THE COMPLETE PALLISER NOVELS (All 6 Novels in One Edition). Anthony Trollope

should be in the vicinity. She could not analyse her own wishes. She often told herself, as she had told Alice, that it would be better for them all that she should go away; that in throwing herself even to the dogs, if such must be the result, she would do more of good than of harm. She declared to herself, in the most passionate words she could use, that she loved this man with all her heart. She protested that the fault would not be hers, but theirs, who had forced her to marry the man she did not love. She assured herself that her husband had no affection for her, and that their marriage was in every respect prejudicial to him. She recurred over and over again, in her thoughts, to her own childlessness, and to his extreme desire for an heir. “Though I do sacrifice myself,” she would say, “I shall do more of good than harm, and I cannot be more wretched than I am now.” But yet she fled to London because she feared to leave herself at Matching when Burgo Fitzgerald should be there. She sent no answer to his letter. She made no preparation for going with him. She longed to see Alice, to whom alone, since her marriage, had she ever spoken of her love, and intended to tell her the whole tale of that letter. She was as one who, in madness, was resolute to throw herself from a precipice, but to whom some remnant of sanity remained which forced her to seek those who would save her from herself.

      Mr Palliser had not seen her since her arrival in London, and, of course, he took her by the hand and kissed her. But it was the embrace of a brother rather than of a lover or a husband. Lady Glencora, with her full woman’s nature, understood this thoroughly, and appreciated by instinct the true bearing of every touch from his hand. “I hope you are well?” she said.

      “Oh, yes; quite well. And you? A little fatigued with your journey, I suppose?”

      “No; not much.”

      “Well, we have had a debate on the Address. Don’t you want to know how it has gone?”

      “If it has concerned you particularly, I do, of course.”

      “Concerned me! It has concerned me certainly.”

      “They haven’t appointed you yet; have they?”

      “No; they don’t appoint people during debates, in the House of Commons. But I fear I shall never make you a politician.”

      “I’m almost afraid you never will. But I’m not the less anxious for your success, since you wish it yourself. I don’t understand why you should work so very hard; but, as you like it, I’m as anxious as anybody can be that you should triumph.”

      “Yes; I do like it,” he said. “A man must like something, and I don’t know what there is to like better. Some people can eat and drink all day; and some people can care about a horse. I can do neither.”

      And there were others, Lady Glencora thought, who could love to lie in the sun, and could look up into the eyes of women, and seek their happiness there. She was sure, at any rate, that she knew one such. But she said nothing of this.

      “I spoke for a moment to Lord Brock,” said Mr Palliser. Lord Brock was the name by which the present Jove of the Treasury was known among men.

      “And what did Lord Brock say?”

      “He didn’t say much, but he was very cordial.”

      “But I thought, Plantagenet, that he could appoint you if he pleased? Doesn’t he do it all?”

      “Well, in one sense, he does. But I don’t suppose I shall ever make you understand.” He endeavoured, however, to do so on the present occasion, and gave her a somewhat longer lecture on the working of the British Constitution, and the manner in which British politics evolved themselves, than would have been expected from most young husbands to their young wives under similar circumstances. Lady Glencora yawned, and strove lustily, but ineffectually, to hide her yawn in her handkerchief.

      “But I see you don’t care a bit about it,” said he, peevishly.

      “Don’t be angry, Plantagenet. Indeed I do care about it, but I am so ignorant that I can’t understand it all at once. I am rather tired, and I think I’ll go to bed now. Shall you be late?”

      “No, not very; that is, I shall be rather late. I’ve a lot of letters I want to write tonight, as I must be at work all tomorrow. By-the-by, Mr Bott is coming to dine here. There will be no one else.” The next day was a Wednesday, and the House would not sit in the evening.

      “Mr Bott!” said Lady Glencora, showing by her voice that she anticipated no pleasure from that gentleman’s company.

      “Yes, Mr Bott. Have you any objection?”

      “Oh, no. Would you like to dine alone with him?”

      “Why should I dine alone with him? Why shouldn’t you eat your dinner with us? I hope you are not going to become fastidious, and to turn up your nose at people. Mrs Marsham is in town, and I dare say she’ll come to you if you ask her.”

      But this was too much for Lady Glencora. She was disposed to be mild, but she could not endure to have her two duennas thus brought upon her together on the first day of her arrival in London. And Mrs Marsham would be worse than Mr Bott. Mr Bott would be engaged with Mr Palliser during the greater part of the evening. “I thought,” said she, “of asking my cousin, Alice Vavasor, to spend the evening with me.”

      “Miss Vavasor!” said the husband. “I must say that I thought Miss Vavasor—” He was going to make some allusion to that unfortunate hour spent among the ruins, but he stopped himself.

      “I hope you have nothing to say against my cousin?” said his wife. “She is my only near relative that I really care for;—the only woman, I mean.”

      “No; I don’t mean to say anything against her. She’s very well as a young lady, I dare say. I would sooner that you would ask Mrs Marsham tomorrow.”

      Lady Glencora was standing, waiting to go away to her own room, but it was absolutely necessary that this matter should be decided before she went. She felt that he was hard to her, and unreasonable, and that he was treating her like a child who should not be allowed her own way in anything. She had endeavoured to please him, and, having failed, was not now disposed to give way.

      “As there will be no other ladies here tomorrow evening, Plantagenet, and as I have not yet seen Alice since I have been in town, I wish you would let me have my way in this. Of course I cannot have very much to say to Mrs Marsham, who is an old woman.”

      “I especially want Mrs Marsham to be your friend,” said he.

      “Friendships will not come by ordering, Plantagenet,” said she.

      “Very well,” said he. “Of course, you will do as you please. I am sorry that you have refused the first favour I have asked you this year.” Then he left the room, and she went away to bed.

Chapter XLIII.

       Mrs Marsham

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      But Lady Glencora was not brought to repentance by her husband’s last words. It seemed to her to be so intolerably cruel, this demand of his, that she should be made to pass the whole of her first evening in town with an old woman for whom it was impossible that she should entertain the slightest regard, that she resolved upon rebellion. Had he positively ordered Mrs Marsham, she would have sent for that lady, and have contented herself with enduring her presence in disdainful silence; but Mr Palliser had not given any order. He had made a request, and a request, from its very nature, admits of no obedience. The compliance with a request must be voluntary, and she would not send for Mrs Marsham, except upon compulsion. Had not she also made a request to him, and had not he refused it? It was his prerogative, undoubtedly, to command; but in that matter of requests she had a right to expect that her voice should be as potent as his own. She wrote a line, therefore, to Alice before she went to bed, begging her cousin to come to her early on the following day, so that they might go out together,