The affair had been so long that Gerard had almost forgotten his grievance. But now as they got out together upon the park, he remembered the tone of Adelaide’s voice as she left him, and remembered also that, as matters stood at present, it was essentially necessary that something should be said. “I suppose I shall have to go and see that woman,” said Lord Chiltern.
“Do you mean Adelaide?” asked Maule, in a tone of infinite surprise.
“I mean this new Duchess, who I’m told is to manage everything herself. That man Fothergill is going on with just the old game at Trumpeton.”
“Is he, indeed? I was thinking of something else just at that moment. You remember what you were saying about Miss Palliser last night.”
“Yes.”
“Well;—I don’t think, you know, you had a right to speak as you did.”
Lord Chiltern almost flew at his companion, as he replied, “I said nothing. I do say that when a man becomes engaged to a girl, he should let her hear from him, so that they may know what each other is about.”
“You hinted something about being her brother.”
“Of course I did. If you mean well by her, as I hope you do, it can’t fret you to think that she has got somebody to look after her till you come in and take possession. It is the commonest thing in the world when a girl is left all alone as she is.”
“You seemed to make out that I wasn’t treating her well.”
“I said nothing of the kind, Maule; but if you ask me—”
“I don’t ask you anything.”
“Yes, you do. You come and find fault with me for speaking last night in the most good-natured way in the world. And, therefore, I tell you now that you will be behaving very badly indeed, unless you make some arrangement at once as to what you mean to do.”
“That’s your opinion,” said Gerard Maule.
“Yes, it is; and you’ll find it to be the opinion of any man or woman that you may ask who knows anything about such things. And I’ll tell you what, Master Maule, if you think you’re going to face me down you’ll find yourself mistaken. Stop a moment, and just listen to me. You haven’t a much better friend than I am, and I’m sure she hasn’t a better friend than my wife. All this has taken place under our roof, and I mean to speak my mind plainly. What do you propose to do about your marriage?”
“I don’t propose to tell you what I mean to do.”
“Will you tell Miss Palliser—or my wife?”
“That is just as I may think fit.”
“Then I must tell you that you cannot meet her at my house.”
“I’ll leave it today.”
“You needn’t do that either. You sleep on it, and then make up your mind. You can’t suppose that I have any curiosity about it. The girl is fond of you, and I suppose that you are fond of her. Don’t quarrel for nothing. If I have offended you, speak to Lady Chiltern about it.”
“Very well;—I will speak to Lady Chiltern.”
When they reached the house it was clear that something was wrong. Miss Palliser was not seen again before dinner, and Lady Chiltern was grave and very cold in her manner to Gerard Maule. He was left alone all the afternoon, which he passed with his horses and groom, smoking more cigars—but thinking all the time of Adelaide Palliser’s last words, of Lord Chiltern’s frown, and of Lady Chiltern’s manner to him. When he came into the drawing-room before dinner, Lady Chiltern and Adelaide were both there, and Adelaide immediately began to ask questions about the kennel and the huntsmen. But she studiously kept at a distance from him, and he himself felt that it would be impossible to resume at present the footing on which he stood with them both on the previous evening. Presently Lord Chiltern came in, and another man and his wife who had come to stay at Harrington. Nothing could be more dull than the whole evening. At least so Gerard found it. He did take Adelaide in to dinner, but he did not sit next to her at table, for which, however, there was an excuse, as, had he done so, the newcomer must have been placed by his wife. He was cross, and would not make an attempt to speak to his neighbour, and, though he tried once or twice to talk to Lady Chiltern—than whom, as a rule, no woman was ever more easy in conversation—he failed altogether. Now and again he strove to catch Adelaide’s eye, but even in that he could not succeed. When the ladies left the room Chiltern and the newcomer—who was not a sporting man, and therefore did not understand the question—became lost in the mazes of Trumpeton Wood. But Gerard Maule did not put in a word; nor was a word addressed to him by Lord Chiltern. As he sat there sipping his wine, he made up his mind that he
