CHAPTER LXIX.
From Baden to Lucerne.
The second week in July saw Mr. Palliser's party, carriage and all,established at Lucerne, in Switzerland, safe beyond the reach ofthe German gambling tables. Alice Vavasor was still with them; andthe reader will therefore understand that that quarrel about LadyGlencora's wickedness had been settled without any rupture. It hadbeen settled amicably, and by the time that they had reached Lucerne,Alice was inclined to acknowledge that the whole thing was not worthnotice; but for many days her anger against Mr. Palliser had not beenremoved, and her intimacy with him had been much checked. It was nowa month since the occurrence of that little scene in the salon atBaden, which was described in the last chapter,--since Mr. Palliserhad marched off with his wife, leaving Alice to follow as she bestcould by herself. After that, as the reader may remember, he hadalmost told her that she was to be blamed because of his wife'sindiscretion and when she had declared her intention of leaving him,and making her way home to England by herself, he had answered hernot at all, and had allowed her to go off to her own room under thefull ban of his displeasure. Since that he had made no apology toher; he had not, in so many words, acknowledged that he had wrongedher; but Alice had become aware that he intended to apologize by hisconduct, and she had been content so far to indulge his obstinacy asto accept this conduct on his part in lieu of any outspoken petitionfor pardon. The acknowledgement of a mistake and the asking for graceis almost too much for any woman to expect from such a man as Mr.Palliser.
Early on the morning after the scene in question, Lady Glencorahad gone into Alice's bedroom, and had found her cousin in herdressing-gown, packing up her things, or looking as though sheintended to do so. "You are not such a fool," she said, "as to thinkanything of what occurred yesterday?" Alice assured her that, whetherfool or not, she did think a great deal of it. "In point of fact,"said Alice, "I can't stand it. He expects me to take care of you, andchooses to show himself offended if you don't do just what he thinksproper; whereas, as you know well enough, I have not the slightestinfluence over you." All these positions Lady Glencora contradictedvigorously. Of course, Mr. Palliser had been wrong in walking outof the Assembly Rooms as he had done, leaving Alice behind him. Somuch Lady Glencora admitted. But this had come of his intense anxiety."And you know what a man he is," said his wife--"how stiff, and hard,and unpleasant he can be without meaning it."--"There is no reasonwhy I should bear his unpleasantness," said Alice. "Yes, thereis,--great reason. You are to do it for the sake of friendship. Andas for my not doing what you tell me, you know that's not true."
"Did I not beg you to keep away from the table?"
"Of course you did, and of course I was naughty; but that was onlyonce. Alice, I want you more than I ever wanted you before. I cannottell you more now, but you must stay with me."
Alice consented to come down to breakfast without any immediatecontinuance of her active preparations for going, and at last, ofcourse, she stayed. When she entered the breakfast-room Mr. Pallisercame up to her, and offered her his hand. She had no alternativebut to take it, and then seated herself. That there was an intendedapology in the manner in which he offered her toast and butter, shewas convinced; and the special courtesy with which he handed her tothe carriage, when she and Lady Glencora went out for their drive,after dinner, was almost as good as a petition for pardon. So thething went on, and by degrees Mr. Palliser and Miss Vavasor were againfriends.
But Alice never knew in what way the matter was settled betweenMr. Palliser and his wife, or whether there was any such settling.Probably there was none. "Of course, he understands that it didn'tmean anything," Lady Glencora had said. "He knows that I don't wantto gamble." But let that be as it might, their sojourn at Baden wascurtailed, and none of the party went up again to the Assembly Roomsbefore their departure.
Before establishing themselves at Lucerne they made a little tourround by the Falls of the Rhine and Zurich. In their preparationsfor this journey, Alice made a struggle, but a struggle in vain, toavoid a passage through Basle. It was only too clear to her that Mr.Palliser was determined to go by Basle. She could not bring herselfto say that she had recollections connected with that place whichwould make a return to it unpleasant to her. If she could havesaid as much, even to Glencora, Mr. Palliser would no doubt havegone round,--round by any more distant route that might have beennecessary to avoid that eternal gateway into Switzerland. But shecould not say it. She was very averse to talking about herself andher own affairs, even with her cousin. Of course Lady Glencora knewthe whole story of Mr. John Grey and his rejection,--and knew muchalso of that other story of Mr. George Vavasor. And, of course, likeall Alice's friends, she hated George Vavasor, and was prepared toreceive Mr. John Grey with open arms, if there were any possibilitythat her cousin would open her arms to him also. But Alice was sostubborn about her own affairs that her friend found it almostimpossible to speak of them. "It is not that you trouble me," Aliceonce said, "but that you trouble yourself about that which is of nouse. It is all done and over; and though I know that I have behavedbadly,--very badly,--yet I believe that everything has been done forthe best. I am inclined to think that I can live alone, or perhapswith my cousin Kate, more happily than I could with any husband."
