“O! I’m vastly obliged to you for your condescension.”
“You deserve no consideration, Phil, upon my soul. If you choose to adopt that tone with me, I’ve done with the matter.”
He was vexed and bothered enough for himself, truth to tell. The visit of the Duke—if, as he hardly doubted, it had actually taken place—was a subject for confounding thought. He cared nothing for Kit’s part in the business, real or pretended; his little cousin’s attitude towards it was what concerned him. Did that point to artlessness or design? He had believed, or chosen to believe, that, in a certain eventuality, he himself had a prescriptive title to “the most favoured treatment.” He had always, in full confidence, proceeded upon that supposition; and now, if he had been deceiving himself throughout? All his elaborate hoax would prove itself waste trouble, and he might just as well have spared himself the complication. He had been already, as it was, beginning to question the practical wisdom of the imposture to which he had subscribed, and to wonder if more direct means might not have served his purpose better. The reflection, occurring to him now with aggravated force, inclined him to regard this difficult and exasperating husband as the source of all his worry. He was moved to throw prudence to the winds, and take his unswerving course for the object he had in view. And Chesterfield’s own temper lent itself immediately to that provocation.
“Consideration! Matter!” said the nobleman, with the loftiest acidity. “I’ll ask you to bear in mind, George, that the part I requested of you was sympathy, and not dictation.”
Hamilton had remained seated all this time; he rose now, in a white fume of anger.
“O, was that it?” he said in answer. “Well, I’ll tell you that I have never yet felt sympathy with a cuckold, or counted the man who couldn’t command his wife’s fidelity as deserving less than he got. ’Tis just a question of resourcefulness, in more ways than one; and the woman who has reason to like her bonds doesn’t strain at them. Now you may go hang for me; and, as to your damned Duke——”
“Temper, temper!” interrupted the other, quite pale and furious. “Upon my soul, your manner might almost proclaim you his disappointed rival.”
The two stood glaring at one another.
“Do you say that deliberately?” asked Hamilton at length.
“What if I do?” retorted the other.