Kate and Alice, as they drew near to their journey's end, were both a little flurried, and I cannot but own that there was cause for nervousness. Kate Vavasor was to meet Mr. Grey for the first time. Mr. Grey was now staying at Matching and was to remain there until a week of his marriage. He was then to return to Cambridgeshire for a day or two, and after that was to become a guest at the rector's house at Matching the evening before the ceremony. "Why not let him come here at once?" Lady Glencora had said to her husband. "It is such nonsense, you know." But Mr. Palliser would not hear of it. Mr. Palliser, though a Radical in public life, would not for worlds transgress the social laws of his ancestors; and so the matter was settled. Kate on this very day of her arrival at Matching would thus see Mr. Grey for the first time, and she could not but feel that she had been the means of doing Mr. Grey much injury. She had moreover something,--not much indeed, but still something,--of that feeling which made the Pallisers terrible to the imagination, because of their rank and wealth. She was a little afraid of the Pallisers, but of Mr. Grey she was very much afraid. And Alice also was not at her ease. She would fain have prevented so very quick a marriage had she not felt that now,--after all the trouble that she had caused,--there was nothing left for her but to do as others wished. When a day had been named she had hardly dared to demur, and had allowed Lady Glencora to settle everything as she had wished. But it was not only the suddenness of her marriage which dismayed her. Its nature and attributes were terrible to her. Both Lady Midlothian and the Marchioness of Auld Reekie were coming. When this was told to her by letter she had no means of escape. "Lady Macleod is right in nearly all that she says," Lady Glencora had written to her. "At any rate, you needn't be such a fool as to run away from your cousins, simply because they have handles to their names. You must take the thing as it comes." Lady Glencora, moreover, had settled for her the list of bridesmaids. Alice had made a petition that she might be allowed to go through the ceremony with only one,--with none but Kate to back her. But she ought to have known that when she consented to be married at Matching,--and indeed she had had very little power of resisting that proposition,--all such questions would be decided for her. Two daughters therefore of Lady Midlothian were to act, Lady Jane and Lady Mary, and the one daughter of the Marchioness, who was also a Lady Jane, and there were to be two Miss Howards down from London,--girls who were known both to Alice and to Lady Glencora, and who were in some distant way connected with them both. A great attempt was made to induce the two Miss Pallisers to join the bevy, but they had frankly pleaded their age. "No woman should stand up as a bridesmaid," said the strong-minded Sophy, "who doesn't mean to get married if she can. Now I don't mean to get married, and I won't put myself among the young people." Lady Glencora was therefore obliged to submit to do the work with only six. But she swore that they should be very smart. She was to give all the dresses, and Mr. Palliser was to give a brooch and an armlet to each. "She is the only person in the world I want to pet, except yourself," Lady Glencora had said to her husband, and he had answered by giving her _carte blanche_ as regards expense.
[Illustration: Alice and her bridesmaids.]
All this was very terrible to Kate, who had not much feminine taste for finery. Of the dress she had heard,--of the dress which was waiting at Matching to be made up after her arrival,--though as yet she knew nothing of the trinkets. There are many girls who could submit themselves at a moment to the kindness of such a woman as Lady Glencora. Perhaps most girls would do so, for of all such women in the world, Lady Glencora was the least inclined to patronize or to be condescending in her kindnesses. But Kate Vavasor was one to whom such submission would not come easily.
"I wish I was out of this boat," she said to Alice in the train.
"So that I might be shipwrecked alone!"
"No; there can be no shipwreck to you. When the day of action comes you will be taken away, up to heaven, upon the clouds. But what are they to do with me?"
"You'll find that Glencora will not desert you. You can't conceive what taste she has."
"I'd sooner be bridesmaid to Charlie Fairstairs. I would indeed. My place in the world is not among Cabinet Ministers and old countesses."
"Nor mine."
"Yes; it seems that yours is to be there. They are your cousins, and you have made at any rate one great friend among them,--one who is to be the biggest of them all."
"And you are going to throw me over, Kate?"
"To tell the truth, Alice, I sometimes think you had better throw me over. I know it would be sad,--sad for both, but perhaps it would be better. I have done you much harm and no good; and now where I am going I shall disgrace you." She talked even of getting out at some station and returning, and would have done so had not Alice made it impossible. As it was, the evening found her and Alice together entering the park-gate at Matching, in Lady Glencora's carriage. Lady Glencora had sent a note to the station. "She could not come herself," she said, "because Mr. Palliser was a little fussy. You'll understand, dear, but don't say a word." Alice didn't say a word, having been very anxious not to lower Mr. Palliser in her cousin's respect.
None of the Lady Janes and Lady Marys were at Matching when they arrived. Indeed, there was no guest there but Mr. Grey, for which Kate felt herself to be extremely grateful. Mr. Grey came into the hall, standing behind Mr. Palliser, who stood behind his wife. Alice passed by them both, and was at once in her lover's arms. "Then I must introduce myself," said Lady Glencora to Kate, "and my husband also." This she did, and no woman in England could have excelled her in the manner of doing it. "I have heard so much about you," said she, still keeping Kate's hand, "and I know how good you've been;--and how wicked you have been," she added in a whisper. Then Mr. Grey was brought up to her, and they were introduced. It was not till some days had passed over them that she felt herself at all at her ease with Mr. Grey, and I doubt whether she ever reached that point with Mr. Palliser; but Lady Glencora she knew, and liked, and almost loved, from the first moment of their meeting.
"Have you heard the news?" said Lady Glencora to Alice, the first minute that they were alone. Alice, of course, had not heard the news. "Mr. Bott is going to marry Mrs. Marsham. There is such a row about it. Plantagenet is nearly mad. I never knew him so disgusted in my life. Of course I don't dare to tell him so, but I am so heartily rejoiced. You know how I love them both, and I could not possibly wish any better reward for either." Alice, who had personally known more of Mr. Bott than of Mrs. Marsham, said that she couldn't but be sorry for the lady. "She's old enough to be his mother," said Lady Glencora, "otherwise I really don't know any people better suited to each other. The best is, that Mr. Bott is doing it to regain his footing with Mr. Palliser! I am sure of that;--and Plantagenet will never speak to him again. But, Alice, there is other news."
"What other news?"
"It is hardly news yet, and of course I am very wicked to tell you. But I feel sure Mr. Grey knows all about it, and if I didn't tell, he would."
"He hasn't told me anything yet."
"He hasn't had time; and when he does, you mustn't pretend to know. I believe Mr. Palliser will certainly be Chancellor of the Exchequer before next month, and, if so, he'll never come in for Silverbridge again."
"But he'll be in Parliament; will he not?"
"Oh, yes; he'll be in Parliament. I don't understand all about it. There is a man going out for the county,--for Barsetshire,--some man whom the Duke used to favour, and he wants Plantagenet to come in for that. I can't understand what difference it makes."
