But at the same time the Duke was arranging his autumn movements, or at any rate those of his daughter. Lady Cantrip had told him that the desirable son-in-law had promised to go to Custins, and suggested that he and Mary should also be there. In his daughter's name he promised, but he would not bind himself. Would it not be better that he should be absent? Now that the doing of the thing was brought nearer to him so that he could see and feel its details, hew was disgusted by it. And yet it had answered so well with his wife!
'Is Lord Popplecourt intimate with her?' Lady Mabel asked her friend, Lord Silverbridge.
'I don't know. I am not.'
'Lady Cantrip seems to think a great deal about him.'
'I daresay. I don't.'
'Your father seems to like him.'
'That's possible too. They're going back to London together in the governor's carriage. My father will talk high politics all the way, and Popplecourt will agree with everything.'
'He isn't intended to--to--? You know what I mean.'
'I can't say that I do.'
'To cut out poor Frank.'
'It is quite possible.'
'Poor Frank!'
'You had a great deal better say poor Popplecourt!-or poor governor, or poor Lady Cantrip.'
'But a hundred countesses can't make your sister marry a man she doesn't like.'
'Just that. They don't go the right way about it.'
'What would you do?'
'Leave her alone. Let her find out gradually that what she wants can't be done.'
'And so linger on for years,' said Lady Mabel reproachfully.
'I say nothing about that. The man is my friend.'
'And you ought to be proud of him.'
'I never knew anybody yet who was proud of his friends. I like him well enough, but I can quite understand that the governor should object.'
'Yes, we all know that,' said she sadly.
'What would your father say if you wanted to marry someone who hadn't a shilling?'
'I should object myself,--without waiting for my father. But then,--neither have I a shilling. If I had money, do you think I wouldn't like to give it to the man I loved?'
'But this is a case of giving somebody else's money. They won't make her give it up by bringing such a young ass as that down here. If my father has persistency enough to let her cry her eyes out, he'll succeed.'
'And break her heart. Could you do that?'
'Certainly not. But then I'm soft. I can't refuse.'
'Can't you?'
'Not if the person who asks me is in my good books. You try me.'
'What shall I ask for?'
'Anything.'
'Give me the ring off your finger,' she said. He at once took it off his hand. 'Of course you know I am in joke. You don't imagine that I would take it from you.' He still held it towards her.
'Lord Silverbridge, I expect that with you I may say a foolish thing without being brought to sorrow by it. I know that that ring belonged to your great uncle,--and to fifty Pallisers before.'
'What would it matter?'
'And it would be wholly useless to me, as I would not wear it.'
'Of course it would be too big,' said he, replacing the ring on his own finger. 'But when I talk of anyone being in my good books, I don't mean a thing like that. Don't you know there is nobody on earth I--' there he paused and blushed, and she sat motionless, looking at him, expecting, with her colour too somewhat raised,--'whom I like so well as I do you?' It was a lame conclusion. She felt it to be lame. But as regarded him, the lameness of the moment had come from a timidity which forbade him to say the word 'love' even though he had meant to say it.
She recovered herself instantly. 'I do believe it,' she said. 'I do think that we are real friends.'
'Not that ring;--nor a ring at all after I had asked for it in joke. You understand it all. But to go back to what we were talking about,--if you can do anything for Frank, pray do. You know it will break his heart. A man of course bears it better, but he does not perhaps suffer the less. It is all his life to him. He can do nothing while this is going on. Are you not true enough to your friendship to exert yourself for him?' Silverbridge put his hand up and rubbed his head as though he were vexed. 'Your aid would turn everything in his favour.'
'You do not know my father.'
'Is he so inexorable?'
'It is not that, Mabel. But he is so unhappy. I cannot add to his unhappiness by taking part against him.'
In another part of the room Lady Cantrip was busy with Lord Popplecourt. She had talked about pheasants, and had talked about grouse, had talked about moving the address in the House of Lords in some coming session, and the great value of political alliances early in life, till the young Peer began to think that Lady Cantrip was the nicest of women. Then after a short pause she changed the subject. 'Don't you think Lady Mary very beautiful?'
'Uncommon,' said his lordship.
'And her manners so perfect. She has all her mother's ease without any of that--You know what I mean.'
'Quite so,' said his lordship.
'And then she has got so much in her.'
'Has she though?'
'I don't know of any girl her age so thoroughly well educated. The Duke seems to take to you.'
'Well yes;--the Duke is very kind.'
'Don't you think-?'
'Eh!'
'You have heard of her mother's fortune?'
'Tremendous!'
'She will have, I take it, quite a third of it. Whatever I say I'm sure you will take in confidence; but she is a dear girl; and I am anxious for her happiness almost as though she belonged to me.'
Lord Popplecourt went back into town in the Duke's carriage, but was unable to say a word about politics. His mind was altogether filled with the wonderful words that had been spoken to him. Could it be that Lady Mary had fallen violently in love with him? He would not at once give himself up to the pleasing idea, having so thoroughly grounded himself in the belief that female nets were to be avoided. But when he got home he did think favourably of it.
The daughter of a Duke,--and such a Duke! So lovely a girl, and with such gifts! And then a fortune which would make a material addition to his own large property!
