The Small House at Allington
made himself? The letters from his office were taken away every night
shortly after six, and at six o'clock he had not written a word. "I
will do it at home to-night," he said to himself, and then, tearing
off a scrap of paper, he scratched those few lines which Lily
received, and which she had declined to communicate to her mother or
sister. Crosbie, as he wrote them, conceived that they would in some
way prepare the poor girl for the coming blow,--that they would, at
any rate, make her know that all was not right; but in so supposing
he had not counted on the constancy of her nature, nor had he thought
of the promise which she had given him that nothing should make her
doubt him. He wrote the scrap, and then taking his hat walked off
through the gloom of the November evening up Charing Cross and St.
Martin's Lane, towards the Seven Dials and Bloomsbury, into regions
of the town with which he had no business, and which he never
frequented. He hardly knew where he went or wherefore. How was he
to escape from the weight of the burden which was now crushing
him? It seemed to him as though he would change his position with
thankfulness for that of the junior clerk in his office, if only that
junior clerk had upon his mind no such betrayal of trust as that of
which he was guilty.
At half-past seven he found himself at Sebright's, and there he
dined. A man will dine, even though his heart be breaking. Then he
got into a cab, and had himself taken home to Mount Street. During
his walk he had sworn to himself that he would not go to bed that
night till the letter was written and posted. It was twelve before
the first words were marked on the paper, and yet he kept his oath.
Between two and three, in the cold moonlight, he crawled out and
deposited his letter in the nearest post-office.
CHAPTER XXIX.
JOHN EAMES RETURNS TO BURTON CRESCENT.
John Eames and Crosbie returned to town on the same day. It will be
remembered how Eames had assisted Lord De Guest in the matter of the
bull, and how great had been the earl's gratitude on the occasion.
The memory of this, and the strong encouragement which he received
from his mother and sister for having made such a friend by his
gallantry, lent some slight satisfaction to his last hours at home.
But his two misfortunes were too serious to allow of anything like
real happiness. He was leaving Lily behind him, engaged to be married
to a man whom he hated, and he was returning to Burton Crescent,
where he would have to face Amelia Roper,--Amelia either in her rage
or in her love. The prospect of Amelia in her rage was very terrible
to him; but his greatest fear was of Amelia in her love. He had in
his letter declined matrimony; but what if she talked down all his
objections, and carried him off to church in spite of himself!
When he reached London and got into a cab with his portmanteau, he
could hardly fetch up courage to bid the man drive him to Burton
Crescent. "I might as well go to an hotel for the night," he said to
himself, "and then I can learn how things are going on from Cradell
at the office." Nevertheless, he did give the direction to Burton
Crescent, and when it was once given felt ashamed to change it. But,
as he was driven up to the well-known door, his heart was so low
within him that he might almost be said to have lost it. When the
cabman demanded whether he should knock, he could not answer; and
when the maid-servant at the door greeted him, he almost ran away.
"Who's at home?" said he, asking the question in a very low voice.
"There's missus," said the girl, "and Miss Spruce, and Mrs. Lupex.
He's away somewhere, in his tantrums again; and there's Mr.--"
"Is Miss Roper here?" he said, still whispering.
"Oh, yes! Miss Mealyer's here," said the girl, speaking in a cruelly
loud voice. "She was in the dining-room just now, putting out the
table. Miss Mealyer!" And the girl, as she called out the name,
opened the dining-room door. Johnny Eames felt that his knees were
too weak to support him.
But Miss Mealyer was not in the dining-room. She had perceived the
advancing cab of her sworn adorer, and had thought it expedient to
retreat from her domestic duties, and fortify herself among her
brushes and ribbons. Had it been possible that she should know how
very weak and cowardly was the enemy against whom she was called upon
to put herself in action, she might probably have fought her battle
somewhat differently, and have achieved a speedy victory, at the cost
of an energetic shot or two. But she did not know. She thought it
probable that she might obtain power over him and manage him; but it
did not occur to her that his legs were so weak beneath him that she
might almost blow him over with a breath. None but the worst and most
heartless of women know the extent of their own power over men;--as
none but the worst and most heartless of men know the extent of their
power over women. Amelia Roper was not a good specimen of the female
sex, but there were worse women than her.
"She ain't there, Mr. Eames; but you'll see her in the drawen-room,"
said the girl. "And it's she'll be glad to see you back again,
Mr. Eames." But he scrupulously passed the door of the upstairs
sitting-room, not even looking within it, and contrived to get
himself into his own chamber without having encountered anybody.
"Here's yer 'ot water, Mr. Eames," said the girl, coming up to him
after an interval of half-an-hour; "and dinner'll be on the table in
ten minutes. Mr. Cradell is come in, and so is missus's son."
