The Last Chronicle of Barset [285]
that he was simply hateful to her. He thought that he could perceive that there was no tenderness mixed with her unabated anger.
At this moment Bernard Dale and Emily came close upon him, and Bernard saw him at once. It was through Bernard that Lily and Crosbie had come to know each other. He and Bernard Dale had been fast friends in old times, and had, of course, been bitter enemies since the day of Crosbie's treachery. They had never spoken since, though they had often seen each other, and Dale was not at all disposed to speak to him now. The moment that he recognised Crosbie he looked across to his cousin. For an instant, an idea flashed across him that he was there by her permission--with her assent; but it required no second glance to show him that this was not the case. 'Dunn,' he said, 'I think we will ride on,' and he put his horse into a trot. Siph, whose ear was very accurate, and who knew that something was wrong, trotted on with him, and Lily, of course, was not left behind. 'Is there anything the matter?' said Emily to her lover.
'Nothing specially the matter,' he replied; 'but you were standing in company with the greatest blackguard that every lived, and I thought we had better change our ground.'
'Bernard!' said Lily, flashing on him with all the fire which her eyes could command. Then she remembered that she could not reprimand him for the offence of such abuse in such a company; so she reined in her horse and fell a-weeping.
Siph Dunn, with his wicked cleverness, knew the whole story at once, remembering that he had once heard something of Crosbie having behaved very ill to someone before he married Lady Alexandra De Courcy. He stopped his horse also, falling a little behind Lily, so that he might not be supposed to have seen her tears, and began to hum a tune. Emily also, though not wickedly clever, understood something of it. 'If Bernard says anything to make you angry, I will scold him,' she said. Then the two girls rode on together in front, while Bernard fell back with Siph Dunn.
'Pratt,' said Crosbie, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder as soon as the party had ridden out of hearing, 'do you see that girl there in the dark blue habit?'
'What, the one nearest to the path?'
'Yes; the one nearest to the path. That is Lily Dale.'
'Lily Dale!' said Fowler Pratt.
'Yes, that is Lily Dale.'
'Did you speak to her?' Pratt asked.
'No; she gave me no chance. She was there but a moment. But it was herself. It seems so odd to me that I should have been thus so near her again.' If there was any man to whom Crosbie could have spoken freely about Lily Dale it was this man, Fowler Pratt. Pratt was the oldest friend he had in the world, and it had happened that when he first woke to the misery that he had prepared for himself in throwing over Lily and betrothing himself to his late wife, Pratt had been the first person to whom he had communicated his sorrow. Not that he had ever been really open in his communications. It was not given to such men as Crosbie to speak openly of themselves to their friends. Nor, indeed, was Fowler Pratt one who was fond of listening to such tales. He had no such tales to tell of himself, and he thought that men and women should go through the world quietly, not subjecting themselves or their acquaintances to anxieties and emotions from peculiar conduct. But he was conscientious, and courageous also as well as prudent, and he had dared to tell Crosbie that he was behaving very badly. He had spoken his mind plainly, and had then given all the assistance in his power.
He paused a moment before he replied, weighing, like a prudent man, the force of the words he was about to utter. 'It is much better as it is,' he said. 'It is much better that you should be strangers for the future.'
'I do not see that at all,' said Crosbie. They were both leaning on the rails, and so they remained for the next twenty minutes. 'I do not see that at all.'
'I feel sure of it. What could come of any renewed intercourse--even if she would allow it?'
'I might
At this moment Bernard Dale and Emily came close upon him, and Bernard saw him at once. It was through Bernard that Lily and Crosbie had come to know each other. He and Bernard Dale had been fast friends in old times, and had, of course, been bitter enemies since the day of Crosbie's treachery. They had never spoken since, though they had often seen each other, and Dale was not at all disposed to speak to him now. The moment that he recognised Crosbie he looked across to his cousin. For an instant, an idea flashed across him that he was there by her permission--with her assent; but it required no second glance to show him that this was not the case. 'Dunn,' he said, 'I think we will ride on,' and he put his horse into a trot. Siph, whose ear was very accurate, and who knew that something was wrong, trotted on with him, and Lily, of course, was not left behind. 'Is there anything the matter?' said Emily to her lover.
'Nothing specially the matter,' he replied; 'but you were standing in company with the greatest blackguard that every lived, and I thought we had better change our ground.'
'Bernard!' said Lily, flashing on him with all the fire which her eyes could command. Then she remembered that she could not reprimand him for the offence of such abuse in such a company; so she reined in her horse and fell a-weeping.
Siph Dunn, with his wicked cleverness, knew the whole story at once, remembering that he had once heard something of Crosbie having behaved very ill to someone before he married Lady Alexandra De Courcy. He stopped his horse also, falling a little behind Lily, so that he might not be supposed to have seen her tears, and began to hum a tune. Emily also, though not wickedly clever, understood something of it. 'If Bernard says anything to make you angry, I will scold him,' she said. Then the two girls rode on together in front, while Bernard fell back with Siph Dunn.
'Pratt,' said Crosbie, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder as soon as the party had ridden out of hearing, 'do you see that girl there in the dark blue habit?'
'What, the one nearest to the path?'
'Yes; the one nearest to the path. That is Lily Dale.'
'Lily Dale!' said Fowler Pratt.
'Yes, that is Lily Dale.'
'Did you speak to her?' Pratt asked.
'No; she gave me no chance. She was there but a moment. But it was herself. It seems so odd to me that I should have been thus so near her again.' If there was any man to whom Crosbie could have spoken freely about Lily Dale it was this man, Fowler Pratt. Pratt was the oldest friend he had in the world, and it had happened that when he first woke to the misery that he had prepared for himself in throwing over Lily and betrothing himself to his late wife, Pratt had been the first person to whom he had communicated his sorrow. Not that he had ever been really open in his communications. It was not given to such men as Crosbie to speak openly of themselves to their friends. Nor, indeed, was Fowler Pratt one who was fond of listening to such tales. He had no such tales to tell of himself, and he thought that men and women should go through the world quietly, not subjecting themselves or their acquaintances to anxieties and emotions from peculiar conduct. But he was conscientious, and courageous also as well as prudent, and he had dared to tell Crosbie that he was behaving very badly. He had spoken his mind plainly, and had then given all the assistance in his power.
He paused a moment before he replied, weighing, like a prudent man, the force of the words he was about to utter. 'It is much better as it is,' he said. 'It is much better that you should be strangers for the future.'
'I do not see that at all,' said Crosbie. They were both leaning on the rails, and so they remained for the next twenty minutes. 'I do not see that at all.'
'I feel sure of it. What could come of any renewed intercourse--even if she would allow it?'
'I might