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

little dinner; but merely remarked that he should be very happy at some future day.

“And now, Lupex, suppose you get off to bed,” said his wife. “You’ve had a very trying day, you know.”

“And you, ducky?”

“I shall come presently. Now don’t be making a fool of yourself, but get yourself off. Come⁠—” and she stood close up against the open door, waiting for him to pass.

“I rather think I shall remain where I am, and have a glass of something hot,” said he.

“Lupex, do you want to aggravate me again?” said the lady, and she looked at him with a glance of her eye which he thoroughly understood. He was not in a humour for fighting, nor was he at present desirous of blood; so he resolved to go. But as he went he prepared himself for new battles. “I shall do something desperate, I am sure; I know I shall,” he said, as he pulled off his boots.

“Oh, Mr. Cradell,” said Mrs. Lupex as soon as she had closed the door behind her retreating husband, “how am I ever to look you in the face again after the events of these last memorable days?” And then she seated herself on the sofa, and hid her face in a cambric handkerchief.

“As for that,” said Cradell, “what does it signify⁠—among friends like us, you know?”

“But that it should be known at your office⁠—as of course it is, because of the gentleman that went down to him at the theatre!⁠—I don’t think I shall ever survive it.”

“You see I was obliged to send somebody, Mrs. Lupex.”

“I’m not finding fault, Mr. Cradell. I know very well that in my melancholy position I have no right to find fault, and I don’t pretend to understand gentlemen’s feelings towards each other. But to have had my name mentioned up with yours in that way is⁠—Oh! Mr. Cradell, I don’t know how I’m ever to look you in the face again.” And again she buried hers in her pocket-handkerchief.

“Handsome is as handsome does,” said Miss Spruce; and there was that in her tone of voice which seemed to convey much hidden meaning.

“Exactly so, Miss Spruce,” said Mrs. Lupex; “and that’s my only comfort at the present moment. Mr. Cradell is a gentleman who would scorn to take advantage⁠—I’m quite sure of that.” And then she did contrive to look at him over the edge of the hand which held the handkerchief.

“That I wouldn’t, I’m sure,” said Cradell. “That is to say⁠—” And then he paused. He did not wish to get into a scrape about Mrs. Lupex. He was by no means anxious to encounter her husband in one of his fits of jealousy. But he did like the idea of being talked of as the admirer of a married woman, and he did like the brightness of the lady’s eyes. When the unfortunate moth in his semi-blindness whisks himself and his wings within the flame of the candle, and finds himself mutilated and tortured, he even then will not take the lesson, but returns again and again till he is destroyed. Such a moth was poor Cradell. There was no warmth to be got by him from that flame. There was no beauty in the light⁠—not even the false brilliance of unhallowed love. Injury might come to him⁠—a pernicious clipping of the wings, which might destroy all power of future flight; injury, and not improbably destruction, if he should persevere. But one may say that no single hour of happiness could accrue to him from his intimacy with Mrs. 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. Cradell could make up his mind whether or no he would take advantage of the present opportunity for another dip into the flame of the candle⁠—in regard to which proceeding, however, he could not but feel that the presence of Miss Spruce was objectionable⁠—the door of the room was opened, and Amelia Roper joined the party.

“Oh, indeed; Mrs. Lupex,” she said. “And Mr. Cradell!”

“And Miss Spruce, my dear,” said Mrs. Lupex, pointing to the ancient lady.

“I’m only an old woman,” said Miss Spruce.

“Oh, yes; I see Miss Spruce,” said Amelia. “I was not hinting at anything, I can assure you.”

“I should think not, my dear,” said Mrs. Lupex.

“Only I didn’t know that you two were quite⁠—That is, when last I heard about it, I fancied⁠—But if the quarrel’s made up, there’s nobody more rejoiced than I am.”

“The quarrel is made up,” said Cradell.

“If Mr. Lupex is satisfied, I’m sure I am,” said Amelia.

“Mr. Lupex is satisfied,” said Mrs. Lupex; “and let me tell you, my dear, seeing that you are expecting to get married yourself⁠—”

“Mrs. Lupex, I’m not expecting to get married⁠—not particularly, by any means.”

“Oh, I thought you were. And let me tell you, that when you’ve got a husband of your own, you won’t find it so easy to keep everything straight. That’s the worst of these lodgings; if there is any little thing, everybody knows it. Don’t they, Miss Spruce?”

“Lodgings is so much more comfortable than housekeeping,” said Miss Spruce, who lived rather in fear of her relatives, the Ropers.

“Everybody knows it; does he?” said Amelia. “Why, if a gentleman will come home at night tipsy and threaten to murder another gentleman in the same house; and if a lady⁠—” And then Amelia paused, for she knew that the line-of-battle ship which she was preparing to encounter had within her much power of fighting.

“Well, miss,” said Mrs. Lupex, getting on her feet, “and what of the lady?”

Now we may say that the battle had begun, and that the two ships were pledged by the general laws of courage and naval