The Last Chronicle of Barset [182]
true. Dear John, I wish for your sake it was otherwise. I will go home and I will write in my book, this very day, Lily Dale, Old Maid. If ever I make that false, do you come and ask me for the page.'
'Let it remain there till I am allowed to tear it for you.'
'I will write it, and it shall never be torn out. You I cannot marry. Him I will not marry. You may believe me, Johnny, when I say there can never be a third.'
'And is that to be the end of it?'
'Yes;--that is to be the end of it. Not the end of our friendship. Old maids have friends.'
'It shall not be the end of it. There shall be no end of it with me.'
'But, John--'
'Do not suppose that I will trouble you again--at any rate not for a while. In five years perhaps--'
'Now, Johnny, you are laughing at me. And of course it is the best way. If there is not Grace, and she has caught me before I have turned back. Good-bye, dear John. God bless you. I think you the finest fellow in the world. I do, and do does mamma. Remember always that there is a temple at Allington in which your worship is never forgotten.' Then she pressed his hand and turned away from him to meet Grace Crawley. John did not stop to speak a word to his cousin, but pursued his way alone.
'That cousin of yours,' said Lily, 'is simply the dearest, warmest-hearted, finest creature that ever was seen in the shape of a man.'
'Have you told him that you think him so?' said Grace.
'Indeed, I have,' said Lily.
'But have you told this finest, warmest, dearest creature that he shall be rewarded with the prize he covets?'
'No, Grace. I have told him nothing of the kind. I think he understands it all now. If he does not, it is not for the want of my telling him. I don't suppose any lady was ever more open-spoken to a gentleman that I have been to him.'
'And why have you sent him away disappointed? You know you love him.'
'You see, my dear,' said Lily, 'you allow yourself, for the sake of your argument, to use a word in a double sense, and you attempt to confound me by doing so. But I am a great deal too clever for you, and have thought too much about it, to be taken in in that way. I certainly love your cousin John; and so do I love Mr Boyce, the vicar.'
'You love Johnny much better than you do Mr Boyce.'
'True; very much better; but it is of the same sort of love. However, it is a great deal too deep for you to understand. You're too young, and I shan't try to explain it. But the long and the short of it is--I am not going to marry your cousin.'
'I wish you were,' said Grace, 'with all my heart.'
John Eames as he returned to the cottage was by no means able to fall back upon those resolutions as to his future life, which he had formed for himself and communicated to his friend Dalrymple, and which he had intended to bring at once into force in the event of his being rejected by Lily Dale. 'I will cleanse my mind of it altogether,' he had said, 'and though I may not forget her, I will live as though she were forgotten. If she declines my proposal again, I will accept her word as final. I will not go about the world any longer as a stricken deer--to be pitied or else bullied by the rest of the herd.' On his way down to Guestwick he had sworn twenty times that it should be so. He would make one more effort, and then he would give it up. But now, after his interview with Lily, he was as little disposed to give it up as ever.
He sat upon a gate in a paddock through which there was a back entrance into Lady Julia's garden, and there swore a thousand oaths that he would never give her up. He was, at any rate, sure that she would never become the wife of anyone else. He was equally sure that he would never become the husband of any other wife. He could trust her. Yes; he was sure of that. But could he trust himself? Communing with himself, he told himself that after all he was but a poor creature. Circumstances had been very good to him, but he had done nothing for himself. He was vain, and foolish, and unsteady. So he told himself while sitting upon the
'Let it remain there till I am allowed to tear it for you.'
'I will write it, and it shall never be torn out. You I cannot marry. Him I will not marry. You may believe me, Johnny, when I say there can never be a third.'
'And is that to be the end of it?'
'Yes;--that is to be the end of it. Not the end of our friendship. Old maids have friends.'
'It shall not be the end of it. There shall be no end of it with me.'
'But, John--'
'Do not suppose that I will trouble you again--at any rate not for a while. In five years perhaps--'
'Now, Johnny, you are laughing at me. And of course it is the best way. If there is not Grace, and she has caught me before I have turned back. Good-bye, dear John. God bless you. I think you the finest fellow in the world. I do, and do does mamma. Remember always that there is a temple at Allington in which your worship is never forgotten.' Then she pressed his hand and turned away from him to meet Grace Crawley. John did not stop to speak a word to his cousin, but pursued his way alone.
'That cousin of yours,' said Lily, 'is simply the dearest, warmest-hearted, finest creature that ever was seen in the shape of a man.'
'Have you told him that you think him so?' said Grace.
'Indeed, I have,' said Lily.
'But have you told this finest, warmest, dearest creature that he shall be rewarded with the prize he covets?'
'No, Grace. I have told him nothing of the kind. I think he understands it all now. If he does not, it is not for the want of my telling him. I don't suppose any lady was ever more open-spoken to a gentleman that I have been to him.'
'And why have you sent him away disappointed? You know you love him.'
'You see, my dear,' said Lily, 'you allow yourself, for the sake of your argument, to use a word in a double sense, and you attempt to confound me by doing so. But I am a great deal too clever for you, and have thought too much about it, to be taken in in that way. I certainly love your cousin John; and so do I love Mr Boyce, the vicar.'
'You love Johnny much better than you do Mr Boyce.'
'True; very much better; but it is of the same sort of love. However, it is a great deal too deep for you to understand. You're too young, and I shan't try to explain it. But the long and the short of it is--I am not going to marry your cousin.'
'I wish you were,' said Grace, 'with all my heart.'
John Eames as he returned to the cottage was by no means able to fall back upon those resolutions as to his future life, which he had formed for himself and communicated to his friend Dalrymple, and which he had intended to bring at once into force in the event of his being rejected by Lily Dale. 'I will cleanse my mind of it altogether,' he had said, 'and though I may not forget her, I will live as though she were forgotten. If she declines my proposal again, I will accept her word as final. I will not go about the world any longer as a stricken deer--to be pitied or else bullied by the rest of the herd.' On his way down to Guestwick he had sworn twenty times that it should be so. He would make one more effort, and then he would give it up. But now, after his interview with Lily, he was as little disposed to give it up as ever.
He sat upon a gate in a paddock through which there was a back entrance into Lady Julia's garden, and there swore a thousand oaths that he would never give her up. He was, at any rate, sure that she would never become the wife of anyone else. He was equally sure that he would never become the husband of any other wife. He could trust her. Yes; he was sure of that. But could he trust himself? Communing with himself, he told himself that after all he was but a poor creature. Circumstances had been very good to him, but he had done nothing for himself. He was vain, and foolish, and unsteady. So he told himself while sitting upon the