CHAPTER 69

Pert Poppet

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.’