Their marriage, in a point of view regarding business, had been a complete success,--and a success, too, when on the one side, that of Lady Glencora, there had been terrible dangers of shipwreck, and when on his side also there had been some little fears of a mishap.

business arrangement, their marriage had been a complete success - and a success, too, when on Lady Glencora's side there had been terrible dangers of shipwreck, and on his side also there had been some little fears of a mishap.


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


_Idoneus puellis_ he never could have been.


So he married Lady Glencora and was satisfied.


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


One cause of unhappiness, or rather one doubt as to his entire good fortune, was beginning to make itself felt, as his wife had to her sorrow already discovered.

One cause of care was beginning to make itself felt


He had hoped that before this he might have heard that she would give him a child.

: he had hoped that his wife might soon give him a child.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


His voice in council was esteemed to be very great.


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


He never grew either hot or cold in a cause.


He was never reckless in politics, and never cowardly.

He was never reckless in politics, nor cowardly.


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


The Duke was always in awe about his wife.

The Duke was always uneasy about his wife.


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

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


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


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

No breath of slander had ever touched her name.


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


Nor was she a spendthrift, or a gambler.


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


How could he get at Mrs. Conway Sparkes?


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


And there was a third politician staying at Matching Priory who had never yet risen to the rank of a statesman, but who had his hopes.


This was Mr. Bott, the member for St. Helens, whom Lady Glencora had described as a man who stood about, with red hair,--and perhaps told tales of her to her husband.

: Mr. Bott, the member for St. Helens, whom Lady Glencora had described as a man who stood about, with red hair, and perhaps told tales of her to her husband.


Mr. Bott was a person who certainly had had some success in life and who had won it for himself.


He was not very young, being at this time only just on the right side of fifty.


He was now enjoying his second session in Parliament, having been returned as a pledged disciple of the Manchester school.

, was now enjoying his second session in Parliament


Nor had he apparently been false to his pledges.


At St. Helens he was still held to be a good man and true.


But they who sat on the same side with him in the House and watched his political manoeuvres, knew that he was striving hard to get his finger into the public pie.

; but they who watched his political manuvres in the House knew that he was striving hard to get his finger into the public pie.


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


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

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


It was supposed that he did understand something of finance.


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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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


He was a tall, wiry, strong man, with a bald head and bristly red beard, which, however, was cut off from his upper and under lip.


This was unfortunate, as had he hidden his mouth he would not have been in so marked a degree an ugly man.

unfortunately did not hide his thin mouth.


His upper lip was very long, and his mouth was mean.


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


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

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


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

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


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


She instantly saw that her husband did not like this.


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


When it was known among outside politicians that the Duke of St. Bungay was staying at Matching Priory, outside politicians became more sure than ever that Mr. Palliser would be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer.

When it was known that the Duke of St. Bungay was staying at Matching Priory, people became more sure than ever that Mr. Palliser would be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer


The old minister and the young minister were of course arranging matters together.

, and that the old minister and the young one were arranging matters together.


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


He had already tied Fortune to his chariot wheels.


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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


"He understands that, though she may not."


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


Two thousand pounds he has had, I believe?"


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


There had been little, she thought, nay, nothing of a father's loving tenderness in his words to her.

There had been nothing of a father's loving tenderness in his words


If he had spoken to her differently, might she not even now have confessed everything to him?


But herein Alice accused him wrongfully.


Tenderness from him on this subject had, we may say, become impossible.

herself had made tenderness on this subject impossible.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


The reader will, perhaps, remember their last interview.


He had come to her after her letter to him from Westmoreland, and had asked her to seal their reconciliation with a kiss; but she had refused him.

, when he had asked for a kiss; but she had refused him.


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

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


Then he had turned from her in anger, declaring to her honestly that he was angry.


Since that he had borrowed her money,--had made two separate assaults upon her purse,--and was now come to tell her of the results.

; and since then, he had borrowed her money twice.


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

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


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

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


It must be confessed that she already feared him.


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


She looked at him furtively, and perceived that the gash on his face was nearly closed.

