Can You Forgive Her?

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXVII.

  The Last Kiss.

  Alice, on her return from Westmoreland, went direct to Park Lane,whither Lady Glencora and Mr. Palliser had also returned beforeher. She was to remain with them in London one entire day, and onthe morning after that they were to start for Paris. She foundMr. Palliser in close attendance upon his wife. Not that there wasanything in his manner which at all implied that he was keeping watchover her, or that he was more with her, or closer to her than aloving husband might wish to be with a young wife; but the mode oflife was very different from that which Alice had seen at MatchingPriory!

  On her arrival Mr. Palliser himself received her in the hall, and tookher up to his wife before she had taken off her travelling hat. "Weare so much obliged to you, Miss Vavasor," he said. "I feel it quiteas deeply as Glencora."

  "Oh, no," she said; "it is I that am under obligation to you fortaking me."

  He merely smiled, and shook his head, and then took her up-stairs.On the stairs he said one other word to her: "You must forgive me ifI was cross to you that night she went out among the ruins." Alicemuttered something,--some little fib of courtesy as to the matterhaving been forgotten, or never borne in mind; and then they went onto Lady Glencora's room. It seemed to Alice that he was not so bigor so much to be dreaded as when she had seen him at Matching. Hisdescent from an expectant, or more than an expectant, Chancellor ofthe Exchequer, down to a simple, attentive husband, seemed to affecthis gait, his voice, and all his demeanour. When he received Alice atthe Priory he certainly loomed before her as something great, whereasnow his greatness seemed to have fallen from him. We must own thatthis was hard upon him, seeing that the deed by which he had divestedhimself of his greatness had been so pure and good!

  "Dear Alice, this is so good of you! I am all in the midst ofpacking, and Plantagenet is helping me." Plantagenet winced a littleunder this, as the hero of old must have winced when he was foundwith the distaff. Mr. Palliser had relinquished his sword of statefor the distaff which he had assumed, and could take no glory in thechange. There was, too, in his wife's voice the slightest hint ofmockery, which, slight as it was, he perhaps thought she might havespared. "You have nothing left to pack," continued Glencora, "and Idon't know what you can do to amuse yourself."

  "I will help you," said Alice.

  "But we have so very nearly done. I think we shall have to pull allthe things out, and put them up again, or we shall never get throughto-morrow. We couldn't start to-morrow;--could we, Plantagenet?"

  "Not very well, as your rooms are ordered in Paris for the next day."

  "As if we couldn't find rooms at every inn on the road. Men areso particular. Now in travelling I should like never to orderrooms,--never to know where I was going or when I was going, and tocarry everything I wanted in a market-basket." Alice, who by thistime had followed her friend along the passage to her bedroom, andhad seen how widely the packages were spread about, bethought herselfthat the market-basket should be a large one. "And I would nevertravel among Christians. Christians are so slow, and they wearchimney-pot hats everywhere. The further one goes from London amongChristians, the more they wear chimney-pot hats. I want Plantagenetto take us to see the Kurds, but he won't."

  "I don't think that would be fair to Miss Vavasor," said Mr. Palliser,who had followed them.

  "Don't put the blame on her head," said Lady Glencora. "Women havealways pluck for anything. Wouldn't you like to see a live Kurd,Alice?"

  "I don't exactly know where they live," said Alice.

  "Nor I. I have not the remotest idea of the way to the Kurds. You seemy joke, don't you, though Plantagenet doesn't? But one knows thatthey are Eastern, and the East is such a grand idea!"

  "I think we'll content ourselves with Rome, or perhaps Naples, onthis occasion," said Mr. Palliser.

  The notion of Lady Glencora packing anything for herself was as gooda joke as that other one of the Kurds and whey. But she went flittingabout from room to room, declaring that this thing must be taken,and that other, till the market-basket would have become very largeindeed. Alice was astonished at the extent of the preparations, andthe sort of equipage with which they were about to travel. LadyGlencora was taking her own carriage. "Not that I shall ever use it,"she said to Alice, "but he insists upon it, to show that I am notsupposed to be taken away in disgrace. He is so good;--isn't he?"

  "Very good," said Alice. "I know no one better."

  "And so dull!" said Lady Glencora. "But I fancy that all husbands aredull from the nature of their position. If I were a young woman'shusband, I shouldn't know what to say to her that wasn't dull."

