The Small House at Allington
hoping this and beseeching that, as though the "Woman in White"
before them had been the dearest friend of their infancy.
She was a woman in white, being dressed in white silk, with white
lace over it, and with no other jewels upon her person than diamonds.
Very beautifully she was dressed; doing infinite credit, no doubt, to
those three artists who had, between them, succeeded in turning her
out of hand. And her face, also, was beautiful, with a certain cold,
inexpressive beauty. She walked up the room very slowly, smiling here
and smiling there; but still with very faint smiles, and took the
place which her hostess indicated to her. One word she said to the
countess and two to the earl. Beyond that she did not open her lips.
All the homage paid to her she received as though it were clearly her
due. She was not in the least embarrassed, nor did she show herself
to be in the slightest degree ashamed of her own silence. She did
not look like a fool, nor was she even taken for a fool; but she
contributed nothing to society but her cold, hard beauty, her gait,
and her dress. We may say that she contributed enough, for society
acknowledged itself to be deeply indebted to her.
The only person in the room who did not move at Lady Dumbello's
entrance was her husband. But he remained unmoved from no want of
enthusiasm. A spark of pleasure actually beamed in his eye as he saw
the triumphant entrance of his wife. He felt that he had made a match
that was becoming to him as a great nobleman, and that the world was
acknowledging that he had done his duty. And yet Lady Dumbello had
been simply the daughter of a country parson, of a clergyman who had
reached no higher rank than that of an archdeacon. "How wonderfully
well that woman has educated her," the countess said that evening
in her dressing-room, to Margaretta. The woman alluded to was Mrs.
Grantly, the wife of the parson and mother of Lady Dumbello.
The old earl was very cross because destiny and the table of
precedence required him to take out Lady Clandidlem to dinner. He
almost insulted her, as she kindly endeavoured to assist him in his
infirm step rather than to lean upon him.
"Ugh!" he said, "it's a bad arrangement that makes two old people
like you and me be sent out together to help each other."
"Speak for yourself," said her ladyship, with a laugh. "I, at any
rate, can get about without any assistance,"--which, indeed, was true
enough.
"It's well for you!" growled the earl, as he got himself into his
seat.
And after that he endeavoured to solace his pain by a flirtation with
Lady Dumbello on his left. The earl's smiles and the earl's teeth,
when he whispered naughty little nothings to pretty young women, were
phenomena at which men might marvel. Whatever those naughty nothings
were on the present occasion, Lady Dumbello took them all with
placidity, smiling graciously, but speaking hardly more than
monosyllables.
Lady Alexandrina fell to Crosbie's lot, and he felt gratified that
it was so. It might be necessary for him, as a married man, to give
up such acquaintances as the De Courcys, but he should like, if
possible, to maintain a friendship with Lady Alexandrina. What a
friend Lady Alexandrina would be for Lily, if any such friendship
were only possible! What an advantage would such an alliance confer
upon that dear little girl;--for, after all, though the dear little
girl's attractions were very great, he could not but admit to himself
that she wanted a something,--a way of holding herself and of
speaking, which some people call style. Lily might certainly learn
a great deal from Lady Alexandrina; and it was this conviction,
no doubt, which made him so sedulous in pleasing that lady on the
present occasion.
And she, as it seemed, was well inclined to be pleased. She said no
word to him during dinner about Lily; and yet she spoke about the
Dales, and about Allington, showing that she knew in what quarters
he had been staying, and then she alluded to their last parties in
London,--those occasions on which, as Crosbie now remembered, the
intercourse between them had almost been tender. It was manifest to
him that at any rate she did not wish to quarrel with him. It was
manifest, also, that she had some little hesitation in speaking to
him about his engagement. He did not for a moment doubt that she was
aware of it. And in this way matters went on between them till the
ladies left the room.
"So you're going to be married, too," said the Honourable George, by
whose side Crosbie found himself seated when the ladies were gone.
Crosbie was employing himself upon a walnut, and did not find it
necessary to make any answer.
"It's the best thing a fellow can do," continued George; "that is, if
he has been careful to look to the main chance,--if he hasn't been
caught napping, you know. It doesn't do for a man to go hanging on by
nothing till he finds himself an old man."
"You've feathered your own nest, at any rate."
"Yes; I've got something in the scramble, and I mean to keep it.
Where will John be when the governor goes off the hooks? Porlock
wouldn't give him a bit of bread and cheese and a glass of beer to
save his life;--that is to say, not if he wanted it."
"I'm told your elder brother is going to be married."
"You've heard that from John. He's spreading that about everywhere to
take a rise out of me. I don't believe a word of it. Porlock never
was a marrying man;--and, what's more, from all I hear, I don't think
he'll live long."
In this way Crosbie escaped from his own difficulty; and when he rose
from the dinner-table had not as yet been driven to confess anything
to his own discredit.
But the evening was not yet over. When he returned to the
drawing-room he endeavoured to avoid any conversation with the
countess herself, believing that the attack would more probably come
from her than from her daughter. He, therefore, got into conversation
first with one and then with another of the girls, till at last he
found himself again alone with Alexandrina.
