The Small House at Allington quotes

Of course there was a Great House at Allington. How otherwise should there have been a Small House?

Our story will, as its name imports, have its closest relations with those who lived in the less dignified domicile of the two;

… attributes, by no means even understanding the fullness of a full man, with power of eyesight very limited in seeing aught which was above him, but yet worthy of regard in that he had realized a path of duty and did endeavour to walk therein.

And, moreover, our Mr. Christopher Dale was a gentleman.

Such in character was the squire of Allington, the only regular inhabitant of the Great House. In person, he was a plain, dry man, with short grizzled hair and thick grizzled eyebrows.

We all know the beautiful old Tudor window, with its stout stone mullions and its stone transoms, crossing from side to side at a point much nearer to the top than to the bottom.

Of all windows ever invented it is the sweetest.

And here, at Allington, I think their beauty was enhanced by the fact that they were not regular in their shape. Some of these windows were long windows, while some of them were high.

It was Bernard’s fault. Bernard, I never will come into a hayfield with you again.” And so they all became very intimate; while Bell sat quietly under the tree, listening to a word or two now and then as Mr. Crosbie chose to speak them.

There is a kind of enjoyment to be had in society, in which very few words are necessary.

Bell was less vivacious than her sister Lily; and when, an hour after this, she was dressing herself for dinner, she acknowledged that she had passed a pleasant afternoon, though Mr. Crosbie had not said very much.

Women at forty do not become ancient misanthropes, or stern Rhadamanthine moralists, indifferent to the world’s pleasures—no, not even though they be widows. There are those who think that such should be the phase of their minds. I profess that I do not so think.

I would have women, and men also, young as long as they can be young.

It is not that a woman should call herself in years younger than her father’s family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty;

… her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be.

Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour.

“Oh! mamma, how good you are,” said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner.

… and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together.

It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings.

Her husband’s affection for her had been unswerving—so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always.

I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends.

There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved.

They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy;

But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit—is given in the sun’s own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself.

I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour.

But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ballroom, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of …

How many girls have some such lover as that—a lover who says no more to them than Johnny Eames then said to Lily Dale, who never says more than that?

And yet when, in after years, they count over the names of all who have loved them, the name of that awkward youth is never forgotten.

That farewell had been spoken nearly two years since, and Lily Dale was then seventeen. Since that time, John Eames had been home once, and during his month’s holiday had often visited Allington.

He was to return to Guestwick again during this autumn; but, to tell honestly the truth in the matter, Lily Dale did not think or care very much for his coming.

Girls of nineteen do not care for lovers of one-and-twenty, unless it be when the fruit has had the advantage of some forcing apparatus or southern wall.

John Eames’s love was still as hot as ever, having been sustained on poetry, and kept alive, perhaps, by some close confidence in the ears of a brother clerk;

He had already abandoned the flute on which he had learned to sound three sad notes before he left Guestwick, and, after the fifth or sixth Sunday, he had relinquished his solitary walks along the towing-path of the Regent’s Park Canal.

To think of one’s absent love is very sweet; but it becomes monotonous after a mile or two of a towing-path, and the mind will turn away to Aunt Sally, the Cremorne Gardens, and financial questions.

I doubt whether any girl would be satisfied with her lover’s mind if she knew the whole of it.

To think of one’s absent love is very sweet; but it becomes monotonous after a mile or two of a towing-path, and the mind will turn away to Aunt Sally, the Cremorne Gardens, and financial questions.

I doubt whether any girl would be satisfied with her lover’s mind if she knew the whole of it.

“I say, Caudle, I wonder whether a fellow could get into a club?”

“

If I wore a plumed helmet on my head, it’s my belief he wouldn’t know the difference; nor yet if I had got no head at all. That’s what comes of getting married.

If you’ll take my advice, Miss Roper, you’ll stay as you are; even though somebody should break his heart about it. Wouldn’t you, Miss Spruce?”

“

Oh, love! I don’t believe in love. I suppose I thought I loved once, but what did it come to after all?

Now, there’s Mr. Eames—we all know he’s in love.”

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.

I have, however, no remedy to offer for the evil; and, indeed, am aware that the evil, if there be an evil, is not well expressed in the words I have used.

The hurry is not for matrimony, but for love. Then, the love once attained, matrimony seizes it for its own, and the evil is accomplished.

And Lily Dale was engaged to be married to Adolphus Crosbie—to Apollo Crosbie, as she still called him, confiding her little joke to his own ears.

“Oh, yes! There’s never been any fal-lal between us about love, and duty, and all that. I think we understand each other, and that’s everything.

He knows the comfort of standing well with the heir, and I know the comfort of standing well with the owner.

” It must be admitted, I think, that there was a great deal of sound, common sense about Bernard Dale.

It was pleasant to him also as he sipped the squire’s claret, knowing that his coffee would soon be handed to him by a sweet girl who would have tripped across the two gardens on purpose to perform for him this service.

There is nothing pleasanter than all this, although a man when so treated does feel himself to look like a calf at the altar, ready for the knife, with blue ribbons round his horns and neck.

Crosbie felt that he was such a calf—and the more calf-like, in that he had not as yet dared to ask a question about his wife’s fortune.

Crosbie smiled, and made himself pleasant, and said a few flattering words.

A man who intends to take some very decided step in an hour or two generally contrives to bear himself in the meantime as though the trifles of the world were quite sufficient for him.

So he praised the squire’s game; said a good-natured word as to Dingles, and bantered himself as to his own want of skill. Then all went merry—not quite as a marriage bell; but still merry enough for a party of three gentlemen.

but she also felt that the occasion was trying to her. The man had loved her honestly and truly—still did love her, paying her the great homage of bitter grief in that he had lost her.

