But it was the Duke who made the greatest efforts, and with the least success. He had told himself again and again that he was bound be every sense of duty to swallow all regrets. He had taken himself to task on this matter. He had done so even out loud to his son. He had declared that he would 'let it all pass from' him.
But who does not know how hard it is for a man in such matters to keep his word to himself? Who has not said to himself at the very moment of his own delinquency, 'Now,--it is now,--at this very instant of time, that I should abate my greed, or smother my ill-humour, or abandon my hatred. It is now, and here, that I should drive out the fiend, as I have sworn to myself that I would do.'--and yet has failed?
That it would be done, would be done at last, by this man was very certain. When Silverbridge assured his sister that 'it would all come right very soon,' he had understood his father's character.
But it could not be completed quite at once. Had he been required to take Isabel only to his heart, it would have been comparatively easy. There are men, who do not seem at first sight very susceptible to feminine attractions, who nevertheless are dominated by the grace of flounces, who succumb to petticoats unconsciously, and who are half in love with every woman merely for her womanhood. So it was with the Duke. He had given way in regard to Isabel with less than half the effort that Frank Tregear was likely to cost him.
'You were not at the House, sir,' said Silverbridge when he felt that there was a pause.
'No, not today.' Then there was a pause again.
'I think that we shall beat Cambridge this year to a moral,' said Gerald, who was sitting at the round table opposite to his father.
Mr Boncassen, who was next him, asked, in irony probably rather than in ignorance, whether the victory was to be achieved by mathematical or classical proficiency. Gerald turned and looked at him. 'Do you mean to say that you have never heard of the University boat-races?'
'Papa, you have disgraced yourself for ever,' said Isabel.
'Have I, my dear? Yes, I have heard of them. But I thought Lord Gerald's protestation was too great for a mere aquatic triumph.'
'Now you are poking your fun at me,' said Gerald.
'Well he may,' said the Duke sententiously. 'We have laid ourselves very open to having fun poked at us in this matter.'
'I think,' said Tregear, 'that they are learning to do the same sort of thing in American Universities.'
'Oh, indeed,' said the Duke in a solemn, dry, funereal tone. And then all the little life which Gerald's remark about the boat-race had produced, was quenched at once. The Duke was not angry with Tregear for his little word of defence,--but he was not able to bring himself into harmony with this one guest, and was almost savage to him without meaning it. He was continually asking himself why Destiny had been so hard upon him as to force him to receive there at his table as his son-in-law a man who was distasteful to him. And he was endeavouring to answer the question, taking himself to task and telling himself that his destiny had done him no injury, and that the pride which had been wounded was a false pride. He was making a brave fight; but during the fight he was hardly fit to be the genial father and father-in-law of young people who were going to be married to one another.
But before the dinner was over he made a great effort. 'Tregear,' he said,--and even that was an effort, for he had never hitherto mentioned the man's name without the formal Mister, 'Tregear, as this is the first time you have sat at my table, let me be old-fashioned, and ask you to drink a glass of wine with me.'
The glass of wine was drunk and the ceremony afforded infinite satisfaction to one person there. Mary could not keep herself from some expression of joy by pressing her finger for a moment against her lover's arm. He, though not usually given to such manifestations, blushed up to his eyes. But the feeling produced on the company was solemn rather than jovial. Everyone there understood it all. Mr Boncassen could read the Duke's mind down to the last line. Even Mrs Boncassen was aware that an act of reconciliation had been intended. 'When the governor drank that glass of wine it seemed as though half the marriage ceremony had been performed,' Gerald said to his brother that evening. When the Duke's glass was replaced on the table, he himself was conscious of the solemnity of what he had done, and was half ashamed of it.
When the ladies had gone upstairs the conversation became political and lively. The Duke could talk freely about the state of things to Mr Boncassen, and was able gradually to include Tregear in the badinage with which he attacked the conservatism of his son. And so the half hour passed well. Upstairs the two girls immediately came together, leaving Mrs Boncassen to chew the cud of the grandeur around her in the sleepy comfort of an arm-chair.
'And so everything is settled for both of us,' said Isabel.
'Of course I knew it was to be settled for you. You told me so at Custins.'
'I did not know it then. I only told you that he had asked me. And you hardly believed me.'
'I certainly believed you.'
'But you knew about--Lady Mabel Grex.'
'I only suspected something, and now I know it was a mistake. It has never been more than a suspicion.'
'And why, when we were at Custins, did you not tell me about yourself?'
'I had nothing to tell.'
'I can understand that. But is it not joyful that it should all be settled? Only poor Lady Mabel! You have got no Lady Mabel to trouble your conscience.' From which it was evident that Silverbridge had not told all.
