CHAPTER L.
How Lady Glencora Came Back from Lady Monk's Party.
Burgo Fitzgerald remained for a minute or two leaning where welast saw him,--against the dining-room wall at the bottom of thestaircase; and as he did so some thoughts that were almost solemnpassed across his mind, This thing that he was about to do, or toattempt,--was it in itself a good thing, and would it be good for herwhom he pretended to love? What would be her future if she consentednow to go with him, and to divide herself from her husband? Of hisown future he thought not at all. He had never done so. Even when hehad first found himself attracted by the reputation of her wealth, hecannot be said to have looked forward in any prudential way to comingyears. His desire to put himself in possession of so magnificenta fortune had simply prompted him, as he might have been promptedto play for a high stake at a gaming-table. But now, during thesemoments, he did think a little of her. Would she be happy, simplybecause he loved her, when all women should cease to acknowledgeher; when men would regard her as one degraded and dishonoured; whensociety should be closed against her; when she would be driven tolive loudly because the softness and graces of quiet life would bedenied to her? Burgo knew well what must be the nature of such awoman's life in such circumstances. Would Glencora be happy with himwhile living such a life simply because he loved her? And, under suchcircumstances, was it likely that he would continue to love her? Didhe not know himself to be the most inconstant of men, and the leasttrustworthy? Leaning thus against the wall at the bottom of thestairs he did ask himself all these questions with something of truefeeling about his heart, and almost persuaded himself that he hadbetter take his hat and wander forth anywhere into the streets. Itmattered little what might become of himself. If he could drinkhimself out of the world, it might be an end of things that would benot altogether undesirable.
But then the remembrance of his aunt's two hundred pounds came uponhim, which money he even now had about him on his person, and acertain idea of honour told him that he was bound to do that forwhich the money had been given to him. As to telling his aunt that hehad changed his mind, and, therefore, refunding the money--no suchthought as that was possible to him! To give back two hundred poundsentire,--two hundred pounds which were already within his clutches,was not within the compass of Burgo's generosity. Remembering thecash, he told himself that hesitation was no longer possible tohim. So he gathered himself up, stretched his hands over his head,uttered a sigh that was audible to all around him, and took himselfup-stairs.
He looked in at his aunt's room, and then he saw her and was seen byher. "Well, Burgo," she said, with her sweetest smile, "have you beendancing?" He turned away from her without answering her, mutteringsomething between his teeth about a cold-blooded Jezebel,--which, ifshe had heard it, would have made her think him the most ungratefulof men. But she did not hear him, and smiled still as he went away,saying something to Mrs. Conway Sparkes as to the great change for thebetter which had taken place in her nephew's conduct.
"There's no knowing who may not reform," said Mrs. Sparkes, with anemphasis which seemed to Lady Monk to be almost uncourteous.
Burgo made his way first into the front room and then into thelarger room where the dancing was in progress, and there he saw LadyGlencora standing up in a quadrille with the Marquis of Hartletop.Lord Hartletop was a man not much more given to conversation thanhis wife, and Lady Glencora seemed to go through her work with verylittle gratification either in the dancing or in the society of herpartner. She was simply standing up to dance, because, as she hadtold Mr. Palliser, ladies of her age generally do stand up on suchoccasions. Burgo watched her as she crossed and re-crossed the room,and at last she was aware of his presence. It made no change in her,except that she became even somewhat less animated than she had beenbefore. She would not seem to see him, nor would she allow herself tobe driven into a pretence of a conversation with her partner becausehe was there. "I will go up to her at once, and ask her to waltz,"Burgo said to himself, as soon as the last figure of the quadrillewas in action. "Why should I not ask her as well as any other woman?"Then the music ceased, and after a minute's interval Lord Hartletoptook away his partner on his arm into another room. Burgo, who hadbeen standing near the door, followed them at once. The crowd wasgreat, so that he could not get near them or even keep them in sight,but he was aware of the way in which they were going.
It was five minutes after this when he again saw her, and then shewas seated on a cane bench in the gallery, and an old woman wasstanding close to her, talking to her. It was Mrs. Marsham cautioningher against some petty imprudence, and Lady Glencora was telling thatlady that she needed no such advice, in words almost as curt as thoseI have used. Lord Hartletop had left her, feeling that, as far asthat was concerned, he had done his duty for the night. Burgo knewnothing of Mrs. Marsham,--had never seen her before, and was quiteunaware that she had any special connection with Mr. Palliser. It wasimpossible, he thought, to find Lady Glencora in a better positionfor his purpose, so he made his way up to her through the crowd, andmuttering some slight inaudible word, offered her his hand.
