The Last Chronicle of Barset [324]
himself. In this, I think, she was hard upon her lover. He had pleaded for himself as well as he knew how, and as often as the occasion had been given to him. It had hardly been his fault that his case had been taken in hand by other advocates. He had given no commission to Mrs Thorne to plead for him.
Poor Johnny. He had stood in much better favour before that lady had presented her compliments to Miss L D. It was that odious letter, and the thoughts which it had forced upon Lily's mind, which were now most inimical to his interests. Whether Lily loved him or not, she did not love him well enough to be jealous of him. Had nay such letter reached her respecting Crosbie in the happy days of her young love, she would have simply have laughed at it. It would have been nothing to her. But now she was sore and unhappy, and any trifle was powerful enough to irritate her. 'Is Miss L D engaged to marry Mr J E?' 'No,' said Lily, out loud. 'Lily Dale is not engaged to marry John Eames, and never will be so engaged.' She was almost tempted to sit down and write the required answer to Miss M D. Though the letter had been destroyed, she well remembered the number of the post-office in the Edgware Road. Poor John Eames.
That evening she told Emily Dunstable that she thought she would like to return to Allington before the day that had been appointed for her. 'But why,' said Emily, 'should you be worse than your word?'
'I daresay it will seem silly, but the fact is I am homesick. I'm not accustomed to be away from mama for so long.'
'I hope it is not what occurred today at the picture-gallery.'
'I won't deny that it is that in part.'
'That was a strange accident, you know, that might never occur again.'
'It has occurred twice already, Emily.'
'I don't call the affair in the park anything. Anybody may see anybody else in the Park, of course. He was not brought near you that he could annoy you there. You ought certainly to wait till Mr Eames has come back from Italy.'
Then Lily decided that she must and would go back to Allington on the next Monday, and she actually did write a letter to her mother that night to say that such was her intention. But on the morrow her heart was less sore, and the letter was not sent.
CHAPTER LX
THE END OF JAEL AND SISERA
There was to be one more sitting for the picture, as the reader will remember, and the day for that sitting had arrived. Conway Dalrymple had in the meantime called at Mrs Van Siever's house, hoping that he might be able to see Clara, and make his offer there. But he had failed in his attempt to reach her. He had found it impossible to say all that he had to say in the painting-room during the very short intervals which Mrs Broughton left to him. A man should be allowed to be alone more than fifteen minutes with a young lady on the occasion in which he offers her his hand and his heart; but hitherto he had never had more than fifteen minutes at his command; and then there had been the turban! He had also in the meantime called in Mrs Broughton with the intention of explaining to her that if she really intended to favour his views in respect to Miss Van Siever, she ought to give him a little more liberty for expressing himself. Mrs Broughton found it necessary during this meeting to talk almost exclusively about herself and her own affairs. 'Conway,' she had said, directly she saw him, 'I am so glad you have come. I think I should have gone mad if I had not seen someone who cares for me.' This was early in the morning, not much after eleven, and Mrs Broughton, hearing first his knock at the door, and then his voice, had met him in the hall and taken him into the dining-room.
'Is anything the matter?' he asked.
'Oh, Conway!'
'What is it? Has anything gone wrong with Dobbs?'
'Everything has gone wrong with him. He is ruined.'
'Heaven and earth! What do you mean?'
'Simply what I say. But you must not speak a word of it. I do not know it from himself.'
'How do you know it?'
'Wait a moment. Sit down there, will you?--and I will
Poor Johnny. He had stood in much better favour before that lady had presented her compliments to Miss L D. It was that odious letter, and the thoughts which it had forced upon Lily's mind, which were now most inimical to his interests. Whether Lily loved him or not, she did not love him well enough to be jealous of him. Had nay such letter reached her respecting Crosbie in the happy days of her young love, she would have simply have laughed at it. It would have been nothing to her. But now she was sore and unhappy, and any trifle was powerful enough to irritate her. 'Is Miss L D engaged to marry Mr J E?' 'No,' said Lily, out loud. 'Lily Dale is not engaged to marry John Eames, and never will be so engaged.' She was almost tempted to sit down and write the required answer to Miss M D. Though the letter had been destroyed, she well remembered the number of the post-office in the Edgware Road. Poor John Eames.
That evening she told Emily Dunstable that she thought she would like to return to Allington before the day that had been appointed for her. 'But why,' said Emily, 'should you be worse than your word?'
'I daresay it will seem silly, but the fact is I am homesick. I'm not accustomed to be away from mama for so long.'
'I hope it is not what occurred today at the picture-gallery.'
'I won't deny that it is that in part.'
'That was a strange accident, you know, that might never occur again.'
'It has occurred twice already, Emily.'
'I don't call the affair in the park anything. Anybody may see anybody else in the Park, of course. He was not brought near you that he could annoy you there. You ought certainly to wait till Mr Eames has come back from Italy.'
Then Lily decided that she must and would go back to Allington on the next Monday, and she actually did write a letter to her mother that night to say that such was her intention. But on the morrow her heart was less sore, and the letter was not sent.
CHAPTER LX
THE END OF JAEL AND SISERA
There was to be one more sitting for the picture, as the reader will remember, and the day for that sitting had arrived. Conway Dalrymple had in the meantime called at Mrs Van Siever's house, hoping that he might be able to see Clara, and make his offer there. But he had failed in his attempt to reach her. He had found it impossible to say all that he had to say in the painting-room during the very short intervals which Mrs Broughton left to him. A man should be allowed to be alone more than fifteen minutes with a young lady on the occasion in which he offers her his hand and his heart; but hitherto he had never had more than fifteen minutes at his command; and then there had been the turban! He had also in the meantime called in Mrs Broughton with the intention of explaining to her that if she really intended to favour his views in respect to Miss Van Siever, she ought to give him a little more liberty for expressing himself. Mrs Broughton found it necessary during this meeting to talk almost exclusively about herself and her own affairs. 'Conway,' she had said, directly she saw him, 'I am so glad you have come. I think I should have gone mad if I had not seen someone who cares for me.' This was early in the morning, not much after eleven, and Mrs Broughton, hearing first his knock at the door, and then his voice, had met him in the hall and taken him into the dining-room.
'Is anything the matter?' he asked.
'Oh, Conway!'
'What is it? Has anything gone wrong with Dobbs?'
'Everything has gone wrong with him. He is ruined.'
'Heaven and earth! What do you mean?'
'Simply what I say. But you must not speak a word of it. I do not know it from himself.'
'How do you know it?'
'Wait a moment. Sit down there, will you?--and I will