The Duke's Children

Duchess

. Lady Mary, the only daughter, was the youngest of the family, and she also had been with them on the Continent. They remained the full year abroad, travelling with a large accompaniment of tutors, lady's-maids, couriers, and sometimes friends. I do not know that the Duchess or the Duke had enjoyed it much; but the young people had seen something of foreign courts and much of foreign scenery, and had perhaps perfected their French. The Duke had gone to work at his travels with a full determination to create for himself occupation out of a new kind of life. He had studied Dante, and had striven to arouse himself to ecstatic joy amidst the loveliness of the Italian lakes. But through it all he had been aware that he had failed. The Duchess had made no such resolution,-had hardly, perhaps, made any attempt; b

nd in the House of Commons, and the fact that a dissolution of Parliament was expected served to prevent any prolonged sojourn abroad. Lady Mary Palliser was at that time nineteen, and her entrance into the world was to be her mother's great

n more complete. It was not only that his heart was torn to pieces, but that he did not know how to look out into the world. It was as though a man should be suddenly called upon to live without hands or even arms. He was helpless, and knew himself to be helpless. Hitherto he had never specially acknowledged to himself that his wife was necessary to him as a compo

or himself a single intimate friend-except that one who had now passed away from him. To her he had been able to say what he thought, even though she would occasionally ridicule him while he was declaring his feelings. But there had been no other human soul to whom he could open himself. There were one or two whom he

res and all their disappointments, they had ever gone to their mother. She had been conversant with everything about them, from the boys' bills and the girl's gloves to the innermost turn in the heart and the disposition of each. She had known with the utmost accuracy the nature of the scrapes into which Lord Silverbridge had precipitated himself, and had known also how probable it wa

ance or other juvenile misconduct. But she was beautiful and young. How was he to bring her out into the world? How was he to decide whom she should or

male and female guardians with an iron hand. Such repression had been needed, and had been perhaps salutary, but it had not left behind it much affection. And then her nearest relatives were not sympathetic with the Duke. He could obtain no assistance in the care of his girl from that source. Nor could he even do

ngularly bound together has been told elsewhere. But there had been close bonds,-so close that when the Duchess on their return from the Continent had passed through London on her way to Matching, ill at the time and very comfortless, it had been almost a thing of cour

f the funeral a dozen relatives came, Pallisers and M'Closkies, who on such an occasion were bound to show themselves, as members of the family. With them and his two sons the Duke walked across to the

entered, but there was no book open before him, and no pen ready to his hand. He was dressed of course in black. That, indeed, was usual with him, but now the tailor by his funereal art had added some deeper dye of blackness to his appearance. When he rose and turned to her she thought that he had at once become an old man. His hair was grey in parts, and he had never accustomed himself to use that ski

e up to him. "Silverbridge," he said, "tell

, Duke. My presence here ca

have no excuse for asking you to remain. While there was yet a hope for her-" Then he stopped, unab

tay, Duke, if I coul

expect you to

d say that I would stay were it not that

mean by tha

with her at such a ti

er loved as she loved you-none, non

umstances caused her mother to be so closely i

r thoug

she should have with her, as soon as possible, someone,-perhaps someone of her

re? Whom do

produced between me and my lost friend. While she was with us no such feeling would have sufficed to drive me from her. She had chosen for herself, and if others disapproved her choice that was nothing

ng of any guidanc

d be somebody with her. It was almost the last thought that occupied her mother's mind. I could no

wish

ably, were sudden

then?" asked the fa

hat I should answe

e three children, and Mrs. Finn. How far the young people among themselves had been able to throw off something of the gloom of death need not here be asked; but in the presence of their father they

inutely into circumstances. If Lady Mary would come to her, she would abstain from having other company in the house till her young friend's spirits should have somewhat recovered themselves. Nothing could be more kind, or proposed in a sweeter fashion. There had, however, been present to the Duke's mind as he read it a feeling that a proposition to a bereaved husband to relieve him of the society of an only daughter, was not one which would usually be made to a fath

Mrs. Finn refolded the latter letter. "My cousin's wife i

s an excellent

one whom I esteem mo

sh her to go

ed that he would desire to send his girl away from him? But yet he felt that it would be better that she should go. It was his present purpose

ought to go som

ught of it," s

uke, almost angrily, "that she ought to

of some friend

here that I could possibl

er good. I was thinking, Duke, that perha

come," he said

it was for her sake, s

put to her in that way. Perhaps Mary had better go to Lady Cantrip. Perhaps I had better be alone