She often told herself, as she had told Alice, that it would be better for them all that she should go away; that in throwing herself even to the dogs, if such must be the result, she would do more of good than of harm.

She often told herself, as she had told Alice, that it would be better for them all that she should go away.


She declared to herself, in the most passionate words she could use, that she loved this man with all her heart.

She declared to herself that she loved Burgo with all her heart.


She protested that the fault would not be hers, but theirs, who had forced her to marry the man she did not love.


She assured herself that her husband had no affection for her, and that their marriage was in every respect prejudicial to him.

She assured herself that her husband had no affection for her, and that their marriage was damaging to him.


She recurred over and over again, in her thoughts, to her own childlessness, and to his extreme desire for an heir.


"Though I do sacrifice myself," she would say, "I shall do more of good than harm, and I cannot be more wretched than I am now."

"If I do sacrifice myself," she would say, "I shall do more good than harm, and I cannot be more wretched than I am now."


But yet she fled to London because she feared to leave herself at Matching when Burgo Fitzgerald should be there.

Yet she fled to London rather than risk having Burgo Fitzgerald near.


She made no preparation for going with him.


She longed to see Alice, to whom alone, since her marriage, had she ever spoken of her love, and intended to tell her the whole tale of that letter.

She longed to see Alice and to tell her about that letter.


She was as one who, in madness, was resolute to throw herself from a precipice, but to whom some remnant of sanity remained which forced her to seek those who would save her from herself.

She was like one who, in madness, was resolved to throw herself from a precipice, but to whom some remnant of sanity remained which forced her to seek those who would save her from herself.


Mr. Palliser had not seen her since her arrival in London, and, of course, he took her by the hand and kissed her.

Mr. Palliser had not seen her since her arrival in London, and of course, he took her by the hand and kissed her.


But it was the embrace of a brother rather than of a lover or a husband.

But it was the embrace of a brother rather than a lover or a husband.


Lady Glencora, with her full woman's nature, understood this thoroughly, and appreciated by instinct the true bearing of every touch from his hand.

Lady Glencora understood this thoroughly.


A little fatigued with your journey, I suppose?"


"Well, we have had a debate on the Address.


Don't you want to know how it has gone?"


"If it has concerned you particularly, I do, of course."


"They haven't appointed you yet; have they?"

"They haven't appointed you yet, have they?"


"No; they don't appoint people during debates, in the House of Commons.

"No; they don't appoint people during debates in the House of Commons.


But I fear I shall never make you a politician."


But I'm not the less anxious for your success, since you wish it yourself.


I don't understand why you should work so very hard; but, as you like it, I'm as anxious as anybody can be that you should triumph."


"A man must like something, and I don't know what there is to like better.


Some people can eat and drink all day; and some people can care about a horse.


And there were others, Lady Glencora thought, who could love to lie in the sun, and could look up into the eyes of women, and seek their happiness there.


She was sure, at any rate, that she knew one such.


"I spoke for a moment to Lord Brock," said Mr. Palliser.


Lord Brock was the name by which the present Jove of the Treasury was known among men.


"He didn't say much, but he was very cordial."


"But I thought, Plantagenet, that he could appoint you if he pleased?


But I don't suppose I shall ever make you understand."


He endeavoured, however, to do so on the present occasion, and gave her a somewhat longer lecture on the working of the British Constitution, and the manner in which British politics evolved themselves, than would have been expected from most young husbands to their young wives under similar circumstances.

He tried, however, to do so, and gave her a somewhat longer lecture on the working of the British Constitution than would have been expected from most young husbands to their young wives.


Lady Glencora yawned, and strove lustily, but ineffectually, to hide her yawn in her handkerchief.

Lady Glencora yawned, and tried to hide her yawn in her handkerchief.


"But I see you don't care a bit about it," said he, peevishly.


Indeed I do care about it, but I am so ignorant that I can't understand it all at once.


I am rather tired, and I think I'll go to bed now.


"No, not very; that is, I shall be rather late.


I've a lot of letters I want to write to-night, as I must be at work all to-morrow. By-the-by, Mr. Bott is coming to dine here.

I've a lot of letters I want to write tonight, By-the-by, Mr. Bott is coming to dine tomorrow."


The next day was a Wednesday, and the House would not sit in the evening.


said Lady Glencora, showing by her voice that she anticipated no pleasure from that gentleman's company.


Why shouldn't you eat your dinner with us?


I hope you are not going to become fastidious, and to turn up your nose at people.


Mrs. Marsham is in town, and I dare say she'll come to you if you ask her."

Mrs. Marsham is in town, and I dare say she'll come if you ask her."


But this was too much for Lady Glencora.


She was disposed to be mild, but she could not endure to have her two duennas thus brought upon her together on the first day of her arrival in London.

She could not endure to have her two duennas together on the first day of her arrival in London.


And Mrs. Marsham would be worse than Mr. Bott. Mr. Bott would be engaged with Mr. Palliser during the greater part of the evening.

And Mrs. Marsham would be worse than Mr. Bott, who would be talking to Mr. Palliser most of the evening.


"I thought," said she, "of asking my cousin, Alice Vavasor, to spend the evening with me."


"I must say that I thought Miss Vavasor--" He was going to make some allusion to that unfortunate hour spent among the ruins, but he stopped himself.

"I must say that I thought Miss Vavasor-" He was going to allude to that unfortunate hour spent among the ruins, but he stopped himself.


"I hope you have nothing to say against my cousin?"


"She is my only near relative that I really care for;--the only woman, I mean."


"No; I don't mean to say anything against her.


She's very well as a young lady, I dare say.


I would sooner that you would ask Mrs. Marsham to-morrow."

But I would rather that you would ask Mrs. Marsham tomorrow."


Lady Glencora was standing, waiting to go away to her own room, but it was absolutely necessary that this matter should be decided before she went.


She felt that he was hard to her, and unreasonable, and that he was treating her like a child who should not be allowed her own way in anything.

Lady Glencora felt that he was hard on her, and unreasonable, and that he was treating her like a child who should not be allowed her own way in anything.


She had endeavoured to please him, and, having failed, was not now disposed to give way.

She had tried to please him, and, having failed, was not now disposed to give way.


"As there will be no other ladies here to-morrow evening, Plantagenet, and as I have not yet seen Alice since I have been in town, I wish you would let me have my way in this.

"As there will be no other ladies here tomorrow evening, Plantagenet, and as I have not yet seen Alice since I have been in town, I wish you would let me have my way in this.


Of course I cannot have very much to say to Mrs. Marsham, who is an old woman."


"I especially want Mrs. Marsham to be your friend," said he.


"Friendships will not come by ordering, Plantagenet," said she.


[Illustration: "Friendships will not come by ordering," said Lady Glencora.]


I am sorry that you have refused the first favour I have asked you this year."


Then he left the room, and she went away to bed.


The second week in July saw Mr. Palliser's party, carriage and all, established at Lucerne, in Switzerland, safe beyond the reach of the German gambling tables.

The second week in July saw Mr. Palliser's party established at Lucerne, in Switzerland, safe beyond the reach of the German gambling tables.


Alice Vavasor was still with them; and the reader will therefore understand that that quarrel about Lady Glencora's wickedness had been settled without any rupture.

Alice Vavasor was still with them; for the quarrel about Lady Glencora's wickedness had been settled amicably.


It had been settled amicably, and by the time that they had reached Lucerne, Alice was inclined to acknowledge that the whole thing was not worth notice; but for many days her anger against Mr. Palliser had not been removed, and her intimacy with him had been much checked.

However, for many days Alice's anger against Mr. Palliser had not been removed, and her intimacy with him had been much checked.


It was now a month since the occurrence of that little scene in the salon at Baden, which was described in the last chapter,--since Mr. Palliser had marched off with his wife, leaving Alice to follow as she best could by herself.

It was now a month since that little scene in the salon at Baden, which was described in the last chapter.


After that, as the reader may remember, he had almost told her that she was to be blamed because of his wife's indiscretion; and when she had declared her intention of leaving him, and making her way home to England by herself, he had answered her not at all, and had allowed her to go off to her own room under the full ban of his displeasure.


Since that he had made no apology to her; he had not, in so many words, acknowledged that he had wronged her; but Alice had become aware that he intended to apologize by his conduct, and she had been content so far to indulge his obstinacy as to accept this conduct on his part in lieu of any outspoken petition for pardon.

Mr. Palliser had made no apology to her; but Alice had become aware that he intended to apologize by his conduct, and she had been content to accept this conduct in lieu of any spoken request for pardon.


The acknowledgement of a mistake and the asking for grace is almost too much for any woman to expect from such a man as Mr. Palliser.

The acknowledgement of a mistake and the asking for forgiveness is almost too much for any woman to expect from such a man as Mr. Palliser.


Early on the morning after the scene in question, Lady Glencora had gone into Alice's bedroom, and had found her cousin in her dressing-gown, packing up her things, or looking as though she intended to do so.

Early on the morning after the scene in question, Lady Glencora had gone into Alice's bedroom, and had found her cousin packing up her things.


"You are not such a fool," she said, "as to think anything of what occurred yesterday?"

"You are not such a fool," she said, "as to think anything of what happened yesterday?"


Alice assured her that, whether fool or not, she did think a great deal of it.


"In point of fact," said Alice, "I can't stand it.


He expects me to take care of you, and chooses to show himself offended if you don't do just what he thinks proper; whereas, as you know well enough, I have not the slightest influence over you."

He expects me to take care of you, and is offended if you don't do just what he thinks proper; while, as you know well enough, I have not the slightest influence over you."


All these positions Lady Glencora contradicted vigorously.

Lady Glencora contradicted this vigorously.


Of course, Mr. Palliser had been wrong in walking out of the Assembly Rooms as he had done, leaving Alice behind him. So much Lady Glencora admitted. But this had come of his intense anxiety.


"And you know what a man he is," said his wife--"how stiff, and hard, and unpleasant he can be without meaning it."

"And you how know how stiff, and hard, and unpleasant he can be without meaning it," said his wife.


