"Certainly not," said the Duke, with a scowl that was terrible even to his wife. "I wished to speak to you, but I wished to speak to you alone."
"I beg a thousand pardons," said Mrs. Finn, preparing to go.
"Don't stir, Marie," said the Duchess; "he is going to be cross."
"If Mrs. Finn will allow me, with every feeling of the most perfect respect and sincerest regard, to ask her to leave me with you for a few minutes, I shall be obliged. And if, with her usual hearty kindness, she will pardon my abruptness—" Then he could not go on, his emotion being too great; but he put out his hand, and taking hers raised it to his lips and kissed it. The moment had become too solemn for any further hesitation as to the lady's going. The Duchess for a moment was struck dumb, and Mrs. Finn, of course, left the room.
"In the name of heaven, Plantagenet, what is the matter?"
"Who is Major Pountney?"
"Who is Major Pountney! How on earth should I know? He is—Major Pountney. He is about everywhere."
"Do not let him be asked into any house of mine again. But that is a trifle."
"Anything about Major Pountney must, I should think, be a trifle. Have tidings come that the heavens are going to fall? Nothing short of that could make you so solemn."
"In the first place, Glencora, let me ask you not to speak to me again about the seat for Silverbridge. I am not at present prepared to argue the matter with you, but I have resolved that I will know nothing about the election. As soon as the seat is vacant, if it should be vacated, I shall take care that my determination be known in Silverbridge."