The Prime Minister

minute to minute. He would rather give up politics altogether and shut himself up in absolute seclusion than find himself subject to the insolence of any Pountney that might address him. With his wife he found Mrs. Finn. Now for this lady personally he entertained what for him was a warm regard. In various matters of much importance he and she had been brought together, and she had, to his thinking, invariably behaved well. And an intimacy had been established which had enabled him to be at ease with her⁠—so that her presence was often a comfort to him. But at the present moment he had not wished to find anyone with his wife, and felt that she was in his way. “Perhaps I am disturbing you,” he said in a tone of voice that was solemn and almost funereal.

“Not at all,” said the Duchess, who was in high spirits. “I want to get your promise now about Silverbridge. Don’t mind her. Of course she knows everything.” To be told that anybody knew everything was another shock to him. “I have just got a letter from Mr. Lopez.” Could it be right that his wife should be corresponding on such a subject with a person so little known as this Mr. Lopez? “May I tell him that he shall have your interest when the seat is vacant?”

“Certainly not,” said the Duke, with a scowl that was terrible even to his wife. “I wished to speak to you, but I wished to speak to you alone.”

“I beg a thousand pardons,” said Mrs. Finn, preparing to go.

“Don’t stir, Marie,” said the Duchess; “he is going to be cross.”

“If Mrs. Finn will allow me, with every feeling of the most perfect respect and sincerest regard, to ask her to leave me with you for a few minutes, I shall be obliged. And if, with her usual hearty kindness, she will pardon my abruptness⁠—” Then he could not go on, his emotion being too great; but he put out his hand, and taking hers raised it to his lips and kissed it. The moment had become too solemn for any further hesitation as to the lady’s going. The Duchess for a moment was struck dumb, and Mrs. Finn, of course, left the room.

“In the name of heaven, Plantagenet, what is the matter?”

“Who is Major Pountney?”

“Who is Major Pountney! How on earth should I know? He is⁠—Major Pountney. He is about everywhere.”

“Do not let him be asked into any house of mine again. But that is a trifle.”

“Anything about Major Pountney must, I should think, be a trifle. Have tidings come that the heavens are going to fall? Nothing short of that could make you so solemn.”

“In the first place, Glencora, let me ask you not to speak to me again about the seat for Silverbridge. I am not at present prepared to argue the matter with you, but I have resolved that I will know nothing about the election. As soon as the seat is vacant, if it should be vacated, I shall take care that my determination be known in Silverbridge.”

“Why should you abandon your privileges in that way? It is sheer weakness.”

“The interference of any peer is unconstitutional.”

“There is Braxon,” said the Duchess energetically, “where the Marquis of Crumber returns the member regularly, in spite of all their Reform bills; and Bamford, and Cobblersborough;⁠—and look at Lord Lumley with a whole county in his pocket, not to speak of two boroughs! What nonsense, Plantagenet! Anything is constitutional, or anything is unconstitutional, just as you choose to look at it.” It was clear that the Duchess had really studied the subject carefully.

“Very well, my dear, let it be nonsense. I only beg to assure you that it is my intention, and I request you to act accordingly. And there is another thing I have to say to you. I shall be sorry to interfere in any way with the pleasure which you may derive from society, but as long as I am burdened with the office which has been imposed upon me, I will not again entertain any guests in my own house.”

“Plantagenet!”

“You cannot turn the people out who are here now; but I beg that they may be allowed to go as the time comes, and that their places may not be filled by further invitations.”

“But further invitations have gone out ever so long ago, and have been accepted. You must be ill, my dear.”

“Ill at ease⁠—yes. At any rate let none others be sent out.” Then he remembered a kindly purpose which he had formed early in the day, and fell back upon that. “I should, however, be glad if you would ask Lady Rosina De Courcy to remain here.” The Duchess stared at him, really thinking now that something was amiss with him. “The whole thing is a failure and I will have no more of it. It is degrading me.” Then without allowing her a moment in which to answer him, he marched back to his own room.

But even here his spirit was not as yet at rest. That Major must not go unpunished. Though he hated all fuss and noise he must do something. So he wrote as follows to the Major:⁠—

The Duke of Omnium trusts that Major Pountney will not find it inconvenient to leave Gatherum Castle shortly. Should Major Pountney wish to remain at the Castle over the night, the Duke of Omnium hopes that he will not object to be served with his dinner and with his breakfast in his own room. A carriage and horses will be ready for Major Pountney’s use, to take him to Silverbridge, as soon as Major Pountney may express to the servants his wish to that effect.

Gatherum Castle⁠—December, 18⁠—.

This note the Duke sent by the hands of his own servant, having said enough to the man as to the carriage and the possible dinner in the Major’s bedroom, to make the man understand almost exactly what had