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

turned round and made some sweet little loving speech to her. Adolphus Crosbie was a clever man; and he meant also to be a true man⁠—if only the temptations to falsehood might not be too great for him.

“Lily,” he said to her, “will you walk in the fields after lunch?”

Walk in the fields with him! Of course she would. There were only three days left, and would she not give up to him every moment of her time, if he would accept of all her moments? And then they lunched at the Small House, Mrs. Dale having promised to join the dinner-party at the squire’s table. The squire did not eat any lunch, excusing himself on the plea that lunch in itself was a bad thing. “He can eat lunch at his own house,” Mrs. Dale afterwards said to Bell. “And I’ve often seen him take a glass of sherry.” While thinking of this, Mrs. Dale made her own dinner. If her brother-in-law would not eat at her board, neither would she eat at his.

And then in a few minutes Lily had on her hat, in place of that decorous, churchgoing bonnet which Crosbie was wont to abuse with a lover’s privilege, feeling well assured that he might say what he liked of the bonnet as long as he would praise the hat. “Only three days,” she said, as she walked down with him across the lawn at a quick pace. But she said it in a voice which made no complaint⁠—which seemed to say simply this⁠—that as the good time was to be so short, they must make the most of it. And what compliment could be paid to a man so sweet as that? What flattery could be more gratifying? All my earthly heaven is with you; and now, for the delight of these immediately present months or so, there are left to me but three days of this heaven! Come, then; I will make the most of what happiness is given to me. Crosbie felt it all as she felt it, and recognized the extent of the debt he owed her. “I’ll come down to them for a day at Christmas, though it be only for a day,” he said to himself. Then he reflected that as such was his intention, it might be well for him to open his present conversation with a promise to that effect.

“Yes, Lily; there are only three days left now. But I wonder whether⁠—I suppose you’ll all be at home at Christmas?”

“At home at Christmas?⁠—of course we shall be at home. You don’t mean to say you’ll come to us!”

“Well; I think I will, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh! that will make such a difference. Let me see. That will only be three months. And to have you here on Christmas Day! I would sooner have you then than on any other day in the year.”

“It will only be for one day, Lily. I shall come to dinner on Christmas Eve, and must go away the day after.”

“But you will come direct to our house!”

“If you can spare me a room.”

“Of course we can. So we could now. Only when you came, you know⁠—” Then she looked up into his face and smiled.

“When I came, I was the squire’s friend and your cousin’s, rather than yours. But that’s all changed now.”

“Yes; you’re my friend now⁠—mine specially. I’m to be now and always your own special, dearest friend;⁠—eh, Adolphus?” And then she exacted from him the repetition of the promise which he had so often given her.

By this time they had passed through the grounds of the Great House and were in the fields. “Lily,” said he, speaking rather suddenly, and making her feel by his manner that something of importance was to be said; “I want to say a few words to you about⁠—business.” And he gave a little laugh as he spoke the last word, making her fully understand that he was not quite at his ease.

“Of course I’ll listen. And, Adolphus, pray don’t be afraid about me. What I mean is, don’t think that I can’t bear cares and troubles. I can bear anything as long as you love me. I say that because I’m afraid I seemed to complain about your going. I didn’t mean to.”

“I never thought you complained, dearest. Nothing can be better than you are at all times and in every way. A man would be very hard to please if you didn’t please him.”

“If I can only please you⁠—”

“You do please me, in everything. Dear Lily, I think I found an angel when I found you. But now about this business. Perhaps I’d better tell you everything.”

“Oh, yes, tell me everything.”

“But then you mustn’t misunderstand me. And if I talk about money, you mustn’t suppose that it has anything to do with my love for you.”

“I wish for your sake that I wasn’t such a little pauper.”

“What I mean to say is this, that if I seem to be anxious about money, you must not suppose that that anxiety bears any reference whatever to my affection for you. I should love you just the same, and look forward just as much to my happiness in marrying you, whether you were rich or poor. You understand that?”

She did not quite understand him; but she merely pressed his arm, so as to encourage him to go on. She presumed that he intended to tell her something as to their future mode of life⁠—something which he supposed it might not be pleasant for her to hear, and she was determined to show him that she would receive it pleasantly.

“You know,” said he, “how anxious I have been that our marriage should not be delayed. To me, of course, it must be everything now to call you my own as soon as possible.” In answer to which little declaration of love, she merely pressed his arm again, the subject being one on which she had not herself much to say.

“Of course I