Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing.

Lady Glencora twisted herself in her chair, but she said nothing.


"She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?"

"She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him - what shall I say?"


"Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position."


What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless."

What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything reckless."


"Glencora, you are determined to make me angry.


When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--"

When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine-"


"What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?"


"No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me.


But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it.


I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person.


Others might distrust you, but I would not do so.


When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there?


When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth?


Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?"


"Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct?


She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject.


"He does watch me, certainly," she said.


Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?"


"Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies.


If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me."

If it were ever to come to that, it would be all over with me."


There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart.

There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this, which touched his wife's heart.


Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her.


She had listened to words of love from her former lover.


She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him.

She had received a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him.


She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing.

She had by no means resolved that she would not do it.


She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising.

She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against her own deceit.


"I know that I have never made you happy," she said.


"I know that I never can make you happy."


He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed.

He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner was changed.


"I do not understand what you mean," he said.


He was one of those men to whom this was enough.


If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her?


No doubt she might have done much more for him.


But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault.

But he was a just man, and knew that was his misfortune, and not her fault.


But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion.

But now her heart was loosed. She spoke out, at first slowly, but with all the quietness of strong passion.


"No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy.


We have never loved each other for a single moment.


I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!"


"Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will.

"Let me speak now, Plantagenet. It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will.


I will tell you everything;--everything!


Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you?

Have I not loved him from the first, before I had seen you?


I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself.


"He has asked you to go with him, then?"


said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity.


Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover.

Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might tell her own secrets, she ought not to tell those of her lover.


"What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?"


"Would it not have been the best for you?


Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them.

Plantagenet, I do not love you as women love their husbands.


But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."


As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat.

As she said this she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat.


He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on.

He was startled, but did not speak; and he stood looking at her as she went on.


[Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."]


"What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child?


Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared."


He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes.

He was a tall man and she was short, so that he stood over her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes.


What is there left for me that I should wish to live?"


Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist.


She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so.


"If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know.


"Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things."


If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both.


As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do.

As for that other thing - our having, as yet, no child" - and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm - "you allow yourself to think too much of it; much more of it than I do.


I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast."

I have made no complaints on that head, even to myself."


"I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet."


Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it.


I have never told you what is false, Glencora."


"I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir.

"I would rather have you for my wife, childless - if you will try to love me - than any other woman, though another might give me an heir.


At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try.

At this moment, after her confession, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try.


Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily.


"I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while.


I will give up politics for this season.


Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?"

Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to the German spas, and then to Italy when the weather is cold enough?"


"Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?"


She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his.


At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated.

At that moment there came a knock at the door - a sharp knock, which was repeated.


"Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards.

"Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her.


The handmaiden at George Vavasor's lodgings announced "another gent," and then Mr. Scruby entered the room in which were seated George, and Mr. Grimes the publican from the "Handsome Man" on the Brompton Road.

The handmaiden announced "another gent," and Mr. Scruby entered the room.

Chapter 13: Mr. Grimes Gets His Odd Money


Mr. Scruby was an attorney from Great Marlborough Street, supposed to be very knowing in the ways of metropolitan elections; and he had now stepped round, as he called it, with the object of saying a few words to Mr. Grimes, partly on the subject of the forthcoming contest at Chelsea, and partly on that of the contest last past.

He was an attorney, supposed to be very knowing in the ways of elections; and he had now come to say a few words to Mr. Grimes.


These words were to be said in the presence of Mr. Vavasor, the person interested.


That some other words had been spoken between Mr. Scruby and Mr. Grimes on the same subjects behind Mr. Vavasor's back I think very probable.

I think it very likely that some other words had been spoken between the two men behind Mr. Vavasor's back.


But even though this might have been so I am not prepared to say that Mr. Vavasor had been deceived by their combinations.


The two men were very civil to each other in their salutations, the attorney assuming an air of patronizing condescension, always calling the other Grimes; whereas Mr. Scruby was treated with considerable deference by the publican, and was always called Mr. Scruby.


"Business is business," said the publican as soon as these salutations were over; "isn't it now, Mr. Scruby?"


"And I suppose Grimes thinks Sunday morning a particularly good time for business," said the attorney, laughing.


"But it warn't me as named Sunday morning.


Mr. Scruby acknowledged that it was quiet, especially looking out over the river, and then they proceeded to business.

civilly, and then got proceeded to business.


"We must pull the governor through better next time than we did last," said the attorney.


"Of course we must, Mr. Scruby; but, Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor, whose fault was it?


What notice did I get,--just tell me that?


Why, Travers's name was up on the liberal interest ever so long before the governor had ever thought about it."


"Nobody is blaming you, Mr. Grimes," said George.


I done my work true as steel, and there ain't another man about the place as could have done half as much.

I done my work true as steel, and there ain't another man as could have done half as much.


Mr. Scruby knows, if ere a man in London does.


I tell you what it is, Mr. Vavasor, them Chelsea fellows, who lives mostly down by the river, ain't like your Maryboners or Finsburyites.

I tell you what it is, Mr. Vavasor, them Chelsea fellows down by the river ain't like your Maryboners or Finsburyites.


It wants something of a man to manage them.


"It wants something of a man to manage any of them as far as my experience goes," said Mr. Scruby.

"It wants a man to manage any of them," said Mr. Scruby.


"Of course it do; and there ain't one in London knows so much about it as you do, Mr. Scruby.


But the long and the short of it is this;--business is business, and money is money."

But the long and the short of it is - business is business, and money is money."


"Money is money, certainly," said Mr. Scruby.


"There's no doubt in the world about that, Grimes;--and a deal of it you had out of the last election."

"and you had a deal of it for the last election, Grimes."


"No, I hadn't; begging your pardon, Mr. Scruby, for making so free.

"No, I hadn't, begging your pardon, Mr. Scruby.


What I had to my own cheek wasn't nothing to speak of.

What I had for myself wasn't nothing to speak of.


I wasn't paid for my time; that's what I wasn't.


You look how a publican's business gets cut up at them elections;--and then the state of the house afterwards!

And then the state of my tavern afterwards!


What would the governor say to me if I was to put down painting inside and out in my little bill?"

What would the governor say if I was to put down painting in my little bill?


"It doesn't seem to make much difference how you put it down," said Vavasor.


And I has to look at it a deuced long time before I gets it.


I ain't a got it yet; have I, Mr. Vavasor?"

But I ain't been paid yet; have I, Mr. Vavasor?"


"Well; if you ask me I should say you had," said George.

