The Small House at Allington
Flogged! Huffle Scuffle told me I was a felon, but that wasn't half
so bad as this fellow;" and Johnny kicked the newspaper across the
room.
"Indict him for a libel," said Fisher.
"Particularly for saying you wanted to marry a countess's daughter,"
said another clerk.
"I never heard such a scandal in my life," declared a third; "and
then to say that the girl wouldn't look at you."
But not the less was it felt by all in the office that Johnny Eames
was becoming a leading man among them, and that he was one with whom
each of them would be pleased to be intimate. And even among the
grandees this affair of the railway station did him no real harm. It
was known that Crosbie had deserved to be thrashed, and known that
Eames had thrashed him. It was all very well for Sir Raffle Buffle to
talk of police magistrates and misdemeanours, but all the world at
the Income-tax Office knew very well that Eames had come out from
that affair with his head upright, and his right foot foremost.
"Never mind about the newspaper," a thoughtful old senior clerk said
to him. "As he did get the licking and you didn't, you can afford to
laugh at the newspaper."
"And you wouldn't write to the editor?"
"No, no; certainly not. No one thinks of defending himself to a
newspaper except an ass;--unless it be some fellow who wants to have
his name puffed. You may write what's as true as the gospel, but
they'll know how to make fun of it."
Johnny therefore gave up his idea of an indignant letter to the
editor, but he felt that he was bound to give some explanation of
the whole matter to Lord De Guest. The affair had happened as he was
coming from the earl's house, and all his own concerns had now been
made so much a matter of interest to his kind friend, that he thought
that he could not with propriety leave the earl to learn from the
newspapers either the facts or the falsehoods. And, therefore, before
he left his office he wrote the following letter:--
Income-tax Office, December 29, 186--.
MY LORD,--
He thought a good deal about the style in which he ought to address
the peer, never having hitherto written to him. He began, "My dear
Lord," on one sheet of paper, and then put it aside, thinking that it
looked over-bold.
MY LORD,--
As you have been so very kind to me, I feel that I ought
to tell you what happened the other morning at the railway
station, as I was coming back from Guestwick. That
scoundrel Crosbie got into the same carriage with me at
the Barchester Junction, and sat opposite to me all the
way up to London. I did not speak a word to him, or he
to me; but when he got out at the Paddington Station, I
thought I ought not to let him go away, so I-- I can't
say that I thrashed him as I wished to do; but I made an
attempt, and I did give him a black eye. A whole quantity
of policemen got round us, and I hadn't a fair chance. I
know you will think that I was wrong, and perhaps I was;
but what could I do when he sat opposite to me there for
two hours, looking as though he thought himself the finest
fellow in all London?
They've put a horrible paragraph into one of the
newspapers, saying that I got so "flogged" that I haven't
been able to stir since. It is an atrocious falsehood,
as is all the rest of the newspaper account. I was not
touched. He was not nearly so bad a customer as the
bull, and seemed to take it all very quietly. I must
acknowledge, though, that he didn't get such a beating as
he deserved.
Your friend Sir R. B. sent for me this morning, and told
me I was a felon. I didn't seem to care much for that, for
he might as well have called me a murderer or a burglar;
but I shall care very much indeed if I have made you angry
with me. But what I most fear is the anger of some one
else,--at Allington.
Believe me to be, my Lord,
Yours very much obliged and most sincerely,
JOHN EAMES.
"I knew he'd do it if ever he got the opportunity," said the
earl when he had read his letter; and he walked about his room
striking his hands together, and then thrusting his thumbs into his
waistcoat-pockets. "I knew he was made of the right stuff," and the
earl rejoiced greatly in the prowess of his favourite. "I'd have done
it myself if I'd seen him. I do believe I would." Then he went back
to the breakfast-room and told Lady Julia. "What do you think?" said
he; "Johnny Eames has come across Crosbie, and given him a desperate
beating."
"No!" said Lady Julia, putting down her newspaper and spectacles, and
expressing by the light of her eyes anything but Christian horror at
the wickedness of the deed.
"But he has, though. I knew he would if he saw him."
"Beaten him! Actually beaten him!"
"Sent him home to Lady Alexandrina with two black eyes."
"Two black eyes! What a young pickle! But did he get hurt himself?"
"Not a scratch, he says."
"And what'll they do to him?"
"Nothing. Crosbie won't be fool enough to do anything. A man becomes
an outlaw when he plays such a game as he has played. Anybody's hand
may be raised against him with impunity. He can't show his face, you
know. He can't come forward and answer questions as to what he has
done. There are offences which the law can't touch, but which outrage
public feeling so strongly that any one may take upon himself the
duty of punishing them. He has been thrashed, and that will stick to
him till he dies."
"Do tell Johnny from me that I hope he didn't get hurt," said Lady
Julia. The old lady could not absolutely congratulate him on his feat
of arms, but she did the next thing to it.
