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

“Less what?”

“Less defiant,” said Crosbie, “all this might perhaps have been avoided.”

Lady Alexandrina could not remember that she had been defiant; but, however, she let that pass. “Oh, yes; of course it was my fault.”

“I went down there to Allington with my heart ill at ease, and now I have fallen into this trouble. I tell you all as it has happened. It is impossible that I should marry Miss Dale. It would be wicked in me to do so, seeing that my heart belongs altogether to another. I have told you who is that other; and now may I hope for an answer?”

“An answer to what?”

“Alexandrina, will you be my wife?”

If it had been her object to bring him to a point-blank declaration and proposition of marriage, she had certainly achieved her object now. And she had that trust in her own power of management and in her mother’s, that she did not fear that in accepting him she would incur the risk of being served as he was serving Lily Dale. She knew her own position and his too well for that. If she accepted him she would in due course of time become his wife⁠—let Miss Dale and all her friends say what they might to the contrary. As to that head she had no fear. But nevertheless she did not accept him at once. Though she wished for the prize, her woman’s nature hindered her from taking it when it was offered to her.

“How long is it, Mr. Crosbie,” she said, “since you put the same question to Miss Dale?”

“I have told you everything, Alexandrina⁠—as I promised that I would do. If you intend to punish me for doing so⁠—”

“And I might ask another question. How long will it be before you put the same question to some other girl?”

He turned round as though to walk away from her in anger; but when he had gone half the distance to the door he returned.

“By heaven!” he said, and he spoke somewhat roughly, too, “I’ll have an answer. You at any rate have nothing with which to reproach me. All that I have done wrong, I have done through you, or on your behalf. You have heard my proposal. Do you intend to accept it?”

“I declare you startle me. If you demanded my money or my life, you could not be more imperious.”

“Certainly not more resolute in my determination.”

“And if I decline the honour?”

“I shall think you the most fickle of your sex.”

“And if I were to accept it?”

“I would swear that you were the best, the dearest, and the sweetest of women.”

“I would rather have your good opinion than your bad, certainly,” said Lady Alexandrina. And then it was understood by both of them that that affair was settled. Whenever she was called on in future to speak of Lily, she always called her, “that poor Miss Dale;” but she never again spoke a word of reproach to her future lord about that little adventure. “I shall tell mamma, tonight,” she said to him, as she bade him good night in some sequestered nook to which they had betaken themselves. Lady Julia’s eye was again on them as they came out from the sequestered nook, but Alexandrina no longer cared for Lady Julia.

“George, I cannot quite understand about that Mr. Palliser. Isn’t he to be a duke, and oughtn’t he to be a lord now?” This question was asked by Mrs. George De Courcy of her husband, when they found themselves together in the seclusion of the nuptial chamber.

“Yes; he’ll be Duke of Omnium when the old fellow dies. I think he’s one of the slowest fellows I ever came across. He’ll take deuced good care of the property, though.”

“But, George, do explain it to me. It is so stupid not to understand, and I am afraid of opening my mouth for fear of blundering.”

“Then keep your mouth shut, my dear. You’ll learn all those sort of things in time, and nobody notices it if you don’t say anything.”

“Yes, but, George;⁠—I don’t like to sit silent all the night. I’d sooner be up here with a novel if I can’t speak about anything.”

“Look at Lady Dumbello. She doesn’t want to be always talking.”

“Lady Dumbello is very different from me. But do tell me, who is Mr. Palliser?”

“He’s the duke’s nephew. If he were the duke’s son, he would be the Marquis of Silverbridge.”

“And will he be plain Mister till his uncle dies?”

“Yes, a very plain Mister.”

“What a pity for him. But, George⁠—if I have a baby, and if he should be a boy, and if⁠—”

“Oh, nonsense; it will be time enough to talk of that when he comes. I’m going to sleep.”

On the following morning Mr. Plantagenet Palliser was off upon his political mission before breakfast;⁠—either that, or else some private comfort was afforded to him in guise of solitary rolls and coffee. The public breakfast at Courcy Castle was going on at eleven o’clock, and at that hour Mr. Palliser was already closeted with the Mayor of Silverbridge.

“I must get off by the 3:45 train,” said Mr. Palliser. “Who is there to speak after me?”

“Well, I shall say a few words; and Growdy⁠—he’ll expect them to listen to him. Growdy has always stood very firm by his grace, Mr. Palliser.”

“Mind we are in the room sharp at one. And you can have a fly, for me to get away to the station, ready in the yard. I won’t go a moment before I can help. I shall be just an hour and a half myself. No, thank you, I never take any wine in the morning.” And I may here state that Mr. Palliser did get away by the 3:45 train, leaving Mr. Growdy still talking on the platform. Constituents must be treated with respect; but time has become so scarce nowadays that that respect has to be meted out by the quarter of an hour with parsimonious care.

In the meantime there was more