"I
suppose you were asked?" said the Earl.
"Oh, yes, I was asked. Nothing can be kinder than they are."
"Kennedy told me that you were coming as a matter of course."
"I explained to him after that," said Phineas, "that I should not
return. I shall go over to Ireland. I have a deal of hard reading to
do, and I can get through it there without interruption."
He went up from Saulsby to London on that day, and found himself
quite alone in Mrs. Bunce's lodgings. I mean not only that he was
alone at his lodgings, but he was alone at his club, and alone in the
streets. July was not quite over, and yet all the birds of passage
had migrated. Mr. Mildmay, by his short session, had half ruined the
London tradesmen, and had changed the summer mode of life of all
those who account themselves to be anybody. Phineas, as he sat alone
in his room, felt himself to be nobody. He had told the Earl that
he was going to Ireland, and to Ireland he must go;--because he had
nothing else to do. He had been asked indeed to join one or two
parties in their autumn plans. Mr. Monk had wanted him to go to the
Pyrenees, and Lord Chiltern had suggested that he should join the
yacht;--but neither plan suited him. It would have suited him to be
at Loughlinter with Violet Effingham, but Loughlinter was a barred
house to him.
Pages:
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484