Where is the girl who will not sympathize with such love and such grief, if it be shown only because it cannot be concealed, and be declared against the will of him who declares it?

Then came in old Mrs. Hearn, whose cottage was not distant two minutes’ walk from the Small House. She always called Mrs. Dale “my dear,” and petted the girls as though they had been children.

“

He change his mind! When did you ever know Christopher Dale change his mind?

”

“

If he promised to give a man a penny, he’d give it. But if he promised to take away a pound, he’d take it, though it cost him years to get it.

He’s going to turn me out of my cottage, he says.”

Boyce said, speaking by no means loud, but slowly and plainly, hoping thereby to flatter the old woman. But the old woman understood it all. “She’s a sly creature, is Mrs. Boyce,” Mrs. Hearn said to Mrs. Dale, before the evening was out.

There are some old people whom it is very hard to flatter, and with whom it is, nevertheless, almost impossible to live unless you do flatter them.

At last the two heroes came in across the lawn at the drawing-room window;

And then she gently rose up again, smiling, oh, so sweetly, on the man she loved, and the puffings and swellings went out of her muslin.

I think there is nothing in the world so pretty as the conscious little tricks of love played off by a girl towards the man she loves, when she has made up her mind boldly that all the world may know that she has given herself away to him.

I am not sure that Crosbie liked it all as much as he should have done. The bold assurance of her love when they two were alone together he did like. What man does not like such assurances on such occasions?

To be sure, he must give up everything—all the aspirations and ambition of his life; but then, as he declared to himself somewhat mournfully, he was prepared to do that.

Such were his resolutions, and, as he thought of them in bed, he came to the conclusion that few men were less selfish than he was.

“But what will they say to us for staying away?” said Lily, recovering herself. “And I ought to be making the people dance, you know. Come along, and do make yourself nice. Do waltz with Mary Eames;—pray, do.

But the poor curate remained, talking a dull word every now and then to Mrs. Dale, and looking on with tantalized eyes at the joys which the world had prepared for others than him. I must say that

I think that public opinion and the bishops together are too hard upon curates in this particular.

In the latter part of the night’s delight, when time and practice had made them all happy together, John Eames stood up for the first time to dance with Lily.

“You can’t marry me yourself,” the lady seems to say. “But the next greatest blessing which I can offer you shall be yours—you shall see me married to somebody else.”

I fully appreciate the intention, but in honest truth, I doubt the eligibility of the proffered entertainment.

On the present occasion John Eames seemed to be of this opinion, for he did not at once accept the invitation.

But she took in every word that he spoke, and disputed their truth inwardly with all the strength of her heart and mind, and with the very vehemence of her soul. “

As if a woman cannot bear more than a man!

” she said to herself, as she walked the length of the room alone, when she had got herself free from the doctor’s arm.

He tried to think, and to resolve what he would do; but there is no task so hard as that of thinking, when the mind has an objection to the matter brought before it.

The mind, under such circumstances, is like a horse that is brought to the water, but refuses to drink.

So Johnny returned to his home, still doubting whether or no he would answer Amelia’s letter. And if he did not answer it, how would he conduct himself on his return to Burton Crescent?

Lupex. He felt for her no love. He was afraid of her, and, in many respects, disliked her. But to him, in his moth-like weakness, ignorance, and blindness, it seemed to be a great thing that he should be allowed to fly near the candle.

Oh! my friends, if you will but think of it, how many of you have been moths, and are now going about ungracefully with wings more or less burnt off, and with bodies sadly scorched!

But before Mr.

Such was Cradell’s reflection as he betook himself to his own room. But of his own part in the night’s transactions he was rather proud than otherwise, feeling that the married lady’s regard for him had been the cause of the battle which had raged.

So, likewise, did Paris derive much gratification from the ten years’ siege of Troy.

“Yes; you’ve been very good. When I think of it, what a six weeks it has been! I wonder whether the difference seems to you as great as it does to me.

I’ve left off being a grub, and begun to be a butterfly.

”

“It don’t give one much trouble following him into his arguments.” Mr. Crosbie perhaps found the difficulty greater than did Mrs. Hearn, and would have devoted his mind more perfectly to the discourse had the argument been deeper.

It is very hard, that necessity of listening to a man who says nothing.

On this occasion Crosbie ignored the necessity altogether, and gave up his mind to the consideration of what it might be expedient that he should say to Lily before he went.

And as he gave his arm to Lily outside the church-door, he shrugged his shoulders while making that reflection. “It is too late now,” he said to himself; and then turned round and made some sweet little loving speech to her.

Adolphus Crosbie was a clever man; and he meant also to be a true man⁠—if only the temptations to falsehood might not be too great for him.

“Lily,” he said to her, “will you walk in the fields after lunch?”

He had begun by declaring that he would tell her all; but sometimes it is not easy, that task of telling a person everything.

There are things which will not get themselves told.

“You mean, dearest,” said she, “that you cannot afford to marry at once.”

“Yes; that is it. I had expected that I should be able, but—”

Did any man in love ever yet find himself able to tell the lady whom he loved that he was very much disappointed on discovering that she had got no money?

If so, his courage, I should say, was greater than his love. Crosbie found himself unable to do it, and thought himself cruelly used because of the difficulty.

“She isn’t ill,” said Bernard. “

She never is ill; but then she is never well.

”

I do not know that the two girls were at all more inclined to eat and drink than the two men; but they understood that Mrs. Eames would be brokenhearted if no one partook of her delicacies.

