The Last Chronicle of Barset

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXXVI.

  I THINK HE IS LIGHT OF HEART.

  Mrs. Arabin remained one day in town. Mr. Toogood, in spite of hisasseveration that he would not budge from Barchester till he had seenMr. Crawley through all his troubles, did run up to London as soonas the news reached him that John Eames had returned. He came up andtook Mrs. Arabin's deposition, which he sent down to Mr. Walker. Itmight still be necessary, Mrs. Arabin was told, that she should gointo court, and there state on oath that she had given the cheque toMr. Crawley; but Mr. Walker was of opinion that the circumstanceswould enable the judge to call upon the grand jury not to find a truebill against Mr. Crawley, and that the whole affair, as far as Mr.Crawley was concerned, would thus be brought to an end. Toogood wasstill very anxious to place Dan Stringer in the dock, but Mr. Walkerdeclared that they would fail if they made the attempt. Dan had beenexamined before the magistrates at Barchester, and had persistedin his statement that he had heard nothing about Mr. Crawley andthe cheque. This he said in the teeth of the words which had fallenfrom him unawares in the presence of Mr. Toogood. But they could notpunish him for a lie,--not even for such a lie as that! He was notupon oath, and they could not make him responsible to the law becausehe had held his tongue upon a matter as to which it was manifestto them all that he had known the whole history during the entireperiod of Mr. Crawley's persecution. They could only call upon him toaccount for his possession of the cheque, and this he did by sayingit had been paid to him by Jem Scuttle, who received all moneysappertaining to the hotel stables, and accounted for them once aweek. Jem Scuttle had simply told him that he had taken the chequefrom Mr. Soames, and Jem had since gone to New Zealand. It wasquite true that Jem's departure had followed suspiciously close uponthe payment of the rent to Mrs. Arabin, and that Jem had been inclose amity with Dan Stringer up to the moment of his departure.That Dan Stringer had not become honestly possessed of the cheque,everybody knew; but, nevertheless, the magistrates were of opinion,Mr. Walker coinciding with them, that there was no evidence againsthim sufficient to secure a conviction. The story, however, of Mr.Crawley's injuries was so well known in Barchester, and the feelingagainst the man who had permitted him to be thus injured wasso strong, that Dan Stringer did not altogether escape withoutpunishment. Some rough spirits in Barchester called one night at "TheDragon of Wantly," and begged that Mr. Dan Stringer would be kindenough to come out and take a walk with them that evening; and whenit was intimated to them that Dan Stringer had not just then anydesire for such exercise, they requested to be allowed to go into theback parlour and make an evening with Dan Stringer in that recess.There was a terrible row at "The Dragon of Wantly" that night, andDan with difficulty was rescued by the police. On the followingmorning he was smuggled out of Barchester by an early train, and hasnever more been seen in that city. Rumours of him, however, were soonheard, from which it appeared that he had made himself acquaintedwith the casual ward of more than one workhouse in London. His cousinJohn left the inn almost immediately,--as, indeed, he must have donehad there been no question of Mr. Soames's cheque,--and then therewas nothing more heard of the Stringers in Barchester.

  Mrs. Arabin remained in town one day, and would have remained longer,waiting for her husband, had not a letter from her sister impressedupon her that it might be as well that she should be with theirfather as soon as possible. "I don't mean to make you think thatthere is any immediate danger," Mrs. Grantly said, "and, indeed, wecannot say that he is ill; but it seems that the extremity of old agehas come upon him almost suddenly, and that he is as weak as a child.His only delight is with the children, especially with Posy, whosegravity in her management of him is wonderful. He has not left hisroom now for more than a week, and he eats very little. It may bethat he will live yet for years; but I should be deceiving you if Idid not let you know that both the archdeacon and I think that thetime of his departure from us is near at hand." After reading thisletter, Mrs. Arabin could not wait in town for her husband, eventhough he was expected in two days, and though she had been told thather presence at Barchester was not immediately required on behalf ofMr. Crawley.

  But during that one day she kept her promise to John Eames by goingto Lily Dale. Mrs. Arabin had become very fond of Johnny, and feltthat he deserved the prize which he had been so long trying to win.The reader, perhaps, may not agree with Mrs. Arabin. The reader, whomay have caught a closer insight into Johnny's character than Mrs.Arabin had obtained, may, perhaps, think that a young man who couldamuse himself with Miss Demolines was unworthy of Lily Dale. If so, Imay declare for myself that I and the reader are not in accord aboutJohn Eames. It is hard to measure worth and worthlessness in suchmatters, as there is no standard for such measurement. My old friendJohn was certainly no hero,--was very unheroic in many phases of hislife; but then, if all the girls are to wait for heroes, I fear thatthe difficulties in the way of matrimonial arrangements, great asthey are at present, will be very seriously enhanced. Johnny was notecstatic, nor heroic, nor transcendental, nor very beautiful in hismanliness; he was not a man to break his heart for love, or to havehis story written in an epic; but he was an affectionate, kindly,honest young man; and I think most girls might have done worse thantake him. Whether he was wise to ask assistance in his love-making sooften as he had done, that may be another question.

