The Small House at Allington
and his intention of leaving Mrs. Roper's house. "I suppose it isn't
nice enough for you now, John," said his mother.
"It never was very nice, mother, to tell you the truth. There were
people there--. But you mustn't think I am turning up my nose because
I'm getting grand. I don't want to live any better than we all lived
at Mrs. Roper's; but she took in persons that were not agreeable.
There is a Mr. and Mrs. Lupex there." Then he described something
of their life in Burton Crescent, but did not say much about Amelia
Roper. Amelia Roper had not made her appearance in Guestwick, as he
had once feared that she would do; and therefore it did not need that
he should at present make known to his mother that episode in his
life.
When he got back to the Manor House he found that Mr. Dale and his
niece had arrived. They were both sitting with Lady Julia when he
went into the morning room, and Lord De Guest was standing over the
fire talking to them. Eames as he came among them felt terribly
conscious of his position, as though all there were aware that he had
been brought down from London on purpose to make a declaration of
love;--as, indeed, all of them were aware of that fact. Bell, though
no one had told her so in direct words, was as sure of it as the
others.
"Here comes the prince of matadores," said the earl.
"No, my lord; you're the prince. I'm only your first follower."
Though he could contrive that his words should be gay, his looks were
sheepish, and when he gave his hand to the squire it was only by a
struggle that he could bring himself to look straight into the old
man's face.
"I'm very glad to see you, John," said the squire, "very glad
indeed."
"And so am I," said Bell. "I have been so happy to hear that you have
been promoted at your office, and so is mamma."
"I hope Mrs. Dale is quite well," said he;--"and Lily." The word had
been pronounced, but it had been done with so manifest an effort that
all in the room were conscious of it, and paused as Bell prepared her
little answer.
"My sister has been very ill, you know,--with scarlatina. But she has
recovered with wonderful quickness, and is nearly well again now. She
will be so glad to see you if you will go over."
"Yes; I shall certainly go over," said John.
"And now shall I show you your room, Miss Dale?" said Lady Julia. And
so the party was broken up, and the ice had been broken.
CHAPTER LIII.
LOQUITUR HOPKINS.
The squire had been told that his niece Bell had accepted Dr. Crofts,
and he had signified a sort of acquiescence in the arrangement,
saying that if it were to be so, he had nothing to say against Dr.
Crofts. He spoke this in a melancholy tone of voice, wearing on his
face that look of subdued sorrow which was now almost habitual to
him. It was to Mrs. Dale that he spoke on the subject. "I could have
wished that it might have been otherwise," he said, "as you are well
aware. I had family reasons for wishing that it might be otherwise.
But I have nothing to say against it. Dr. Crofts, as her husband,
shall be welcome to my house." Mrs. Dale, who had expected much worse
than this, began to thank him for his kindness, and to say that she
also would have preferred to see her daughter married to her cousin.
"But in such a matter the decision should be left entirely to the
girl. Don't you think so?"
"I have not a word to say against her," he repeated. Then Mrs. Dale
left him, and told her daughter that her uncle's manner of receiving
the news had been, for him, very gracious. "You were his favourite,
but Lily will be so now," said Mrs. Dale.
"I don't care a bit about that;--or, rather, I do care, and think it
will be in every way better. But as I, who am the naughty one, will
go away, and as Lily, who is the good one, will remain with you,
doesn't it almost seem a pity that you should be leaving the house?"
Mrs. Dale thought it was almost a pity, but she could not say so now.
"You think Lily will remain," she said.
"Yes, mamma; I feel sure she will."
"She was always very fond of John Eames;--and he is doing so well."
"It will be of no use, mamma. She is fond of him,--very fond. In a
sort of a way she loves him--so well, that I feel sure she never
mentions his name without some inward reference to her old childish
thoughts and fancies. If he had come before Mr. Crosbie it would
have all been well with her. But she cannot do it now. Her pride
would prevent her, even if her heart permitted it. Oh! dear; it's
very wrong of me to say so, after all that I have said before; but
I almost wish you were not going. Uncle Christopher seems to be
less hard than he used to be; and as I was the sinner, and as I am
disposed of--"
"It is too late now, my dear."
"And we should neither of us have the courage to mention it to Lily,"
said Bell.
On the following morning the squire sent for his sister-in-law, as it
was his wont to do when necessity came for any discussion on matters
of business. This was perfectly understood between them, and such
sending was not taken as indicating any lack of courtesy on the part
of Mr. Dale. "Mary," he said, as soon as Mrs. Dale was seated, "I
shall do for Bell exactly what I have proposed to do for Lily. I had
intended more than that once, of course. But then it would all have
gone into Bernard's pocket; as it is, I shall make no difference
between them. They shall each have a hundred a year,--that is, when
they marry. You had better tell Crofts to speak to me."
"Mr. Dale, he doesn't expect it. He does not expect a penny."
"So much the better for him; and, indeed, so much the better for her.
He won't make her the less welcome to his home because she brings
some assistance to it."
"We have never thought of it,--any of us. The offer has come so
suddenly that I don't know what I ought to say."