The little sacrifices of society are all made by women, as are also the great sacrifices of life.

A man who is good for anything is always ready for his duty, and so is a good woman always ready for a sacrifice.

and so believing could hardly bring herself to bear the injury. Such was her nature, as a Dale.

And let it be remembered that very many who can devote themselves for great sacrifices, cannot bring themselves to the endurance of little injuries.

Lily could have given up any gratification for her lover, but she could not allow herself to have been in the wrong, believing herself to have been in the right.

Crosbie would have had her acknowledge herself wrong, and would have delighted in the privilege of forgiving her.

But Lily Dale was one who did not greatly relish forgiveness, or any necessity of being forgiven.

So they rode on, if not in silence, without much joy in their conversation. It was now late on the Monday afternoon, and Crosbie was to go early on the Wednesday morning.

Why had he subjected himself to this numbing weakness? His love had never given him any pleasure. Indeed he had never hitherto acknowledged it; but now he was driven to do so on finding it to be the source of trouble and pain.

I think it is open to us to doubt whether, even yet, Bernard Dale was in love with his cousin; whether he was not rather in love with his own desire.

But against himself he found a verdict that he was in love, and was angry with himself and with all the world.

In very truth he had never promised to do so. He was in no way bound to her, not even by honour. Honour, indeed, with such as her!

But men are cowards before women until they become tyrants; and are easy dupes, till of a sudden they recognize the fact that it is pleasanter to be the victimizer than the victim⁠—and as easy.

There are men, indeed, who never learn the latter lesson.

… would have thought it the greatest blessing in the world to be shut up in a room with Crosbie, having permission to fight with him till one of them should have been brought by stress of battle to give up his claim to Lily Dale.

Eames was no coward. He feared no man on earth. But he was terribly afraid of Amelia Roper.

He wandered about through the old Manor woods very ill at ease. The post from Guestwick went out at seven, and he must at once make up his mind whether or no he would write to Amelia on that day.

It may, however, here be fair to mention that game very often came from Guestwick Manor to Mrs. Eames. “And look here, cold pheasant for breakfast is the best thing I know of.

Pheasants at dinner are rubbish⁠—mere rubbish.

Here we are at the house. Will you come in and have a glass of wine?”

Last days are wretched days; and so are last moments wretched moments.

It is not the fact that the parting is coming which makes these days and moments so wretched, but the feeling that something special is expected from them, which something they always fail to produce.

I want to be with you at once that I may be of service to you. Would that you and I were alone together, that I might do everything for you.

I sometimes think that a very poor man’s wife is the happiest, because she does do everything.

”

I think that Lily was wrong to come up on that last morning; but she would not hear of letting him start without seeing him, when her lover had begged her not to put herself to so much trouble.

Trouble! Would she not have sat up all night to see even the last of the top of his hat?

Then Bernard, muttering something about the horse, went away. “I have only one minute to speak to you,” said she, jumping up, “and I have been thinking all night of what I had to say.

Then Bernard, muttering something about the horse, went away. “I have only one minute to speak to you,” said she, jumping up, “and I have been thinking all night of what I had to say.

It is so easy to think, and so hard to speak.

”

and, to tell the truth plainly, had made himself so generally troublesome to his father, that he had been on more than one occasion threatened with expulsion from the family roof. But it is not easy to expel a son.

Human fledglings cannot be driven out of the nest like young birds.

An Honourable John turned adrift into absolute poverty will make himself heard of in the world—if in no other way, by his ugliness as he starves.

It had not always been so with the Lady Rosina; but her eyes had been opened by the wife of a great church dignitary in the neighbourhood, and she had undergone regeneration.

How great may be the misery inflicted by an energetic, unmarried, healthy woman in that condition⁠—a woman with no husband, or children, or duties, to distract her from her work⁠—I pray that my readers may never know.

The Lady Margaretta was her mother’s favourite, and she was like her mother in all things—except that her mother had been a beauty. The world called her proud, disdainful, and even insolent;

That her forehead, and nose, and cheeks, and chin were well-formed, no man could deny. Her hair was soft and plentiful. Her teeth were good, and her eyes were long and oval.

But the fault of her face was this⁠—that when you left her you could not remember it.

After a first acquaintance you could meet her again and not know her. After many meetings you would fail to carry away with you any portrait of her features. But such as she had been at twenty, such was she now at thirty.

It was of no use for him to tell himself that the Small House at Allington was better than Courcy Castle.

Satan knew that heaven was better than hell; but he found himself to be fitter for the latter place.

Crosbie ridiculed Lady Dumbello, even there among her friends, with all the cutting words that his wit could find; but, nevertheless, the privilege of staying in the same house with her was dear to him.

Then came these tidings of the little girl down at Allington. She felt no anger against Crosbie. To be angry on such a subject would be futile, foolish, and almost indecorous.

It was a part of the game which was as natural to her as fielding is to a cricketer.

One cannot have it all winnings at any game. Whether Crosbie should eventually become her own son-in-law or not it came to her naturally, as a part of her duty in life, to bowl down the stumps of that young lady at Allington.

It takes some time before a man can do this. He has to struggle with himself in a very uncomfortable way, making efforts which are often unsuccessful.

It is sometimes easier to lift a couple of hundredweights than to raise a few thoughts in one’s mind which at other moments will come galloping in without a whistle.

He had just written the date of his letter when a little tap came at his door, and it was opened.

“But you may explain to her that it is her duty to give such a proposal much thought before it is absolutely refused.

A girl either is in love or she is not.

If she is, she is ready to jump down a man’s throat; and that was the case with Lily.”

