The Palliser Novels by Anthony Trollope Read Free Book Online

previous to this last moment he had said nothing on that subject on which he was so intent.
    “Well, Alice,” he said, when the last hour had come, “and about that question of home affairs?”
    “Let us finish off the foreign affairs first.”
    “We have finished them; haven’t we?”
    “Finished them! why we haven’t started yet.”
    “No; you haven’t started. But we’ve had the discussion. Is there any reason why you’d rather not have this thing settled.”
    “No; no special reason.”
    “Then why not let it be fixed? Do you fear coming to me as my wife?”
    “No.”
    “I cannot think that you repent your goodness to me.”
    “No; I don’t repent it; — what you call my goodness? I love you too entirely for that.”
    “My darling!” And now he passed his arm round her waist as they stood near the empty fireplace. “And if you love me — “
    “I do love you.”
    “Then why should you not wish to come to me?”
    “I do wish it. I think I wish it.”
    “But, Alice, you must have wished it altogether when you consented to be my wife.”
    “A person may wish for a thing altogether, and yet not wish for it instantly.”
    “Instantly! Come; I have not been hard on you. This is still June. Will you say the middle of September, and we shall still be in time for warm pleasant days among the lakes? Is that asking for too much?”
    “It is not asking for anything.”
    “Nay, but it is, love. Grant it, and I will swear that you have granted me everything.”
    She was silent, having things to say but not knowing in what words to put them. Now that he was with her she could not say the things which she had told herself that she would utter to him. She could not bring herself to hint to him that his views of life were so unlike her own, that there could be no chance of happiness between them, unless each could strive to lean somewhat towards the other. No man could be more gracious in word and manner than John Grey; no man more chivalrous in his carriage towards a woman; but he always spoke and acted as though there could be no question that his manner of life was to be adopted, without a word or thought of doubting, by his wife. When two came together, why should not each yield something, and each claim something? This she had meant to say to him on this day; but now that he was with her she could not say it.
    “John,” she said at last, “do not press me about this till I return.”
    “But then you will say the time is short. It would be short then.”
    “I cannot answer you now; — indeed, I cannot. That is I cannot answer in the affirmative. It is such a solemn thing.”
    “Will it ever be less solemn, dearest?”
    “Never, I hope never.”
    He did not press her further then, but kissed her and bade her farewell.
     
CHAPTER IV
George Vavasor, the Wild Man
 
    It will no doubt be understood that George Vavasor did not roam about in the woods unshorn, or wear leathern trappings and sandals, like Robinson Crusoe, instead of coats and trousers. His wildness was of another kind. Indeed, I don’t know that he was in truth at all wild, though Lady Macleod had called him so, and Alice had assented to her use of the word.
    George Vavasor had lived in London since he was twenty, and now, at the time of the beginning of my story, he was a year or two over thirty. He was and ever had been the heir to his grandfather’s estate; but that estate was small, and when George first came to London his father was a strong man of forty, with as much promise of life in him as his son had. A profession had therefore been absolutely necessary to him; and he had, at his uncle John’s instance, been placed in the office of a parliamentary land agent. With this parliamentary land agent he had quarrelled to the knife, but not before he had by his talents made himself so useful that he had before him the prospects of a lucrative partnership in the business. George Vavasor had many faults, but idleness — absolute