to her which was lying on the table. It was a small steel paper-knife, of which the handle was cast and gilt; a thing of no great value, of which the price may have been five shillings.

For a few minutes he sat silent, fingering a small steel paper-knife, of no great value, which was lying on the table.


He sat with it, passing it through his fingers, while she went on with her work.

He sat with it, passing it through his fingers, while she went on with her needlework.


"Goodness me, why do you ask? and especially, why do you ask in that way?"

"Goodness me, why do you ask in that way?"


"I asked simply because if it is a present to you from any one, I will take up something else."


He let it drop from his fingers on to the table with a noise, and then pushed it from him, so that it fell on the other side, near to where she sat.

He let it drop from his fingers on to the table with a noise, and then pushed it away, so that it fell off the other side.


"George," she said, as she stooped and picked it up, "your violence is unreasonable; pray do not repeat it."

"George," she said, as she stooped and picked it up, "your violence is unreasonable."


"I did not mean it," he said, "and I beg your pardon.


I was simply unfortunate in the article I selected.


In saying which he took up a little ivory foot-rule that was folded up so as to bring it within the compass of three inches.

He picked up a little folding ivory ruler.


"It so happens that no one gave me that; I bought it at a stupid bazaar."

"No one gave me that; I bought it at a stupid bazaar."


You shall give it me as a present, on the renewal of our love."


"It is too poor a thing to give," said she, speaking still more gloomily than she had done before.

"It is too poor a thing to give," said she, more gloomily than before.


"By no means; nothing is too poor, if given in that way.


Anything will do; a ribbon, a glove, a broken sixpence.


Will you give me something that I may take, and, taking it, may know that your heart is given with it?"

Will you give me something that I may take, and know that your heart is given with it?"


"Take the rule, if you please," she said.

"Take the ruler, if you please," she said.


He should have been more of a rascal or less.

He should have been either more of a rascal, or less.


Seeing how very much of a rascal he was already, I think it would have been better that he should have been more,--that he should have been able to content his spirit with the simple acquisition of her money, and that he should have been free from all those remains of a finer feeling which made him desire her love also.

He should have been content with simply acquiring her money.


It was necessary for his comfort that she should, at any rate, say she loved him.

But it was necessary for his comfort that she should say she loved him.


"Well, Alice, and what about the heart?"


"I would so much rather talk about politics, George," said she.

"I would much rather talk about politics, George," said she.


The cicatrice began to make itself very visible in his face, and the debonair manner was fast vanishing.

The scar began to make itself very visible in his face, and the debonair manner was fast vanishing.


He had fixed his eyes upon her, and had inserted his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat.

He had fixed his eyes upon her, and inserted his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat.


"Alice, that is not quite fair," he said.


You have told me that you intend to become my wife.


If, after that, you wilfully make me miserable, will not that be unfair?"


"I am not making you miserable,--certainly not wilfully."

"I am not making you miserable, certainly not wilfully."


"Did that letter which you wrote to me from Westmoreland mean anything?"

"Did that letter which you wrote to me from Westmorland mean anything?"


"George, do not strive to make me think that it meant too much."


"If it did, you had better say so at once."


But Alice, though she would have said so had she dared, made no answer to this.


She sat silent, turning her face away from his gaze, longing that the meeting might be over, and feeling that she had lost her own self-respect.

Alice sat silent, turning her face away, longing that the meeting might be over, and feeling that she had lost her own self-respect.


"Look here, Alice," he said, "I find it very hard to understand you.


When I look back over all that has passed between us, and to that other episode in your life, summing it all up with your conduct to me at present, I find myself at a loss to read your character."

When I look back over all that has passed between us, and to that other episode in your life, compared to your conduct to me now, I find myself at a loss."


"I fear I cannot help you in the reading of it."


"When you first loved me;--for you did love me.


There is no young man who in early life does not read with sufficient clearness that sweetest morsel of poetry.--And when you quarrelled with me, judging somewhat harshly of my offences, I understood that also; for it is the custom of women to be hard in their judgement on such sins.

"When you first loved me - for you did love me; I understood that well enough - and when you quarrelled with me, judging my offences somewhat harshly, I understood that also; for it is the custom of women to be hard in their judgement on such sins.


When I heard that you had accepted the offer made to you by that gentleman in Cambridgeshire, I thought that I understood you still,--knowing how natural it was that you should seek some cure for your wound.

When I heard that you had accepted the offer made to you by that gentleman in Cambridgeshire, I thought it was natural that you should seek some cure for your wound.


I understood it, and accused myself, not you, in that I had driven you to so fatal a remedy."


Here Alice turned round towards him sharply, as though she were going to interrupt him, but she said nothing, though he paused for her to speak; and then he went on.

