The Small House at Allington
daughter. But with Gazebee he had nothing in common. And he felt
that Gazebee, who had once treated him with great deference, had now
lost all such feeling. Crosbie had once been a man of fashion in
the estimation of the attorney, but that was all over. Crosbie, in
the attorney's estimation, was now simply the secretary of a public
office,--a man who owed him money. The two had married sisters, and
there was no reason why the light of the prosperous attorney should
pale before that of the civil servant, who was not very prosperous.
All this was understood thoroughly by both the men.
"There's terrible bad news from Courcy," said the attorney, as soon
as the boy was gone.
"Why; what's the matter?"
"Porlock has married--that woman, you know."
"Nonsense."
"He has. The old lady has been obliged to tell me, and she's nearly
broken-hearted about it. But that's not the worst of it to my mind.
All the world knows that Porlock had gone to the mischief. But he is
going to bring an action against his father for some arrears of his
allowance, and he threatens to have everything out in court, if he
doesn't get his money."
"But is there money due to him?"
"Yes, there is. A couple of thousand pounds or so. I suppose I shall
have to find it. But, upon my honour, I don't know where it's to come
from; I don't, indeed. In one way or another, I've paid over fourteen
hundred pounds for you."
"Fourteen hundred pounds!"
"Yes, indeed;--what with the insurance and the furniture, and the
bill from our house for the settlements. That's not paid yet, but
it's the same thing. A man doesn't get married for nothing, I can
tell you."
"But you've got security."
"Oh, yes; I've got security. But the thing is the ready money. Our
house has advanced so much on the Courcy property, that they don't
like going any further; and therefore it is that I have to do this
myself. They'll all have to go abroad,--that'll be the end of it.
There's been such a scene between the earl and George. George lost
his temper and told the earl that Porlock's marriage was his fault.
It has ended in George with his wife being turned out."
"He has money of his own."
"Yes, but he won't spend it. He's coming up here, and we shall find
him hanging about us. I don't mean to give him a bed here, and I
advise you not to do so either. You'll not get rid of him if you do."
"I have the greatest possible dislike to him."
"Yes; he's a bad fellow. So is John. Porlock was the best, but he's
gone altogether to ruin. They've made a nice mess of it between them;
haven't they?"
This was the family for whose sake Crosbie had jilted Lily Dale!
His single and simple ambition had been that of being an earl's
son-in-law. To achieve that it had been necessary that he should
make himself a villain. In achieving it he had gone through all
manner of dirt and disgrace. He had married a woman whom he knew he
did not love. He was thinking almost hourly of a girl whom he had
loved, whom he did love, but whom he had so injured, that, under
no circumstances, could he be allowed to speak to her again. The
attorney there--who sat opposite to him, talking about his thousands
of pounds with that disgusting assumed solicitude which such men put
on, when they know very well what they are doing--had made a similar
marriage. But he had known what he was about. He had got from his
marriage all that he had expected. But what had Crosbie got?
"They're a bad set,--a bad set," said he in his bitterness.
"The men are," said Gazebee, very comfortably.
"H--m," said Crosbie. It was manifest to Gazebee that his friend was
expressing a feeling that the women, also, were not all that they
should be, but he took no offence, though some portion of the censure
might thereby be supposed to attach to his own wife.
"The countess means well," said Gazebee. "But she's had a hard life
of it,--a very hard life. I've heard him call her names that would
frighten a coal-heaver. I have, indeed. But he'll die soon, and then
she'll be comfortable. She has three thousand a year jointure."
He'll die soon, and then she'll be comfortable! That was one phase of
married life. As Crosbie's mind dwelt upon the words, he remembered
Lily's promise made in the fields, that she would do everything for
him. He remembered her kisses; the touch of her fingers; the low
silvery laughing voice; the feel of her dress as she would press
close to him. After that he reflected whether it would not be well
that he too should die, so that Alexandrina might be comfortable. She
and her mother might be very comfortable together, with plenty of
money, at Baden-Baden!
The squire at Allington, and Mrs. Dale, and Lady Julia De Guest, had
been, and still were, uneasy in their minds because no punishment had
fallen upon Crosbie,--no vengeance had overtaken him in consequence
of his great sin. How little did they know about it! Could he have
been prosecuted and put into prison, with hard labour, for twelve
months, the punishment would not have been heavier. He would, in that
case, at any rate, have been saved from Lady Alexandrina.
"George and his wife are coming up to town; couldn't we ask them to
come to us for a week or so?" said his wife to him, as soon as they
were in the fly together, going home.
