He had also told her to ask Mrs. Finn. Now this had become almost a matter of course. There had grown up from accidental circumstances so strong a bond between these two women, that it was taken for granted by both their husbands that they should be nearly always within reach of one another. And the two husbands were also on kindly, if not affectionate, terms with each other. The nature of the Duke’s character was such that, with a most loving heart, he was hardly capable of that opening out of himself to another which is necessary for positive friendship. There was a stiff reserve about him, of which he was himself only too conscious, which almost prohibited friendship. But he liked Mr. Finn both as a man and a member of his party, and was always satisfied to have him as a guest. The Duchess, therefore, had taken it for granted that Mrs. Finn would come to her—and that Mr. Finn would come also during any time that he might be able to escape from Ireland. But, when the invitation was verbally conveyed, Mr. Finn had gone to the Admiralty, and had already made his arrangements for going to sea, as a gallant sailor should. “We are going away in the ‘Black Watch’ for a couple of months,” said Mrs. Finn. Now the “Black Watch” was the Admiralty yacht.
“Heavens and earth!” ejaculated the Duchess.
“It is always done. The First Lord would have his epaulets stripped if he didn’t go to sea in August.”
“And must you go with him?”
“I have promised.”
“I think it very unkind—very hard upon me. Of course you knew that I should want you.”
“But if my husband wants me too?”
“Bother your husband! I wish with all my heart I had never helped to make up the match.”
“It would have been made up just the same, Lady Glen.”
“You know that I cannot get on without you. And he ought to know it too. There isn’t another person in the world that I can really say a thing to.”
“Why don’t you have Mrs. Grey?”
“She’s going to Persia after her husband. And then she is not wicked enough. She always lectured me, and she does it still. What do you think is going to happen?”
“Nothing terrible, I hope,” said Mrs. Finn, mindful of her husband’s new honours at the Admiralty, and hoping that the Duke might not have repeated his threat of resigning.
“We are going to Matching.”
“So I supposed.”
“And whom do you think we are going to have?”
“Not Major Pountney?”
“No;—not at my asking.”
“Nor Mr. Lopez?”
“Nor yet Mr. Lopez. Guess again.”
“I suppose there will be a dozen to guess.”
“No,” shrieked the Duchess. “There will only be one. I have asked one—at his special desire—and as you won’t come I shall ask nobody else. When I pressed him to name a second he named you. I’ll obey him to the letter. Now, my dear, who do you think is the chosen one—the one person who is to solace the perturbed spirit of the Prime Minister for the three months of the autumn?”
“Mr. Warburton, I should say.”
“Oh, Mr. Warburton! No doubt Mr. Warburton will come as a part of his luggage, and possibly half-a-dozen Treasury clerks. He declares, however, that there is nothing to do, and therefore Mr. Warburton’s strength may alone suffice to help him to do it. There is to be one unnecessary guest—unnecessary, that is, for official purpose; though—oh—so much needed for his social happiness. Guess once more.”
“Knowing the spirit of mischief that is in you—perhaps it is Lady Rosina.”
“Of course it is Lady Rosina,” said the Duchess, clapping her hands together. “And I should like to know what you mean by a spirit of mischief! I asked him, and he himself said that he particularly wished to have Lady Rosina at Matching. Now, I’m not a jealous woman—am I?”
“Not of Lady Rosina.”
“I don’t think they’ll do any harm together, but it is particular, you know. However, she is to come. And nobody else is to come. I did count upon you.” Then Mrs. Finn counselled her very seriously as to the bad taste of such a joke, explaining to her that the Duke had certainly not intended that her invitations should be confined to Lady Rosina. But it was not all joke with the Duchess. She had been driven almost to despair, and was very angry with her husband. He had brought the thing upon himself, and must now make the best of it. She would ask nobody else. She declared that there was nobody whom she could ask with propriety. She was tired of asking. Let her ask whom she would, he was dissatisfied. The only two people he cared to see were Lady Rosina and the old Duke. She had asked Lady Rosina for his sake. Let him ask his old friend himself if he pleased.
The Duke and Duchess with all the family went down together, and Mr. Warburton went with them. The Duchess had said not a word more to her husband about his guests, nor had he alluded to the subject. But each was labouring under a conviction that the other was misbehaving, and with that feeling it was impossible that there should be confidence between them. He busied himself with books and papers—always turning over those piles of newspapers to see what evil was said of himself—and speaking only now and again to his private Secretary. She engaged herself with the children or pretended to read a novel. Her heart was sore