"But he will be in the Cabinet?"
"Oh, yes. But who do you suppose is to be the new Member for Silverbridge?"
"I can't guess," said Alice. Though, of course, she did guess.
"Mind, I don't know it. He has never told me. But he told me that he had been with the Duke, and asked the Duke to let Jeffrey have the seat. The Duke became as black as thunder, and said that Jeffrey had no fortune. In short, he wouldn't hear of it. Poor Jeffrey! we must try to do something for him, but I really don't know how. Then the Duke said, that Plantagenet should put in for Silverbridge some friend who would support himself; and I fancy,--mind it's only fancy,--but I fancy that Plantagenet mentioned to his Grace--one Mr. Grey."
"Oh, Glencora!"
"They've been talking together till sometimes I think Mr. Grey is worse than Plantagenet. When Mr. Grey began to say something the other night in the drawing-room about sugar, I knew it was all up with you. He'll be a financial Secretary; you see if he isn't; or a lord of something, or an under-somebody of State; and then some day he'll go mad, either because he does or because he doesn't get into the Cabinet." Lady Glencora, as she said all this, knew well that the news she was giving would please her cousin better than any other tidings that could be told.
By degrees the guests came. The two Miss Howards were the first, and they expressed themselves as delighted with Lady Glencora's taste and with Mr. Palliser's munificence,--for at that time the brooches and armlets had been produced. Kate had said very little about these matters, but the Miss Howards were loud in their thanks. But they were good-humoured, merry girls, and the house was pleasanter after their arrival than it had been before. Then came the dreaded personage,--the guest,--Lady Midlothian! On the subject of Lady Midlothian Kate had really become curious. She had a real desire to see the face and gait of the woman, and to hear her voice. Lady Midlothian came, and with her came Lady Jane and Lady Mary. I am by no means sure that Lady Jane and Lady Mary were not nearly as old as the two Miss Pallisers; but they were not probably so fully resolved as to the condition of their future modes of living as were those two ladies, and if so, they were not wrong to shine as bridesmaids. With them Alice had made some slight acquaintance during the last spring in London, and as they were now to attend upon her as the bride they were sufficiently gracious. To Kate, too, they were civil enough, and things, in public, went on very pleasantly at Matching.
A scene there was, of course, between Alice and Lady Midlothian;--a scene in private. "You must go through it," Lady Glencora had said, with jocose mournfulness; "and why should you not let her jump upon you a little? It can't hurt you now."
"But I don't like people to jump upon me," Alice said.
"And why are you to have everything just as you like it? You are so unreasonable. Think how I've been jumped on! Think what I have borne from them! If you knew the things she used to say to me, you would not be such a coward. I was sent down to her for a week, and had no power of helping myself. And the Marchioness used to be sent for to look at me, for she never talks. She used to look at me, and groan, and hold up her hands till I hated her the worst of the two. Think what they did to me, and yet they are my dear friends now. Why should you escape altogether?"
Alice could not escape altogether, and therefore was closeted with Lady Midlothian for the best part of an hour. "Did Lady Macleod read to you what I wrote?" the Countess asked.
"Yes,--that is, she gave me the letter to read."
"And I hope you understand me, Alice?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose so."
"You suppose so, my dear! If you only suppose so I shall not be contented. I want you to appreciate my feelings towards you thoroughly. I want you to know that I am most anxious as to your future life, and that I am thoroughly satisfied with the step you are now taking." The Countess paused, but Alice said nothing. Her tongue was itching to tell the old woman that she cared nothing for this expression of satisfaction; but she was aware that she had done much that was deserving of punishment, and resolved to take this as part of her penance. She was being jumped upon, and it was unpleasant; but, after all that had happened, it was only fitting that she should undergo much unpleasantness. "Thoroughly satisfied," continued the Countess; "and now, I only wish to refer, in the slightest manner possible, to what took place between us when we were both of us under this roof last winter."
"Why refer to it at all, Lady Midlothian?"
"Because I think it may do good, and because I cannot make you understand that I have thoroughly forgiven everything, unless I tell you that I have forgiven that also. On that occasion I had come all the way from Scotland on purpose to say a few words to you."
"I am so sorry that you should have had the trouble."
"I do not regret it, Alice. I never do regret doing anything which I believe to have been my duty. There is no knowing how far what I said then may have operated for good." Alice thought that she knew very well, but she said nothing. "I must confess that what I then understood to be your obstinacy,--and I must say also, if I tell the truth, your indifference to--to--to all prudential considerations whatever, not to talk of appearances and decorum, and I might say, anything like a high line of duty or moral conduct,--shocked me very much. It did, indeed, my dear. Taking it altogether, I don't know that I was ever more shocked in my life. The thing was so inscrutable!" Here Lady Midlothian held up one hand in a manner that was truly imposing; "so inscrutable! But that is all over now. What was personally offensive to myself I could easily forgive, and I do forgive it. I shall never think of it any more." Here Lady Midlothian put up both her hands gently, as though wafting the injury away into the air. "But what I wish specially to say to you is this; your own conduct is forgiven also!" Here she paused again, and Alice winced. Who was this dreadful old Countess;--what was the Countess to her, that she should be thus tormented with the old woman's forgiveness? John Grey had forgiven her, and of external forgiveness that was enough. She had not forgiven herself,--would never forgive herself altogether; and the pardon of no old woman in England could assist her in doing so. She had sinned, but she had not sinned against Lady Midlothian. "Let her jump upon you, and have done with it," Lady Glencora had said. She had resolved that it should be so, but it was very hard to keep her resolution.
"The Marchioness and I have talked it over," continued Lady Midlothian, "and she has asked me to speak for both her and myself." There is comfort at any rate in that, thought Alice, who had never yet seen the Marchioness. "We have resolved that all those little mistakes should be as though they had never been committed. We shall both be most happy to receive you and your husband, who is, I must say, one of the most gentlemanlike looking men I ever saw. It seems that he and Mr. Palliser are on most friendly,--I may say, most confidential terms, and that must be quite a pleasure to you."
"It's a pleasure to him, which is more to the purpose," said Alice.
"Exactly so. And now, my dear, everything is forgiven and shall be forgotten. Come and give me a kiss, and let me wish you joy." Alice did as she was bidden, and accepted the kiss and the congratulations, and a little box of jewellery which Lady Midlothian produced from out of her pocket. "The diamonds are from the Marchioness, my dear, whose means, as you doubtless are aware, greatly exceed my own. The garnets are from me. I hope they may both be worn long and happily."
