The Small House at Allington
notice required. Only you pay mother what you owe, and you're free to
go at once."
"I shall go just when I please, and not one hour before. Who are you,
you gipsy, to speak to me in this way?"
"And as for going, go you shall, if we have to call in the police to
make you."
Amelia, as at this period of the fight she stood fronting her foe
with her arms akimbo, certainly seemed to have the best of the
battle. But the bitterness of Mrs. Lupex's tongue had hardly yet
produced its greatest results. I am inclined to think that the
married lady would have silenced her who was single, had the
fight been allowed to rage,--always presuming that no resort to
grappling-irons took place. But at this moment Mrs. Roper entered the
room, accompanied by her son, and both the combatants for a moment
retreated.
"Amelia, what's all this?" said Mrs. Roper, trying to assume a look
of agonized amazement.
"Ask Mrs. Lupex," said Amelia.
"And Mrs. Lupex will answer," said that lady. "Your daughter has come
in here, and attacked me--in such language--before Mr. Cradell,
too--"
"Why doesn't she pay what she owes, and leave the house?" said
Amelia.
"Hold your tongue," said her brother. "What she owes is no affair of
yours."
"But it's an affair of mine, when I'm insulted by such a creature as
that."
"Creature!" said Mrs. Lupex. "I'd like to know which is most like
a creature! But I'll tell you, what it is, Amelia Roper--" Here,
however, her eloquence was stopped, for Amelia had disappeared
through the door, having been pushed out of the room by her brother.
Whereupon Mrs. Lupex, having found a sofa convenient for the service,
betook herself to hysterics. There for the moment we will leave her,
hoping that poor Mrs. Roper was not kept late out of her bed.
"What a deuce of a mess Eames will make of it if he marries that
girl!" Such was Cradell's reflection as he betook himself to his own
room. But of his own part in the night's transactions he was rather
proud than otherwise, feeling that the married lady's regard for him
had been the cause of the battle which had raged. So, likewise, did
Paris derive much gratification from the ten years' siege of Troy.
CHAPTER XII.
LILIAN DALE BECOMES A BUTTERFLY.
And now we will go back to Allington. The same morning that brought
to John Eames the two letters which were given in the last chapter
but one, brought to the Great House, among others, the following
epistle for Adolphus Crosbie. It was from a countess, and was written
on pink paper, beautifully creamlaid and scented, ornamented with a
coronet and certain singularly-entwined initials. Altogether, the
letter was very fashionable and attractive, and Adolphus Crosbie was
by no means sorry to receive it.
Courcy Castle, September, 186--.
MY DEAR MR. CROSBIE,--We have heard of you from the
Gazebees, who have come down to us, and who tell us that
you are rusticating at a charming little village, in
which, among other attractions, there are wood nymphs and
water nymphs, to whom much of your time is devoted. As
this is just the thing for your taste, I would not for
worlds disturb you; but if you should ever tear yourself
away from the groves and fountains of Allington, we shall
be delighted to welcome you here, though you will find us
very unromantic after your late Elysium.
Lady Dumbello is coming to us, who I know is a favourite
of yours. Or is it the other way, and are you a favourite
of hers? I did ask Lady Hartletop, but she cannot get away
from the poor marquis, who is, you know, so very infirm.
The duke isn't at Gatherum at present, but, of course,
I don't mean that that has anything to do with dear Lady
Hartletop's not coming to us. I believe we shall have the
house full, and shall not want for nymphs either, though
I fear they will not be of the wood and water kind.
Margaretta and Alexandrina particularly want you to come,
as they say you are so clever at making a houseful of
people go off well If you can give us a week before you go
back to manage the affairs of the nation, pray do.
Yours very sincerely,
ROSINA DE COURCY.
The Countess De Courcy was a very old friend of Mr. Crosbie's; that
is to say, as old friends go in the world in which he had been
living. He had known her for the last six or seven years, and had
been in the habit of going to all her London balls, and dancing with
her daughters everywhere, in a most good-natured and affable way.
He had been intimate, from old family relations, with Mr. Mortimer
Gazebee, who, though only an attorney of the more distinguished kind,
had married the countess's eldest daughter, and now sat in Parliament
for the city of Barchester, near to which Courcy Castle was situated.
And, to tell the truth honestly at once, Mr. Crosbie had been on
terms of great friendship with Lady De Courcy's daughters, the Ladies
Margaretta and Alexandrina--perhaps especially so with the latter,
though I would not have my readers suppose by my saying so that
anything more tender than friendship had ever existed between them.
Crosbie said nothing about the letter on that morning; but during the
day, or, perhaps, as he thought over the matter in bed, he made up
his mind that he would accept Lady De Courcy's invitation. It was not
only that he would be glad to see the Gazebees, or glad to stay in
the same house with that great master in the high art of fashionable
life, Lady Dumbello, or glad to renew his friendship with the Ladies
Margaretta and Alexandrina. Had he felt that the circumstances of his
engagement with Lily made it expedient for him to stay with her till
the end of his holidays, he could have thrown over the De Courcys
without a struggle. But he told himself that it would be well for him
now to tear himself away from Lily; or perhaps he said that it would
be well for Lily that he should be torn away. He must not teach her
to think that they were to live only in the sunlight of each other's
eyes during those months, or perhaps years, which must elapse before
their engagement could be carried out. Nor must he allow her to
suppose that either he or she were to depend solely upon the other
for the amusements and employments of life. In this way he argued the
matter very sensibly within his own mind, and resolved, without much
difficulty, that he would go to Courcy Castle, and bask for a week in
the sunlight of the fashion which would be collected there. The quiet
humdrum of his own fireside would come upon him soon enough!
"I think I shall leave you on Wednesday, sir," Crosbie said to the
squire at breakfast on Sunday morning.
"Leave us on Wednesday!" said the squire, who had an old-fashioned
idea that people who were engaged to marry each other should remain
together as long as circumstances could be made to admit of their
doing so. "Nothing wrong, is there?"
"O dear, no! But everything must come to an end some day; and as I
must make one or two short visits before I get back to town, I might
as well go on Wednesday. Indeed, I have made it as late as I possibly
could."
"Where do you go from here?" asked Bernard.
"Well, as it happens, only into the next county,--to Courcy Castle."
And then there was nothing more said about the matter at that
breakfast-table.
It had become their habit to meet together on the Sunday mornings
before church, on the lawn belonging to the Small House, and on this
day the three gentlemen walked down together, and found Lily and Bell
already waiting for them. They generally had some few minutes to
spare on those occasions before Mrs. Dale summoned them to pass
through the house to church, and such was the case at present. The
squire at these times would stand in the middle of the grass-plot,
surveying his grounds, and taking stock of the shrubs, and flowers,
and fruit-trees round him; for he never forgot that it was all his
own, and would thus use this opportunity, as he seldom came down
to see the spot on other days. Mrs. Dale, as she would see him
from her own window while she was tying on her bonnet, would feel
that she knew what was passing through his mind, and would regret
that circumstances had forced her to be beholden to him for such
assistance. But, in truth, she did not know all that he thought at
such times. "It is mine," he would say to himself, as he looked
around on the pleasant place. "But it is well for me that they should
enjoy it. She is my brother's widow, and she is welcome;--very
welcome." I think that if those two persons had known more than they
did of each other's hearts and minds they might have loved each other
better.
And then Crosbie told Lily of his intention. "On Wednesday!" she
said, turning almost pale with emotion as she heard this news. He had
told her abruptly, not thinking, probably, that such tidings would
affect her so strongly.
"Well, yes. I have written to Lady De Courcy and said Wednesday. It
wouldn't do for me exactly to drop everybody, and perhaps--"
"Oh, no! And, Adolphus, you don't suppose I begrudge your going. Only
it does seem so sudden; does it not?"
"You see, I've been here over six weeks."
"Yes; you've been very good. When I think of it, what a six weeks it
has been! I wonder whether the difference seems to you as great as it
does to me. I've left off being a grub, and begun to be a butterfly."
"But you mustn't be a butterfly when you're married, Lily."
"No; not in that sense. But I meant that my real position in the
world,--that for which I would fain hope that I was created,--opened
to me only when I knew you and knew that you loved me. But mamma is
calling us, and we must go through to church. Going on Wednesday!
There are only three days more, then!"
"Yes, just three days," he said, as he took her on his arm and passed
through the house on to the road.
"And when are we to see you again?" she asked, as they reached the
churchyard.
"Ah, who is to say that yet? We must ask the Chairman of Committees
when he will let me go again." Then there was nothing more said, and
they all followed the squire through the little porch and up to the
big family-pew in which they all sat. Here the squire took his place
in one special corner which he had occupied ever since his father's
death, and from which he read the responses loudly and plainly,--so
loudly and plainly, that the parish clerk could by no means equal
him, though with emulous voice he still made the attempt. "T'
squire'd like to be squire, and parson, and clerk, and everything; so
a would," the poor clerk would say, when complaining of the ill-usage
which he suffered.
If Lily's prayers were interrupted by her new sorrow, I think that
her fault in that respect would be forgiven. Of course she had known
that Crosbie was not going to remain at Allington much longer. She
knew quite as well as he did the exact day on which his leave of
absence came to its end, and the hour at which it behoved him to
walk into his room at the General Committee Office. She had taught
herself to think that he would remain with them up to the end of his
vacation, and now she felt as a schoolboy would feel who was told
suddenly, a day or two before the time, that the last week of his
holidays was to be taken from him. The grievance would have been
slight had she known it from the first; but what schoolboy could
stand such a shock, when the loss amounted to two-thirds of his
remaining wealth? Lily did not blame her lover. She did not even
think that he ought to stay. She would not allow herself to suppose
that he could propose anything that was unkind. But she felt her
loss, and more than once, as she knelt at her prayers, she wiped a
hidden tear from her eyes.