  Two women and two men servants were to be taken. Alice had receivedpermission to bring her own maid--"or a dozen, if you want them,"Lady Glencora had said. "Mr. Palliser in his present mood would thinknothing too much to do for you. If you were to ask him to go amongthe Kurds, he'd go at once;--or on to Crim Tartary, if you made apoint of it." But as both Lady Glencora's servants spoke French, andas her own did not, Alice trusted herself in that respect to hercousin. "You shall have one all to yourself," said Lady Glencora. "Ionly take two for the same reason that I take the carriage,--just asyou let a child go out in her best frock, for a treat, after you'vescolded her."

  When Alice asked why it was supposed that Mr. Palliser was sospecially devoted to her, the thing was explained to her. "You see,my dear, I have told him everything. I always do tell everything.Nobody can say I am not candid. He knows about your not letting mecome to your house in the old days. Oh, Alice!--you were wrong then;I shall always say that. But it's done and gone; and things that aredone and gone shall be done and gone for me. And I told him all thatyou said,--about you know what. I have had nothing else to do butmake confessions for the last ten days, and when a woman once begins,the more she confesses the better. And I told him that you refusedJeffrey."

  "You didn't?"

  "I did indeed, and he likes you the better for that. I think he'dlet Jeffrey marry you now if you both wished it;--and then, ohdear!--supposing that you had a son and that we adopted it?"

  "Cora, if you go on in that way I will not remain with you."

  "But you must, my dear. You can't escape now. At any rate, you can'twhen we once get to Paris. Oh dear! you shouldn't grudge me my littlenaughtinesses. I have been so proper for the last ten days. Do youknow I got into a way of driving Dandy and Flirt at the rate of sixmiles an hour, till I'm sure the poor beasts thought they were alwaysgoing to a funeral. Poor Dandy and poor Flirt! I shan't see them nowfor another year."

  On the following morning they breakfasted early, because Mr. Palliserhad got into an early habit. He had said that early hours would begood for them. "But he never tells me why," said Lady Glencora."I think it is pleasant when people are travelling," said Alice."It isn't that," her cousin answered; "but we are all to be suchparticularly good children. It's hardly fair, because he went tosleep last night after dinner while you and I kept ourselves awake:but we needn't do that another night, to be sure." After breakfastthey all three went to work to do nothing. It was ludicrous andalmost painful to see Mr. Palliser wandering about and counting theboxes, as though he could do any good by that. At this special crisisof his life he hated his papers and figures and statistics, andcould not apply himself to them. He, whose application had beenso unremitting, could apply himself now to nothing. His world hadbeen brought to an abrupt end, and he was awkward at making a newbeginning. I believe that they all three were reading novels beforeone o'clock. Lady Glencora and Alice had determined that they wouldnot leave the house throughout the day. "Nothing has been said aboutit, but I regard it as part of the bond that I'm not to go outanywhere. Who knows but what I might be found in Gloucester Square?"There was, however, no absolute necessity that Mr. Palliser shouldremain with them; and, at about three, he prepared himself for asolitary walk. He would not go down to the House. All interest in theHouse was over with him for the present. He had the Speaker's leaveto absent himself for the season. Nor would h
e call on anyone. Allhis friends knew, or believed they knew, that he had left town. Hisdeath and burial had been already chronicled, and were he now toreappear, he could reappear only as a ghost. He was being talkedof as the departed one;--or rather, such talk on all sides had nowcome nearly to an end. The poor Duke of St. Bungay still thought ofhim with regret when more than ordinarily annoyed by some specialgrievance coming to him from Mr. Finespun; but even the Duke hadbecome almost reconciled to the present order of things. Mr. Palliserknew better than to disturb all this by showing himself again inpublic; and prepared himself, therefore, to take another walk underthe elms in Kensington Gardens.

  He had his hat on his head in the hall, and was in the act of puttingon his gloves, when there came a knock at the front door. Thehall-porter was there, a stout, plethoric personage, not givento many words, who was at this moment standing with his master'sumbrella in his hand, looking as though he would fain be of some useto somebody, if any such utility were compatible with the purposesof his existence. Now had come this knock at the door, while theumbrella was still in his hand, and the nature of his visage changed,and it was easy to see that he was oppressed by the temporarymultiplicity of his duties. "Give me the umbrella, John," said Mr.Palliser. John gave up the umbrella, and opening the door disclosedBurgo Fitzgerald standing upon the door-step. "Is Lady Glencora athome?" asked Burgo, before he had seen the husband. John turned adismayed face upon his master, as though he knew that the comer oughtnot to be making a morning call at that house,--as no doubt he didknow very well,--and made no instant reply. "I am not sure," saidMr. Palliser, making his way out as he had originally purposed. "Theservant will find out for you." Then he went on his way across ParkLane and into the Park, never once turning back his face to seewhether Burgo had effected an entrance into the house. Nor did hereturn a minute earlier than he would otherwise have done. After all,there was something chivalrous about the man.

