The Last Chronicle of Barset [128]
doesn't come within the line?'
'N-o, not quite; a very nice fellow, I'm quite sure, and I'm very much obliged to you for taking me there.'
'I never will take you to any house again. And what did you think of the wife?'
'That's a horse of another colour altogether. A pretty woman with such a fine figure as hers has got a right to be anything she pleases. I see you are a great favourite.'
'No, I'm not;--not especially. I do like her. She wants to make up a match between me and that Miss Van Siever. Miss Van is to have gold by the ingot, and jewels by the bushel, and a hatful of back shares, and a whole mine in Cornwall, for her fortune.'
'And is very handsome into the bargain.'
'Yes; she's handsome.'
'So is her mother,' said Johnny. 'If you take the daughter, I'll take the mother, and see if I can't do you out of a mine or two. Good-night, old fellow. I'm only joking about old Dobbs. I'll go and dine there again tomorrow, if you like it.'
CHAPTER XXV
MISS MADELINE DEMOLINES
'I don't think you care two straws about her,' Conway Dalrymple said to his friend John Eames, two days after the dinner-party at Mrs Dobbs Broughton's. The painter was at work in his studio, and the private secretary from the Income-Tax Office, who was no doubt engaged on some special mission to the West End on the part of Sir Raffle Buffle, was sitting in a lounging-chair and smoking a cigar.
'Because I don't go about with my stockings cross-gartered, and do that kind of business?'
'Well, yes; because you don't do that kind of business, more or less.'
'It isn't in my line, my dear fellow. I know what you mean, very well. I daresay, artistically speaking--'
'Don't be an ass, Johnny.'
'Well then, poetically, or romantically, if you like that better --I daresay that poetically or romantically I am deficient. I eat my dinner very well, and I don't suppose I ought to do that; and, if you'll believe me, I find myself laughing sometimes.'
'I never knew a man who laughed so much. You're always laughing.'
'And that, you think, is a bad sign?'
'I don't believe you really care about her. I think you are aware that you have got a love-affair on hand, and that you hang on to it rather persistently, having in some way come to a resolution that you would be persistent. But there isn't much heart in it. I daresay there was once.'
'And that is your opinion?'
'You are just like some of those men who for years past have been going to write a book on some new subject. The intention has been sincere at first, and it never altogether dies away. But the would-be author, though he still talks of his work, knows that it will never be executed, and is very patient under his disappointment. All enthusiasm about the thing is gone, but he is still known as the man who is going to do it some day. You are the man who means to marry Miss Dale in five, ten, or twenty years' time.'
'Now, Conway, all that is thoroughly unfair. The would-be author talks of his would-be book to everybody. I have never talked of Miss Dale to anyone but you, and one or two very old family friends. And from year to year, and from month to month, I have done all that has been in my power to win her. I don't think I shall ever succeed, and yet I am as determined about it as I was when I first began it--or rather much more so. If I do not marry Lily, I shall never marry at all, and if anybody were to tell me tomorrow that she had made up her mind to have me, I should well nigh go mad for joy. But I am not going to give up all my life for love. Indeed the less I can bring myself to give up for it, the better I shall think of myself. Now I'll go away and call on old Lady Demolines.'
'And flirt with her daughter.'
'Yes;--flirt with her daughter, if I get the opportunity. Why shouldn't I flirt with her daughter?'
'Why not, if you like it?'
'I don't like it--not particularly, that is; because the young lady is not very pretty, nor yet very graceful, not yet very wise.'
'She is pretty after a fashion,' said the artist, 'and if
'N-o, not quite; a very nice fellow, I'm quite sure, and I'm very much obliged to you for taking me there.'
'I never will take you to any house again. And what did you think of the wife?'
'That's a horse of another colour altogether. A pretty woman with such a fine figure as hers has got a right to be anything she pleases. I see you are a great favourite.'
'No, I'm not;--not especially. I do like her. She wants to make up a match between me and that Miss Van Siever. Miss Van is to have gold by the ingot, and jewels by the bushel, and a hatful of back shares, and a whole mine in Cornwall, for her fortune.'
'And is very handsome into the bargain.'
'Yes; she's handsome.'
'So is her mother,' said Johnny. 'If you take the daughter, I'll take the mother, and see if I can't do you out of a mine or two. Good-night, old fellow. I'm only joking about old Dobbs. I'll go and dine there again tomorrow, if you like it.'
CHAPTER XXV
MISS MADELINE DEMOLINES
'I don't think you care two straws about her,' Conway Dalrymple said to his friend John Eames, two days after the dinner-party at Mrs Dobbs Broughton's. The painter was at work in his studio, and the private secretary from the Income-Tax Office, who was no doubt engaged on some special mission to the West End on the part of Sir Raffle Buffle, was sitting in a lounging-chair and smoking a cigar.
'Because I don't go about with my stockings cross-gartered, and do that kind of business?'
'Well, yes; because you don't do that kind of business, more or less.'
'It isn't in my line, my dear fellow. I know what you mean, very well. I daresay, artistically speaking--'
'Don't be an ass, Johnny.'
'Well then, poetically, or romantically, if you like that better --I daresay that poetically or romantically I am deficient. I eat my dinner very well, and I don't suppose I ought to do that; and, if you'll believe me, I find myself laughing sometimes.'
'I never knew a man who laughed so much. You're always laughing.'
'And that, you think, is a bad sign?'
'I don't believe you really care about her. I think you are aware that you have got a love-affair on hand, and that you hang on to it rather persistently, having in some way come to a resolution that you would be persistent. But there isn't much heart in it. I daresay there was once.'
'And that is your opinion?'
'You are just like some of those men who for years past have been going to write a book on some new subject. The intention has been sincere at first, and it never altogether dies away. But the would-be author, though he still talks of his work, knows that it will never be executed, and is very patient under his disappointment. All enthusiasm about the thing is gone, but he is still known as the man who is going to do it some day. You are the man who means to marry Miss Dale in five, ten, or twenty years' time.'
'Now, Conway, all that is thoroughly unfair. The would-be author talks of his would-be book to everybody. I have never talked of Miss Dale to anyone but you, and one or two very old family friends. And from year to year, and from month to month, I have done all that has been in my power to win her. I don't think I shall ever succeed, and yet I am as determined about it as I was when I first began it--or rather much more so. If I do not marry Lily, I shall never marry at all, and if anybody were to tell me tomorrow that she had made up her mind to have me, I should well nigh go mad for joy. But I am not going to give up all my life for love. Indeed the less I can bring myself to give up for it, the better I shall think of myself. Now I'll go away and call on old Lady Demolines.'
'And flirt with her daughter.'
'Yes;--flirt with her daughter, if I get the opportunity. Why shouldn't I flirt with her daughter?'
'Why not, if you like it?'
'I don't like it--not particularly, that is; because the young lady is not very pretty, nor yet very graceful, not yet very wise.'
'She is pretty after a fashion,' said the artist, 'and if