But she perceived that the gash on his face was nearly closed


The mark of existing anger was not there.


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

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


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


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


she said. "I wish you joy with my whole heart."


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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


But he did not intend to rest satisfied with this.


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


Her playful manner at once deserted her.


Why had he made this foolish attempt to be tender?


For a few minutes he sat silent, fingering some article belonging to her which was lying on the table.


It was a small steel paper-knife, of which the handle was cast and gilt; a thing of no great value, of which the price may have been five shillings.

a small steel paper-knife, of no great value, which was lying on the table.


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


I was simply unfortunate in the article I selected.


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

He picked up a little folding ivory ruler.


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


He should have been more of a rascal or less.

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


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

He should have been content with simply acquiring her money.


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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


Here she looked at him again, and met his eyes.


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

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


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

"And, Alice, when you again consented to be my wife


I thought that I still understood you then.

, I thought that I still understood you.


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


"Not now, George; you are angry, and I will not speak to you in your anger."


Do you not know that you are treating me badly?"


"I know that my head aches, and that I am very wretched.


"There, then, is your gift," said he, and he threw the rule over on to the sofa behind her.

"There, then, is your gift," said he, and he threw the ruler on to the sofa behind her.


"And there is the trumpery trinket which I had hoped you would have worn for my sake."


Whereupon something which he had taken from his waistcoat-pocket was thrown violently into the fender, beneath the fire-grate.

Something which he had taken from his waistcoat-pocket was thrown violently into the fender, beneath the fire-grate.


He then walked with quick steps to the door; but when his hand was on the handle, he turned.

He then walked quickly to the door; but when his hand was on the handle, he turned.


"Alice," he said, "when I am gone, try to think honestly of your conduct to me."


Then he went, and she remained still, till she heard the front door close behind him.

Then he went, and she remained still, till she heard the front door close.


When she was sure that he was gone, her first movement was made in search of the trinket.

When she was sure that he was gone, her first movement was to search for the trinket.


I fear that this was not dignified on her part; but I think that it was natural.

This was not very dignified; but I think that it was natural.


It was not that she had any desire for the jewel, or any curiosity even to see it.


She would very much have preferred that he should have brought nothing of the kind to her.


But she had a feminine reluctance that anything of value should be destroyed without a purpose.

but she had a reluctance that anything of value should be destroyed without a purpose.


So she took the shovel, and poked among the ashes, and found the ring which her cousin had thrown there.


It was a valuable ring, bearing a ruby on it between two small diamonds.

It was a valuable ring, with a ruby between two small diamonds


Such at least, she became aware, had been its bearing; but one of the side stones had been knocked out by the violence with which the ring had been flung.


She searched even for this, scorching her face and eyes, but in vain.


Then she made up her mind that the diamond should be lost for ever, and that it should go out among the cinders into the huge dust-heaps of the metropolis.

before deciding that the diamond should be lost for ever amongst the cinders.


Better that, though it was distasteful to her feminine economy, than the other alternative of setting the servants to search, and thereby telling them something of what had been done.


When her search was over, she placed the ring on the mantelpiece; but she knew that it would not do to leave it there,--so she folded it up carefully in a new sheet of note-paper, and put it in the drawer of her desk.

Then she folded the ring up carefully in a sheet of note-paper, and put it in the drawer of her desk.


After that she sat herself down at the table to think what she would do; but her head was, in truth, racked with pain, and on that occasion she could bring her thoughts to no conclusion.

After that she sat down at the table to think; but her head was racked with pain, and she could bring her thoughts to no conclusion.


It cannot perhaps fairly be said that George Vavasor was an unhospitable man, seeing that it was his custom to entertain his friends occasionally at Greenwich, Richmond, or such places; and he would now and again have a friend to dine with him at his club.

George Vavasor was not an unhospitable man. He would sometimes invite a friend to dine with him at his club.


But he never gave breakfasts, dinners, or suppers under his own roof.

But he never gave dinners under his own roof.


