bt have
gone round,--round by any more distant route that might have been
necessary to avoid that eternal gateway into Switzerland. But she
could not say it. She was very averse to talking about herself and
her own affairs, even with her cousin. Of course Lady Glencora knew
the whole story of Mr John Grey and his rejection,--and knew much
also of that other story of Mr George Vavasor. And, of course, like
all Alice's friends, she hated George Vavasor, and was prepared to
receive Mr John Grey with open arms, if there were any possibility
that her cousin would open her arms to him also. But Alice was so
stubborn about her own affairs that her friend found it almost
impossible to speak of them. "It is not that you trouble me," Alice
once said, "but that you trouble yourself about that which is of no
use. It is all done and over; and though I know that I have behaved
badly,--very badly,--yet I believe that everything has been done for
the best. I am inclined to think that I can live alone, or perhaps
with my cousin Kate, more happily than I could with any husband."

"That is such nonsense."

"Perhaps so; but, at any rate, I mean to try. We Vavasors don't seem
to be good at marrying."

"You want some one to break your heart for you; that's what you
want," said Lady Glencora. In saying this she knew but little of
the state of her friend's heart, and perhaps was hardly capable
of understanding it. With all the fuss that Lady Glencora made to
herself,--with all the tears that she had shed about her lost lover,
and was so often shedding,--with all her continual thinking of the
matter, she had never loved Burgo Fitzgerald as Alice Vavasor had
loved Mr Grey. But her nature was altogether different to that of
Alice. Love with her had in it a gleam of poetry, a spice of fun,
a touch of self-devotion, something even of hero-worship; but with
it all there was a dash of devilry, and an aptitude almost for
wickedness. She knew Burgo Fitzgerald to be a scapegrace, and she
liked him the better on that account. She despised her husband
because he had no vices. She would have given everything she had
to Burgo,--pouring her wealth upon him with a total disregard of
herself, had she been allowed to do so. She would have forgiven him
sin after sin, and might perhaps have brought him round, at last, to
some life not absolutely reckless and wretched. But in all that she
might have done, there would have been no thoughtfulness,--no true
care