The Small House at Allington, Anthony Trollope [best ebook reader for chromebook .txt] 📗

were all silent again for a few minutes. If Bernard could have owned the truth, he would have acknowledged that he had not gone up to London, because he did not yet know how to treat Crosbie when he should meet him. His thoughts on this matter threw some sort of shadow across poor Lily’s mind, making her feel that her wound was again opened.

“I want him to give up his profession altogether,” said the squire, speaking firmly and slowly. “It would be better, I think, for both of us that he should do so.”

“Would it be wise at his time of life,” said Mrs. Dale, “and when he has been doing so well?”

“I think it would be wise. If he were my son it would be thought better that he should live here upon the property, among the people who are to become his tenants, than remain up in London, or perhaps be sent to India. He has one profession as the heir of this place, and that, I think, should be enough.”

“I should have but an idle life of it down here,” said Bernard.

“That would be your own fault. But if you did as I would have you, your life would not be idle.” In this he was alluding to Bernard’s proposed marriage, but as to that nothing further could be said in Bell’s presence. Bell understood it all, and sat quite silent, with demure countenance;⁠—perhaps even with something of sternness in her face.

“But the fact is,” said Mrs. Dale, speaking in a low tone, and having well considered what she was about to say, “that Bernard is not exactly the same as your son.”

“Why not?” said the squire. “I have even offered to settle the property on him if he will leave the service.”

“You do not owe him so much as you would owe your son; and, therefore, he does not owe you as much as he would owe his father.”

“If you mean that I cannot constrain him, I know that well enough. As regards money, I have offered to do for him quite as much as any father would feel called upon to do for an only son.”

“I hope you don’t think me ungrateful,” said Bernard.

“No, I do not; but I think you unmindful. I have nothing more to say about it, however;⁠—not about that. If you should marry⁠—” And then he stopped himself, feeling that he could not go on in Bell’s presence.

“If he should marry,” said Mrs. Dale, “it may well be that his wife would like a house of her own.”

“Wouldn’t she have this house?” said the squire, angrily. “Isn’t it big enough? I only want one room for myself, and I’d give up that if it were necessary.”

“That’s nonsense,” said Mrs. Dale.

“It isn’t nonsense,” said the squire.

“You’ll be squire of Allington for the next twenty years,” said Mrs. Dale. “And as long as you are the squire, you’ll be master of this house; at least, I hope so. I don’t approve of monarchs abdicating in favour of young people.”

“I don’t think uncle Christopher would look at all well like Charles the Fifth,” said Lily.

“I would always keep a cell for you, my darling, if I did,” said the squire, regarding her with that painful, special tenderness. Lily, who was sitting next to Mrs. Dale, put her hand out secretly and got hold of her mother’s, thereby indicating that she did not intend to occupy the cell offered to her by her uncle; or to look to him as the companion of her monastic seclusion. After that there was nothing more then said as to Bernard’s prospects.

“Mrs. Hearn is dining at the vicarage, I suppose?” asked the squire.

“Yes; she went in after church,” said Bell. “I saw her go with Mrs. Boyce.”

“She told me she never would dine with them again after dark in winter,” said Mrs. Dale. “The last time she was there, the boy let the lamp blow out as she was going home, and she lost her way. The truth was, she was angry because Mr. Boyce didn’t go with her.”

“She’s always angry,” said the squire. “She hardly speaks to me now. When she paid her rent the other day to Jolliffe, she said she hoped it would do me much good; as though she thought me a brute for taking it.”

“So she does,” said Bernard.

“She’s very old, you know,” said Bell.

“I’d give her the house for nothing, if I were you, uncle,” said Lily.

“No, my dear; if you were me you would not. I should be very wrong to do so. Why should Mrs. Hearn have her house for nothing, any more than her meat or her clothes? It would be much more reasonable were I to give her so much money into her hand yearly; but it would be wrong in me to do so, seeing that she is not an object of charity;⁠—and it would be wrong in her to take it.”

“And she wouldn’t take it,” said Mrs. Dale.

“I don’t think she would. But if she did, I’m sure she would grumble because it wasn’t double the amount. And if Mr. Boyce had gone home with her, she would have grumbled because he walked too fast.”

“She is very old,” said Bell, again.

“But, nevertheless, she ought to know better than to speak disparagingly of me to my servants. She should have more respect for herself.” And the squire showed by the tone of his voice that he thought very much about it.

It was very long and very dull that Christmas evening, making Bernard feel strongly that he would be very foolish to give up his profession, and tie himself down to a life at Allington. Women are more accustomed than men to long, dull, unemployed hours; and, therefore, Mrs. Dale and her daughters bore the tedium courageously. While he yawned, stretched himself, and went in and out of the room, they sat demurely, listening as the squire laid down the law on small matters, and contradicting him occasionally when the spirit of either of them prompted her specially to do so. “Of