During a short period of his wine-selling career, at which time he had occupied handsome rooms over his place of business in New Burlington Street, he had presided at certain feasts given to customers or expectant customers by the firm; but he had not found this employment to his taste, and had soon relinquished it to one of the other partners.

During his wine-selling career, he had presided at feasts given to customers by the firm; but he had not enjoyed it.


Since that he had lived in lodgings in Cecil Street,--down at the bottom of that retired nook, near to the river and away from the Strand.

Since then he had moved to lodgings in Cecil Street, a quiet area near the river.


Here he had simply two rooms on the first floor, and hither his friends came to him very rarely.

Here he had two rooms on the first floor, and his friends came to him very rarely


A stray man might now and then pass an hour with him here; but on such occasions the chances were that the visit had some reference, near or distant, to affairs of business.


Eating or drinking there was never any to be found here by the most intimate of his allies.


His lodgings were his private retreat, and they were so private that but few of his friends knew where he lived.

Only a few of his friends knew where he lived.


And had it been possible he would have wished that no one should have known his whereabouts.


I am not aware that he had any special reason for this peculiarity, or that there was anything about his mode of life that required hiding; but he was a man who had always lived as though secrecy in certain matters might at any time become useful to him.

He was a man who had always lived as though secrecy might be useful to him.


He had a mode of dressing himself when he went out at night that made it almost impossible that any one should recognise him.

When he went out at night he dressed in a style that meant nobody would recognise him.


The people at his lodgings did not even know that he had relatives, and his nearest relatives hardly knew that he had lodgings.

The people at his lodgings did not even know that he had relatives.


Even Kate had never been at the rooms in Cecil Street, and addressed all her letters to his place of business or his club.

Kate had never been to Cecil Street, and addressed all her letters to his club.


He was a man who would bear no inquiry into himself.


If he had been out of view for a month, and his friends asked him where he had been, he always answered the question falsely, or left it unanswered.

If he had been away for a month, and his friends asked him where he had been, he answered the question falsely, or left it unanswered.


There are many men of whom everybody knows all about all their belongings;--as to whom everybody knows where they live, whither they go, what is their means, and how they spend it.


But there are others of whom no man knows anything, and George Vavasor was such a one.


For myself I like the open babbler the best.


Babbling may be a weakness, but to my thinking mystery is a vice.


Vavasor also maintained another little establishment, down in Oxfordshire; but the two establishments did not even know of each other's existence.


There was a third, too, very closely hidden from the world's eye, which shall be nameless; but of the establishment in Oxfordshire he did sometimes speak, in very humble words, among his friends.

There was a third, too, very closely hidden from the world's eye, which shall be nameless; but of Roebury, the place in Oxfordshire, he did sometimes speak among his friends.


When he found himself among hunting men, he would speak of his two nags at Roebury, saying that he had never yet been able to mount a regular hunting stable, and that he supposed he never would; but that there were at Roebury two indifferent beasts of his if any one chose to buy them.

When talking about hunting, he would speak of his two nags at Roebury, saying that they were for sale.


And men very often did buy Vavasor's horses.


When he was on them they always went well and sold themselves readily.

When he rode them they always went well and sold themselves readily.


And though he thus spoke of two, and perhaps did not keep more during the summer, he always seemed to have horses enough when he was down in the country.

And though he spoke of two, and perhaps did not keep more during the summer, he always seemed to have horses to hunt with when he was in the country.


No one even knew George Vavasor not to hunt because he was short of stuff.


And here, at Roebury, he kept a trusty servant, an ancient groom with two little bushy grey eyes which looked as though they could see through a stable door.

At Roebury, he kept an ancient, trusted groom; and


Many were the long whisperings which George and Bat Smithers carried on at the stable door, in the very back depth of the yard attached to the hunting inn at Roebury.

many were the long whisperings between George and Bat Smithers at the stable door, behind the yard of the hunting inn.


Bat regarded his master as a man wholly devoted to horses, but often wondered why he was not more regular in his sojournings in Oxfordshire.


Of any other portion of his master's life Bat knew nothing.


Bat could give the address of his master's club in London, but he could give no other address.


