"Why not? What relation is there between us that I should skulk in concealment? Rather, why should I do any favour to you, Mr. Benbow? Will you explain that to me, as some sort of basis? Then we shall understand each other better."
He hung down his head—he could answer nothing. She looked at him with an unconcealed triumph.
"Listen!" she said. "The chief dream of my life has been that I and mine should come back to our own sphere. We wish to be what we were long before—ladies again. It is my right, and my talents shall give me back my place. Now, Mr. Benbow, you seem uneasy lest I should disturb this newfound happiness of your son. I can do it, as you know—wreck it all, in one second, by raising my finger. Come, I will strike a bargain with you."
"You will?" he said, eagerly.
"Yes. I shall forbear, and shall engage to forbear, if you, on your side, engage to do all you can to bring me onward. Lend me all your influence to place me in the best circles—to have me, in short, received as a lady. No feints—no half-measures or pretences—excuses to them; but an honest, genuine, bonâ fide bringing forward of the actress. If you agree to this, your son shall not see or hear of me for a long, long time. Refuse, and I shall act as I may be advised."
Mr. Benbow gazed at her with a silent, wild expression.
"What do you mean? Do you require that I should give you introduction—"
"Nothing of the kind," she said, scornfully. "I shall speak intelligibly, as you wish it. In fact, it is best for us all to do so. Well, what I demand and claim is this. No patronage—no gracious condescending: 'This is a young person of great merit,' by which you only add to your own complacency. I want nothing of that sort—no compliment—nothing but real, substantial identification of yourself—wholly and heartily—with my interests. I have sisters. They must be brought forward too—heartily, and with genuineness. Agree to this, and your son shall never hear of me, and his new-born happiness be never disturbed by me. Of course, I cannot control events, nor him; and if he thrusts himself upon me, I cannot help it. It is no fault of mine. On his own head be it. Will you enter into this arrangement solemnly and seriously? If not—well, things can go on as they are."
"How can I do this?" he said. "Do you mean that you want me to bring you forward as any other lady?"
"Now, understand. Yes—to take me into your house for a few days—not that I want to be there, but for the prestige of the thing; to get me to other houses—the Duke's, for instance, who is to have a great gathering shortly."
"I can do nothing of the kind. This is unreasonable. You ask too much."
"Very well. Do as you please. Then the next movement must come from you."
"But it is so strange all this. Why should you force a thing of this sort on me, unless for some hatred or malice?"
"Perhaps so. Then I tell you this. Think it over till to-morrow morning. But I am determined on that ultimatum of mine. You must take the actress up as a lady; make her one of your friends—the friend of your friend. Above all, you must see me at the Duke's treated with honour and distinction, like the first lady among them all."
"But Charles will be there," he said, despairingly, "and his wife. How can they meet you?"
"Then let them not meet me. But all that is your concern, not mine. Make up your mind by the morning. If you do not get me to the Duke's—well, perhaps I shall go there unasked."
She arose, and put out her hand; he turned away, and took the road to his hotel. There was no mistaking all this. It seemed to him there was some sort of net drawing round him.
IN 1860, Little Bribington was a small borough in the West of England. We—that is to say, the burgesses thereof—had the privilege of returning one member to Parliament; and, in the year I have mentioned, our honourable representative having levanted with a considerable sum of money—he was a joint-stock bank director—our seat became vacant.
Two candidates immediately appeared: one a man of strict honour and probity, but limited means, named Alexander Freebody;