--"There is no reason why I should bear his unpleasantness," said Alice.


"Yes, there is,--great reason. You are to do it for the sake of friendship.


And as for my not doing what you tell me, you know that's not true."


"Did I not beg you to keep away from the table?"


"Of course you did, and of course I was naughty; but that was only once.


Alice, I want you more than I ever wanted you before.


I cannot tell you more now, but you must stay with me."


Alice consented to come down to breakfast without any immediate continuance of her active preparations for going, and at last, of course, she stayed.

Alice consented to come down to breakfast without continuing her packing, and at last, of course, she stayed.


When she entered the breakfast-room Mr. Palliser came up to her, and offered her his hand.

When she entered the breakfast-room Mr. Palliser came up and offered her his hand.


She had no alternative but to take it, and then seated herself.


That there was an intended apology in the manner in which he offered her toast and butter, she was convinced; and the special courtesy with which he handed her to the carriage, when she and Lady Glencora went out for their drive, after dinner, was almost as good as a petition for pardon.

There was an intended apology in the manner in which he offered her toast and butter; and he treated her with special courtesy when he handed her to the carriage for their drive.


So the thing went on, and by degrees Mr. Palliser and Miss Vavasor were again friends.

So by degrees Mr. Palliser and Miss Vavasor were again friends.


But Alice never knew in what way the matter was settled between Mr. Palliser and his wife, or whether there was any such settling.

But Alice never knew how the matter was settled between Mr. Palliser and his wife, or whether there was any such settling.


"Of course, he understands that it didn't mean anything," Lady Glencora had said. "He knows that I don't want to gamble."

"Of course, he knows that I don't want to gamble," Lady Glencora had said.


But let that be as it might, their sojourn at Baden was curtailed, and none of the party went up again to the Assembly Rooms before their departure.

All the same, none of them went to the Assembly Rooms again before their departure.


Before establishing themselves at Lucerne they made a little tour round by the Falls of the Rhine and Zurich.

Before establishing themselves at Lucerne they made a little tour by the Falls of the Rhine and Zurich.


In their preparations for this journey, Alice made a struggle, but a struggle in vain, to avoid a passage through Basle.

Alice had made a struggle, but in vain, to avoid a passage through Basle.


It was only too clear to her that Mr. Palliser was determined to go by Basle. She could not bring herself to say that she had recollections connected with that place which would make a return to it unpleasant to her.

It was clear that Mr. Palliser was determined to go by Basle, and she could not bring herself to say that she had unpleasant memories connected with that place.


If she could have said as much, even to Glencora, Mr. Palliser would no doubt have gone round,--round by any more distant route that might have been necessary to avoid that eternal gateway into Switzerland.


She was very averse to talking about herself and her own affairs, even with her cousin.


Of course Lady Glencora knew the whole story of Mr. John Grey and his rejection,--and knew much also of that other story of Mr. George Vavasor.

Of course Lady Glencora knew the whole story of Mr. John Grey and George Vavasor.


And, of course, like all Alice's friends, she hated George Vavasor, and was prepared to receive Mr. John Grey with open arms, if there were any possibility that her cousin would open her arms to him also.


But Alice was so stubborn about her own affairs that her friend found it almost impossible to speak of them.


"It is not that you trouble me," Alice once said, "but that you trouble yourself about that which is of no use. It is all done and over; and though I know that I have behaved badly,--very badly,--yet I believe that everything has been done for the best.

"It is all over and done," Alice once said; "and though I know that I have behaved badly, yet I believe everything has been for the best.


I am inclined to think that I can live alone, or perhaps with my cousin Kate, more happily than I could with any husband."


"Perhaps so; but, at any rate, I mean to try.

"Perhaps; but, at any rate, I mean to try.


We Vavasors don't seem to be good at marrying."


"You want some one to break your heart for you; that's what you want," said Lady Glencora.

"You want someone to break your heart for you," said Lady Glencora.


In saying this she knew but little of the state of her friend's heart, and perhaps was hardly capable of understanding it. With all the fuss that Lady Glencora made to herself,--with all the tears that she had shed about her lost lover, and was so often shedding,--with all her continual thinking of the matter, she had never loved Burgo Fitzgerald as Alice Vavasor had loved Mr. Grey.

She understood little of the state of her friend's heart; for with all the tears that Lady Glencora had shed about her lost lover, and her continual thinking of the matter, she had never loved Burgo Fitzgerald as Alice Vavasor had loved Mr. Grey.


But her nature was altogether different to that of Alice.

But her nature was altogether different to Alice's.


Love with her had in it a gleam of poetry, a spice of fun, a touch of self-devotion, something even of hero-worship; but with it all there was a dash of devilry, and an aptitude almost for wickedness.

Love with her had in it a gleam of poetry, a spice of fun, something even of hero-worship; but with it all there was a dash of devilry, and almost wickedness.


She knew Burgo Fitzgerald to be a scapegrace, and she liked him the better on that account.


She despised her husband because he had no vices.


She would have given everything she had to Burgo,--pouring her wealth upon him with a total disregard of herself, had she been allowed to do so. She would have forgiven him sin after sin, and might perhaps have brought him round, at last, to some life not absolutely reckless and wretched. But in all that she might have done, there would have been no thoughtfulness,--no true care either for him or for herself.

She would have given everything she had to Burgo; but in all that she might have done for him, there would have been no thoughtfulness - no true care.


And now that she was married there was no thoughtfulness, or care either for herself or for her husband.

And now that she was married there was no thoughtfulness or care either for herself or for her husband.


She was ready to sacrifice herself for him, if any sacrifice might be required of her.

She was ready to sacrifice herself for him, if necessary.


She believed herself to be unfit for him, and would have submitted to be divorced,--or smothered out of the way, for the matter of that,--if the laws of the land would have permitted it.

She believed herself to be unfit for him, and would have submitted to be divorced.


But she had never for a moment given to herself the task of thinking what conduct on her part might be the best for his welfare.

But she had never for a moment set herself the task of thinking what conduct on her part might be best for his welfare.


But Alice's love had been altogether of another kind,--and I am by no means sure that it was better suited for the work of this work-a-day world than that of her cousin. It was too thoughtful. I will not say that there was no poetry in it, but I will say that it lacked romance.

Alice's love had been altogether of another kind - and it lacked romance.


There was certainly in it neither fun nor wickedness; nor was there, I fear, so large a proportion of hero-worship as there always should be in a girl's heart when she gives it away.

There was certainly in it neither fun nor wickedness; nor was there, I fear, so much hero-worship as there should be in a girl's heart when she gives it away.


But there was in it an amount of self-devotion which none of those near to her had hitherto understood,--unless it were that one to whom the understanding of it was of the most importance.


In all the troubles of her love, of her engagements, and her broken promises, she had thought more of others than of herself,--and, indeed, those troubles had chiefly come from that self-devotion.

But in all the troubles of her love, she had thought more of others than of herself; and, indeed, those troubles had chiefly come from that.


She had left John Grey because she feared that she would do him no good as his wife,--that she would not make him happy; and she had afterwards betrothed herself for a second time to her cousin, because she believed that she could serve him by marrying him.

She had left John Grey because she feared that she would do him no good as his wife; and she had betrothed herself for a second time to her cousin, because she believed that she could help him by marrying him.


Of course she had been wrong. She had been very wrong to give up the man she did love, and more wrong again in suggesting to herself the possibility of marrying the man she did not love. She knew that she had been wrong in both, and was undergoing repentance with very bitter inward sackcloth.

Of course she had been wrong on both counts. She knew it, was undergoing bitter repentance.


But she said little of all this even to her cousin.

But she said little of all this to her cousin.


They went to Lucerne by Basle, and put up at the big hotel with the balcony over the Rhine, which Alice remembered so well.

They went through Basle, and stayed at the big hotel with the balcony over the Rhine, which Alice remembered so well.


On the first evening of her arrival she found herself again looking down upon the river, as though it might have been from the same spot which she had occupied together with George and Kate.

On the first evening of her arrival she found herself again looking down upon the river.


But, in truth, that house is very large, and has many bedrooms over the water.


Who has ever been through Basle, and not stood in one of them, looking down upon the father of waters?


Here, on this very spot, in one of these balconies, was brought to her a letter from her cousin Kate, which was filled with tidings respecting her cousin George.

Here, on one of these balconies, was brought to her a letter from her cousin Kate, which was filled with news about her cousin George.


Mr. Palliser brought it to her with his own hands, and she had no other alternative but to read it in his presence.

Mr. Palliser brought it, and she had no alternative but to read it in his presence.


"George has lost his election," the letter began.


For one moment Alice thought of her money, and the vain struggle in which it had been wasted.


For one moment, something like regret for the futility of the effort she had made came upon her.

She felt a fleeting regret for the futility of the effort.


"It was worth our while to try it," she said to herself, and then went on with her letter.


"I and Aunt Greenow are up in London," the letter went on to say, "and have just heard the news.

"I and Aunt Greenow are up in London," the letter said, "and have just heard the news.


Though I have been here for three days, and have twice sent word to him to say so, he has not been near me.

Though I have been here for three days, and have twice sent word to him, he has not been near me.


Perhaps it is best that he should stay away, as I do not know how any words could pass between us that would be pleasant.

Perhaps it is best that he should stay away, as I do not know how any pleasant words could pass between us.


The poll was finished this afternoon, and he lost his election by a large majority.


There were five candidates altogether for the two seats--three Liberals, and two Conservatives. The other two Liberals were seated, and he was the last of the five.

There were five candidates altogether for the two seats, and he was the last of the five.


I continue to hear tidings about him from day to day,--or rather, my aunt hears them and tells them to me, which fill me full of fears as to his future career.

I continue to hear news about him - or rather, my aunt hears and tells me - which fills me with fear about his future career.


I believe that he has abandoned his business, and that he has now no source of income.

I believe that he has abandoned his business, and has no source of income.


I would willingly share what I have with him; or I would do more than that. After keeping back enough to repay you gradually what he owes you, I would give him all my share of the income out of the estate.