I hardly know which was the worst, the lecture, the kiss, or the present. The latter she would have declined, had it been possible; but it was not possible. When she had agreed to be married at Matching she had not calculated the amount of punishment which would thereby be inflicted on her. But I think that, though she bore it impatiently, she was aware that she had deserved it. Although she fretted herself greatly under the infliction of Lady Midlothian, she acknowledged to herself, even at the time, that she deserved all the lashes she received. She had made a fool of herself in her vain attempt to be greater and grander than other girls, and it was only fair that her folly should be in some sort punished before it was fully pardoned. John Grey punished it after one fashion; by declining to allude to it, or to think of it, or to take any account of it. And now Lady Midlothian had punished it after another fashion, and Alice went out of the Countess's presence with sundry inward exclamations of "mea culpa," and with many unseen beatings of the breast.
Two days before the ceremony came the Marchioness and her august daughter. Her Lady Jane was much more august than the other Lady Jane;--very much more august indeed. She had very long flaxen hair, and very light blue eyes, which she did not move frequently, and she spoke very little,--one may almost say not at all, and she never seemed to do anything. But she was very august, and was, as all the world knew, engaged to marry the Duke of Dumfriesshire, who, though twice her own age, was as yet childless, as soon as he should have completed his mourning for his first wife. Kate told her cousin that she did not at all know how she should ever stand up as one in a group with so august a person as this Lady Jane, and Alice herself felt that such an attendant would quite obliterate her. But Lady Jane and her mother were both harmless. The Marchioness never spoke to Kate and hardly spoke to Alice, and the Marchioness's Lady Jane was quite as silent as her mother.
On the morning of this day,--the day on which these very august people came,--a telegram arrived at the Priory calling for Mr. Palliser's immediate presence in London. He came to Alice full of regret, and behaved himself very nicely. Alice now regarded him quite as a friend. "Of course I understand," she said, "and I know that the business which takes you up to London pleases you." "Well; yes;--it does please me. I am glad,--I don't mind saying so to you. But it does not please me to think that I shall be away at your marriage. Pray make your father understand that it was absolutely unavoidable. But I shall see him, of course, when I come back. And I shall see you too before very long."
"Shall you?"
"Oh yes."
"And why so?"
"Because Mr. Grey must be at Silverbridge for his election.--But perhaps I ought not tell you his secrets." Then he took her into the breakfast-parlour and showed her his present. It was a service of Svres china,--very precious and beautiful. "I got you these things because Grey likes china."
"So do I like china," said she, with her face brighter than he had ever yet seen it.
"I thought you would like them best," said he. Alice looking up at him with her eyes full of tears told him that she did like them best; and then, as he wished her all happiness, and as he was stooping over her to kiss her, Lady Glencora came in.
"I beg pardon," said she, "I was just one minute too soon; was I not?"
"She would have them sent here and unpacked," said Mr. Palliser, "though I told her it was foolish."
"Of course I would," said Lady Glencora. "Everything shall be unpacked and shown. It's easy to get somebody to pack them again."
Much of the wedding tribute had already been deposited with the china, and among other things there were the jewels that Lady Midlothian had brought.
"Upon my word, her ladyship's diamonds are not to be sneezed at," said Lady Glencora.
"I don't care for diamonds," said Alice.
Then Lady Glencora took up the Countess's trinkets, and shook her head and turned up her nose. There was a wonderfully comic expression on her face as she did so.
"To me they are just as good as the others," said Alice.
"To me they are not, then," said Lady Glencora. "Diamonds are diamonds, and garnets are garnets; and I am not so romantic but what I know the difference."
On the evening before the marriage Alice and Lady Glencora walked for the last time through the Priory ruins. It was now September, and the evenings were still long, so that the ladies could get out upon the lawn after dinner. Whether Lady Glencora would have been allowed to walk through the ruins so late as half-past eight in the evening if her husband had been there may be doubtful, but her husband was away and she took this advantage of his absence.
"Do you remember that night we were here?" said Lady Glencora.
"When shall I forget it; or how is it possible that such a night should ever be forgotten?"
"No; I shall never forget it. Oh dear, what wonderful things have happened since that! Do you ever think of Jeffrey?"
"Yes;--of course I think of him. I did like him so much. I hope I shall see him some day."
"And he liked you too, young woman; and, what was more, young woman, I thought at one time that, perhaps, you were going to like him in earnest."
"Not in that way, certainly."
"You've done much better, of course; especially as poor Jeffrey's chance of promotion doesn't look so good now. If I have a boy, I wonder whether he'll hate me?"
"Why should he hate you?"
"I can't help it, you know, if he does. Only think what it is to Plantagenet. Have you seen the difference it makes in him already?"
"Of course it makes a difference;--the greatest difference in the world."
"And think what it will be to me, Alice. I used to lie in bed and wish myself dead, and make up my mind to drown myself,--if I could only dare. I shan't think any more of that poor fellow now." Then she told Alice what had been done for Burgo; how his uncle had paid his bills once again, and had agreed to give him a small income. "Poor fellow!" said Lady Glencora, "it won't do more than buy him gloves, you know."
The marriage was magnificent, greatly to the dismay of Alice and to the discomfort of Mr. Vavasor, who came down on the eve of the ceremony,--arriving while his daughter and Lady Glencora were in the ruins. Mr. Grey seemed to take it all very easily, and, as Lady Glencora said, played his part exactly as though he were in the habit of being married, at any rate, once a year. "Nothing on earth will ever put him out, so you need not try, my dear," she said, as Alice stood with her a moment alone in the dressing-room up-stairs before her departure.
"I know that," said Alice, "and therefore I shall never try."
xxxxxxxxxx

Kate and Alice, as they drew near to their journey's end, were both a little flurried and nervous. Kate was to meet Mr. Grey for the first time. He was now staying at Matching and was to remain there until a week before his marriage. He would then return to Cambridgeshire for a day or two, and after that was to be a guest at the rector's house at Matching the evening before the ceremony.
"Why not let him come here at once?" Lady Glencora had said to her husband. "It is such nonsense, you know." But Mr. Palliser, though a Radical in public life, would not for worlds transgress the social laws of his ancestors.
Kate could not help feeling that she had been the means of doing Mr. Grey much injury. She was awed by the Pallisers, because of their rank and wealth; but of Mr. Grey she was very much afraid.
And Alice also was not at her ease. Both Lady Midlothian and the Marchioness of Auld Reekie were coming, and she had no means of escape.
"Lady Macleod is right in nearly all that she says," Lady Glencora had written to her. "At any rate, you needn't be such a fool as to run away from your cousins, simply because they have titles."
Lady Glencora, moreover, had settled the list of bridesmaids. Alice had asked that she might have only one - Kate. But she should have known that when she consented to be married at Matching, all such questions would be decided for her. So two daughters of Lady Midlothian were to act, Lady Jane and Lady Mary, and the daughter of the Marchioness, who was also a Lady Jane, and there were to be two Miss Howards who were distant relations. Lady Glencora swore that the bridesmaids should be very smart. She was to give all the dresses, and Mr. Palliser was to give a brooch and an armlet to each.