But the earl did congratulate him, with a full open assurance of his
approval.
"I hope," he said, "I should have done the same at your age, under
similar circumstances, and I'm very glad that he proved less
difficult than the bull. I'm quite sure you didn't want any one to
help you with Master Crosbie. As for that other person at Allington,
if I understand such matters at all, I think she will forgive you."
It may, however, be a question whether the earl did understand such
matters at all. And then he added, in a postscript: "When you write
to me again,--and don't be long first, begin your letter, 'My dear
Lord De Guest,'--that is the proper way."
CHAPTER XXXVII.
AN OLD MAN'S COMPLAINT.
[ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)]
"Have you been thinking again of what I was saying to you, Bell?"
Bernard said to his cousin one morning.
"Thinking of it, Bernard? Why should I think more of it? I had hoped
that you had forgotten it yourself."
"No," he said; "I am not so easy-hearted as that. I cannot look on
such a thing as I would the purchase of a horse, which I could give
up without sorrow if I found that the animal was too costly for my
purse. I did not tell you that I loved you till I was sure of myself,
and having made myself sure I cannot change at all."
"And yet you would have me change."
"Yes, of course I would. If your heart be free now, it must of course
be changed before you come to love any man. Such change as that is to
be looked for. But when you have loved, then it will not be easy to
change you."
"But I have not."
"Then I have a right to hope. I have been hanging on here, Bell,
longer than I ought to have done, because I could not bring myself to
leave you without speaking of this again. I did not wish to seem to
you to be importunate--"
"If you could only believe me in what I say."
"It is not that I do not believe. I am not a puppy or a fool, to
flatter myself that you must be in love with me. I believe you well
enough. But still it is possible that your mind may alter."
"It is impossible."
"I do not know whether my uncle or your mother have spoken to you
about this."
"Such speaking would have no effect."
In fact, her mother had spoken to her, but she truly said that such
speaking would have no effect. If her cousin could not win the battle
by his own skill, he might have been quite sure, looking at her
character as it was known to him, that he would not be able to win it
by the skill of others.
"We have all been made very unhappy," he went on to say, "by this
calamity which has fallen on poor Lily."
"And because she has been deceived by the man she did love, I am to
make matters square by marrying a man I--" and then she paused. "Dear
Bernard, you should not drive me to say words which will sound harsh
to you."
"No words can be harsher than those which you have already spoken.
But, Bell, at any rate, you may listen to me."
Then he told her how desirable it was with reference to all the
concerns of the Dale family that she should endeavour to look
favourably on his proposition. It would be good for them all, he
said, especially for Lily, as to whom, at the present moment, their
uncle felt so kindly. He, as Bernard pleaded, was so anxious at heart
for this marriage, that he would do anything that was asked of him
if he were gratified. But if he were not gratified in this, he would
feel that he had ground for displeasure.
Bell, as she had been desired to listen, did listen very patiently.
But when her cousin had finished, her answer was very short. "Nothing
that my uncle can say, or think, or do, can make any difference in
this," said she.
"You will think nothing, then, of the happiness of others."
"I would not marry a man I did not love, to ensure any amount of
happiness to others;--at least I know I ought not to do so. But I
do not believe I should ensure any one's happiness by this marriage.
Certainly not yours."
After this Bernard had acknowledged to himself that the difficulties
in his way were great. "I will go away till next autumn," he said to
his uncle.
"If you would give up your profession and remain here, she would not
be so perverse."
"I cannot do that, sir. I cannot risk the well-being of my life on
such a chance." Then his uncle had been angry with him, as well as
with his niece. In his anger he determined that he would go again to
his sister-in-law, and, after some unreasonable fashion, he resolved
that it would become him to be very angry with her also, if she
declined to assist him with all her influence as a mother.
"Why should they not both marry?" he said to himself. Lord De Guest's
offer as to young Eames had been very generous. As he had then
declared, he had not been able to express his own opinion at once;
but on thinking over what the earl had said, he had found himself
very willing to heal the family wound in the manner proposed, if any
such healing might be possible. That, however, could not be done
quite as yet. When the time should come, and he thought it might come
soon,--perhaps in the spring, when the days should be fine and the
evenings again long,--he would be willing to take his share with the
earl in establishing that new household. To Crosbie he had refused to
give anything, and there was upon his conscience a shade of remorse
in that he had so refused. But if Lily could be brought to love this
other man, he would be more open-handed. She should have her share
as though she was in fact his daughter. But then, if he intended
to do so much for them at the Small House, should not they in
return do something also for him? So thinking, he went again to his
sister-in-law, determined to explain his views, even though it might
be at the risk of some hard words between them. As regarded himself,
he did not much care for hard words spoken to him. He almost expected
that people's words should be hard and painful. He did not look for
the comfort of affectionate soft greetings, and perhaps would not
have appreciated them had they come to him. He caught Mrs. Dale
walking in the garden, and brought her into his own room, feeling