The Small House at Allington
upon him so strongly as those of the Gazebees. When he first called
he was shown into the great family dining-room, which looked out
towards the back of the house. The front windows were, of course,
closed, as the family was not supposed to be in London. Here he
remained in the room for some quarter of an hour, and then the
countess descended upon him in all her grandeur. Perhaps he had never
before seen her so grand. Her dress was very large, and rustled
through the broad doorway, as if demanding even a broader passage.
She had on a wonder of a bonnet, and a velvet mantle that was nearly
as expansive as her petticoats. She threw her head a little back as
she accosted him, and he instantly perceived that he was enveloped
in the fumes of an affectionate but somewhat contemptuous patronage.
In old days he had liked the countess, because her manner to him had
always been flattering. In his intercourse with her he had been able
to feel that he gave quite as much as he got, and that the countess
was aware of the fact. In all the circumstances of their acquaintance
the ascendancy had been with him, and therefore the acquaintance had
been a pleasant one. The countess had been a good-natured, agreeable
woman, whose rank and position had made her house pleasant to him;
and therefore he had consented to shine upon her with such light as
he had to give. Why was it that the matter was reversed, now that
there was so much stronger a cause for good feeling between them? He
knew that there was such change, and with bitter internal upbraidings
he acknowledged to himself that this woman was getting the mastery
over him. As the friend of the countess he had been a great man in
her eyes;--in all her little words and looks she had acknowledged his
power; but now, as her son-in-law, he was to become a very little
man,--such as was Mortimer Gazebee!
"My dear Adolphus," she said, taking both his hands, "the day is
coming very near now; is it not?"
"Very near, indeed," he said.
"Yes, it is very near. I hope you feel yourself a happy man."
"Oh, yes, that's of course."
"It ought to be. Speaking very seriously, I mean that it ought to be
a matter of course. She is everything that a man should desire in a
wife. I am not alluding now to her rank, though of course you feel
what a great advantage she gives you in this respect."
Crosbie muttered something as to his consciousness of having drawn a
prize in the lottery; but he so muttered it as not to convey to the
lady's ears a proper sense of his dependent gratitude. "I know of no
man more fortunate than you have been," she continued; "and I hope
that my dear girl will find that you are fully aware that it is so.
I think that she is looking rather fagged. You have allowed her to do
more than was good for her in the way of shopping."
"She has done a good deal, certainly," said Crosbie.
"She is so little used to anything of that kind! But of course, as
things have turned out, it was necessary that she should see to these
things herself."
"I rather think she liked it," said Crosbie.
"I believe she will always like doing her duty. We are just going now
to Madame Millefranc's, to see some silks;--perhaps you would wish to
go with us?"
Just at this moment Alexandrina came into the room, and looked as
though she were in all respects a smaller edition of her mother.
They were both well-grown women, with handsome, large figures, and a
certain air about them which answered almost for beauty. As to the
countess, her face, on close inspection, bore, as it was entitled
to do, deep signs of age; but she so managed her face that any such
close inspection was never made; and her general appearance for her
time of life was certainly good. Very little more than this could be
said in favour of her daughter.
"Oh dear, no, mamma," she said, having heard her mother's last words.
"He's the worst person in a shop in the world. He likes nothing, and
dislikes nothing. Do you, Adolphus?"
"Indeed I do. I like all the cheap things, and dislike all the dear
things."
"Then you certainly shall not go with us to Madame Millefranc's,"
said Alexandrina.
"It would not matter to him there, you know, my dear," said the
countess, thinking perhaps of the suggestion she had lately made to
Mr. Gazebee.
On this occasion Crosbie managed to escape, simply promising to
return to Portman Square in the evening after dinner. "By-the-by,
Adolphus," said the countess, as he handed her into the hired
carriage which stood at the door, "I wish you would go to Lambert's,
on Ludgate Hill, for me. He has had a bracelet of mine for nearly
three months. Do, there's a good creature. Get it if you can, and
bring it up this evening."
Crosbie, as he made his way back to his office, swore that he would
not do the bidding of the countess. He would not trudge off into
the city after her trinkets. But at five o'clock, when he left his
office, he did go there. He apologized to himself by saying that he
had nothing else to do, and bethought himself that at the present
moment his lady mother-in-law's smiles might be more convenient than
her frowns. So he went to Lambert's, on Ludgate Hill, and there
learned that the bracelet had been sent down to Courcy Castle full
two months since.
After that he dined at his club, at Sebright's. He dined alone,
sitting by no means in bliss with his half-pint of sherry on the
table before him. A man now and then came up and spoke to him, one a
few words, and another a few, and two or three congratulated him as
to his marriage; but the club was not the same thing to him as it had
formerly been. He did not stand in the centre of the rug, speaking
indifferently to all or any around him, ready with his joke, and
loudly on the alert with the last news of the day. How easy it is to
be seen when any man has fallen from his pride of place, though the
altitude was ever so small, and the fall ever so slight. Where is the
man who can endure such a fall without showing it in his face, in his
voice, in his step, and in every motion of every limb? Crosbie knew
that he had fallen, and showed that he knew it by the manner in which
he ate his mutton chop.