So he did, though he seldom spoke to her with much show of special regard, and never was soft and tender with her. But, on the other hand, he did not now love her the less because she opposed his wishes.

He was a constant, undemonstrative man, given rather to brooding than to thinking; harder in his words than in his thoughts, with more of heart than others believed, or than he himself knew; but, above all, he was a man who having once desired a thing would desire it always.

Mrs. Dale, when she was left alone, began to turn over the question in her mind in a much fuller manner than the squire’s presence had as yet made possible for her.

Perhaps in no career has a man to work harder for what he earns, or to do more work without earning anything.

It has sometimes seemed to me as though the young doctors and the old doctors had agreed to divide between them the different results of their profession⁠—the young doctors doing all the work and the old doctors taking all the money.

If this be so it may account for that appearance of premature gravity which is borne by so many of the medical profession. Under such an arrangement a man may be excused for a desire to put away childish things very early in life.

In her eyes, and to her ears, and to her heart, the letter was a beautiful letter.

I believe there is no bliss greater than that which a thorough love-letter gives to a girl who knows that in receiving it she commits no fault⁠—who can open it before her father and mother with nothing more than the slight blush which the consciousness of her position gives her.

And of all love-letters the first must be the sweetest! What a value there is in every word! How each expression is scanned and turned to the best account!

“Shall we go into the drawing-room?” she said, feeling that she would be in some degree safer there than out among the shrubs and paths of the garden. And I think she was right in this.

A man will talk of love out among the lilacs and roses, who would be stricken dumb by the demure propriety of the four walls of a drawing-room.

John Eames also had some feeling of this kind, for he determined to remain out in the garden, if he could so manage it.

He had knocked his head against the stout timber, which was strong enough to oppose him, but was dismayed by the brambles which he might have trodden under foot without an effort.

How many of us are like the bull, turning away conquered by opposition which should be as nothing to us, and breaking our feet, and worse still, our hearts, against rocks of adamant.

The bull at last made up his mind that he did not dare to face the hedge; so he gave one final roar, and then turning himself round, walked placidly back amidst the herd.

Expressions of love were not wanting, but they were vague and without heartiness. They savoured of insincerity, though there was nothing in the words themselves to convict them.

Few liars can lie with the full roundness and self-sufficiency of truth; and Crosbie, bad as he was, had not yet become bad enough to reach that perfection.

He had said nothing to Lily of the hopes of promotion which had been opened to him; but he had again spoken of his own worldliness—acknowledging that he received an unsatisfying satisfaction from the pomps and vanities of Courcy Castle.

who had so loved him, that, as he himself felt, her love would fashion all her future life either for weal or for woe? “I am unworthy of her, and will tell her so,” he said to himself.

How many a false hound of a man has endeavoured to salve his own conscience by such mock humility?

But he acknowledged at this moment, as he rose from his seat to dress himself, that the die was cast, and that it was open to him now to say what he pleased to Lady Alexandrina.

He strove also diligently to become a linguist—not without success, as far as a competent understanding of various languages.

He was a thin-minded, plodding, respectable man, willing to devote all his youth to work, in order that in old age he might be allowed to sit among the Councillors of the State.

Hitherto his name had not been coupled by the world with that of any woman whom he had been supposed to admire; but latterly it had been observed that he had often been seen in the same room with Lady Dumbello.

I shall be just an hour and a half myself. No, thank you, I never take any wine in the morning.” And I may here state that Mr. Palliser did get away by the 3:45 train, leaving Mr. Growdy still talking on the platform.

Constituents must be treated with respect; but time has become so scarce nowadays that that respect has to be meted out by the quarter of an hour with parsimonious care.

In the meantime there was more leisure at Courcy Castle. Neither the countess nor Lady Alexandrina came down to breakfast, but their absence gave rise to no special remark.

“You shouldn’t care for that, if he don’t bite. He used to gnash them at me; and when I had to ask him for money I didn’t like it; but now I don’t mind him a bit.

He threw the peerage at me one day, but it didn’t go within a yard of my head.

”

And she reproached herself, probably without reason, in that she had brought much of this upon herself. In former days the earl had been constantly away from home, and the countess had complained.

Like many other women she had not known when she was well off.

She had complained, urging upon her lord that he should devote more of his time to his own hearth.

“

Reform! He’s over forty, and when I last saw him he looked nearly sixty.

There;—you may answer his letter; I won’t.”

“Only this—that your house will be his house, and will be full without me.

A daughter’s marriage is always a painful parting.

”

It was as though he were going to bury himself alive. Now that it was out of his reach, he thought of it as a paradise upon earth. And then he considered what sort of a paradise Lady Alexandrina would make for him.

It was astonishing how ugly was the Lady Alexandrina, how old, how graceless, how destitute of all pleasant charm, seen through the spectacles which he wore at the present moment.

During his first hour at the office he did nothing. One or two of the younger clerks came in and congratulated him with much heartiness. He was popular at his office, and they had got a step by his promotion.

When Mr. Butterwell heard, as he often did hear, of the difficulty which an English gentleman has of earning his bread in his own country, he was wont to look back on his own career with some complacency.

He knew that he had not given the world much; yet he had received largely, and no one had begrudged it to him.

“Tact,” Mr. Butterwell used to say to himself, as he walked along the paths of his Putney villa. “Tact. Tact. Tact.”

He could take no joy in his promotion. When Pratt left him he tried to lighten his heart. He endeavoured to throw Lily and her wrongs behind him, and fix his thoughts on his advancing successes in life; but he could not do it.

A self-imposed trouble will not allow itself to be banished.

