The Small House at Allington
but perhaps she's in love too."
"Speak for yourself, Mrs. Lupex," said Amelia.
"There's no harm in saying that, is there? I'm sure, if you ain't,
you're very hard-hearted; for, if ever there was a true lover, I
believe you've got one of your own. My!--if there's not Lupex's step
on the stair! What can bring him home at this hour? If he's been
drinking, he'll come home as cross as anything." Then Mr. Lupex
entered the room, and the pleasantness of the party was destroyed.
It may be said that neither Mrs. Cradell nor Mrs. Eames would have
placed their sons in Burton Crescent if they had known the dangers
into which the young men would fall. Each, it must be acknowledged,
was imprudent; but each clearly saw the imprudence of the other. Not
a week before this, Cradell had seriously warned his friend against
the arts of Miss Roper. "By George, Johnny, you'll get yourself
entangled with that girl."
"One always has to go through that sort of thing," said Johnny.
"Yes; but those who go through too much of it never get out again.
Where would you be if she got a written promise of marriage from
you?"
Poor Johnny did not answer this immediately, for in very truth Amelia
Roper had such a document in her possession.
"Where should I be?" said he. "Among the breaches of promise, I
suppose."
"Either that, or else among the victims of matrimony. My belief of
you is, that if you gave such a promise, you'd carry it out."
"Perhaps I should," said Johnny; "but I don't know. It's a matter of
doubt what a man ought to do in such a case."
"But there's been nothing of that kind yet?"
"Oh dear, no!"
"If I was you, Johnny, I'd keep away from her. It's very good fun, of
course, that sort of thing; but it is so uncommon dangerous! Where
would you be now with such a girl as that for your wife?"
Such had been the caution given by Cradell to his friend. And now,
just as he was starting for Allington, Eames returned the compliment.
They had gone together to the Great Western station at Paddington,
and Johnny tendered his advice as they were walking together up and
down the platform.
"I say, Caudle, old boy, you'll find yourself in trouble with that
Mrs. Lupex, if you don't take care of yourself."
"But I shall take care of myself. There's nothing so safe as a little
nonsense with a married woman. Of course, it means nothing, you know,
between her and me."
"I don't suppose it does mean anything. But she's always talking
about Lupex being jealous; and if he was to cut up rough, you
wouldn't find it pleasant."
Cradell, however, seemed to think that there was no danger. His
little affair with Mrs. Lupex was quite platonic and safe. As for
doing any real harm, his principles, as he assured his friend, were
too high. Mrs. Lupex was a woman of talent, whom no one seemed to
understand, and, therefore, he had taken some pleasure in studying
her character. It was merely a study of character, and nothing more.
Then the friends parted, and Eames was carried away by the night
mail-train down to Guestwick.
How his mother was up to receive him at four o'clock in the morning,
how her maternal heart was rejoicing at seeing the improvement in
his gait, and the manliness of appearance imparted to him by his
whiskers, I need not describe at length. Many of the attributes of
a hobbledehoy had fallen from him, and even Lily Dale might now
probably acknowledge that he was no longer a boy. All which might be
regarded as good, if only in putting off childish things he had taken
up things which were better than childish.
On the very first day of his arrival he made his way over to
Allington. He did not walk on this occasion as he had used to do in
the old happy days. He had an idea that it might not be well for him
to go into Mrs. Dale's drawing-room with the dust of the road on his
boots, and the heat of the day on his brow. So he borrowed a horse
and rode over, taking some pride in a pair of spurs which he had
bought in Piccadilly, and in his kid gloves, which were brought out
new for the occasion. Alas, alas! I fear that those two years in
London have not improved John Eames; and yet I have to acknowledge
that John Eames is one of the heroes of my story.
On entering Mrs. Dale's drawing-room he found Mrs. Dale and her
eldest daughter. Lily at the moment was not there, and as he shook
hands with the other two, of course, he asked for her.
"She is only in the garden," said Bell. "She will be here directly."
"She has walked across to the Great House with Mr. Crosbie," said
Mrs. Dale; "but she is not going to remain. She will be so glad to
see you, John! We all expected you to-day."
"Did you?" said Johnny, whose heart had been plunged into cold water
at the mention of Mr. Crosbie's name. He had been thinking of Lilian
Dale ever since his friend had left him on the railway platform; and,
as I beg to assure all ladies who may read my tale, the truth of his
love for Lily had moulted no feather through that unholy liaison
between him and Miss Roper. I fear that I shall be disbelieved in
this; but it was so. His heart was and ever had been true to Lilian,
although he had allowed himself to be talked into declarations of
affection by such a creature as Amelia Roper. He had been thinking
of his meeting with Lily all the night and throughout the morning,
and now he heard that she was walking alone about the gardens with
a strange gentleman. That Mr. Crosbie was very grand and very
fashionable he had heard, but he knew no more of him. Why should Mr.
Crosbie be allowed to walk with Lily Dale? And why should Mrs. Dale
mention the circumstance as though it were quite a thing of course?
Such mystery as there was in this was solved very quickly.
