The Small House at Allington
twopence farthing a day from the Crown. "That's a bitter old lady,"
said the inspector to the man who was driving him. "Yes, sir; they
all says the same about she. There ain't none of 'em get much change
out of Mrs. Crump."
Bell and Lily went together also to Mrs. Boyce's. "If she makes
herself very disagreeable, I shall insist upon talking of your
marriage," said Lily.
"I've not the slightest objection," said Bell; "only I don't know
what there can be to say about it. Marrying the doctor is such a very
commonplace sort of thing."
"Not a bit more commonplace than marrying the parson," said Lily.
"Oh, yes, it is. Parsons' marriages are often very grand affairs.
They come in among county people. That's their luck in life. Doctors
never do; nor lawyers. I don't think lawyers ever get married in
the country. They're supposed to do it up in London. But a country
doctor's wedding is not a thing to be talked about much."
Mrs. Boyce probably agreed in this view of the matter, seeing that
she did not choose the coming marriage as her first subject of
conversation. As soon as the two girls were seated she flew away
immediately to the house, and began to express her very great
surprise,--her surprise and her joy also,--at the sudden change which
had been made in their plans. "It is so much nicer, you know," said
she, "that things should be pleasant among relatives."
"Things always have been tolerably pleasant with us," said Bell.
"Oh, yes; I'm sure of that. I've always said it was quite a pleasure
to see you and your uncle together. And when we heard about your all
having to leave--"
"But we didn't have to leave, Mrs. Boyce. We were going to leave
because we thought mamma would be more comfortable in Guestwick;
and now we're not going to leave, because we've all 'changed our
mindses,' as Mrs. Crump calls it."
"And is it true the house is going to be painted?" asked Mrs. Boyce.
"I believe it is true," said Lily.
"Inside and out?"
"It must be done some day," said Bell.
"Yes, to be sure; but I must say it is generous of the squire.
There's such a deal of wood-work about your house. I know I wish the
Ecclesiastical Commissioners would paint ours; but nobody ever does
anything for the clergy. I'm sure I'm delighted you're going to stay.
As I said to Mr. Boyce, what should we ever have done without you?
I believe the squire had made up his mind that he would not let the
place."
"I don't think he ever has let it."
"And if there was nobody in it, it would all go to rack and ruin;
wouldn't it? Had your mamma to pay anything for the lodgings she
engaged at Guestwick?"
"Upon my word, I don't know. Bell can tell you better about that
than I, as Dr. Crofts settled it. I suppose Dr. Crofts tells her
everything." And so the conversation was changed, and Mrs. Boyce was
made to understand that whatever further mystery there might be, it
would not be unravelled on that occasion.
It was settled that Dr. Crofts and Bell should be married about the
middle of June, and the squire determined to give what grace he could
to the ceremony by opening his own house on the occasion. Lord De
Guest and Lady Julia were invited by special arrangement between her
ladyship and Bell, as has been before explained. The colonel also
with Lady Fanny came up from Torquay on the occasion, this being the
first visit made by the colonel to his paternal roof for many years.
Bernard did not accompany his father. He had not yet gone abroad, but
there were circumstances which made him feel that he would not find
himself comfortable at the wedding. The service was performed by
Mr. Boyce, assisted, as the _County Chronicle_ very fully remarked,
by the Reverend John Joseph Jones, M.A., late of Jesus College,
Cambridge, and curate of St. Peter's, Northgate, Guestwick; the
fault of which little advertisement was this,--that as none of the
readers of the paper had patience to get beyond the Reverend John
Joseph Jones, the fact of Bell's marriage with Dr. Crofts was not
disseminated as widely as might have been wished.
The marriage went off very nicely. The squire was upon his very best
behaviour, and welcomed his guests as though he really enjoyed their
presence there in his halls. Hopkins, who was quite aware that he had
been triumphant, decorated the old rooms with mingled flowers and
greenery with an assiduous care which pleased the two girls mightily.
And during this work of wreathing and decking there was one little
morsel of feeling displayed which may as well be told in these last
lines. Lily had been encouraging the old man while Bell for a moment
had been absent.
