CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ONCE AGAIN IN PORTMAN SQUARE.
On the Wednesday in Easter week Lord Brentford and Lady Laura Kennedyreached Portman Square from Dresden, and Phineas, who had remained intown, was summoned thither by a note written at Dover. "We arrivedhere to-day, and shall be in town to-morrow afternoon, between fourand five. Papa wants to see you especially. Can you manage to be withus in the Square at about eight? I know it will be inconvenient, butyou will put up with inconvenience. I don't like to keep Papa uplate; and if he is tired he won't speak to you as he would if youcame early.--L. K." Phineas was engaged to dine with Lord Cantrip;but he wrote to excuse himself,--telling the simple truth. He hadbeen asked to see Lord Brentford on business, and must obey thesummons.
He was shown into a sitting-room on the ground floor, which hehad always known as the Earl's own room, and there he found LordBrentford alone. The last time he had been there he had come toplead with the Earl on behalf of Lord Chiltern, and the Earl had thenbeen a stern self-willed man, vigorous from a sense of power, andvery able to maintain and to express his own feelings. Now he was abroken-down old man,--whose mind had been, as it were, unbooted andput into moral slippers for the remainder of its term of existenceupon earth. He half shuffled up out of his chair as Phineas cameup to him, and spoke as though every calamity in the world wereoppressing him. "Such a passage! Oh, very bad, indeed! I thought itwould have been the death of me. Laura thought it better to come on."The fact, however, had been that the Earl had so many objections tostaying at Calais, that his daughter had felt herself obliged toyield to him.
"You must be glad at any rate to have got home," said Phineas.
"Home! I don't know what you call home. I don't suppose I shall everfeel any place to be home again."
"You'll go to Saulsby;--will you not?"
"How can I tell? If Chiltern would have kept the house up, of courseI should have gone there. But he never would do anything like anybodyelse. Violet wants me to go to that place they've got there, but Ishan't do that."
"It's a comfortable house."
"I hate horses and dogs, and I won't go."
There was nothing more to be said on that point. "I hope Lady Laurais well."
"No, she's not. How should she be well? She's anything but well.She'll be in directly, but she thought I ought to see you first. Isuppose this wretched man is really mad."
"I am told so."
"He never was anything else since I knew him. What are we to do now?Forster says it won't look well to ask for a separation only becausehe's insane. He tried to shoot you?"
"And very nearly succeeded."
"Forster says that if we do anything, all that must come out."
"There need not be the slightest hesitation as far as I am concerned,Lord Brentford."
"You know he keeps all her money."
"At present I suppose he couldn't give it up."
"Why not? Why shouldn't he give it up? God bless my soul! Fortythousand pounds and all for nothing. When he married he declared thathe didn't care about it! Money was nothing to him! So she lent it toChiltern."
"I remember."
"But they hadn't been together a year before he asked for it. Nowthere it is;--and if she were to die to-morrow it would be lost tothe family. Something must be done, you know. I can't let her moneygo in that way."
"You'll do what Mr. Forster suggests, no doubt."
"But he won't suggest anything. They never do. He doesn't care whatbecomes of the money. It never ought to have been given up as itwas."
"It was settled, I suppose."
"Yes;--if there were children. And it will come back to her if hedies first. But mad people never do die. That's a well-known fact.They've nothing to trouble them, and they live for ever. It'll all goto some cousin of his that nobody ever saw."
"Not as long as Lady Laura lives."
"But she does not get a penny of the income;--not a penny. Therenever was anything so cruel. He has published all manner ofaccusations against her."
"Nobody believes a word of that, my lord."
"And then when she is dragged forward by the necessity of vindicatingher character, he goes mad and keeps all her money! There never wasanything so cruel since the world began."
This continued for half-an-hour, and then Lady Laura came in. Nothinghad come, or could have come, from the consultation with the Earl.Had it gone on for another hour, he would simply have continuedto grumble, and have persevered in insisting upon the hardshipshe endured. Lady Laura was in black, and looked sad, and old, andcareworn; but she did not seem to be ill. Phineas could not but thinkat the moment how entirely her youth had passed away from her. Shecame and sat close by him, and began at once to speak of the latedebate. "Of course they'll go out," she said.