"I'm sure Lily won't object to my telling such a dear friend as you
what has happened," said Mrs. Dale. "She is engaged to be married to
Mr. Crosbie."
The water into which Johnny's heart had been plunged now closed over
his head and left him speechless. Lily Dale was engaged to be married
to Mr. Crosbie! He knew that he should have spoken when he heard the
tidings. He knew that the moments of silence as they passed by told
his secret to the two women before him,--that secret which it would
now behove him to conceal from all the world. But yet he could not
speak.
"We are all very well pleased at the match," said Mrs. Dale, wishing
to spare him.
"Nothing can be nicer than Mr. Crosbie," said Bell. "We have often
talked about you, and he will be so happy to know you."
"He won't know much about me," said Johnny; and even in speaking
these few senseless words--words which he uttered because it was
necessary that he should say something--the tone of his voice was
altered. He would have given the world to have been master of himself
at this moment, but he felt that he was utterly vanquished.
"There is Lily coming across the lawn," said Mrs. Dale.
"Then I'd better go," said Eames. "Don't say anything about it; pray
don't." And then, without waiting for another word, he escaped out of
the drawing-room.
CHAPTER VI.
BEAUTIFUL DAYS.
I am well aware that I have not as yet given any description of Bell
and Lilian Dale, and equally well aware that the longer the doing
so is postponed the greater the difficulty becomes. I wish it could
be understood without any description that they were two pretty,
fair-haired girls, of whom Bell was the tallest and the prettiest,
whereas Lily was almost as pretty as her sister, and perhaps was more
attractive.
They were fair-haired girls, very like each other, of whom I have
before my mind's eye a distinct portrait, which I fear I shall not be
able to draw in any such manner as will make it distinct to others.
They were something below the usual height, being slight and slender
in all their proportions. Lily was the shorter of the two, but the
difference was so trifling that it was hardly remembered unless the
two were together. And when I said that Bell was the prettier, I
should, perhaps, have spoken more justly had I simply declared that
her features were more regular than her sister's. The two girls
were very fair, so that the soft tint of colour which relieved the
whiteness of their complexion was rather acknowledged than distinctly
seen. It was there, telling its own tale of health, as its absence
would have told a tale of present or coming sickness; and yet nobody
could ever talk about the colour in their cheeks. The hair of the two
girls was so alike in hue and texture, that no one, not even their
mother, could say that there was a difference. It was not flaxen
hair, and yet it was very light. Nor did it approach to auburn;
and yet there ran through it a golden tint that gave it a distinct
brightness of its own. But with Bell it was more plentiful than
with Lily, and therefore Lily would always talk of her own scanty
locks, and tell how beautiful were those belonging to her sister.
Nevertheless Lily's head was quite as lovely as her sister's; for its
form was perfect, and the simple braids in which they both wore their
hair did not require any great exuberance in quantity. Their eyes
were brightly blue; but Bell's were long, and soft, and tender,
often hardly daring to raise themselves to your face; while those
of Lily were rounder, but brighter, and seldom kept by any want of
courage from fixing themselves where they pleased. And Lily's face
was perhaps less oval in its form--less perfectly oval--than her
sister's. The shape of the forehead was, I think, the same, but with
Bell the chin was something more slender and delicate. But Bell's
chin was unmarked, whereas on her sister's there was a dimple which
amply compensated for any other deficiency in its beauty. Bell's
teeth were more even than her sister's; but then she showed her teeth
more frequently. Her lips were thinner and, as I cannot but think,
less expressive. Her nose was decidedly more regular in its beauty,
for Lily's nose was somewhat broader than it should have been. It
may, therefore, be understood that Bell would be considered the
beauty by the family.
But there was, perhaps, more in the general impression made by
these girls, and in the whole tone of their appearance, than in the
absolute loveliness of their features or the grace of their figures.
There was about them a dignity of demeanour devoid of all stiffness
or pride, and a maidenly modesty which gave itself no airs. In them
was always apparent that sense of security which women should receive
from an unconscious dependence on their own mingled purity and
weakness. These two girls were never afraid of men,--never looked as
though they were so afraid. And I may say that they had little cause
for that kind of fear to which I allude. It might be the lot of
either of them to be ill-used by a man, but it was hardly possible
that either of them should ever be insulted by one. Lily, as may,
perhaps, have been already seen, could be full of play, but in her
play she never so carried herself that any one could forget what was
due to her.
And now Lily Dale was engaged to be married, and the days of her
playfulness were over. It sounds sad, this sentence against her, but
I fear that it must be regarded as true. And when I think that it
is true,--when I see that the sportiveness and kitten-like gambols
of girlhood should be over, and generally are over, when a girl
has given her troth, it becomes a matter of regret to me that the
feminine world should be in such a hurry after matrimony. I have,
however, no remedy to offer for the evil; and, indeed, am aware that
the evil, if there be an evil, is not well expressed in the words I
have used. The hurry is not for matrimony, but for love. Then, the
love once attained, matrimony seizes it for its own, and the evil is
accomplished.