All this was very terrible to Kate, who had not much taste for finery. There was a dress waiting at Matching to be made up after her arrival, though as yet she knew nothing of the trinkets. Although Lady Glencora was not inclined to patronize or condescend in her kindnesses, Kate Vavasor was one to whom such submission would not come easily.
"I wish I was out of this boat," she said to Alice in the train.
"So that I might be shipwrecked alone!"
"No; there can be no shipwreck for you. But what are they to do with me? I'd sooner be bridesmaid to Charlie Fairstairs. My place in the world is not among Cabinet Ministers and countesses."
"Nor mine."
"Yes; they are your cousins, and you have made one great friend at least among them."
"Are you going to throw me over, Kate?"
"To tell the truth, Alice, I sometimes think you had better throw me over. I know it would be sad, but perhaps it would be better. I have done you much harm and no good; and now I shall disgrace you." She even talked of getting out at some station, and would have done so if Alice had not made it impossible.
As it was, that evening they entered the park-gate at Matching in Lady Glencora's carriage. None of the Lady Janes and Lady Marys were there when they arrived. Indeed, there was no guest but Mr. Grey, for which Kate felt extremely grateful. Mr. Grey came into the hall behind Mr. Palliser, and Alice was at once in her lover's arms.
"I must introduce myself," said Lady Glencora to Kate, "and my husband also. I have heard so much about you, and I know how good you've been; and how wicked you have been," she added in a whisper.
Then Mr. Grey was brought up to her, and they were introduced. It was not for some days that she felt at her ease with Mr. Grey, and I doubt whether she ever reached that point with Mr. Palliser; but Lady Glencora she knew, and liked, and almost loved, from the first moment of their meeting.
"Have you heard the news?" said Lady Glencora to Alice, the first minute that they were alone. Alice, of course, had not heard the news. "Mr. Bott is going to marry Mrs. Marsham. There is such a row about it. Plantagenet is nearly mad. I never knew him so disgusted in my life. Of course I don't dare to tell him, but I am so happy. You know how I love them both, and I could not wish any better reward for either."
Alice, who had known more of Mr. Bott than of Mrs. Marsham, said that she was sorry for the lady.
"She's old enough to be his mother," said Lady Glencora, "otherwise I really don't know any people better suited to each other. The best of it is, that Mr. Bott is doing it to regain his footing with Mr. Palliser! I am sure of that - and Plantagenet will never speak to him again. But, Alice, there is other news."
"What other news?"
"It is hardly news yet, and of course I am very wicked to tell you. But I feel sure Mr. Grey knows all about it, and if he tells you, you must pretend not to know. I believe Mr. Palliser will certainly be Chancellor of the Exchequer before next month, and, if so, he'll never stand for Silverbridge again."
"But he'll be in Parliament; will he not?"
"Oh, yes; he'll be in Parliament. I don't understand all about it. There is a man going out for Barsetshire, and the Duke wants Plantagenet to stand there. I can't understand what difference it makes."
"But he will be in the Cabinet?"
"Oh, yes. But who do you suppose is to be the new Member for Silverbridge?"
"I can't guess," said Alice. Though, of course, she did guess.
"Mind, I don't know it. But he told me that he had been with the Duke, and asked the Duke to let Jeffrey have the seat. The Duke became as black as thunder, and said that Jeffrey had no fortune. He wouldn't hear of it. Poor Jeffrey! we must try to do something for him, but I really don't know how. Then the Duke said that Plantagenet should put in for Silverbridge some friend who would support himself; and I think that Plantagenet mentioned - one Mr. Grey."
"Oh, Glencora!"
"They've been talking together till sometimes I think Mr. Grey is worse than Plantagenet. He'll be a financial Secretary; you see if he isn't; or an under-somebody of State; and then some day he'll go mad, either because he does or doesn't get into the Cabinet." Lady Glencora, as she said all this, knew well that the news she was giving would please her cousin better than any other.
The guests came: the two Miss Howards first, who expressed themselves delighted with Lady Glencora's taste and with Mr. Palliser's generosity with the trinkets. Kate had said very little about these, but the Miss Howards were loud in their thanks. They were good-humoured, merry girls, and the house was pleasanter after their arrival.
Then came the dreaded Lady Midlothian! Kate had really become curious about her. Lady Midlothian came, and with her came Lady Jane and Lady Mary, and as they were to be Alice's bridesmaids they were gracious to her. To Kate, too, they were civil enough, and things, in public, went on very pleasantly at Matching.
Of course there was a scene in private between Alice and Lady Midlothian.
"You must go through it," Lady Glencora had said, with joking mournfulness; "and why should you not let her jump upon you a little? It can't hurt you now."
"But I don't like people to jump upon me," Alice said.
"Why are you to have everything just as you like it? Think how I've been jumped on! If you knew the things she used to say to me, you would not be such a coward. And the Marchioness used to look at me, and groan, and hold up her hands till I hated her the worse of the two. Yet they are my dear friends now. Why should you escape altogether?"
Alice could not escape altogether, and therefore was closeted with Lady Midlothian for the best part of an hour.
"Did Lady Macleod read to you what I wrote?" the Countess asked.
"Yes."
"And I hope you understand me, Alice?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose so."
"You suppose so, my dear! I am most anxious about your future life, and am thoroughly satisfied with the step you are now taking." The Countess paused, but Alice said nothing. She was being jumped upon, and it was unpleasant; but, after all that had happened, it was only fitting that she should undergo much unpleasantness.
"Thoroughly satisfied," continued the Countess; "and now, I only wish to refer, in the slightest manner possible, to what took place between us last winter."
"Why refer to it at all, Lady Midlothian?"
"Because I think it may do good, and because I wish to tell you that I have forgiven that also. On that occasion I had come all the way from Scotland on purpose to say a few words to you."
"I am so sorry that you should have had the trouble."
"I do not regret it, Alice. I never do regret doing anything which I believe to be my duty. I must confess that what I then understood to be your obstinacy, and in truth, your indifference to all prudential considerations, shocked me very much. It did, indeed, my dear. I don't know that I was ever more shocked in my life!" Here Lady Midlothian held up one hand in an imposing manner. "But that is all over now. I forgive and forget it. I shall never think of it any more."
Here Lady Midlothian put up both her hands as though wafting the injury away into the air. "But what I wish specially to say to you is this; your own conduct is forgiven also!" Here she paused again, and Alice winced. What was the Countess to her, that she should be thus tormented with the old woman's forgiveness? John Grey had forgiven her, and that was enough. She had not forgiven herself; and no old woman in England could help her do so. She had sinned, but not against Lady Midlothian.
"The Marchioness and I have talked it over," continued Lady Midlothian, "and she has asked me to speak for her. We have resolved that all those little mistakes should be as though they had never been committed. We shall both be most happy to receive you and your husband, who is, I must say, one of the most gentlemanly men I ever saw. It seems that he and Mr. Palliser are on most friendly terms, and that must be quite a pleasure to you."