  "Yes; Lady Glencora was at home," said the porter, not stirring tomake any further inquiry. It was no business of his if Mr. Palliserchose to receive such a guest. He had not been desired to say thather ladyship was not at home. Burgo was therefore admitted and showndirect up into the room in which Lady Glencora was sitting. As chancewould have it, she was alone. Alice had left her and was in herown chamber, and Lady Glencora was sitting at the window of thesmall room up-stairs that overlooked the Park. She was seated on afootstool with her face between her hands when Burgo was admitted,thinking of him, and of what the world might have been to her had"they left her alone," as she was in the habit of saying to Alice andto herself.

  She rose quickly, so that he saw her only as she was rising. "AskMiss Vavasor to come to me," she said, as the servant left the room;and then she came forward to greet her lover.

  "Cora," he said, dashing at once into his subject--hopelessly, butstill with a resolve to do as he had said that he would do. "Cora,I have come to you, to ask you to go with me."

  "I will not go with you," said she.

  "Do not answer me in that way, without a moment's thought. Everythingis arranged--"

  "Yes, everything is arranged," she said. "Mr. Fitzgerald, let meask you to leave me alone, and to behave to me with generosity.Everything is arranged. You can see that my boxes are all preparedfor going. Mr. Palliser and I, and my friend, are starting to-morrow.Wish me God-speed and go, and be generous."

  "And is this to be the end of everything?" He was standing close toher, but hitherto he had only touched her hand at greeting her. "Giveme your hand, Cora," he said.

  "No;--I will never give you my hand again. You should be generous tome and go. This is to be the end of everything,--of everything thatis common to you and to me. Go, when I ask you."

  "Cora; did you ever love me?"

  "Yes; I did love you. But we were separated, and there was no roomfor love left between us."

  "You are as dear to me now,--dearer than ever you were. Do not lookat me like that. Did you not tell me when we last parted that I mightcome to you again? Are we children, that others should come betweenus and separate us like that?"

  "Yes, Burgo; we are children. Here is my cousin coming. You mustleave me now." As she spoke the door was opened and Alice entered theroom. "Miss Vavasor, Mr. Fitzgerald," said Lady Glencora. "I havetold him to go and leave me. Now that you have come, Alice, he willperhaps obey me."

  Alice was dumbfounded, and knew not how to speak either to him or toher; but she stood with her eyes riveted on the face of the man ofwhom she had heard so much. Yes; certainly he was very beautiful. Shehad never before seen man's beauty such as that. She found it quiteimpossible to speak a word to him then--at the spur of the moment,but she acknowledged the introduction with a slight inclination ofthe head, and then stood silent, as though she were waiting for himto go.

  "Mr. Fitzgerald, why do you not leave me and go?" said Lady Glencora.

  Poor Burgo also found it difficult enough to speak. What could hesay? His cause was one which certainly did not admit of being pleadedin the presence of a strange lady; and he might have known from themoment in which he heard Glencora's request that a third personshould be summoned to their meeting--and probably did know, thatthere was no longer any hope for him. It was not on the cards that heshould win. But there remained one thing that he must do. He must gethimself out of that room; and how was he to effect that?

  "I had hoped," said he, looking at Alice, though he addressed LadyGlencora--"I had hoped to be allowed to speak to you alone for a fewminutes."

  "No, Mr. Fitzgerald; it cannot be so. Alice do not go. I sent for mycousin when I saw you, because I did not choose to be alone with you.I have asked you to go--"

  "You perhaps have not understood me?"

  "I understand you well enough."

  "Then, Mr. Fitzgerald," said Alice, "why do you not do as LadyGlencora has asked you? You know--you must know, that you ought notto be here."

  "I know nothing of the kind," said he, still standing his ground.

  "Alice," said Lady Glencora, "we will leave Mr. Fitzgerald here, sincehe drives us from the room."