I would willingly share what I have with him; or I would give him all my share of the income out of the estate.


But I cannot do this while we are presumed to be enemies.


I am up here to see a lawyer as to some steps which he is taking to upset grandpapa's will.

I am in London to see a lawyer about some steps which George is taking to upset grandpapa's will.


The lawyer says that it is all nonsense, and that George's lawyer is not really in earnest; but I cannot do anything till the matter is settled.


Dear Alice, though so much of your money is for a time gone, I am bound to congratulate you on your safety,--on what I may more truly call your escape.

"Dear Alice, though so much of your money is gone, I must congratulate you on your escape.


You will understand what my own feelings must be in writing this, after all that I did to bring you and him together,--after all my hopes and ambition respecting him.

You will understand what I feel in writing this, after all that I did to bring you and him together - after all my hopes and ambitions.


I do not think I shall ever dare to indulge in any strong desire again.


I think you will forgive me the injury I have done you;--and I know that you will pity me.

I think you will forgive me the injury I have done you; and I know that you will pity me.


"I am here to see the London lawyer,--but not only for that.


Aunt Greenow is buying her wedding clothes, and Captain Bellfield is in lodgings near to us, also buying his trousseau; or, as I should more properly say, having it bought for him.

"Aunt Greenow is buying her wedding clothes, and Captain Bellfield is in lodgings near to us, also buying his trousseau; or, I should say, having it bought for him.


I am hardly in a mood for much mirth, but it is impossible not to laugh inwardly when she discusses before me the state of his wardrobe, and proposes economical arrangements--greatly to his disgust.

I am hardly in a mood for mirth, but it is impossible not to laugh inwardly when she discusses the state of his wardrobe, and proposes economies - greatly to his disgust.


At present, she holds him very tightly in hand, and makes him account for all his hours as well as all his money.

She holds him very tightly in hand, and makes him account for all his hours as well as all his money.


'Of course, he'll run wild directly he's married,' she said to me, yesterday; 'and, of course, there'll always be a fight about it; but the more I do to tame him now, the less wild he'll be by-and-by.

"'Of course, he'll run wild directly he's married,' she said to me, yesterday; 'but the more I tame him now, the less wild he'll be by-and-by.


And though I dare say, I shall scold him sometimes, I shall never quarrel with him.'

And though I shall scold him sometimes, I shall never quarrel with him.'


I have no doubt all that is true; but what a fool she is to trouble herself with such a man.


I took courage to tell her once that a caged tiger would give her as much to do, and be less dangerous. She was angry at this, and answered me very sharply.

I took courage to tell her once that a caged tiger would give her as much to do; and she answered me very sharply.


I had tried my hand on a tiger, she said, and had felt his claws.


She chose to sacrifice herself,--if a sacrifice it were to be,--when some good result might be possible.

She chose to sacrifice herself when some good result might be possible.


I had nothing further to say; and from that time to this we have been on the pleasantest terms possible as to the Captain.

I had nothing further to say; and since then we have been on the pleasantest terms about the Captain.


They have settled with your father to take Vavasor Hall for three years, and I suppose I shall stay with them till your return.

"They have arranged with your father to take Vavasor Hall for three years, and I suppose I shall stay with them till your return.


What I may do then will depend entirely upon your doings.


I feel myself to be a desolate, solitary being, without any tie to any person, or to any place.

I feel myself to be a desolate, solitary being, without any tie.


I never thought that I should feel the death of my grandfather to be such a loss to me as it has been.

I never thought that I should feel the death of my grandfather to be such a loss.


Except you, I have nothing left to me; and, as regards you, I have the unpleasant feeling that I have for years been endeavouring to do you the worst possible injury, and that you must regard me as an enemy from whom you have escaped indeed, but not without terrible wounds."

Apart from you, I have nothing left to me; and I have the unpleasant feeling that I have for years been trying to do you the worst possible injury, and that you must regard me as an enemy from whom you have escaped, but not without terrible wounds."


Alice was always angered by any assumption that her conduct to Mr. Grey had been affected by the advice or influence of her cousin Kate.


But this very feeling seemed to preserve Kate from the worse anger, which might have been aroused against her, had Alice acknowledged the injury which her cousin had in truth done to her.


It was undoubtedly true that had Alice neither seen nor heard from Kate during the progress of John Grey's courtship, John Grey would not have lost his wife.

It was undoubtedly true that if Alice had neither seen nor heard from Kate during John Grey's courtship, John Grey would not have lost his wife.


But against this truth Alice was always protesting within her own breast.

But Alice protested against this truth within her own breast.


She had been weak, foolish, irresolute,--and had finally acted with false judgement. So much she now admitted to herself. But she would not admit that any other woman had persuaded her to such weakness.

She had been weak and foolish; but she would not admit that any other woman had persuaded her to such weakness.


"She mistakes me," Alice thought, as she put up her letter.


"She is not the enemy who has wounded me."


Mr. Palliser, who had brought her the letter, was seated in the same balcony, and while Alice had been reading, had almost buried himself in newspapers which conveyed intelligence as to the general elections then in progress.

While Alice had been reading, Mr. Palliser had almost buried himself in newspapers which held news about the elections.


He was now seated with a sheet of _The Times_ in his hand, opened to its full extent,--for he had been too impatient to cut the paper,--and as he held it up in his hands before his eyes, was completely hidden beneath it. Five or six other open papers were around him, and he had not spoken a word since he had commenced his present occupation.

He was now completely hidden behind a sheet of the Times, and had not spoken a word since he had begun reading.


Lady Glencora was standing on the other side of him, and she also had received letters.

Lady Glencora had also received letters.


"Sophy tells me that you are returned for Silverbridge," she said at last.


yes; I'm returned," said Mr. Palliser, speaking with something like disdain in his voice as to the possibility of anybody having stood with a chance of success against him in his own family borough.

yes; I'm returned," said Mr. Palliser, speaking with something like disdain about the possibility of anything else in his own family borough.


For a full appreciation of the advantages of a private seat in the House of Commons let us always go to those great Whig families who were mainly instrumental in carrying the Reform Bill. The house of Omnium had been very great on that occasion.

The house of Omnium had been very great in carrying out the Reform Bill.


It had given up much, and had retained for family use simply the single seat at Silverbridge.


But that that seat should be seriously disputed hardly suggested itself as possible to the mind of any Palliser.


The Pallisers and the other great Whig families have been right in this.


They have kept in their hands, as rewards for their own services to the country, no more than the country is manifestly willing to give them.


"Yes; I have been returned," said Mr. Palliser.


"I'm sorry to see, Miss Vavasor, that your cousin has not been so fortunate."

"I'm sorry to see, Miss Vavasor, that your cousin has not been so fortunate," he said.


Those Metropolitan elections cost so much trouble and so much money, and under the most favourable circumstances, are so doubtful.

"Those Metropolitan elections cost so much trouble and money, and are so doubtful.


A man is never sure there till he has fought for his seat three or four times."


"This has been the third time with him," said Alice, "and he is a poor man."


"Dear, dear," said Mr. Palliser, who himself knew nothing of such misfortunes.

"Dear, dear," said Mr. Palliser, who knew nothing of such misfortunes.


"I have always thought that those seats should be left to rich commercial men who can afford to spend money upon them.


Instead of that, they are generally contested by men of moderate means.


Another of my friends in the House has been thrown out."


"Mr. Bott," said the unthinking husband.


The red-haired man, that used to stand about, you know, at Matching;--he has lost his seat in Parliament.

The red-haired man, that used to stand about, you know, at Matching.


I suppose he'll go and stand about somewhere in Lancashire, now."


A very indiscreet woman was poor Lady Glencora.


Mr. Palliser's face became black beneath _The Times_ newspaper.


"I did not know," said he, "that my friend Mr. Bott and Miss Vavasor were enemies."

"I did not know," said Mr. Palliser stiffly, "that my friend Mr. Bott and Miss Vavasor were enemies."


I don't suppose they were enemies," said Glencora.


"But he was a man whom no one could help observing,--and disliking."

"But he was a man whom no one could help disliking."


"He was a man I specially disliked," said Alice, with great courage.


"He may be very well in Parliament; but I never met a man who could make himself so disagreeable in society.


I really did feel myself constrained to be his enemy."


"I hope he did nothing at Matching, to--to--to--," began Mr. Palliser, apologetically.

"I hope he did nothing at Matching, to - to -" began Mr. Palliser.


"Nothing especially to offend me, Mr. Palliser,--except that he had a way that I especially dislike of trying to make little secret confidences."

"Nothing especially to offend me, Mr. Palliser - except that he had an unpleasant way of trying to make little secret confidences.


"And then he was so ugly," said Lady Glencora.


"I felt certain that he endeavoured to do mischief," said Alice.

I felt certain that he was trying to do mischief," said Alice.


"Of course he did," said Lady Glencora; "and he had a habit of rubbing his head against the papers in the rooms, and leaving a mark behind him that was quite unpardonable."

"Of course he was," said Lady Glencora; "and he had a habit of rubbing his head against the wallpaper, and leaving a mark that was quite unpardonable."


Mr. Palliser was effectually talked down, and felt himself constrained to abandon his political ally.

Mr. Palliser felt himself forced to abandon his political ally.


Perhaps he did this the easier as the loss which Mr. Bott had just suffered would materially interfere with his political utility.

Perhaps this was easier now that Mr. Bott had lost his seat.


"I suppose he will remain now among his own people," said Mr. Palliser.


"Let us hope he will," said Lady Glencora,--"and that his own people will appreciate the advantage of his presence."


Then there was nothing more said about Mr. Bott.


It was evening, and while they were still sitting among their letters and newspapers, there came a shout along the water, and the noise of many voices from the bridge.

It was evening, and while they were still sitting among their letters and newspapers, there came a shout along the water, and the noise of voices from the bridge.


Suddenly, there shot down before them in the swift running stream the heads of many swimmers in the river, and with the swimmers came boats carrying their clothes.

Suddenly, there shot down before them in the swift running stream the heads of many swimmers in the river, alongside boats carrying their clothes.


