Then you'll break
out again!

GLADSTONE. But I am in favour of Welsh disestablishment, my dear--when it
comes.

MRS. G. Are you? Oh, yes; I forgot. You are in favour of so many things
you didn't used to be. Well, then, it will be something else. You will
always find an excuse; I shall never feel safe about you.

GLADSTONE (_in moved tone_). And if you could feel safe about me--
what then?

MRS. G. Oh, my dear, my dear, if I could! Always I've seen you neglecting
yourself--always putting aside your real interests--the things that you
most inwardly cared about, the things which you always meant to do when
you "had time." And here I have had to sit and wait for the time that
never came. Isn't that true?

GLADSTONE. There is an element of truth in it, my dear.

MRS. G. Well, twenty years have gone like that, and you've "had no time."
Oh, if you could only go back to the things you meant to do, twenty years
ago--and take them up, just where you left off--why, I should see you
looking--almost young again. For you've been looking tired lately, my
dear.

GLADSTONE. Tired? Yes: I hoped not to have shown it. But three weeks ago I
had to own to myself that I was beginning to feel tired. I went to
Crichton Browne (I didn't tell you, my love); he said there was nothing
the matter with me--except old age.

MRS. G. You should have come to me, my dear; I could have told you the
only thing to do.

GLADSTONE. Is it too late to tell me now?

MRS. G. Yes; because now you've done it, without my advice, William. Think
of that! For the first time!

GLADSTONE (_gravely surprised_). So you have been wishing it, have
you?

(_And the devoted wife, setting her face, and steadying her voice,
struggles on to give him what comfort she may, in the denial of her most
cherished hopes_.)

MRS. G. I've been waiting, waiting, waiting for it to come. But it was the
one thing I couldn't say, till you--till you thought of it yourself!

GLADSTONE. Did I do so? Or did others think of it for me? I'm not sure;
I'm not sure. My judgment of the situation differed from theirs. I
couldn't carry them with me. In my own Cabinet I was a defeated man. Only
Morley stood by me then.

(_Deep in the contemplation of his last political defeat, he is not
looking at her face; and that is as well. Her voice summons him almost
cheerfully from his reverie._)

MRS. G. William dear, can you come shopping with me to-morrow? Oh, no,
to-morrow you are going to Wi