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Updated: June 26, 2025
Consequences, in this case, connected above all with Kitty's own nature and temperament. The excitement of Cliffe's declaration, of her own resistance and dramatic position, as between her husband and her lover, had worked ever since, as a poison in Kitty's mind Ashe was becoming dismally certain of it. The absurd incident of the night before with the photograph had been enough to prove it.
Cliffe's persecution of Kitty was a piece of confounded bad manners. But to look at it with the round, hypocritical eyes some of these people were bringing to bear on it was really too much! Let them look to their own affairs they needed it. At last the party broke up.
Alcot introduced Cliffe to him, and the small Dean bowed rather stiffly. He was a supporter of the government, and he thought Cliffe's campaign against them vulgar and unfair. "Is there no hope of Lady Kitty?" he said to Mrs. Alcot. "Not much. Shall we go down to lunch?" "Without our hostess?" The Dean opened his eyes. "Oh, Kitty expects it," said Mrs.
"I attacked the official not the man. William knows that." "He is coming in to-day if possible. He wanted to see you." "Good news! William knows that he would have hit just as hard in my place." "I don't think he would," said Kitty, calmly. "He is so generous." The color rushed to Cliffe's face. "Well scored! I wish I had a wife to play these strokes for me.
But you may at least reflect that you have lost us a deal of time." "And now you slay us," said Cliffe. "Ah, well 'dulce et decorum est, etcetera." "Don't imagine that you'll get many of the honors of martyrdom," laughed Ashe in Cliffe's eyes an offensive and triumphant figure, as he leaned carelessly upon a marble pedestal that carried a bust of Horace Walpole. "Why?"
Darrell, however, who had no mind for any discomfort that might be avoided, made a few dexterous advances, Cliffe's brow relaxed, and they were soon in conversation. The position of the ministry naturally presented itself as a topic. Two or three retirements were impending, the whole position was precarious.
Jealousy, suffering, the "hard cases" of passion why men are selfish and exacting, why women mislead and torment the ugly waste and crudity of death it was among these great themes they found themselves. Death above all it was to a thought of death that Cliffe's harsh face owed its chief spell perhaps in Kitty's eyes.
Cliffe's slight smile, as he followed her into the large drawing-room, died under his mustache. He divined at once the relation between the two, or thought he did. As for Mary, she caught her last sight of Cliffe, standing bareheaded on the steps of the embassy, his lean distinction, his ugly good looks marking him out from the men around him.
But Elizabeth knew that his appearance in the conversation invariably meant a fait accompli of some sort. "I read him some of Mr. Cliffe's letters," said Mary, modestly. "He thought them most remarkable." "Even when he mocks at missionaries?" "Oh! but he doesn't mock at them any more. He has learned wisdom I assure you he has!"
Lord Grosville believed that some rumors as to Cliffe's private character had entered into the decisive defeat in a constituency largely Nonconformist which had befallen that gentleman at the polls. Poor Lady Tranmore! He saw her anxieties in her face, and was truly sorry for her. At the same time, inveterate gossip that he was, he regarded her with a kind of hunger.
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