And as regards Mr. Palliser, I think that his married life, and the wife, whom he certainly had not chosen, but who had dropped upon him, suited him admirably. He wanted great wealth for that position at which he aimed. He had been rich before his marriage with his own wealth,--so rich that he could throw thousands away if he wished it; but for him and his career was needed that colossal wealth which would make men talk about it,--which would necessitate an expansive expenditure, reaching far and wide, doing nothing, or less than nothing, for his own personal comfort, but giving to him at once that rock-like solidity which is so necessary to our great aristocratic politicians. And his wife was, as far as he knew, all that he desired. He had not dabbled much in the fountains of Venus, though he had forgotten himself once, and sinned in coveting another man's wife. But his sin then had hardly polluted his natural character, and his desire had been of a kind which was almost more gratified in its disappointment than it would have been in its fruition. On the morning after the lady had frowned on him he had told himself that he was very well out of that trouble. He knew that it would never be for him to hang up on the walls of a temple a well-worn lute as a votive offering when leaving the pursuits of love. _Idoneus puellis_ he never could have been. So he married Lady Glencora and was satisfied. The story of Burgo Fitzgerald was told to him, and he supposed that most girls had some such story to tell. He thought little about it, and by no means understood her when she said to him, with all the impressiveness which she could throw into the words, "You must know that I have really loved him." "You must love me now," he had replied with a smile; and then as regarded his mind, the thing was over. And since his marriage he had thought that things matrimonial had gone well with him, and with her too. He gave her almost unlimited power of enjoying her money, and interfered but little in her way of life. Sometimes he would say a word of caution to her with reference to those childish ways which hardly became the dull dignity of his position; and his words then would have in them something of unintentional severity,--whether instigated or not by the red-haired Radical Member of Parliament, I will not pretend to say;--but on the whole he was contented and loved his wife, as he thought, very heartily, and at least better than he loved any one else. One cause of unhappiness, or rather one doubt as to his entire good fortune, was beginning to make itself felt, as his wife had to her sorrow already discovered. He had hoped that before this he might have heard that she would give him a child. But the days were young yet for that trouble, and the care had not become a sorrow.

And as regards Mr. Palliser, I think that his married life, and the wife whom he had not chosen, but who had dropped upon him, suited him admirably. He needed great wealth for that position at which he aimed. He had been rich before his marriage; but for his career he needed that colossal wealth which would give him the rock-like solidity which is so necessary to our great aristocratic politicians.
And his wife was, as far as he knew, all that he desired. He had not dabbled much in love, though he had forgotten himself once, and sinned in coveting another man's wife. But his desire had been of a kind which was almost thankful for its disappointment. After the lady had frowned on him he had told himself that he was very well out of that trouble. So he married Lady Glencora and was satisfied.
The story of Burgo Fitzgerald was told to him, and he supposed that most girls had some such story to tell. He thought little about it, and did not understood her when she said to him, as impressively as she could, "You must know that I really loved him."
"You must love me now," he had replied with a smile; and then he forgot about it. Since his marriage he had thought that things matrimonial had gone well with him, and with her too. He gave her almost unlimited power of enjoying her money, and interfered little in her way of life. Sometimes he would say a word of caution to her about her childish ways; and his words would hold some unintentional severity - whether instigated or not by the red-haired Member of Parliament, I will not say - but on the whole he was contented and loved his wife, as he thought, very heartily, and at least better than he loved anyone else.
One cause of care was beginning to make itself felt: he had hoped that his wife might soon give him a child. But the days were young, and the care had not become a sorrow.