"Well, I should say you had," said George.


"I know I paid Mr. Scruby three hundred pounds on your account."


"And I got every shilling of it, Mr. Vavasor.


I'm not a going to deny the money, Mr. Vavasor.


I'm as round as your hat, and as square as your elbow,--I am.


Mr. Scruby knows me; don't you, Mr. Scruby?"


"No you don't, Mr. Scruby; not a bit too well.


I respect you, Mr. Scruby, because you're a man as understands your business.


But as I was saying, what's three hundred pounds when a man's bill is three hundred and ninety-two thirteen and fourpence?"

But what's three hundred pounds when a man's bill is three hundred and ninety-two thirteen and fourpence?"


"I thought that was all settled, Mr. Scruby," said Vavasor.


"Why you see, Mr. Vavasor, it's very hard to settle these things.

"Why, Mr. Vavasor, it's very hard to settle these things," said the attorney.


If you ask me whether Mr. Grimes here can sue you for the balance, I tell you very plainly that he can't.


We were a little short of money when we came to a settlement, as is generally the case at such times, and so we took Mr. Grimes' receipt for three hundred pounds."

"We were a little short of money when we came to a settlement, as is generally the case at such times, and so we took Mr. Grimes' receipt for three hundred pounds


"Not on account, but in full of all demands."


and the publican as he made this appeal looked at the attorney with an expression of countenance which was absolutely eloquent.


"Are you going to put me off with such an excuse as that?"


"Are you going to bring up my own signature against me, when you know very well that I shouldn't have got a shilling at all for the next twelve months if I hadn't given it?


That's what Mr. Grimes' look said, and both Mr. Scruby and Mr. Vavasor understood it perfectly.


"In full of all demands," said Mr. Scruby, with a slight tone of triumph in his voice, as though to show that Grimes' appeal had no effect at all upon his conscience.


"If you were to go into a court of law, Grimes, you wouldn't have a leg to stand upon."

If you were to go to a court of law, Grimes, you wouldn't have a leg to stand upon."


Who's a going to law with the governor, I should like to know?


not I; not if he didn't pay me them ninety-two pounds thirteen and fourpence for the next five years."


"Five years or fifteen would make no difference," said Scruby.


That's not the ticket I've come here about, Mr. Vavasor, this blessed Sunday morning.

That's not what I've come here about, Mr. Vavasor.


"Not in the vale of Taunton, I hope," said George.


"They is at the 'Handsome Man' in the Brompton Road, Mr. Vavasor; and I always feels that I owes my first duty to them.


If a man don't work for his family, what do he work for?"


Out with it, and don't keep us here all day."


As if you didn't know very well what I'm at.


There's my house;--in all them Chelsea districts it's the most convenientest of any public as is open for all manner of election purposes.

There's my public-house; in all them Chelsea districts it's the most convenientest for all manner of election purposes.


There isn't one of the lot of 'em can work them Chelsea fellows down along the river unless it is me.

And I can work them Chelsea fellows along the river


Why I've been a getting of them up with a view to this very job ever since;--why ever since they was a talking of the Chelsea districts.


When Lord Robert was a coming in for the county on the religious dodge, he couldn't have worked them fellows anyhow, only for me.


"Let's take it all for granted, Mr. Grimes," said Vavasor.


"Well;--them Bunratty people; it is they as has come next.


They know which side their bread is likely to be buttered; they do.


They're a bidding for the 'Handsome Man' already; they are."

are a-bidding for the 'Handsome Man' already."


"And you'd let your house to the Tory party, Grimes!"


said Mr. Scruby, in a tone in which disgust and anger were blended.


"Who said anything of my letting my house to the Tory party, Mr. Scruby?


I'm as round as your hat, Mr. Scruby, and as square as your elbow; I am.


But suppose as all the liberal gents as employs you, Mr. Scruby, was to turn again you and not pay you your little bills, wouldn't you have your eyes open for customers of another kind?

But suppose as all the liberal gents as employs you, Mr. Scruby, was to not pay your little bills, wouldn't you look for customers of another kind?"


[Illustration: "I'm as round as your hat, and as square as your elbow; I am."]


"You won't make much of that game, Grimes."


There's a risk in all these things; isn't there, Mr. Vavasor?


I should like to see you a Parliament gent; I should indeed.


You'd be a credit to the districts; I really think you would."


"I'm much obliged by your good opinion, Mr. Grimes," said George.


"When I sees a gent coming forward I knows whether he's fit for Parliament, or whether he ain't.


But Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor; it's a thing a gentleman always has to pay for."

"But Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor, it's a thing a gentleman has to pay for."


"That's true enough; a deal more than it's worth, generally."

"A good deal more than it's worth, generally."


I'm worth what I'll fetch; that's the long and the short of it.


I want to have my balance, that's the truth.


It's the odd money in a man's bill as always carries the profit.


You ask Mr. Scruby else;--only with a lawyer it's all profit I believe."


"That's what you know about it," said Scruby.


"If you cut off a man's odd money," continued the publican, "you break his heart.


He'd almost sooner have that and leave the other standing.


He'd call the hundreds capital, and if he lost them at last, why he'd put it down as being in the way of trade.


But the odd money;--he looks at that, Mr. Vavasor, as in a manner the very sweat of his brow, the work of his own hand; that's what goes to his family, and keeps the pot a boiling down-stairs.


Never stop a man's odd money, Mr. Vavasor; that is, unless he comes it very strong indeed."


"I wants ninety-two pounds thirteen and fourpence, Mr. Scruby, and then we'll go to work for the new fight with contented hearts.

I just wants my ninety-two pounds thirteen and fourpence, and then we'll go to work for the new fight with contented hearts.


If we're to begin at all, it's quite time; it is indeed, Mr. Vavasor."


"And what you mean us to understand is, that you won't begin at all without your money," said the lawyer.

"You mean that you won't begin at all without your money," said the lawyer.


"Take a fifty-pound note, Grimes," said the lawyer.


"Fifty-pound notes are not so ready," said George.


"Oh, he'll be only too happy to have your acceptance; won't you, Grimes."


I don't mind the thirteen and four, because that's neither here nor there among friends, but if I didn't get all them ninety-two pounds I should be a broken-hearted man; I should indeed, Mr. Vavasor.

"I don't mind the thirteen and four, but if I didn't get all them ninety-two pounds I should be a broken-hearted man; I should indeed, Mr. Vavasor.


I couldn't go about your work for next year so as to do you justice among the electors.

