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Updated: May 24, 2025
She was disposed to be mild, but she could not endure to have her two duennas thus brought upon her together on the first day of her arrival in London. And Mrs Marsham would be worse than Mr Bott. Mr Bott would be engaged with Mr Palliser during the greater part of the evening. "I thought," said she, "of asking my cousin, Alice Vavasor, to spend the evening with me."
He found a kind of angry comfort in the remembrance of her drooping looks. They were no credit to Marsham, anyway. Meanwhile Diana walked home, lingering by the way in two or three cottages. She was shyly beginning to make friends with the people.
Lady Niton's face kindled. "Let us be Radicals, my dear," she said, briskly, "but not hypocrites. Garden-parties are invaluable for people you can't ask into the house. By-the-way, wasn't it you, Oliver, who scolded me last night, because I said somebody wasn't 'in Society'?" "You said it of a particular hero of mine," laughed Marsham. "I naturally pitied Society." "What is Society?
"Oh, come! come back at once!" Marsham was already in the carriage. The horse galloped forward. Diana and Lady Lucy ran toward the house. "In the garden," said Diana, breathlessly; and, taking Lady Lucy's hand, she guided her. Beside the dying man stood Sir James Chide, Muriel Colwood, and the old butler. Sir James looked up, started at the sight of Lady Lucy, and went to meet her.
Straight, honorable, unselfish fellows Lankester knew scores of them, rich and poor, clever and slow, who could and did pass the tests of life without flinching; who could produce in any society as politicians or green-grocers an impression of uprightness and power, an effect of character, that Marsham, for all his ability, had never produced, or, in the long run, and as he came to be known, had never sustained.
For it appeared there was to be no engagement, although all Brookshire had expected it. Instead of it, came the announcement of the tragic truth, the girl's hurried departure, and the passionate feeling on her behalf of people like the Roughsedges, or her quondam critic, the Vicar. Marsham, thereupon, had become conscious of a wind of unpopularity blowing through his constituency.
He gathered up the reins, the grooms who had been holding the horses' heads clambered into their places, a touch of the whip, and the coach was off, almost at a gallop, pursued by a shower of missiles. After a mile at full speed Marsham pulled in the horses, and handed the reins to the groom. As he did so a low groan escaped him. "You are hurt!" exclaimed McEwart. "Where did they hit you?"
Her mock and smiling submission, as she stood, slender and lovely, amid the shadows of the hall, seemed to Hugh Roughsedge, as he looked back upon her, the prettiest piece of acting. Then she turned, and he knew that she was going back to Marsham. At the same moment he saw Mrs. Colwood's little figure disappearing up the main stairway. Frowning and silent, he followed his mother out of the house.
And the emergence of this possible love-affair for the moment, ardent and deep as were the man's affections and sympathies, toward this Marsham household, it did but increase his sense of moral fatigue. If the flutter in the blood and the long companionship of equal love if these were the only things of real value in life how had his been worth living?
The leading local supporter of the scheme wrote with apologies to ask Marsham what he was prepared to subscribe. It was early days to make the inquiry, but in confidence he might state that he was afraid local support for the scheme would mean more talk than money. Marsham pondered the letter gloomily.
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