"That is such nonsense."
"Perhaps so; but, at any rate, I mean to try. We Vavasors don't seemto be good at marrying."
"You want some one to break your heart for you; that's what youwant," said Lady Glencora. In saying this she knew but little ofthe state of her friend's heart, and perhaps was hardly capableof understanding it. With all the fuss that Lady Glencora made toherself,--with all the tears that she had shed about her lost lover,and was so often shedding,--with all her continual thinking of thematter, she had never loved Burgo Fitzgerald as Alice Vavasor hadloved Mr. Grey. But her nature was altogether different to that ofAlice. Love with her had in it a gleam of poetry, a spice of fun,a touch of self-devotion, something even of hero-worship; but withit all there was a dash of devilry, and an aptitude almost forwickedness. She knew Burgo Fitzgerald to be a scapegrace, and sheliked him the better on that account. She despised her husbandbecause he had no vices. She would have given everything she hadto Burgo,--pouring her wealth upon him with a total disregard ofherself, had she been allowed to do so. She would have forgiven himsin after sin, and might perhaps have brought him round, at last, tosome life not absolutely reckless and wretched. But in all that shemight have done, there would have been no thoughtfulness,--no truecare either for him or for herself. And now that she was marriedthere was no thoughtfulness, or care either for herself or for herhusband. She was ready to sacrifice herself for him, if any sacrificemight be required of her. She believed herself to be unfit for him,and would have submitted to be divorced,--or smothered out of theway, for the matter of that,--if the laws of the land would havepermitted it. But she had never for a moment given to herself thetask of thinking what conduct on her part might be the best for hiswelfare.
But Alice's love had been altogether of another kind,--and I am by nomeans sure that it was better suited for the work of this work-a-dayworld than that of her cousin. It was too thoughtful. I will notsay that there was no poetry in it, but I will say that it lackedromance. Its poetry was too hard for romance. There was certainlyin it neither fun nor wickedness; nor was there, I fear, so largea proportion of hero-worship as there always should be in a girl'sheart when she gives it away. But there was in it an amountof self-devotion which none of those near to her had hithertounderstood,--unless it were that one to whom the understanding of itwas of the most importance. In all the troubles of her love, of herengagements, and her broken promises, she had thought more of othersthan of herself,--and, indeed, those troubles had chiefly come fromthat self-devotion. She had left John Grey because she feared thatshe would do him no good as his wife,--that she would not make himhappy; and she had afterwards betrothed herself for a second time toher cousin, because she believed that she could serve him by marryinghim
. Of course she had been wrong. She had been very wrong to give upthe man she did love, and more wrong again in suggesting to herselfthe possibility of marrying the man she did not love. She knew thatshe had been wrong in both, and was undergoing repentance with verybitter inward sackcloth. But she said little of all this even to hercousin.
They went to Lucerne by Basle, and put up at the big hotel with thebalcony over the Rhine, which Alice remembered so well. On the firstevening of her arrival she found herself again looking down upon theriver, as though it might have been from the same spot which she hadoccupied together with George and Kate. But, in truth, that house isvery large, and has many bedrooms over the water. Who has ever beenthrough Basle, and not stood in one of them, looking down upon thefather of waters? Here, on this very spot, in one of these balconies,was brought to her a letter from her cousin Kate, which was filledwith tidings respecting her cousin George. Mr. Palliser brought it toher with his own hands, and she had no other alternative but to readit in his presence. "George has lost his election," the letter began.For one moment Alice thought of her money, and the vain strugglein which it had been wasted. For one moment, something like regretfor the futility of the effort she had made came upon her. But itpassed away at once. "It was worth our while to try it," she said toherself, and then went on with her letter. "I and Aunt Greenow are upin London," the letter went on to say, "and have just heard the news.Though I have been here for three days, and have twice sent word tohim to say so, he has not been near me. Perhaps it is best that heshould stay away, as I do not know how any words could pass betweenus that would be pleasant. The poll was finished this afternoon, andhe lost his election by a large majority. There were five candidatesaltogether for the two seats--three Liberals, and two Conservatives.The other two Liberals were seated, and he was the last of the five.I continue to hear tidings about him from day to day,--or rather, myaunt hears them and tells them to me, which fill me full of fears asto his future career. I believe that he has abandoned his business,and that he has now no source of income. I would willingly share whatI have with him; or I would do more than that. After keeping backenough to repay you gradually what he owes you, I would give him allmy share of the income out of the estate. But I cannot do this whilewe are presumed to be enemies. I am up here to see a lawyer as tosome steps which he is taking to upset grandpapa's will. The lawyersays that it is all nonsense, and that George's lawyer is not reallyin earnest; but I cannot do anything till the matter is settled. DearAlice, though so much of your money is for a time gone, I am bound tocongratulate you on your safety,--on what I may more truly call yourescape. You will understand what my own feelings must be in writingthis, after all that I did to bring you and him together,--after allmy hopes and ambition respecting him. As for the money, it shall berepaid. I do not think I shall ever dare to indulge in any strongdesire again. I think you will forgive me the injury I have doneyou;--and I know that you will pity me.