I couldn't go about your work so as to do you justice among the electors."


"You'd better give him a bill for ninety pounds at three months, Mr. Vavasor.

"You'd better give him a bill for ninety pounds at three months, Mr. Vavasor," said the attorney.


I have no doubt he has got a stamp in his pocket."


"That I have, Mr. Scruby; there ain't no mistake about that.


A bill stamp is a thing that often turns up convenient with gents as mean business like Mr. Vavasor and you.


But you must make it ninety-two; you must indeed, Mr. Vavasor.

"You must make it ninety-two; you must indeed, Mr. Vavasor.


And do make it two months if you can, Mr. Vavasor; they do charge so unconscionable on ninety days at them branch banks; they do indeed."


George Vavasor and Mr. Scruby, between them, yielded at last, so far as to allow the bill to be drawn for ninety-two pounds, but they were stanch as to the time.

George Vavasor and Mr. Scruby yielded at last, so far as to allow the bill to be drawn for ninety-two pounds, but at three months distant.


"If it must be, it must," said the publican, with a deep sigh, as he folded up the paper and put it into the pocket of a huge case which he carried.

"If it must be, it must," said the publican, with a deep sigh, as he folded up the paper and put it away.


"And now, gents, I'll tell you what it is.


We'll make safe work of this here next election.

we'll make safe work of this here next election.


We know what's to be our little game in time, and if we don't go in and win, my name ain't Jacob Grimes, and I ain't the landlord of the 'Handsome Man.'

If we don't win, my name ain't Jacob Grimes.


As you gents has perhaps got something to say among yourselves, I'll make so bold as to wish you good morning."


So, with that, Mr. Grimes lifted his hat from the floor, and bowed himself out of the room.

Mr. Grimes bowed himself out of the room.


"You couldn't have done it cheaper; you couldn't, indeed," said the lawyer, as soon as the sound of the closing front door had been heard.

"You couldn't have done it cheaper," said the lawyer, once he had gone.


"Perhaps not; but what a thief the man is!


I remember your telling me that the bill was about the most preposterous you had ever seen."


"So it was, and if we hadn't wanted him again of course we shouldn't have paid him.


But we'll have it all off his next account, Mr. Vavasor,--every shilling of it, It's only lent; that's all;--it's only lent."

But we'll have it all off his next account, Mr. Vavasor.


"But one doesn't want to lend such a man money, if one could help it."


If you look at it in that light, it's quite true.


If he hadn't got your bill, he'd have gone over to the other fellows before the week was over; and the worst of it would have been that he knows our hand.

You see, if he hadn't got your bill, he'd have gone over to the other fellows before the week was over.


Looking at it all round you've got him cheap, Mr. Vavasor;--you have, indeed."


"Looking at it all round is just what I don't like, Mr. Scruby, But if a man will have a whistle, he must pay for it."


"You can't do it cheap for any of these metropolitan seats; you can't, indeed, Mr. Vavasor.


When you've been in four or five times, like old Duncombe, why then, of course, you may snap your fingers at such men as Grimes.


Now Marylebone is dear,--and so is Southwark.


It's dear, and nasty; that's what the borough is.


Only that I never tell tales, I could tell you a tale, Mr. Vavasor, that'd make your hair stand on end; I could indeed."


the game is hardly worth the candle, I believe."


"That depends on what way you choose to look at it.


A seat in Parliament is a great thing to a man who wants to make his way;--a very great thing;--specially when a man's young, like you, Mr. Vavasor."

A seat in Parliament is a great thing to a man who wants to make his way; specially a young man like you."


"Sometimes it seems to me as though I've been living for a hundred years.

"Sometimes it seems as though I've been living for a hundred years.


But I won't trouble you with that, Mr. Scruby, and I believe I needn't keep you any longer."

I believe I needn't keep you any longer, Mr. Scruby."


With that, he got up and bowed the attorney out of the room, with just a little more ceremony than he had shown to the publican.


said Vavasor to himself, when he was left alone.


"There's my uncle, or the old squire,--they're both younger men than I am.

"My uncle and the old squire are both younger men than I am.


One cares for his dinner, and the other for his bullocks and his trees.


But what is there that I care for, unless it is not getting among the sheriff's officers for debt?"

But what do I care for, except not getting arrested for debt?"


Then he took out a little memorandum-book from his breast-pocket, and having made in it an entry as to the amount and date of that bill which he had just accepted on the publican's behalf, he conned over the particulars of its pages.

Then he took out a little notebook from his pocket, and having made an entry about the publican's bill, he looked through its pages.


"Very blue; very blue, indeed," he said to himself when he had completed the study.

"Very blue, indeed," he said to himself.


"But nobody shall say I hadn't the courage to play the game out, and that old fellow must die some day, one supposes.

"But nobody shall say I hadn't the courage to play the game out; and that old fellow in Westmorland must die some day.


If I were not a fool, I should make it up with him before he went; but I am a fool, and shall remain so to the last."

If I were not a fool, I should make it up with him before he went; but I am a fool."


Soon after that he dressed himself slowly, reading a little every now and then as he did so.


When his toilet was completed, and his Sunday newspapers sufficiently perused, he took up his hat and umbrella and sauntered out.

Then he dressed himself, took up his hat and umbrella and sauntered out.


George Vavasor was not in a very happy mood when he left Queen Anne Street, after having flung his gift ring under the grate.

George Vavasor was not in a very happy mood when he left Queen Anne Street after flinging his ring in the fireplace.


Indeed there was much in his condition, as connected with the house which he was leaving, which could not but make him unhappy.

Indeed there was much to make him unhappy.


Alice was engaged to be his wife, and had as yet said nothing to show that she meditated any breach of that engagement, but she had treated him in a way which made him long to throw her promise in her teeth.

Alice was engaged to be his wife, but she had treated him in a way which made him long to throw her promise in her teeth.


He was a man to whom any personal slight from a woman was unendurable.


To slights from men, unless they were of a nature to provoke offence, he was indifferent.


There was no man living for whose liking or disliking George Vavasor cared anything.


But he did care much for the good opinion, or rather for the personal favour, of any woman to whom he had endeavoured to make himself agreeable.


"I will marry you," Alice had said to him,--not in words, but in acts and looks, which were plainer than words,--"I will marry you for certain reasons of my own, which in my present condition make it seem that that arrangement will be more convenient to me than any other that I can make; but pray understand that there is no love mixed up with this.

"I will marry you," Alice's behaviour had said to him, "for certain reasons of my own, which make that arrangement convenient; but pray understand that there is no love mixed up with this.


