o settle the matter
within her own bosom,--having no other alternative.

CHAPTER LXII

The Letter That Was Sent to Brighton

Monday morning came and Madame Goesler had as yet written no answer
to the Duke of Omnium. Had not Lady Glencora gone to Park Lane on
the Sunday afternoon, I think the letter would have been written on
that day; but, whatever may have been the effect of Lady Glencora's
visit, it so far disturbed Madame Goesler as to keep her from her
writing-table. There was yet another night for thought, and then the
letter should be written on the Monday morning.

When Lady Glencora left Madame Goesler she went at once to the Duke's
house. It was her custom to see her husband's uncle on a Sunday, and
she would most frequently find him just at this hour,--before he went
up-stairs to dress for dinner. She usually took her boy with her, but
on this occasion she went alone. She had tried what she could do with
Madame Goesler, and she found that she had failed. She must now make
her attempt upon the Duke. But the Duke, perhaps anticipating some
attack of the kind, had fled. "Where is his Grace, Barker?" said Lady
Glencora to the porter. "We do not know, your ladyship. His Grace
went away yesterday evening with nobody but Lapoule." Lapoule was
the Duke's French valet. Lady Glencora could only return home and
consider in her own mind what batteries might yet be brought to
bear upon the Duke, towards stopping the marriage, even after the
engagement should have been made,--if it were to be made. Lady
Glencora felt that such batteries might still be brought up as would
not improbably have an effect on a proud, weak old man. If all other
resources failed, royalty in some of its branches might be induced
to make a request, and every august relation in the peerage should
interfere. The Duke no doubt might persevere and marry whom he
pleased,--if he were strong enough. But it requires much personal
strength,--that standing alone against the well-armed batteries of
all one's friends. Lady Glencora had once tried such a battle on
her own behalf, and had failed. She had wished to be imprudent when
she was young; but her friends had been too strong for her. She had
been reduced, and kept in order, and made to run in a groove,--and
was now, when she sat looking at her little boy with his bold face,
almost inclined to think that the world was right, and that grooves
were best. But if she had been controlled when she wa