Lord Chiltern did exactly as he said he would do. He wrote to his father as he passed through Carlisle, and at once went on to his hunting at Willingford. But his letter was very stiff and ungainly, and it may be doubted whether Miss Effingham was not wrong in refusing the offer which he had made to her as to the dictation of it. He began his letter, “My Lord,” and did not much improve the style as he went on with it. The reader may as well see the whole letter —

“ Railway Hotel, Carlisle, December 27, 186 —

“ MY LORD,

“I am now on my way from Loughlinter to London, and write this letter to you in compliance with a promise made by me to my sister and to Miss Effingham. I have asked Violet to be my wife, and she has accepted me, and they think that you will be pleased to hear that this has been done. I shall be, of course, obliged, if you will instruct Mr Edwards to let me know what you would propose to do in regard to settlements. Laura thinks that you will wish to see both Violet and myself at Saulsby. For myself, I can only say that, should you desire me to come, I will do so on receiving your assurance that I shall be treated neither with fatted calves nor with reproaches. I am not aware that I have deserved either.

“I am, my lord, yours affect.,

“ CHILTERN

“P.S. — My address will be “The Bull, Willingford.””

That last word, in which he half-declared himself to be joined in affectionate relations to his father, caused him a world of trouble. But he could find no term for expressing, without a circumlocution which was disagreeable to him, exactly that position of feeling towards his father which really belonged to him. He would have written “yours with affection,” or yours with deadly enmity, or “yours with respect,” or yours with most profound indifference,” exactly in accordance with the state of his father’s mind, if he had only known what was that state. He was afraid of going beyond his father in any offer of reconciliation, and was firmly fixed in his resolution that he would never be either repentant or submissive in regard to the past. If his father had wishes for the future, he would comply with them if he could do so without unreasonable inconvenience, but he would not give way a single point as to things done and gone. If his father should choose to make any reference to them, his father must prepare for battle.

The Earl was of course disgusted by the pertinacious obstinacy of his son’s letter, and for an hour or two swore to himself that he would not answer it. But it is natural that the father should yearn for the son, while the son’s feeling for the father is of a very much weaker nature. Here, at any rate, was that engagement made which he had ever desired. And his son had made a step, though it was so very unsatisfactory a step, towards reconciliation. When the old man read the letter a second time, he skipped that reference to fatted calves which had been so peculiarly distasteful to him, and before the evening had passed he had answered his son as follows:

“ Saulsby, December 29, 186 —

“ MY DEAR CHILTERN,

“I have received your letter, and am truly delighted to hear that dear Violet has accepted you as her husband. Her fortune will be very material to you, but she herself is better than any fortune. You have long known my opinion of her. I shall be proud to welcome her as a daughter to my house.

“I shall of course write to her immediately, and will endeavour to settle some early day for her coming here. When I have done so, I will write to you again, and can only say that I will endeavour to make Saulsby comfortable to you.

“Your affectionate father,

“ BRENTFORD

“Richards, the groom, is still here. You had perhaps better write to him direct about your horses.”

By the middle of February arrangements had all been made, and Violet met her lover at his father’s house. She in the meantime had been with her aunt, and had undergone a good deal of mild unceasing persecution. “My dear Violet,” said her aunt to her on her arrival at Baddingham, speaking with a solemnity that ought to have been terrible to the young lady, “I do not know what to say to you.”

“Say “how d’you do?” aunt,” said Violet.

“I mean about this engagement,” said Lady Baldock, with an increase of awe-inspiring severity in her voice.

“Say nothing about it at all, if you don’t like it,” said Violet.

“How can I say nothing about it? How can I be silent? Or how am I to congratulate you?”

“The least said, perhaps, the soonest mended,” and Violet smiled as she spoke.

“That is very well, and if I had no duty to perform, I would be silent. But, Violet, you have been left in my charge. If I see you shipwrecked in life, I shall ever tell myself that the fault has been partly mine.”

“Nay, aunt, that will be quite unnecessary. I will always admit that you did everything in your power to — to — to — make me run straight, as the sporting men say.”

“Sporting men! Oh, Violet.”

“And you know, aunt, I still hope that I shall be found to have kept on the right side of the posts. You will find that poor Lord Chiltern is not so black as he is painted.”

“But why take anybody that is black at all?”

“I like a little shade in the picture, aunt.”

“Look at Lord Fawn.”

“I have looked at him.”

“A young nobleman beginning a career of useful official life, that will end in — there is no knowing what it may end in.”

“I daresay not — but it never could have begun or ended in my being Lady Fawn.”

“And Mr Appledom!”

“Poor Mr Appledom. I do like Mr Appledom. But, you see, aunt, I like Lord Chiltern so much better. A young woman will go by her feelings.”

“And yet you refused him a dozen times.”

“I never counted the times, aunt; but not quite so many as that.”