"Mr. Crosbie," she said, in a low voice, as they were standing
together over one of the distant tables, with their backs to the rest
of the company, "I want you to tell me something about Miss Lilian
Dale."
"About Miss Lilian Dale!" he said, repeating her words.
"Is she very pretty?"
"Yes; she certainly is pretty."
"And very nice, and attractive, and clever,--and all that is
delightful? Is she perfect?"
"She is very attractive," said he; "but I don't think she's perfect."
"And what are her faults?"
"That question is hardly fair, is it? Suppose any one were to ask me
what were your faults, do you think I should answer the question?"
"I am quite sure you would, and make a very long list of them, too.
But as to Miss Dale, you ought to think her perfect. If a gentleman
were engaged to me, I should expect him to swear before all the world
that I was the very pink of perfection."
"But supposing the gentleman were not engaged to you?"
"That would be a different thing."
"I am not engaged to you," said Crosbie. "Such happiness and such
honour are, I fear, very far beyond my reach. But, nevertheless, I am
prepared to testify as to your perfection anywhere."
"And what would Miss Dale say?"
"Allow me to assure you that such opinions as I may choose to express
of my friends will be my own opinions, and not depend on those of any
one else."
"And you think, then, that you are not bound to be enslaved as yet?
How many more months of such freedom are you to enjoy?"
Crosbie remained silent for a minute before he answered, and then he
spoke in a serious voice. "Lady Alexandrina," said he, "I would beg
from you a great favour."
"What is the favour, Mr. Crosbie?"
"I am quite in earnest. Will you be good enough, kind enough, enough
my friend, not to connect my name again with that of Miss Dale while
I am here?"
"Has there been a quarrel?"
"No; there has been no quarrel. I cannot explain to you now why I
make this request; but to you I will explain it before I go."
"Explain it to me!"
"I have regarded you as more than an acquaintance,--as a friend. In
days now past there were moments when I was almost rash enough to
hope that I might have said even more than that. I confess that I had
no warrant for such hopes, but I believe that I may still look on you
as a friend?"
"Oh, yes, certainly," said Alexandrina, in a very low voice, and with
a certain amount of tenderness in her tone. "I have always regarded
you as a friend."
"And therefore I venture to make the request. The subject is not one
on which I can speak openly, without regret, at the present moment.
But to you, at least, I promise that I will explain it all before I
leave Courcy."
He at any rate succeeded in mystifying Lady Alexandrina. "I don't
believe he is engaged a bit," she said to Lady Amelia Gazebee that
night.
"Nonsense, my dear. Lady Julia wouldn't speak of it in that certain
way if she didn't know. Of course he doesn't wish to have it talked
about."
"If ever he has been engaged to her, he has broken it off again,"
said Lady Alexandrina.
"I dare say he will, my dear, if you give him encouragement," said
the married sister, with great sisterly good-nature.
CHAPTER XVIII.
LILY DALE'S FIRST LOVE-LETTER.
Crosbie was rather proud of himself when he went to bed. He had
succeeded in baffling the charge made against him, without saying
anything as to which his conscience need condemn him. So, at least,
he then told himself. The impression left by what he had said would
be that there had been some question of an engagement between him and
Lilian Dale, but that nothing at this moment was absolutely fixed.
But in the morning his conscience was not quite so clear. What would
Lily think and say if she knew it all? Could he dare to tell her, or
to tell any one the real state of his mind?
As he lay in bed, knowing that an hour remained to him before he need
encounter the perils of his tub, he felt that he hated Courcy Castle
and its inmates. Who was there, among them all, that was comparable
to Mrs. Dale and her daughters? He detested both George and John.
He loathed the earl. As to the countess herself, he was perfectly
indifferent, regarding her as a woman whom it was well to know, but
as one only to be known as the mistress of Courcy Castle and a house
in London. As to the daughters, he had ridiculed them all from time
to time--even Alexandrina, whom he now professed to love. Perhaps
in some sort of way he had a weak fondness for her;--but it was a
fondness that had never touched his heart. He could measure the
whole thing at its worth,--Courcy Castle with its privileges, Lady
Dumbello, Lady Clandidlem, and the whole of it. He knew that he had
been happier on that lawn at Allington, and more contented with
himself, than ever he had been even under Lady Hartletop's splendid
roof in Shropshire. Lady Dumbello was satisfied with these things,
even in the inmost recesses of her soul; but he was not a male Lady
Dumbello. He knew that there was something better, and that that
something was within his reach.
But, nevertheless, the air of Courcy was too much for him. In arguing
the matter with himself he regarded himself as one infected with
a leprosy from which there could be no recovery, and who should,
therefore, make his whole life suitable to the circumstances of that
leprosy. It was of no use for him to tell himself that the Small
House at Allington was better than Courcy Castle. Satan knew that
heaven was better than hell; but he found himself to be fitter for
the latter place. Crosbie ridiculed Lady Dumbello, even there among
her friends, with all the cutting words that his wit could find; but,