  In such contests, a woman has ever the best of it at all points. Theman plays with a button to his foil, while the woman uses a weaponthat can really wound. Burgo knew that he must go,--felt that hemust skulk away as best he might, and perhaps hear a low titter ofhalf-suppressed laughter as he went. Even that might be possible."No, Lady Glencora," he said, "I will not drive you from the room.As one must be driven out, it shall be I. I own I did think that youwould at any rate have been--less hard to me." He then turned to go,bowing again very slightly to Miss Vavasor.

  He was on the threshold of the door before Glencora's voice recalledhim. "Oh my God!" she said, "I am hard,--harder than flint. I amcruel. Burgo!" And he was back with her in a moment, and had takenher by the hand.

  "Glencora," said Alice, "pray,--pray let him go. Mr. Fitzgerald, ifyou are a man, do not take advantage of her folly."

  "I will speak to him," said Lady Glencora. "I will speak to him,and then he shall leave me." She was holding him by the hand nowand turning to him, away from Alice, who had taken her by the arm."Burgo," she said, repeating his name twice again, with all thepassion that she could throw into the word,--"Burgo, no good can comeof this. Now, you must leave me. You must go. I shall stay with myhusband as I am bound to do. Because I have wronged you, I will notwrong him also. I loved you;--you know I loved you." She still heldhim by the hand, and was now gazing up into his face, while the tearswere streaming from her eyes.

  "Sir," said Alice, "you have heard from her all that you can care tohear. If you have any feeling of honour in you, you will leave her."

  "I will never leave her, while she tells me that she loves me!"

  "Yes, Burgo, you will;--you must! I shall never tell you that again,never. Do as she bids you. Go, and leave us;--but I could not bearthat you should tell me that I was hard."

  "You are hard;--hard and cruel, as you said, yourself."

  "Am I? May God forgive
you for saying that of me!"

  "Then why do you send me away?"

  "Because I am a man's wife, and because I care for his honour, if notfor my own. Alice, let us go."

  He still held her, but she would have been gone from him had he notstooped over her, and put his arm round her waist. In doing this, Idoubt whether he was quicker than she would have been had she chosento resist him. As it was, he pressed her to his bosom, and, stoopingover her, kissed her lips. Then he left her, and making his way outof the room, and down the stairs, got himself out into the street.

  "Thank God, that he is gone!" said Alice.

  "You may say so," said Lady Glencora, "for you have lost nothing!"

  "And you have gained everything!"

  "Have I? I did not know that I had ever gained anything, as yet. Theonly human being to whom I have ever yet given my whole heart,--theonly thing that I have ever really loved, has just gone from me forever, and you bid me thank God that I have lost him. There is no roomfor thankfulness in any of it;--either in the love or in the loss. Itis all wretchedness from first to last!"

  "At any rate, he understands now that you meant it when you told himto leave you."

  "Of course I meant it. I am beginning to know myself by degrees. Asfor running away with him, I have not the courage to do it. I canthink of it, scheme for it, wish for it;--but as for doing it, thatis beyond me. Mr. Palliser is quite safe. He need not try to coax meto remain."

  Alice knew that it was useless to argue with her, so she came and satover her,--for Lady Glencora had again placed herself on the stoolby the window,--and tried to sooth her by smoothing her hair, andnursing her like a child.

  "Of course I know that I ought to stay where I am," she said,breaking out, almost with rage, and speaking with quick, eager voice."I am not such a fool as to mistake what I should be if I left myhusband, and went to live with that man as his mistress. You don'tsuppose that I should think that sort of life very blessed. Butwhy have I been brought to such a pass as this? And, as for femalepurity! Ah! What was their idea of purity when they forced me, likeogres, to marry a man for whom they knew I never cared? Had I gonewith him,--had I now eloped with that man who ought to have been myhusband,--whom would a just God have punished worst,--me, or thosetwo old women and my uncle, who tortured me into this marriage?"

  "Come, Cora,--be silent."

  "I won't be silent! You have had the making of your own lot. You havedone what you liked, and no one has interfered with you. You havesuffered, too; but you, at any rate, can respect yourself."

  "And so can you, Cora,--thoroughly, now."

  "How;--when he kissed me, and I could hardly restrain myself fromgiving him back his kiss tenfold, could I respect myself? But it isall sin. I sin towards my husband, feigning that I love him; andI sin in loving that other man, who should have been my husband.There;--I hear Mr. Palliser at the door. Come away with me; or rather,stay, for he will come up here, and you can keep him in talk while Itry to recover myself."

