The Small House at Allington
you are going to marry her?"
"I mean to say nothing of the kind. I only mean to say that I am
going away from Burton Crescent."
"John Eames, I wonder what you think will come to you! Will you
answer me this; have I had a promise from you,--a distinct promise,
over and over again, or have I not?"
"I don't know about a distinct promise--"
"Well, well! I did think that you was a gentleman that would not go
back from your word. I did think that. I did think that you would
never put a young lady to the necessity of bringing forward her own
letters to prove that she is not expecting more than she has a right!
You don't know! And that, after all that has been between us! John
Eames!" And again it seemed to him as though she were about to fly.
"I tell you that I know I haven't behaved well. What more can I say?"
"What more can you say? Oh, John! to ask me such a question! If you
were a man you would know very well what more to say. But all you
private secretaries are given to deceit, as the sparks fly upwards.
However, I despise you,--I do, indeed. I despise you."
"If you despise me, we might as well shake hands and part at once.
I daresay that will be best. One doesn't like to be despised, of
course; but sometimes one can't help it." And then he put out his
hand to her.
"And is this to be the end of all?" she said, taking it.
"Well, yes; I suppose so. You say I'm despised."
"You shouldn't take up a poor girl in that way for a sharp word,--not
when she is suffering as I am made to suffer. If you only think of
it,--think what I have been expecting!" And now Amelia began to cry,
and to look as though she were going to fall into his arms.
"It is better to tell the truth," he said; "isn't it?"
"But it shouldn't be the truth."
"But it is the truth. I couldn't do it. I should ruin myself and you
too, and we should never be happy."
"I should be happy,--very happy indeed." At this moment the poor
girl's tears were unaffected, and her words were not artful. For a
minute or two her heart,--her actual heart,--was allowed to prevail.
"It cannot be, Amelia. Will you not say good-by?"
"Good-by," she said, leaning against him as she spoke.
"I do so hope you will be happy," he said. And then, putting his arm
round her waist, he kissed her; which he certainly ought not to have
done.
When the interview was over, he escaped out into the crescent, and
as he walked down through the squares,--Woburn Square, and Russell
Square, and Bedford Square,--towards the heart of London, he felt
himself elated almost to a state of triumph. He had got himself well
out of his difficulties, and now he would be ready for his love-tale
to Lily.
CHAPTER LII.
THE FIRST VISIT TO THE GUESTWICK BRIDGE.
[ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)]
When John Eames arrived at Guestwick Manor, he was first welcomed by
Lady Julia. "My dear Mr. Eames," she said, "I cannot tell you how
glad we are to see you." After that she always called him John, and
treated him throughout his visit with wonderful kindness. No doubt
that affair of the bull had in some measure produced this feeling;
no doubt, also, she was well disposed to the man who she hoped might
be accepted as a lover by Lily Dale. But I am inclined to think that
the fact of his having beaten Crosbie had been the most potential
cause of this affection for our hero on the part of Lady Julia.
Ladies,--especially discreet old ladies, such as Lady Julia De
Guest,--are bound to entertain pacific theories, and to condemn
all manner of violence. Lady Julia would have blamed any one who
might have advised Eames to commit an assault upon Crosbie. But,
nevertheless, deeds of prowess are still dear to the female heart,
and a woman, be she ever so old and discreet, understands and
appreciates the summary justice which may be done by means of a
thrashing. Lady Julia, had she been called upon to talk of it, would
undoubtedly have told Eames that he had committed a fault in striking
Mr. Crosbie; but the deed had been done, and Lady Julia became very
fond of John Eames.
"Vickers shall show you your room, if you like to go upstairs; but
you'll find my brother close about the house if you choose to go
out; I saw him not half an hour since." But John seemed to be well
satisfied to sit in the arm-chair over the fire, and talk to his
hostess; so neither of them moved.
"And now that you're a private secretary, how do you like it?"
"I like the work well enough; only I don't like the man, Lady Julia.
But I shouldn't say so, because he is such an intimate friend of your
brother's."
"An intimate friend of Theodore's!--Sir Raffle Buffle!" Lady Julia
stiffened her back and put on a serious face, not being exactly
pleased at being told that the Earl De Guest had any such intimate
friend.
"At any rate he tells me so about four times a day, Lady Julia. And
he particularly wants to come down here next September."
"Did he tell you that, too?"
"Indeed he did. You can't believe what a goose he is! Then his voice
sounds like a cracked bell; it's the most disagreeable voice you ever
heard in your life. And one has always to be on one's guard lest he
should make one do something that is--is--that isn't quite the thing
for a gentleman. You understand;--what the messenger ought to do."
"You shouldn't be too much afraid of your own dignity."
"No, I'm not. If Lord De Guest were to ask me to fetch him his shoes,
I'd run to Guestwick and back for them and think nothing of it,--just
because I know he's my friend. He'd have a right to send me. But I'm
not going to do such things as that for Sir Raffle Buffle."
"Fetch him his shoes!"
"That's what FitzHoward had to do, and he didn't like it."
"Isn't Mr. FitzHoward nephew to the Duchess of St. Bungay?"
"Nephew, or cousin, or something."