"I am here to see the London lawyer,--but not only for that. AuntGreenow is buying her wedding clothes, and Captain Bellfield is inlodgings near to us, also buying his trousseau; or, as I shouldmore properly say, having it bought for him. I am hardly in a moodfor much mirth, but it is impossible not to laugh inwardly whenshe discusses before me the state of his wardrobe, and proposeseconomical arrangements--greatly to his disgust. At present, sheholds him very tightly in hand, and makes him account for all hishours as well as all his money. 'Of course, he'll run wild directlyhe's married,' she said to me, yesterday; 'and, of course, there'llalways be a fight about it; but the more I do to tame him now, theless wild he'll be by-and-by. And though I dare say, I shall scoldhim sometimes, I shall never quarrel with him.' I have no doubt allthat is true; but what a fool she is to trouble herself with such aman. She says she does it for an occupation. I took courage to tellher once that a caged tiger would give her as much to do, and be lessdangerous. She was angry at this, and answered me very sharply. I hadtried my hand on a tiger, she said, and had felt his claws. She choseto sacrifice herself,--if a sacrifice it were to be,--when some goodresult might be possible. I had nothing further to say; and from thattime to this we have been on the pleasantest terms possible as to theCaptain. They have settled with your father to take Vavasor Hall forthree years, and I suppose I shall stay with them till your return.What I may do then will depend entirely upon your doings. I feelmyself to be a desolate, solitary being, without any tie to anyperson, or to any place. I never thought that I should feel the deathof my grandfather to be such a loss to me as it has been. Except you,I have nothing left to me; and, as regards you, I have the unpleasantfeeling that I have for years been endeavouring to do you the worstpossible injury, and that you must regard me as an enemy from whomyou have escaped indeed, but not without terrible wounds."
Alice was always angered by any assumption that her conduct to Mr.Grey had been affected by the advice or influence of her cousin Kate.But this very feeling seemed to preserve Kate from the worse anger,which might have been aroused against her, had Alice acknowledged theinjury which her cousin had in truth done to her. It was undoubtedlytrue that had Alice neither seen nor heard from Kate during theprogress of John Grey's courtship, John Grey would not have lost hiswife. But against this truth Alice was always protesting within herown breast. She had been weak, foolish, irresolute,--and had finallyacted with false judgement. So much she now admitted to herself. Butshe would not admit that any other woman had persuaded her to suchweakness. "She mistakes me," Alice thought, as she put up her letter."She is not the enemy who has wounded me."
Mr. Palliser, who had brought her the letter, was seated in the samebalcony, and while Alice had been reading, had almost buried himselfin newspapers which conveyed intelligence as to the general electionsthen in progress. He was now seated with a sheet of _The Times_ inhis hand, opened to its full extent,--for he had been too impatientto cut the paper,--and as he held it up in his hands before his eyes,was completely hidden beneath it. Five or six other open papers werearound him, and he had not spoken a word since he had commenced hispresent occupation. Lady Glencora was standing on the other side ofhim, and she also had received letters. "Sophy tells me that you arereturned for Silverbridge," she said at last.
"Who? I! yes; I'm returned," said Mr. Palliser, speaking withsomething like disdain in his voice as to the possibility of anybodyhaving stood with a chance of success against him in his own familyborough. For a full appreciation of the advantages of a private seatin the House of Commons let us always go to those great Whig familieswho were mainly instrumental in carrying the Reform Bill. The houseof Omnium had been very great on that occasion. It had given upmuch, and had retained for family use simply the single seat atSilverbridge. But that that seat should be seriously disputed hardlysuggested itself as possible to the mind of any Palliser. ThePallisers and the other great Whig families have been right in this.They have kept in their hands, as rewards for their own services tothe country, no more than the country is manifestly willing to givethem. "Yes; I have been returned," said Mr. Palliser. "I'm sorry tosee, Miss Vavasor, that your cousin has not been so fortunate."
