February was far advanced and the new Reform Bill had already been brought forward, before Lady Laura Kennedy came up to town. Phineas had of course seen Mr Kennedy and had heard from him tidings of his wife. She was at Saulsby with Lady Baldock and Miss Boreham and Violet Effingham, but was to be in London soon. Mr Kennedy, as it appeared, did not quite know when he was to expect his wife; and Phineas thought that he could perceive from the tone of the husband’s voice that something was amiss. He could not however ask any questions excepting such as referred to the expected arrival. Was Miss Effingham to come to London with Lady Laura? Mr Kennedy believed that Miss Effingham would be up before Easter, but he did not know whether she would come with his wife. “Women”, he said, are so fond of mystery that one can never quite know what they intend to do.” He corrected himself at once however, perceiving that he had seemed to say something against his wife, and explained that his general accusation against the sex was not intended to apply to Lady Laura. This, however, he did so awkwardly as to strengthen the feeling with Phineas that something assuredly was wrong. “Miss Effingham”, said Mr Kennedy, “never seems to know her own mind.” “I suppose she is like other beautiful girls who are petted on all sides,” said Phineas. “As for her beauty, I don’t think much of it,” said Mr Kennedy; “and as for petting, I do not understand it in reference to grown persons. Children may be petted, and dogs — though that too is bad; but what you call petting for grown persons is I think frivolous and almost indecent.” Phineas could not help thinking of Lord Chiltern’s opinion that it would have been wise to have left Mr Kennedy in the hands of the garrotters.

The debate on the second reading of the bill was to be commenced on the 1st of March, and two days before that Lady Laura arrived in Grosvenor Place. Phineas got a note from her in three words to say that she was at home and would see him if he called on Sunday afternoon. The Sunday to which she alluded was the last day of February. Phineas was now more certain than ever that something was wrong. Had there been nothing wrong between Lady Laura and her husband, she would not have rebelled against him by asking visitors to the house on a Sunday. He had nothing to do with that, however, and of course he did as he was desired. He called on the Sunday, and found Mrs Bonteen sitting with Lady Laura. “I am just in time for the debate,” said Lady Laura, when the first greeting was over.

“You don’t mean to say that you intend to sit it out,” said Mrs Bonteen.

“Every word of it — unless I lose my seat. What else is there to be done at present?”

“But the place they give us is so unpleasant,“said Mrs Bonteen.

“There are worse places even than the Ladies’ Gallery,” said Lady Laura. “And perhaps it is as well to make oneself used to inconveniences of all kinds. You will speak, Mr Finn?”

“I intend to do so.”

“Of course you will. The great speeches will be Mr Gresham’s, Mr Daubeny’s, and Mr Monk’s.”

“Mr Palliser intends to be very strong,” said Mrs Bonteen.

“A man cannot be strong or not as he likes it,” said Lady Laura. “Mr Palliser I believe to be a most useful man, but he never can become an orator. He is of the same class as Mr Kennedy — only of course higher in the class.”

“We all look for a great speech from Mr Kennedy,” said Mrs Bonteen.

“I have not the slightest idea whether he will open his lips,” said Lady Laura. Immediately after that Mrs Bonteen took her leave. “I hate that woman like poison,” continued Lady Laura. “She is always playing a game, and it is such a small game that she plays! And she contributes so little to society. She is not witty nor well-informed — not even sufficiently ignorant or ridiculous to be a laughing-stock. One gets nothing from her, and yet she has made her footing good in the world.”

“I thought she was a friend of yours.”

“You did not think so! You could not have thought so! How can you bring such an accusation against me, knowing me as you do? But never mind Mrs Bonteen now. On what day shall you speak?”

“On Tuesday if I can.”

“I suppose you can arrange it?”

“I shall endeavour to do so, as far as any arrangement can go.”

“We shall carry the second reading,” said Lady Laura.

“Yes,” said Phineas; I think we shall; but by the votes of men who are determined so to pull the bill to pieces in committee, that its own parents will not know it. I doubt whether Mr Mildmay will have the temper to stand it.”

“They tell me that Mr Mildmay will abandon the custody of the bill to Mr Gresham after his first speech.”

“I don’t know that Mr Gresham’s temper is more enduring than Mr Mildmay’s,” said Phineas.

“Well — we shall see. My own impression is that nothing would save the country so effectually at the present moment as the removal of Mr Turnbull to a higher and a better sphere.”

“Let us say the House of Lords,” said Phineas.

“God forbid!” said Lady Laura.

Phineas sat there for half an hour and then got up to go, having spoken no word on any other subject than that of politics. He longed to ask after Violet. He longed to make some inquiry respecting Lord Chiltern. And, to tell the truth, he felt painfully curious to hear Lady Laura say something about her own self. He could not but remember what had been said between them up over the waterfall, and how he had been warned not to return to Loughlinter. And then again, did Lady Laura know anything of what had passed between him and Violet? “Where is your brother?” he said, as he rose from his chair.

“Oswald is in London. He was here not an hour before you came in.”

“Where is he staying?”

“At Moroni’s. He goes down on Tuesday, I think. He is to see his father tomorrow morning.”

“By agreement?”

“Yes — by agreement. There is a new trouble — about money that they think to be due to me. But I cannot tell you all now. There have been some words between Mr Kennedy and papa. But I won’t talk about it. You would find Oswald at Moroni’s at any hour before eleven tomorrow.”

“Did he say anything about me?” asked Phineas.

“We mentioned your name certainly.”

“I do not ask from vanity, but I want to know whether he is angry with me.”

“Angry with you! Not in the least. I’ll tell you just what he said. He said he should not wish to live even with you, but that he would sooner try it with you than with any man he ever knew.”

“He had got a letter from me?”

“He did not say so — but he did not say he had not.”

“I will see him tomorrow if I can.” And then Phineas prepared to go.

“One word, Mr Finn,” said Lady Laura, hardly looking him in the face and yet making an effort to do so. “I wish you to forget what I said to you at Loughlinter.”

“It shall be as though it were forgotten,” said Phineas.

“Let it be absolutely forgotten. In such a case a man is bound to do all that a woman asks him, and no man has a truer spirit of chivalry than yourself. That is all. Look in when you can. I will not ask you to dine here as yet, because we are so frightfully dull. Do your best on Tuesday, and then let us see you on Wednesday. Goodbye.”

Phineas as he walked across the park towards his club made up his mind that he would forget the scene by the waterfall. He had never quite known what it had meant, and he would wipe it away from his mind altogether. He acknowledged to himself that chivalry did demand of him that he should never allow himself to think of Lady Laura’s rash words to him. That she was not happy with her husband was very clear to him — but that was altogether another affair. She might be unhappy with her husband without indulging any guilty love. He had never thought it possible that she could be happy living with such a husband as Mr Kennedy. All that, however, was now past remedy, and she must simply endure the mode of life which she had prepared for herself. There were other men and women in London tied together for better and worse, in reference to whose union their friends knew that there would be no better — that it must be all worse. Lady Laura must bear it, as it was borne by many another married woman.

On the Monday morning Phineas called at Moroni’s Hotel at ten o’clock, but in spite of Lady Laura’s assurance to the contrary, he found that Lord Chiltern was out. He had felt some palpitation at the heart as he made his inquiry, knowing well the fiery nature of the man he expected to see. It might be that there would be some actual personal conflict between him and this half-mad lord before he got back again into the street. What Lady Laura had said about her brother did not in the estimation of Phineas make this at all the less probable. The half-mad lord was so singular in his ways that it might well be that he should speak handsomely of a rival behind his back and yet take him by the ............