They went by almost like a glance of light upon the waters, so rapid was the course of the current.

They went by almost like a glance of light upon the waters, so rapid was the current.


There was the shout of voices,--the quick passage of the boats,--the uprising, some half a dozen times, of the men's hands above the surface; and then they were gone down the river, out of sight,--like morsels of wood thrown into a cataract, which are borne away instantly.


"It seems to be very dangerous," said Mr. Palliser.


"I don't know how they can stop themselves."


"Why should they want to stop themselves?"


"Think how cool the water must be, and how beautiful to be carried along so quickly, and to go on, and on, and on!

"Think how cool the water must be, and how beautiful to be carried along so quickly!"


As no encouragement was given to this proposition, Lady Glencora did not repeat it; but stood leaning on the rail of the balcony, and looking enviously down upon the water.

She stood leaning on the rail of the balcony, and looking enviously down upon the water.


Alice was, of course, thinking of that other evening, when perhaps the same swimmers had come down under the bridge and before the balcony, and where George Vavasor was sitting in her presence. It was, I think, on that evening, that she made up her mind to separate herself from Mr. Grey.

Alice was, of course, thinking of that other evening, when George Vavasor was with her - and when she made up her mind to separate herself from Mr. Grey.


On the day after that, Mr. Palliser and his party went on to Lucerne, making that journey, as I have said, by slow stages; taking Schaffhausen and Zurich in their way.

The next day, Mr. Palliser and his party went on to Lucerne, making that journey by slow stages via Schaffhausen and Zurich.


At Lucerne, they established themselves for some time, occupying nearly a dozen rooms in the great hotel which overlooks the lake.

At Lucerne, they stayed for some time in the great hotel which overlooks the lake.


Here there came to them a visitor, of whose arrival I will speak in the next chapter.


These arrangements as to the return of Mr. Palliser's party to London did not, of course, include Mr. Grey.

These arrangements for the return of Mr. Palliser's party to London did not, of course, include Mr. Grey.

Chapter 74: Showing What Happened in the Churchyard


They were generally discussed in Mr. Grey's absence, and communicated to him by Mr. Palliser.


"I suppose we shall see you in England before long?"


"I shall be able to tell you that before you go," said Grey.


"Not but that in any event I shall return to England before the winter."

"In any event I shall return to England before winter."


"Then come to us at Matching," said Mr. Palliser.


Say that you'll come for the first fortnight in December.


After that we always go to the Duke, in Barsetshire. Though, by-the-by, I don't suppose we shall go anywhere this year," Mr. Palliser added, interrupting the warmth of his invitation, and reflecting that, under the present circumstances, perhaps, it might be improper to have any guests at Matching in December.

After that we always go to the Duke, in Barsetshire - though I don't suppose we shall go anywhere this year." Mr. Palliser reflected that, under the circumstances, it might be improper to have any guests at Matching in December.


But he had become very fond of Mr. Grey, and on this occasion, as he had done on some others, pressed him warmly to make an attempt at Parliament.

But he had become very fond of Mr. Grey, and now, as on several occasions, pressed him warmly to make an attempt at Parliament.


"It isn't nearly so difficult as you think," said he, when Grey declared that he would not know where to look for a seat.

"It isn't nearly so difficult as you think," said he.


"See the men that get in. There was Mr. Vavasor.


"You might easily find some quiet little borough."


"Quiet little boroughs have usually got their own quiet little Members," said Grey.


"They're fond of change; and if you like to spend a thousand pounds, the thing isn't difficult.


He was not a man prone to be talked out of his own way of life, and the very fact that George Vavasor had been in Parliament would of itself have gone far towards preventing any attempt on his part in that direction.

He was not a man to be talked out of his own way of life, and the very fact that George Vavasor had been in Parliament deterred him from making any attempt himself.


Alice had also wanted him to go into public life, but he had put aside her request as though the thing were quite out of the question,--never giving a moment to its consideration.

Alice had also wanted him to go into public life, but he had put aside her request without giving it consideration.


Had she asked him to settle himself and her in Central Africa, his manner and mode of refusal would have been the same.


It was this immobility on his part,--this absolute want of any of the weakness of indecision, which had frightened her, and driven her away from him.

It was this immobility on his part - this absolute lack of any of the weakness of indecision, which had frightened her, and driven her away from him.


He was partly aware of this; but that which he had declined to do at her solicitation, he certainly would not do at the advice of any one else.

He was partly aware of this; but if he had not done it at her suggestion, he certainly would not do on the advice of anyone else.


So it was that he argued the matter with himself.


Had he now allowed himself to be so counselled, with what terrible acknowledgements of his own faults must he not have presented himself before Alice?

If he changed his mind, what terrible acknowledgements of his own faults must he not have made before Alice?


"I suppose books, then, will be your object in life?"


"I hope they will be my aids," Grey answered.


"I almost doubt whether any object such as that you mean is necessary for life, or even expedient.

"I almost doubt whether any object is necessary for life.


It seems to me that if a man can so train himself that he may live honestly and die fearlessly, he has done about as much as is necessary."

It seems to me that if a man can live honestly and die fearlessly, he has done about as much as is necessary."


"He has done a great deal, certainly," said Mr. Palliser, who was not ready enough to carry on the argument as he might have done had more time been given to him to consider it.

"He has done a great deal, certainly," said Mr. Palliser, who would have been ready enough to carry on the argument if he had more time.


He knew very well that he himself was working for others, and not for himself; and he was aware, though he had not analysed his own convictions on the matter, that good men struggle as they do in order that others, besides themselves, may live honestly, and, if possible, die fearlessly.

He knew that he himself was working for others, and not for himself; and he was aware that good men struggle as they do in order that others, besides themselves, may live honestly and die fearlessly.


The recluse of Nethercoats had thought much more about all this than the rising star of the House of Commons; but the philosophy of the rising star was the better philosophy of the two, though he was by far the less brilliant man.

The recluse of Nethercoats had thought much more about all this than the rising star of the House of Commons; but the rising star had the better philosophy of the two, though he was a less brilliant man.


"I don't see why a man should not live honestly and be a Member of Parliament as well," continued Mr. Palliser, when he had been silent for a few minutes.

"I don't see why a man should not live honestly and be a Member of Parliament as well," continued Mr. Palliser.


"I am sure that there are such men, and that the country is under great obligation to them.


But they are subject to temptations which a prudent man like myself may perhaps do well to avoid."

But they have temptations which a prudent man may do well to avoid."


But though he spoke with an assured tone, he was shaken, and almost regretted that he did not accept the aid which was offered to him.


It is astonishing how strong a man may be to those around him,--how impregnable may be his exterior, while within he feels himself to be as weak as water, and as unstable as chaff.


But the object which he had now in view was a renewal of his engagement with Alice, and he felt that he must obtain an answer from her before they left Lucerne.

What he now wished for was a renewal of his engagement with Alice, and he felt that he must obtain an answer from her before they left Lucerne.


If she still persisted in refusing to give him her hand, it would not be consistent with his dignity as a man to continue his immediate pursuit of her any longer.

If she still persisted in refusing to give him her hand, it would not be consistent with his dignity to continue his immediate pursuit of her any longer.


In such case he must leave her, and see what future time might bring forth.

In that case he must leave her, and see what the future might bring.


He believed himself to be aware that he would never offer his love to another woman; and if Alice were to remain single, he might try again, after the lapse of a year or two.

If Alice were to remain single, he might try again, after a year or two.


But if he failed now,--then, for that year or two, he would see her no more.

But if he failed now, then for that year or two he would see her no more.


Having so resolved, and being averse to anything like a surprise, he asked her, as he left her one evening, whether she would walk with him on the following morning.

Having resolved this, he asked her one evening whether she would walk with him on the following morning - the morning of her last day at Lucerne.


That morning would be the morning of her last day at Lucerne; and as she assented she knew well what was to come.

As she agreed she knew well what was to come.


She said nothing to Lady Glencora on the subject, but allowed the coming prospects of the Palliser family to form the sole subject of their conversation that night, as it had done on every night since the great news had become known. They were always together for an hour every evening before Alice was allowed to go to bed, and during this hour the anxieties of the future father and mother were always discussed till Alice Vavasor was almost tired of them. But she was patient with her friend, and on this special night she was patient as ever. But when she was released and was alone, she made a great endeavour to come to some fixed resolution as to what she would do on the morrow,--some resolution which should be absolutely resolute, and from which no eloquence on the part of any one should move her.

She said nothing to Lady Glencora about it, but that night, when she was alone, she tried to decide what she would do.


But such resolutions are not easily reached, and Alice laboured through half the night almost in vain.


She knew that he was as true to her as the sun is true to the earth.


She knew that she would be, in all respects, safe in his hands.

She knew that she would be safe in his hands.


She knew that Lady Glencora would be delighted, and her father gratified.


She knew that the countesses would open their arms to her,--though I doubt whether this knowledge was in itself very persuasive.


She knew that by such a marriage she would gain all that women generally look to gain when they give themselves away.


But, nevertheless, as far as she could decide at all, she decided against her lover.


She had no right of her own to be taken back after the evil that she had done, and she did not choose to be taken back as an object of pity and forgiveness.

She had no right to be taken back after the evil that she had done, and she did not choose to be taken back as an object of pity and forgiveness.


said her cousin, when she came in with her hat on, soon after breakfast.


"Then it's all settled, and you haven't told me!"


"All that is settled I have told you very often.


He asked me yesterday to walk with him this morning, and I could not well refuse him."

He asked me yesterday to walk with him this morning, and I could not very well refuse him."


"Why should you have wished to refuse him?"


But I hate scenes, and I think it would have been pleasanter for us to have parted without any occasion for special words."

"I think it would have been pleasanter for us to have parted without any need for special words."


"Of course he is now going to say the very thing that he has come all this way for the purpose of saying.

"Of course he is now going to say the very thing that he has come all this way for.


He has been wonderfully slow about it; but then slow as he is, you are slower.

He has been wonderfully slow about it; but you are slower.