Here Alice turned round towards him sharply, as though she were going to interrupt him, but she said nothing.
He went on.


"And I understood it well when I heard that this cure had been too much for you.


I meant no insult to the man when I upset his little toy just now.


For many women he would make a model husband, but you are not one of them.


And when you discovered this yourself, as you did, I understood that without difficulty.


if ever woman had been driven to a mistake, you had been driven to one there."


Here she looked at him again, and met his eyes. She looked at him with something of his own fierceness in her face, as though she were preparing herself to fight with him; but she said nothing at the moment, and then he again went on.

Here she met his eyes with something of his own fierceness in her face, as though she were preparing to fight with him; but she still said nothing, and he again went on.


"And, Alice, I understood it also when you again consented to be my wife. I thought that I still understood you then.

"And, Alice, when you again consented to be my wife, I thought that I still understood you.


I may have been vain to think so, but surely it was natural.


I believed that the old love had come back upon you, and again warmed your heart.

I believed that the old love had come back to you, and warmed your heart.


I thought that it had been cold during our separation, and I was pleased to think so.


Put yourself in my place, and say if you would not have thought so.


I told myself that I understood you then, and I told myself that in all that you had done you had acted as a true, and good, and loving woman.

I told myself that you had acted as a true, and good, and loving woman.


I thought of you much, and I saw that your conduct, as a whole, was intelligible and becoming."


The last word grated on Alice's ears, and she showed her anger by the motion of her foot upon the floor.

The last word grated on Alice's ears, and she showed her anger by tapping her foot upon the floor.


Her cousin noted it all, but went on as though he had not noted it.

Her cousin noticed it, but went on as though he had not.


"But now your present behaviour makes all the rest a riddle.


You have said that you would be my wife, declaring thereby that you had forgiven my offences, and, as I suppose, reassuring me of your love; and yet you receive me with all imaginable coldness.

You have said that you would be my wife, and yet you receive me with coldness.


What am I to think of it, and in what way would you have me behave to you?

What am I to think? How would you have me behave to you?


When last I was here I asked you for a kiss."

When I was last here I asked you for a kiss."


As he said this he looked at her with all his eyes, with his mouth just open, so as to show the edges of his white teeth, with the wound down his face all wide and purple.

He said this with the wound down his face all wide and purple.


The last word came with a stigmatizing hiss from his lips.


Though she did not essay to speak, he paused again, as if he were desirous that she might realize the full purport of such a request.


I think that, in the energy of his speaking, a touch of true passion had come upon him; that he had forgotten his rascaldom, and his need of her money, and that he was punishing her with his whole power of his vengeance for the treatment which he had received from her.

I think that, in speaking, a touch of true passion had come upon him; that he had forgotten his rascaldom, and his need of her money, and his wish to punish her.


If you are to be my wife you can have no shame in granting me such a request.

If you are to be my wife you can have no shame in granting me one.


Within the last two months you have told me that you would marry me.


What am I to think of such a promise if you deny me all customary signs of your affection?"


Then he paused again, and she found that the time had come in which she must say something to him.

Then he paused again, and she found that she must say something.


[Illustration: "I asked you for a kiss."]


"I wonder you cannot understand," she said, "that I have suffered much."


"Come, Alice, do not be untrue; you do know what answer I want, and you know also whether my wanting it is unreasonable."

"Come, Alice; you do know what answer I want.


"No one ever told me that I was untrue before," she said.


I desire to learn that the woman who is to be my wife, in truth, loves me."

I desire to learn that the woman who is to be my wife loves me."


She was standing up, and so was he also, but still she said nothing.


He had in his hand the little rule which she had told him that he might take, but he held it as though in doubt what he would do with it.

He held the little ruler as though in doubt what he would do with it.


"Well, Alice, am I to hear anything from you?"


"Not now, George; you are angry, and I will not speak to you in your anger."


Do you not know that you are treating me badly?"


"I know that my head aches, and that I am very wretched.


"There, then, is your gift," said he, and he threw the rule over on to the sofa behind her.

"There, then, is your gift," said he, and he threw the ruler on to the sofa behind her.


"And there is the trumpery trinket which I had hoped you would have worn for my sake."


Whereupon something which he had taken from his waistcoat-pocket was thrown violently into the fender, beneath the fire-grate.

Something which he had taken from his waistcoat-pocket was thrown violently into the fender, beneath the fire-grate.


He then walked with quick steps to the door; but when his hand was on the handle, he turned.

He then walked quickly to the door; but when his hand was on the handle, he turned.


"Alice," he said, "when I am gone, try to think honestly of your conduct to me."