"I presume they will."
"And our party will come in."
"Oh, yes;--Mr. Gresham, and the two dukes, and Lord Cantrip,--withLegge Wilson, Sir Harry Coldfoot, and the rest of them."
"And you?"
Phineas smiled, and tried to smile pleasantly, as he answered, "Idon't know that they'll put themselves out by doing very much forme."
"They'll do something."
"I fancy not. Indeed, Lady Laura, to tell the truth at once, I knowthat they don't mean to offer me anything."
"After making you give up your place in Ireland?"
"They didn't make me give it up. I should never dream of using suchan argument to any one. Of course I had to judge for myself. There isnothing to be said about it;--only it is so." As he told her this hestrove to look light-hearted, and so to speak that she should not seethe depth of his disappointment;--but he failed altogether. She knewhim too well not to read his whole heart in the matter.
"Who has said it?" she asked.
"Nobody says things of that kind, and yet one knows."
"And why is it?"
"How can I say? There are various reasons,--and, perhaps, very goodreasons. What I did before makes men think that they can't depend onme. At any rate it is so."
"Shall you not speak to Mr. Gresham?"
"Certainly not."
"What do you say, Papa?"
"How can I understand it, my dear? There used to be a kind of honourin these things, but that's all old-fashioned now. Ministers used tothink of their political friends; but in these days they only regardtheir political enemies. If you can make a Minister afraid of you,then it becomes worth his while to buy you up. Most of the youngmen rise now by making themselves thoroughly disagreeable. Abuse aMinister every night for half a session, and you may be sure to be inoffice the other half,--if you care about it."
"May I speak to Barrington Erle?" asked Lady Laura.
"I had rather you did not. Of course I must take it as it comes."
"But, my dear Mr. Finn, people do make efforts in such cases. I don'tdoubt but that at this moment there are a dozen men moving heaven andearth to secure something. No one has more friends than you have."
Had not her father been present he would have told her what hisfriends were doing for him, and how unhappy such interferences madehim; but he could not explain all this before the Earl. "I would somuch rather hear about yourself," he said, again smiling.
"There is but little to say about us. I suppose Papa has told you?"
But the Earl had told him nothing, and indeed, there was nothingto tell. The lawyer had advised that Mr. Kennedy's friends shouldbe informed that Lady Laura now intended to live in England, andthat they should be invited to make to her some statement as toMr. Kennedy's condition. If necessary he, on her behalf, wouldjustify her departure from her husband's roof by a reference to theoutrageous conduct of which Mr. Kennedy had since been guilty. Inregard to Lady Laura's fortune, Mr. Forster said that she could nodoubt apply for alimony, and that if the application were pressed atlaw she would probably obtain it;--but he could not recommend such astep at the present moment. As to the accusation which had been madeagainst her character, and which had become public throug
h the maliceof the editor of The People's Banner, Mr. Forster thought that thebest refutation would be found in her return to England. At anyrate he would advise no further step at the present moment. Shouldany further libel appear in the columns of the newspaper, then thequestion might be again considered. Mr. Forster had already been inPortman Square, and this had been the result of the conference.
"There is not much comfort in it all,--is there?" said Lady Laura.
"There is no comfort in anything," said the Earl.
When Phineas took his leave Lady Laura followed him out intothe hall, and they went together into the large, gloomydining-room,--gloomy and silent now, but which in former days hehad known to be brilliant with many lights, and cheerful with eagervoices. "I must have one word with you," she said, standing closeto him against the table, and putting her hand upon his arm. "Amidstall my sorrow, I have been so thankful that he did not--kill you."
"I must have one word with you."]
"I almost wish he had."
"Oh, Phineas!--how can you say words so wicked! Would you have hadhim a murderer?"
"A madman is responsible for nothing."