There is another man whom I love;--only, for those reasons above hinted, I do not care to marry him."

There is another man whom I love; only I do not care to marry him."


It was thus that he read Alice's present treatment of him, and he was a man who could not endure this treatment with ease.

It was thus that he read Alice's treatment of him, and he could not endure it.


But though he could throw his ring under the grate in his passion, he could not so dispose of her.

But though he could throw his ring under the fire-grate in his passion, he could not so dispose of her.


That he would have done so had his hands been free, we need not doubt.

He would have done so had his hands been free.


And he would have been clever enough to do so in some manner that would have been exquisitely painful to Alice, willing as she might be to be released from her engagement.

And he would have been clever enough to do so in a way that would have been exquisitely painful to Alice, willing as she might be to be released from her engagement.


But he could not do this to a woman whose money he had borrowed, and whose money he could not repay;--to a woman, more of whose money he intended to borrow immediately.

But he had borrowed money from her, money which he could not repay - and he intended to borrow more immediately.


As to that latter part of it, he did say to himself over and over again, that he would have no more of it.

As he walked away, he did say to himself that he would have no more of it.


As he left the house in Queen Anne Street, on that occasion, he swore, that under no circumstances would he be indebted to her for another shilling.

He would not be indebted to her for another shilling.


But before he had reached Great Marlborough Street, to which his steps took him, he had reminded himself that everything depended on a further advance.

But before long he had reminded himself that everything depended on a further advance.


He was in Parliament, but Parliament would be dissolved within three months.


Having sacrificed so much for his position, should he let it all fall from him now,--now, when success seemed to be within his reach?

: having sacrificed so much for his position, should he let it all fall from him now?


That wretched old man in Westmoreland, who seemed gifted almost with immortality,--why could he not die and surrender his paltry acres to one who could use them?

That wretched old man in Westmorland - why could he not die and surrender his paltry acres to one who could use them?


He turned away from Regent Street into Hanover Square before he crossed to Great Marlborough Street, giving vent to his passion rather than arranging his thoughts.


As he walked the four sides of the square he considered how good it would be if some accident should befall the old man.

considering how good it would be if some accident should befall the old man.


How he would rejoice were he to hear to-morrow that one of the trees of the "accursed place," had fallen on the "obstinate old idiot," and put an end to him!

How he would rejoice if he were to hear that a tree had fallen on the "obstinate old idiot!"


I will not say that he meditated the murder of his grandfather.


There was a firm conviction on his mind, as he thought of all this, that such a deed as that would never come in his way.


But he told himself, that if he chose to make the attempt, he would certainly be able to carry it through without detection.

But he told himself that if he chose to, he would certainly be able to do it without detection.


Then he remembered Rush and Palmer--the openly bold murderer and the secret poisoner.


Both of them, in Vavasor's estimation, were great men.


He had declared that the courage of Rush had never been surpassed.


"Think of him," he would say with admiration, "walking into a man's house, with pistols sufficient to shoot every one there, and doing it as though he were killing rats!


And of Palmer he declared that he was a man of genius as well as courage.


He had "looked the whole thing in the face," Vavasor would say, "and told himself that all scruples and squeamishness are bosh,--child's tales.


Who lives as though they fear either heaven or hell?


And if we do live without such fear or respect, what is the use of telling lies to ourselves?


To throw it all to the dogs, as Palmer did, is more manly."


"And be hanged," some hearer of George's doctrine replied.


"Yes, and be hanged,--if such is your destiny.


But you hear of the one who is hanged, but hear nothing of the twenty who are not."


Vavasor walked round Hanover Square, nursing his hatred against the old Squire.


He did not tell himself that he would like to murder his grandfather.


But he suggested to himself, that if he desired to do so, he would have courage enough to make his way into the old man's room, and strangle him; and he explained to himself how he would be able to get down into Westmoreland without the world knowing that he had been there,--how he would find an entrance into the house by a window with which he was acquainted,--how he could cause the man to die as though, those around him should think, it was apoplexy,--he, George Vavasor, having read something on that subject lately.

He would have courage enough to make his way into the old man's room and strangle him; and he worked out how he would find an entrance into the house by a window, and how he could cause the old man to die as though from apoplexy.


All this he considered very fully, walking rapidly round Hanover Square more than once or twice.

All this he considered very fully, walking rapidly round Hanover Square.


If he were to become an active student in the Rush or Palmer school, he would so study the matter that he would not be the one that should be hung.


He thought that he could, so far, trust his own ingenuity.


he said to himself, "he must have his chance as other men have, I suppose," And then he went across Regent Street to Mr. Scruby's office in Great Marlborough Street, not having, as yet, come to any positive conclusion as to what he would do in reference to Alice's money.

And then he went to Mr. Scruby's office in Great Marlborough Street, not having yet decided what he would do about Alice's money.


But he soon found himself talking to Mr. Scruby as though there were no doubts as to the forthcoming funds for the next elections.

But he soon found himself talking to Mr. Scruby as though there were no doubts about the forthcoming funds for the next election.


And Mr. Scruby talked to him very plainly, as though those funds must be forthcoming before long.

And Mr. Scruby said plainly that those funds must be forthcoming soon.


"A stitch in time saves nine," said Mr. Scruby, meaning to insinuate that a pound in time might have the same effect.


"And I'll tell you what, Mr. Vavasor,--of course I've my outstanding bills for the last affair.

"Of course I've my outstanding bills for the last affair." said Mr. Scruby.


That's no fault of yours, for the things came so sharp one on another that my fellows haven't had time to make it out.


But if you'll put me in funds for what I must be out of pocket in June--"

But if you'll put me in funds for what I'll need to pay in June


Why, then, I'll lump the two bills together when it's all over."


In their discussion respecting money Mr. Scruby injudiciously mentioned the name of Mr. Tombe.

In this discussion, Mr. Scruby unwisely mentioned the name of Mr. Tombe.


No precise caution had been given to him, but he had become aware that the matter was being managed through an agency that was not recognized by his client; and as that agency was simply a vehicle of money which found its way into Mr. Scruby's pocket, he should have held his tongue.

He had become aware that the money was being managed through an agency that was unknown to his client.


But Mr. Tombe's name escaped from him, and Vavasor immediately questioned him.


Scruby, who did not often make such blunders, readily excused himself, shaking his head, and declaring that the name had fallen from his lips instead of that of another man.

Scruby, who did not often make such blunders, shook his head, and declared that he had meant a different man.