"No," shouted Crosbie; "we will do no such thing." There was not
another word said on the subject,--nor on any other subject till they
got home. When they reached their house Alexandrina had a headache,
and went up to her room immediately. Crosbie threw himself into a
chair before the remains of a fire in the dining-room, and resolved
that he would cut the whole De Courcy family altogether. His wife, as
his wife, should obey him. She should obey him--or else leave him and
go her way by herself, leaving him to go his way. There was an income
of twelve hundred a year. Would it not be a fine thing for him if he
could keep six hundred for himself and return to his old manner of
life. All his old comforts of course he would not have,--nor the old
esteem and regard of men. But the luxury of a club dinner he might
enjoy. Unembarrassed evenings might be his,--with liberty to him to
pass them as he pleased. He knew many men who were separated from
their wives, and who seemed to be as happy as their neighbours.
And then he remembered how ugly Alexandrina had been this evening,
wearing a great tinsel coronet full of false stones, with a cold in
her head which had reddened her nose. There had, too, fallen upon
her in these her married days a certain fixed dreary dowdiness.
She certainly was very plain! So he said to himself, and then he
went to bed. I myself am inclined to think that his punishment was
sufficiently severe.
The next morning his wife still complained of headache, so that he
breakfasted alone. Since that positive refusal which he had given to
her proposition for inviting her brother, there had not been much
conversation between them. "My head is splitting, and Sarah shall
bring some tea and toast up to me, if you will not mind it."
He did not mind it in the least, and ate his breakfast by himself,
with more enjoyment than usually attended that meal.
It was clear to him that all the present satisfaction of his life
must come to him from his office work. There are men who find it
difficult to live without some source of daily comfort, and he was
such a man. He could hardly endure his life unless there were some
page in it on which he could look with gratified eyes. He had always
liked his work, and he now determined that he would like it better
than ever. But in order that he might do so it was necessary that
he should have much of his own way. According to the theory of his
office, it was incumbent on him as Secretary simply to take the
orders of the Commissioners, and see that they were executed; and to
such work as this his predecessor had strictly confined himself. But
he had already done more than this, and had conceived the ambition
of holding the Board almost under his thumb. He flattered himself
that he knew his own work and theirs better than they knew either,
and that by a little management he might be their master. It is not
impossible that such might have been the case had there been no
fracas at the Paddington station; but, as we all know, the dominant
cock of the farmyard must be ever dominant. When he shall once have
had his wings so smeared with mud as to give him even the appearance
of adversity, no other cock will ever respect him again. Mr. Optimist
and Mr. Butterwell knew very well that their secretary had been
cudgelled, and they could not submit themselves to a secretary who
had been so treated.
"Oh, by-the-by, Crosbie," said Butterwell, coming into his room,
soon after his arrival at his office on that day of his solitary
breakfast, "I want to say just a few words to you." And Butterwell
turned round and closed the door, the lock of which had not
previously been fastened. Crosbie, without much thinking, immediately
foretold himself the nature of the coming conversation.
"Do you know--" said Butterwell, beginning.
"Sit down, won't you?" said Crosbie, seating himself as he spoke. If
there was to be a contest, he would make the best fight he could.
He would show a better spirit here than he had done on the railway
platform. Butterwell did sit down, and felt as he did so, that the
very motion of sitting took away some of his power. He ought to
have sent for Crosbie into his own room. A man, when he wishes
to reprimand another, should always have the benefit of his own
atmosphere.
"I don't want to find any fault," Butterwell began.
"I hope you have not any cause," said Crosbie.
"No, no; I don't say that I have. But we think at the Board--"
"Stop, stop, Butterwell. If anything unpleasant is coming, it had
better come from the Board. I should take it in better spirit; I
should, indeed."
"What takes place at the Board must be official."
"I shall not mind that in the least. I should rather like it than
otherwise."
"It simply amounts to this,--that we think you are taking a little
too much on yourself. No doubt, it's a fault on the right side, and
arises from your wishing to have the work well done."
"And if I don't do it, who will?" asked Crosbie.
"The Board is very well able to get through all that appertains to
it. Come, Crosbie, you and I have known each other a great many
years, and it would be a pity that we should have any words. I have
come to you in this way because it would be disagreeable to you to
have any question raised officially. Optimist isn't given to being
very angry, but he was downright angry yesterday. You had better take
what I say in good part, and go along a little quieter."
But Crosbie was not in a humour to take anything quietly. He was sore
all over, and prone to hit out at everybody that he met. "I have done
my duty to the best of my ability, Mr. Butterwell," he said, "and I
believe I have done it well. I believe I know my duty here as well
as any one can teach me. If I have done more than my share of work,
it is because other people have done less than theirs." As he spoke,
there was a black cloud upon his brow, and the Commissioner could
perceive that the Secretary was very wrathful.
"Oh! very well," said Butterwell, rising from his chair. "I can only,
under such circumstances, speak to the Chairman, and he will tell you
what he thinks at the Board. I think you're foolish; I do, indeed. As
for myself, I have only meant to act kindly by you." After that, Mr.
Butterwell took himself off.
On the same afternoon, Crosbie was summoned into the Board-room in
the usual way, between two and three. This was a daily occurrence,
as he always sat for about an hour with two out of the three