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

warfare to maintain the contest till one of them should be absolutely disabled, if not blown up or sunk. And at this moment it might be difficult for a bystander to say with which of the combatants rested the better chance of permanent success. Mrs. Lupex had doubtless on her side more matured power, a habit of fighting which had given her infinite skill, a courage which deadened her to the feeling of all wounds while the heat of the battle should last, and a recklessness which made her almost indifferent whether she sank or swam. But then Amelia carried the greater guns, and was able to pour in heavier metal than her enemy could use; and she, too, swam in her own waters. Should they absolutely come to grappling and boarding, Amelia would no doubt have the best of it; but Mrs. Lupex would probably be too crafty to permit such a proceeding as that. She was, however, ready for the occasion, and greedy for the fight.

“And what of the lady?” said she, in a tone of voice that admitted of no pacific rejoinder.

“A lady, if she is a lady,” said Amelia, “will know how to behave herself.”

“And you’re going to teach me, are you, Miss Roper? I’m sure I’m ever so much obliged to you. It’s Manchester manners, I suppose, that you prefer?”

“I prefer honest manners, Mrs. Lupex, and decent manners, and manners that won’t shock a whole house full of people; and I don’t care whether they come from Manchester or London.”

“Milliner’s manners, I suppose?”

“I don’t care whether they are milliner’s manners or theatrical, Mrs. Lupex, as long as they’re not downright bad manners⁠—as yours are, Mrs. Lupex. And now you’ve got it. What are you going on for in this way with that young man, till you’ll drive your husband into a madhouse with drink and jealousy?”

“Miss Roper! Miss Roper!” said Cradell; “now really⁠—”

“Don’t mind her, Mr. Cradell,” said Mrs. Lupex; “she’s not worthy for you to speak to. And as to that poor fellow Eames, if you’ve any friendship for him, you’ll let him know what she is. My dear, how’s Mr. Juniper, of Grogram’s house, at Salford? I know all about you, and so shall John Eames, too⁠—poor unfortunate fool of a fellow! Telling me of drink and jealousy, indeed!”

“Yes, telling you! And now you’ve, mentioned Mr. Juniper’s name, Mr. Eames, and Mr. Cradell too, may know the whole of it. There’s been nothing about Mr. Juniper that I’m ashamed of.”

“It would be difficult to make you ashamed of anything, I believe.”

“But let me tell you this, Mrs. Lupex, you’re not going to destroy the respectability of this house by your goings on.”

“It was a bad day for me when I let Lupex bring me into it.”

“Then pay your bill, and walk out of it,” said Amelia, waving her hand towards the door. “I’ll undertake to say there shan’t be any notice required. Only you pay mother what you owe, and you’re free to go at once.”

“I shall go just when I please, and not one hour before. Who are you, you gipsy, to speak to me in this way?”

“And as for going, go you shall, if we have to call in the police to make you.”

Amelia, as at this period of the fight she stood fronting her foe with her arms akimbo, certainly seemed to have the best of the battle. But the bitterness of Mrs. Lupex’s tongue had hardly yet produced its greatest results. I am inclined to think that the married lady would have silenced her who was single, had the fight been allowed to rage⁠—always presuming that no resort to grappling-irons took place. But at this moment Mrs. Roper entered the room, accompanied by her son, and both the combatants for a moment retreated.

“Amelia, what’s all this?” said Mrs. Roper, trying to assume a look of agonized amazement.

“Ask Mrs. Lupex,” said Amelia.

“And Mrs. Lupex will answer,” said that lady. “Your daughter has come in here, and attacked me⁠—in such language⁠—before Mr. Cradell, too⁠—”

“Why doesn’t she pay what she owes, and leave the house?” said Amelia.

“Hold your tongue,” said her brother. “What she owes is no affair of yours.”

“But it’s an affair of mine, when I’m insulted by such a creature as that.”

“Creature!” said Mrs. Lupex. “I’d like to know which is most like a creature! But I’ll tell you, what it is, Amelia Roper⁠—” Here, however, her eloquence was stopped, for Amelia had disappeared through the door, having been pushed out of the room by her brother. Whereupon Mrs. Lupex, having found a sofa convenient for the service, betook herself to hysterics. There for the moment we will leave her, hoping that poor Mrs. Roper was not kept late out of her bed.

“What a deuce of a mess Eames will make of it if he marries that girl!” 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.

XII Lilian Dale Becomes a Butterfly

And now we will go back to Allington. The same morning that brought to John Eames the two letters which were given in the last chapter but one, brought to the Great House, among others, the following epistle for Adolphus Crosbie. It was from a countess, and was written on pink paper, beautifully creamlaid and scented, ornamented with a coronet and certain singularly-entwined initials. Altogether, the letter was very fashionable and attractive, and Adolphus Crosbie was by no means sorry to receive it.

Courcy Castle, September, 186⁠—.

My dear Mr. Crosbie⁠—We have heard of you from the Gazebees, who have come down to us, and who tell us that you are rusticating at a charming little village, in which, among other attractions, there are wood nymphs and water nymphs, to whom much of your time is devoted. As this is just the thing for your