If a man lose a thousand pounds by a friend’s fault, or by a turn in the wheel of fortune, he can, if he be a man, put his grief down and trample it under foot;

The Daily Jupiter, a fortnight since, had published a very eloquent article, strongly advocating the claims of Mr. Optimist, and was naturally pleased to find that its advice had been taken.

Has not an obedient Minister a right to the praise of those powers which he obeys?

Mr. Optimist was, in truth, an industrious little gentleman, very well connected, who had served the public all his life, and who was, at any rate, honest in his dealings. Nor was he a bully, such as his predecessor.

Butterwell regulated his conduct; and as he was solicitous that the villa should be as comfortable a home to his wife as to himself, and that it should be specially comfortable to his friends, I do not think that we need quarrel with his creed.

Mr. Optimist believed in everything, but especially he believed in the Prime Minister, in the Daily Jupiter, in the General Committee Office, and in himself.

He had long thought that everything was nearly right; but now that he himself was chairman at the General Committee Office, he was quite sure that everything must be right. In Sir Raffle Buffle, indeed, he had never believed;

At half-past seven he found himself at Sebright’s, and there he dined.

A man will dine, even though his heart be breaking.

Then he got into a cab, and had himself taken home to Mount Street. During his walk he had sworn to himself that he would not go to bed that night till the letter was written and posted.

To tell the truth, it was Lord De Guest; the queerest fellow, Caudle, you ever met in your life; but such a trump. I’ve got to go and dine with him at Christmas.” And then the old story of the bull was told.

“I wish I could find a lord in a field with a bull,” said Cradell.

We may, however, be permitted to doubt whether Mr. Cradell would have earned a watch even if he had had his wish.

The words were stopped, but she was again upon his shoulder. What was he to do? In truth, his only wish was to escape, and yet his arm, quite in opposition to his own desires, found its way round her waist.

In such a combat a woman has so many points in her favour!

“Oh, Johnny,” she said again, as soon as she felt the pressure of his arm. “Gracious, what a beautiful watch you’ve got,” and she took the trinket out of his pocket. “Did you buy that?”

She felt that if he were present she could almost fly at him as would a tigress. She had never hated before as she now hated this man. He was to her a murderer, and worse than a murderer.

He had made his way like a wolf into her little fold, and torn her ewe-lamb and left her maimed and mutilated for life.

How could a mother forgive such an offence as that, or consent to be the medium through which forgiveness should be expressed?

“What punishment is there, then? I know of none. There are evils which a man may do, and no one can punish him. I know of nothing. I went up to London after him, but he contrived to crawl out of my way.

What can you do to a rat but keep clear of him?

”

In answer to this Mrs. Dale could say nothing. She could not speak out her thoughts about Crosbie, and explain to Lily that he was unworthy of her love.

Love does not follow worth, and is not given to excellence;⁠—nor is it destroyed by ill-usage, nor killed by blows and mutilation.

When Lily declared that she still loved the man who had so ill-used her, Mrs. Dale would be silent. Each perfectly understood the other, but on that matter even they could not interchange their thoughts with freedom.

For myself I believe him to have been altogether wrong as to the light in which he supposed that Crosbie’s falsehood would be regarded by Crosbie’s friends.

Men will still talk of such things lightly, professing that all is fair in love as it is in war, and speaking almost with envy of the good fortunes of a practised deceiver.

But I have never come across the man who thought in this way with reference to an individual case. Crosbie’s own judgment as to the consequences to himself of what he had done was more correct than that formed by Bernard Dale.

He knew that he had been a scoundrel, and he knew that other men would so think of him. His friend Fowler Pratt, who had the reputation of looking at women simply as toys, had so regarded him.

Instead of boasting of what he had done, he was as afraid of alluding to any matter connected with his marriage as a man is of talking of the articles which he has stolen.

He had already felt that men at his club looked askance at him; and, though he was no coward as regarded his own skin and bones, he had an undefined fear lest some day he might encounter Bernard Dale purposely armed with a stick.

Mortimer was sent to fetch him up for the Sunday afternoons, and he found that he was constrained to go to the villa in St. John’s Wood, even in opposition to his own most strenuous will.

He could not quite analyze the circumstances of his own position, but he felt as though he were a cock with his spurs cut off⁠—as a dog with his teeth drawn.

He found himself becoming humble and meek. He had to acknowledge to himself that he was afraid of Lady Amelia, and almost even afraid of Mortimer Gazebee. He was aware that they watched him, and knew all his goings out and comings in.

“We shall be all alone,” the countess wrote to him, “and I hope you will have an opportunity of learning more of our ways than you have ever really been able to do as yet.” This was bitter as gall to him.

But in this world all valuable commodities have their price; and when men such as Crosbie aspire to obtain for themselves an alliance with noble families, they must pay the market price for the article which they purchase.

“You’ll all come up and dine with us on Monday,” the squire said to Mrs. Dale, about the middle of the previous week.

But Lily, though she put on it all so brave a face, had much to suffer, and did in truth suffer greatly.

If you, my reader, ever chanced to slip into the gutter on a wet day, did you not find that the sympathy of the bystanders was by far the severest part of your misfortune?

Did you not declare to yourself that all might yet be well, if the people would only walk on and not look at you? And yet you cannot blame those who stood and pitied you;

“Say it to the squire, then. Go to him, and tell him what you mean—holding your head up like a man.

Don’t talk to me about swells. The man who means honestly is the best swell I know. He’s the only swell I recognize.

Go to old Dale, and say you come from me—from Guestwick Manor. Tell him that if he’ll put a little stick under the pot to make it boil, I’ll put a bigger one. He’ll understand what that means.”

