The Last Chronicle of Barset [84]
And the archdeacon is a wealthy man. So Henry Grantly has got an only daughter? I hope she is a nice child, for I remember liking him well.'
'She is a very nice child, indeed Mr Dale. She could not be nicer. And she is so lovely.' Then Mr Dale looked into his young companion's face, struck by the sudden animation of her words, and perceived for the first time that she was very pretty.
After this Grace became accustomed to the strangeness of the faces round her, and managed to eat her dinner without much perturbation of spirit. When after dinner the squire proposed to her that they should drink the health of her papa and mamma, she was almost reduced to tears, and yet she liked him for doing it. It was terrible to her to have them mentioned, knowing as she did that everyone who mentioned them must be aware of their misery--for the misfortune of her father had become notorious in the country; but it was almost terrible to her that no allusion should be made to them; for then she would be driven to think that her father was regarded as a man whom the world could not afford to mention. 'Papa and mamma,' she just murmured, raising her glass to her lips. 'Grace, dear,' said Lily from across the table, 'here's papa and mamma, and the young man at Malborough who is carrying everything before him.' 'Yes; and we won't forget the young man at Malborough,' said the squire. Grace felt this to be good-natured, because her brother at Malborough was the one bright spot in her family--and she was comforted.
'And we will drink the health of my friend, John Eames,' said Lady Julia.
'John Eames's health,' said the squire, in a low voice.
'Johnny's health,' said Mrs Dale; but Mrs Dale's voice was not very brisk.
'John's health,' said Dr Crofts and Mrs Crofts, in a breath.
'Here's the health of John Eames,' said Lily; and her voice was the clearest and boldest of them all. But she made up her mind that if Lady Julia could not be induced to spare her for the future, she and Lady Julia must quarrel. 'No one can understand,' she said to her mother that evening, 'how dreadful it is--this being constantly told before one's family and friends that one ought to marry a certain young man.'
'She didn't say that, my dear.'
'I should much prefer that she should, then I could get up on my legs and answer her off the reel.' Of course everybody there understood what she meant--including old John Bates, who stood at the sideboard and coolly drank the toast himself.
'He always does that to all the family toasts on Christmas Day. Your uncle likes it.'
'That wasn't a family toast, and John Bates had no right to drink it.'
After dinner they all played cards--a round game--and the squire put in the stakes. 'Now, Grace,' said Lily, 'you are the visitor and you must win, or else Uncle Christopher won't be happy. He always likes a young lady visitor to win.'
'But I never played a game of cards in my life.'
'Go and sit next to him, and he'll teach you. Uncle Christopher, won't you teach Grace Crawley? She never saw a Pope Joan board in her life before.'
'Come here, my dear, and sit next to me. Dear, dear, dear; fancy Henry Grantly having a little girl. What a handsome lad he was. And it seems only yesterday.' If it was so that Lily had said a word to her uncle about Grace and the major, the old squire had become on a sudden very sly. Be that as it may, Grace Crawley thought he was a pleasant old man; and though, while talking to him about Edith, she persisted in not learning to play Pope Joan, so that he could not contrive that she should win, nevertheless the squire took to her very kindly, and told her to come up with Lily and see him sometimes while she was staying at the Small House. The squire in speaking of his sister-in-law's cottage always called it the Small House.
'Only think of winning,' said Lady Julia, drawing together her wealth. 'Well, I'm sure I want it bad enough, for I don't at all know whether I've got any income of my own. It's all John Eames's fault, my dear, for he won't go and make those people
'She is a very nice child, indeed Mr Dale. She could not be nicer. And she is so lovely.' Then Mr Dale looked into his young companion's face, struck by the sudden animation of her words, and perceived for the first time that she was very pretty.
After this Grace became accustomed to the strangeness of the faces round her, and managed to eat her dinner without much perturbation of spirit. When after dinner the squire proposed to her that they should drink the health of her papa and mamma, she was almost reduced to tears, and yet she liked him for doing it. It was terrible to her to have them mentioned, knowing as she did that everyone who mentioned them must be aware of their misery--for the misfortune of her father had become notorious in the country; but it was almost terrible to her that no allusion should be made to them; for then she would be driven to think that her father was regarded as a man whom the world could not afford to mention. 'Papa and mamma,' she just murmured, raising her glass to her lips. 'Grace, dear,' said Lily from across the table, 'here's papa and mamma, and the young man at Malborough who is carrying everything before him.' 'Yes; and we won't forget the young man at Malborough,' said the squire. Grace felt this to be good-natured, because her brother at Malborough was the one bright spot in her family--and she was comforted.
'And we will drink the health of my friend, John Eames,' said Lady Julia.
'John Eames's health,' said the squire, in a low voice.
'Johnny's health,' said Mrs Dale; but Mrs Dale's voice was not very brisk.
'John's health,' said Dr Crofts and Mrs Crofts, in a breath.
'Here's the health of John Eames,' said Lily; and her voice was the clearest and boldest of them all. But she made up her mind that if Lady Julia could not be induced to spare her for the future, she and Lady Julia must quarrel. 'No one can understand,' she said to her mother that evening, 'how dreadful it is--this being constantly told before one's family and friends that one ought to marry a certain young man.'
'She didn't say that, my dear.'
'I should much prefer that she should, then I could get up on my legs and answer her off the reel.' Of course everybody there understood what she meant--including old John Bates, who stood at the sideboard and coolly drank the toast himself.
'He always does that to all the family toasts on Christmas Day. Your uncle likes it.'
'That wasn't a family toast, and John Bates had no right to drink it.'
After dinner they all played cards--a round game--and the squire put in the stakes. 'Now, Grace,' said Lily, 'you are the visitor and you must win, or else Uncle Christopher won't be happy. He always likes a young lady visitor to win.'
'But I never played a game of cards in my life.'
'Go and sit next to him, and he'll teach you. Uncle Christopher, won't you teach Grace Crawley? She never saw a Pope Joan board in her life before.'
'Come here, my dear, and sit next to me. Dear, dear, dear; fancy Henry Grantly having a little girl. What a handsome lad he was. And it seems only yesterday.' If it was so that Lily had said a word to her uncle about Grace and the major, the old squire had become on a sudden very sly. Be that as it may, Grace Crawley thought he was a pleasant old man; and though, while talking to him about Edith, she persisted in not learning to play Pope Joan, so that he could not contrive that she should win, nevertheless the squire took to her very kindly, and told her to come up with Lily and see him sometimes while she was staying at the Small House. The squire in speaking of his sister-in-law's cottage always called it the Small House.
'Only think of winning,' said Lady Julia, drawing together her wealth. 'Well, I'm sure I want it bad enough, for I don't at all know whether I've got any income of my own. It's all John Eames's fault, my dear, for he won't go and make those people