"That will do very well thank you, Mrs. Marsham," Lady Glencora saidat this moment. "Pray, do not trouble yourself," and then she gaveher hand to Fitzgerald. Mrs. Marsham, though unknown to him, knew withquite sufficient accuracy who he was, and all his history, as far asit concerned her friend's wife. She had learned the whole story ofthe loves of Burgo and Lady Glencora. Though Mr. Palliser had nevermentioned that man's name to her, she was well aware that her dutyas a duenna would make it expedient that she should keep a doublywary eye upon him should he come near the sheepfold. And there he was,close to them, almost leaning over them, with the hand of his latelady love,--the hand of Mr. Palliser's wife,--within his own! How LadyGlencora might have carried herself at this moment had Mrs. Marshamnot been there, it is bootless now to surmise; but it may be wellunderstood that under Mrs. Marsham's immediate eye all her resolutionwould be in Burgo's favour. She looked at him softly and kindly, andthough she uttered no articulate word, her countenance seemed to showthat the meeting was not unpleasant to her.
"Will you waltz?" said Burgo,--asking it not at all as though it werea special favour,--asking it exactly as he might have done had theybeen in the habit of dancing with each other every other night forthe last three months.
"I don't think Lady Glencora will waltz to-night," said Mrs. Marsham,very stiffly. She certainly did not know her business as a duenna, orelse the enormity of Burgo's proposition had struck her so forciblyas to take away from her all her presence of mind. Otherwise, shemust have been aware that such an answer from her would surely driveher friend's wife into open hostility.
"And why not, Mrs. Marsham?" said Lady Glencora rising from her seat."Why shouldn't I waltz to-night? I rather think I shall, the moreespecially as Mr. Fitzgerald waltzes very well." Thereupon she put herhand upon Burgo's arm.
Mrs. Marsham made still a little effort,--a little effort that wasprobably involuntary. She put out her hand, and laid it on LadyGlencora's left shoulder, looking into her face as she did so withall the severity of caution of which she was mistress. Lady Glencorashook her duenna off angrily. Whether she would put her fate intothe hands of this man who was now touching her, or whether she wouldnot, she had not as yet decided; but of this she was very sure,that nothing said or done by Mrs. Marsham should have any effect inrestraining her.
What could Mrs. Marsham do? Mr. Palliser was gone. Some rumour ofthat proposed visit to Monkshade, and the way in which it had beenprevented, had reached her ear. Some whispers had come to her thatFitzgerald still dared to love, as married, the woman whom he hadloved before she was married. There was a rumour about that he stillhad some hope. Mrs. Marsham had never believed that Mr. Palliser'swife would really be false to her vows. It was not in fear of any suchcatastrophe as a positive elopement that she had taken upon herselfthe duty of duenna. Lady Glencora would, no doubt, require to bepressed down into that decent mould which it would beco
me the wifeof a Mr. Palliser to assume as her form; and this pressing down, andthis moulding, Mrs. Marsham thought that she could accomplish. It hadnot hitherto occurred to her that she might be required to guard Mr.Palliser from positive dishonour; but now--now she hardly knew whatto think about it. What should she do? To whom should she go? Andthen she saw Mr. Bott looming large before her on the top of thestaircase.
Mr. Bott on the watch.]
In the meantime Lady Glencora went off towards the dancers, leaningon Burgo's arm. "Who is that woman?" said Burgo. They were the firstwords he spoke to her, though since he had last seen her he hadwritten to her that letter which even now she carried about her. Hisvoice in her ears sounded as it used to sound when their intimacyhad been close, and questions such as that he had asked were commonbetween them. And her answer was of the same nature. "Oh, such anodious woman!" she said. "Her name is Mrs. Marsham; she is my betenoire." And then they were actually dancing, whirling round the roomtogether, before a word had been said of that which was Burgo'ssettled purpose, and which at some moments was her settled purposealso.