Vavasor accepted the excuse without further notice, and nothing more was said about Mr. Tombe while he was in Mr. Scruby's office.

Vavasor accepted the excuse, and said nothing more about Mr. Tombe.


But he had not heard the name in vain, and had unfortunately heard it before.


Mr. Tombe was a remarkable man in his way.


He wore powder to his hair,--was very polite in his bearing,--was somewhat asthmatic, and wheezed in his talking,--and was, moreover, the most obedient of men, though it was said of him that he managed the whole income of the Ely Chapter just as he pleased.


Being in these ways a man of note, John Grey had spoken of him to Alice, and his name had filtered through Alice and her cousin Kate to George Vavasor.

John Grey had spoken of Mr. Tombe to Alice, and his name had filtered through Alice and her cousin Kate to George Vavasor.


George seldom forgot things or names, and when he heard Mr. Tombe's name mentioned in connection with his own money matters, he remembered that Mr. Tombe was John Grey's lawyer.

Now George remembered that Mr. Tombe was John Grey's lawyer.


As soon as he could escape out into the street he endeavoured to put all these things together, and after a while resolved that he would go to Mr. Tombe.

Out in the street he tried to put all these things together, and resolved that he would go to Mr. Tombe.


What if there should be an understanding between John Grey and Alice, and Mr. Tombe should be arranging his money matters for him!


Would not anything be better than this,--even that little tragedy down in Westmoreland, for which his ingenuity and courage would be required?


He could endure to borrow money from Alice.


He might even endure it still,--though that was very difficult after her treatment of him; but he could not endure to be the recipient of John Grey's money.

, though it was difficult after her treatment of him; but he could not endure to be the recipient of John Grey's money.


And as he got into a cab, and had himself driven off to the neighbourhood of Doctors' Commons, he gave himself credit for much fine manly feeling.

As he got into a cab, and was driven off to Doctors' Commons, he gave himself credit for much fine manly feeling.


Mr. Tombe's chambers were found without difficulty, and, as it happened, Mr. Tombe was there.


The lawyer rose from his chair as Vavasor entered, and bowed his powdered head very meekly as he asked his visitor to sit down.

The lawyer rose from his chair as Vavasor entered, and meekly asked his visitor to sit down.


Yes; he was in the habit of acting for his very old friend Mr. John Grey.


He had acted for Mr. John Grey, and for Mr. John Grey's father,--he or his partner,--he believed he might say, for about half a century.

He and his partner had acted for Mr. John Grey, and for Mr. John Grey's father, for about half a century."


There could not be a nicer gentleman than Mr. John Grey;--and such a pretty child as he used to be!"


At every new sentence Mr. Tombe caught his poor asthmatic breath, and bowed his meek old head, and rubbed his hands together as though he hardly dared to keep his seat in Vavasor's presence without the support of some such motion; and wheezed apologetically, and seemed to ask pardon of his visitor for not knowing intuitively what was the nature of that visitor's business.

At every new sentence Mr. Tombe bowed his meek old head, and rubbed his hands together, and wheezed apologetically, and seemed to ask pardon of his visitor.


But he was a sly old fox was Mr. Tombe, and was considering all this time how much it would be well that he should tell Mr. Vavasor, and how much it would be well that he should conceal.

But Mr. Tombe was a sly old fox, and was considering all this time how much he should tell Mr. Vavasor, and how much he should conceal.


"The fat had got into the fire," as he told his old wife when he got home that evening.

"The fat had got into the fire," as he told his old wife that evening.


He told his old wife everything, and I don't know that any of his clients were the worse for his doing so.


But while he was wheezing, and coughing, and apologizing, he made up his mind that if George Vavasor were to ask him certain questions, it would be best that he should answer them truly.


If Vavasor did ask those questions, he would probably do so upon certain knowledge, and if so, why, in that case, lying would be of no use.


Lying would not put the fat back into the frying pan.


And even though such questions might be asked without any absolute knowledge, they would, at any rate, show that the questioner had the means of ascertaining the truth.


He would tell as little as he could; but he decided during his last wheeze, that he could not lie in the matter with any chance of benefiting his client.

He would tell as little as he could; but he decided he could not lie with any chance of benefiting his client.


"The prettiest child I ever saw, Mr. Vavasor!"


said Mr. Tombe, and then he coughed violently.


Some people who knew Mr. Tombe declared that he nursed his cough.


"Can you tell me, Mr. Tombe, whether either you or he have anything to do with the payment of certain sums to my credit at Messrs. Hock and Block's?"

"Can you tell me, Mr. Tombe, whether you have anything to do with the payment of certain sums to my credit at Messrs. Hock and Block's?"


"Messrs. Hock and Block's, the bankers,--in Lom--bard Street?"


said Mr. Tombe, taking a little more time.


"Yes; I bank there," said Vavasor, sharply.


"Has any money been paid there to my credit, by you, Mr. Tombe?"

"Has any money been paid there to my credit by you, Mr. Tombe?"


"May I ask you why you put the question to me, Mr. Vavasor?"


That is to say, my reason for asking it can have nothing to do with yours for replying to it.


If you have had no hand in any such payment, there is an end of it, and I need not take up your time by saying anything more on the subject."

If you have had no hand in any such payment, there is an end of it, and I need not take up any more of your time."


"I am not prepared to go that length, Mr. Vavasor,--not altogether to go that length,--ugh--ugh--ugh."


"Then, will you tell me what you have done in the matter?"


"Well,--upon my word, you've taken me a little by surprise.

"Well - upon my word, you've taken me a little by surprise.


Pinkle was a clerk who sat in an inner room, and Mr. Tombe's effort to call him seemed to be most ineffectual.


But Pinkle understood the sound, and came.


"Pinkle, didn't we pay some money into Hock and Block's a few weeks since, to the credit of Mr. George Vavasor?"


said Pinkle, who probably knew that his employer was an old fox, and who, perhaps, had caught something of the fox nature himself.

said Pinkle, who knew that his employer was an old fox, and who, perhaps, had caught something of the fox nature himself.


Just look Pinkle;--and, Pinkle,--see the date, and let me know all about it.

Just look, Pinkle, and see the date, and let me know all about it.


It's fine bright weather for this time of year, Mr. Vavasor; but these easterly winds!--ugh--ugh--ugh!"

It's fine bright weather for this time of year, Mr. Vavasor; but these easterly winds!" Mr. Tombe began to cough and wheeze. "Ugh - ugh - ugh!"


