Pert Poppet
On a Sunday morning,—while Lord Silverbridge
was alone in a certain apartment in the house at Carlton
Terrace which was called his own sitting-room, the
name was brought to him of a gentleman who was anxious
to see him. He had seen his father and had used
all the eloquence of which he was master,—but
not quite with the effect which he had desired.
His father had been very kind to him, but he, too,
had been eloquent;—and had, as is often
the case with orators, been apparently more moved
by his own words than by those of his adversary.
If he had not absolutely declared himself as irrevocably
hostile to Miss Boncassen he had not said a word that
might be supposed to give a token of assent.
Silverbridge, therefore, was moody, contemplative,
and desirous of solitude. Nothing that the Duke
had said had shaken him. He was still sure of
his pearl, and quite determined that he would wear
it. Various thoughts were running through his
brain. What if he were to abdicate the title
and become a republican? He was inclined to think
that he could not abdicate, but he was quite sure
that no one could prevent him from going to America
and calling himself Mr Palliser. That his father
would forgive him and accept his daughter-in-law brought
to him, were he in the first place to marry without
sanction, he felt quite sure. What was there
that his father would not forgive? But then Isabel
would not assent to this. He was turning all
this in his head and ever and anon trying to relieve
his mind by ‘Clarissa’, which he was reading
in conformity with his father’s advice, when
the gentleman’s card was put into his hand.
’Whatever does he want here?’ he said
to himself; and then ordered that the gentleman might
be shown up. The gentleman in question was our
old friend Dolly Longstaff. Dolly Longstaff and
Silverbridge had been intimate as young men are.
But they were not friends, nor, as far as Silverbridge
knew, had Dolly ever set foot in that house before.
‘Well, Dolly,’ said he, ‘what’s
the matter now?’
‘I suppose you are surprised to see me?’
‘I didn’t think that you were ever up
so early.’ It was at this time almost
noon.
’Oh, come now, that’s nonsense. I
can get up as early as anybody else. I have changed
all that for the last four months. I was at breakfast
this morning very soon after ten.’
‘What a miracle! Is there anything I can
do for you?’
‘Well yes,—there is. Of course
you are surprised to see me?’
‘You never were here before; and therefore it
is odd.’
’It is odd. I felt that myself. And
when I tell you what I have come about you will think
it more odd. I know I can trust you with a secret.’
‘That depends, Dolly.’
’What I mean is, I know you are good-natured.
There are ever so many fellows that are one’s
most intimate friends that would say anything on earth
they could that was ill-natured.’
