it had left to her a sweet flavour, of which she loved to taste the sweetness though she knew that it was gone.  And the man should be her friend, but especially her husband’s friend.  It should be her care to see that his life was successful,—­and especially her husband’s care.  It was a great delight to her to know that her husband liked the man.  And the man would marry, and the man’s wife should be her friend.  All this had been very pure and very pleasant.  Now an idea had flitted across her brain that the man was in love with some one else,—­and she did not like it!

But she did not therefore become afraid of herself, or in the least realise at once the danger of her own position.  Her immediate glance at the matter did not go beyond the falseness of men.  If it were so, as she suspected,—­if Phineas had in truth transferred his affections to Violet Effingham, of how little value was the love of such a man!  It did not occur to her at this moment that she also had transferred hers to Robert Kennedy, or that, if not, she had done worse.  But she did remember that in the autumn this young Phoebus among men had turned his back upon her out upon the mountain that he might hide from her the agony of his heart when he learned that she was to be the wife of another man; and that now, before the winter was over, he could not hide from her the fact that his heart was elsewhere!  And then she speculated, and counted up facts, and satisfied herself that Phineas could not even have seen Violet Effingham since they two had stood together upon the mountain.  How false are men!—­how false and how weak of heart!

“Chiltern and Violet Effingham!” said Phineas to himself, as he walked away from Grosvenor Place.  “Is it fair that she should be sacrificed because she is rich, and because she is so winning and so fascinating that Lord Brentford would receive even his son for the sake of receiving also such a daughter-in-law?” Phineas also liked Lord Chiltern; had seen or fancied that he had seen fine things in him; had looked forward to his regeneration, hoping, perhaps, that he might have some hand in the good work.  But he did not recognise the propriety of sacrificing Violet Effingham even for work so good as this.  If Miss Effingham had refused Lord Chiltern twice, surely that ought to be sufficient.  It did not occur to him that the love of such a girl as Violet would be a great treasure—­to himself.  As regarded himself, he was still in love,—­hopelessly in love, with Lady Laura Kennedy!

CHAPTER XVIII

Mr. Turnbull

It was a Wednesday evening and there was no House;—­and at seven o’clock Phineas was at Mr. Monk’s hall door.  He was the first of the guests, and he found Mr. Monk alone in the dining-room.  “I am doing butler,” said Mr. Monk, who had a brace of decanters in his hands, which he proceeded to put down in the neighbourhood of the fire.  “But I have finished, and now we will go up-stairs to receive the two great men properly.”