h more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such
as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the
proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should
for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen
Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget,
if it were possible.

Mr Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten
or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could
he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching
Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the
remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within
two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she
afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to
rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct
of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that
was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than
had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards
expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought
that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said
once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he
thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this
had very nearly hit the truth. Mr Palliser had resolved, from that
hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens,
that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he
suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had
been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the
confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was
manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her
from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had
been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done.
It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found
himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from
him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that
such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible
even than that.

So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching,
allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He
himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him,
but doubly ted