If you don't make it up with him now, I really shall think you are very wicked.

If you don't make up with him now, I really shall think you are very wicked.


I am becoming like Lady Midlothian;--I can't understand it.


I know you want to be his wife, and I know he wants to be your husband, and the only thing that keeps you apart is your obstinacy,--just because you have said you wouldn't have him.

I know you want to be his wife, and I know he wants to be your husband, and the only thing that keeps you apart is your obstinacy.


My belief is that if Lady Midlothian and the rest of us were to pat you on the back, and tell you how right you were, you'd ask him to take you, out of defiance.


You may be sure of this, Alice; if you refuse him now, it'll be for the last time."


This, and much more of the same kind, she bore before Mr. Grey came to take her, and she answered to it all as little as she could.


"You are making me very unhappy, Glencora," she said once.

"You are making me very unhappy, Glencora," she said.


"I wish I could break you down with unhappiness," Lady Glencora answered, "so that he might find you less stiff, and hard, and unmanageable."


Directly upon that he came in, looking as though he had no business on hand more exciting than his ordinary morning's tranquil employments.

Just then he came in, looking as though he had no business on hand more exciting than his ordinary morning's tranquil employments.


"So you and Alice are going to make your adieux," said Lady Glencora.


"It must be done sooner or later," said Mr. Grey; and then they went off.

"It must be done sooner or later," said Mr. Grey; and off they went.


Those who know Lucerne,--and almost everybody now does know Lucerne,--will remember the big hotel which has been built close to the landing-pier of the steamers, and will remember also the church that stands upon a little hill or rising ground, to the left of you, as you come out of the inn upon the lake. The church is immediately over the lake, and round the church there is a burying-ground, and skirting the burying-ground there are cloisters, through the arches and apertures of which they who walk and sit there look down immediately upon the blue water, and across the water upon the frowning menaces of Mount Pilate. It is one of the prettiest spots in that land of beauty; and its charm is to my feeling enhanced by the sepulchral monuments over which I walk, and by which I am surrounded, as I stand there.

The church by Lake Lucerne is one of the prettiest spots in that land of beauty.


Up here, into these cloisters, Alice and John Grey went together.

Up here, into the cloisters, Alice and John Grey went together.


I doubt whether he had formed any purpose of doing so.


She certainly would have gone without question in any direction that he might have led her.


The distance from the inn up to the church-gate did not take them ten minutes, and when they were there their walk was over.


But the place was solitary, and they were alone; and it might be as well for Mr. Grey to speak what words he had to say there as elsewhere.


They had often been together in those cloisters before, but on such occasions either Mr. Palliser or Lady Glencora had been with them.


On their slow passage up the hill very little was spoken, and that little was of no moment.


"We will go in here for a few minutes," he said.


"It is the prettiest spot about Lucerne, and we don't know when we may see it again."

"It is a lovely spot, and we don't know when we may see it again."


So they went in, and sat down on one of the embrasures that open from the cloisters over the lake.

The place was deserted as they went in, and sat down on one of the embrasures that open over the lake.


"And yet I have been here now two years running."


She shuddered as she remembered that in that former year George Vavasor had been with her. As she thought of it all she hated herself.

She shuddered as she remembered the time when George Vavasor had been with her; and she hated herself.


Over and over again she had told herself that she had so mismanaged the latter years of her life that it was impossible for her not to hate herself.


No woman had a clearer idea of feminine constancy than she had, and no woman had sinned against that idea more deeply.


He gave her time to think of all this as he sat there looking down upon the water.

He gave her time to think of all this as he sat looking down upon the water.


"And yet I would sooner live in Cambridgeshire," were the first words he spoke.

"And yet I would sooner live in Cambridgeshire," he said.


"Partly because all beauty is best enjoyed when it is sought for with some trouble and difficulty, and partly because such beauty, and the romance which is attached to it, should not make up the staple of one's life.

"Partly because such beauty and romance should not make up the staple of one's life.


Romance, if it is to come at all, should always come by fits and starts."


"I should like to live in a pretty country."


"And would like to live a romantic life,--no doubt; but all those things lose their charm if they are made common.

"And would like to live a romantic life; but all those things lose their charm if they are made common.


When a man has to go to Vienna or St. Petersburg two or three times a month, you don't suppose he enjoys travelling?"


"All the same, I should like to live in a pretty country," said Alice.


"And I want you to come and live in a very ugly country."


Then he paused for a minute or two, not looking at her, but gazing still on the mountain opposite.


She did not speak a word, but looked as he was looking.


She knew that the request was coming, and had been thinking about it all night; but now that it had come she did not know how to bear herself.


"I don't think," he went on to say, "that you would let that consideration stand in your way, if on other grounds you were willing to become my wife."

"I don't think," he went on, "that you would let that stand in your way, if on other grounds you were willing to become my wife."


"Because Nethercoats is not so pretty as Lucerne."


"It would have nothing to do with it," said Alice.

"Prettiness would have nothing to do with it," said Alice.


"Nothing; nothing at all," repeated Alice.


Will you come and be my wife, and help me to be happy amidst all that ugliness?


Will you come and be my one beautiful thing, my treasure, my joy, my comfort, my counsellor?"


Alice, this has been a bad year to me, and I do not think that it has been a happy one for you."


"Let us forget it,--or rather, let us treat it as though it were forgotten.

"Let us forget it - or rather, let us treat it as though it were forgotten.


Twelve months ago you were mine. You were, at any rate, so much mine that I had a right to boast of my possession among my friends."

Twelve months ago you were mine - enough mine, at least, that I had a right to boast of my possession among my friends."


I had but one or two to whom I could speak of you, but they told me that I was going to be a happy man.


As to myself, I was sure that I was to be so.


No man was ever better contented with his bargain than I was with mine.

And no man was ever better contented with his bargain than I was with mine.


Let us go back to it, and the last twelve months shall be as though they had never been."


"That cannot be, Mr. Grey. If it could, I should be worse even than I am."
"Why cannot it be?"
"Because I cannot forgive myself what I have done, and because you ought not to forgive me."

"That cannot be, Mr. Grey - because I cannot forgive myself what I have done, and you ought not to forgive me."


There has never been an hour with me in which there has been an offence of yours rankling in my bosom unforgiven.


I think you have been foolish, misguided,--led away by a vain ambition, and that in the difficulty to which these things brought you, you endeavoured to constrain yourself to do an act, which, when it came near to you,--when the doing of it had to be more closely considered, you found to be contrary to your nature."

I think you have been foolish, misguided - led away by a vain ambition, and that in your difficulty, you tried to force yourself to do something which you then found to be contrary to your nature."


Now, as he spoke thus, she turned her eyes upon him, and looked at him, wondering that he should have had power to read her heart so accurately.

As he spoke, she turned her eyes upon him, wondering that he should have read her heart so accurately.


"I never believed that you would marry your cousin.


When I was told of it, I knew that trouble had blinded you for awhile.

When I was told of it, I knew that trouble had blinded you for a while.


You had driven yourself to revolt against me, and upon that your heart misgave you, and you said to yourself that it did not matter then how you might throw away all your sweetness.

You had driven yourself to revolt against me, and your heart misgave you, and you said to yourself that it did not matter then how you might throw away all your sweetness.


You see that I speak of your old love for me with the frank conceit of a happy lover."


"But the storm passes over the tree and does not tear it up by the roots or spoil it of all its symmetry.

"But the storm passes over the tree and does not tear it up by the roots.


When we hear the winds blowing, and see how the poor thing is shaken, we think that its days are numbered and its destruction at hand. Alice, when the winds were shaking you, and you were torn and buffeted, I never thought so.

Alice, when the winds were shaking you, and you were torn and buffeted, I never thought your destruction was at hand.


There may be some who will forgive you slowly.


But I, who have known you better than any one,--yes, better than any one,--I have forgiven you everything, have forgiven you instantly.

But I, who have known you better than any one, I have forgiven you everything, have forgiven you instantly.


She sat quite still, looking at the lake and the mountain beyond, but she said nothing.


"My need of you is much greater now," he went on to say, "than when I first asked you to share the world with me.

"My need of you is much greater now," he went on to say, "than when I first asked you.


Then I could have borne to lose you, as I had never boasted to myself that you were my own,--had never pictured to myself the life that might be mine if you were always to be with me.

Then I could have borne to lose you, as I had never pictured to myself the life that might be mine if you were with me.


But since that day I have had no other hope,--no other hope but this for which I plead now.

But since that day I have had no other hope but this.


"You do not know me," she said; "how vile I have been!


You do not think what it is,--for a woman to have promised herself to one man while she loved another."

You do not think what it is, for a woman to have promised herself to one man while she loved another."


Do I not tell you that I did forgive it the moment that I heard it?


Do you not hear me say that I never for a moment thought that you would marry him?


Alice, you should scold me for my vanity, for I have believed all through that you loved me, and me only.

Alice, you should scold me for my vanity, for I have believed all through that you loved me.


Come to me, dear, and tell me that it is so, and the past shall be only as a dream."


"They will cease to be bitter dreams if your head be upon my shoulder.


You will cease to reproach yourself when you know that you have made me happy."


"I shall never cease to reproach myself.


I have done that which no woman can do and honour herself afterwards.


"The noblest jilt that ever yet halted between two minds!


There has been no touch of selfishness in your fickleness.


I think I could be hard enough upon a woman who had left me for greater wealth, for a higher rank,--who had left me even that she might be gay and merry.

I think I could be hard enough upon a woman who had left me for greater wealth, or higher rank.


I thought you were too firm in your own will, and--"

I thought you were too firm in your own will, and-"


I am a fallen creature, and have no longer a right to such thoughts.

I no longer have a right to such thoughts.


It will be better for us both that you should leave me,--and forget me.

It will be better for us both that you should leave me - and forget me.


There are things which, if a woman does them, should never be forgotten;--which she should never permit herself to forget."

There are things which, if a woman does them, she should never permit herself to forget."


"And am I to be punished, then, because of your fault?


He got up, and standing before her, looked down upon her.


