On a Sunday morning,--while Lord Silverbridge was alone in a certain apartment in the house at Carlton Terrace which was called his own sitting-room, the name was brought to him of a gentleman who was anxious to see him. He had seen his father and had used all the eloquence of which he was master,--but not quite with the effect which he had desired. His father had been very kind to him, but he, too, had been eloquent;--and had, as is often the case with orators, been apparently more moved by his own words than by those of his adversary. If he had not absolutely declared himself as irrevocably hostile to Miss Boncassen he had not said a word that might be supposed to give a token of assent.
Silverbridge, therefore, was moody, contemplative, and desirous of solitude. Nothing that the Duke had said had shaken him. He was still sure of his pearl, and quite determined that he would wear it. Various thoughts were running through his brain. What if he were to abdicate the title and become a republican? He was inclined to think that he could not abdicate, but he was quite sure that no one could prevent him from going to America and calling himself Mr Palliser. That his father would forgive him and accept his daughter-in-law brought to him, were he in the first place to marry without sanction, he felt quite sure. What was there that his father would not forgive? But then Isabel would not assent to this. He was turning all this in his head and ever and anon trying to relieve his mind by 'Clarissa', which he was reading in conformity with his father's advice, when the gentleman's card was put into his hand. 'Whatever does he want here?' he said to himself; and then ordered that the gentleman might be shown up. The gentleman in question was our old friend Dolly Longstaff. Dolly Longstaff and Silverbridge had been intimate as young men are. But they were not friends, nor, as far as Silverbridge knew, had Dolly ever set foot in that house before. 'Well, Dolly,' said he, 'what's the matter now?'
'I suppose you are surprised to see me?'
'I didn't think that you were ever up so early.' It was at this time almost noon.
'Oh, come now, that's nonsense. I can get up as early as anybody else. I have changed all that for the last four months. I was at breakfast this morning very soon after ten.'
'What a miracle! Is there anything I can do for you?'
'Well yes,--there is. Of course you are surprised to see me?'
'You never were here before; and therefore it is odd.'
'It is odd. I felt that myself. And when I tell you what I have come about you will think it more odd. I know I can trust you with a secret.'
'That depends, Dolly.'
'What I mean is, I know you are good-natured. There are ever so many fellows that are one's most intimate friends that would say anything on earth they could that was ill-natured.'
'I hope they are not my friends.'
'Oh yes they are. Think of Glasslough, or Popplecourt, or Hindes!
If they knew anything about you that you didn't want to have known,--about a young lady or anything of that kind,--don't you think they'd tell everybody?'
'A man can't tell anything he doesn't know.'
'That's true. I had thought of that myself. But then there's a particular reason for my telling you this. It is about a young lady! You won't tell; will you?'
'No, I won't. But I can't see why on earth you should come to me.
You are ever so many years older than I am.'
'I had thought of that too. But you are just the person I must tell. I want you to help me.'
These last words were said almost in a whisper, and Dolly as he said them had drawn nearer to his friend. Silverbridge remained in suspense, saying nothing by way of encouragement. Dolly, either in love with his own mystery or doubtful of his own purpose, sat still, looking eagerly at his companion. 'What the mischief is it?' asked Silverbridge impatiently.
'I have quite made up my own mind.'
'That's a good thing at any rate.'
'I am not what you would have called a marrying sort of man.'
'I should have said,--no. But I suppose most men do marry sooner or later.'
'That's just what I said to myself. It has to be done, you know.
There are three different properties coming to me. At least one has come already.'
'You're a lucky fellow.'
'I've made up my mind; and when I say a thing I mean to do it.'
'But what can I do?'
'That's just what I'm coming to. If a man does marry I think he ought to be attached to her.' To this, a broad proposition, Silverbridge was ready to accede. But, regarding Dolly, a middle-aged sort of fellow, one of those men who marry because it is convenient to have a house kept for them, he simply nodded his head. 'I am awfully attached to her,' Dolly went on to say.
'That's all right.'
'Of course there are fellows who marry girls for their money. I've known men who had married their grandmothers.'
'Not really!'
'That kind of thing. When a woman is old it does not much matter who she is. But my one! She's not old!'
'Nor rich?'
'Well;--I don't know about that. But I'm not after her money. Pray understand that. It's because I'm downright fond of her. She's an American.'
'A what!' said Silverbridge, startled.
'You know her. That's the reason I've come to you. It's Miss Boncassen.' A dark frown came across the young man's face. That all this should be said to him was disgusting. That an owl like that should dare to talk of loving Miss Boncassen was offensive to him.
'It's because you know her that I've come to you. She thinks that you're after her.' Dolly as he said this lifted himself quickly up in his seat, and nodded his head mysteriously as he looked into his companion's face. It was as much as though he should say, 'I see you are surprised, but so it is.' Then he went on. 'She does, pert poppet!' This was almost too much for Silverbridge; but still he contained himself. 'She won't look at me because she has got it into her head that perhaps some day she may become Duchess of Omnium! That of course is out of the question.'
'Upon my word all this seems to me to be so very--very,--distasteful that I think you had better say nothing more about it.'