I daresay you’re right about not speaking to the girl just at present. But tell everything to the uncle, and then to the mother. And, above all things, never think that you’re not good enough yourself. A man should never think that.

My belief is that in life people will take you very much at your own reckoning.

If you are made of dirt, like that fellow Crosbie, you’ll be found out at last, no doubt. But then I don’t think you are made of dirt.”

There are certain maladies which make the whole body sore. The patient, let him be touched on any point—let him even be nearly touched—will roar with agony as though his whole body had been bruised. So it is also with maladies of the mind.

Sorrows such as that of poor Lily’s leave the heart sore at every point, and compel the sufferer to be ever in fear of new wounds.

Lily bore her cross bravely and well; but not the less did it weigh heavily upon her at every turn because she had the strength to walk as though she did not bear it.

So it is also with maladies of the mind. Sorrows such as that of poor Lily’s leave the heart sore at every point, and compel the sufferer to be ever in fear of new wounds.

Lily bore her cross bravely and well; but not the less did it weigh heavily upon her at every turn because she had the strength to walk as though she did not bear it.

Nothing happened to her, or in her presence, that did not in some way connect itself with her misery. Her uncle was going over to meet John Eames at Lord De Guest’s.

“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?”

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.

John’s Wood. They always dined at five on Sundays, having some idea that by doing so they kept the Sabbath better than they would have done had they dined at seven.

If keeping the Sabbath consists in going to bed early, or is in any way assisted by such a practice, they were right.

To the cook that semi-early dinner might perhaps be convenient, as it gave her an excuse for not going to church in the afternoon, as the servants’ and children’s dinner gave her a similar excuse in the morning.

“So do I of mine,” said Crosbie. “That’s natural to all of us.

One of my ancestors came over with William the Conqueror. I think he was one of the assistant cooks in the king’s tent.

”

It is that same “majesty which doth hedge a king” that does it.

The turkey-cock in his own farmyard is master of the occasion, and the thought of him creates fear.

A bishop in his lawn, a judge on the bench, a chairman in the big room at the end of a long table, or a policeman with his bull’s-eye lamp upon his beat, can all make themselves terrible by means of those appanages of majesty …

… judge on the bench, a chairman in the big room at the end of a long table, or a policeman with his bull’s-eye lamp upon his beat, can all make themselves terrible by means of those appanages of majesty which have been vouchsafed to them.

But how mean is the policeman in his own home, and how few thought much of Sir Raffle Buffle as he sat asleep after dinner in his old slippers!

How well can I remember the terror created within me by the air of outraged dignity with which a certain fine old gentleman, now long since gone, could rub his hands slowly, one on the other, and look up to the ceiling, slightly shaking his …

“

And should not a mother be jealous of her children’s love?

”

“

What, begin again at near seventy! No, Mary, there is no more beginning again for me.

All this shall make no difference to the girls. As long as I am here they shall have the house. If they marry, I will do for them what I can.

The squire also had thought of what had passed between them, and had suffered much as he had done so; but he had thought of it without acerbity or anger.

His thoughts were ever gentler than his words, and his heart softer than any exponent of his heart that he was able to put forth.

He wished to love his brother’s children, and to be loved by them; but even failing that, he wished to do good to them. It had not occurred to him to be angry with Mrs. Dale after that interview was over.

Dr. Crofts had come over and pronounced as a fact that it was scarlatina.

Village apothecaries are generally wronged by the doubts which are thrown upon them, for the town doctors when they come always confirm what the village apothecaries have said.

“There can be no doubt as to its being scarlatina,” the doctor declared; “but the symptoms are all favourable.”

“What do you mean, Dr. Crofts?

How I do hate those words, ‘an excellent marriage.’ In them is contained more of wicked worldliness than any other words that one ever hears spoken.

You want me to marry my cousin simply because I should have a great house to live in, and a coach. I know that you are my friend; but I hate such friendship as that.”

“No, I don’t misunderstand you. Of course it would be an excellent marriage, if we loved each other.

You might say the same if I loved the butcher or the baker.

What you mean is, that it makes a reason for loving him.”

But there are other cases in which a lover cannot make himself known as such without great difficulty, and when he does do so, cannot hope for an immediate answer in his favour.

It is hard upon old friends that this difficulty should usually fall the heaviest upon them.

Crofts had been so intimate with the Dale family that very many persons had thought it probable that he would marry one of the girls. Mrs. Dale herself had thought so, and had almost hoped it. Lily had certainly done both.

Indeed, having no one at hand to congratulate him, he was quite sure that the bird had flown away uninjured into the next field.

“No” was the only word which Bell had given in answer to his last sidelong question, and No is not a comfortable word to lovers.

But there had been that in Bell’s No which might have taught him that the bird was not escaping without a wound, if he had still had any of his wits about him.

who was as sound as the other man had proved himself to be rotten. A smile came across her face as she sat looking at the fire, thinking of this.

A man had loved her, whose love was worth possessing.

She hardly remembered whether or no she had refused him or accepted him. She hardly asked herself what she would do. As to all that it was necessary that she should have many thoughts, but the necessity did not press upon her quite immediately.

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?

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.

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!

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.

But Amelia, who had more presence of mind than her mother, stopped Jemima as she was making to one of the front windows. “Keep where you are,” said Amelia. “They’ll come quiet in a minute or two.” And Amelia no doubt was right.

Calling for the police when there is a row in the house is like summoning the water-engines when the soot is on fire in the kitchen chimney.

In such cases good management will allow the soot to burn itself out, without aid from the water-engines.

They had all thought him to be a great fool for running away with Mrs. Lupex, but now they were beginning to think him a poor creature because he had not done so.

