The Small House at Allington
In answer to this he merely shook his head, and hummed and hawed.
"You would be glad to see them married, as regards yourself?" he
asked.
"Certainly I would," said Mrs. Dale. "I have always liked Bernard,
and I believe my girl would be safe with him. But then, you see, it's
a question on which my own likings or dislikings should not have any
bearing."
And so they parted, the squire making his way back again through
the drawing-room window. He was not above half pleased with his
interview; but then he was a man for whom half-pleasure almost
sufficed. He rarely indulged any expectation that people would make
themselves agreeable to him. Mrs. Dale, since she had come to the
Small House, had never been a source of satisfaction to him, but he
did not on that account regret that he had brought her there. He
was a constant man; urgent in carrying out his own plans, but not
sanguine in doing so, and by no means apt to expect that all things
would go smooth with him. He had made up his mind that his nephew and
his niece should be married, and should he ultimately fail in this,
such failure would probably embitter his future life;--but it was
not in the nature of the man to be angry in the meantime, or to fume
and scold because he met with opposition. He had told Mrs. Dale that
he loved Bell dearly. So he did, though he seldom spoke to her with
much show of special regard, and never was soft and tender with her.
But, on the other hand, he did not now love her the less because she
opposed his wishes. He was a constant, undemonstrative man, given
rather to brooding than to thinking; harder in his words than in his
thoughts, with more of heart than others believed, or than he himself
knew; but, above all, he was a man who having once desired a thing
would desire it always.
Mrs. Dale, when she was left alone, began to turn over the question
in her mind in a much fuller manner than the squire's presence had
as yet made possible for her. Would not such a marriage as this be
for them all the happiest domestic arrangement which circumstances
could afford? Her daughter would have no fortune, but here would
be prepared for her all the comforts which fortune can give. She
would be received into her uncle's house, not as some penniless,
portionless bride whom Bernard might have married and brought home,
but as the wife whom of all others Bernard's friends had thought
desirable for him. And then, as regarded Mrs. Dale herself, there
would be nothing in such a marriage which would not be delightful
to her. It would give a realization to all her dreams of future
happiness.
But, as she said to herself over and over again, all that must go for
nothing. It must be for Bell, and for her only, to answer Bernard's
question. In her mind there was something sacred in that idea of
love. She would regard her daughter almost as a castaway if she were
to marry any man without absolutely loving him,--loving him as Lily
loved her lover, with all her heart and all her strength.
With such a conviction as this strong upon her, she felt that she
could not say much to Bell that would be of any service.
CHAPTER XX.
DR. CROFTS.
If there was anything in the world as to which Isabella Dale was
quite certain, it was this--that she was not in love with Dr. Crofts.
As to being in love with her cousin Bernard, she had never had
occasion to ask herself any question on that head. She liked him very
well, but she had never thought of marrying him; and now, when he
made his proposal, she could not bring herself to think of it. But
as regards Dr. Crofts, she had thought of it, and had made up her
mind;--in the manner above described.
It may be said that she could not have been justified in discussing
the matter even within her own bosom, unless authorized to do so
by Dr. Crofts himself. Let it then be considered that Dr. Crofts
had given her some such authority. This may be done in more ways
than one; and Miss Dale could not have found herself asking herself
questions about him, unless there had been fitting occasion for her
to do so.
The profession of a medical man in a small provincial town is not
often one which gives to its owner in early life a large income.
Perhaps in no career has a man to work harder for what he earns, or
to do more work without earning anything. It has sometimes seemed
to me as though the young doctors and the old doctors had agreed to
divide between them the different results of their profession,--the
young doctors doing all the work and the old doctors taking all the
money. If this be so it may account for that appearance of premature
gravity which is borne by so many of the medical profession. Under
such an arrangement a man may be excused for a desire to put away
childish things very early in life.
Dr. Crofts had now been practising in Guestwick nearly seven years,
having settled himself in that town when he was twenty-three years
old, and being at this period about thirty. During those seven
years his skill and industry had been so fully admitted that he had
succeeded in obtaining the medical care of all the paupers in the
union, for which work he was paid at the rate of one hundred pounds
a year. He was also assistant-surgeon at a small hospital which was
maintained in that town, and held two or three other similar public
positions, all of which attested his respectability and general
proficiency. They, moreover, thoroughly saved him from any of the
dangers of idleness; but, unfortunately, they did not enable him
to regard himself as a successful professional man. Whereas old
Dr. Gruffen, of whom but few people spoke well, had made a fortune
in Guestwick, and even still drew from the ailments of the town a
considerable and hardly yet decreasing income. Now this was hard
upon Dr. Crofts--unless there was existing some such well-understood
arrangement as that above named.
He had been known to the family of the Dales long previous to his
settlement at Guestwick, and had been very intimate with them from
that time to the present day. Of all the men, young or old, whom Mrs.
