trafford park was in shropshire. llwddythlw, the welsh seat of the duke of merioneth, was in the next county;—one of the seats that is, for the duke had mansions in many counties. here at this period of the year it suited lord llwddythlw to live,—not for any special gratification of his own, but because north wales was supposed to require his presence. he looked to the quarter sessions, to the roads, to the lunatic asylum, and to the conservative interests generally of that part of great britain. that he should spend christmas at llwddythlw was a thing of course. in january he went into durham; february to somersetshire. in this way he parcelled himself out about the kingdom, remaining in london of course from the first to the last of the parliamentary session. it was, we may say emphatically, a most useful life, but in which there was no recreation and very little excitement. it was not wonderful that he should be unable to find time to get married. as he could not get as far as castle hautboy,—partly, perhaps, because he did not especially like the omnium-gatherum mode of living which prevailed there,—it had been arranged that he should give up two days early in december to meet the lady of his love under her aunt's roof at trafford park. lady amaldina and he were both to arrive there on wednesday, december 3rd, and remain till the tuesday morning. there had not been any special term arranged as to the young lady's visit, as her time was not of much consequence; but it had been explained minutely that the lover must reach denbigh by the 5.45 train, so as to be able to visit certain institutions in the town before a public dinner which was to be held in the conservative interest at seven. lord llwddythlw had comfort in thinking that he could utilize his two days' idleness at trafford in composing and studying the speech on the present state of affairs, which, though to be uttered at denbigh, would, no doubt, appear in all the london newspapers on the following morning.

as it was to be altogether a lover's meeting, no company was to be invited. mr. greenwood would, of course, be there. to make up something of a dinner-party, the mayor of shrewsbury was asked for the first evening, with his wife. the mayor was a strong conservative politician, and lord llwddythlw would therefore be glad to meet him. for the next day's dinner the clergyman of the parish, with his wife and daughter, were secured. the chief drawback to these festive arrangements consisted in the fact that both lady amaldina and her lover arrived on the day of the bitter quarrel between the marquis and his wife.

perhaps, however, the coming of guests is the best relief which can be afforded for the misery of such domestic feuds. after such words as had been spoken lord and lady trafford could hardly have sat down comfortably to dinner, with no one between them but mr. greenwood. in such case there could not have been much conversation. but now the marquis could come bustling into the drawing-room to welcome his wife's niece before dinner without any reference to the discomforts of the morning. almost at the same moment lord llwddythlw made his appearance, having arrived at the latest possible moment, and having dressed himself in ten minutes. as there was no one present but the family, lady amaldina kissed her future husband,—as she might have kissed her grandfather,—and his lordship received the salutation as any stern, undemonstrative grandfather might have done. then mr. greenwood entered, with the mayor and his wife, and the party was complete. the marquis took lady amaldina out to dinner and her lover sat next to her. the mayor and his wife were on the other side of the table, and mr. greenwood was between them. the soup had not been handed round before lord llwddythlw was deep in a question as to the comparative merits of the shropshire and welsh lunatic asylums. from that moment till the time at which the gentlemen went to the ladies in the drawing-room the conversation was altogether of a practical nature. as soon as the ladies had left the table roads and asylums gave way to general politics,—as to which the marquis and mr. greenwood allowed the conservatives to have pretty much their own way. in the drawing-room conversation became rather heavy, till, at a few minutes after ten, the mayor, observing that he had a drive before him, retired for the night. the marchioness with lady amaldina followed quickly; and within five minutes the welsh lord, having muttered something as to the writing of letters, was within the seclusion of his own bedroom. not a word of love had been spoken, but lady amaldina was satisfied. on her toilet-table she found a little parcel addressed to her by his lordship containing a locket with her monogram, "a. l.," in diamonds. the hour of midnight was long passed before his lordship had reduced to words the first half of those promises of constitutional safety which he intended to make to the conservatives of denbigh. not much was seen of lord llwddythlw after breakfast on the following morning, so determined was he to do justice to the noble cause which he had in hand. after lunch a little expedition was arranged for the two lovers, and the busy politician allowed himself to be sent out for a short drive with no other companion than his future bride. had he been quite intimate with her he would have given her the manuscript of his speech, and occupied himself by saying it to her as a lesson which he had learnt. as he could not do this he recapitulated to her all his engagements, as though excusing his own slowness as to matrimony, and declared that what with the property and what with parliament, he never knew whether he was standing on his head or his heels. but when he paused he had done nothing towards naming a certain day, so that lady amaldina found herself obliged to take the matter into her own hands. "when then do you think it will be?" she asked. he put his hand up and rubbed his head under his hat as though the subject were very distressing to him. "i would not for worlds, you know, think that i was in your way," she said, with just a tone of reproach in her voice.

he was in truth sincerely attached to her;—much more so than it was in the compass of her nature to be to him. if he could have had her for his wife without any trouble of bridal preparations, or of subsequent honeymooning, he would most willingly have begun from this moment. it was incumbent on him to be married, and he had quite made up his mind that this was the sort of wife that he required. but now he was sadly put about by that tone of reproach. "i wish to goodness," he said, "that i had been born a younger brother, or just anybody else than i am."

