The Small House at Allington
not aggravate the sorrow that they have caused. "You can't marry me
yourself," the lady seems to say. "But the next greatest blessing
which I can offer you shall be yours,--you shall see me married to
somebody else." I fully appreciate the intention, but in honest
truth, I doubt the eligibility of the proffered entertainment.
On the present occasion John Eames seemed to be of this opinion, for
he did not at once accept the invitation.
"Will you not oblige me so far as that?" said she softly.
"I would do anything to oblige you," said he gruffly; "almost
anything."
"But not that?"
"No; not that. I could not do that." Then he went off upon his
figure, and when they were next both standing together, they remained
silent till their turn for dancing had again come. Why was it, that
after that night Lily thought more of John Eames than ever she had
thought before;--felt for him, I mean, a higher respect, as for a man
who had a will of his own?
And in that quadrille Crofts and Bell had been dancing together, and
they also had been talking of Lily's marriage. "A man may undergo
what he likes for himself," he had said, "but he has no right to make
a woman undergo poverty."
"Perhaps not," said Bell.
"That which is no suffering for a man,--which no man should think of
for himself,--will make a hell on earth for a woman."
"I suppose it would," said Bell, answering him without a sign of
feeling in her face or voice. But she took in every word that he
spoke, and disputed their truth inwardly with all the strength of
her heart and mind, and with the very vehemence of her soul. "As if
a woman cannot bear more than a man!" she said to herself, as she
walked the length of the room alone, when she had got herself free
from the doctor's arm.
CHAPTER X.
MRS. LUPEX AND AMELIA ROPER.
[ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)]
I should simply mislead a confiding reader if I were to tell him that
Mrs. Lupex was an amiable woman. Perhaps the fact that she was not
amiable is the one great fault that should be laid to her charge;
but that fault had spread itself so widely, and had cropped forth in
so many different places of her life, like a strong rank plant that
will show itself all over a garden, that it may almost be said that
it made her odious in every branch of life, and detestable alike
to those who knew her little and to those who knew her much. If a
searcher could have got at the inside spirit of the woman, that
searcher would have found that she wished to go right,--that she did
make, or at any rate promise to herself that she would make, certain
struggles to attain decency and propriety. But it was so natural to
her to torment those whose misfortune brought them near to her, and
especially that wretched man who in an evil day had taken her to his
bosom as his wife, that decency fled from her, and propriety would
not live in her quarters.
Mrs. Lupex was, as I have already described her, a woman not without
some feminine attraction in the eyes of those who like morning
negligence and evening finery, and do not object to a long nose
somewhat on one side. She was clever in her way, and could say
smart things. She could flatter also, though her very flattery had
always in it something that was disagreeable. And she must have had
some power of will, as otherwise her husband would have escaped
from her before the days of which I am writing. Otherwise, also,
she could hardly have obtained her footing and kept it in Mrs.
Roper's drawing-room. For though the hundred pounds a year, either
paid, or promised to be paid, was matter with Mrs. Roper of vast
consideration, nevertheless the first three months of Mrs. Lupex's
sojourn in Burton Crescent were not over before the landlady of that
house was most anxiously desirous of getting herself quit of her
married boarders.
I shall perhaps best describe a little incident that had occurred
in Burton Crescent during the absence of our friend Eames, and the
manner in which things were going on in that locality, by giving at
length two letters which Johnny received by post at Guestwick on the
morning after Mrs. Dale's party. One was from his friend Cradell,
and the other from the devoted Amelia. In this instance I will give
that from the gentleman first, presuming that I shall best consult
my reader's wishes by keeping the greater delicacy till the last.
Income-tax Office, September, 186--.
MY DEAR JOHNNY,--We have had a terrible affair in the
Crescent; and I really hardly know how to tell you; and
yet I must do it, for I want your advice. You know the
sort of standing that I was on with Mrs. Lupex, and
perhaps you remember what we were saying on the platform
at the station. I have, no doubt, been fond of her
society, as I might be of that of any other friend. I
knew, of course, that she was a fine woman; and if her
husband chose to be jealous, I couldn't help that. But I
never intended anything wrong; and, if it was necessary,
couldn't I call you as a witness to prove it? I never
spoke a word to her out of Mrs. Roper's drawing-room; and
Miss Spruce, or Mrs. Roper, or somebody has always been
there. You know he drinks horribly sometimes, but I do
not think he ever gets downright drunk. Well, he came
home last night about nine o'clock after one of these
bouts. From what Jemima says [Jemima was Mrs. Roper's
parlour-maid], I believe he had been at it down at the
theatre for three days. We hadn't seen him since Tuesday.
