“I am sure that everybody would like her,” said Silverbridge.
“I like her. I like her very much.”
“I am so glad.”
“But still all this is a sorrow to me. When however he put that question to me about the world around her—as to those among whom her lot would be cast, I could not say that I thought she would be rejected.”
“Oh no!” The idea of rejecting Isabel!
“She has a brightness and a grace all her own,” continued the Duke, “which will ensure her acceptance in all societies.”
“Yes, yes;—it is just that, sir.”
“You will be a nine days’ wonder—the foolish young nobleman who chose to marry an American.”
“I think it will be just the other way up, sir—among the men.”
“But her place will I think be secure to her. That is what I told Mr. Boncassen.”
“It is all right with him then—now?”
“If you call it all right. You will understand of course that you are acting in opposition to my advice—and my wishes.”
“What am I to say, sir?” exclaimed Silverbridge, almost in despair. “When I love the girl better than my life, and when you tell me that she can be mine if I choose to take her; when I have asked her to be my wife, and have got her to say that she likes me; when her father has given way, and all the rest of it, would it be possible that I should say now that I will give her up?”
“My opinion is to go for nothing—in anything!” The Duke as he said this knew that he was expressing aloud a feeling which should have been restrained within his own bosom. It was natural that there should have been such plaints. The same suffering must be encountered in regard to Tregear and his daughter. In every way he had been thwarted. In every direction he was driven to yield. And yet now he had to undergo rebuke from his own son, because one of those inward plaints would force itself from his lips! Of course this girl was to be taken in among the Pallisers and treated with an idolatrous love—as perfect as though “all the blood of all the Howards” were running in her veins. What further inch of ground was there for a fight? And if the fight were over, why should he rob his boy of one sparkle from off the joy of his triumph? Silverbridge was now standing before him abashed by that plaint, inwardly sustained no doubt by the conviction of his great success, but subdued by his father’s wailing. “However—perhaps we had better let that pass,” said the Duke, with a long sigh. Then Silverbridge took his father’s hand, and looked up in his face. “I most sincerely hope that she may make you a good and loving wife,” said the Duke, “and that she may do her duty by you in that not easy sphere of life to which she will be called.”
“I am quite sure she will,” said Silverbridge, whose ideas as to Isabel’s duties were confined at present to a feeling that she would now have to give him kisses without stint.
“What I have seen of her personally recommends her to me,” said the Duke. “Some girls are fools—”
“That’s quite true, sir.”
“Who think that the world is to be nothing but dancing, and going to parties.”
“Many have been doing it for so many years,” said Silverbridge, “that they can’t understand that there should be an end of it.”
“A wife ought to feel the great responsibility of her position. I hope she will.”
“And the sooner she begins the better,” said Silverbridge stoutly.
“And now,” said the Duke, looking at his watch, “we might as well have lunch and go down to the House. I will walk with you if you please. It will be about time for each of us.” Then the son was forced to go down and witness the somewhat faded ceremony of seeing Parliament opened by three Lords sitting in commission before the throne. Whereas but for such stress as his father had laid upon him, he would have disregarded his parliamentary duties and have rushed at once up to Brook Street. As it was he was so handed over from one political pundit to another, was so buttonholed by Sir Timothy, so chaffed as to the address by Phineas Finn, and at last so occupied with the whole matter that he was compelled to sit in his place till he had heard Nidderdale make his speech. This the young Scotch Lord did so well, and received so much praise for the doing of it, and looked so well in his uniform, that Silverbridge almost regretted the opportunity he had lost. At seven the sitting was over, the speeches, though full of interest, having been shorter than usual. They had been full of interest, but nobody understood in the least what was going to happen. “I don’t know anything about the Prime Minister,” said Mr. Lupton as he left the House with our hero and another not very staunch supporter of the Government, “but I’ll back Sir Timothy to be the Leader of the House on the last day of the Session, against all comers. I don’t think it much matters who is Prime Minister nowadays.”
At half-past seven Silverbridge was at the door in Brook Street. Yes; Miss Boncassen was at home. The servant thought that she was upstairs dressing. Then Silverbridge made his way without further invitation into the drawing-room. There he remained alone for ten minutes. At last the door opened, and Mrs. Boncassen entered. “Dear Lord Silverbridge, who ever dreamed of seeing you? I thought all you Parliament gentlemen were going through your ceremonies. Isabel had a ticket and went down, and saw