Burgo waltzed excellently, and in old days, before her marriage, LadyGlencora had been passionately fond of dancing. She seemed to giveherself up to it now as though the old days had come back to her.Lady Monk, creeping to the intermediate door between her den andthe dancing-room, looked in on them, and then crept back again. Mrs.Marsham and Mr. Bott standing together just inside the other door,near to the staircase, looked on also--in horror.
"He shouldn't have gone away and left her," said Mr. Bott, almosthoarsely.
"But who could have thought it?" said Mrs. Marsham. "I'm sure Ididn't."
"I suppose you'd better tell him?" said Mr. Bott.
"But I don't know where to find him," said Mrs. Marsham.
"I didn't mean now at once," said Mr. Bott;--and then he added, "Doyou think it is as bad as that?"
"I don't know what to think," said Mrs. Marsham.
The waltzers went on till they were stopped by want of breath. "Iam so much out of practice," said Lady Glencora; "I didn't think--Ishould have been able--to dance at all." Then she put up her face,and slightly opened her mouth, and stretched her nostrils,--as ladiesdo as well as horses when the running has been severe and they wantair.
"You'll take another turn," said he.
"Presently," said she, beginning to have some thought in her mindas to whether Mrs. Marsham was watching her. Then there was a littlepause, after which he spoke in an altered voice.
"Does it put you in mind of old days?" said he.
It was, of course, necessary for him that he should bring her to somethought of the truth. It was all very sweet, that dancing with her,as they used to dance, without any question as to the reason why itwas so; that sudden falling into the old habits, as though everythingbetween this night and the former nights had been a dream; but thiswould not further his views. The opportunity had come to him whichhe must use, if he intended ever to use such opportunity. There wasthe two hundred pounds in his pocket, which he did not intend to giveback. "Does it put you in mind of 'old days?'" he said.
The words roused her from her sleep at once, and dissipated herdream. The facts all rushed upon her in an instant; the letter in herpocket; the request which she had made to Alice, that Alice might beinduced to guard her from this danger; the words which her husbandhad spoken to her in the morning, and her anger against him in thathe had subjected her to the eyes of a Mrs. Marsham; her own unsettledmind--quite unsettled whether it would be best for her to go or tostay! It all came upon her now at the first word of tenderness whichBurgo spoke to her.
It has often been said of woman that she who doubts is lost,--sooften that they who say it now, say it simply because others havesaid it before them, never thinking whether or no there be any truthin the proverb. But they who have said so, thinking of their words asthey were uttered, have known but little of women. Women doubt everyday, who solve their doubts at last on the right side, driven todo so, some by fear, more by conscience, but most of them by thathalf-prudential, half-unconscious knowledge of what is fitting,useful, and best under the cirumstances, which rarely desertseither men or women till they have brought themselves to the BurgoFitzgerald state of recklessness. Men when they have fallen even tothat, will still keep up some outward show towards the world; butwomen in this condition defy the world, and declare themselves to bechildren of perdition. Lady Glencora was doubting sorely; but, thoughdoubting, she was not as yet lost.
"Does it put you in mind of old days?" said Burgo.
She was driven to answer, and she knew that much would be decided bythe way in which she might now speak. "You must not talk of that,"she said, very softly.
"May I not?" And now his tongue was unloosed, so that he began tospeak quickly. "May I not? And why not? They were happy days,--sohappy! Were not you happy when you thought--? Ah, dear! I suppose itis best not even to think of them?"
"Much the best."
"Only it is impossible. I wish I knew the inside of your heart, Cora,so that I could see what it is that you really wish."
In the old days he had always called her Cora, and now the namecame from his lips upon her ears as a thing of custom, causing nosurprise. They were standing back, behind the circle, almost in acorner, and Burgo knew well how to speak at such moments so that hiswords should be audible to none but her whom he addressed.
"You should not have come to me at all," she said.
"And why not? Who has a better right to come to you? Who has everloved you as I have done? Cora, did you get my letter?"
"Come and dance," she said; "I see a pair of eyes looking at us."The pair of eyes which Lady Glencora saw were in the possession ofMr. Bott, who was standing alone, leaning against the side of thedoorway, every now and then raising his heels from the ground, sothat he might look down upon the sinners as from a vantage ground.He was quite alone. Mrs. Marsham had left him, and had gotten herselfaway in Lady Glencora's own carriage to Park Lane, in order that shemight find Mr. Palliser there, if by chance he should be at home.
