th a consciousness that in
his life everything might depend on it. Now he had, alas, allowed
it to get the better of him. No doubt he had been insulted;--but,
nevertheless, he had been wrong to speak of a horsewhip.

His one great object must now be to conciliate his father-in-law,
and he had certainly increased his difficulty in doing this by his
squabble down at Silverbridge. Of course the whole thing would be
reported in the London papers, and of course the story would be told
against him, as the respectabilities of the town had been opposed to
him. But he knew himself to be clever, and he still hoped that he
might overcome these difficulties. Then it occurred to him that
in doing this he must take care to have his wife entirely on his
side. He did not doubt her love; he did not in the least doubt her
rectitude;--but there was the lamentable fact that she thought
well of Arthur Fletcher. It might be that he had been a little too
imperious with his wife. It suited his disposition to be imperious
within his own household;--to be imperious out of it, if that were
possible;--but he was conscious of having had a fall at Silverbridge,
and he must for a while take in some sail.

He had telegraphed to her, acquainting her with his defeat, and
telling her to expect his return. "Oh, Ferdinand," she said, "I am so
unhappy about this. It has made me so wretched!"

"Better luck next time," he said with his sweetest smile. "It is
no good groaning over spilt milk. They haven't treated me really
well,--have they?"

"I suppose not,--though I do not quite understand it all."

He was burning to abuse Arthur Fletcher, but he abstained. He would
abstain at any rate for the present moment. "Dukes and duchesses are
no doubt very grand people," he said, "but it is a pity they should
not know how to behave honestly, as they expect others to behave to
them. The Duchess has thrown me over in the most infernal way. I
really can't understand it. When I think of it I am lost in wonder.
The truth, I suppose, is, that there has been some quarrel between
him and her."

"Who will get in?"

"Oh, Du Boung, no doubt." He did not think so, but he could not bring
himself to declare the success of his enemy to her. "The people
there know him. Your old friend is as much a stranger there as I am.
By-the-way, he and I had a little row in the place."

"A row, Ferdinand!"

"You needn't look like that, my pet. I haven't killed him. But he
came up to