"It's a pleasure to him, which is more to the purpose," said Alice.
"Exactly so. And now, my dear, come and give me a kiss, and let me wish you joy."
Alice accepted the kiss and the congratulations, and a little box of jewellery which Lady Midlothian produced from out of her pocket.
"The diamonds are from the Marchioness, my dear, whose means, as you doubtless are aware, greatly exceed my own. The garnets are from me. I hope they may both be worn long and happily."
I hardly know which was the worst, the lecture, the kiss, or the present. The last Alice would have declined; but it was not possible. Although she fretted greatly under the infliction of Lady Midlothian, she acknowledged to herself that she deserved all the lashes she received. She had made a fool of herself in her vain attempt to be greater and grander than other girls, and it was only fair that her folly should be punished before it was fully pardoned. John Grey punished it after one fashion, by declining to allude to it, or to take any account of it. And now Lady Midlothian had punished it after another fashion.
Two days before the ceremony the Marchioness and her daughter came. Lady Jane was very much more august than the other Lady Jane. She had very long flaxen hair, and very light blue eyes, and she spoke very little, and she never seemed to do anything. But she was very august, and was engaged to marry the Duke of Dumfriesshire, though he was twice her age, as soon as he had completed his mourning for his first wife. But Lady Jane and her mother were both harmless. The Marchioness never spoke to Kate and hardly spoke to Alice, and Lady Jane was quite as silent as her mother.
On the morning after their arrival, a telegram arrived for Mr. Palliser calling for his immediate presence in London. He came, full of regret, to Alice, who now regarded him quite as a friend.
"Of course I understand," she said, "and I know that the business which takes you up to London pleases you."
"Well; yes; it does. But it does not please me to think that I shall be away at your marriage. Pray make your father understand that it was absolutely unavoidable. But I shall see him, of course, when I come back. And I shall see you too before very long."
"Why so?"
"Because Mr. Grey must be at Silverbridge for his election. But perhaps I ought not tell you his secrets." Then he took her into the breakfast-parlour and showed her his present. It was a service of Svres china, very precious and beautiful. "I got you these things because Grey likes china."
"So do I," said she, her face brighter than he had ever yet seen it.
"I thought you would like them best," said he. Alice, looking up at him with her eyes full of tears, told him that she did like them best; and then, as he wished her all happiness, and was stooping over her to kiss her, Lady Glencora came in.
"I beg pardon," said she, "I was just one minute too soon; was I not? All the wedding gifts are displayed here. It's easy to get somebody to pack them again."
Among the wedding gifts were the jewels that Lady Midlothian had brought.
"Upon my word, her ladyship's diamonds are not to be sneezed at," said Lady Glencora.
"I don't care for diamonds," said Alice.
Lady Glencora took up the Countess's trinkets, and shook her head and turned up her nose with a wonderfully comic expression.
"To me they are just as good as the others," said Alice.
"To me they are not," said Lady Glencora. "Diamonds are diamonds, and garnets are garnets."
On the evening before the wedding Alice and Lady Glencora walked for the last time through the Priory ruins. It was now September, and the evenings were still long. Whether Lady Glencora would have been allowed to walk through the ruins at half-past eight in the evening if her husband had been there may be doubtful, but her husband was away.
"Do you remember that night we were here?" said Lady Glencora.
"How could I forget it?"
"Oh dear, what wonderful things have happened since that! Do you ever think of Jeffrey?"
"Yes, of course. I did like him so much. I hope I shall see him some day."
"And he liked you too; and, what was more, I thought at one time that you were going to like him in earnest."
"Not in that way, certainly."
"You've done much better, of course. If I have a boy, I wonder whether Jeffrey will hate me? I can't help it if he does. Only think what it is to Plantagenet. Have you seen the difference it makes in him already?"
"Of course it makes a difference; the greatest difference in the world."
"And think what it will be to me, Alice. I used to wish myself dead. I shan't think any more of that poor fellow now." Then she told Alice what had been done for Burgo. "Poor fellow!" said Lady Glencora, "that allowance won't do more than buy him gloves, you know."
The wedding was magnificent, greatly to the dismay of Alice and to the discomfort of Mr. Vavasor, who arrived while his daughter and Lady Glencora were in the ruins. Mr. Grey seemed to take it all very easily, and, as Lady Glencora said, played his part exactly as though he were in the habit of being married once a year.
"Nothing on earth will ever put him out, so you need not try, my dear," she said, as Alice stood with her a moment alone.
"I know," said Alice, "and therefore I shall never try."


It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here."
"The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement.
"Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady."
"Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife.
"I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening."
"Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered.
"Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine."
"I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet."
Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door.
She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means."
But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire.
She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor.
Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly ungrateful, when that gentleman endeavoured to whisper a word into his ear as he passed through the doorway into Lady Monk's dining-room. And he had offered to go abroad,--to go abroad and leave his politics, and his ambition, and his coming honours. He had persisted in his offer, even after his wife had suggested to him that the Duke of St. Bungay was now in the house with the object of offering him that very thing for which he had so longed! As he thought of this his heart became heavy within him. Such chances,--so he told himself,--do not come twice in a man's way. When returning from a twelvemonth's residence abroad he would be nobody in politics. He would have lost everything for which he had been working all his life. But he was a man of his word, and as he opened the library door he was resolute,--he thought that he could be resolute in adhering to his promise.
"Duke," he said, "I'm afraid I have kept you waiting." And the two political allies shook each other by the hand.
The Duke was in a glow of delight. There had been no waiting. He was only too glad to find his friend at home. He had been prepared to wait, even if Mr. Palliser had been out. "And I suppose you guess why I'm come?" said the Duke.
"I would rather be told than have to guess," said Mr. Palliser, smiling for a moment. But the smile quickly passed off his face as he remembered his pledge to his wife.
"He has resigned at last. What was said in the Lords last night made it necessary that he should do so, or that Lord Brock should declare himself able to support him through thick and thin. Of course, I can tell you everything now. He must have gone, or I must have done so. You know that I don't like him in the Cabinet. I admire his character and his genius, but I think him the most dangerous man in England as a statesman. He has high principles,--the very highest; but they are so high as to be out of sight to ordinary eyes. They are too exalted to be of any use for everyday purposes. He is honest as the sun, I'm sure; but it's just like the sun's honesty,--of a kind which we men below can't quite understand or appreciate. He has no instinct in politics, but reaches his conclusions by philosophical deduction. Now, in politics, I would a deal sooner trust to instinct than to calculation. I think he may probably know how England ought to be governed three centuries hence better than any man living, but of the proper way to govern it now, I think he knows less. Brock half likes him and half fears him. He likes the support of his eloquence, and he likes the power of the man; but he fears his restless activity, and thoroughly dislikes his philosophy. At any rate, he has left us, and I am here to ask you to take his place."