At half-past eight he was again in Portman Square, and found the
two ladies crowding over a small fire in a small back drawing-room.
The furniture was all covered with brown holland, and the place
had about it that cold comfortless feeling which uninhabited rooms
always produce. Crosbie, as he had walked from the club up to Portman
Square, had indulged in some serious thoughts. The kind of life which
he had hitherto led had certainly passed away from him. He could
never again be the pet of a club, or indulged as one to whom all good
things were to be given without any labour at earning them on his own
part. Such for some years had been his good fortune, but such could
be his good fortune no longer. Was there anything within his reach
which he might take in lieu of that which he had lost? He might still
be victorious at his office, having more capacity for such victory
than others around him. But such success alone would hardly suffice
for him. Then he considered whether he might not even yet be happy in
his own home,--whether Alexandrina, when separated from her mother,
might not become such a wife as he could love. Nothing softens a
man's feelings so much as failure, or makes him turn so anxiously
to an idea of home as buffetings from those he meets abroad. He
had abandoned Lily because his outer world had seemed to him too
bright to be deserted. He would endeavour to supply her place with
Alexandrina, because his outer world had seemed to him too harsh to
be supported. Alas! alas! a man cannot so easily repent of his sins,
and wash himself white from their stains!
When he entered the room the two ladies were sitting over the fire,
as I have stated, and Crosbie could immediately perceive that the
spirit of the countess was not serene. In fact there had been a few
words between the mother and child on that matter of the trousseau,
and Alexandrina had plainly told her mother that if she were to be
married at all she would be married with such garments belonging to
her as were fitting for an earl's daughter. It was in vain that her
mother had explained with many circumlocutional phrases, that the
fitness in this respect should be accommodated rather to the plebeian
husband than to the noble parent. Alexandrina had been very firm, and
had insisted on her rights, giving the countess to understand that if
her orders for finery were not complied with, she would return as a
spinster to Courcy, and prepare herself for partnership with Rosina.
"My dear," said the countess, piteously, "you can have no idea of
what I shall have to go through with your father. And, of course, you
could get all these things afterwards."
"Papa has no right to treat me in such a way. And if he would not
give me any money himself, he should have let me have some of my
own."
"Ah, my dear, that was Mr. Gazebee's fault."
"I don't care whose fault it was. It certainly was not mine. I
won't have him to tell me"--"him" was intended to signify Adolphus
Crosbie--"that he had to pay for my wedding-clothes."
"Of course not that, my dear."
"No; nor yet for the things which I wanted immediately. I'd much
rather go and tell him at once that the marriage must be put off."
Alexandrina of course carried her point, the countess reflecting with
a maternal devotion equal almost to that of the pelican, that the
earl could not do more than kill her. So the things were ordered as
Alexandrina chose to order them, and the countess desired that the
bills might be sent in to Mr. Gazebee. Much self-devotion had been
displayed by the mother, but the mother thought that none had been
displayed by the daughter, and therefore she had been very cross with
Alexandrina.
Crosbie, taking a chair, sat himself between them, and in a very
good-humoured tone explained the little affair of the bracelet. "Your
ladyship's memory must have played you false," said he, with a smile.
"My memory is very good," said the countess; "very good indeed. If
Twitch got it, and didn't tell me, that was not my fault." Twitch was
her ladyship's lady's-maid. Crosbie, seeing how the land lay, said
nothing more about the bracelet.
After a minute or two he put out his hand to take that of
Alexandrina. They were to be married now in a week or two, and such a
sign of love might have been allowed to him, even in the presence of
the bride's mother. He did succeed in getting hold of her fingers,
but found in them none of the softness of a response. "Don't," said
Lady Alexandrina, withdrawing her hand; and the tone of her voice as
she spoke the word was not sweet to his ears. He remembered at the
moment a certain scene which took place one evening at the little
bridge at Allington, and Lily's voice, and Lily's words, and Lily's
passion, as he caressed her: "Oh, my love, my love, my love!"
"My dear," said the countess, "they know how tired I am. I wonder
whether they are going to give us any tea." Whereupon Crosbie rang
the bell, and, on resuming his chair, moved it a little farther away
from his lady-love.
Presently the tea was brought to them by the housekeeper's assistant,
who did not appear to have made herself very smart for the occasion,
and Crosbie thought that he was _de trop_. This, however, was a
mistake on his part. As he had been admitted into the family, such
little matters were no longer subject of care. Two or three months
since, the countess would have fainted at the idea of such a domestic
appearing with a tea-tray before Mr. Crosbie. Now, however, she
was utterly indifferent to any such consideration. Crosbie was to
be admitted into the family, thereby becoming entitled to certain