"Alice, if you will tell me that you do not love me, I will believe you, and will trouble you no more.

"Alice, if you tell me that you do not love me, I will believe you, and will trouble you no more.


I know that you will say nothing to me that is false.

I know that you will say nothing that is false.


Through it all you have spoken no word of falsehood.


If you love me, after what has passed, I have a right to demand your hand.

But if you love me, I have a right to demand your hand.


My happiness requires it, and I have a right to expect your compliance.


If you love me, Alice, I tell you that you dare not refuse me.


If you do so, you will fail hereafter to reconcile it to your conscience before God."


Then he stopped his speech, and waited for a reply; but Alice sat silent beneath his gaze, with her eyes turned upon the tombstones beneath her feet.

Then he waited; but Alice sat silent, with her eyes turned upon the tombstones.


Of course she had no choice but to yield.


He, possessed of power and force infinitely greater than hers, had left her no alternative but to be happy.

He had left her no alternative but to be happy.


But there still clung to her what I fear we must call a perverseness of obstinacy, a desire to maintain the resolution she had made,--a wish that she might be allowed to undergo the punishment she had deserved.

But there still clung to her what I fear we must call a perverseness of obstinacy, a desire to keep the resolution she had made - to undergo the punishment she had deserved.


She was as a prisoner who would fain cling to his prison after pardon has reached him, because he is conscious that the pardon is undeserved.


And it may be that there was still left within her bosom some remnant of that feeling of rebellion which his masterful spirit had ever produced in her.

And it may be that she still felt some remnant of the rebellion which his masterful spirit had always produced in her.


He was so imperious in his tranquillity, he argued his question of love with such a manifest preponderance of right on his side, that she had always felt that to yield to him would be to confess the omnipotence of his power.

He was so imperious in his tranquillity - he argued with such a manifest weight of right on his side, that she had always felt that to yield to him would be to confess the omnipotence of his power.


She knew now that she must yield to him,--that his power over her was omnipotent.

She knew now that she must yield to him.


She was pressed by him as in some countries the prisoner is pressed by the judge,--so pressed that she acknowledged to herself silently that any further antagonism to him was impossible.


Nevertheless, the word which she had to speak still remained unspoken, and he stood over her, waiting for her answer.

Nevertheless, the word which she had to speak still remained unspoken, and he stood waiting for her answer.


Then slowly he sat down beside her, and gradually he put his arm round her waist.


She shrank from him, back against the stonework of the embrasure, but she could not shrink away from his grasp.

She shrank from him, against the stonework, but she could not shrink away from his grasp.


She put up her hand to impede his, but his hand, like his character and his words, was full of power. It would not be impeded.

She put up her hand to impede his, but his hand, like his character and his words, would not be impeded.


"Alice," he said, as he pressed her close with his arm, "the battle is over now, and I have won it."


"You win everything,--always," she said, whispering to him, as she still shrank from his embrace.

"You win everything - always," she said, whispering to him, as she still shrank from his embrace.


Then he put his face over her and pressed his lips to hers.


I wonder whether he was made happier when he knew that no other touch had profaned those lips since last he had pressed them?


The next day was Sunday, and it was well known at the lodging-house in the Close that Mr. Cheesacre would not be seen there then.


Mrs. Greenow had specially warned him that she was not fond of Sunday visitors, fearing that otherwise he might find it convenient to give them too much of his society on that idle day.

Mrs. Greenow had warned Mr. Cheesacre that she was not fond of Sunday visitors, fearing that otherwise he might give them too much of his society.


In the morning the aunt and niece both went to the Cathedral, and then at three o'clock they dined.

In the morning the aunt and niece went to the Cathedral, and at three o'clock they dined.


But on this occasion they did not dine alone.


Charlie Fairstairs, who, with her family, had come home from Yarmouth, had been asked to join them; and in order that Charlie might not feel it dull, Mrs. Greenow had, with her usual good-nature, invited Captain Bellfield.

Charlie Fairstairs had been asked to join them; and so that Charlie might not feel it dull, Mrs. Greenow had, with her usual good-nature, invited Captain Bellfield.


The captain carved the turkey, giving due honour to Mr. Cheesacre as he did so; and when he nibbled his celery with his cheese, he was prettily jocose about the richness of the farmyard at Oileymead.

The captain carved the turkey, giving due honour to Mr. Cheesacre as he did so; and when he nibbled his celery with his cheese, he joked prettily about the richness of the farmyard at Oileymead.


"He is the most generous man I ever met," said Mrs. Greenow.


"So he is," said Captain Bellfield, "and we'll drink his health.


It's a great pity he shouldn't get himself a wife."

It's a pity he shouldn't get himself a wife."


"I don't know any man more calculated to make a young woman happy," said Mrs. Greenow.


"I'm told that his house and all about it is quite beautiful."


"Especially the straw-yard and the horse-pond," said the Captain.


And then they drank the health of their absent friend.


It had been arranged that the ladies should go to church in the evening, and it was thought that Captain Bellfield would, perhaps, accompany them; but when the time for starting came, Kate and Charlie were ready, but the widow was not, and she remained,--in order, as she afterwards explained to Kate, that Captain Bellfield might not seem to be turned out of the house.

The ladies were to go to church in the evening, and it was thought that Captain Bellfield would accompany them; but when it was time to set out, Kate and Charlie were ready, but the widow was not. She stayed behind - as she afterwards explained to Kate - so as not to turn Captain Bellfield out of the house.


He had made no offer churchwards, and,--"Poor man," as Mrs. Greenow said in her little explanation, "if I hadn't let him stay there, he would have had no resting-place for the sole of his foot, but some horrid barrack-room!"


Therefore the Captain was allowed to find a resting-place in Mrs. Greenow's drawing-room; but on the return of the young ladies from church, he was not there, and the widow was alone, "looking back," she said, "to things that were gone;--that were gone.

However, when the young ladies returned from church, he was not there, and the widow was alone, "looking back," she said, "to things that were gone.


But come, dears, I am not going to make you melancholy."


So they had tea, and Mr. Cheesacre's cream was used with liberality.

So they had tea, with Mr. Cheesacre's cream.


Captain Bellfield had not allowed the opportunity to slip idly from his hands.

Captain Bellfield had not allowed the opportunity to slip.


In the first quarter of an hour after the younger ladies had gone, he said little or nothing, but sat with a wine-glass before him, which once or twice he filled from the decanter.

After the younger ladies had gone, he said little, but sat with a wine-glass before him, which once or twice he filled from the decanter.


"I'm afraid the wine is not very good," said Mrs. Greenow.


"But one can't get good wine in lodgings."


"I'm not thinking very much about it, Mrs. Greenow; that's the truth," said the Captain.

"I'm not thinking about it, Mrs. Greenow; that's the truth," said the Captain.


"I daresay the wine is very good of its kind."


Then there was another period of silence between them.


"I suppose you find it rather dull, living in lodgings; don't you?"

"I suppose you find it rather dull, living in lodgings?"


"I don't know quite what you mean by dull, Captain Bellfield; but a woman circumstanced as I am, can't find her life very gay.

"A woman in my circumstances can't find her life very gay, Captain Bellfield.


It's not a full twelvemonth yet since I lost all that made life desirable, and sometimes I wonder at myself for holding up as well as I do."

It's not yet a full year yet since I lost all that made life happy."


"It's wicked to give way to grief too much, Mrs. Greenow."


"That's what my dear Kate always says to me, and I'm sure I do my best to overcome it."

"That's what my dear Kate says, and I do my best to overcome it."


Upon this soft tears trickled down her cheek, showing in their course that she at any rate used no paint in producing that freshness of colour which was one of her great charms.

Upon this, soft tears trickled down her cheek.


Then she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and removing it, smiled faintly on the Captain.

She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and smiled faintly.


"I didn't intend to treat you to such a scene as this, Captain Bellfield."


"There is nothing on earth, Mrs. Greenow, I desire so much, as permission to dry those tears."

"There is nothing on earth, Mrs. Greenow, that I desire so much as permission to dry those tears."


"Time alone can do that, Captain Bellfield;--time alone."

"Time alone can do that, Captain Bellfield."


"But cannot time be aided by love and friendship and affection?"


What would life be worth without the solace of friendship?"

What would life be worth without friendship?"


"And how much better is the warm glow of love?"


Captain Bellfield, as he asked this question, deliberately got up, and moved his chair over to the widow's side.


But the widow as deliberately changed her position to the corner of a sofa.


The Captain did not at once follow her, nor did he in any way show that he was aware that she had fled from him.

The Captain refrained from following her immediately.


"How much better is the warm glow of love?"


he said again, contenting himself with looking into her face with all his eyes.


He had hoped that he would have been able to press her hand by this time.


"The warm, glow of love, Captain Bellfield, if you have ever felt it--"

"The warm, glow of love, Captain Bellfield, if you have ever felt it-"


There can be no longer any mask kept upon my feelings.


I never could restrain the yearnings of my heart when they have been strong."


"Have they often been strong, Captain Bellfield?"


"Yes; often;--in various scenes of life; on the field of battle--"


"I did not know that you had seen active service."


"What!--not on the plains of Zuzuland, when with fifty picked men I kept five hundred Caffres at bay for seven weeks;--never knew the comfort of a bed, or a pillow to my head, for seven long weeks!"

"What! - not on the plains of Zuzuland, when with fifty men I kept five hundred Kaffirs at bay - and never knew the comfort of a bed for seven long weeks!


Did I not see active service at Essiquebo, on the burning coast of Guiana, when all the wild Africans from the woods rose up to destroy the colony; or again at the mouth of the Kitchyhomy River, when I made good the capture of a slaver by my own hand and my own sword!"

And did I not see active service at Essiquebo, on the burning coast of Guiana, when all the wild Africans from the woods rose up to destroy the colony; or at the mouth of the Kitchyhomy River, when I captured a slaver with my own hand and my own sword!"


"I really hadn't heard," said Mrs. Greenow.


Cheesy is the best fellow in the world in some respects, but he cannot bring himself to speak well of a fellow behind his back.


