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

all-in-all partnership? Had the priest, with his blessing, done it so sufficiently that no other doing on Crosbie’s own part was necessary? There she was, opposite to him, his very actual wife⁠—bone of his bone; and what was he to say to her? As he settled himself on his seat, taking over his own knees a part of a fine fur rug trimmed with scarlet, with which he had covered her other mufflings, he bethought himself how much easier it would have been to talk to Lily. And Lily would have been ready with all her ears, and all her mind, and all her wit, to enter quickly upon whatever thoughts had occurred to him. In that respect Lily would have been a wife indeed⁠—a wife that would have transferred herself with quick mental activity into her husband’s mental sphere. Had he begun about his office Lily would have been ready for him, but Alexandrina had never yet asked him a single question about his official life. Had he been prepared with a plan for tomorrow’s happiness Lily would have taken it up eagerly, but Alexandrina never cared for such trifles.

“Are you quite comfortable?” he said, at last.

“Oh, yes, quite, thank you. By the by, what did you do with my dressing-case?”

And that question she did ask with some energy.

“It is under you. You can have it as footstool if you like it.”

“Oh, no; I should scratch it. I was afraid that if Hannah had it, it might be lost.” Then again there was silence, and Crosbie again considered as to what he would next say to his wife.

We all know the advice given us of old as to what we should do under such circumstances; 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. How often would he have kissed Lily, and how pretty would her bonnet have been when she reached the end of her journey, and how delightfully happy would she have looked when she scolded him for bending it! But Alexandrina was quite in earnest about her bonnet; by far too much in earnest for any appearance of happiness.

So he sat without speaking, till the train came to the tunnel.

“I do so hate tunnels,” said Alexandrina.

He had half intended to put out his hand again, under some mistaken idea that the tunnel afforded him an opportunity. The whole journey was one long opportunity, had he desired it; but his wife hated tunnels, and so he drew his hand back again. Lily’s little fingers would have been ready for his touch. He thought of this, and could not help thinking of it.

He had The Times newspaper in his dressing-bag. She also had a novel with her. Would she be offended if he took out the paper and read it? The miles seemed to pass by very slowly, and there was still another hour down to Folkestone. He longed for his Times, but resolved at last that he would not read unless she read first. She also had remembered her novel; but by nature she was more patient than he, and she thought that on such a journey any reading might perhaps be almost improper. So she sat tranquilly, with her eyes fixed on the netting over her husband’s head.

At last he could stand it no longer, and he dashed off into a conversation, intended to be most affectionate and serious.

“Alexandrina,” he said, and his voice was well-tuned for the tender serious manner, had her ears been alive to such tuning. “Alexandrina, this is a very important step that you and I have taken today.”

“Yes; it is, indeed,” said she.

“I trust we shall succeed in making each other happy.”

“Yes; I hope we shall.”

“If we both think seriously of it, and remember that that is our chief duty, we shall do so.”

“Yes, I suppose we shall. I only hope we shan’t find the house very cold. It is so new, and I am so subject to colds in my head. Amelia says we shall find it very cold; but then she was always against our going there.”

“The house will do very well,” said Crosbie. And Alexandrina could perceive that there was something of the master in his tone as he spoke.

“I am only telling you what Amelia said,” she replied.

Had Lily been his bride, and had he spoken to her of their future life and mutual duties, how she would have kindled to the theme! She would have knelt at his feet on the floor of the carriage, and, looking up into his face, would have promised him to do her best⁠—her best⁠—her very best. And with what an eagerness of inward resolution would she have determined to keep her promise. He thought of all this now, but he knew that he ought not to think of it. Then, for some quarter of an hour, he did take out his newspaper, and she, when she saw him do so, did take out her novel.

He took out his newspaper, but he could not fix his mind upon the politics of the day. Had he not made a terrible mistake? Of what use to him in life would be that thing of a woman that sat opposite to him? Had not a great punishment come upon him, and had he not deserved the punishment? In truth, a great punishment had come upon him. It was not only that he had married a woman incapable of understanding the higher duties of married life, but that he himself would have been capable of appreciating the value of a woman who did understand them. He would have been happy with Lily Dale; and therefore we