The same thing was repeated over and over again during the month that Miss Effingham remained at Baddingham, but Lady Baldock had no power of interfering, and Violet bore her persecution bravely. Her future husband was generally spoken of as “that violent young man,” and hints were thrown out as to the personal injuries to which his wife might be possibly subjected. But the threatened bride only laughed, and spoke of these coming dangers as part of the general lot of married women. “I daresay, if the truth were known, my uncle Baldock did not always keep his temper,” she once said. Now, the truth was, as Violet well knew, that “my uncle Baldock” had been dumb as a sheep before the shearers in the hands of his wife, and had never been known to do anything improper by those who had been most intimate with him even in his earlier days. “Your uncle Baldock, miss,” said the outraged aunt, “was a nobleman as different in his manner of life from Lord Chiltern as chalk from cheese.” “But then comes the question, which is the cheese?” said Violet. Lady Baldock would not argue the question any further, but stalked out of the room.

Lady Laura Kennedy met them at Saulsby, having had something of a battle with her husband before she left her home to do so. When she told him of her desire to assist at this reconciliation between her father and brother, he replied by pointing out that her first duty was at Loughlinter, and before the interview was ended had come to express an opinion that that duty was very much neglected. She in the meantime had declared that she would go to Saulsby, or that she would explain to her father that she was forbidden by her husband to do so. “And I also forbid any such communication,” said Mr Kennedy. In answer to which, Lady Laura told him that there were some marital commands which she should not consider it to be her duty to obey. When matters had come to this pass, it may be conceived that both Mr Kennedy and his wife were very unhappy. She had almost resolved that she would take steps to enable her to live apart from her husband; and he had begun to consider what course he would pursue if such steps were taken. The wife was subject to her husband by the laws both of God and man; and Mr Kennedy was one who thought much of such laws. In the meantime, Lady Laura carried her point and went to Saulsby, leaving her husband to go up to London and begin the session by himself.

Lady Laura and Violet were both at Saulsby before Lord Chiltern arrived, and many were the consultations which were held between them as to the best mode in which things might be arranged. Violet was of opinion that there had better be no arrangement, that Lord Chiltern should be allowed to come in and take his father’s hand, and sit down to dinner — and that so things should fall into their places. Lady Laura was rather in favour of some scene. But the interview had taken place before either of them were able to say a word. Lord Chiltern, on his arrival, had gone immediately to his father, taking the Earl very much by surprise, and had come off best in the encounter.

“My lord,” said he, walking up to his father with his hand out, “I am very glad to come back to Saulsby.” He had written to his sister to say that he would be at Saulsby on that day, but had named no hour. He now appeared between ten and eleven in the morning, and his father had as yet made no preparation for him — had arranged no appropriate words. He had walked in at the front door, and had asked for the Earl. The Earl was in his own morning-room — a gloomy room, full of dark books and darker furniture, and thither Lord Chiltern had at once gone. The two women still were sitting together over the fire in the breakfast-room, and knew nothing of his arrival.

“Oswald!” said his father, I hardly expected you so early.”

“I have come early. I came across country, and slept at Birmingham. I suppose Violet is here.”

“Yes, she is here — and Laura. They will be very glad to see you. So am I.” And the father took the son’s hand for the second time.

“Thank you, sir,” said Lord Chiltern, looking his father full in the face.

“I have been very much pleased by this engagement,” continued the Earl.

“What do you think I must be, then?” said the son, laughing. “I have been at it, you know, off and on, ever so many years; and have sometimes thought I was quite a fool not to get it out of my head. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. And now she talks as though it were she who had been in love with me all the time!”

“Perhaps she was,” said the father.

“I don’t believe it in the least. She may be a little so now.”

“I hope you mean that she always shall be so.”

“I shan’t be the worst husband in the world, I hope; and I am quite sure I shan’t be the best. I will go and see her now. I suppose I shall find her somewhere in the house. I thought it best to see you first.”

“Stop half a moment, Oswald,” said the Earl. And then Lord Brentford did make something of a shambling speech, in which he expressed a hope that they two might for the future live together on friendly terms, forgetting the past. He ought to have been prepared for the occasion, and the speech was poor and shambling. But I think that it was more useful than it might have been, had it been uttered roundly and with that paternal and almost majestic effect which he would have achieved had he been thoroughly prepared. But the roundness and the majesty would have gone against the grain with his son, and there would have been a danger of some outbreak. As it was, Lord Chiltern smiled, and muttered some word about things being “all right,” and then made his way out of the room. “That’s a great deal better than I had hoped,” he said to himself; “and it has all come from my going in without being announced.” But there was still a fear upon him that his father even yet might prepare a speech, and speak it, to the great peril of their mutual comfort.

His meeting with Violet was of course pleasant enough. Now that she had succ............