Who was the first to storm the heights of Inkerman?"

Yet who was the first to storm the heights of Inkerman?"


demanded the Captain, thinking in the heat of the moment that he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.


"But when you spoke of yearnings, I thought you meant yearnings of a softer kind."

"When you spoke of yearnings, I thought you meant yearnings of a softer kind."


I don't know why I have been led away to speak of deeds that are very seldom mentioned, at any rate by myself.

I have been led away to speak of deeds that are seldom mentioned.


But I cannot bear that a slanderous backbiting tongue should make you think that I have seen no service.


I have served her Majesty in the four quarters of the globe, Mrs. Greenow; and now I am ready to serve you in any way in which you will allow me to make my service acceptable."

I have served her Majesty in the four quarters of the globe, Mrs. Greenow; and now I am ready to serve you in any way in which you will allow me."


Whereupon he took one stride over to the sofa, and went down upon his knees before her.

He took one stride over to the sofa, and went down upon his knees before her.


"But, Captain Bellfield, I don't want any services.


Pray get up now; the girl will come in."


I am planted here till some answer shall have been made to me; till some word shall have been said that may give me a little hope."

I am planted here till you give me a little hope."


Then he attempted to get hold of her hand, but she put them behind her back and shook her head.

Then he attempted to take her hand, but she put her hands behind her back and shook her head.


"Arabella," he said, "will you not speak a word to me?"


"Not a word, Captain Bellfield, till you get up; and I won't have you call me Arabella.


I am the widow of Samuel Greenow, than whom no man was more respected where he was known, and it is not fitting that I should be addressed in that way."

I am the widow of Samuel Greenow, and it is not fitting that I should be addressed in that way."


"But I want you to become my wife,--and then--"

"But I want you to become my wife - and then-"


Get up, Captain Bellfield, or I'll push you over and then ring the bell.


A man never looks so much like a fool as when he's kneeling down,--unless he's saying his prayers, as you ought to be doing now.

A man never looks so much like a fool as when he's kneeling down, unless he's saying his prayers, as you ought to be doing now.


It's just half past seven, and I told Jeannette to come to me then."

It's half past seven, and I told Jeannette to come to me then."


There was that in the widow's voice which made him get up, and he rose slowly to his feet.

Something in the widow's voice made him get up, and he rose slowly to his feet.


"You've pushed all the chairs about, you stupid man," she said.


Then in one minute she had restored the scattered furniture to their proper places, and had rung the bell.

In one minute she had restored them to their proper places, and had rung the bell.


When Jeannette came she desired that tea might be ready by the time that the young ladies returned, and asked Captain Bellfield if a cup should be set for him.

When Jeannette came she desired that tea might be ready by the time the young ladies returned, and asked Captain Bellfield if he would stay for a cup.


This he declined, and bade her farewell while Jeannette was still in the room.


She shook hands with him without any sign of anger, and even expressed a hope that they might see him again before long.

She shook hands without any sign of anger, and even expressed a hope that they might see him again before long.


"He's a very handsome man, is the Captain," said Jeannette, as the hero of the Kitchyhomy River descended the stairs.

"He's a very handsome man, is the Captain," said Jeannette, as he descended the stairs.


"You shouldn't think about handsome men, child," said Mrs. Greenow.


"Not no more than anybody else; but if a man is handsome, ma'am, why it stands to reason that he is handsome."


"I suppose Captain Bellfield has given you a kiss and a pair of gloves."


"As for gloves and such like, Mr. Cheesacre is much better for giving than the Captain; as we all know; don't we, ma'am?

"As for gloves and such like, Mr. Cheesacre is much better for giving than the Captain.


But in regard to kisses, they're presents as I never takes from anybody.

But kisses is presents as I never takes from anybody.


If the Captain ever gets a wife, let him kiss her."


On the following Tuesday morning Mr. Cheesacre as usual called in the Close, but he brought with him no basket.

On the following Tuesday morning Mr. Cheesacre called as usual in the Close, but brought no basket.


He merely left a winter nosegay made of green leaves and laurestinus flowers, and sent up a message to say that he should call at half past three, and hoped that he might then be able to see Mrs. Greenow--on particular business.

He merely left a winter nosegay made of green leaves and viburnum flowers, and sent a message to say that he should call at half past three, and hoped that he might then be able to see Mrs. Greenow on particular business.


"That means you, Kate," said Mrs. Greenow.


"No, it doesn't; it doesn't mean me at all.


It seems to be the fashionable plan now for gentlemen to make offers by deputy.

"It seems to be the fashion now for gentlemen to make offers by deputy.


If he says anything, I can only refer him to you, you know."


"Yes, you can; you can tell him simply that I won't have him.

"You can tell him simply that I won't have him.


But he is no more thinking of me than--"


"Than he is of me, you were going to say."


"No, aunt; I wasn't going to say that at all."


If he does mean anything, of course you can please yourself; but I really think you might do worse."


At half past three o'clock punctually Mr. Cheesacre came to the door, and was shown up-stairs.

At half past three o'clock Mr. Cheesacre arrived, and was shown upstairs.


He was told by Jeannette that Captain Bellfield had looked in on the Sunday afternoon, but that Miss Fairstairs and Miss Vavasor had been there the whole time.

He was told by Jeannette that Captain Bellfield had looked in on Sunday afternoon, but that Miss Fairstairs and Miss Vavasor had been there the whole time.


He had not got on his black boots nor yet had his round topped hat.


And as he did wear a new frock coat, and had his left hand thrust into a kid glove, Jeannette was quite sure that he intended business of some kind.

As he wore a new frock coat, and kid gloves, Jeannette was quite sure that he intended business of some kind.


With new boots, creaking loudly, he walked up into the drawing-room, and there he found the widow alone.

His new boots creaking loudly, he walked up into the drawing-room, and found the widow alone.


"Thanks for the flowers," she said at once. "It was so good of you to bring something that we could accept."
"As for that," said he, "I don't see why you should scruple about a trifle of cream, but I hope that any such feeling as that will be over before long." To this the widow made no answer, but she looked very sweetly on him as she bade him sit down.

"Thanks for the flowers," she said, and sweetly bade him sit down.


He did sit down; but first he put his hat and stick carefully away in one corner, and then he pulled off his glove--somewhat laboriously, for his hand was warm.

First he put his hat and stick carefully in a corner, and laboriously pulled off his gloves.


He was clearly prepared for great things.


As he pushed up his hair with his hands there came from his locks an ambrosial perfume,--as of marrow-oil, and there was a fixed propriety of position of every hair of his whiskers, which indicated very plainly that he had been at a hairdresser's shop since he left the market.

There came from his hair an ambrosial perfume - as of bone-marrow oil - and the fixed position of his whiskers indicated that he had recently been at a hairdresser's.


Nor do I believe that he had worn that coat when he came to the door earlier in the morning.


If I were to say that he had called at his tailor's also, I do not think that I should be wrong.


said Mrs. Greenow, seeing that her guest wanted some little assistance in leading off the conversation.

said Mrs. Greenow, seeing that her guest needed some assistance in starting the conversation.


"Pretty well, Mrs. Greenow; pretty well.


Everything will go very well if I am successful in the object which I have on hand to-day."

Everything will go very well if I am successful in my object today."


"I'm sure I hope you'll be successful in all your undertakings."


"In all my business undertakings I am, Mrs. Greenow.


There isn't a shilling due on my land to e'er a bank in Norwich; and I haven't thrashed out a quarter of last year's corn yet, which is more than many of them can say.

I don't owe a shilling to any bank in Norwich."


But there ain't many of them who don't have to pay rent, and so perhaps I oughtn't to boast."


"I know that Providence has been very good to you, Mr. Cheesacre, as regards worldly matters."

"I know that Providence has been very good to you, Mr. Cheesacre."


"And I haven't left it all to Providence, either.

"I haven't left it all to Providence, either.


Those who do, generally go to the wall, as far as I can see.


I'm always at work late and early, and I know when I get a profit out of a man's labour and when I don't, as well as though it was my only chance of bread and cheese."


"I always thought you understood farming business, Mr. Cheesacre."


I like a bit of fun well enough, when the time for it comes, as you saw at Yarmouth.

I like a bit of fun well enough, as you saw at Yarmouth.


And I keep my three or four hunters, as I think a country gentleman should; and I shoot over my own ground.

And I keep my three or four hunters, as I think a country gentleman should.


There are men, like Bellfield, who won't work.


"But he has fought his country's battles, Mr. Cheesacre."


I suppose he's been telling you some of his old stories.


He was ten years in the West Indies, and all his fighting was with the mosquitoes."


But do you inquire before you believe that story.

But you inquire before you believe that story.


But as I was saying, Mrs. Greenow, you have seen my little place at Oileymead."


And there's only one woman on earth that I would wish to see in that position.


Arabella Greenow, will you be that woman?"


As he made the offer he got up and stood before her, placing his right hand upon his heart.

He got up and stood before her, placing his right hand upon his heart.


[Illustration: "Arabella Greenow, will you be that woman?"]


Since I saw you what other woman has been anything to me; or, indeed, I may say before?


Since the first day I saw you I felt that there my happiness depended."

Since the first day I saw you I felt that my happiness depended on you."


"Oh, Mr. Cheesacre, I thought you were looking elsewhere."


I have the highest regard and esteem for Miss Vavasor, but really--"

I have the highest regard for Miss Vavasor, but really-"


"Mr. Cheesacre, what am I to say to you?"


Say that all I have at Oileymead shall be yours.


Say that the open carriage for a pair of ponies to be driven by a lady which I have been looking at this morning shall be yours.


Yes, indeed; the sweetest thing you ever saw in your life,--just like one that the lady of the Lord Lieutenant drives about in always.


"Ah, Mr. Cheesacre, you don't know what it is to have buried the pride of your youth hardly yet twelve months."

"Ah, Mr. Cheesacre, you don't know what it is to have buried the pride of your youth hardly twelve months."


"But you have buried him, and there let there be an end of it. Your sitting here all alone, morning, noon, and night, won't bring him back.

