CHAPTER XXI.
Alice Is Taught to Grow Upwards, Towards the Light.
Before the day came on which Alice was to go to Matching Priory, shehad often regretted that she had been induced to make the promise,and yet she had as often resolved that there was no possible reasonwhy she should not go to Matching Priory. But she feared thiscommencement of a closer connection with her great relations. Shehad told herself so often that she was quite separated from them,that the slight accident of blood in no way tied her to them or themto her,--this lesson had been so thoroughly taught to her by theinjudicious attempts of Lady Macleod to teach an opposite lesson,that she did not like the idea of putting aside the effect of thatteaching. And perhaps she was a little afraid of the great folk whomshe might probably meet at her cousin's house. Lady Glencora herselfshe had liked,--and had loved too with that momentary love whichcertain circumstances of our life will sometimes produce, a lovewhich is strong while it lasts, but which can be laid down when theneed of it is passed. She had liked and loved Lady Glencora, and hadin no degree been afraid of her during those strange visitings inQueen Anne Street;--but she was by no means sure that she should likeLady Glencora in the midst of her grandeur and surrounded by the pompof her rank. She would have no other friend or acquaintance in thathouse, and feared that she might find herself desolate, cold, andwounded in her pride. She had been tricked into the visit, too, orrather had tricked herself into it. She had been sure that there hadbeen a joint scheme between her cousin and Lady Midlothian, and couldnot resist the temptation of repudiating it in her letter to LadyGlencora. But there had been no such scheme; she had wronged LadyGlencora, and had therefore been unable to resist her second request.But she felt unhappy, fearing that she would be out of her element,and more than once half made up her mind to excuse herself.
Her aunt had, from the first, thought well of her going, believingthat it might probably be the means of reconciling her to Mr. Grey.Moreover, it was a step altogether in the right direction. LadyGlencora would, if she lived, become a Duchess, and as she wasdecidedly Alice's cousin, of course Alice should go to her house wheninvited. It must be acknowledged that Lady Macleod was not selfishin her worship of rank. She had played out her game in life, andthere was no probability that she would live to be called cousin bya Duchess of Omnium. She bade Alice go to Matching Priory, simplybecause she loved her niece, and therefore wished her to live in thebest and most eligible way within her reach. "I think you owe it as aduty to your family to go," said Lady Macleod.
What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between LadyMacleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refusedall entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, andat last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urgedshe would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been veryimpertinent.
"I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said,piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further.Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." ThenAlice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that sheresented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that sheboth said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from peoplewhom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddleby their rank.
"And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in asoftly sad, apologetic voice.
Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road toMatching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down toMatching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her fatherundertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take heron the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing inhis letter about dining with her, but when he met her, mutteredsomething about an engagement, and taking her home graciouslypromised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning.
"I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in thecab together.
"Why, papa?"
"Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I'venever said much to you about these people. They're not connected withme, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what thename is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too."
"And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right.If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised,and of course I shouldn't go."
"You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, letanybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybodywant to get them?"
"But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory."
"You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobilityof England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run afterthem very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them.That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may besure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards.Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world,and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and apeer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-bakerhad something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call thattuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simplygrowing up, towards the light, as the trees do."
Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but shedid not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that hetook upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave hereven as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shallfind myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out ofthe cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab onwith him to his club.
On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear youare going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and asI shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you letme see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediatelythat she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted thenecessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham tothe North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which herpurposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How hadGeorge heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned theprecise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be sointent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As toseeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangementsfor her journey before nine, and then awaited him in thedrawing-room.
"I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first wordshe said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light,if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do justthen.
"How did you learn that I was going?" she said.
"I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, ifyou must know."
"From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "Howcould Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?"
"That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, Ishould say."
"That would be impossible."
"Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy withBurgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way."
"And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must haveknown all about it very accurately."
"No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; Iknow. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt,to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderablea person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She nevermentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew allabout your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why itshould be necessary to keep me so much in the dark."
Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Katebecause Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying littlewords about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kateto have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had beenimprudent.
"I cannot understand it," c
ontinued George, speaking without lookingat her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Doyou remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quiteestranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, undersome ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speakout, like a woman of spirit as you are."
"Nothing," said Alice.
"Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might notcongratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that hadyou resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you wouldhave permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss itwith you."
"I think not, George."
"I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me ofthis visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though shehas not confessed it."
Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this chargebrought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner wouldallow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not socomplaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have aright to ask it."
For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering.He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She lookedat him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and thebrightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he wasin earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also."I think that you have such a right," she said at last.
"Then let me exercise it."
"I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you areungenerous to exercise it."
"I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left inthis suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I canremove the offence by apology."
"You have done nothing to offend me."
"Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--whywe should be on a different footing to each other in London than wewere in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me.But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have aright to demand its solution."
"Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, asyou may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at himto see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes asbefore, and there was no mercy in his face.
"Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Greymight lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me.You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have beennecessary that I should require silence from her on that head. Youought now to understand it all."
"I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly thescar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of theold pleasantness in his eyes.
"I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found itnecessary to be on my guard."
"Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman,Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and,now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his handto her across the table.
"Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly,with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the momentthat he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much,"said he; and then she gave him her hand.
"And I may now talk about your new freedom?"
"No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what Ihave done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think ofit daily; but do not make me speak of it."
"But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speakof that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that shefelt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't seewhat you can have to say about it."
"But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cementa close intimacy with Mr. Palliser."
"With Mr. Palliser?"
"Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books aboutfinance. I'll send them to you if you like it."
"Oh, George!"
"I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books,as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the newChancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt."
"Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of theChancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money."
"But I do, my girl. Don't you see?"
"No; I don't."
"I think I shall get returned at this next election."
"I'm sure I hope you will."
"And if I do, of course it will be my game to support theministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will bechanges."
"I hope they will be on the right side."
"Not a doubt of that, Alice."
"I wish they might be changed altogether."
"Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are nosuch men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strongenough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses becausehe's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirousthat the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can'tgovern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men shouldbe well governed."
"And will there never be any such men?"
"I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is myambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before hecan walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, mustspare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser shouldbecome the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dearfriend bearing the same name."
"I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any suchfriendship."
"They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is veryclever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall haveall your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and allyour assistance also."
"My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, wouldbe worthless."
"By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place inthe world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadayshave no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as menhave." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless,she felt in some way pleased and flattered.
George left her without saying a word more about her marriageprospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad thatthis explanation between them had been made.