Dale counted among her intimate friends, he was the one whom she most
trusted and admired. And he was a man to be trusted by those who knew
him well. He was not bright and always ready, as was Crosbie, nor had
he all the practical worldly good sense of Bernard Dale. In mental
power I doubt whether he was superior to John Eames;--to John Eames,
such as he might become when the period of his hobbledehoyhood should
have altogether passed away. But Crofts, compared with the other
three, as they all were at present, was a man more to be trusted than
any of them. And there was, moreover, about him an occasional dash
of humour, without which Mrs. Dale would hardly have regarded him
with that thorough liking which she had for him. But it was a quiet
humour, apt to show itself when he had but one friend with him,
rather than in general society. Crosbie, on the other hand, would
be much more bright among a dozen, than he could with a single
companion. Bernard Dale was never bright; and as for Johnny Eames--;
but in this matter of brightness, Johnny Eames had not yet shown to
the world what his character might be.
It was now two years since Crofts had been called upon for medical
advice on behalf of his friend Mrs. Dale. She had then been ill for
a long period--some two or three months, and Dr. Crofts had been
frequent in his visits at Allington. At that time he became very
intimate with Mrs. Dale's daughters, and especially so with the
eldest. Young unmarried doctors ought perhaps to be excluded from
houses in which there are young ladies. I know, at any rate, that
many sage matrons hold very strongly to that opinion, thinking, no
doubt, that doctors ought to get themselves married before they
venture to begin working for a living. Mrs. Dale, perhaps, regarded
her own girls as still merely children, for Bell, the elder, was then
hardly eighteen; or perhaps she held imprudent and heterodox opinions
on this subject; or it may be that she selfishly preferred Dr.
Crofts, with all the danger to her children, to Dr. Gruffen, with
all the danger to herself. But the result was that the young doctor
one day informed himself, as he was riding back to Guestwick, that
much of his happiness in this world would depend on his being able
to marry Mrs. Dale's eldest daughter. At that time his total income
amounted to little more than two hundred a year, and he had resolved
within his own mind that Dr. Gruffen was esteemed as much the better
doctor by the general public opinion of Guestwick, and that Dr.
Gruffen's sandy-haired assistant would even have a better chance of
success in the town than himself, should it ever come to pass that
the doctor was esteemed too old for personal practice. Crofts had no
fortune of his own, and he was aware that Miss Dale had none. Then,
under those circumstances, what was he to do?
It is not necessary that we should inquire at any great length into
those love passages of the doctor's life which took place three years
before the commencement of this narrative. He made no declaration to
Bell; but Bell, young as she was, understood well that he would fain
have done so, had not his courage failed him, or rather had not his
prudence prevented him. To Mrs. Dale he did speak, not openly avowing
his love even to her, but hinting at it, and then talking to her of
his unsatisfied hopes and professional disappointments. "It is not
that I complain of being poor as I am," said he; "or at any rate, not
so poor that my poverty must be any source of discomfort to me; but I
could hardly marry with such an income as I have at present."
"But it will increase, will it not?" said Mrs. Dale.
"It may some day, when I am becoming an old man," he said. "But of
what use will it be to me then?"
Mrs. Dale could not tell him that, as far as her voice in the matter
went, he was welcome to woo her daughter and marry her, poor as
he was, and doubly poor as they would both be together on such a
pittance. He had not even mentioned Bell's name, and had he done
so she could only have bade him wait and hope. After that he said
nothing further to her upon the subject. To Bell he spoke no word
of overt love; but on an autumn day, when Mrs. Dale was already
convalescent, and the repetition of his professional visits had
become unnecessary, he got her to walk with him through the
half-hidden shrubbery paths, and then told her things which he should
never have told her, if he really wished to bind her heart to his.
He repeated that story of his income, and explained to her that
his poverty was only grievous to him in that it prevented him from
thinking of marriage. "I suppose it must," said Bell. "I should think
it wrong to ask any lady to share such an income as mine," said he.
Whereupon Bell had suggested to him that some ladies had incomes of
their own, and that he might in that way get over the difficulty. "I
should be afraid of myself in marrying a girl with money," said he;
"besides, that is altogether out of the question now." Of course
Bell did not ask him why it was out of the question, and for a time
they went on walking in silence. "It is a hard thing to do," he then
said,--not looking at her, but looking at the gravel on which he
stood. "It is a hard thing to do, but I will determine to think of
it no further. I believe a man may be as happy single as he may
married,--almost." "Perhaps more so," said Bell. Then the doctor left
her, and Bell, as I have said before, made up her mind with great
firmness that she was not in love with him. I may certainly say that
there was nothing in the world as to which she was so certain as she
was of this.
And now, in these days, Dr. Crofts did not come over to Allington