But though Vavasor's private lodgings were so very private, he had, nevertheless, taken some trouble in adorning them.

But though Vavasor's lodgings were so very private, he had, nevertheless, adorned them with care.


The furniture in the sitting-room was very neat, and the book-shelves were filled with volumes that shone with gilding on their backs.

The furniture was very neat, and the book-shelves were filled.


The inkstand, the paper-weight, the envelope case on his writing-table were all handsome.


He had a single good portrait of a woman's head hanging on one of his walls.

He had a good portrait of a woman's head hanging on a wall.


He had a special place adapted for his pistols, others for his foils, and again another for his whips.

He had special places for his pistols, his fencing foils, and his hunting whips.


The room was as pretty a bachelor's room as you would wish to enter, but you might see, by the position of the single easy-chair that was brought forward, that it was seldom appropriated to the comfort of more than one person.

The room was a pretty bachelor's room, but it had only one easy-chair.


Here he sat lounging over his breakfast, late on a Sunday morning in September, when all the world was out of town.

Here George sat lounging over his breakfast, late on a Sunday morning in September,


He was reading a letter which had just been brought down to him from his club.

reading a letter from his sister Kate which had just been brought to him from his club.


Though the writer of it was his sister Kate, she had not been privileged to address it to his private lodgings.


He read it very quickly, running rapidly over its contents, and then threw it aside from him as though it were of no moment, keeping, however, an enclosure in his hand.

He read it very quickly, and then threw it aside as though it were of no importance, keeping, however, an enclosure in his hand.


And yet the letter was of much moment, and made him think deeply.

And yet the letter was of much importance, and made him think deeply.


"If I did it at all," said he, "it would be more with the object of cutting him out than with any other."

"If I did it at all," said he, "it would be more to cut him out than any other reason."


The reader will hardly require to be told that the him in question was John Grey, and that Kate's letter was one instigating her brother to renew his love affair with Alice.

The him in question was John Grey, and Kate's letter was urging her brother to renew his love affair with Alice.


And Vavasor was in truth well inclined to renew it, and would have begun the renewing it at once, had he not doubted his power with his cousin.

And Vavasor was inclined to renew it, and would have begun the renewing it at once, if he had not doubted his power with his cousin.


Indeed it has been seen that he had already attempted some commencement of such renewal at Basle.

Indeed he had already tried some such renewal at Basle.


He had told Kate more than once that Alice's fortune was not much, and that her beauty was past its prime; and he would no doubt repeat the same objections to his sister with some pretence of disinclination.

He had told Kate that Alice's fortune was not much, and that her beauty was past its prime;


It was not his custom to show his hand to the players at any game that he played.


But he was, in truth, very anxious to obtain from Alice a second promise of her hand.

but he was, in truth, very anxious to obtain from Alice a second promise of her hand.


How soon after that he might marry her, would be another question.


Perhaps it was not Alice's beauty that he coveted, nor yet her money exclusively.

Perhaps it was not Alice's beauty that he coveted, nor her money alone.


Nevertheless he thought her very beautiful, and was fully aware that her money would be of great service to him.

He thought her very beautiful, and was fully aware that her money would be of great use to him.


But I believe that he was true in that word that he spoke to himself, and that his chief attraction was the delight which he would have in robbing Mr. Grey of his wife.

But I believe that he spoke truly to himself - that his chief attraction was the delight which he would have in robbing Mr. Grey of his wife.


Alice had once been his love, had clung to his side, had whispered love to him, and he had enough of the weakness of humanity in him to feel the soreness arising from her affection for another.


When she broke away from him he had acknowledged that he had been wrong, and when, since her engagement with Mr. Grey, he had congratulated her, he had told her in his quiet, half-whispered, impressive words how right she was; but not the less, therefore, did he feel himself hurt that John Grey should be her lover.

although he had been in the wrong, he had enough human weakness to feel hurt that John Grey should be her lover.


And when he had met this man he had spoken well of him to his sister, saying that he was a gentleman, a scholar, and a man of parts; but not the less had he hated him from the first moment of his seeing him.

