But when the
marriage was spoken of, or written of, as "an alliance," then he
would say a hard word or two about dukes and lords in general. On
such an occasion as this he was happy and at his ease.

So much could not be said for his wife, with whom the Duke attempted
to place himself on terms of family equality. But in doing this he
failed to hide the attempt even from her, and she broke down under
it. Had he simply walked into the room with her as he would have done
on any other occasion, and then remarked that the frost was keen or
the thaw disagreeable, it would have been better for her. But when he
told her that he hoped she would often make herself at home in that
house, and looked, as he said it, as though he were asking her to
take a place among the goddesses of Olympus, she was troubled as to
her answer. "Oh, my Lord Duke," she said, "when I think of Isabel
living here and being called by such a name, it almost upsets me."

Isabel had all her father's courage, but she was more sensitive; and
though she would have borne her honours well, was oppressed by the
feeling that the weight was too much for her mother. She could not
keep her ear from listening to her mother's words, or her eye from
watching her mother's motions. She was prepared to carry her mother
everywhere. "As other girls have to be taken with their belongings,
so must I, if I be taken at all." This she had said plainly enough.
There should be no division between her and her mother. But still,
knowing that her mother was not quite at ease, she was hardly at ease
herself.

Silverbridge came in at the last moment, and of course occupied a
chair next to Isabel. As the House was sitting, it was natural that
he should come up in a flurry. "I left Phineas," he said, "pounding
away in his old style at Sir Timothy. By-the-bye, Isabel, you must
come down some day and hear Sir Timothy badgered. I must be back
again about ten. Well, Gerald, how are they all at Lazarus?" He made
an effort to be free and easy, but even he soon found that it was an
effort.

Gerald had come up from Oxford for the occasion that he might make
acquaintance with the Boncassens. He had taken Isabel in to dinner,
but had been turned out of his place when his brother came in. He
had been a little confused by the first impression made upon him by
Mrs. Boncassen, and had involuntarily watched his father. "Silver is
going to have an odd sort of a mother-in-law," he said afterwards
to M