The Small House at Allington, Anthony Trollope [best ebook reader for chromebook .txt] 📗
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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They found Lady Julia sitting in her drawing-room alone, and introduced to her Mr. Crosbie in due form. The fact of Lily’s engagement was of course known at the manor, and it was quite understood that her intended husband was now brought over that he might be looked at and approved. Lady Julia made a very elaborate curtsey, and expressed a hope that her young friend might be made happy in that sphere of life to which it had pleased God to call her.
“I hope I shall, Lady Julia,” said Lily, with a little laugh; “at any rate I mean to try.”
“We all try, my dear, but many of us fail to try with sufficient energy of purpose. It is only by doing our duty that we can hope to be happy, whether in single life or in married.”
“Miss Dale means to be a dragon of perfection in the performance of hers,” said Crosbie.
“A dragon!” said Lady Julia. “No; I hope Miss Lily Dale will never become a dragon.” And then she turned to her nephew. It may be as well to say at once that she never forgave Mr. Crosbie the freedom of the expression which he had used. He had been in the drawing-room of Guestwick Manor for two minutes only, and it did not become him to talk about dragons. “Bernard,” she said, “I heard from your mother yesterday. I am afraid she does not seem to be very strong.” And then there was a little conversation, not very interesting in its nature, between the aunt and the nephew as to the general health of Lady Fanny.
“I didn’t know my aunt was so unwell,” said Bell.
“She isn’t ill,” said Bernard. “She never is ill; but then she is never well.”
“Your aunt,” said Lady Julia, seeming to put a touch of sarcasm into the tone of her voice as she repeated the word—“your aunt has never enjoyed good health since she left this house; but that is a long time ago.”
“A very long time,” said Crosbie, who was not accustomed to be left in his chair silent. “You, Dale, at any rate, can hardly remember it.”
“But I can remember it,” said Lady Julia, gathering herself up. “I can remember when my sister Fanny was recognized as the beauty of the country. It is a dangerous gift, that of beauty.”
“Very dangerous,” said Crosbie. Then Lily laughed again, and Lady Julia became more angry than ever. What odious man was this whom her neighbours were going to take into their very bosom! But she had heard of Mr. Crosbie before, and Mr. Crosbie also had heard of her.
“By the by, Lady Julia,” said he, “I think I know some very dear friends of yours.”
“Very dear friends is a very strong word. I have not many very dear friends.”
“I mean the Gazebees. I have heard Mortimer Gazebee and Lady Amelia speak of you.”
Whereupon Lady Julia confessed that she did know the Gazebees. Mr. Gazebee, she said, was a man who in early life had wanted many advantages, but still he was a very estimable person. He was now in Parliament, and she understood that he was making himself useful. She had not quite approved of Lady Amelia’s marriage at the time, and so she had told her very old friend Lady De Courcy; but—And then Lady Julia said many words in praise of Mr. Gazebee, which seemed to amount to this; that he was an excellent sort of man, with a full conviction of the too great honour done to him by the earl’s daughter who had married him, and a complete consciousness that even that marriage had not put him on a par with his wife’s relations, or even with his wife. And then it came out that Lady Julia in the course of the next week was going to meet the Gazebees at Courcy Castle.
“I am delighted to think that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you there,” said Crosbie.
“Indeed!” said Lady Julia.
“I am going to Courcy on Wednesday. That, I fear, will be too early to allow of my being of any service to your ladyship.”
Lady Julia drew herself up, and declined the escort which Mr. Crosbie had seemed to offer. It grieved her to find that Lily Dale’s future husband was an intimate friend of her friend’s, and it especially grieved her to find that he was now going to that friend’s house. It was a grief to her, and she showed that it was. It also grieved Crosbie to find that Lady Julia was to be a fellow guest with himself at Courcy Castle; but he did not show it. He expressed nothing but smiles and civil self-congratulation on the matter, pretending that he would have much delight in again meeting Lady Julia; but, in truth, he would have given much could he have invented any manoeuvre by which her ladyship might have been kept at home.
“What a horrid old woman she is,” said Lily, as they rode back down the avenue. “I beg your pardon, Bernard; for, of course, she is your aunt.”
“Yes; she is my aunt; and though I am not very fond of her, I deny that she is a horrid old woman. She never murdered anybody, or robbed anybody, or stole away any other woman’s lover.”
“I should think not,” said Lily.
“She says her prayers earnestly, I have no doubt,” continued Bernard, “and gives away money to the poor, and would sacrifice tomorrow any desire of her
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