The Small House at Allington
squire, regarding her with that painful, special tenderness. Lily,
who was sitting next to Mrs. Dale, put her hand out secretly and got
hold of her mother's, thereby indicating that she did not intend to
occupy the cell offered to her by her uncle; or to look to him as the
companion of her monastic seclusion. After that there was nothing
more then said as to Bernard's prospects.
"Mrs. Hearn is dining at the vicarage, I suppose?" asked the squire.
"Yes; she went in after church," said Bell. "I saw her go with Mrs.
Boyce."
"She told me she never would dine with them again after dark in
winter," said Mrs. Dale. "The last time she was there, the boy let
the lamp blow out as she was going home, and she lost her way. The
truth was, she was angry because Mr. Boyce didn't go with her."
"She's always angry," said the squire. "She hardly speaks to me now.
When she paid her rent the other day to Jolliffe, she said she hoped
it would do me much good; as though she thought me a brute for taking
it."
"So she does," said Bernard.
"She's very old, you know," said Bell.
"I'd give her the house for nothing, if I were you, uncle," said
Lily.
"No, my dear; if you were me you would not. I should be very wrong
to do so. Why should Mrs. Hearn have her house for nothing, any more
than her meat or her clothes? It would be much more reasonable were I
to give her so much money into her hand yearly; but it would be wrong
in me to do so, seeing that she is not an object of charity;--and it
would be wrong in her to take it."
"And she wouldn't take it," said Mrs. Dale.
"I don't think she would. But if she did, I'm sure she would grumble
because it wasn't double the amount. And if Mr. Boyce had gone home
with her, she would have grumbled because he walked too fast."
"She is very old," said Bell, again.
"But, nevertheless, she ought to know better than to speak
disparagingly of me to my servants. She should have more respect for
herself." And the squire showed by the tone of his voice that he
thought very much about it.
It was very long and very dull that Christmas evening, making
Bernard feel strongly that he would be very foolish to give up his
profession, and tie himself down to a life at Allington. Women
are more accustomed than men to long, dull, unemployed hours; and,
therefore, Mrs. Dale and her daughters bore the tedium courageously.
While he yawned, stretched himself, and went in and out of the room,
they sat demurely, listening as the squire laid down the law on
small matters, and contradicting him occasionally when the spirit
of either of them prompted her specially to do so. "Of course you
know much better than I do," he would say. "Not at all," Mrs. Dale
would answer. "I don't pretend to know anything about it. But--" So
the evening wore itself away; and when the squire was left alone at
half-past nine, he did not feel that the day had passed badly with
him. That was his style of life, and he expected no more from it than
he got. He did not look to find things very pleasant, and, if not
happy, he was, at any rate, contented.
"Only think of Johnny Eames being at Guestwick Manor!" said Bell, as
they were going home.
"I don't see why he shouldn't be there," said Lily. "I would rather
it should be he than I, because Lady Julia is so grumpy."
"But asking your uncle Christopher especially to meet him!" said Mrs.
Dale. "There must be some reason for it." Then Lily felt the soreness
come upon her again, and spoke no further upon the subject.
We all know that there was a special reason, and that Lily's soreness
was not false in its mysterious forebodings. Eames, on the evening
after his dinner at Pawkins's, had seen the earl, and explained to
him that he could not leave town till the Saturday evening; but that
he could remain over the Tuesday. He must be at his office by twelve
on Wednesday, and could manage to do that by an early train from
Guestwick.
"Very well, Johnny," said the earl, talking to his young friend with
the bedroom candle in his hand, as he was going up to dress. "Then
I'll tell you what; I've been thinking of it. I'll ask Dale to come
over to dinner on Tuesday; and if he'll come, I'll explain the whole
matter to him myself. He's a man of business, and he'll understand.
If he won't come, why then you must go over to Allington, and find
him, if you can, on the Tuesday morning; or I'll go to him myself,
which will be better. You mustn't keep me now, as I am ever so much
too late."
Eames did not attempt to keep him, but went away feeling that the
whole matter was being arranged for him in a very wonderful way. And
when he got to Allington he found that the squire had accepted the
earl's invitation. Then he declared to himself that there was no
longer any possibility of retractation for him. Of course he did not
wish to retract. The one great longing of his life was to call Lily
Dale his own. But he felt afraid of the squire,--that the squire
would despise him and snub him, and that the earl would perceive that
he had made a mistake when he saw how his client was scorned and
snubbed. It was arranged that the earl was to take the squire into
his own room for a few minutes before dinner, and Johnny felt that he
would be hardly able to stand his ground in the drawing-room when the
two old men should make their appearance together.
He got on very well with Lady Julia, who gave herself no airs, and
made herself very civil. Her brother had told her the whole story,
and she felt as anxious as he did to provide Lily with another
husband in place of that horrible man Crosbie. "She has been very
fortunate in her escape," she said to her brother; "very fortunate."