Had he committed that active folly he would have been an interesting fool.

But now, if, as they all suspected, he knew no more about Mrs. Lupex than they did, he would be a fool without any special interest whatever.

“Yes; and then have all her bills following you, wherever you went,” said Amelia’s brother.

“I’d sooner have her bills than herself,” said Eames.

“My belief is, that she’s been an ill-used woman,” said Cradell. “If she had a husband that she could respect and have loved, and all that sort of thing, she would have been a charming woman.”

She would have known whether or no she loved the man, or could love him, and would have given him some true and intelligible answer.

Bell had not done so, but had given him an answer which, if true, was not intelligible, and if intelligible was not true.

And yet, when she had gone away to think over what had passed, she had been happy and satisfied, and almost triumphant. She had never yet asked herself whether she expected anything further from Dr.

“That’s why I do like them, because they are so sweet.

A sermon is not to tell you what you are, but what you ought to be, and a novel should tell you not what you are to get, but what you’d like to get.

”

“It may be that she’s right,” he said to himself; “and, at any rate, I’ll ask again.” Nevertheless, that “No” which Bell had spoken, and had repeated, still sounded in his ears harsh and conclusive.

There are men to whom a peal of noes rattling about their ears never takes the sound of a true denial, and others to whom the word once pronounced, be it whispered ever so softly, comes as though it were an unchangeable verdict from the supreme judgment-seat.

Who, then, at the present time, could judiciously risk his credit by declaring whether Mr. Palliser understood his subject or did not understand it?

We are not content in looking to our newspapers for all the information that earth and human intellect can afford; but we demand from them what we might demand if a daily sheet could come to us from the world of spirits.

The result, of course, is this—that the papers do pretend that they have come daily from the world of spirits; but the oracles are very doubtful, as were those of old.

As it was, he certainly had found the task difficult, down in the country, though he had heard of men of his class doing the same sort of thing all his life.

For my own part, I believe that the reputed sinners are much more numerous than the sinners.

As he sat there, a certain Mr. Fothergill came in upon him. Mr. Fothergill was a gentleman who managed most of his uncle’s ordinary affairs—a clever fellow, who knew on which side his bread was buttered. Mr.

“Of course you do; of course we all hope it. He was not cold-hearted, at any rate.

A man is not cold-hearted, because he does not know himself.

Mamma, I want you to wish for their happiness.”

“

I’d sooner be an honest woman.

”

“Over! What a word that is!

A thing like that is over, and then all the world cannot put it back again.

What if he should be unhappy after all?”

“I hate books I can’t understand,” said Bell. “

I like a book to be clear as running water, so that the whole meaning may be seen at once.

”

“I won’t be regarded as ill-used; not as specially ill-used. But I am your darling, your own darling. Only I wish you’d beat me and thump me when I’m such a fool, instead of pitying me.

It’s a great mistake being soft to people when they make fools of themselves.

There, Bell; there’s your stupid book, and I won’t have any more of it. I believe it was that that did it.” And she pushed the book away from her.

The rooms at the Folkestone hotel must be large, and on the first floor. A carriage must be hired for her use while she remained; but every shilling must be saved the spending of which would not make itself apparent to the outer world.

Oh, deliver us from the poverty of those who, with small means, affect a show of wealth! There is no whitening equal to that of sepulchres whited as they are whited!

By the proper administration of a slight bribe Crosbie secured for himself and his wife a compartment in the railway carriage to themselves.

and who can be so thoroughly justified in following that advice as a newly-married husband? So he put out his hand for hers and drew her closer to him.

“Take care of my bonnet,” she said, as she felt the motion of the railway carriage when he kissed her.

I don’t think he kissed her again till he had landed her and her bonnet safely at Folkestone.

He would have a comfortable armchair, and if Alexandrina should become a mother, he would endeavour to love his children; but above all things he would never think of Lily.

After that he stood and thought of her for half an hour.

“If you please, sir, my lady wants to know at what time you have ordered dinner.”

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.

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.

“

There is more head than heart in it.

”

“Oh, dear, what should I do if I were to break it?

Whenever I handle anything very precious I always feel inclined to throw it down and smash it.

Oh! it was as nearly gone as possible, mamma; but that was your fault.”

Death would create no sorrow; ingratitude would lose its sting; and the betrayal of love would do no injury beyond that which it might entail upon worldly circumstances.

But the heart is not malleable; nor will the feelings admit of such control.

“It is not possible for her,” said Mrs. Dale. “I fear it is not possible. It is too soon.”

If, also, he could have perceived and understood the light in which an alliance with the De Courcy family was now regarded by Crosbie, I think that he would have received some consolation from that consideration.

Those who offend us are generally punished for the offence they give; but we so frequently miss the satisfaction of knowing that we are avenged!

It is arranged, apparently, that the injurer shall be punished, but that the person injured shall not gratify his desire for vengeance.

Roper’s drawing-room. If destiny had in store for him such good fortune as that of calling Lily his own, it was necessary that he should altogether alter his mode of life.

In truth his hobbledehoyhood was dropping off from him, as its old skin drops from a snake.

Much of the feeling and something of the knowledge of manhood was coming on him, and he was beginning to recognize to himself that the future manner of his life must be to him a matter of very serious concern.

That excitement your sons will have, and if it be not provided by you of one kind, will certainly be provided by themselves of another kind.

If I were a mother sending lads out into the world, the matter most in my mind would be this⁠—to what houses full of nicest girls could I get them admission, so that they might do their flirting in good company.

