, and she would become--what she
did not dare to name even to herself. She declared that so it must
be. She knew that she would go with Burgo, should he ever come to her
with the means of going at his and her instant command. But should
she bring herself to let Alice know that such a letter had been
conveyed to her, Burgo would never have such power.
I remember the story of a case of abduction in which a man was tried
for his life, and was acquitted, because the lady had acquiesced in
the carrying away while it was in progress. She had, as she herself
declared, armed herself with a sure and certain charm or talisman
against such dangers, which she kept suspended round her neck; but
whilst she was in the post-chaise she opened the window and threw
the charm from her, no longer desiring, as the learned counsel for
the defence efficiently alleged, to be kept under the bonds of such
protection. Lady Glencora's state of mind was, in its nature, nearly
the same as that of the lady in the post-chaise. Whether or no she
would use her charm, she had not yet decided, but the power of doing
so was still hers.
Alice came, and the greeting between the cousins was very
affectionate. Lady Glencora received her as though they had been
playmates from early childhood; and Alice, though such impulsive love
was not natural to her as to the other, could not bring herself to
be cold to one who was so warm to her. Indeed, had she not promised
her love in that meeting at Matching Priory in which her cousin
had told her of all her wretchedness? "I will love you!" Alice had
said; and though there was much in Lady Glencora that she could not
approve,--much even that she could not bring herself to like,--still
she would not allow her heart to contradict her words.
They sat so long over the fire in the drawing-room that at last they
agreed that the driving should be abandoned.
"What's the use of it?" said Lady Glencora. "There's nothing to see,
and the wind is as cold as charity. We are much more comfortable
here; are we not?" Alice quite acquiesced in this, having no great
desire to be driven through the parks in the gloom of a February
afternoon.
"If I had Dandy and Flirt up here, there would be some fun in it; but
Mr Palliser doesn't wish me to drive in London."
"I suppose it would be dangerous?"
"Not in the least. I don't think it's that he minds; but he has an
idea that it looks fast."
"So it does. If I were a man, I'm sure
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