The Duke, as he concluded his speech, was quite contented, and almost jovial. He was thoroughly satisfied with the new political arrangement which he was proposing. He regarded Mr. Palliser as a steady, practical man of business, luckily young, and therefore with a deal of work in him, belonging to the race from which English ministers ought, in his opinion, to be taken, and as being, in some respects, his own pupil. He had been the first to declare aloud that Plantagenet Palliser was the coming Chancellor of the Exchequer; and it had been long known, though no such declaration had been made aloud, that the Duke did not sit comfortably in the same Cabinet with the gentleman who had now resigned. Everything had now gone as the Duke wished; and he was prepared to celebrate some little ovation with his young friend before he left the house in Park Lane.
"And who goes out with him?" asked Mr. Palliser, putting off the evil moment of his own decision; but before the Duke could answer him, he had reminded himself that under his present circumstances he had no right to ask such a question. His own decision could not rest upon that point. "But it does not matter," he said; "I am afraid I must decline the offer you bring me."
"Decline it!" said the Duke, who could not have been more surprised had his friend talked of declining heaven.
"I fear I must." The Duke had now risen from his chair, and was standing, with both his hands upon the table. All his contentment, all his joviality, had vanished. His fine round face had become almost ludicrously long; his eyes and mouth were struggling to convey reproach, and the reproach was almost drowned in vexation. Ever since Parliament had met he had been whispering Mr. Palliser's name into the Prime Minister's ear, and now--. But he could not, and would not, believe it. "Nonsense, Palliser," he said. "You must have got some false notion into your head. There can be no possible reason why you should not join us. Finespun himself will support us, at any rate for a time." Mr. Finespun was the gentleman whose retirement from the ministry the Duke of St. Bungay had now announced.
"It is nothing of that kind," said Mr. Palliser, who perhaps felt himself quite equal to the duties proposed to him, even though Mr. Finespun should not support him. "It is nothing of that kind;--it is no fear of that sort that hinders me."
"Then, for mercy's sake, what is it? My dear Palliser, I looked upon you as being as sure in this matter as myself; and I had a right to do so. You certainly intended to join us a month ago, if the opportunity offered. You certainly did."
"It is true, Duke. I must ask you to listen to me now, and I must tell you what I would not willingly tell to any man." As Mr. Palliser said this a look of agony came over his face. There are men who can talk easily of all their most inmost matters, but he was not such a man. It went sorely against the grain with him to speak of the sorrow of his home, even to such a friend as the Duke; but it was essentially necessary to him that he should justify himself.
"Upon my word," said the Duke, "I can't understand that there should be any reason strong enough to make you throw your party over."
"I have promised to take my wife abroad."
"Is that it?" said the Duke, looking at him with surprise, but at the same time with something of returning joviality in his face. "Nobody thinks of going abroad at this time of the year. Of course, you can get away for a time when Parliament breaks up."
"But I have promised to go at once."
"Then, considering your position, you have made a promise which it behoves you to break. I am sure Lady Glencora will see it in that light."
"You do not quite understand me, and I am afraid I must trouble you to listen to matters which, under other circumstances, it would be impertinent in me to obtrude upon you." A certain stiffness of demeanour, and measured propriety of voice, much at variance with his former manner, came upon him as he said this.
"Of course, Palliser, I don't want to interfere for a moment."
"If you will allow me, Duke. My wife has told me that, this morning, which makes me feel that absence from England is requisite for her present comfort. I was with her when you came, and had just promised her that she should go."
"But, Palliser, think of it. If this were a small matter, I would not press you; but a man in your position has public duties. He owes his services to his country. He has no right to go back, if it be possible that he should so do."
"When a man has given his word, it cannot be right that he should go back from that."
"Of course not. But a man may be absolved from a promise. Lady Glencora--"
"My wife would, of course, absolve me. It is not that. Her happiness demands it, and it is partly my fault that it is so. I cannot explain to you more fully why it is that I must give up the great object for which I have striven with all my strength."
"Oh, no!" said the Duke. "If you are sure that it is imperative--"
"It is imperative."
"I could give you twenty-four hours, you know." Mr. Palliser did not answer at once, and the Duke thought that he saw some sign of hesitation. "I suppose it would not be possible that I should speak to Lady Glencora?"
"It could be of no avail, Duke. She would only declare, at the first word, that she would remain in London; but it would not be the less my duty on that account to take her abroad."
"Well; I can't say. Of course, I can't say. Such an opportunity may not come twice in a man's life. And at your age too! You are throwing away from you the finest political position that the world can offer to the ambition of any man. No one at your time of life has had such a chance within my memory. That a man under thirty should be thought fit to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and should refuse it,--because he wants to take his wife abroad! Palliser, if she were dying, you should remain under such an emergency as this. She might go, but you should remain."
Mr. Palliser remained silent for a moment or two in his chair; he then rose and walked towards the window, as he spoke. "There are things worse than death," he said, when his back was turned. His voice was very low, and there was a tear in his eye as he spoke them; the words were indeed whispered, but the Duke heard them, and felt that he could not press him any more on the subject of his wife.
"And must this be final?" said the Duke.
"I think it must. But your visit here has come so quickly on my resolution to go abroad,--which, in truth, was only made ten minutes before your name was brought to me,--that I believe I ought to ask for a portion of those twenty-four hours which you have offered me. A small portion will be enough. Will you see me, if I come to you this evening, say at eight? If the House is up in the Lords I will go to you in St. James's Square."
"We shall be sitting after eight, I think."
"Then I will see you there. And, Duke, I must ask you to think of me in this matter as a friend should think, and not as though we were bound together only by party feeling."
"I will,--I will."
"I have told you what I shall never whisper to any one else."
"I think you know that you are safe with me."
"I am sure of it. And, Duke, I can tell you that the sacrifice to me will be almost more than I can bear. This thing that you have offered me to-day is the only thing that I have ever coveted. I have thought of it and worked for it, have hoped and despaired, have for moments been vain enough to think that it was within my strength, and have been wretched for weeks together because I have told myself that it was utterly beyond me."
"As to that, neither Brock nor I, nor any of us, have any doubt. Finespun himself says that you are the man."
"I am much obliged to them. But I say all this simply that you may understand how imperative is the duty which, as I think, requires me to refuse the offer."
"But you haven't refused as yet," said the Duke. "I shall wait at the House for you, whether they are sitting or not. And endeavour to join us. Do the best you can. I will say nothing as to that duty of which you speak; but if it can be made compatible with your public service, pray--pray let it be done. Remember how much such a one as you owes to his country." Then the Duke went, and Mr. Palliser was alone.
