Six or seven weeks had passed since Tregear had made his communication to the Duke, and during that time he had heard not a word about the girl he loved. He knew, indeed, that she was at the Horns, and probably had reason to suppose that she was being guarded there, as it were, out of his reach. This did not surprise him; nor did he regard it as a hardship. It was to be expected that she should be kept out of his sight. But this was a state of things to which, as he thought, there should not be more than a moderate amount of submission. Six weeks was not a very long period, but it was perhaps long enough for evincing that respect which he owed to the young lady's father. Something must be done some day. How could he expect her to be true to him unless he took some means of showing himself to be true to her?
In these days he did not live very much with her brother. He not only disliked, but distrusted Major Tifto, and had so expressed himself as to give rise to angry words. Silverbridge had said that he knew how to take care of himself. Tregear had replied that he had his doubts on that matter. Then the Member of Parliament had declared that at any rate he did not intend to be taken care of by Frank Tregear! In such a state of things it was not possible that there should be any close confidence as to Lady Mary. Nor does it often come to pass that the brother is the confidant of his sister's lover. Brothers hardly like their sisters to have lovers, though they are often well satisfied that their sisters should find husbands. Tregear's want of rank and wealth added something to this feeling in the mind this brother, so that Silverbridge, though he felt himself to be deterred by friendship from any open opposition, still was almost inimical. 'It won't do, you know,' he had said to his brother Gerald, shaking his head.
Tregear, however, was determined to be active in the matter, to make some effort, to speak to somebody. But how to make an effort,--and to whom should he speak? Thinking of all this he remembered that Mrs Finn had sent for him and had told him to go with his love story to the Duke. She had been almost severe with him;--but after the interview was over, he had felt that she had acted well and wisely. He therefore determined that he would go to Mrs Finn.
She had as yet received no answer from the Duke, though nearly a fortnight had elapsed since she had written her letter. During that time she had become very angry. She felt that he was not treating her as a gentleman should treat a lady, and certainly not as the husband of her late friend should have treated the friend of his late wife. She had a proud consciousness of having behaved well to the Pallisers, and now this head of the Pallisers was rewarding her by evil treatment. She had been generous; he was ungenerous. She had been honest; he was deficient even in that honesty for which she had given him credit. And she had been unable to obtain any of that consolation which could have come to her from talking of her wrongs. She could not complain to her husband because there were reasons that made it essential that her husband should not quarrel with the Duke. She was hot with indignation at the very moment that Tregear was announced.
He began by apologising for his intrusion, and she of course assured him that he was welcome. 'After the liberty which I took with you, Mr Tregear, I am only too well pleased that you should come to see me.'
'I am afraid,' he said, 'that I was a little rough.'
'A little warm;--but that was to be expected. A gentleman never likes to be interfered with on such a matter.'
'The position was and is difficult, Mrs Finn.'
'And I am bound to acknowledge the very ready way in which you did what I asked you to do.'
'And now, Mrs Finn, what is to come next?'
'Ah!'
'Something must be done! You know of course that the Duke did not receive me with any great favour.'
'I did not suppose he would.'
'Nor did I. Of course he would object to such a marriage. But a man in these days cannot dictate to his daughter what husband she should marry.'
'Perhaps he can dictate to her what husband she shall not marry.'
'Hardly that. He may put impediments in the way; and the Duke will do so. But if I am happy enough to have won the affection of his daughter,--so as to make it essential to her happiness that she should become my wife,--he will give way.'
'What am I to say, Mr Tregear?'
'Just what you think.'
'Why should I be made to say what I think on so delicate a matter?
Or of what use would by my thoughts? Remember how far I am removed from her.'
'You are his friend.'
'Not at all! No one less so!' As she said this she could not hinder the colour from coming into her face. 'I was her friend,--lady Glencora's; but with the death of my friend there was an end of all that.'
'You were staying with him,--at his request. You told me so yourself.'
'I shall never stay with him again. But all that, Mr Tregear, is of no matter. I do not mean to say a word against him;--not a word.
But if you wish to interest any one as being the Duke's friend, then I can assure you that I am the last person in London to whom you should come. I know no one to whom the Duke is likely to entertain any feelings so little kind towards me.' This she said in a peculiarly solemn way that startled Tregear. But before he could answer her a servant entered the room with a letter. She recognised at once the Duke's handwriting. Here was the answer for which she had been so long waiting in silent expectation! She could not keep it unread till he was gone. 'Will you allow me a moment,' she whispered, and then she opened the envelope. As she read the few words her eyes became laden with tears. They quite sufficed to relieve the injured pride which had sat so heavy at her heart. 'I believe I did you a wrong, and therefore I ask you your pardon!' It was so like what she had believed the man to be!