"why on earth should you wish that?"

"because i am so bothered. of course, you don't understand it."

"i do understand," said amaldina;—"but there must, you know, be some end to all that. i suppose the parliament and the lunatic asylums will go on just the same always."

"no doubt,—no doubt."

"if so, there is no reason why any day should ever be fixed. people are beginning to think that it must be off, because it has been talked of so long."

"i hope it will never be off."

"i know the prince said the other day that he had expected—. but it does not signify what he expected." lord llwddythlw had also heard the story of what the prince had said that he expected, and he scratched his head again with vexation. it had been reported that the prince had declared that he had hoped to be asked to be godfather long ago. lady amaldina had probably heard some other version of the story. "what i mean is that everybody was surprised that it should be so long postponed, but that they now begin to think it is abandoned altogether."

"shall we say june next?" said the ecstatic lover. lady amaldina thought that june would do very well. "but there will be the town's education improvement bill," said his lordship, again scratching his head.

"i thought all the towns had been educated long ago." he looked at her with feelings of a double sorrow;—sorrow that she should have known so little, sorrow that she should be treated so badly. "i think we will put it off altogether," she said angrily.

"no, no, no," he exclaimed. "would august do? i certainly have promised to be at inverness to open the new docks."

"that's nonsense," she said. "what can the docks want with you to open them?"

"my father, you know," he said, "has a very great interest in the city. i think i'll get david to do it." lord david was his brother, also a member of parliament, and a busy man, as were all the powell family; but one who liked a little recreation among the moors when the fatigue of the house of commons were over.

"of course he could do it," said lady amaldina. "he got himself married ten years ago."

"i'll ask him, but he'll be very angry. he always says that he oughtn't to be made to do an elder brother's work."

"then i may tell mamma?" his lordship again rubbed his head, but did it this time in a manner that was conceived to signify assent. the lady pressed his arm gently, and the visit to trafford, as far as she was concerned, was supposed to have been a success. she gave him another little squeeze as they got out of the carriage, and he went away sadly to learn the rest of his speech, thinking how sweet it might be "to do as others use; play with the tangles of ne?ra's hair, or sport with amaryllis in the shade."

but there was a worse interruption for lord llwddythlw than this which he had now undergone. at about five, when he was making the peroration of his speech quite secure in his memory, a message came to him from the marchioness, saying that she would be much obliged to him if he would give her five minutes in her own room. perhaps he would be kind enough to drink a cup of tea with her. this message was brought by her ladyship's own maid, and could be regarded only as a command. but lord llwddythlw wanted no tea, cared not at all for lady kingsbury, and was very anxious as to his speech. he almost cursed the fidgety fretfulness of women as he slipped the manuscript into his letter-case, and followed the girl along the passages.

"this is so kind of you," she said. he gave himself the usual rub of vexation as he bowed his head, but said nothing. she saw the state of his mind, but was determined to persevere. though he was a man plain to look at, he was known to be the very pillar and support of his order. no man in england was so wedded to the conservative cause,—to that cause which depends for its success on the maintenance of those social institutions by which great britain has become the first among the nations. no one believed as did lord llwddythlw in keeping the different classes in their own places,—each place requiring honour, truth, and industry. the marchioness understood something of his character in that respect. who therefore would be so ready to see the bitterness of her own injuries, to sympathize with her as to the unfitness of that son and daughter who had no blood relationship to herself, to perceive how infinitely better it would be for the "order" that her own little lord frederic should be allowed to succeed and to assist in keeping the institutions of great britain in their proper position? she had become absolutely dead to the fact that by any allusion to the probability of such a succession she was expressing a wish for the untimely death of one for whose welfare she was bound to be solicitous. she had lost, by constant dwelling on the subject, her power of seeing how the idea would strike the feelings of another person. here was a man peculiarly blessed in the world, a man at the very top of his "order," one who would be closely connected with herself, and on whom at some future time she might be able to lean as on a strong staff. therefore she determined to trust her sorrows into his ears.

"won't you have a cup of tea?"

"i never take any at this time of the day."

"perhaps a cup of coffee?"

"nothing before dinner, thank you."

"you were not at castle hautboy when hampstead and his sister were there?"

"i have not been at castle hautboy since the spring."

"did you not think it very odd that they should have been asked?"

"no, indeed! why odd?"

"you know the story;—do you not? as one about to be so nearly connected with the family, you ought to know it. lady frances has made a most unfortunate engagement, to a young man altogether beneath her,—to a post office clerk!"