Vavasor found himself sitting for an apparently interminable number of minutes in Mr. Tombe's dingy chamber, and was coughed at, and wheezed at, till he begun to be tired of his position; moreover, when tired, he showed his impatience.

Vavasor found himself sitting for interminable minutes in Mr. Tombe's dingy chamber, being coughed and wheezed at, till he begun to be tired of it; and he showed his impatience.


"Perhaps you'll let us write you a line when we have looked into the matter?"


"I'd rather know at once," said Vavasor.


"I don't suppose it can take you very long to find out whether you have paid money to my account, by order of Mr. Grey.


At any rate, I must know before I go away."


screamed the old man through his coughing; and again Pinkle came.

screamed the old man through his coughing; and again Pinkle came in.


"Well, Pinkle, was anything of the kind done, or is my memory deceiving me?"


Mr. Tombe was, no doubt, lying shamefully, for, of course, he remembered all about it; and, indeed, George Vavasor had learned already quite enough for his own purposes.


"I was going to look," said Pinkle; and Pinkle again went away.

"I was going to look," said Pinkle; and he went away again.


"I'm sorry to give your clerk so much trouble," said Vavasor, in an angry voice; "and I think it must be unnecessary.

"I'm sorry to give your clerk so much trouble," said Vavasor angrily; "and I think it must be unnecessary.


Surely you know whether Mr. Grey has commissioned you to pay money for me?"


"We have so many things to do, Mr. Vavasor; and so many clients.


You see, it isn't only one gentleman's affairs.


"Number 5, Suffolk Street, Pall Mall East," said Mr. Tombe.


Herein Mr. Tombe somewhat committed himself.


His client, Mr. Grey, was, in fact, in town, but Vavasor had not known or imagined that such was the case.

Vavasor had known of Nethercoats, but he had not known John Grey's London address - or that John Grey was in London now.


Had Mr. Tombe given the usual address of Nethercoats, nothing further would have been demanded from him on that subject.


But he had foolishly presumed that the question had been based on special information as to his client's visit to London, and he had told the plain truth in a very simple way.


"Number 5, Suffolk Street," said Vavasor, writing down the address.

"Number 5, Suffolk Street," said Vavasor, writing it down.


"Perhaps it will be better that I should go to him, as you do not seem inclined to give me any information."


Then he took up his hat, and hardly bowing to Mr. Tombe, left the chambers.

Then he took up his hat, and hardly bowing, left the room.


Mr. Tombe, as he did so, rose from his chair, and bent his head meekly down upon the table.


Pinkle didn't mind; and we may say that he had not minded; for up to that moment he had taken no steps towards a performance of the order which had been given him.

Pinkle didn't mind; and he had never minded; for up to that moment he had taken no steps towards carrying out the order which had been given him.


Parliament opened that year on the twelfth of February, and Mr. Palliser was one of the first Members of the Lower House to take his seat.

Parliament opened that year on the twelfth of February, and Mr. Palliser was one of the first members of the House of Commons to take his seat.


It had been generally asserted through the country, during the last week, that the existing Chancellor of the Exchequer had, so to say, ceased to exist as such; that though he still existed to the outer world, drawing his salary, and doing routine work,--if a man so big can have any routine work to do,--he existed no longer in the inner world of the cabinet.

During the last week, rumour had spread through the country that the present Chancellor of the Exchequer had


He had differed, men said, with his friend and chief, the Prime Minister, as to the expediency of repealing what were left of the direct taxes of the country, and was prepared to launch himself into opposition with his small bodyguard of followers, with all his energy and with all his venom.

differed with the Prime Minister over repealing direct taxes, and that he was prepared to leave the Cabinet and launch himself into opposition with his small bodyguard of followers, with all his energy and venom.


There is something very pleasant in the close, bosom friendship, and bitter, uncompromising animosity, of these human gods,--of these human beings who would be gods were they not shorn so short of their divinity in that matter of immortality.

There is something very pleasant in the close friendship and bitter animosity of these human gods.


If it were so arranged that the same persons were always friends, and the same persons were always enemies, as used to be the case among the dear old heathen gods and goddesses;--if Parliament were an Olympus in which Juno and Venus never kissed, the thing would not be nearly so interesting.

If Parliamentary friendships and enmities never changed, the thing would not be nearly so interesting.


But in this Olympus partners are changed, the divine bosom, now rabid with hatred against some opposing deity, suddenly becomes replete with love towards its late enemy, and exciting changes occur which give to the whole thing all the keen interest of a sensational novel.

But these sudden rabid hatreds or devout loves give to the whole thing all the keen interest of a sensational novel.


No doubt this is greatly lessened for those who come too near the scene of action.

No doubt this is greatly lessened for those too near the scene of action.


Members of Parliament, and the friends of Members of Parliament, are apt to teach themselves that it means nothing; that Lord This does not hate Mr. That, or think him a traitor to his country, or wish to crucify him; and that Sir John of the Treasury is not much in earnest when he speaks of his noble friend at the "Foreign Office" as a god to whom no other god was ever comparable in honesty, discretion, patriotism, and genius.


But the outside Briton who takes a delight in politics,--and this description should include ninety-nine educated Englishmen out of every hundred,--should not be desirous of peeping behind the scenes.

The outside Briton who takes a delight in politics - and this should include ninety-nine educated Englishmen out of every hundred - should not desire to peep behind the scenes.


No beholder at any theatre should do so.


It is good to believe in these friendships and these enmities, and very pleasant to watch their changes.


It is delightful when Oxford embraces Manchester, finding that it cannot live without support in that quarter; and very delightful when the uncompromising assailant of all men in power receives the legitimate reward of his energy by being taken in among the bosoms of the blessed.


But although the outer world was so sure that the existing Chancellor of the Exchequer had ceased to exist, when the House of Commons met that gentleman took his seat on the Treasury Bench.


Mr. Palliser, who had by no means given a general support to the Ministry in the last Session, took his seat on the same side of the House indeed, but low down, and near to the cross benches.

Mr. Palliser took his seat on the same side of the House, but low down, near to the cross benches,


Mr. Bott sat close behind him, and men knew that Mr. Bott was a distinguished member of Mr. Palliser's party, whatever that party might be.


Lord Cinquebars moved the Address, and I must confess that he did it very lamely.


He was once accused by Mr. Maxwell, the brewer, of making a great noise in the hunting-field.


The accusation could not be repeated as to his performance on this occasion, as no one could hear a word that he said.