"So I find," said Alice. "It will be a great misfortune to him."
"Ah! I suppose so. Those Metropolitan elections cost so much troubleand so much money, and under the most favourable circumstances, areso doubtful. A man is never sure there till he has fought for hisseat three or four times."
"This has been the third time with him," said Alice, "and he is apoor man."
"Dear, dear," said Mr. Palliser, who himself knew nothing of suchmisfortunes. "I have always thought that those seats should beleft to rich commercial men who can afford to spend money upon them.Instead of that, they are generally contested by men of moderatemeans. Another of my friends in the House has been thrown out."
"Who is that unfortunate?" asked Lady Glencora.
"Mr. Bott," said the unthinking husband.
"Mr. Bott out!" exclaimed Lady Glencora. "Mr. Bott thrown out! I am soglad. Alice, are you not
glad? The red-haired man, that used to standabout, you know, at Matching;--he has lost his seat in Parliament. Isuppose he'll go and stand about somewhere in Lancashire, now."
A very indiscreet woman was poor Lady Glencora. Mr. Palliser's facebecame black beneath _The Times_ newspaper. "I did not know," saidhe, "that my friend Mr. Bott and Miss Vavasor were enemies."
"Enemies! I don't suppose they were enemies," said Glencora. "But hewas a man whom no one could help observing,--and disliking."
"He was a man I specially disliked," said Alice, with great courage."He may be very well in Parliament; but I never met a man who couldmake himself so disagreeable in society. I really did feel myselfconstrained to be his enemy."
"Bravo, Alice!" said Lady Glencora.
"I hope he did nothing at Matching, to--to--to--," began Mr. Palliser,apologetically.
"Nothing especially to offend me, Mr. Palliser,--except that he hada way that I especially dislike of trying to make little secretconfidences."
"And then he was so ugly," said Lady Glencora.
"I felt certain that he endeavoured to do mischief," said Alice.
"Of course he did," said Lady Glencora; "and he had a habit ofrubbing his head against the papers in the rooms, and leaving a markbehind him that was quite unpardonable."
Mr. Palliser was effectually talked down, and felt himself constrainedto abandon his political ally. Perhaps he did this the easier as theloss which Mr. Bott had just suffered would materially interfere withhis political utility. "I suppose he will remain now among his ownpeople," said Mr. Palliser.
"Let us hope he will," said Lady Glencora,--"and that his own peoplewill appreciate the advantage of his presence." Then there wasnothing more said about Mr. Bott.
It was evening, and while they were still sitting among their lettersand newspapers, there came a shout along the water, and the noise ofmany voices from the bridge. Suddenly, there shot down before themin the swift running stream the heads of many swimmers in the river,and with the swimmers came boats carrying their clothes. They wentby almost like a glance of light upon the waters, so rapid was thecourse of the current. There was the shout of voices,--the quickpassage of the boats,--the uprising, some half a dozen times, ofthe men's hands above the surface; and then they were gone down theriver, out of sight,--like morsels of wood thrown into a cataract,which are borne away instantly.
"Oh, how I wish I could do that!" said Lady Glencora.
"It seems to be very dangerous," said Mr. Palliser. "I don't know howthey can stop themselves."
"Why should they want to stop themselves?" said Lady Glencora. "Thinkhow cool the water must be, and how beautiful to be carried along soquickly, and to go on, and on, and on! I suppose we couldn't try it?"
As no encouragement was given to this proposition, Lady Glencora didnot repeat it; but stood leaning on the rail of the balcony, andlooking enviously down upon the water. Alice was, of course, thinkingof that other evening, when perhaps the same swimmers had come downunder the bridge and before the balcony, and where George Vavasor wassitting in her presence. It was, I think, on that evening, that shemade up her mind to separate herself from Mr. Grey.
On the day after that, Mr. Palliser and his party went on toLucerne, making that journey, as I have said, by slow stages; takingSchaffhausen and Zurich in their way. At Lucerne, they establishedthemselves for some time, occupying nearly a dozen rooms in the greathotel which overlooks the lake. Here there came to them a visitor, ofwhose arrival I will speak in the next chapter.