"Dear me!" said Lady Julia, "what a horrible man!" And in this way
John Eames and her ladyship became very intimate.
There was no one at dinner at the Manor that day but the earl and his
sister and their single guest. The earl when he came in was very warm
in his welcome, slapping his young friend on the back, and poking
jokes at him with a good-humoured if not brilliant pleasantry.
"Thrashed anybody lately, John?"
"Nobody to speak of," said Johnny.
"Brought your nightcap down for your out-o'-doors nap?"
"No; but I've got a grand stick for the bull," said Johnny.
"Ah! that's no joke now, I can tell you," said the earl. "We had to
sell him, and it half broke my heart. We don't know what had come to
him, but he became quite unruly after that;--knocked Darvell down
in the straw-yard! It was a very bad business,--a very bad business,
indeed! Come, go and dress. Do you remember how you came down to
dinner that day? I shall never forget how Crofts stared at you. Come,
you've only got twenty minutes, and you London fellows always want an
hour."
"He's entitled to some consideration now he's a private secretary,"
said Lady Julia.
"Bless us all! yes; I forgot that. Come, Mr. Private Secretary, don't
stand on the grandeur of your neck-tie to-day, as there's nobody here
but ourselves. You shall have an opportunity to-morrow."
Then Johnny was handed over to the groom of the chambers, and exactly
in twenty minutes he re-appeared in the drawing-room.
As soon as Lady Julia had left them after dinner, the earl began to
explain his plan for the coming campaign. "I'll tell you now what I
have arranged," said he. "The squire is to be here to-morrow with his
eldest niece,--your Miss Lily's sister, you know."
"What, Bell?"
"Yes, with Bell, if her name is Bell. She's a very pretty girl, too.
I don't know whether she's not the prettiest of the two, after all."
"That's a matter of opinion."
"Just so, Johnny; and do you stick to your own. They're coming here
for three or four days. Lady Julia did ask Mrs. Dale and Lily. I
wonder whether you'll let me call her Lily?"
"Oh, dear! I wish I might have the power of letting you."
"That's just the battle that you've got to fight. But the mother
and the younger sister wouldn't come. Lady Julia says it's all
right;--that, as a matter of course, she wouldn't come when she heard
you were to be here. I don't quite understand it. In my days the
young girls were ready enough to go where they knew they'd meet their
lovers, and I never thought any the worse of them for it."
"It wasn't because of that," said Eames.
"That's what Lady Julia says, and I always find her to be right in
things of that sort. And she says you'll have a better chance in
going over there than you would here, if she were in the same house
with you. If I was going to make love to a girl, of course I'd sooner
have her close to me,--staying in the same house. I should think it
the best fun in the world. And we might have had a dance, and all
that kind of thing. But I couldn't make her come, you know."
"Oh, no; of course not."
"And Lady Julia thinks that it's best as it is. You must go over, you
know, and get the mother on your side, if you can. I take it, the
truth is this;--you mustn't be angry with me, you know, for saying
it."
"You may be sure of that."
"I suppose she was fond of that fellow, Crosbie. She can't be very
fond of him now, I should think, after the way he has treated her;
but she'll find a difficulty in making her confession that she really
likes you better than she ever liked him. Of course that's what
you'll want her to say."
"I want her to say that she'll be my wife,--some day."
"And when she has agreed to the some day, then you'll begin to press
her to agree to your day;--eh, sir? My belief is you'll bring her
round. Poor girl! why should she break her heart when a decent fellow
like you will only be too glad to make her a happy woman?" And in
this way the earl talked to Eames till the latter almost believed
that the difficulties were vanishing from out of his path. "Could
it be possible," he asked himself, as he went to bed, "that in a
fortnight's time Lily Dale should have accepted him as her future
husband?" Then he remembered that day on which Crosbie, with the
two girls, had called at his mother's house, when in the bitterness
of his heart, he had sworn to himself that he would always regard
Crosbie as his enemy. Since then the world had gone well with him;
and he had no longer any very bitter feeling against Crosbie. That
matter had been arranged on the platform of the Paddington Station.
He felt that if Lily would now accept him he could almost shake hands
with Crosbie. The episode in his life and in Lily's would have been
painful; but he would learn to look back upon that without regret, if
Lily could be taught to believe that a kind fate had at last given
her to the better of her two lovers. "I'm afraid she won't bring
herself to forget him," he had said to the earl. "She'll only be too
happy to forget him," the earl had answered, "if you can induce her
to begin the attempt. Of course it is very bitter at first;--all the
world knew about it; but, poor girl, she is not to be wretched for
ever, because of that. Do you go about your work with some little
confidence, and I doubt not but what you'll have your way. You have
everybody in your favour,--the squire, her mother, and all." While
such words as these were in his ears how could he fail to hope and to
be confident? While he was sitting cozily over his bedroom fire he
resolved that it should be as the earl had said. But when he got up
on the following morning, and stood shivering as he came out of his
bath, he could not feel the same confidence. "Of course I shall go
to her," he said to himself, "and make a plain story of it. But I
know what her answer will be. She will tell me that she cannot forget
him." Then his feelings towards Crosbie were not so friendly as they