The Address was seconded by Mr. Loftus Fitzhoward, a nephew of the Duke of St. Bungay, who spoke as though he were resolved to trump poor Lord Cinquebars in every sentence which he pronounced,--as we so often hear the second clergyman from the Communion Table trumping his weary predecessor, who has just finished the Litany not in the clearest or most audible voice.

The Address was seconded by Mr. Loftus Fitzhoward, a nephew of the Duke of St. Bungay, who spoke as though he were resolved to out-do poor Lord Cinquebars, so that every word fell from him with the elaborate accuracy of a pistol-shot.


Every word fell from Mr. Fitzhoward with the elaborate accuracy of a separate pistol-shot; and as he became pleased with himself in his progress, and warm with his work, he accented his words sharply, made rhetorical pauses, even moved his hands about in action, and quite disgusted his own party, who had been very well satisfied with Lord Cinquebars.

He made rhetorical pauses, and even gesticulated in a way that quite disgusted his own party.


There are many rocks which a young speaker in Parliament should avoid, but no rock which requires such careful avoiding as the rock of eloquence.

A young speaker in Parliament should be careful to avoid eloquence.


Whatever may be his faults, let him at least avoid eloquence.


He should not be inaccurate, which, however, is not much; he should not be long-winded, which is a good deal; he should not be ill-tempered, which is more; but none of these faults are so damnable as eloquence.


All Mr. Fitzhoward's friends and all his enemies knew that he had had his chance, and that he had thrown it away.

All Mr. Fitzhoward's friends and enemies knew that he had had his chance, and that he had thrown it away.


In the Queen's Speech there had been some very lukewarm allusion to remission of direct taxation.


This remission, which had already been carried so far, should be carried further if such further carrying were found practicable.


Those words, it was known, could not have been approved of by the energetic and still existing Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Those words could not have been approved of by the existing Chancellor of the Exchequer.


On this subject the mover of the Address said never a word, and the seconder only a word or two.


What they had said had, of course, been laid down for them; though, unfortunately, the manner of saying could not be so easily prescribed.


Then there arose a great enemy, a man fluent of diction, apparently with deep malice at his heart, though at home,--as we used to say at school,--one of the most good-natured fellows in the world; one ambitious of that godship which a seat on the other side of the House bestowed, and greedy to grasp at the chances which this disagreement in the councils of the gods might give him.

Next there arose a great enemy, an ambitious, fluent man, apparently with deep malice at his heart, though one of the most good-natured fellows in the world.


He was quite content, he said, to vote for the Address, as, he believed, would be all the gentlemen on his side of the House.


No one could suspect them or him of giving a factious opposition to Government.


Had they not borne and forborne beyond all precedent known in that House?


Then he touched lightly, and almost with grace to his opponents, on many subjects, promising support, and barely hinting that they were totally and manifestly wrong in all things.

Then he touched lightly and gracefully on many subjects of legislation, promising support, and just hinting that they were totally and manifestly wrong in all things.


Then the tone of his voice changed, and the well-known look of fury was assumed upon his countenance.

- The tone of his voice changed, and he assumed a well-known look of fury.


Then great Jove on the other side pulled his hat over his eyes, and smiled blandly.


Then members put away the papers they had been reading for a moment, and men in the gallery began to listen.

Members put away the papers they had been reading, and began to listen.


The long and the short of it was this; that the existing Government had come into power on the cry of a reduction of taxation, and now they were going to shirk the responsibility of their own measures.

- the existing Government had come into power on the promise of a reduction of taxation, and now they were going to shirk the responsibility of their own promise.


They were going to shirk the responsibility of their own election cry, although it was known that their own Chancellor of the Exchequer was prepared to carry it out to the full.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer was prepared to carry it out - but was


He was willing to carry it out to the full were he not restrained by the timidity, falsehood, and treachery of his colleagues, of whom, of course, the most timid, the most false, and the most treacherous was--the great god Jove, who sat blandly smiling on the other side.

restrained by the timidity and treachery of his colleagues, of whom, of course, the most timid and treacherous was - the great god Jove, who sat blandly smiling on the government side.


No one should ever go near the House of Commons who wishes to enjoy all this.


It was so manifestly evident that neither Jove nor any of his satellites cared twopence for what the irate gentleman was saying; nay, it became so evident that, in spite of his assumed fury, the gentleman was not irate.

It was obvious Jove did not care twopence for what the irate gentleman was saying; and in fact the gentleman was not irate.


He intended to communicate his look of anger to the newspaper reports of his speech; and he knew from experience that he could succeed in that.

His look of anger was for the newspaper reports.


And men walked about the House in the most telling moments,--enemies shaking hands with enemies,--in a way that showed an entire absence of all good, honest hatred among them.


But the gentleman went on and finished his speech, demanding at last, in direct terms, that the Treasury Jove should state plainly to the House who was to be, and who was not to be, the bearer of the purse among the gods.

But he finished his speech by demanding that Jove should state plainly to the House who was to be the bearer of the purse among the gods.


Then Treasury Jove got up smiling, and thanked his enemy for the cordiality of his support.

Then got up smiling, and thanked his enemy.


"He had always," he said, "done the gentleman's party justice for their clemency, and had feared no opposition from them; and he was glad to find that he was correct in his anticipations as to the course they would pursue on the present occasion."


He went on saying a good deal about home matters, and foreign matters, proving that everything was right, just as easily as his enemy had proved that everything was wrong.

He spoke a good deal about home matters, and foreign matters, proving that everything was right just as easily as his enemy had proved that everything was wrong.


On all these points he was very full, and very courteous; but when he came to the subject of taxation, he simply repeated the passage from the Queen's Speech, expressing a hope that his right honourable friend, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, would be able to satisfy the judgement of the House, and the wishes of the people.

When he came to the subject of taxation, he simply repeated the passage from the Queen's Speech, expressing a hope that his right honourable friend, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, would be able to satisfy the judgement of the House, and the wishes of the people.


That specially personal question which had been asked he did not answer at all.


But the House was still all agog, as was the crowded gallery.

But the House was all agog, as was the crowded gallery.


The energetic and still existing Chancellor of the Exchequer was then present, divided only by one little thin Secretary of State from Jove himself.

The energetic and still existing Chancellor of the Exchequer was divided only by one little thin Secretary of State from Jove himself.


Would he get up and declare his purposes? No.


He was a man who almost always did get up when an opportunity offered itself,--or when it did not.


Some second little gun was fired off from the Opposition benches, and then there was a pause.