He had not been alone before since the revelation which had been made to him by his wife, and the words she had spoken were still sounding in his ears. "I do love Burgo Fitzgerald;--I do! I do! I do!" They were not pleasant words for a young husband to hear. Men there are, no doubt, whose nature would make them more miserable under the infliction than it had made Plantagenet Palliser. He was calm, without strong passion, not prone to give to words a stronger significance than they should bear;--and he was essentially unsuspicious. Never for a moment had he thought, even while those words were hissing in his ears, that his wife had betrayed his honour. Nevertheless, there was that at his heart, as he remembered those words, which made him feel that the world was almost too heavy for him. For the first quarter of an hour after the Duke's departure he thought more of his wife and of Burgo Fitzgerald than he did of Lord Brock and Mr. Finespun. But of this he was aware,--that he had forgiven his wife; that he had put his arm round her and embraced her after hearing her confession,--and that she, mutely, with her eyes, had promised him that she would do her best for him. Then something of an idea of love came across his heart, and he acknowledged to himself that he had married without loving or without requiring love. Much of all this had been his own fault. Indeed, had not the whole of it come from his own wrong-doing? He acknowledged that it was so. But now,--now he loved her. He felt that he could not bear to part with her, even if there were no question of public scandal, or of disgrace. He had been torn inwardly by that assertion that she loved another man. She had got at his heart-strings at last. There are men who may love their wives, though they never can have been in love before their marriage.
When the Duke had been gone about an hour, and when, under ordinary circumstances, it would have been his time to go down to the House, he took his hat and walked into the Park. He made his way across Hyde Park, and into Kensington Gardens, and there he remained for an hour, walking up and down beneath the elms. The quidnuncs of the town, who chanced to see him, and who had heard something of the political movements of the day, thought, no doubt, that he was meditating his future ministerial career. But he had not been there long before he had resolved that no ministerial career was at present open to him. "It has been my own fault," he said, as he returned to his house, "and with God's help I will mend it, if it be possible."
But he was a slow man, and he did not go off instantly to the Duke. He had given himself to eight o'clock, and he took the full time. He could not go down to the House of Commons because men would make inquiries of him which he would find it difficult to answer. So he dined at home, alone. He had told his wife that he would see her at nine, and before that hour he would not go to her. He sat alone till it was time for him to get into his brougham, and thought it all over. That seat in the Cabinet and Chancellorship of the Exchequer, which he had so infinitely desired, were already done with. There was no doubt about that. It might have been better for him not to have married; but now that he was married, and that things had brought him untowardly to this pass, he knew that his wife's safety was his first duty. "We will go through Switzerland," he said to himself, "to Baden, and then we will get on to Florence and to Rome. She has seen nothing of all these things yet, and the new life will make a change in her. She shall have her own friend with her." Then he went down to the House of Lords, and saw the Duke.
"Well, Palliser," said the Duke, when he had listened to him, "of course I cannot argue it with you any more. I can only say that I am very sorry;--more sorry than perhaps you will believe. Indeed, it half breaks my heart." The Duke's voice was very sad, and it might almost have been thought that he was going to shed a tear. In truth he disliked Mr. Finespun with the strongest political feeling of which he was capable, and had attached himself to Mr. Palliser almost as strongly. It was a thousand pities! How hard had he not worked to bring about this arrangement, which was now to be upset because a woman had been foolish! "I never above half liked her," said the Duke to himself, thinking perhaps a little of the Duchess's complaints of her. "I must go to Brock at once," he said aloud, "and tell him. God knows what we must do now. Goodbye! good-bye! No; I'm not angry. There shall be no quarrel. But I am very sorry." In this way the two politicians parted.
We may as well follow this political movement to its end. The Duke saw Lord Brock that night, and then those two ministers sent for another minister,--another noble Lord, a man of great experience in Cabinets. These three discussed the matter together, and on the following day Lord Brock got up in the House, and made a strong speech in defence of his colleague, Mr. Finespun. To the end of the Session, at any rate, Mr. Finespun kept his position, and held the seals of the Exchequer while all the quidnuncs of the nation, shaking their heads, spoke of the wonderful power of Mr. Finespun, and declared that Lord Brock did not dare to face the Opposition without him.
In the meantime Mr. Palliser had returned to his wife, and told her of his resolution with reference to their tour abroad. "We may as well make up our minds to start at once," said he. "At any rate, there is nothing on my side to hinder us."

It was the butler who had knocked. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here."
"The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red.
"Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He says that he particularly wants to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady."
"Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." The butler retired. "I must go now, my dear," said Mr. Palliser; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening."
"Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered.
"You won't. You will be dressing for dinner, I suppose, about nine."
"I did not mean that," she said. "You must not think any more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet."
Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door.
She followed him and took hold of him, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her - without kissing her. He did not think that the occasion required it.
"He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means."
But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone, she took out Burgo's letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, she resolved that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master.
I think, however, that she had already decided it, when she had had courage enough to tell her husband about it. She was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself, she did not dare. Therefore she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire.
She had in truth told him everything, believing that she was delivering her own death-warrant regarding her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping for any escape, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unbearable as soon as he showed any kindness.
But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. But the immediate result was that he had been more tender to her than ever before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had tilted with him, and he had been the victor.
Mr. Palliser had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he went upstairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right to forgive her, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized that no more was to be said about the past. There were to be no reproaches, and Mrs. Marsham's close attendance must abate. As for Mr. Bott - he had begun to hate Mr. Bott.
And he had offered to go abroad, and leave his politics, and his ambition, and his coming honours. He had persisted in his offer, even after his wife had suggested to him that the Duke of St. Bungay was in the house to offer him that very thing for which he had so longed! As he thought of this his heart became heavy. Such chances - so he told himself - do not come twice in a man's way. When he returned from abroad he would be nobody in politics. He would have lost everything for which he had been working all his life. But he was a man of his word, and as he opened the library door he thought that he could be resolute in keeping to his promise.
"Duke," he said, "I'm afraid I have kept you waiting." And they shook hands.
The Duke was in a glow of delight. "I suppose you guess why I'm come?" he said. "He has resigned at last. What was said in the Lords last night made it necessary that he should do so. I can tell you everything now. You know that I don't like Finespun in the Cabinet. I admire his character and his genius, but I think him the most dangerous man in England as a statesman. He has high principles, but they are too exalted to be of any use for everyday purposes. He has no instinct in politics, but reaches his conclusions by calculation. I would sooner trust to instinct. I think he may know how England ought to be governed three centuries hence, but not the proper way to govern now. Brock likes his eloquence; but he fears his restlessness, and thoroughly dislikes his philosophy. At any rate, Finespun has left us, and I am here to ask you to take his place."
The Duke was almost jovial. He was thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement which he was proposing. He regarded Mr. Palliser as a steady, practical man, and in some respects, his own pupil. He had been the first to declare aloud that Plantagenet Palliser was the future Chancellor of the Exchequer; and everything had now gone as he wished.
