“He hasn’t told you? But of course he wouldn’t. How could he? But, Alice, how did he look? Did you observe anything about him? Was he pleased?”
“I did observe something, and I think he was pleased. But what is it? He called me Alice. And seemed to be quite unlike himself. But what is it? He told me that I was to come to you instantly.”
“Oh, Alice, can’t you guess?” Then suddenly Alice did guess the secret, and whispered her guess into Lady Glencora’s ear. “I suppose it is so,” said Lady Glencora. “I know what they’ll do. They’ll kill me by fussing over me. If I could go about my work like a washerwoman, I should be all right.”
“I am so happy,” she said, some two or three hours afterwards. “I won’t deny that I am very happy. It seemed as though I were destined to bring nothing but misery to everybody, and I used to wish myself dead so often. I shan’t wish myself dead now.”
“We shall all have to go home, I suppose?” said Alice.
“He says so;—but he seems to think that I oughtn’t to travel above a mile and a half a day. When I talked of going down the Rhine in one of the steamers, I thought he would have gone into a fit. When I asked him why, he gave me such a look. I know he’ll make a goose of himself;—and he’ll make geese of us, too; which is worse.”
On that afternoon, as they were walking together, Mr. Palliser told the important secret to his new friend, Mr. Grey. He could not deny himself the pleasure of talking about this great event. “It is a matter, you see, of such immense importance to me,” Mr. Palliser said.
“Indeed, it is,” said Grey. “Every man feels that when a child is about to be born to him.” But this did not at all satisfy Mr. Palliser.
“Yes,” said he. “That’s of course. It is an important thing to everybody;—very important, no doubt. But, when a man—. You see, Grey, I don’t think a man is a bit better because he is rich, or because he has a title; nor do I think he is likely to be in any degree the happier. I am quite sure that he has no right to be in the slightest degree proud of that which he has had no hand in doing for himself.”
“Men usually are very proud of such advantages,” said Grey.
“I don’t think that I am; I don’t, indeed. I am proud of some things. Whenever I can manage to carry a point in the House, I feel very proud of it. I don’t think I ever knocked under to anyone, and I am proud of that.” Perhaps, Mr. Palliser was thinking of a certain time when his uncle the Duke had threatened him, and he had not given way to the Duke’s threats. “But I don’t think I’m proud because chance has made me my uncle’s heir.”
“Not in the least, I should say.”
“But I do feel that a son to me is of more importance than it is to most men. A strong anxiety on the subject, is, I think, more excusable in me than it might be in another. I don’t know whether I quite make myself understood?”
“Oh, yes! When there’s a dukedom and heaven knows how many thousands a year to be disposed of, the question of their future ownership does become important.”
“This property is so much more interesting to one, if one feels that all one does to it is done for one’s own son.”
“And yet,” said Grey, “of all the great plunderers of property throughout Europe, the Popes have been the most greedy.”
“Perhaps it’s different, when a man can’t have a wife,” said Mr. Palliser.
From all this it may be seen that Mr. Palliser and Mr. Grey had become very intimate. Had chance brought them together in London they might have met a score of times before Mr. Palliser would have thought of doing more than bowing to such an acquaintance. Mr. Grey might have spent weeks at Matching, without having achieved anything like intimacy with its noble owner. But things of that kind progress more quickly abroad than they do at home. The deck of an ocean steamer is perhaps the most prolific hotbed of the growth of sudden friendships; but an hotel by the side of a Swiss lake does almost as well.
For some time after this Lady Glencora’s conduct was frequently so indiscreet as to drive her husband almost to frenzy. On the very day after the news had been communicated to him, she proposed a picnic, and made the proposition not only in the presence of Alice, but in that of Mr. Grey also! Mr. Palliser, on such an occasion, could not express all that he thought; but he looked it.
“What is the matter, now, Plantagenet?” said his wife.
“Nothing,” said he;—“nothing. Never mind.”
“And shall we make this party up to the chapel?”
The chapel in question was Tell’s chapel—ever so far up the lake. A journey in a steamboat would have been necessary.
“No!” said he, shouting out his refusal at her. “We will not.”
“You needn’t be angry about it,” said she;—as though he could have failed to be stirred by such a proposition at such a time. On another occasion she returned from an evening walk, showing on her face some sign of the exercise she had taken.
“Good G⸺! Glencora,” said he, “do you mean to kill yourself?”
He wanted her to eat six or seven times a day; and always told her that she was eating too much, remembering some ancient proverb about little and often. He watched her now as closely as Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott had watched her before; and she always knew that he was doing so. She made the matter worse by continually proposing to