And when he had met the man, he had hated him.


Such hatred under such circumstances was almost pardonable.


But George Vavasor, when he hated, was apt to follow up his hatred with injury.


He could not violently dislike a man and yet not wish to do him any harm.


At present, as he sat lounging in his chair, he thought that he would like to marry his cousin Alice; but he was quite sure that he would like to be the means of putting a stop to the proposed marriage between Alice and John Grey.

At present, as he sat lounging in his chair, he thought that he would like to marry his cousin Alice; but he was quite sure that he would like to stop the marriage between Alice and John Grey.


Kate had been very false to her friend, and had sent up to her brother the very letter which Alice had written to her after that meeting in Queen Anne Street which was described in the last chapter,--or rather a portion of it, for with the reserve common to women she had kept back the other half.

Kate had been very false to her friend, and had sent to her brother part of the letter which Alice had written to her after seeing John Grey.


Alice had declared to herself that she would be sure of her cousin's sympathy, and had written out all her heart on the matter, as was her wont when writing to Kate.

Alice had written out all her heart on the matter.


"But you must understand," she wrote, "that all that I said to him went with him for nothing.

"But you must understand," she wrote, "that all that I said to him had no effect.


I had determined to make him know that everything between us must be over, but I failed.

I tried to make him know that everything between us must be over, but I failed.


I found that I had no words at command, but that he was able to talk to me as though I were a child.

He talked to me as though I were a child.


He told me that I was sick and full of phantasies, and bade me change the air.

He told me that I was sick and full of fantasies, and needed a change of air.


As he spoke in this way, I could not help feeling how right he was to use me so; but I felt also that he, in his mighty superiority, could never be a fitting husband for a creature so inferior to him as I am.

I could not blame him; but I felt also that he, in his mighty superiority, could never be a fitting husband for a creature so inferior to him as I am.


Though I altogether failed to make him understand that it was so, every moment that we were together made me more fixed in my resolution."

Though I altogether failed to make him understand this, every moment that we were together made me more fixed in my resolution."


This letter from Alice to Kate, Vavasor read over and over again, though Kate's letter to himself, which was the longer one, he had thrown aside after the first glance.

This letter from Alice to Kate, Vavasor read over and over again.


There was nothing that he could learn from that.


He was as good a judge of the manner in which he would play his own game as Kate could be; but in this matter he was to learn how he would play his game from a knowledge of the other girl's mind.

He wished to learn how he would play his game from a knowledge of Alice's mind.


"She'll never marry him, at any rate," he said to himself, "and she is right.


He'd make an upper servant of her; very respectable, no doubt, but still only an upper servant.


Now with me;--well, I hardly know what I should make of her.

Now with me;- well, I hardly know what I should make of her.


I cannot think of myself as a man married."

I cannot think of myself as a married man."


Then he threw her letter after Kate's, and betook himself to his newspaper and his cigar.


It was two hours after this, and he still wore his dressing-gown, and he was still lounging in his easy-chair, when the waiting-maid at the lodgings brought him up word that a gentleman wished to see him.

Two hours later, when he was still lounging in his dressing-gown, the waiting-maid at the lodgings brought word that a gentleman wished to see him.


Vavasor kept no servant of his own except that confidential groom down at Bicester.


It was a rule with him that people could be better served and cheaper served by other people's servants than by their own.


Even in the stables at Bicester the innkeeper had to find what assistance was wanted, and charge for it in the bill.


He did not deem it impracticable to put on his own trousers without having a man standing at his foot to hold up the leg of the garment.


A valet about a man knows a great deal of a man's ways, and therefore George had no valet.


"Does the gentleman look like a public-house keeper?"


And the gentleman was a public-house keeper.


Vavasor was pretty sure of his visitor before he desired the servant to give him entrance.


It was Mr. Grimes from the "Handsome Man" public-house and tavern, in the Brompton Road, and he had come by appointment to have a little conversation with Mr. Vavasor on matters political.

gentleman was Mr. Grimes from the "Handsome Man" tavern, in the Brompton Road, and he had come by appointment to have a little conversation on political matters.