"Won't it be making mischief?" Mrs. Marsham had said when Mr. Bott hadsuggested this line of conduct.
"There'll be worse mischief if you don't," Mr. Bott had answered. "Hecan come back, and then he can do as he likes. I'll keep my eyes uponthem." And so he did keep his eyes upon them.
Again they went round the room,--or that small portion of the roomwhich the invading crowd had left to the dancers,--as though theywere enjoying themselves thoroughly, and in all innocence. But therewere others besides Mr. Bott who looked on and wondered. The Duchessof St. Bungay saw it, and shook her head sorrowing,--for the Duchesswas good at heart. Mrs. Conway Sparkes saw it, and drank it down withkeen appetite,--as a thirsty man with a longing for wine will drinkchampagne,--for Mrs. Conway Sparkes was not good at heart. LadyHartletop saw it, and just raised her eyebrows. It was nothing toher. She liked to know what was going on, as such knowledge wassometimes useful; but, as for heart,--what she had was, in such amatter, neither good nor bad. Her blood circulated with its ordinaryprecision, and, in that respect, no woman ever had a better heart.Lady Monk saw it, and a frown gathered on her brow. "The fool!" shesaid to herself. She knew that Burgo would not help his success bydrawing down the eyes of all her guests upon his attempt. In themeantime Mr. Bott stood there, mounting still higher on his toes,straightening his back against the wall.
"Did you get my letter?" Burgo said again, as soon as a moment'spause gave him breath to speak. She did not answer him. Perhaps herbreath did not return to her as rapidly as his. But, of course, heknew that she had received it. She would have quickly signified tohim that no letter from him had come to her hands had it not reachedher. "Let us go out upon the stairs," he said, "for I must speak toyou. Oh, if you could know what I suffered when you did not come toMonkshade! Why did you not come?"
"I wish I had not come here," she said.
"Because you have seen me? That, at any rate, is not kind of you."
>
They were now making their way slowly down the stairs, in the crowd,towards the supper-room. All the world was now intent on food anddrink, and they were only doing as others did. Lady Glencora was notthinking where she went, but, glancing upwards, as she stood for amoment wedged upon the stairs, her eyes met those of Mr. Bott. "A manthat can treat me like that deserves that I should leave him." Thatwas the thought that crossed her mind at the moment.
"I'll get you some champagne with water in it," said Burgo. "I knowthat is what you like."
"Do not get me anything," she said. They had now got into theroom, and had therefore escaped Mr. Bott's eyes for the moment. "Mr.Fitzgerald,"--and now her words had become a whisper in his ear,--"dowhat I ask you. For the sake of the old days of which you spoke, thedear old days which can never come again--"
"By G----! they can," said he. "They can come back, and they shall."
"Never. But you can still do me a kindness. Go away, and leave me.Go to the sideboard, and then do not come back. You are doing me aninjury while you remain with me."
"Cora," he said,
But she had now recovered her presence of mind, and understood whatwas going on. She was no longer in a dream, but words and thingsbore to her again their proper meaning. "I will not have it, Mr.Fitzgerald," she answered, speaking almost passionately. "I will nothave it. Do as I bid you. Go and leave me, and do not return. I tellyou that we are watched." This was still true, for Mr. Bott had nowagain got his eyes on them, round the supper-room door. Whatever wasthe reward for which he was working, private secretaryship or whatelse, it must be owned that he worked hard for it. But there arelabours which are labours of love.
"Who is watching us?" said Burgo; "and what does it matter? If youare minded to do as I have asked you--"
"But I am not so minded. Do you not know that you insult me byproposing it?"
"Yes;--it is an insult, Cora,--unless such an offer be a joy to you.If you wish to be my wife instead of his, it is no insult."
"How can I be that?" Her face was not turned to him, and her wordswere half-pronounced, and in the lowest whisper, but, nevertheless,he heard them.
"Come with me,--abroad, and you shall yet be my wife. You got myletter? Do what I asked you, then. Come with me--to-night."
The pressing instance of the suggestion, the fixing of a presenthour, startled her back to her propriety. "Mr. Fitzgerald," she said,"I asked you to go and leave me. If you do not do so, I must get upand leave you. It will be much more difficult."
"And is that to be all?"
