own prospects, till she got into a way of telling her cousin freely all that she felt. On such occasions Lady Glencora would always tell her that she had been right,—if she did not love the man. “Though your finger were put out for the ring,” said Lady Glencora on one such occasion, “you should go back, if you did not love him.”
“But I did love him,” said Alice.
“Then I don’t understand it,” said Lady Glencora; and, in truth, close as was their intimacy, they did not perfectly understand each other.
But on this occasion they were speaking of Jeffrey Palliser. “I declare I don’t think he could do any better,” said Lady Glencora.
“If you talk such nonsense, I will not stay,” said Alice.
“But why should it be nonsense? You would be very comfortable with your joint incomes. He is one of the best fellows in the world. It is clear that he likes you; and then we should be so near to each other. I am sure Mr Palliser would do something for him if he married,—and especially if I asked him.”
“I only know of two things against it.”
“And what are they?”
“That he would not take me for his wife, and that I would not take him for my husband.”
“Why not? What do you dislike in him?”
“I don’t dislike him at all. I like him very much indeed. But one can’t marry all the people one likes.”
“But what reason is there why you shouldn’t marry him?”
“This chiefly,” said Alice, after a pause; “that I have just separated myself from a man whom I certainly did love truly, and that I cannot transfer my affections quite so quickly as that.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew that they should not have been spoken. It was exactly what Glencora had done. She had loved a man and had separated herself from him and had married another all within a month or two. Lady Glencora first became red as fire over her whole face and shoulders, and Alice afterwards did the same as she looked up, as though searching in her cousin’s eyes for pardon.
“It is an unmaidenly thing to do, certainly,” said Lady Glencora very slowly, and in her lowest voice. “Nay, it is unwomanly; but one may be driven. One may be so driven that all gentleness of womanhood is driven out of one.”
“Oh, Glencora!”
“I did not propose that you should do it as a sudden thing.”
“Glencora!”
“I did do it suddenly. I know it. I did it like a beast that is driven as its owner chooses. I know it. I was a beast. Oh, Alice, if you know how I hate myself!”
“But I love you with all my heart,” said Alice. “Glencora, I have learned to love you so dearly!”
“Then you are the only being that does. He can’t love me. How is it possible? You,—and perhaps another.”
“There are many who love you. He loves you. Mr Palliser loves you.”
“It is impossible. I have never said a word to him that could make him love me. I have never done a thing for him that can make him love me. The mother of his child he might have loved, because of that. Why should he love me? We were told to marry each other and did it. When could he have learned to love me? But, Alice, he requires no loving, either to take it or to give it. I wish it were so with me.”
Alice said what she could to comfort her, but her words were but of little avail as regarded those marriage sorrows.
“Forgive you!” at last Glencora said. “What have I to forgive? You don’t suppose I do not know it all, and think of it all without the chance of some stray word like that! Forgive you! I am so grateful that you love me! Some one’s love I must have found,—or I could not have remained here.”
Chapter XXVI.
Lady Midlothian
A week or ten days after this, Alice, when she came down to the breakfast-parlour one morning, found herself alone with Mr Bott. It was the fashion at Matching Priory for people to assemble rather late in the day. The nominal hour for breakfast was ten, and none of the ladies of the party were ever seen before that. Some of the gentlemen would breakfast earlier, especially on hunting mornings; and on some occasions the ladies, when they came together, would find themselves altogether deserted by their husbands and brothers. On this day it was fated that Mr Bott alone should represent the sterner sex, and when Alice entered the room he was standing on the rug with his back to the fire, waiting till the appearance of some other guest should give him the sanction necessary for the commencement of his morning meal. Alice, when she saw him, would have retreated had it been possible, for she had learned to dislike him greatly, and was, indeed, almost afraid of him; but she could not do so without making her flight too conspicuous.
“Do you intend to prolong your stay here, Miss Vavasor?” said Mr Bott, taking advantage of the first moment at which she looked up from a letter which she was reading.
“For a few more days, I think,” said Alice.
“Ah—I’m glad of that. Mr Palliser has pressed me so much to remain till he goes to the Duke’s, that I cannot get away sooner. As I am an unmarried man myself, I can employ my time as well in one place as in another;—at this time of the year at least.”
“You must find that very convenient,” said Alice.
“Yes, it is convenient. You see in my position,—Parliamentary position, I mean,—I am obliged, as a public man, to act in concert with others. A public man can be of no service unless he is prepared to do that. We must give and take, you know, Miss Vavasor.”
As Miss Vavasor made no remark in answer to this, Mr Bott continued—”I always say to the men of my party,—of course I regard myself as belonging to the extreme Radicals.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Alice.
“Yes. I came into Parliament on that understanding; and I have never seen any occasion as yet to change any political opinion that I have expressed. But I always say to the gentlemen with whom I act, that nothing can be done if we don’t give and take. I don’t mind saying to you, Miss Vavasor, that I look upon our friend, Mr Palliser, as the most rising public man in the country. I do, indeed.”
“I am happy to hear you say so,” said his victim, who found herself driven to make some remark.
“And I, as an extreme Radical, do not think I can serve my party better than by keeping in the same boat with him, as long as it will hold the two. ‘He’ll make a Government hack of you,’ a friend of mine said to me the other day. ‘And I’ll make a Manchester school Prime Minister of him,’ I replied. I rather think I know what I’m about, Miss Vavasor.”
“No doubt,” said Alice.
“And so does he;—and so does he. Mr Palliser is not the man to be led by the nose by any one. But it’s a fair system of give and take. You can’t get on in politics without it. What a charming woman is your relative, Lady Glencowrer! I remember well what you said to me the other evening.”
“Do you?” said Alice.
“And I quite agree with you that confidential intercourse regarding dear friends should not be lightly made.”
“Certainly not,” said Alice.
“But there are occasions, Miss Vavasor; there are occasions when the ordinary laws by which we govern our social conduct must be made somewhat elastic.”
“I don’t think this one of them, Mr Bott.”
“Is