Mr. Grimes was a man who knew that business was business, and as such had some considerable weight in his own neighbourhood.

Mr. Grimes had considerable weight in his own neighbourhood, and


With him politics was business, as well as beer, and omnibus-horses, and foreign wines;--in the fabrication of which latter article Mr. Grimes was supposed to have an extended experience.


To such as him, when intent on business, Mr. Vavasor was not averse to make known the secrets of his lodging-house; and now, when the idle of London world was either at morning church or still in bed, Mr. Grimes had come out by appointment to do a little political business with the lately-rejected member for the Chelsea Districts.


Vavasor had been, as I have said, lately rejected, and the new member who had beaten him at the hustings had sat now for one session in parliament.

Vavasor had been, as I have said, lately rejected as a member of Parliament for Chelsea, and the new member who had beaten him would sit in Parliament for one more session.


Under his present reign he was destined to the honour of one other session, and then the period of his existing glory,--for which he was said to have paid nearly six thousand pounds,--would be over.

Then his period of glory - for which he was said to have paid nearly six thousand pounds - would be over.


But he might be elected again, perhaps for a full period of six sessions; and it might be hoped that this second election would be conducted on more economical principles.

But he might be elected again; and it might be hoped that this second election would be conducted more economically.


To this, the economical view of the matter, Mr. Grimes was very much opposed, and was now waiting upon George Vavasor in Cecil Street, chiefly with the object of opposing the new member's wishes on this head.

Mr. Grimes was very much opposed to the economical view, and was now visiting George Vavasor with the object of opposing the new member on this head.


No doubt Mr. Grimes was personally an advocate for the return of Mr. Vavasor, and would do all in his power to prevent the re-election of the young Lord Kilfenora, whose father, the Marquis of Bunratty, had scattered that six thousand pounds among the electors and non-electors of Chelsea; but his main object was that money should be spent.

No doubt Mr. Grimes was personally in favour of Mr. Vavasor, and would do all in his power to prevent the re-election of the young Lord Kilfenora; but his main object was that money should be spent.


"'Tain't altogether for myself," he said to a confidential friend in the same way of business; "I don't get so much on it.


May be I've a bill agin some of those gents not paid this werry moment.


If the game dies away, it'll never be got up again;--never.


Anybody'd go and get hisself elected if we was to let the game go by!"


And so, that the game might not go by, Mr. Grimes was now present in Mr. George Vavasor's rooms.


"Well Mr. Grimes," said George, "how are you this morning?"


If every man were as punctual as you are, the world would go like clock-work; wouldn't it?"


"Business is business, Mr. Vavasor," said the publican, after having made his salute, and having taken his chair with some little show of mock modesty.

"Times is very bad, Mr. Vavasor," said the publican.


If I didn't stick to that, nothing wouldn't ever stick to me; and nothing doesn't much as it is.


What was the Devil made for, except that they should be bad?


But I should have thought you publicans were the last men who ought to complain."

But I should have thought you publicans were doing well."


"Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor; why, I suppose of all the men as is put upon, we're put upon the worst.

"Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor; we're the worst put upon of men.


What's the good of drawing of beer, if the more you draw the more you don't make.


Yesterday as ever was was Saturday, and we drawed three pound ten and nine.

Yesterday was Saturday, yet we only took three pound ten and nine.


What'll that come to, Mr. Vavasor, when you reckons it up with the brewer?


But I know you don't sell a pint of beer without getting a profit out of it."


If I hadn't nothink to look to but beer I couldn't keep a house over my head; no I couldn't.

If I had nothink to look to but beer I couldn't keep a house over my head; no I couldn't.


That house of mine belongs to Meux's people; and very good people they are too;--have made a sight of money; haven't they, Mr. Vavasor?


I has to get my beer from them in course.


But if I sells their stuff as I gets it, there ain't a halfpenny coming to me out of a gallon.

But if I sells that beer as I gets it, there ain't a halfpenny coming to me out of a gallon."


"But then you don't sell it as you get it.