"All;--at any rate, now." Oh, Glencora! how could you be so weak? Whydid you add that word, "now"? In truth, she added it then, at thatmoment, simply feeling that she could thus best secure an immediatecompliance with her request.
"I will not go," he said, looking at her sternly, and leaning beforeher, with earnest face, with utter indifference as to the eyes of anythat might see them. "I will not go till you tell me that you willsee me again."
"I will," she said in that low, all-but-unuttered whisper.
"When,--when,--when?" he asked.
Looking up again towards the doorway, in fear of Mr. Bott's eyes, shesaw the face of Mr. Palliser as he entered the room. Mr. Bott had alsoseen him, and had tried to clutch him by the arm; but Mr. Palliserhad shaken him off, apparently with indifference,--had got rid ofhim, as it were, without noticing him. Lady Glencora, when she sawher husband, immediately recovered her courage. She would not cowerbefore him, or show herself ashamed of what she had done. For thematter of that, if he pressed her on the subject, she could bringherself to tell him that she loved Burgo Fitzgerald much more easilythan she could whisper such a word to Burgo himself. Mr. Bott's eyeswere odious to her as they watched her; but her husband's glanceshe could meet without quailing before it. "Here is Mr. Palliser,"said she, speaking again in her ordinary clear-toned voice. Burgoimmediately rose from his seat with a start, and turned quicklytowards the door; but Lady Glencora kept her chair.
Mr. Palliser made his way as best he could through the crowd up tohis wife. He, too, kept his countenance without betraying his secret.There was neither anger nor dismay in his face, nor was there anyuntoward hurry in his movement. Burgo stood aside as he came up, andLady Glencora was the first to speak. "I thought you were gone homehours ago," she said.
"I did go home," he answered, "but I thought I might as well comeback for you."
"What a model of a husband! Well; I am ready. Only, what shall we doabout Jane? Mr. Fitzgerald, I left a scarf in your aunt's room,--alittle black and yellow scarf,--would you mind getting it for me?"
"I will fetch it," said Mr. Palliser; "and I will tell your cousinthat the carriage shall come back for her."
"If you will allow me--" said Burgo.
"I will do it," said Mr. Palliser; and away he went, making his slowprogress up through the crowd, ordering his carriage as he passedthrough the hall, and leaving Mr. Bott still watching at the door.
Lady Glencora resolved that she would say nothing to Burgo while herhusband was gone. There was a touch of chivalry in his leaving themagain together, which so far conquered her. He might have bade herleave the scarf, and come at once. She had seen, moreover, that hehad not spoken to Mr. Bott, and was thankful to him also for that.Burgo also seemed to have become aware that his chance for thattime was over. "I will say good-night," he said. "Good-night, Mr.Fitzgerald," she answered, giving him her hand. He pressed it for amoment, and then turned and went. When Mr. Palliser came back he wasno more to be seen.
Lady Glencora was at the dining-room door when her husband returned,standing close to Mr. Bott. Mr. Bott had spoken to her, but she madeno reply. He spoke again, but her face remained as immovable as thoughshe had been deaf. "And what shall we do about Mrs. Marsham?" shesaid, quite out loud, as soon as she put her hand on her husband'sarm. "I had forgotten her."
"Mrs. Marsham has gone home," he replied.
"Have you seen her?"
"Yes."
"When did you see her?"
"She came to Park Lane."
"What made her do that?"
These questions were asked and answered as he was putting her intothe carriage. She got in just as she asked the last, and he, as hetook his seat, did not find it necessary to answer it. But that wouldnot serve her turn. "What made Mrs. Marsham go to you at Park Laneafter she left Lady Monk's?" she asked again. Mr. Palliser sat silent,not having made up his mind what he would say on the subject. "Isuppose she went," continued Lady Glencora, "to tell you that I wasdancing with Mr. Fitzgerald. Was that it?"
"I think, Glencora, we had better not discuss it now."
"I don't mean to discuss it now, or ever. If you did not wish meto see Mr. Fitzgerald you should not have sent me to Lady Monk's.But, Plantagenet, I hope you will forgive me if I say that noconsideration shall induce me to receive again as a guest, in my ownhouse, either Mrs. Marsham or Mr. Bott."
Mr. Palliser absolutely declined to say anything on the subject onthat occasion, and the evening of Lady Monk's party in this way cameto an end.