A. C.
As he waxed warm with his writing he had forced himself
to be affectionate, and, as he flattered himself,
frank and candid. Nevertheless, he was partly
conscious that he was preparing for himself a mode
of escape in those allusions of his to his own worldliness;
if escape should ultimately be necessary. “I
have tried,” he would then say; “I have
struggled honestly, with my best efforts for success;
but I am not good enough for such success.”
I do not intend to say that he wrote with a premeditated
intention of thus using his words; but as he wrote
them he could not keep himself from reflecting that
they might be used in that way.
He read his letter over, felt satisfied with it, and
resolved that he might now free his mind from that
consideration for the next forty-eight hours.
Whatever might be his sins he had done his duty by
Lily! And with this comfortable reflection he
deposited his letter in the Courcy Castle letter-box.
The Squire Makes a Visit to the Small House
Mrs Dale acknowledged to herself that she had not
much ground for hoping that she should ever find in
Crosbie’s house much personal happiness for
her future life. She did not dislike Mr Crosbie,
nor in any great degree mistrust him; but she had
seen enough of him to make her certain that Lily’s
future home in London could not be a home for her.
He was worldly, or, at least, a man of the world.
He would be anxious to make the most of his income,
and his life would be one long struggle, not perhaps
for money, but for those things which money only can
give. There are men to whom eight hundred a year
is great wealth, and houses to which it brings all
the comforts that life requires. But Crosbie
was not such a man, nor would his house be such a
house. Mrs Dale hoped that Lily would be happy
with him, and satisfied with his modes of life, and
she strove to believe that such would be the case;
but as regarded herself she was forced to confess
that in such a marriage her child would be much divided
from her. That pleasant abode to which she had
long looked forward that she might have a welcome
there in coming years should be among fields and trees,
not in some narrow London street. Lily must now
become a city lady; but Bell would still be left to
her, and it might still be hoped that Bell would find
for herself some country home.
Since the day on which Lily had first told her mother
of her engagement, Mrs Dale had found herself talking
much more fully and more frequently with Bell than
with her younger daughter. As long as Crosbie
was at Allington this was natural enough. He and
Lily were of course together, while Bell remained
with her mother. But the same state of things
continued even after Crosbie was gone. It was
not that there was any coolness or want of affection
between the mother and daughter, but that Lily’s
heart was full of her lover, and that Mrs Dale, though
she had given her cordial consent to the marriage,
felt that she had but few points of sympathy with her
future son-in-law. She had never said, even to
herself, that she disliked him; nay, she had sometimes
declared to herself that she was fond of him.
But, in truth, he was not a man after her own heart.
He was not one who could ever be to her as her own
son and her own child.