Poor John Eames had been so placed that he had been driven to do his flirting in very bad company, and he was now fully aware that it had been so.

They expect from them when boys the discretion of men—that discretion which comes from thinking; but will not give them credit for any of that power of thought which alone can ultimately produce good conduct.

Young men are generally thoughtful⁠—more thoughtful than their seniors; but the fruit of their thought is not as yet there.

And then so little is done for the amusement of lads who are turned loose into London at nineteen or twenty.

I declare you’re always first. It’s to get a chance of having one of the young gentlemen to yourself, I believe. What’s the news in the city today, Mr. Eames? In your position now of course you hear all the news.”

“Sir Raffle Buffle has got a new pair of shoes. I don’t know that for certain, but I guess it from the time it took him to put them on.”

“Ah! now you’re quizzing. That’s always the way with you gentlemen when you get a little up in the world. You don’t think women are worth talking to then, unless just for a joke or so.”

But I am inclined to think that the fact of his having beaten Crosbie had been the most potential cause of this affection for our hero on the part of Lady Julia.

Ladies⁠—especially discreet old ladies, such as Lady Julia De Guest⁠—are bound to entertain pacific theories, and to condemn all manner of violence.

Lady Julia would have blamed anyone who might have advised Eames to commit an assault upon Crosbie.

“If he finds his way down here in September, Master Johnny, or in any other month either, you may fit my head with a foolscap. Not remember, indeed!

Is it not wonderful that any man should make himself so mean a fool?

” All this was thought over again, as Eames leaned upon the bridge. He remembered every word, and remembered many other words—earlier words, spoken years ago, filling him with desolation as to the prospects of his life.

I knows him as I does the old apple-trees that I’ve been a-handling for forty year. There’s a deal of bad wood about them old cankered trees, and some folk say they ain’t worth the ground they stand on; but

I know where the sap runs, and when the fruit-blossom shows itself I know where the fruit will be the sweetest.

It don’t take much to kill one of them old trees—but there’s life in ’m yet if they be well handled.”

Nothing, indeed, was said which had any bearing on anything. The earl’s professed object had been to bring the squire and young Eames together; but people are never brought together on such melancholy occasions.

Though they sip their port in close contiguity, they are poles asunder in their minds and feelings.

When the Guestwick fly came for Mrs. Eames, and the parson’s pony phaeton came for him and Mrs. Boyce, a great relief was felt; but the misery of those who were left had gone too far to allow of any reaction on that evening.

“It would do you good,” said Mrs. Dale.

“I don’t want to be done good to, mamma. Besides, I should have to come back by myself.”

“I’ll come back with you,” said Johnny.

“Keep to it as to a great treasure. It will be a joy to you in after years, and not a sorrow.

To have loved truly, even though you shall have loved in vain, will be a consolation when you are as old as I am. It is something to have had a heart.

”

But if he gave up them and their ways, what else would then be left to him? He had come, therefore, and now stood alone, sullen, in a corner, telling himself that all was vanity.

Yes; to the vain all will be vanity; and to the poor of heart all will be poor.

Lady Dumbello was there in a small inner room, seated on a couch to which she had been brought on her first arrival at the house, and on which she would remain till she departed.

She would have known how to fill a larger couch even than that—as she would have known, also, how to make room—had it been her mind to do so. So he stood still over her, and she smiled at him.

Such a smile! It was cold as death, flattering no one, saying nothing, hideous in its unmeaning, unreal grace.

Ah! how I hate the smile of a woman who smiles by rote! It made Mr. Palliser feel very uncomfortable;—but he did not analyze it, and persevered.

So he stood still over her, and she smiled at him. Such a smile! It was cold as death, flattering no one, saying nothing, hideous in its unmeaning, unreal grace.

Ah! how I hate the smile of a woman who smiles by rote!

It made Mr. Palliser feel very uncomfortable;—but he did not analyze it, and persevered.

“I know you are; but pray believe me that you need not be alarmed.

I do not mean to be unhappy. Indeed, I think I may say I am not unhappy; of course I have been unhappy⁠—very unhappy.

I did think that my heart would break. But that has passed away, and I believe I can be as happy as my neighbours. We’re all of us sure to have some troubles, as you used to tell us when we were children.”

I was his own. That has been changed—to my great misfortune; but it cannot be undone or forgotten. I cannot be the girl I was before he came here.

There are things that will not have themselves buried and put out of sight, as though they had never been.

I am as you are, mamma—widowed. But you have your daughter, and I have my mother. If you will be contented, so will I.” Then she got up and threw herself on her mother’s neck.

“I don’t believe she’s got no headache at all,” said Hopkins, grumbling, as he returned through the back premises. “What lies gentlefolks do tell! If I said I’d a headache when I ought to be out among the things, what would they say to me?

But a poor man mustn’t never lie, nor yet drink, nor yet do nothing.

” And so he went back with his message.

remembering every little thought and word of those few eventful months in which she had learned to regard Crosbie as her husband and master. She had declared that she had conquered her unhappiness; but there were moments in which she was almost wild with misery.

“Tell me to forget him!” she said. “It is the one thing which will never be forgotten.”

At last she heard her mother’s step coming down across the squire’s garden, and she took up her post at the bridge.

As she went round and round the gravel paths, she thought of the words that she had said to her mother. She had declared that she also was widowed. “And so it should be,” she said, debating the matter with herself. “

What can a heart be worth if it can be transferred hither and thither as circumstances and convenience and comfort may require?

When he held me here in his arms”—and, as the thoughts ran through her brain, she remembered the very spot on which they had stood—“oh, my love!” she had said to him then as she returned his kisses—“oh, my love, my love, my love!”