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

and your children would be to me a great calamity, though, perhaps, they might be indifferent to it. But if there were such a quarrel it would afford no reason for their leaving that house. Let me beg you to think over the matter again.”

The squire could assume an air of authority on certain occasions, and he had done so now. Mrs. Dale found that she could only answer him by a simple repetition of her own intention; and, indeed, failed in making him any serviceable answer whatsoever.

“I know that you are very good to my girls,” she said.

“I will say nothing about that,” he answered; not thinking at that moment of the Small House, but of the full possession which he had desired to give to the elder of all the privileges which should belong to the mistress of Allington⁠—thinking also of the means by which he was hoping to repair poor Lily’s shattered fortunes. What words were further said had no great significance, and Mrs. Dale got herself away, feeling that she had failed. As soon as she was gone the squire arose, and putting on his greatcoat, went forth with his hat and stick to the front of the house. He went out in order that his thoughts might be more free, and that he might indulge in that solace which an injured man finds in contemplating his injury. He declared to himself that he was very hardly used⁠—so hardly used, that he almost began to doubt himself and his own motives. Why was it that the people around him disliked him so strongly⁠—avoided him and thwarted him in the efforts which he made for their welfare? He offered to his nephew all the privileges of a son⁠—much more indeed than the privileges of a son⁠—merely asking in return that he would consent to live permanently in the house which was to be his own. But his nephew refused. “He cannot bear to live with me,” said the old man to himself sorely. He was prepared to treat his nieces with more generosity than the daughters of the House of Allington had usually received from their fathers; and they repelled his kindness, running away from him, and telling him openly that they would not be beholden to him. He walked slowly up and down the terrace, thinking of this very bitterly. He did not find in the contemplation of his grievance all that solace which a grievance usually gives, because he accused himself in his thoughts rather than others. He declared to himself that he was made to be hated, and protested to himself that it would be well that he should die and be buried out of memory, so that the remaining Dales might have a better chance of living happily; and then as he thus discussed all this within his own bosom, his thoughts were very tender, and though he was aggrieved, he was most affectionate to those who had most injured him. But it was absolutely beyond his power to reproduce outwardly, with words and outward signs, such thoughts and feelings.

It was now very nearly the end of the year, but the weather was still soft and open. The air was damp rather than cold, and the lawns and fields still retained the green tints of new vegetation. As the squire was walking on the terrace Hopkins came up to him, and touching his hat, remarked that they should have frost in a day or two.

“I suppose we shall,” said the squire.

“We must have the mason to the flues of that little grape-house, sir, before I can do any good with a fire there.”

“Which grape-house?” said the squire, crossly.

“Why, the grape-house in the other garden, sir. It ought to have been done last year by rights.” This Hopkins said to punish his master for being cross to him. On that matter of the flues of Mrs. Dale’s grape-house he had, with much consideration, spared his master during the last winter, and he felt that this ought to be remembered now. “I can’t put any fire in it, not to do any real good, till something’s done. That’s sure.”

“Then don’t put any fire in it,” said the squire.

Now the grapes in question were supposed to be peculiarly fine, and were the glory of the garden of the Small House. They were always forced, though not forced so early as those at the Great House, and Hopkins was in a state of great confusion.

“They’ll never ripen, sir; not the whole year through.”

“Then let them be unripe,” said the squire, walking about.

Hopkins did not at all understand it. The squire in his natural course was very unwilling to neglect any such matter as this, but would be specially unwilling to neglect anything touching the Small House. So Hopkins stood on the terrace, raising his hat and scratching his head. “There’s something wrong amongst them,” said he to himself, sorrowfully.

But when the squire had walked to the end of the terrace and had turned upon the path which led round the side of the house, he stopped and called to Hopkins.

“Have what is needful done to the flue,” he said.

“Yes, sir; very well, sir. It’ll only be resetting the bricks. Nothing more ain’t needful, just this winter.”

“Have the place put in perfect order while you’re about it,” said the squire, and then he walked away.

XXXIX Dr. Crofts Is Turned Out

“Have you heard the news, my dear, from the Small House?” said Mrs. Boyce to her husband, some two or three days after Mrs. Dale’s visit to the squire. It was one o’clock, and the parish pastor had come in from his ministrations to dine with his wife and children.

“What news?” said Mr. Boyce, for he had heard none.

“Mrs. Dale and the girls are going to leave the Small House; they’re going into Guestwick to live.”

“Mrs. Dale going away; nonsense!” said the vicar. “What on earth should take her into Guestwick? She doesn’t pay a shilling of rent where she is.”

“I can