It was still open to him to go out and dine at some eating-house in
the Strand. He could start out, leaving word that he was engaged,
and so postpone the evil hour. He had almost made up his mind to
do so, and certainly would have done it, had not the sitting-room
door opened as he was on the landing-place. The door opened, and he
found himself confronting the assembled company. First came Cradell,
and leaning on his arm, I regret to say, was Mrs. Lupex,--_Egyptia
conjux!_ Then there came Miss Spruce with young Roper; Amelia and her
mother brought up the rear together. There was no longer question of
flight now; and poor Eames, before he knew what he was doing, was
carried down into the dining-room with the rest of the company. They
were all glad to see him, and welcomed him back warmly, but he was
so much beside himself that he could not ascertain whether Amelia's
voice was joined with the others. He was already seated at table, and
had before him a plate of soup, before he recognized the fact that he
was sitting between Mrs. Roper and Mrs. Lupex. The latter lady had
separated herself from Mr. Cradell as she entered the room. "Under
all the circumstances perhaps it will be better for us to be apart,"
she said. "A lady can't make herself too safe; can she, Mrs. Roper?
There's no danger between you and me, is there, Mr. Eames,--specially
when Miss Amelia is opposite?" The last words, however, were intended
to be whispered into his ear.
But Johnny made no answer to her; contenting himself for the moment
with wiping the perspiration from his brow. There was Amelia opposite
to him, looking at him--the very Amelia to whom he had written,
declining the honour of marrying her. Of what her mood towards him
might be, he could form no judgment from her looks. Her face was
simply stern and impassive, and she seemed inclined to eat her dinner
in silence. A slight smile of derision had passed across her face as
she heard Mrs. Lupex whisper, and it might have been discerned that
her nose, at the same time, became somewhat elevated; but she said
not a word.
"I hope you've enjoyed yourself, Mr. Eames, among the vernal beauties
of the country," said Mrs. Lupex.
"Very much, thank you," he replied.
"There's nothing like the country at this autumnal season of the
year. As for myself, I've never been accustomed to remain in London
after the breaking up of the _beau monde_. We've usually been to
Broadstairs, which is a very charming place, with most elegant
society, but now--" and she shook her head, by which all the company
knew that she intended to allude to the sins of Mr. Lupex.
"I'd never wish to sleep out of London for my part," said Mrs. Roper.
"When a woman's got a house over her head, I don't think her mind's
ever easy out of it."
She had not intended any reflection on Mrs. Lupex for not having a
house of her own, but that lady immediately bristled up. "That's
just what the snails say, Mrs. Roper. And as for having a house of
one's own, it's a very good thing, no doubt, sometimes; but that's
according to circumstances. It has suited me lately to live in
lodgings, but there's no knowing whether I mayn't fall lower than
that yet, and have--" but here she stopped herself, and looking over
at Mr. Cradell nodded her head.
"And have to let them," said Mrs. Roper. "I hope you'll be more lucky
with your lodgers than I have been with some of mine. Jemima, hand
the potatoes to Miss Spruce. Miss Spruce, do let me send you a little
more gravy? There's plenty here, really." Mrs. Roper was probably
thinking of Mr. Todgers.
"I hope I shall," said Mrs. Lupex. "But, as I was saying, Broadstairs
is delightful. Were you ever at Broadstairs, Mr. Cradell?"
"Never, Mrs. Lupex. I generally go abroad in my leave. One sees more
of the world, you know. I was at Dieppe last June, and found that
very delightful--though rather lonely. I shall go to Ostend this
year; only December is so late for Ostend. It was a deuced shame my
getting December, wasn't it, Johnny?"
"Yes, it was," said Eames. "I managed better."
"And what have you been doing, Mr. Eames?" said Mrs. Lupex, with one
of her sweetest smiles. "Whatever it may have been, you've not been
false to the cause of beauty, I'm sure." And she looked over to
Amelia with a knowing smile. But Amelia was engaged upon her plate,
and went on with her dinner without turning her eyes either on Mrs.
Lupex or on John Eames.
"I haven't done anything particular," said Eames. "I've just been
staying with my mother."
"We've been very social here, haven't we, Miss Amelia?" continued
Mrs. Lupex. "Only now and then a cloud comes across the heavens,
and the lights at the banquet are darkened." Then she put her
handkerchief up to her eyes, sobbing deeply, and they all knew that
she was again alluding to the sins of her husband.
As soon as dinner was over the ladies with young Mr. Roper retired,
and Eames and Cradell were left to take their wine over the
dining-room fire,--or their glass of gin and water, as it might be.
"Well, Caudle, old fellow," said one. "Well, Johnny, my boy," said
the other. "What's the news at the office?" said Eames.
"Muggeridge has been playing the very mischief." Muggeridge was the
second clerk in Cradell's room. "We're going to put him into Coventry
and not speak to him except officially. But to tell you the truth,
my hands have been so full here at home, that I haven't thought much
about the office. What am I to do about that woman?"
"Do about her? How do about her?"
"Yes; what am I to do about her? How am I to manage with her? There's
Lupex off again in one of his fits of jealousy."
"But it's not your fault, I suppose?"
"Well; I can't just say. I am fond of her, and that's the long and
the short of it; deuced fond of her."
"But, my dear Caudle, you know she's that man's wife."
"Oh, yes, I know all about it. I'm not going to defend myself. It's
wrong, I know,--pleasant, but wrong. But what's a fellow to do? I
suppose in strict morality I ought to leave the lodgings. But, by
George, I don't see why a man's to be turned out in that way. And
then I couldn't make a clean score with old mother Roper. But I say,
old fellow, who gave you the gold chain?"