ad treated her well, and
she had no such feeling against Lady Glencora. As Duchess of Omnium
she would accept Lady Glencora as her dearest friend, if Lady
Glencora would admit it. But if it should be necessary that there
should be a little duel between them, as to which of them should take
the Duke in hand, the duel must of course be fought. In a matter so
important, one woman would of course expect no false sentiment from
another. She and Lady Glencora would understand each other;--and no
doubt, respect each other.

I have said that she would sit there resolving, or trying to resolve.
There is nothing in the world so difficult as that task of making
up one's mind. Who is there that has not longed that the power and
privilege of selection among alternatives should be taken away from
him in some important crisis of his life, and that his conduct should
be arranged for him, either this way or that, by some divine power
if it were possible,--by some patriarchal power in the absence of
divinity,--or by chance even, if nothing better than chance could be
found to do it? But no one dares to cast the die, and to go honestly
by the hazard. There must be the actual necessity of obeying the die,
before even the die can be of any use. As it was, when Madame Goesler
had sat there for an hour, till her legs were tired beneath her, she
had not resolved. It must be as her impulse should direct her when
the important moment came. There was not a soul on earth to whom she
could go for counsel, and when she asked herself for counsel, the
counsel would not come.

Two days afterwards the Duke called again. He would come generally on
a Thursday,--early, so that he might be there before other visitors;
and he had already quite learned that when he was there other
visitors would probably be refused admittance. How Lady Glencora had
made her way in, telling the servant that her uncle was there, he had
not understood. That visit had been made on the Thursday, but now he
came on the Saturday,--having, I regret to say, sent down some early
fruit from his own hot-houses,--or from Covent Garden,--with a little
note on the previous day. The grapes might have been pretty well, but
the note was injudicious. There were three lines about the grapes, as
to which there was some special history, the vine having been brought
from the garden of some villa in which some ill-used queen had lived
and died; and then there was a postscript in one line to say th