The Small House at Allington
"It has never come to you and me," said the squire, with the
slightest possible smile on his dry cheeks. The story of their
lives had been so far the same; each had loved, and each had been
disappointed, and then each had remained single through life.
"Yes, it has," said the earl, with no slight touch of feeling and
even of romance in what he said. "We have retricked our beams in our
own ways, and our lives have not been desolate. But for her,--you and
her mother will look forward to see her married some day."
"I have not thought about it."
"But I want you to think about it. I want to interest you in this
fellow's favour; and in doing so, I mean to be very open with you.
I suppose you'll give her something?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," said the squire, almost offended at an
inquiry of such a nature.
"Well, then, whether you do or not, I'll give him something," said
the earl. "I shouldn't have ventured to meddle in the matter had I
not intended to put myself in such a position with reference to him
as would justify me in asking the question." And the peer as he spoke
drew himself up to his full height. "If such a match can be made, it
shall not be a bad marriage for your niece in a pecuniary point of
view. I shall have pleasure in giving to him; but I shall have more
pleasure if she can share what I give."
"She ought to be very much obliged to you," said the squire.
"I think she would be if she knew young Eames. I hope the day may
come when she will be so. I hope that you and I may see them happy
together, and that you too may thank me for having assisted in making
them so. Shall we go in to Lady Julia now?" The earl had felt that he
had not quite succeeded; that his offer had been accepted somewhat
coldly, and had not much hope that further good could be done on that
day, even with the help of his best port wine.
"Half a moment," said the squire. "There are matters as to which I
never find myself able to speak quickly, and this certainly seems to
be one of them. If you will allow me I will think over what you have
said, and then see you again."
"Certainly, certainly."
"But for your own part in the matter, for your great generosity and
kind heart, I beg to offer you my warmest thanks." Then the squire
bowed low, and preceded the earl out of the room.
Lord De Guest still felt that he had not succeeded. We may probably
say, looking at the squire's character and peculiarities, that no
marked success was probable at the first opening-out of such a
subject. He had said of himself that he was never able to speak
quickly in matters of moment; but he would more correctly have
described his own character had he declared that he could not think
of them quickly. As it was, the earl was disappointed; but had he
been able to read the squire's mind, his disappointment would have
been less strong. Mr. Dale knew well enough that he was being treated
well, and that the effort being made was intended with kindness
to those belonging to him; but it was not in his nature to be
demonstrative and quick at expressions of gratitude. So he entered
the drawing-room with a cold, placid face, leading Eames, and Lady
Julia also, to suppose that no good had been done.
"How do you do, sir?" said Johnny, walking up to him in a wild sort
of manner,--going through a premeditated lesson, but doing it without
any presence of mind.
"How do you do, Eames?" said the squire, speaking with a very cold
voice. And then there was nothing further said till the dinner was
announced.
"Dale, I know you drink port," said the earl when Lady Julia left
them. "If you say you don't like that, I shall say you know nothing
about it."
"Ah! that's the '20," said the squire, tasting it.
"I should rather think it is," said the earl. "I was lucky enough to
get it early, and it hasn't been moved for thirty years. I like to
give it to a man who knows it, as you do, at the first glance. Now
there's my friend Johnny there; it's thrown away upon him."
"No, my lord, it is not. I think it's uncommonly nice."
"Uncommonly nice! So is champagne, or ginger-beer, or lollipops,--for
those who like them. Do you mean to tell me you can taste wine with
half a pickled orange in your mouth?"
"It'll come to him soon enough," said the squire.
"Twenty port won't come to him when he is as old as we are," said the
earl, forgetting that by that time sixty port will be as wonderful to
the then living seniors of the age as was his own pet vintage to him.
The good wine did in some sort soften the squire; but, as a matter
of course, nothing further was said as to the new matrimonial scheme.
The earl did observe, however, that Mr. Dale was civil, and even
kind, to his own young friend, asking a question here and there as
to his life in London, and saying something about the work at the
Income-tax Office.
"It is hard work," said Eames. "If you're under the line, they make
a great row about it, send for you, and look at you as though you'd
been robbing the bank; but they think nothing of keeping you till
five."
"But how long do you have for lunch and reading the papers?" said the
earl.
"Not ten minutes. We take a paper among twenty of us for half the
day. That's exactly nine minutes to each; and as for lunch, we only
have a biscuit dipped in ink."
"Dipped in ink!" said the squire.
"It comes to that, for you have to be writing while you munch it."
"I hear all about you," said the earl; "Sir Raffle Buffle is an old
crony of mine."
"I don't suppose he ever heard my name as yet," said Johnny. "But do
you really know him well, Lord De Guest?"
"Haven't seen him these thirty years; but I did know him."
"We call him old Huffle Scuffle."
"Huffle Scuffle! Ha, ha, ha! He always was Huffle Scuffle; a noisy,
pretentious, empty-headed fellow. But I oughtn't to say so before
you, young man. Come, we'll go into the drawing-room."
