Part 31 (1/2)

”I mean no offence, my dear.”

”Of course you don't But, to speak truth, I think I have rather taken a fancy to him. There is just enough of him, but not too much. I don't mean materially,--in regard to his inches; but as to his mental belongings. I hate a stupid man who can't talk to me, and I hate a clever man who talks me down. I don't like a man who is too lazy to make any effort to s.h.i.+ne; but I particularly dislike the man who is always striving for effect. I abominate a humble man, but yet I love to perceive that a man acknowledges the superiority of my s.e.x, and youth, and all that kind of thing.”

”You want to be flattered without plain flattery.”

”Of course I do. A man who would tell me that I am pretty, unless he is over seventy, ought to be kicked out of the room. But a man who can't show me that he thinks me so without saying a word about it, is a lout. Now in all those matters, your friend, Mr. Finn, seems to know what he is about. In other words, he makes himself pleasant, and, therefore, one is glad to see him.”

”I suppose you do not mean to fall in love with him?”

”Not that I know of, my dear. But when I do, I'll be sure to give you notice.”

I fear that there was more of earnestness in Lady Laura's last question than Miss Effingham had supposed. She had declared to herself over and over again that she had never been in love with Phineas Finn. She had acknowledged to herself, before Mr. Kennedy had asked her hand in marriage, that there had been danger,--that she could have learned to love the man if such love would not have been ruinous to her,--that the romance of such a pa.s.sion would have been pleasant to her. She had gone farther than this, and had said to herself that she would have given way to that romance, and would have been ready to accept such love if offered to her, had she not put it out of her own power to marry a poor man by her generosity to her brother. Then she had thrust the thing aside, and had clearly understood,--she thought that she had clearly understood,--that life for her must be a matter of business. Was it not the case with nine out of every ten among mankind, with nine hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand, that life must be a matter of business and not of romance? Of course she could not marry Mr. Finn, knowing, as she did, that neither of them had a s.h.i.+lling. Of all men in the world she esteemed Mr. Kennedy the most, and when these thoughts were pa.s.sing through her mind, she was well aware that he would ask her to be his wife. Had she not resolved that she would accept the offer, she would not have gone to Loughlinter. Having put aside all romance as unfitted to her life, she could, she thought, do her duty as Mr.

Kennedy's wife. She would teach herself to love him. Nay,--she had taught herself to love him. She was at any rate so sure of her own heart that she would never give her husband cause to rue the confidence he placed in her. And yet there was something sore within her when she thought that Phineas Finn was fond of Violet Effingham.

It was Lady Baldock's second evening, and Phineas came to the house at about eleven o'clock. At this time he had encountered a second and a third interview with Mr. Clarkson, and had already failed in obtaining any word of comfort from Laurence Fitzgibbon about the bill. It was clear enough now that Laurence felt that they were both made safe by their privilege, and that Mr. Clarkson should be treated as you treat the organ-grinders. They are a nuisance and must be endured. But the nuisance is not so great but what you can live in comfort,--if only you are not too sore as to the annoyance. ”My dear fellow,” Laurence had said to him, ”I have had Clarkson almost living in my rooms. He used to drink nearly a pint of sherry a day for me.

All I looked to was that I didn't live there at the same time. If you wish it, I'll send in the sherry.” This was very bad, and Phineas tried to quarrel with his friend; but he found that it was difficult to quarrel with Laurence Fitzgibbon.

But though on this side Phineas was very miserable, on another side he had obtained great comfort. Mr. Monk and he were better friends than ever. ”As to what Turnbull says about me in the House,” Mr.

Monk had said, laughing; ”he and I understand each other perfectly.

I should like to see you on your legs, but it is just as well, perhaps, that you have deferred it. We shall have the real question on immediately after Easter, and then you'll have plenty of opportunities.” Phineas had explained how he had attempted, how he had failed, and how he had suffered;--and Mr. Monk had been generous in his sympathy. ”I know all about it,” said he, ”and have gone through it all myself. The more respect you feel for the House, the more satisfaction you will have in addressing it when you have mastered this difficulty.”

The first person who spoke to Phineas at Lady Baldock's was Miss Fitzgibbon, Laurence's sister. Aspasia Fitzgibbon was a warm woman as regarded money, and as she was moreover a most discreet spinster, she was made welcome by Lady Baldock, in spite of the well-known iniquities of her male relatives. ”Mr. Finn,” said she, ”how d'ye do?

I want to say a word to ye. Just come here into the corner.” Phineas, not knowing how to escape, did retreat into the corner with Miss Fitzgibbon. ”Tell me now, Mr. Finn;--have ye been lending money to Laurence?”

”No; I have lent him no money,” said Phineas, much astonished by the question.

”Don't. That's my advice to ye. Don't. On any other matter Laurence is the best creature in the world,--but he's bad to lend money to.

You ain't in any hobble with him, then?”

”Well;--nothing to speak of. What makes you ask?”

”Then you are in a hobble? Dear, dear! I never saw such a man as Laurence;--never. Good-bye. I wouldn't do it again, if I were you;--that's all.” Then Miss Fitzgibbon came out of the corner and made her way down-stairs.

Phineas immediately afterwards came across Miss Effingham. ”I did not know,” said she, ”that you and the divine Aspasia were such close allies.”

”We are the dearest friends in the world, but she has taken my breath away now.”

”May a body be told how she has done that?” Violet asked.

”Well, no; I'm afraid not, even though the body be Miss Effingham. It was a profound secret;--really a secret concerning a third person, and she began about it just as though she were speaking about the weather!”

”How charming! I do so like her. You haven't heard, have you, that Mr. Ratler proposed to her the other day?”

”No!”

”But he did;--at least, so she tells everybody. She said she'd take him if he would promise to get her brother's salary doubled.”

”Did she tell you?”