LOPEZ BACK IN LONDON.
Lopez, as he returned to town, recovered something of his senses, though he still fancied that Arthur Fletcher had done him a positive injury by writing to his wife.But something of that madness left him which had come from a deep sense of injury, both as to the letter and as to the borough, and he began to feel that he had been wrong about the horsewhip.He was very low in spirits on this return journey.The money which he had spent had been material to him, and the loss of it for the moment left him nearly bare.While he had before his eyes the hope of being a member of Parliament he had been able to buoy himself up.The position itself would have gone very far with Sexty Parker, and would, he thought, have had some effect even with his father-in-law.But now he was returning a beaten man.Who is there that has not felt that fall from high hope to utter despair which comes from some single failure? As he thought of this he was conscious that his anger had led him into great imprudence at Silverbridge.He had not been circumspect, as it specially behoved a man to be surrounded by such difficulties as his.All his life he had been schooling his temper so as to keep it under control,--sometimes with great difficulty, but always with a consciousness that in his life everything might depend on it.Now he had, alas, allowed it to get the better of him.No doubt he had been insulted,--but, nevertheless, he had been wrong to speak of a horsewhip.
His one great object must now be to conciliate his father-in-law, and he had certainly increased his difficulty in doing this by his squabble down at Silverbridge.Of course the whole thing would be reported in the London papers, and of course the story would be told against him, as the respectabilities of the town had been opposed to him.But he knew himself to be clever, and he still hoped that he might overcome these difficulties.Then it occurred to him that in doing this he must take care to have his wife entirely on his side.He did not doubt her love; he did not in the least doubt her rectitude--but there was that lamentable fact that she thought well of Arthur Fletcher.It might be that he had been a little too imperious with his wife.
It suited his disposition to be imperious within his own household;--to be imperious out of it, if that were possible;--but he was conscious of having had a fall at Silverbridge, and he must for a while take in some sail.
He had telegraphed to her, acquainting her with his defeat, and telling her to expect his return.'Oh, Ferdinand,' she said, 'Iam so unhappy about this.It has made me so wretched!'
'Better luck next time,' he said with his sweetest smile.'It is not good groaning over spilt milk.They haven't treated me really well,--have they?'
'I suppose not,--though I do not quite understand it all.'
He was burning to abuse Arthur Fletcher, but he abstained.He would abstain at any rate for the present moment.'Dukes and duchesses are no doubt very grand people,' he said, 'but it is a pity they should not know now to behave honestly, as they expect others to behave to them.The Duchess has thrown me over in the most infernal way.I really can't understand it.When I think of it I am in wonder.The truth, I suppose, is, that there has been some quarrel between him and her.'
'Who will get in?'
'Oh Du Boung, no doubt.' He did not think so, but he could not bring himself to declare the success of his enemy to her.'The people there know him.Your old friend is as much a stranger there as I am.By-the-way, he and I had a little row in the place.'
'A row, Ferdinand?'
'You needn't look like that, my pet.I haven't killed him.But he came up to speak to me in the street, and I told him what Ithought about his writing to you.' On hearing this Emily looked very wretched.'I could not restrain myself from doing that.
Come,--you must admit that he shouldn't have written.'
'He meant it in kindness.'
'Then he shouldn't have meant it.Just think of it.Suppose that I had making up to any girl,--which by-the-way I never did but to one in my life,'--then he put his arm round her waist and kissed her, 'and she were to have married someone else.What would have been said of me if I had begun to correspond with her immediately? Don't suppose I am blaming you, dear.'
'Certainly I do not suppose that,' said Emily.
'But you must admit that it was rather strong.' He paused, but she said nothing.'Only I suppose you can bring yourself to admit nothing against him.However, so it was.There was a row, and a policeman came up, and they made me give a promise that Ididn't mean to shoot him or anything of that kind.' As she heard this she turned pale, but said nothing.'Of course I didn't want to shoot him.I wished him to know what I thought about it, and I told him.I hate to trouble you with all this, but I couldn't bear that you shouldn't know it all.'
'It is very sad!'
'Sad enough! I have had plenty to bear I can tell you.
Everybody seemed to turn away from me there.Everybody deserted me.' As he said this he could perceive that he must obtain her sympathy by recounting his own miseries and not Arthur Fletcher's sins.'I was all alone and hardly knew how to hold up my head against so much wretchedness.And then I found myself called upon to pay an enormous sum for my expenses.'
'Oh, Ferdinand!'
'Think of their demanding 500 pounds!'
'Did you pay it?'
'Yes, indeed.I had no alternative.Of course they took care to come for that before they talked of my resigning.I believe it was all planned beforehand.The whole thing seems to me to have been a swindle from beginning to end.By heaven, I'm almost inclined to think that the Duchess knew all about it herself!'
'About the 500 pounds!'
'Perhaps not the exact sum, but the way in which the thing was to be done.In these days one doesn't know whom to trust.Men, and women too, have become so dishonest that nobody is safe anywhere.
