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Updated: August 27, 2024
When Paula had been three or four days wedded, it occurred to her to examine her husband's countenance. They were at breakfast at Biarritz, and certain words that fell from Mr. Dalmaine, as he sat sideways from the table with his newspaper, led her eyes to rest for a few moments on his face. He was smiling, but with depressed brows.
The two walked towards one of the platforms, and it was plain that Dalmaine was delivering himself in an undertone of a gentlemanly reproof. He stood disconcerted. What might this mean? Was it merely an urbane way of reminding him that he had neglected certain civilities demanded by the social code? Dalmaine would doubtless be punctilious; he was a rising politician.
His eyes often passed from one to the other of the faces opposite him, with unmarked observation; frequently he fixed his gaze on the remoter hills in brief musing. Mr. Newthorpe had come down to the water to meet them; he had a newspaper in his hand. 'Your friend Dalmaine is eloquent on education, he said, with a humorous twitching of the eyebrows. 'Yes, he knows his House, Egremont replied.
When I reached London again, knowing nothing of what had happened whilst I was away, I met Dalmaine and his wife at Charing Cross station. They turned away, and refused to speak to me. When I got home, I found what it meant. Grail told me plainly what the general opinion was. 'You saw Grail? 'Of course. You think, naturally, that I should have hidden my face from him.
Dalmaine thus for three years, prior to which he had been employed as a clerk at the works in Lambeth. Mr. Dalmaine first had his attention drawn to Tasker eight or nine years before, by an instance of singular shrewdness in the latter's discharge of his duties. From that day he kept his eye on him took Opportunities of advancing him.
Paula laughed. 'You think papa would believe me if I told him I reverenced working men, the free and independent electors? 'There again: That's a phrase you must not use; I say it absolutely; you must forget the phrase. Yes, your father must believe you. 'Do you think he believes you? Mr. Dalmaine drew himself up. 'I don't know what you mean, Paula. 'And I don't know what you mean.
'I see old mother Dalmaine dresses her as much like the Doncaster belle as she possibly can. 'Yes, and spoils her, said Lord Squib; 'but old mother Dalmaine, with all her fuss, was ever a bad cook, and overdid everything. 'Young Dalmaine, they say, observed Lord Darrell, 'is in a sort of a scrape. 'Ah! what? 'Oh! some confusion at head-quarters.
Just now she was longing for affection and sympathy, and Paula was the only girl friend she had. But Paula would only speak of Mr. Dalmaine and, absurdest thing, of politics. Annabel retired into herself. She was glad to reach at length the quiet house by the sea, glad to be near Mrs. Ormonde. The circumstances of Annabel's early life had worked happily with her inherited disposition.
It isn't idealists who do the work of the world, but the hard-headed, practical, selfish men. A big employer of labour 'll do more good in a day, just because he sees profit 'll come of it, than all the mooning philanthropists in a hundred years. Nothing solid has ever been gained in this world that wasn't pursued out of self-interest. Look at Dalmaine.
Dalmaine is spoken of with extreme respect; his measure is one of those which 'largely testify to the practical wisdom and beneficence of the spirit which prevails in British legislation. This kind of thing it is, says the writer, which keeps England in such freedom from the social disturbance so rife on the continent of Europe, and from which America has so much to fear.
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