"i did hear something of that."

"she behaved shockingly here, and was then taken away by her brother. i have been forced to divorce myself from her altogether." lord llwddythlw rubbed his head; but on this occasion lady kingsbury misinterpreted the cause of his vexation. he was troubled at being made to listen to this story. she conceived that he was disgusted by the wickedness of lady frances. "after that i think my sister was very wrong to have her at castle hautboy. no countenance ought to be shown to a young woman who can behave so abominably." he could only rub his head. "do you not think that such marriages are most injurious to the best interests of society?"

"i certainly think that young ladies should marry in their own rank."

"so much depends upon it,—does it not, lord llwddythlw? all the future blood of our head families! my own opinion is that nothing could be too severe for such conduct."

"will severity prevent it?"

"nothing else can. my own impression is that a father in such case should be allowed to confine his daughter. but then the marquis is so weak."

"the country would not stand it for a moment."

"so much the worse for the country," said her ladyship, holding up her hands. "but the brother is if possible worse than the sister."

"hampstead?"

"he utterly hates all idea of an aristocracy."

"that is absurd."

"most absurd," said the marchioness, feeling herself to be encouraged;—"most absurd, and abominable, and wicked. he is quite a revolutionist."

"not that, i think," said his lordship, who knew pretty well the nature of hampstead's political feelings.

"indeed he is. why, he encourages his sister! he would not mind her marrying a shoeblack if only he could debase his own family. think what i must feel, i, with my darling boys!"

"is not he kind to them?"

"i would prefer that he should never see them!"

"i don't see that at all," said the angry lord.

but she altogether misunderstood him. "when i think of what he is, and to what he will reduce the whole family should he live, i cannot bear to see him touch them. think of the blood of the traffords, of the blood of the mountressors, of the blood of the hautevilles;—think of your own blood, which is now to be connected with theirs, and that all this is to be defiled because this man chooses to bring about a disreputable, disgusting marriage with the expressed purpose of degrading us all."

"i beg your pardon, lady kingsbury; i shall be in no way degraded."

"think of us; think of my children."

"nor will they. it may be a misfortune, but will be no degradation. honour can only be impaired by that which is dishonourable. i wish that lady frances had given her heart elsewhere, but i feel sure that the name of her family is safe in her hands. as for hampstead, he is a young man for whose convictions i have no sympathy,—but i am sure that he is a gentleman."

"i would that he were dead," said lady kingsbury in her wrath.

"lady kingsbury!"

"i would that he were dead!"

"i can only say," said lord llwddythlw, rising from his chair, "that you have made your confidence most unfortunately. lord hampstead is a young nobleman whom i should be proud to call my friend. a man's politics are his own. his honour, his integrity, and even his conduct belong in a measure to his family. i do not think that his father, or his brothers, or, if i may say so, his stepmother, will ever have occasion to blush for anything that he may do." with this he bowed to the marchioness, and stalked out of the room with a grand manner, which those who saw him shuffling his feet in the house of commons would hardly have thought belonged to him.

the dinner on that day was very quiet, and lady kingsbury retired to bed earlier even than usual. the conversation at the dinner was dull, and turned mostly on church subjects. mr. greenwood endeavoured to be sprightly, and the parson, and the parson's wife, and the parson's daughter were uncomfortable. lord llwddythlw was almost dumb. lady amaldina, having settled the one matter of interest to her, was simply contented. on the next morning her lover took his departure by an earlier train than he had intended. it was, he said, necessary that he should look into some matters at denbigh before he made his speech. he contrived to get a compartment to himself, and there he practised his lesson till he felt that further practice would only confuse him.

"you had fanny at the castle the other day," lady kingsbury said the next morning to her niece.

"mamma thought it would be good-natured to ask them both."

"they did not deserve it. their conduct has been such that i am forced to say that they deserve nothing from my family. did she speak about this marriage of hers?"

"she did mention it."

"well!"

"oh, there was nothing. of course there was much more to say about mine. she was saying that she would be glad to be a bridesmaid."

"pray don't have her."

"why not, aunt?"

"i could not possibly be there if you did. i have been compelled to divorce her from my heart."

"poor fanny!"

"but she was not ashamed of what she is doing?"

"i should say not. she is not one of those that are ever ashamed."

"no, no. nothing would make her ashamed. all ideas of propriety she has banished from her,—as though they didn't exist. i expect to hear that she disregards marriage altogether."

"aunt clara!"

"what can you expect from doctrines such as those which she and her brother share? thank god, you have never been in the way of hearing of such things. it breaks my heart when i think of what my own darlings will be sure to hear some of these days,—should their half-brother and half-sister still be left alive. but, amaldina, pray do not have her for one of your bridesmaids." lady amaldina, remembering that her cousin was very handsome, and also that there might be a difficulty in making up the twenty titled virgins, gave her aunt no promise.