their Primrose
League--but neither of them felt sure of her support.

To complete this slight sketch of the public position which Jenny was
making for herself, add Catsford highly interested in and flattered by
the prospect of its Institute, grateful to its powerful neighbour for
her benefits, perhaps hopefully expectant of more favors from the same
hand--proud, too, of old Nick Driver's handsome and clever daughter.
Catsford was both selfishly and sentimentally devoted to Jenny, and of
its devotion Mr. Bindlecombe was the enthusiastic and resonant herald.

Her private relations, though by no means free from difficulty, were at
the moment hardly less flattering to her sense of self-importance,
hardly less eloquent of her power. Fillingford was ready to offer her
all he had--his name, his rank, his stately Manor; Octon lingered at
Hatcham Ford, hoping against hope for her, unable to go because it was
her will that he should stay: at her bidding young Lacey was
transforming himself from a gay aspirant to her favor into the
submissive servant of her wishes, her warm and obedient friend. To
consider mere satellites like Cartmell and myself would be an
anti-climax; yet to us, too, crumbs of kindness fell from the rich man's
table and did their work of binding us closer to Jenny.

If she stayed as she was--the powerful, important Miss Driver--she was
very well. If she married Fillingford, she hardly strengthened her
position, but she decorated it highly, and widened the sphere of her
influence. If she chose to take the risks and openly accepted Octon, she
would indeed strain and impair the fabric she had built, but she could
hardly so injure it that time and skill would not build it again as good
as new. But she would make up her mind to none of the three. She liked
independence and feared its loss by marriage. She liked splendor and
rank, and therefore kept her hold on Fillingford's offer. Finally, she
must like Octon himself, must probably in her heart cling more to him
than she had admitted even to herself; there was no other reason for
dallying with that decision. Across the play of her politics ran this
strong, this curious, personal attraction; she could not let him go. For
the moment she tried for all these things--the independence, the
prestige of prospective splendor and rank, and--well, whatever she was
getting out of the presence of Octon at Hatcham Ford, across the road
from her offices at Ivydene.

It was a d