"And who leaves with him?" asked Mr. Palliser, putting off the evil moment of his own decision; but before the Duke could answer, he had reminded himself that he had no right to ask such a question. "It does not matter," he said; "I am afraid I must decline the offer."
"Decline it!"
"I fear I must."
The Duke had now risen from his chair, and was standing with both his hands upon the table. All his joviality had vanished. His fine round face had become almost ludicrously long; his eyes and mouth expressed reproach and vexation. Ever since Parliament had met he had been whispering Mr. Palliser's name into the Prime Minister's ear, and now-
But he could not believe it. "Nonsense, Palliser," he said. "There can be no possible reason why you should not join us. You certainly intended to join us a month ago, if the opportunity offered."
"It is true, Duke. I must ask you to listen to me now, and I must tell you what I would not willingly tell to any man." As Mr. Palliser said this a look of agony came over his face. He was not a man who could talk easily of inmost matters; but it was essential to justify himself.
"Upon my word," said the Duke, "I can't understand that there should be any reason strong enough to make you throw your party over."
"I have promised to take my wife abroad, at once."
"Then you have made a promise which it behoves you to break. I am sure Lady Glencora will see it in that light."
"You do not quite understand me." A certain stiffness of manner came upon him as he said this. "My wife has told me something, this morning, which makes me feel that absence from England is necessary for her present comfort. I have just promised her that she should go."
"But, Palliser, think of it. If this were a small matter, I would not press you; but a man in your position owes his service to his country."
"When a man has given his word, it cannot be right that he should go back from that."
"Of course not. But a man may be absolved from a promise. Lady Glencora-"
"My wife would, of course, absolve me. It is not that. Her happiness demands it, and it is partly my fault that it is so. I cannot explain to you more fully why it is that I must give up the great object for which I have striven with all my strength."
"If you are sure that it is imperative-"
"It is imperative."
"I could give you twenty-four hours, you know."
Mr. Palliser did not answer at once, and the Duke thought that he saw some sign of hesitation. "I suppose it would not be possible that I should speak to Lady Glencora?"
"It could be of no avail, Duke. She would declare that she would remain in London; but it would still be my duty to take her abroad."
"Well; I can't say. Such an opportunity may not come twice in a man's life. You are throwing away the finest political position that the world can offer. No one as young as you has had such a chance within my memory. That a man under thirty should be thought fit to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and should refuse it - because he wants to take his wife abroad! Palliser, if she were dying, you should remain under such an emergency as this. She might go, but you should remain."
Mr. Palliser remained silent for a moment or two; he then rose and walked towards the window.
"There are things worse than death," he said, when his back was turned. His voice was very low, and there was a tear in his eye as he spoke. The Duke felt that he could not press him any more on the subject.
"And must this be final?"
"I think it must. But your visit here has come so quickly after my resolution to go abroad, that I believe I ought to ask for some of those twenty-four hours which you have offered me. May I come to you this evening, say at eight? If the House is up in the Lords I will go to you in St. James's Square."
"We shall be sitting after eight, I think."
"Then I will see you there. And, Duke, I must ask you to think of me in this matter as a friend should think, and not as though we were bound together only by party feeling."
"I will."
"I have told you what I shall never whisper to anyone else."
"You are safe with me."
"I am sure of it. And, Duke, I can tell you that the sacrifice will be almost more than I can bear. The post that you have offered me today is the only thing that I have ever coveted. I have thought of it and worked for it, have hoped and despaired, and have been wretched for weeks together because I have told myself that it was utterly beyond me."
"As to that, neither Brock nor I have any doubt. Finespun himself says that you are the man."
"I am much obliged. But I say this simply so that you may understand how imperative is the duty which requires me to refuse the offer."
"But you haven't refused yet," said the Duke. "I shall wait at the House for you, Try to join us. Do the best you can. Remember what a man like you owes to his country." Then the Duke went, and Mr. Palliser was alone.
He had not been alone since the revelation which had been made to him by his wife, and the words she had spoken were still sounding in his ears. "I do love Burgo Fitzgerald; I do! I do!"
They were not pleasant words for a young husband to hear. Plantagenet Palliser was a calm man, without strong passion; and he was essentially unsuspicious. Never for a moment had he thought, even while those words were hissing in his ears, that his wife had betrayed his honour. Nevertheless, the memory of those words made him feel that the world was almost too heavy for him. For the first quarter of an hour after the Duke's departure he thought more of his wife and of Burgo Fitzgerald than he did of Lord Brock and Mr. Finespun. But he was aware that he had forgiven his wife; and she, mutely, with her eyes, had promised him that she would do her best for him.
Then something of an idea of love came across his heart, and he acknowledged to himself that he had married without loving or without requiring love. Much of all this had been his own fault. But now - now he loved her. He felt that he could not bear to part with her. He had been torn inwardly by that assertion that she loved another man. She had got at his heart-strings at last.
When the Duke had been gone about an hour, he took his hat and walked out. He made his way across Hyde Park, and into Kensington Gardens, and there he remained for an hour, walking up and down beneath the elms. He had not been there long before he had resolved that no ministerial career was at present open to him.
"It has been my own fault," he said, as he returned to his house, "and with God's help I will mend it, if it be possible."
But he was a slow man, and he did not go off instantly to the Duke. He had given himself till eight o'clock, and he took the full time. He could not go down to the House of Commons because men would make inquiries of him which he would find it difficult to answer. So he dined at home, alone, and thought it all over. That seat in the Cabinet and Chancellorship of the Exchequer, which he had so infinitely desired, were already done with. There was no doubt about that. It might have been better for him not to have married; but now that he was married, he knew that his wife's safety was his first duty.
"We will go through Switzerland," he said to himself, "to Baden, and then on to Florence and to Rome. She has seen nothing of all these things yet, and the new life will make a change in her. She shall have her friend with her." Then he went down to the House of Lords, and saw the Duke.
"Well, Palliser," said the Duke, when he had listened to him, "I can only say that I am very sorry. Indeed, it half breaks my heart." The Duke's voice was very sad. In truth he disliked Mr. Finespun strongly, and had attached himself to Mr. Palliser almost as strongly. It was a thousand pities! "I must go to Brock at once," he said, "and tell him. God knows what we must do now. Goodbye! No; I'm not angry. But I am very sorry." In this way the two politicians parted.
The Duke saw Lord Brock that night, and another noble Lord, a man of great experience. These three discussed the matter, and on the following day Lord Brock got up in the House, and made a strong speech in defence of his colleague, Mr. Finespun. Till the end of the Session, at any rate, Mr. Finespun kept his position in the Exchequer.
In the meantime Mr. Palliser had returned to his wife, and told her of his resolution to tour abroad. "We may as well start at once," said he. "There is nothing on my side to hinder us."

Chapter 59: The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister