The Small House at Allington
manoeuvre by which her ladyship might have been kept at home.
"What a horrid old woman she is," said Lily, as they rode back down
the avenue. "I beg your pardon, Bernard; for, of course, she is your
aunt."
"Yes; she is my aunt; and though I am not very fond of her, I deny
that she is a horrid old woman. She never murdered anybody, or robbed
anybody, or stole away any other woman's lover."
"I should think not," said Lily.
"She says her prayers earnestly, I have no doubt," continued Bernard,
"and gives away money to the poor, and would sacrifice to-morrow any
desire of her own to her brother's wish. I acknowledge that she is
ugly, and pompous, and that, being a woman, she ought not to have
such a long black beard on her upper lip."
"I don't care a bit about her beard," said Lily. "But why did she
tell me to do my duty? I didn't go there to have a sermon preached to
me."
"And why did she talk about beauty being dangerous?" said Bell. "Of
course, we all knew what she meant."
"I didn't know at all what she meant," said Lily; "and I don't know
now."
"I think she's a charming woman, and I shall be especially civil to
her at Lady De Courcy's," said Crosbie.
And in this way, saying hard things of the poor old spinster whom
they had left, they made their way into Guestwick, and again
dismounted at Mrs. Eames's door.
CHAPTER XIII.
A VISIT TO GUESTWICK.
[ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)]
As the party from Allington rode up the narrow High-street
of Guestwick, and across the market square towards the small,
respectable, but very dull row of new houses in which Mrs. Eames
lived, the people of Guestwick were all aware that Miss Lily Dale was
escorted by her future husband. The opinion that she had been a very
fortunate girl was certainly general among the Guestwickians, though
it was not always expressed in open or generous terms. "It was a
great match for her," some said, but shook their heads at the same
time, hinting that Mr. Crosbie's life in London was not all that it
should be, and suggesting that she might have been more safe had she
been content to bestow herself upon some country neighbour of less
dangerous pretensions. Others declared that it was no such great
match after all. They knew his income to a penny, and believed
that the young people would find it very difficult to keep a house
in London unless the old squire intended to assist them. But,
nevertheless, Lily was envied as she rode through the town with her
handsome lover by her side.
And she was very happy. I will not deny that she had some feeling of
triumphant satisfaction in the knowledge that she was envied. Such a
feeling on her part was natural, and is natural to all men and women
who are conscious that they have done well in the adjustment of their
own affairs. As she herself had said, he was her bird, the spoil of
her own gun, the product of such capacity as she had in her, on which
she was to live, and, if possible, to thrive during the remainder of
her life. Lily fully recognized the importance of the thing she was
doing, and, in soberest guise, had thought much of this matter of
marriage. But the more she thought of it the more satisfied she was
that she was doing well. And yet she knew that there was a risk. He
who was now everything to her might die; nay, it was possible that
he might be other than she thought him to be; that he might neglect
her, desert her, or misuse her. But she had resolved to trust in
everything, and, having so trusted, she would not provide for herself
any possibility of retreat. Her ship should go out into the middle
ocean, beyond all ken of the secure port from which it had sailed;
her army should fight its battle with no hope of other safety than
that which victory gives. All the world might know that she loved him
if all the world chose to inquire about the matter. She triumphed in
her lover, and did not deny even to herself that she was triumphant.
Mrs. Eames was delighted to see them. It was so good in Mr. Crosbie
to come over and call upon such a poor, forlorn woman as her, and so
good in Captain Dale; so good also in the dear girls, who, at the
present moment, had so much to make them happy at home at Allington!
Little things, accounted as bare civilities by others, were esteemed
as great favours by Mrs. Eames.
"And dear Mrs. Dale? I hope she was not fatigued when we kept her up
the other night so unconscionably late?" Bell and Lily both assured
her that their mother was none the worse for what she had gone
through; and then Mrs. Eames got up and left the room, with the
declared purpose of looking for John and Mary, but bent, in truth, on
the production of some cake and sweet wine which she kept under lock
and key in the little parlour.
"Don't let's stay here very long," whispered Crosbie.
"No, not very long," said Lily. "But when you come to see my friends
you mustn't be in a hurry, Mr. Crosbie."
"He had his turn with Lady Julia," said Bell, "and we must have ours
now."
"At any rate, Mrs. Eames won't tell us to do our duty and to beware
of being too beautiful," said Lily.
Mary and John came into the room before their mother returned; then
came Mrs. Eames, and a few minutes afterwards the cake and wine
arrived. It certainly was rather dull, as none of the party seemed to
be at their ease. The grandeur of Mr. Crosbie was too great for Mrs.
Eames and her daughter, and John was almost silenced by the misery of
his position. He had not yet answered Miss Roper's letter, nor had he
even made up his mind whether he would answer it or no. And then the
sight of Lily's happiness did not fill him with all that friendly joy
which he should perhaps have felt as the friend of her childhood. To
tell the truth, he hated Crosbie, and so he had told himself; and had
so told his sister also very frequently since the day of the party.
"I tell you what it is, Molly," he had said, "if there was any way of
doing it, I'd fight that man."
"What; and make Lily wretched?"
"She'll never be happy with him. I'm sure she won't. I don't want to
do her any harm, but yet I'd like to fight that man,--if I only knew
how to manage it."
And then he bethought himself that if they could both be slaughtered
in such an encounter it would be the only fitting termination to the
present state of things. In that way, too, there would be an escape
from Amelia, and, at the present moment, he saw none other.
When he entered the room he shook hands with all the party from
Allington, but, as he told his sister afterwards, his flesh crept
when he touched Crosbie. Crosbie, as he contemplated the Eames family
sitting stiff and ill at ease in their own drawing-room chairs, made
up his mind that it would be well that his wife should see as little
of John Eames as might be when she came to London;--not that he was
in any way jealous of her lover. He had learned everything from
Lily,--all, at least, that Lily knew,--and regarded the matter
rather as a good joke. "Don't see him too often," he had said to
her, "for fear he should make an ass of himself." Lily had told him
everything,--all that she could tell; but yet he did not in the least
comprehend that Lily had, in truth, a warm affection for the young
man whom he despised.
"Thank you, no," said Crosbie. "I never do take wine in the middle of
the day."
"But a bit of cake?" And Mrs. Eames by her look implored him to do
her so much honour. She implored Captain Dale, also, but they were
both inexorable. I do not know that the two girls were at all more
inclined to eat and drink than the two men; but they understood
that Mrs. Eames would be broken-hearted if no one partook of her
delicacies. The little sacrifices of society are all made by women,
as are also the great sacrifices of life. A man who is good for
anything is always ready for his duty, and so is a good woman always
ready for a sacrifice.
"We really must go now," said Bell, "because of the horses." And
under this excuse they got away.
"You will come over before you go back to London, John?" said Lily,
as he came out with the intention of helping her mount, from which
purpose, however, he was forced to recede by the iron will of Mr.
Crosbie.
"Yes, I'll come over again--before I go. Good-by."
"Good-by, John," said Bell. "Good-by, Eames," said Captain Dale.
Crosbie, as he seated himself in the saddle, made the very slightest
sign of recognition, to which his rival would not condescend to pay
any attention. "I'll manage to have a fight with him in some way,"
said Eames to himself as he walked back through the passage of his
mother's house. And Crosbie, as he settled his feet in the stirrups,
felt that he disliked the young man more and more. It would be
monstrous to suppose that there could be aught of jealousy in the
feeling; and yet he did dislike him very strongly, and felt almost
angry with Lily for asking him to come again to Allington. "I must
put an end to all that," he said to himself as he rode silently out
of town.
"You must not snub my friends, sir," said Lily, smiling as she spoke,
but yet with something of earnestness in her voice. They were out of
the town by this time, and Crosbie had hardly uttered a word since
they had left Mrs. Eames's door. They were now on the high road, and
Bell and Bernard Dale were somewhat in advance of them.
"I never snub anybody," said Crosbie, petulantly; "that is, unless
they have absolutely deserved snubbing."
"And have I deserved it? Because I seem to have got it," said Lily.
"Nonsense, Lily. I never snubbed you yet, and I don't think it likely
that I shall begin. But you ought not to accuse me of not being civil
to your friends. In the first place I am as civil to them as my
nature will allow me to be. And, in the second place--"
"Well; in the second place--?"
"I am not quite sure that you are very wise to encourage that young
man's--friendship just at present."
"That means, I suppose, that I am very wrong to do so?"
"No, dearest, it does not mean that. If I meant so I would tell
you so honestly. I mean just what I say. There can, I suppose, be
no doubt that he has filled himself with some kind of romantic
attachment for you,--a foolish kind of love which I don't suppose he
ever expected to gratify, but the idea of which lends a sort of grace
to his life. When he meets some young woman fit to be his wife he
will forget all about it, but till then he will go about fancying
himself a despairing lover. And then such a young man as John Eames
is very apt to talk of his fancies."
"I don't believe for a moment that he would mention my name to any
one."
"But, Lily, perhaps I may know more of young men than you do."
"Yes, of course you do."
"And I can assure you that they are generally too well inclined to
make free with the names of girls whom they think that they like. You
must not be surprised if I am unwilling that any man should make free
with your name."
After this Lily was silent for a minute or two. She felt that an
injustice was being done to her and she was not inclined to put up
with it, but she could not quite see where the injustice lay. A great
deal was owing from her to Crosbie. In very much she was bound to
yield to him, and she was anxious to do on his behalf even more than
her duty. But yet she had a strong conviction that it would not be
well that she should give way to him in everything. She wished to
think as he thought as far as possible, but she could not say that
she agreed with him when she knew that she differed from him. John
Eames was an old friend whom she could not abandon, and so much at
the present time she felt herself obliged to say.
"But, Adolphus--"
"Well, dearest?"
"You would not wish me to be unkind to so very old a friend as John