The Small House at Allington. Anthony Trollope
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hour? If he’s been drinking, he’ll come home as cross as anything.” Then Mr Lupex entered the room, and the pleasantness of the party was destroyed.
It may be said that neither Mrs Cradell nor Mrs Eames would have placed their sons in Burton Crescent if they had known the dangers into which the young men would fall. Each, it must be acknowledged, was imprudent; but each clearly saw the imprudence of the other. Not a week before this, Cradell had seriously warned his friend against the arts of Miss Roper. “By George, Johnny, you’ll get yourself entangled with that girl.”
“One always has to go through that sort of thing,” said Johnny.
“Yes; but those who go through too much of it never get out again. Where would you be if she got a written promise of marriage from you?” Poor Johnny did not answer this immediately, for in very truth Amelia Roper had such a document in her possession.
“Where should I be?” said he. “Among the breaches of promise, I suppose.”
“Either that, or else among the victims of matrimony. My belief of you is, that if you gave such a promise, you’d carry it out.”
“Perhaps I should,” said Johnny; “but I don’t know. It’s a matter of doubt what a man ought to do in such a case.”
“But there’s been nothing of that kind yet?”
“Oh dear, no!”
“If I was you, Johnny, I’d keep away from her. It’s very good fun, of course, that sort of thing; but it is so uncommon dangerous! Where would you be now with such a girl as that for your wife?”
Such had been the caution given by Cradell to his friend. And now, just as he was starting for Allington, Eames returned the compliment. They had gone together to the Great Western station at Paddington, and Johnny tendered his advice as they were walking together up and down the platform.
“I say, Caudle, old boy, you’ll find yourself in trouble with that Mrs Lupex, if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“But I shall take care of myself. There’s nothing so safe as a little nonsense with a married woman. Of course, it means nothing, you know, between her and me.”
“I don’t suppose it does mean anything. But she’s always talking about Lupex being jealous; and if he was to cut up rough, you wouldn’t find it pleasant.”
Cradell, however, seemed to think that there was no danger. His little affair with Mrs Lupex was quite platonic and safe. As for doing any real harm, his principles, as he assured his friend, were too high. Mrs Lupex was a woman of talent, whom no one seemed to understand, and, therefore, he had taken some pleasure in studying her character. It was merely a study of character, and nothing more. Then the friends parted, and Eames was carried away by the night mail-train down to Guestwick.
How his mother was up to receive him at four o’clock in the morning, how her maternal heart was rejoicing at seeing the improvement in his gait, and the manliness of appearance imparted to him by his whiskers, I need not describe at length. Many of the attributes of a hobbledehoy had fallen from him, and even Lily Dale might now probably acknowledge that he was no longer a boy. All which might be regarded as good, if only in putting off childish things he had taken up things which were better than childish.
On the very first day of his arrival he made his way over to Allington. He did not walk on this occasion as he had used to do in the old happy days. He had an idea that it might not be well for him to go into Mrs Dale’s drawing-room with the dust of the road on his boots, and the heat of the day on his brow. So he borrowed a horse and rode over, taking some pride in a pair of spurs which he had bought in Piccadilly, and in his kid gloves, which were brought out new for the occasion. Alas, alas! I fear that those two years in London have not improved John Eames; and yet I have to acknowledge that John Eames is one of the heroes of my story.
On entering Mrs Dale’s drawing-room he found Mrs Dale and her eldest daughter. Lily at the moment was not there, and as he shook hands with the other two, of course, he asked for her.
“She is only in the garden,” said Bell. “She will be here directly.”
“She has walked across to the Great House with Mr Crosbie,” said Mrs Dale; “but she is not going to remain. She will be so glad to see you, John! We all expected you to-day.”
“Did you?” said Johnny, whose heart had been plunged into cold water at the mention of Mr Crosbie’s name. He had been thinking of Lilian Dale ever since his friend had left him on the railway platform; and, as I beg to assure all ladies who may read my tale, the truth of his love for Lily had moulted no feather through that unholy liaison between him and Miss Roper. I fear that I shall be disbelieved in this; but it was so. His heart was and ever had been true to Lilian, although he had allowed himself to be talked into declarations of affection by such a creature as Amelia Roper. He had been thinking of his meeting with Lily all the night and throughout the morning, and now he heard that she was walking alone about the gardens with a strange gentleman. That Mr Crosbie was very grand and very fashionable he had heard, but he knew no more of him. Why should Mr Crosbie be allowed to walk with Lily Dale? And why should Mrs Dale mention the circumstance as though it were quite a thing of course? Such mystery as there was in this was solved very quickly.
“I’m sure Lily won’t object to my telling such a dear friend as you what has happened,” said Mrs Dale. “She is engaged to be married to Mr Crosbie.”
The water into which Johnny’s heart had been plunged now closed over his head and left him speechless. Lily Dale was engaged to be married to Mr Crosbie! He knew that he should have spoken when he heard the tidings. He knew that the moments of silence as they passed by told his secret to the two women before him,—that secret which it would now behove him to conceal from all the world. But yet he could not speak.
“We are all very well pleased at the match,” said Mrs Dale, wishing to spare him.
“Nothing can be nicer than Mr Crosbie,” said Bell. “We have often talked about you, and he will be so happy to know you.”
“He won’t know much about me,” said Johnny; and even in speaking these few senseless words—words which he uttered because it was necessary that he should say something—the tone of his voice was altered. He would have given the world to have been master of himself at this moment, but he felt that he was utterly vanquished.
“There is Lily coming across the lawn,” said Mrs Dale.
“Then I’d better go,” said Eames. “Don’t say anything about it; pray don’t.” And then, without waiting for another word, he escaped out of the drawing-room.
Chapter VI.
Beautiful Days
I am well aware that I have not as yet given any description of Bell and Lilian Dale, and equally well aware that the longer the doing so is postponed the greater the difficulty becomes. I wish it could be understood without any description that they were two pretty, fair-haired girls, of whom Bell was the tallest and the prettiest, whereas Lily was almost as pretty as her sister, and perhaps was more attractive.
They were fair-haired girls, very like each other, of whom I have before my mind’s eye a distinct portrait, which I fear I shall not be able to draw in any such manner as will make it distinct to others. They were something below the usual height, being slight and slender in all their proportions. Lily was the shorter of the two, but the difference was so trifling that it was hardly remembered unless the two were together. And when I said that Bell was the prettier, I should, perhaps, have spoken more justly had I simply declared that her features were more regular than her sister’s. The two girls were very fair, so that the soft tint of colour which relieved the whiteness of their complexion was rather acknowledged than distinctly seen. It was there, telling its own tale of health, as its absence