"But you have buried him, and sitting here all alone won't bring him back.


"I can do more, Mr. Cheesacre. I can mourn for him in solitude and in silence."

"I can mourn for him in solitude and silence, Mr. Cheesacre."


What's the use of it,--breaking your heart for nothing,--and my heart too.

What's the use of breaking your heart for nothing - and my heart too."


And Mr. Cheesacre spoke in a tone that was full of reproach.


We understand each other well enough now, surely.


And he approached her as though to put his arm round her waist.


But at that moment there came a knock at the door, and Jeannette, entering the room, told her mistress that Captain Bellfield was below and wanted to know whether he could see her for a minute on particular business.

But at that moment there came a knock at the door, and Jeannette, entering, told her mistress that Captain Bellfield was below and wanted to know whether he could see her for a minute on particular business.


"Show Captain Bellfield up, certainly," said Mrs. Greenow.


Mr. Grey and wife were duly carried away from Matching Priory by post horses, and did their honeymoon, we may be quite sure, with much satisfaction.

Mr. Grey and wife were duly carried away from Matching Priory for their honeymoon.

Chapter 80: The Story Is Finished Within the Halls of the Duke of Omnium


When Alice was first asked where she would go, she simply suggested that it should not be to Switzerland.

When Alice was first asked where she wished to go, she simply suggested that it should not be to Switzerland.


They did, in truth, go by slow stages to Italy, to Venice, Florence, and on to Rome; but such had not been their intention when they first started on their journey. At that time Mr. Grey believed that he would be wanted again in England, down at Silverbridge in Barsetshire, very shortly.

They travelled slowly through Italy to Rome, although that had not been their original intention, because Mr. Grey believed that he would be wanted in England, down at Silverbridge, very shortly.


But before he had married a week he learned that all that was to be postponed.

But he soon learned that things were to be postponed.


The cup of fruition had not yet reached Mr. Palliser's lips.


"There will be no vacancy either in the county or in the borough till Parliament meets."

"There will be no vacancy till Parliament meets."


That had been the message sent by Mr. Palliser to Mr. Grey.

That had been the message sent to him by Mr. Palliser.


Lady Glencora's message to Alice had been rather more full, having occupied three pages of note paper, the last of which had been crossed, but I do not know that it was more explicit. She had abused Lord Brock, had abused Mr. Finespun, and had abused all public things and institutions, because the arrangements as now proposed would be very comfortable to Alice, but would not, as she was pleased to think, be very comfortable to herself.

Lady Glencora's message to Alice had been rather longer, covering three pages; she had abused Lord Brock, had abused Mr. Finespun, and had abused all public things, because the arrangements now proposed would not be very comfortable to herself.


"You can go to Rome and see everything and enjoy yourself, which I was not allowed to do; and all this noise and bother, and crowd of electioneering, will take place down in Barsetshire just when I am in the middle of all my trouble."

"You can go to Rome and see everything and enjoy yourself, which I was not allowed to do; and all this bother of electioneering will take place just when I am in the middle of all my trouble."


There were many very long letters came from Lady Glencora to Rome during the winter,--letters which Alice enjoyed thoroughly, but which she could not but regard as being very indiscreet.

Many very long letters came from Lady Glencora to Rome during the winter - letters which Alice enjoyed thoroughly, but which were very indiscreet.


The Duke was at the Castle during the Christmas week, and the descriptions of the Duke and of his solicitude as to his heir were very comic.

The Duke was at the Castle for Christmas, and Glencora's descriptions of him were very comic.


"He comes and bends over me on the sofa in the most stupendous way, as though a woman to be the mother of his heir must be a miracle in nature.

"He comes and bends over me on the sofa in the most stupendous way, as though a woman who may the mother of his heir must be a miracle.


He is quite awful when he says a word or two, and more awful in his silence.


The devil prompted me the other day, and I said I hoped it would be a girl.

The other day the devil prompted to say that I hoped it would be a girl.


There was a look came over his face which nearly frightened me.

The look on his face nearly frightened me.


If it should be, I believe he will turn me out of the house; but how can I help it?

If it is a girl, I believe he will turn me out of the house; but how can I help it?


I wish you were going to have a baby at the same time.


Then, if yours was a boy and mine a girl, we'd make a change."

Then, if yours was a boy and mine a girl, we'd exchange."


This was very indiscreet. Lady Glencora would write indiscreet letters like this, which Alice could not show to her husband.

This was very indiscreet, and it was a pity Alice could not show it to her husband.


But December and January wore themselves away, and the time came in which the Greys were bound to return to England.

But December and January wore themselves away, and the time came for the Greys to return to England.


The husband had very fully discussed with his wife that matter of his parliamentary ambition, and found in her a very ready listener.

The husband had discussed his parliamentary ambition with his wife, and found her a very ready listener.


Having made up his mind to do this thing, he was resolved to do it thoroughly, and was becoming almost as full of politics, almost as much devoted to sugar, as Mr. Palliser himself.

Having made up his mind to do this, he was resolved to do it thoroughly, and was becoming almost as full of politics as Mr. Palliser himself.


He at any rate could not complain that his wife would not interest herself in his pursuits.


Then, as they returned, came letters from Lady Glencora, written as her troubles grew nigh.


The Duke had gone, of course; but he was to be there at the appointed time.


"Oh, I do so wish he would have a fit of the gout in London,--or at Timbuctoo," said Lady Glencora.


When they reached London they first heard the news from Mr. Vavasor, who on this occasion condescended to meet them at the railway.

Then, when they reached London, they heard the news from Mr. Vavasor, who met them at the railway.


"The Duke has got an heir," he said, before the carriage-door was open;--"born this morning!"

"The Duke has got an heir," he said, before the carriage-door was open; "born this morning!"


One might have supposed that it was the Duke's baby, and not the baby of Lady Glencora and Mr. Palliser.

One might have supposed that it was the Duke's baby, and not Lady Glencora's and Mr. Palliser's.


There was a note from Mr. Palliser to Mr. Grey.


said the note, "Lady Glencora and the boy"--Mr. Palliser had scorned to use the word child--"Lady Glencora and the boy are quite as well as can be expected.

it said, "Lady Glencora and the boy are quite as well as can be expected.


Both the new writs were moved for last night."


Mr. Palliser's honours, as will be seen, came rushing upon him all at once.

Mr. Palliser's honours came rushing upon him all at once.


Wondrous little baby,--_purpureo genitus!_ What have the gods not done for thee, if thou canst only manage to live till thy good things are all thine own,--to live through all the terrible solicitude with which they will envelope thee!


Better than royal rank will be thine, with influence more than royal, and power of action fettered by no royalty.

Better than royal rank will be thine, with influence more than royal.


Royal wealth which will be really thine own, to do with it as it beseemeth thee.


Thou wilt be at the top of an aristocracy in a country where aristocrats need gird themselves with no buckram.


All that the world can give will be thine; and yet when we talk of thee religiously, philosophically, or politico-economically, we are wont to declare that thy chances of happiness are no better,--no better, if they be no worse,--than are those of thine infant neighbour just born, in that farmyard cradle.

All that the world can give will be thine; and yet when we talk of thee, we are wont to declare that thy chances of happiness are no better than those of thine infant neighbour, in the farmyard cradle.


Who shall say that they are better or that they are worse?

Who shall say that they are better or worse?


Or if they be better, or if they be worse, how shall we reconcile to ourselves that seeming injustice?

And how shall we reconcile to ourselves that seeming injustice?


And now we will pay a little visit to the small one born in the purple, and the story of that visit shall be the end of our history.

And now we will pay a little visit to the small one, to end our history.


It was early in April, quite early in April, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey were both at Gatherum Castle. Mrs. Grey was there at the moment of which we write, but Mr. Grey was absent at Silverbridge with Mr. Palliser.

It was early in April, when Mrs. Grey was at Gatherum Castle, but Mr. Grey was absent at Silverbridge with Mr. Palliser.


This was the day of the Silverbridge election, and Mr. Grey had gone to that ancient borough, to offer himself as a candidate to the electors, backed by the presence and aid of a very powerful member of the Cabinet.

This was the day of the Silverbridge election.


Lady Glencora and Alice were sitting up-stairs with the small, purple-born one in their presence, and the small, purple-born one was lying in Alice's lap.

Lady Glencora and Alice were sitting upstairs with the small, noble-born one lying in Alice's lap.


"It is such a comfort that it is over," said the mother.


You won't lie awake trembling how on earth you will bear your disgrace if one of the vile weaker sex should come to disturb the hopes of your lords and masters;--for I had two, which made it so much more terrible."

You won't lie awake trembling how on earth you will bear your disgrace if it should be a girl."


"I'm sure Mr. Palliser would not have said a word."


"No, he would have said nothing,--nor would the Duke.

"No, he would have said nothing, nor would the Duke.


The Duke would simply have gone away instantly, and never have seen me again till the next chance comes,--if it ever does come.

The Duke would simply have gone away instantly, and never have seen me again till the next chance comes - if it ever does come.


And Mr. Palliser would have been as gentle as a dove;--much more gentle than he is now, for men are rarely gentle in their triumph.

And Mr. Palliser would have been as gentle as a dove.


But I should have known what they both thought and felt."


"Yes, my bonny boy,--you have made it all right for me;--have you not?"

"Yes, my bonny boy, you have made it all right for me; have you not?"


And Lady Glencora took her baby into her own arms.


"You have made everything right, my little man. But oh, Alice, if you had seen the Duke's long face through those three days; if you had heard the tones of the people's voices as they whispered about me; if you had encountered the oppressive cheerfulness of those two London doctors,--doctors are such bad actors,--you would have thought it impossible for any woman to live throughout.

"But, oh, Alice, if you had seen the Duke's long face through those three days; if you had heard the oppressive cheerfulness of those two London doctors - doctors are such bad actors - you would have thought it impossible for any woman to live through it. But you have made everything right, my little man."


There's one comfort;--if my mannikin lives, I can't have another eldest.


He looks like living;--don't he, Alice?"