The earl agreed with this, saying that in his opinion his own
favourite Johnny would make much the nicer lover of the two. But Lady
Julia had her doubts as to Lily's acquiescence. "But, Theodore, he
must not speak to Miss Lilian Dale herself about it yet a while."
"No," said the earl; "not for a month or so."
"He will have a better chance if he can remain silent for six
months," said Lady Julia.
"Bless my soul! somebody else will have picked her up before that,"
said the earl.
In answer to this Lady Julia merely shook her head.
Johnny went over to his mother on Christmas Day after church, and was
received by her and by his sister with great honour. And she gave
him many injunctions as to his behaviour at the earl's table, even
descending to small details about his boots and linen. But Johnny had
already begun to feel at the Manor that, after all, people are not so
very different in their ways of life as they are supposed to be. Lady
Julia's manners were certainly not quite those of Mrs. Roper; but
she made the tea very much in the way in which it was made at Burton
Crescent, and Eames found that he could eat his egg, at any rate on
the second morning, without any tremor in his hand, in spite of the
coronet on the silver egg-cup. He did feel himself to be rather out
of his place in the Manor pew on the Sunday, conceiving that all the
congregation was looking at him; but he got over this on Christmas
Day, and sat quite comfortably in his soft corner during the sermon,
almost going to sleep. And when he walked with the earl after church
to the gate over which the noble peer had climbed in his agony, and
inspected the hedge through which he had thrown himself, he was quite
at home with his little jokes, bantering his august companion as to
the mode of his somersault. But be it always remembered that there
are two modes in which a young man may be free and easy with his
elder and superior,--the mode pleasant and the mode offensive. Had it
been in Johnny's nature to try the latter, the earl's back would soon
have been up at once, and the play would have been over. But it was
not in Johnny's nature to do so, and therefore it was that the earl
liked him.
At last came the hour of dinner on Tuesday, or at least the hour at
which the squire had been asked to show himself at the Manor House.
Eames, as by agreement with his patron, did not come down so as to
show himself till after the interview. Lady Julia, who had been
present at their discussions, had agreed to receive the squire; and
then a servant was to ask him to step into the earl's own room. It
was pretty to see the way in which the three conspired together,
planning and plotting with an eagerness that was beautifully green
and fresh.
"He can be as cross as an old stick when he likes it," said the earl,
speaking of the squire; "and we must take care not to rub him the
wrong way."
"I shan't know what to say to him when I come down," said Johnny.
"Just shake hands with him and don't say anything," said Lady Julia.
"I'll give him some port wine that ought to soften his heart," said
the earl, "and then we'll see how he is in the evening."
Eames heard the wheels of the squire's little open carriage and
trembled. The squire, unconscious of all schemes, soon found himself
with Lady Julia, and within two minutes of his entrance was walked
off to the earl's private room. "Certainly," he said, "certainly;"
and followed the man-servant. The earl, as he entered, was standing
in the middle of the room, and his round rosy face was a picture of
good-humour.
"I'm very glad you've come, Dale," said he. "I've something I want to
say to you."
Mr. Dale, who neither in heart nor in manner was so light a man as
the earl, took the proffered hand of his host, and bowed his head
slightly, signifying that he was willing to listen to anything.
"I think I told you," continued the earl, "that young John Eames is
down here; but he goes back to-morrow, as they can't spare him at his
office. He's a very good fellow,--as far as I am able to judge, an
uncommonly good young man. I've taken a great fancy to him myself."
In answer to this Mr. Dale did not say much. He sat down, and in some
general terms expressed his good-will towards all the Eames family.
"As you know, Dale, I'm a very bad hand at talking, and therefore
I won't beat about the bush in what I've got to say at present. Of
course we've all heard of that scoundrel Crosbie, and the way he has
treated your niece Lilian."
"He is a scoundrel,--an unmixed scoundrel. But the less we say about
that the better. It is ill mentioning a girl's name in such a matter
as that."
"But, my dear Dale, I must mention it at the present moment. Dear
young child, I would do anything to comfort her! And I hope that
something may be done to comfort her. Do you know that that young man
was in love with her long before Crosbie ever saw her?"
"What;--John Eames!"
"Yes, John Eames. And I wish heartily for his sake that he had won
her regard before she had met that rascal whom you had to stay down
at your house."
"A man cannot help these things, De Guest," said the squire.
"No, no, no! There are such men about the world, and it is impossible
to know them at a glance. He was my nephew's friend, and I am not
going to say that my nephew was in fault. But I wish,--I only say
that I wish,--she had first known what are this young man's feelings
towards her."
"But she might not have thought of him as you do."
"He is an uncommonly good-looking young fellow; straight made, broad
in the chest, with a good, honest eye, and a young man's proper
courage. He has never been taught to give himself airs like a dancing
monkey; but I think he's all the better for that."
"But it's too late now, De Guest."
"No, no; that's just where it is. It mustn't be too late! That child
is not to lose her whole life because a villain has played her false.
Of course she'll suffer. Just at present it wouldn't do, I suppose,
to talk to her about a new sweetheart. But, Dale, the time will come;
the time will come;--the time always does come."