"Say--nothing. If you choose to make me a return for it--; but I am
only doing what I conceive to be my duty, and have no right to ask
for a kindness in return."
"But what kindness can we show you, Mr. Dale?"
"Remain in that house." In saying these last words he spoke as though
he were again angry,--as though he were again laying down the law to
them,--as though he were telling her of a duty which was due to him
and incumbent on her. His voice was as stern and his face as acid as
ever. He said that he was asking for a kindness; but surely no man
ever asked for kindness in a voice so peremptory. "Remain in that
house." Then he turned himself in towards his table as though he had
no more to say.
But Mrs. Dale was beginning, now at last, to understand something of
his mind and real character. He could be affectionate and forbearing
in his giving; but when asking, he could not be otherwise than stern.
Indeed, he could not ask; he could only demand.
"We have done so much now," Mrs. Dale began to plead.
"Well, well, well. I did not mean to speak about that. Things are
unpacked easier than they are packed. But, however-- Never mind. Bell
is to go with me this afternoon to Guestwick Manor. Let her be up
here at two. Grimes can bring her box round, I suppose."
"Oh, yes: of course."
"And don't be talking to her about money before she starts. I had
rather you didn't;--you understand. But when you see Crofts, tell him
to come to me. Indeed, he'd better come at once, if this thing is to
go on quickly."
It may easily be understood that Mrs. Dale would disobey the
injunctions contained in the squire's last words. It was quite out
of the question that she should return to her daughters and not
tell them the result of her morning's interview with their uncle.
A hundred a year in the doctor's modest household would make all
the difference between plenty and want, between modest plenty and
endurable want. Of course she told them, giving Bell to understand
that she must dissemble so far as to pretend ignorance of the affair.
"I shall thank him at once," said Bell; "and tell him that I did not
at all expect it, but am not too proud to accept it."
"Pray don't, my dear; not just now. I am breaking a sort of promise
in telling you at all,--only I could not keep it to myself. And he
has so many things to worry him! Though he says nothing about it now,
he has half broken his heart about you and Bernard." Then, too, Mrs.
Dale told the girls what request the squire had just made, and the
manner in which he had made it. "The tone of his voice as he spoke
brought tears into my eyes. I almost wish we had not done anything."
"But, mamma," said Lily, "what difference can it make to him? You
know that our presence near him was always a trouble to him. He never
really wanted us. He liked to have Bell there when he thought that
Bell would marry his pet."
"Don't be unkind, Lily."
"I don't mean to be unkind. Why shouldn't Bernard be his pet? I
love Bernard dearly, and always thought it the best point in uncle
Christopher that he was so fond of him. I knew, you know, that it
was no use. Of course I knew it, as I understood all about--somebody
else. But Bernard is his pet."
"He's fond of you all, in his own way," said Mrs. Dale.
"But is he fond of you?--that's the question," said Lily. "We could
have forgiven him anything done to us, and have put up with any words
he might have spoken to us, because he regards us as children. His
giving a hundred a year to Bell won't make you comfortable in this
house if he still domineers over you. If a neighbour be neighbourly,
near neighbourhood is very nice. But uncle Christopher has not
been neighbourly. He has wanted to be more than an uncle to us, on
condition that he might be less than a brother to you. Bell and I
have always felt that his regard on such terms was not worth having."
"I almost feel that we have been wrong," said Mrs. Dale; "but in
truth I never thought that the matter would be to him one of so much
moment."
When Bell had gone, Mrs. Dale and Lily were not disposed to continue
with much energy the occupation on which they had all been employed
for some days past. There had been life and excitement in the work
when they had first commenced their packing, but now it was grown
wearisome, dull, and distasteful. Indeed so much of it was done that
but little was left to employ them, except those final strappings and
fastenings, and that last collection of odds and ends which could not
be accomplished till they were absolutely on the point of starting.
The squire had said that unpacking would be easier than packing, and
Mrs. Dale, as she wandered about among the hampers and cases, began
to consider whether the task of restoring all the things to their
old places would be very disagreeable. She said nothing of this to
Lily, and Lily herself, whatever might be her thoughts, made no such
suggestion to her mother.
"I think Hopkins will miss us more than any one else," she said.
"Hopkins will have no one to scold."
Just at that moment Hopkins appeared at the parlour window, and
signified his desire for a conference.
"You must come round," said Lily. "It's too cold for the window to
be opened. I always like to get him into the house, because he feels
himself a little abashed by the chairs and tables; or, perhaps, it is
the carpet that is too much for him. Out on the gravel-walks he is
such a terrible tyrant, and in the greenhouse he almost tramples upon
one!"
Hopkins, when he did appear at the parlour door, seemed by his manner
to justify Lily's discretion. He was not at all masterful in his
tone or bearing, and seemed to pay to the chairs and tables all the
deference which they could have expected.
"So you be going in earnest, ma'am," he said, looking down at Mrs.
Dale's feet.
As Mrs. Dale did not answer him at once, Lily spoke:--"Yes, Hopkins,