I'm not going to tell you a lie, Mr. Vavasor.


You know what's what as well as I do, and a sight better, I expect.


There's a dozen different ways of handling beer, Mr. Vavasor.


But what's the use of that, when they can take four or five pounds a day over the counter for their rot-gut stuff at the 'Cadogan Arms,' and I can't do no better nor yet perhaps so well, for a real honest glass of beer.


It's my belief the more you poison their liquor, the more the people likes it!"


Mr. Grimes was a stout man, not very tall, with a mottled red face, and large protruding eyes.

Mr. Grimes was a stout man dressed all in black, with a mottled red face, and large protruding eyes


As regards his own person, Mr. Grimes might have been taken as a fair sample of the English innkeeper, as described for many years past.

: a fair sample of the English innkeeper.


But in his outer garments he was very unlike that description.


He wore a black, swallow-tailed coat, made, however, to set very loose upon his back, a black waistcoat, and black pantaloons.


He carried, moreover, in his hands a black chimney-pot hat.


Not only have the top-boots and breeches vanished from the costume of innkeepers, but also the long, particoloured waistcoat, and the birds'-eye fogle round their necks.


They get themselves up to look like Dissenting ministers or undertakers, except that there is still a something about their rosy gills which tells a tale of the spigot and corkscrew.


Mr. Grimes had only just finished the tale of his own hard ways as a publican, when the door-bell was again rung.

He had just finished speaking when the door-bell was again rung.


"There's Scruby," said George Vavasor, "and now we can go to business."

"There's Scruby," said George Vavasor, "and now we can get down to business."


Before the day came on which Alice was to go to Matching Priory, she had often regretted that she had been induced to make the promise, and yet she had as often resolved that there was no possible reason why she should not go to Matching Priory.

Before she left for Matching Priory, Alice regretted that she had promised to go.

Chapter 21: Alice Is Taught to Grow Upwards, Towards the Light


But she feared this commencement of a closer connection with her great relations.

She feared this closer connection with her great relations.


She had told herself so often that she was quite separated from them, that the slight accident of blood in no way tied her to them or them to her,--this lesson had been so thoroughly taught to her by the injudicious attempts of Lady Macleod to teach an opposite lesson, that she did not like the idea of putting aside the effect of that teaching.

She had told herself so often that she was quite separated from them that she did not to put her idea aside.


And perhaps she was a little afraid of the great folk whom she might probably meet at her cousin's house.

And perhaps she was a little afraid of the great folk whom she might meet at her cousin's house.


Lady Glencora herself she had liked,--and had loved too with that momentary love which certain circumstances of our life will sometimes produce, a love which is strong while it lasts, but which can be laid down when the need of it is passed.

Lady Glencora herself she had liked - and loved too, with that momentary love which is strong while it lasts, but which can be laid down when the need of it is passed.


She had liked and loved Lady Glencora, and had in no degree been afraid of her during those strange visitings in Queen Anne Street;--but she was by no means sure that she should like Lady Glencora in the midst of her grandeur and surrounded by the pomp of her rank.

However, she was by no means sure that she should like Lady Glencora in the midst of her grandeur and pomp.


She would have no other friend or acquaintance in that house, and feared that she might find herself desolate, cold, and wounded in her pride.

She would have no other acquaintance in that house.


She had been tricked into the visit, too, or rather had tricked herself into it.


She had been sure that there had been a joint scheme between her cousin and Lady Midlothian, and could not resist the temptation of repudiating it in her letter to Lady Glencora.


But there had been no such scheme; she had wronged Lady Glencora, and had therefore been unable to resist her second request.


But she felt unhappy, fearing that she would be out of her element, and more than once half made up her mind to excuse herself.

She felt unhappy, fearing that she would be out of her element, and half made up her mind to excuse herself.


Her aunt had, from the first, thought well of her going, believing that it might probably be the means of reconciling her to Mr. Grey.


Moreover, it was a step altogether in the right direction.


Lady Glencora would, if she lived, become a Duchess, and as she was decidedly Alice's cousin, of course Alice should go to her house when invited.

for Lady Glencora would become a Duchess.


