she particularly wished. It was very sad. Lady Glencora is very
delicate,--very delicate, indeed. We, who have the privilege of being
near her, ought always to remember that."

"I don't think she is at all delicate."

"Oh! don't you? I'm afraid that's your mistake, Miss Vavasor."

"I believe she has very good health, which is the greatest blessing
in the world. By delicate I suppose you mean weak and infirm."

"Oh, dear, no,--not in the least,--not infirm certainly! I should be
very sorry to be supposed to have said that Lady Glencora is infirm.
What I mean is, not robust, Miss Vavasor. Her general organization,
if you understand me, is exquisitely delicate. One can see that, I
think, in every glance of her eye."

Alice was going to protest that she had never seen it at all, when Mr
Palliser entered the room along with Mrs Marsham.

The two gentlemen shook hands, and then Mr Palliser turned to Alice.
She perceived at once by his face that she was unwelcome, and wished
herself away from his house. It might be all very well for Lady
Glencora to fight with Mrs Marsham,--and with her husband, too, in
regard to the Marsham persecution,--but there could be no reason why
she should do so. He just touched her hand, barely closing his thumb
upon her fingers, and asked her how she was. Then he turned away from
her side of the fire, and began talking to Mrs Marsham on the other.
There was that in his face and in his manner which was positively
offensive to her. He made no allusion to his former acquaintance with
her,--spoke no word about Matching, no word about his wife, as he
would naturally have done to his wife's friend. Alice felt the blood
mount into her face, and regretted greatly that she had ever come
among these people. Had she not long since made up her mind that she
would avoid her great relations, and did not all this prove that it
would have been well for her to have clung to that resolution? What
was Lady Glencora to her that she should submit herself to be treated
as though she were a poor companion,--a dependent, who received a
salary for her attendance,--an indigent cousin, hanging on to the
bounty of her rich connection? Alice was proud to a fault. She had
nursed her pride till it was very faulty. All her troubles and
sorrows in life had come from an overfed craving for independence.
Why, then, should she submit to be treated with open want of courtesy
by any man; but, of all men, why should she submit to i