Would the purse-bearer of Olympus rise upon his wings and speak his mind, or would he sit in silence upon his cloud?


There was a general call for the purse-bearer, but he floated in silence, and was inexplicable.

He floated in silence, and was inexplicable.


The purse-bearer was not to be bullied into any sudden reading of the riddle.


Then there came on a general debate about money matters, in which the purse-bearer did say a few words, but he said nothing as to the great question at issue.

Then there was a general debate about money matters, in which the purse-bearer did say a few words, but nothing about the great question.


At last up got Mr. Palliser, towards the close of the evening, and occupied a full hour in explaining what taxes the Government might remit with safety, and what they might not,--Mr. Bott, meanwhile, prompting him with figures from behind with an assiduity that was almost too persistent.

At last up got Mr. Palliser, towards the close of the evening, and occupied a full hour in explaining what taxes the Government might remit with safety, and what they might not, Mr. Bott prompting him with figures from behind almost too assiduously.


According to Mr. Palliser, the words used in the Queen's Speech were not at all too cautious.


The Members went out gradually, and the House became very thin during this oration; but the newspapers declared, next morning, that his speech had been the speech of the night, and that the perspicuity of Mr. Palliser pointed him out as the coming man.

The Members went out gradually during this oration; but the newspapers declared, next morning, that his speech had been the speech of the night, and that Mr. Palliser was the coming man.


He returned home to his house in Park Lane quite triumphant after his success, and found Lady Glencora, at about twelve o'clock, sitting alone.

He returned home to his house in Park Lane quite triumphant, and found Lady Glencora, at about twelve o'clock, sitting alone.


She had arrived in town on that day, having come up at her own request, instead of remaining at Matching Priory till after Easter, as he had proposed.

She had arrived in town on that day, although he had wished her to stay at Matching Priory till after Easter,


He had wished her to stay, in order, as he had said, that there might be a home for his cousins.


But she had expressed herself unwilling to remain without him, explaining that the cousins might have the home in her absence, as well as they could in her presence; and he had given way.

But she had said she was unwilling to remain without him, explaining that the cousins might have the home in her absence; and he had given way.


But, in truth, she had learned to hate her cousin Iphy Palliser with a hatred that was unreasonable,--seeing that she did not also hate Alice Vavasor, who had done as much to merit her hatred as had her cousin.

In truth, she had learned to hate her cousin Iphy Palliser with an unreasonable hatred.


Lady Glencora knew by what means her absence from Monkshade had been brought about.

Lady Glencora knew how her absence from Monkshade had been brought about.


Miss Palliser had told her all that had passed in Alice's bedroom on the last night of Alice's stay at Matching, and had, by so doing, contrived to prevent the visit.

Miss Palliser had told her all that had passed in Alice's bedroom on the last night of her stay.


Lady Glencora understood well all that Alice had said: and yet, though she hated Miss Palliser for what had been done, she entertained no anger against Alice.

Yet Lady Glencora had no anger against Alice.


Of course Alice would have prevented that visit to Monkshade if it were in her power to do so.


It is hardly too much to say that Lady Glencora looked to Alice to save her.


Nevertheless she hated Iphy Palliser for engaging herself in the same business.


Lady Glencora looked to Alice to save her, and yet it may be doubted whether she did, in truth, wish to be saved.

And it may be doubted whether Lady Glencora did, in truth, wish to be saved.


While she was at Matching, and before Mr. Palliser had returned from Monkshade, a letter reached her, by what means she had never learned.

While she was at Matching, a letter reached her, by what means she never learned,


"A letter has been placed within my writing-case," she said to her maid, quite openly.

although she suspected her maid of placing it inside her writing-case.


The maid had declared her ignorance in a manner that had satisfied Lady Glencora of her truth.


"If such a thing happens again," said Lady Glencora, "I shall be obliged to have the matter investigated.


I cannot allow that anything should be put into my room surreptitiously."


There, then, had been an end of that, as regarded any steps taken by Lady Glencora.


The letter had been from Burgo Fitzgerald, and had contained a direct proposal that she should go off with him.


"I am at Matching," the letter said, "at the Inn; but I do not dare to show myself, lest I should do you an injury.

"I am at Matching," the letter said, "at the Inn; but I do not dare to show myself.


I walked round the house yesterday, at night, and I know that I saw your room.


If I am wrong in thinking that you love me, I would not for worlds insult you by my presence; but if you love me still, I ask you to throw aside from you that fictitious marriage, and give yourself to the man whom, if you love him, you should regard as your husband."

If you love me still, I ask you to throw aside that fictitious marriage, and give yourself to the man whom, if you love him, you should regard as your husband."


There had been more of it, but it had been to the same effect.


To Lady Glencora it had seemed to convey an assurance of devoted love,--of that love which, in former days, her friends had told her was not within the compass of Burgo's nature.

To Lady Glencora the letter had seemed to assure devoted love - that love which, formerly, her friends had told her that Burgo was not capable of feeling.


He had not asked her to meet him then, but saying that he would return to Matching after Parliament was met, begged her to let him have some means of knowing whether her heart was true to him.

Saying that he would return to Matching after Parliament was met, he begged her to let him know whether her heart was true to him.


She told no one of the letter, but she kept it, and read it over and over again in the silence and solitude of her room.

She told no one of the letter, but she kept it, and read it over and over again in the silence of her room.


She felt that she was guilty in thus reading it,--even in keeping it from her husband's knowledge; but though conscious of this guilt, though resolute almost in its commission, still she determined not to remain at Matching after her husband's departure,--not to undergo the danger of remaining there while Burgo Fitzgerald should be in the vicinity.

She felt that she was guilty in thus reading it; but she determined not to undergo the danger of remaining at Matching while Burgo Fitzgerald was nearby.


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.

I've a lot of letters I want to write tonight,


By-the-by, Mr. Bott is coming to dine here.

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.

, 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.


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.


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," 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.

It was clear 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.

, 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 over and done," Alice once said


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.

; "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.

She understood little of the state of her friend's heart


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.

; 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.

; 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.

Alice's love had been altogether of another kind - and


I will not say that there was no poetry in it, but I will say that 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.


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.

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.


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.


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.

I took courage to tell her once that a caged tiger would give her as much to do; and


She was angry at this, and 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.


But she would not admit that any other woman had persuaded her to such weakness.

; 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.

He was now completely hidden behind a sheet of the Times


Five or six other open papers were around him, and he had not spoken a word since he had commenced his present occupation.

, 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.