It must be acknowledged that Lady Macleod was not selfish in her worship of rank.


She had played out her game in life, and there was no probability that she would live to be called cousin by a Duchess of Omnium.


She bade Alice go to Matching Priory, simply because she loved her niece, and therefore wished her to live in the best and most eligible way within her reach.

She bade Alice go to Matching Priory, simply because she loved her niece, and therefore wished her to live in the best way within her reach.


"I think you owe it as a duty to your family to go," said Lady Macleod.


What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew.

What letters had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew.


She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent.

She steadily refused to answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if she were asked again, she would answer by telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent.


"I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further.

"I am becoming an old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I won't interfere any further.


Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good."

Whatever I have said I have always meant for your good."


Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank.

Then Alice kissed her aunt, and tried to explain that she felt grateful; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know.


"And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice.


Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory.

Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November.


She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day.

She was to sleep in London one night, and go to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day.


Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern.

Her father met her at the Great Western Station, and was to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern.


He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning.


"I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together.


"Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do.

"Why? because it's the proper thing to do.


You know I've never said much to you about these people.


They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too."

I know they hate the name of Vavasor - although the name is a deal older than theirs, and the family too."


"And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right.

"So I don't understand why you think I'm right


If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go."


Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary.

"Because rank and wealth are advantages."


Why else does everybody want to get them?"


"But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory."


Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have.

On the whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have.


I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them.


That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise.


But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards.

; but men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards.


Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer.

Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world.


I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying.


It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do."


Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him.

Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile.


It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now.

It was very seldom that he lectured her.


"Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab.

"Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab at their house.


Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club.


On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George.


"I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G.

"I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory tomorrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening, say at nine? G. V."


V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity.


She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required.


How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London?

began wondering how George had heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London?


Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was?

Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements?


As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room.

At nine she awaited him in the drawing-room.


"I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said.


He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then.


Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know."


"How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?"


said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?"


Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say."


I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way."

I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him that way."


"And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow?

"And did he tell you also that I was going tomorrow?"


He must have known all about it very accurately."


"No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going.

"No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me.


Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself.


She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching.

But she never mentioned it till I told her that I knew all about your journey to Matching.


I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark."


The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother.


And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent.


"I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her.


"It was but the other day that we were such dear friends!

"The other day we were such dear friends!


and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban.

and now it seems that we are quite estranged; nay, worse; that I am under some ban.


Have I done anything to offend you, Alice?"


If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are."


Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation?

Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your freedom?


I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you."

If you had resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you."


And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers?


I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it."


Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer.


"If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it."


For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering.


He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her.


She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce.

She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar, and the fierce brightness of his eyes.


She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also.


"I think that you have such a right," she said at last.


"I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it."

"I think that you have a right to ask," she said at last, "but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it."


"By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense!


If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology."

If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can apologise."


"Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me.

"Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped, I may acknowledge it, if it is explained to me.


But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution."


"Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful."

"Then I will be frank with you, George, though it may be very painful."


She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face.

She paused again, looking at him to see if he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, with no mercy in his face.


"Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me.

"Your sister has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of an engagement between you and me.


You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head.


"I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes.

"Then I am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes.


"I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard."


"Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew.

"Well," he said, "You are an honest woman, Alice, the honestest I ever knew.


I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?"

Now, we may be friends again; may we not?"


And he extended his hand to her across the table.


"Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it."

"Yes," she said doubtingly, "certainly, if you wish it."


She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge.


"I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand.


"And I may now talk about your new freedom?"


A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering.

A woman does not do what I have done without great suffering.


I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it."


"But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?"

"But this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?"


There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it."

There was something now in his voice so bright that she answered him cheerfully.
"I don't see what you can have to say about it."


Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser."

Mind you make friends with Mr. Palliser."


You must read all the blue books about finance.


That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser.


"He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt."


But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer?


"I think I shall get returned at this next election."


"And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes."

"And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry; or rather the new ministry, for of course there will be changes."