When he went down into the drawing-room he was surprised to find another old friend sitting there alone. “Mr. Finn,” said the old lady, “I hope I see you quite well. I am glad to meet you again. You find my niece much changed, I dare say?”
“Not in the least, Lady Baldock,” said Phineas, seizing the proffered hand of the dowager. In that hour of conversation, which they had had together, Lady Chiltern had said not a word to Phineas of her aunt, and now he felt himself to be almost discomposed by the meeting. “Is your daughter here, Lady Baldock?”
Lady Baldock shook her head solemnly and sadly. “Do not speak of her, Mr. Finn. It is too sad! We never mention her name now.” Phineas looked as sad as he knew how to look, but he said nothing. The lamentation of the mother did not seem to imply that the daughter was dead; and, from his remembrance of Augusta Boreham, he would have thought her to be the last woman in the world to run away with the coachman. At the moment there did not seem to be any other sufficient cause for so melancholy a wagging of that venerable head. He had been told to say nothing, and he could ask no questions; but Lady Baldock did not choose that he should be left to imagine things more terrible than the truth. “She is lost to us forever, Mr. Finn.”
“How very sad.”
“Sad, indeed! We don’t know how she took it.”
“Took what, Lady Baldock?”
“I am sure it was nothing that she ever saw at home. If there is a thing I’m true to, it is the Protestant Established Church of England. Some nasty, low, lying, wheedling priest got hold of her, and now she’s a nun, and calls herself—Sister Veronica John!” Lady Baldock threw great strength and unction into her description of the priest; but as soon as she had told her story a sudden thought struck her. “Oh, laws! I quite forgot. I beg your pardon, Mr. Finn; but you’re one of them!”
“Not a nun, Lady Baldock.” At that moment the door was opened, and Lord Chiltern came in, to the great relief of his wife’s aunt.
III
Gerard Maule
“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Phineas that night after Lady Baldock was gone to bed. The two men had taken off their dress coats, and had put on smoking caps—Lord Chiltern, indeed, having clothed himself in a wonderful Chinese dressing-gown, and they were sitting round the fire in the smoking-room; but though they were thus employed and thus dressed the two younger ladies were still with them.
“How could I tell you everything in two minutes?” said Lady Chiltern.
“I’d have given a guinea to have heard her,” said Lord Chiltern, getting up and rubbing his hands as he walked about the room. “Can’t you fancy all that she’d say, and then her horror when she’d remember that Phineas was a Papist himself?”
“But what made Miss Boreham turn nun?”
“I fancy she found the penances lighter than they were at home,” said the lord. “They couldn’t well be heavier.”
“Dear old aunt!”
“Does she never go to see Sister Veronica?” asked Miss Palliser.
“She has been once,” said Lady Chiltern.
“And fumigated herself first so as to escape infection,” said the husband. “You should hear Gerard Maule imitate her when she talks about the filthy priest.”
“And who is Gerard Maule?” Then Lady Chiltern looked at her friend, and Phineas was almost sure that Gerard Maule was the man who was dying for Adelaide Palliser.
“He’s a great ally of mine,” said Lady Chiltern.
“He’s a young fellow who thinks he can ride to hounds,” said Lord Chiltern, “and who very often does succeed in riding over them.”
“That’s not fair, Lord Chiltern,” said Miss Palliser.
“Just my idea of it,” replied the Master. “I don’t think it’s at all fair. Because a man has plenty of horses, and nothing else to do, and rides twelve stone, and doesn’t care how he’s sworn at, he’s always to be over the scent, and spoil everyone’s sport. I don’t call it at all fair.”
“He’s a very nice fellow, and a great friend of Oswald’s. He is to be here tomorrow, and you’ll like him very much. Won’t he, Adelaide?”
“I don’t know Mr. Finn’s tastes quite so well as you do, Violet. But Mr. Maule is so harmless that no one can dislike him very much.”
“As for being harmless, I’m not so sure,” said Lady Chiltern. After that they all went to bed.
Phineas remained at Harrington Hall till the ninth, on which day he went to London so that he might be at Tankerville on the tenth. He rode Lord Chiltern’s horses, and took an interest in the hounds, and nursed the baby. “Now tell me what you think of Gerard Maule,” Lady Chiltern asked him, the day before he started.
“I presume that he is the young man that is dying for Miss Palliser.”
“You may answer my question, Mr. Finn, without making any such suggestion.”
“Not discreetly. Of course if he is to be made happy, I am bound at the present moment to say all good things of him. At such a crisis it would be wicked to tinge Miss Palliser’s hopes with any hue less warm than rose colour.”
“Do you suppose that I tell everything that is said to me?”
“Not at all; but opinions do ooze out. I take him to be a good sort of a fellow; but why doesn’t he talk a
