“He could not enforce it.”
“He would attempt it. I will not go back until he consents to my living apart from him. And, to tell the truth, I am better here for awhile. They say that the sick animals always creep somewhere under cover. I am a sick animal, and now that I have crept here I will remain till I am stronger. How terribly anxious you must be about Tankerville!”
“I am anxious.”
“You will telegraph to me at once? You will be sure to do that?”
“Of course I will, the moment I know my fate.”
“And if it goes against you?”
“Ah—what then?”
“I shall at once write to Barrington Erle. I don’t suppose he would do much now for his poor cousin, but he can at any rate say what can be done. I should bid you come here—only that stupid people would say that you were my lover. I should not mind, only that he would hear it, and I am bound to save him from annoyance. Would you not go down to Oswald again?”
“With what object?”
“Because anything will be better than returning to Ireland. Why not go down and look after Saulsby? It would be a home, and you need not tie yourself to it. I will speak to Papa about that. But you will get the seat.”
“I think I shall,” said Phineas.
“Do;—pray do! If I could only get hold of that judge by the ears! Do you know what time it is? It is twelve, and your train starts at eight.” Then he arose to bid her adieu. “No,” she said; “I shall see you off.”
“Indeed you will not. It will be almost night when I leave this, and the frost is like iron.”
“Neither the night nor the frost will kill me. Do you think I will not give you your last breakfast? God bless you, dear.”
And on the following morning she did give him his breakfast by candlelight, and went down with him to the station. The morning was black, and the frost was, as he had said, as hard as iron, but she was thoroughly good-humoured, and apparently happy. “It has been so much to me to have you here, that I might tell you everything,” she said. “You will understand me now.”
“I understand, but I know not how to believe,” he said.
“You do believe. You would be worse than a Jew if you did not believe me. But you understand also. I want you to marry, and you must tell her all the truth. If I can I will love her almost as much as I do you. And if I live to see them, I will love your children as dearly as I do you. Your children shall be my children;—or at least one of them shall be mine. You will tell me when it is to be.”
“If I ever intend such a thing, I will tell you.”
“Now, goodbye. I shall stand back there till the train starts, but do not you notice me. God bless you, Phineas.” She held his hand tight within her own for some seconds, and looked into his face with an unutterable love. Then she drew down her veil, and went and stood apart till the train had left the platform.
“He has gone, Papa,” Lady Laura said, as she stood afterwards by her father’s bedside.
“Has he? Yes; I know he was to go, of course. I was very glad to see him, Laura.”
“So was I, Papa;—very glad indeed. Whatever happens to him, we must never lose sight of him again.”
“We shall hear of him, of course, if he is in the House.”
“Whether he is in the House or out of it we must hear of him. While we have aught he must never want.” The Earl stared at his daughter. The Earl was a man of large possessions, and did not as yet understand that he was to be called upon to share them with Phineas Finn. “I know, Papa, you will never think ill of me.”
“Never, my dear.”
“I have sworn that I will be a sister to that man, and I will keep my oath.”
“I know you are a very good sister to Chiltern,” said the Earl. Lady Laura had at one time appropriated her whole fortune, which had been large, to the payment of her brother’s debts. The money had been returned, and had gone to her husband. Lord Brentford now supposed that she intended at some future time to pay the debts of Phineas Finn.
XIII
“I Have Got the Seat”
When Phineas returned to London, the autumn Session, though it had been carried on so near to Christmas as to make many members very unhappy, had already been over for a fortnight. Mr. Daubeny had played his game with consummate skill to the last. He had brought in no bill, but had stated his intention of doing so early in the following Session. He had, he said, of course been aware from the first that it would have been quite impossible to carry such a measure as that proposed during the few weeks in which it had been possible for them to sit between the convening of Parliament and the Christmas holidays; but he thought that it was expedient that the proposition should be named to the House and ventilated as it had been, so that members on both sides might be induced to give their most studious attention to the subject before a measure, which must be so momentous, should be proposed to them. As had happened, the unforeseen division to which the House had been pressed on the Address had proved that the majority of the House was in favour of the great reform which it was the object of his ambition to complete. They were aware that they had been assembled at a somewhat unusual and inconvenient period of the year, because the service of the country had demanded