  Mr. Palliser did at once as his wife had said, and came up-stairsto the little front room, as soon as he had deposited his hat inthe hall. Alice was, in fact, in doubt what she should do, as tomentioning, or omitting to mention, Mr. Fitzgerald's name. In anordinary way, it would be natural that she should name any visitorwho had called, and she specially disliked the idea of remainingsilent because that visitor had come as the lover of her host's wife.But, on the other hand, she owed much to Lady Glencora; and therewas no imperative reason, as things had gone, why she should makemischief. There was no further danger to be apprehended. But Mr.Palliser at once put an end to her doubts. "You have had a visitorhere?" said he.

  "Yes," said Alice.

  "I saw him as I went out," said Mr. Palliser. "Indeed, I met himat the hall door. He, of course, was wrong to come here;--so wrong,that he deserves punishment, if there were any punishment for suchoffences."

  "He has been punished, I think," said Alice.

  "But as for Glencora," continued Mr. Palliser, without any apparentnotice of what Alice had said, "I thought it better that she shouldsee him or not, as she should herself decide."

  "She had no choice in the matter. As it turned out, he was shown uphere at once. She sent for me, and I think she was right to do that."

  "Glencora was alone when he came in?"

  "For a minute or two,--till I could get to her."

  "I have no questions to ask about it," said Mr. Palliser, afterwaiting for a few moments. He had probably thought that Alice wouldsay something further. "I am very glad that you were within reach ofher, as otherwise her position might have been painful. For her, andfor me perhaps, it may be as well that he has been here. As for him,I can only say, that I am forced to suppose him to be a villain. Whata man does when driven by passion, I can forgive; but that he shoulddeliberately plan schemes to ruin both her and me, is what I canhardly understand." As he made this little speech I wonder whetherhis conscience said anything to him about Lady Dumbello, and acertain evening in his own life, on which he had ventured to callthat lady, Griselda.

  The little party of three dined together very quietly, and afterdinner they all went to work with their novels. Before long Alice sawthat Mr. Palliser was yawning, and she began to understand how muchhe had given up in order that his wife might be secure. It was then,when he had left the room for a few minutes, in order that he mightwake himself by walking about the house, that Glencora told Alice ofhis yawning down at Matching. "I used to think that he would fall inpieces. What are we to do about it?"

  "Don't seem to notice it," said Alice.

  "That's all very well," said the other; "but he'll set us off yawningas bad as himself, and then he'll notice it. He has given himself upto politics, till nothing else has any salt in it left for him. Icannot think why such a man as that wanted a wife at all."

  "You are very hard upon him, Cora."

  "I wish you were his wife, with all my heart. But, of course, I knowwhy he got married. And I ought to feel for him as he has been sogrievously disappointed." Then Mr. Palliser having walked off hissleep, returned to the room, and the remainder of the evening waspassed in absolute tranquillity.

  Burgo Fitzgerald, when he left the house, turned back into GrosvenorSquare, not knowing, at first, whither he was going. He took himselfas far as his uncle's door, and then, having paused there for amoment, hurried on. For half an hour, or thereabouts, something liketrue feeling was at work within his heart. He had once more pressedto his bosom the woman he had, at any rate, thought that he hadloved. He had had his arm round her, and had kissed her, and the tonewith which she had called him by his name was still ringing in hisears, "Burgo!" He repeated his own name audibly to himself, as thoughin this way he could recall her voice. He comforted himself fora minute with the conviction that she loved him. He felt,--fora moment,--that he could live on such consolation as that! Butamong mortals there could, in truth, hardly be one with whom suchconsolation would go a shorter way. He was a man who required to havesuch comfort backed by pates and curacoa to a very large extent, andnow it might be doubted whether the amount of pates and curacoa athis command would last him much longer.

  He would not go in and tell his aunt at once of his failure, as hecould gain nothing by doing so. Indeed, he thought that he would nottell his aunt at all. So he turned back from Grosvenor Square, andwent down to his club in St. James's Street, feeling that billiardsand brandy-and-water might, for the present, be the best restorative.But, as he went back, he blamed himself very greatly in the matter ofthose bank-notes which he had allowed Lady Monk to take from him. Howhad it come to pass that he had been such a dupe in her hands? Whenhe entered his club in St. James's Street his mind had left LadyGlencora, and was hard at work considering how he might best contriveto get that spoil out of his aunt's possession.