"And what did he say?" asked Lady Julia, as soon as the squire was
gone.
There was no attempt at concealment, and the question was asked in
Johnny's presence.
"Well, he did not say much. And coming from him, that ought to be
taken as a good sign. He is to think of it, and let me see him again.
You hold your head up, Johnny, and remember that you shan't want a
friend on your side. Faint heart never won fair lady."
At seven o'clock on the following morning Eames started on his return
journey, and was at his desk at twelve o'clock,--as per agreement
with his taskmaster at the Income-tax Office.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE COMBAT.
[ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)]
I have said that John Eames was at his office punctually at twelve;
but an incident had happened before his arrival there very important
in the annals which are now being told,--so important that it
is essentially necessary that it should be described with some
minuteness of detail.
Lord De Guest, in the various conversations which he had had with
Eames as to Lily Dale and her present position, had always spoken
of Crosbie with the most vehement abhorrence. "He is a damned
blackguard," said the earl, and the fire had come out of his round
eyes as he spoke. Now the earl was by no means given to cursing and
swearing, in the sense which is ordinarily applied to these words.
When he made use of such a phrase as that quoted above, it was to be
presumed that he in some sort meant what he said; and so he did, and
had intended to signify that Crosbie by his conduct had merited all
such condemnation as was the fitting punishment for blackguardism of
the worst description.
"He ought to have his neck broken," said Johnny.
"I don't know about that," said the earl. "The present times have
become so pretty behaved that corporal punishment seems to have gone
out of fashion. I shouldn't care so much about that, if any other
punishment had taken its place. But it seems to me that a blackguard
such as Crosbie can escape now altogether unscathed."
"He hasn't escaped yet," said Johnny.
"Don't you go and put your finger in the pie and make a fool of
yourself," said the earl. If it had behoved any one to resent in any
violent fashion the evil done by Crosbie, Bernard Dale, the earl's
nephew, should have been the avenger. This the earl felt, but under
these circumstances he was disposed to think that there should be no
such violent vengeance. "Things were different when I was young," he
said to himself. But Eames gathered from the earl's tone that the
earl's words were not strictly in accordance with his thoughts, and
he declared to himself over and over again that Crosbie had not yet
escaped.
He got into the train at Guestwick, taking a first-class ticket,
because the earl's groom in livery was in attendance upon him. Had
he been alone he would have gone in a cheaper carriage. Very weak in
him, was it not? little also, and mean? My friend, can you say that
you would not have done the same at his age? Are you quite sure that
you would not do the same now that you are double his age? Be that as
it may, Johnny Eames did that foolish thing, and gave the groom in
livery half-a-crown into the bargain.
"We shall have you down again soon, Mr. John," said the groom, who
seemed to understand that Mr. Eames was to be made quite at home at
the manor.
He went fast to sleep in the carriage, and did not awake till the
train was stopped at the Barchester Junction.
"Waiting for the up-train from Barchester, sir," said the guard.
"They're always late." Then he went to sleep again, and was aroused
in a few minutes by some one entering the carriage in a great hurry.
The branch train had come in, just as the guardians of the line then
present had made up their minds that the passengers on the main line
should not be kept waiting any longer. The transfer of men, women,
and luggage was therefore made in great haste, and they who were
now taking their new seats had hardly time to look about them. An
old gentleman, very red about the gills, first came into Johnny's
carriage, which up to that moment he had shared with an old lady.
The old gentleman was abusing everybody, because he was hurried, and
would not take himself well into the compartment, but stuck in the
doorway, standing on the step.
"Now, sir, when you're quite at leisure," said a voice behind the old
man, which instantly made Eames start up in his seat.
"I'm not at all at leisure," said the old man; "and I'm not going to
break my legs if I know it."
"Take your time, sir," said the guard.
"So I mean," said the old man, seating himself in the corner nearest
to the open door, opposite to the old lady. Then Eames saw plainly
that it was Crosbie who had first spoken, and that he was getting
into the carriage.
Crosbie at the first glance saw no one but the old gentleman and the
old lady, and he immediately made for the unoccupied corner seat.
He was busy with his umbrella and his dressing-bag, and a little
flustered by the pushing and hurrying. The carriage was actually
in motion before he perceived that John Eames was opposite to him:
Eames had, instinctively, drawn up his legs so as not to touch him.
He felt that he had become very red in the face, and to tell the
truth, the perspiration had broken out upon his brow. It was a
great occasion,--great in its imminent trouble, and great in its
opportunity for action. How was he to carry himself at the first
moment of his recognition by his enemy, and what was he to do
afterwards?
It need hardly be explained that Crosbie had also been spending his
Christmas with a certain earl of his acquaintance, and that he too
was returning to his office. In one respect he had been much more
fortunate than poor Eames, for he had been made happy with the smiles
of his lady love. Alexandrina and the countess had fluttered about