"Well, I can't help it. It is all fair and square as far as you are concerned, and if you like you may tell Miss Fitzgerald all about Stanley's position, so that he can't injure himself in her eyes. But to him you must say nothing without her consent—absolutely nothing."
"But this does not settle the matter of the engagement."
"You must manage that as best you can. Stanley can't really be engaged to you, because you are a married woman; and Belle can't be jealous if she knows the truth."
"But poor Mr. Stanley—consider his feelings—how needlessly you are making him suffer. He'll think that Miss Fitzgerald will never forgive him."
"And a good thing, too, for he's treated her very badly; he deserves to be made uncomfortable."
"What has he done?"
"Never mind. It's not a story for polite society. But he'll deserve all he gets, take my word for it. Now run along to the library and see if you can find our place in that old black letter book of the 'Lives of the Saints.' It'll be positively necessary for me to look up a reference or two before starting, to fortify myself for my journey;" and so saying he entered the house, feeling that in giving Belle the whip hand over the Secretary, he had more than compensated her for all she had done for him. But Lieutenant Kingsland was destined to find out that a whip—especially one with so long a lash—is apt to be a dangerous instrument in unqualified hands, and may even include the giver in its whistling sting.
Something over an hour later, the Lieutenant having been duly fortified, and dispatched on his journey, Lady Isabelle found herself closeted with her mother in the midst of a most trying scene. The Dowager had placed before her the manifest advantages of a union with the young diplomat, and her daughter, incautiously following her husband's short-sighted advice, had not only seemed to acquiesce in favour of the suit, but had even overdone the part, in the hopes of thereby inducing such amiability in her mother, as would lead her to be lenient concerning the final decision. The result of this was that Lady Isabelle had not, figuratively speaking, left herself a leg to stand on, and having admitted all her mother's arguments with a complaisance which could only argue their ultimate acceptance, came to a standstill the moment a definite answer was demanded. She agreed to all her mother said, but could not of herself say yes—or no.
Lady Port Arthur could only attribute her daughter's hesitation to one of two reasons, either maidenly modesty which prevented her acceding to her requests—"A most becoming motive, my dear"—the Dowager assured her—"and one that does you infinite credit, but which, in this instance, must give way to my superior wisdom, or else——." Here the Marchioness expressed herself with a heat and bitterness which it would be hardly fair to put on record for cool and sober reading; referring to an "inherited obstinacy," which she assured her daughter had come direct from the late Lord Port Arthur, and had led to a certain amount of friction in her marital life, and concluding by remarking that—"this (obstinacy) I have determined to nip in the bud, and crush out with a stern hand."
She therefore requested an immediate answer. Lady Isabelle, not being of a strong nature, nor daring to brave her mother's wrath by a direct refusal, and feeling the impossibility of assent, replied that she had nothing further to say. This equivocal position proved to be most disastrous—for it left her mother free to lay down the law, which she proceeded to do.