He went straight into the parlour and sent up Jemima to
me, to say that he wanted to see me. Mrs. Lupex was in
the room and heard the girl summon me, and, jumping up,
she declared that if there was going to be blood shed she
would leave the house. There was nobody else in the room
but Miss Spruce, and she didn't say a word, but took her
candle and went upstairs. You must own it looked very
uncomfortable. What was I to do with a drunken man down in
the parlour? However, she seemed to think I ought to go.
"If he comes up here," said she, "I shall be the victim.
You little know of what that man is capable when his wrath
has been inflamed by wine!" Now, I think you are aware
that I am not likely to be very much afraid of any man;
but why was I to be got into a row in such a way as this?
I hadn't done anything. And then, if there was to be a
quarrel, and anything was to come of it, as she seemed to
expect,--like bloodshed, I mean, or a fight, or if he were
to knock me on the head with the poker, where should I be
at my office? A man in a public office, as you and I are,
can't quarrel like anybody else. It was this that I felt
so much at the moment. "Go down to him," said she, "unless
you wish to see me murdered at your feet." Fisher says,
that if what I say is true, they must have arranged it all
between them. I don't think that; for I do believe that
she really is fond of me. And then everybody knows that
they never do agree about anything. But she certainly did
implore me to go down to him. Well, I went down; and, as I
got to the bottom of the stairs, where I found Jemima, I
heard him walking up and down the parlour. "Take care of
yourself, Mr. Cradell," said the girl; and I could see by
her face that she was in a terrible fright.
At that moment I happened to see my hat on the hall table,
and it occurred to me that I ought to put myself into the
hands of a friend. Of course, I was not afraid of that
man in the dining-room; but should I have been justified
in engaging in a struggle, perhaps for dear life, in Mrs.
Roper's house? I was bound to think of her interests.
So I took up my hat, and deliberately walked out of the
front door. "Tell him," said I to Jemima, "that I'm not at
home." And so I went away direct to Fisher's, meaning to
send him back to Lupex as my friend; but Fisher was at his
chess-club.
As I thought there was no time to be lost on such an
occasion as this, I went down to the club and called
him out. You know what a cool fellow Fisher is. I don't
suppose anything would ever excite him. When I told him
the story, he said that he would sleep upon it; and I had
to walk up and down before the club while he finished
his game. Fisher seemed to think that I might go back to
Burton Crescent; but, of course, I knew that that would
be out of the question. So it ended in my going home and
sleeping on his sofa, and sending for some of my things in
the morning. I wanted him to get up and see Lupex before
going to the office this morning. But he said it would be
better to put it off, and so he will call upon him at the
theatre immediately after office hours.
I want you to write to me at once saying what you know
about the matter. I ask you, as I don't want to lug in any
of the other people at Roper's. It is very uncomfortable,
as I can't exactly leave her at once because of last
quarter's money, otherwise I should cut and run; for the
house is not the sort of place either for you or me. You
may take my word for that, Master Johnny. And I could tell
you something, too, about A. R., only I don't want to make
mischief. But do you write immediately. And now I think of
it, you had better write to Fisher, so that he can show
your letter to Lupex,--just saying, that to the best of
your belief there had never been anything between her and
me but mere friendship; and that, of course, you, as my
friend, must have known everything. Whether I shall go
back to Roper's to-night will depend on what Fisher says
after the interview.
Good-by, old fellow! I hope you are enjoying yourself, and
that L. D. is quite well.--Your sincere friend,
JOSEPH CRADELL.
John Eames read this letter over twice before he opened that from
Amelia. He had never yet received a letter from Miss Roper; and felt
very little of that ardour for its perusal which young men generally
experience on the receipt of a first letter from a young lady. The
memory of Amelia was at the present moment distasteful to him; and he
would have thrown the letter unopened into the fire, had he not felt
it might be dangerous to do so. As regarded his friend Cradell, he
could not but feel ashamed of him,--ashamed of him, not for running
away from Mr. Lupex, but for excusing his escape on false pretences.
And then, at last, he opened the letter from Amelia. "Dearest John,"
it began; and as he read the words, he crumpled the paper up between
his fingers. It was written in a fair female hand, with sharp points
instead of curves to the letters, but still very legible, and looking
as though there were a decided purport in every word of it.
DEAREST JOHN,--It feels so strange to me to write to you
in such language as this. And yet you are dearest, and
have I not a right to call you so? And are you not my own,
and am not I yours?
Again he crunched the paper up in his hand, and, as he did so, he
muttered words which I need not repeat at length. But still he went
on with his letter.
I know that we understand each other perfectly, and when
that is the case, heart should be allowed to speak openly
to heart. Those are my feelings, and I believe that you
will find them reciprocal in your own bosom. Is it not
sweet to be loved? I find it so. And, dearest John, let me
assure you, with open candour, that there is no room for
jealousy in this breast with regard to you. I have too
much confidence for that, I can assure you, both in your
honour and in my own--I would say charms, only you would
call me vain. You must not suppose that I meant what I