"Where should I have been? What should I have done? But of course youdo not mean it. You have everything in life before you. Say some wordto me more comfortable than that. You cannot think how I have lookedforward to meeting you again. It has robbed the last month of halfits sadness." He put his arm round her waist and pressed her to hisside, but he said nothing. "It was so good of you to go to him as youdid. How was he looking?"
"Twenty years older than when you saw him last."
"But how in health?"
"He was thin and haggard."
"Was he pale?"
"No; flushed and red. He had not shaved himself for days; nor, as Ibelieve, had he been out of his room since he came up to London. Ifancy that he will not live long."
"Poor fellow;--unhappy man! I was very wrong to marry him, Phineas."
"I have never said so;--nor, indeed, thought so."
"But I have thought so; and I say it also,--to you. I owe him anyreparation that I can make him; but I could not have lived with him.I had no idea, before, that the nature of two human beings could beso unlike. I so often remember what you told me of him,--here; inthis house, when I first brought you together. Alas, how sad it hasbeen!"
"Sad, indeed."
"But can this be true that you tell me of yourself?
"It is quite true. I could not say so before your father, but it isMr. Bonteen's doing. There is no remedy. I am sure of that. I am onlyafraid that people are interfering for me in a manner that will be asdisagreeable to me as it will be useless."
"What friends?" she asked.
He was still standing with his arm round her waist, and he did notlike to mention the name of Madame Goesler.
"The Duchess of Omnium,--whom you remember as Lady GlencoraPalliser."
"Is she a friend of yours?"
"No;--not particularly. But she is an indiscreet woman, and hatesBonteen, and has taken it into her stupid head to interest herself inmy concerns. It is no doing of mine, and yet I cannot help it."
"She will succeed."
"I don't want assistance from such a quarter; and I feel sure thatshe will not succeed."
"What will you do, Phineas?"
"What shall I do? Carry on the battle as long as I can withoutgetting into debt, and then--vanish."
"You vanished once before,--did you not,--with a wife?"
"And now I shall vanish alone. My poor little wife! It seems all likea dream. She was so good, so pure, so pretty, so loving!"
"Loving! A man's love is so easily transferred;--as easily as awoman's hand;--is it not, Phineas? Say the word, for it is what youare thinking."
"I was thinking of no such thing."
"You must think it--You need not be afraid to reproach me. I couldbear it from you. What could I not bear from you? Oh, Phineas;--if Ihad only known myself then, as I do now!"
"It is too late for regrets," he said. There was something in thewords which grated on her feelings, and induced her at length towithdraw herself from his arm. Too late for regrets! She had nevertold herself that it was not too late. She was the wife of anotherman, and therefore, surely it was too late. But still the word comingfrom his mouth was painful to her. It seemed to signify that for himat least the game was all over.
"Yes, indeed," she said,--"if our regrets and remorse were at our owndisposal! You might as well say that it is too late for unhappiness,too late for weariness, too late for all the misery that comes from alife's disappointment."
"I should have said that indulgence in regrets is vain."
"That is a scrap of philosophy which I have heard so often before!But we will not quarrel, will we, on the first day of my return?"
"I hope not."
"And I may speak to Barrington?"
"No; certainly not."
"But I shall. How can I help it? He will be here to-morrow, and willbe full of the coming changes. How should I not mention your name? Heknows--not all that has passed, but too much not to be aware of myanxiety. Of course your name will come up?"
"What I request,--what I demand is, that you ask no favour for me.Your father will miss you,--will he not? I had better go now."
"Good night, Phineas."
"Good night, dear friend."
"Dearest, dearest friend," she said. Then he left her, and withoutassistance, let himself out into the square. In her intercourse withhim there was a passion the expression of which caused him sorrow andalmost dismay. He did not say so even to himself, but he felt that atime might come in which she would resent the coldness of demeanourwhich it would be imperative upon him to adopt in his intercoursewith her. He knew how imprudent he had been to stand there with hisarm round her waist.