"I wish it had been for thee, my darling!" he said; "I wish it had
been for thee!"
"It is much better as it is, Hopkins," she answered, solemnly.
"Not with him, though," he went on, "not with him. I wouldn't 'a hung
a bough for him. But with t'other one."
Lily said no word further. She knew that the man was expressing the
wishes of all around her. She said no word further, and then Bell
returned to them.
But no one at the wedding was so gay as Lily,--so gay, so bright,
and so wedding-like. She flirted with the old earl till he declared
that he would marry her himself. No one seeing her that evening, and
knowing nothing of her immediate history, would have imagined that
she herself had been cruelly jilted some six or eight months ago. And
those who did know her could not imagine that what she then suffered
had hit her so hard, that no recovery seemed possible for her.
But though no recovery, as she herself believed, was possible for
her--though she was as a man whose right arm had been taken from him
in the battle, still all the world had not gone with that right arm.
The bullet which had maimed her sorely had not touched her life, and
she scorned to go about the world complaining either by word or look
of the injury she had received. "Wives when they have lost their
husbands still eat and laugh," she said to herself, "and he is not
dead like that." So she resolved that she would be happy, and I here
declare that she not only seemed to carry out her resolution, but
that she did carry it out in very truth. "You're a dear good man,
and I know you'll be good to her," she said to Crofts just as he was
about to start with his bride.
"I'll try, at any rate," he answered.
"And I shall expect you to be good to me too. Remember you have
married the whole family; and, sir, you mustn't believe a word of
what that bad man says in his novels about mothers-in-law. He has
done a great deal of harm, and shut half the ladies in England out of
their daughters' houses."
"He shan't shut Mrs. Dale out of mine."
"Remember he doesn't. Now, good-by." So the bride and bridegroom went
off, and Lily was left to flirt with Lord De Guest.
Of whom else is it necessary that a word or two should be said before
I allow the weary pen to fall from my hand? The squire, after much
inward struggling on the subject, had acknowledged to himself that
his sister-in-law had not received from him that kindness which she
had deserved. He had acknowledged this, purporting to do his best to
amend his past errors; and I think I may say that his efforts in that
line would not be received ungraciously by Mrs. Dale. I am inclined
therefore to think that life at Allington, both at the Great House
and at the Small, would soon become pleasanter than it used to be in
former days. Lily soon got the Balmoral boots, or, at least, soon
learned that the power of getting them as she pleased had devolved
upon her from her uncle's gift; so that she talked even of buying the
squirrel's cage; but I am not aware that her extravagance led her as
far as that.
Lord De Courcy we left suffering dreadfully from gout and ill-temper
at Courcy Castle. Yes, indeed! To him in his latter days life did
not seem to offer much that was comfortable. His wife had now gone
from him, and declared positively to her son-in-law that no earthly
consideration should ever induce her to go back again;--"not if I
were to starve!" she said. By which she intended to signify that
she would be firm in her resolve, even though she should thereby
lose her carriage and horses. Poor Mr. Gazebee went down to Courcy,
and had a dreadful interview with the earl; but matters were at
last arranged, and her ladyship remained at Baden-Baden in a state
of semi-starvation. That is to say, she had but one horse to her
carriage.
As regards Crosbie, I am inclined to believe that he did again
recover his power at his office. He was Mr. Butterwell's master, and
the master also of Mr. Optimist, and the major. He knew his business,
and could do it, which was more, perhaps, than might fairly be said
of any of the other three. Under such circumstances he was sure to
get in his hand, and lead again. But elsewhere his star did not
recover its ascendancy. He dined at his club almost daily, and there
were those with whom he habitually formed some little circle. But he
was not the Crosbie of former days,--the Crosbie known in Belgravia
and in St. James's Street. He had taken his little vessel bravely out
into the deep waters, and had sailed her well while fortune stuck
close to him. But he had forgotten his nautical rules, and success
had made him idle. His plummet and lead had not been used, and he had
kept no look-out ahead. Therefore the first rock he met shivered his
bark to pieces. His wife, the Lady Alexandrina, is to be seen in the
one-horse carriage with her mother at Baden-Baden.