  Mrs. Arabin was intimately acquainted with Mrs. Thorne, and thereforethere was nothing odd in her going to Mrs. Thorne's house. Mrs.Thorne was very glad to see her, and told her all the Barsetshirenews,--much more than Mrs. Arabin would have learned in a week at thedeanery; for Mrs. Thorne had a marvellous gift of picking up news.She had already heard the whole story of Mr. Soames's cheque, andexpressed her conviction that the least that could be done in amendsto Mr. Crawley was to make him a bishop. "And you see the palace isvacant," said Mrs. Thorne.

  "The palace vacant!" said Mrs. Arabin.

  "It is just as good. Now that Mrs. Proudie has gone I don't supposethe poor bishop will count for much. I can assure you, Mrs. Arabin, Ifelt that poor woman's death so much! She used to regard me as oneof the staunchest of the Proudieites! She once whispered to me sucha delightfully wicked story about the dean and the archdeacon. WhenI told her that they were my particular friends, she put on a lookof horror. But I don't think she believed me." Then Emily Dunstableentered the room, and with her came Lily Dale. Mrs. Arabin had neverbefore seen Lily, and of course they were introduced. "I am sorry tosay Miss Dale is going home to Allington to-morrow," said Emily. "Butshe is coming to Chaldicotes in May," said Mrs. Thorne. "Of course,Mrs. Arabin, you know what gala doings we are going to have in May?"Then there were various civil little speeches made on each side, andMrs. Arabin expressed a wish that she might meet Miss Dale again inBarsetshire. But all this did not bring her at all nearer to herobject.

  "I particularly wish to say a word to Miss Dale,--here to-day, if shewill allow me," said Mrs. Arabin.

  "I'm sure she will,--twenty words; won't you, Lily?" said Mrs.Thorne, preparing to leave the room. Then Mrs. Arabin apologized,and Mrs. Thorne, bustling up, said that it did not signify, andLily, remaining quite still on the sofa, wondered what it was allabout,--and in two minutes Lily and Mrs. Arabin were alone together.Lily had just time to surmise that Mrs. Arabin's visit must have somereference to Mr. Crosbie,--remembering that Crosbie had married hiswife out of Barsetshire, and forgetting altogether that Mrs. Arabinhad been just brought home from Italy by John Eames.

  "I am afraid, Miss Dale, you will think me very impertinent," saidMrs. Arabin.

  "I am sure I shall not think that," said Lily.

  "I believe you knew, before Mr. Eames started, that he was going toItaly to find me and my husband?" said Mrs. Arabin. Then Lily put Mr.Crosbie altogether out of her head, and became aware that he was notto be the subject of the coming conversation. She was almost sorrythat it was so. There was no doubt in her mind as to what she wouldhave said to any one who might have taken up Crosbie's cause. Onthat matter she could now have given a very decis
ive answer in afew words. But on that other matter she was much more in doubt. Sheremembered, however, every word of the note she had received from M.D. She remembered also the words of John's note to that young woman.And her heart was still hard against him. "Yes," she said; "Mr. Eamescame here one night and told us why he was going. I was very gladthat he was going, because I thought it was right."

  "You know, of course, how successful he has been? It was I who gavethe cheque to Mr. Crawley."

  "So Mrs. Thorne has heard. Dr. Thorne has written to tell her thewhole story."

  "And now I've come to look for Mr. Eames's reward."

  "His reward, Mrs. Arabin?"

  "Yes; or rather to plead for him. You will not, I hope, be angrywith him because he has told me much of his history while we weretravelling home alone together."

  "Oh, no," said Lily, smiling. "How could he have chosen a betterfriend in whom to trust?"

  "He could certainly have chosen none who would take his part moresincerely. He is so good and so amiable! He is so pleasant in hisways, and so fitted to make a woman happy! And then, Miss Dale, he isalso so devoted!"

  "He is an old friend of ours, Mrs. Arabin."

  "So he has told me."

  "And we all of us love him dearly. Mamma is very much attached tohim."

  "Unless he flatters himself, there is no one belonging to you whowould not wish that he should be nearer and dearer still."

  "It may be so. I do not say that it is not so. Mamma and my uncle areboth fond of him."

  "And does not that go a long way?" said Mrs. Arabin.

  "It ought not to do so," said Lily. "It ought not to go any way atall."

  "Ought it not? It seems to me that I could never have brought myselfto marry any one whom my old friends had not liked."

  "Ah! that is another thing."

  "But is it not a recommendation to a man that he has been sosuccessful with your friends as to make them all feel that you mighttrust yourself to him with perfect safety?" To this Lily made noanswer, and Mrs. Arabin went on to plead her friend's cause with allthe eloquence she could use, insisting on all his virtues, his goodtemper, his kindness, his constancy,--and not forgetting the factthat the world was inclined to use him very well. Still Lily made noanswer. She had promised Mrs. Arabin that she would not regard herinterference as impertinent, and therefore she refrained from anyword that might seem to show offence. Nor did she feel offence. Itwas something gained by John Eames in Lily's estimation that heshould have such a friend as Mrs. Arabin to take an interest in hiswelfare. But there was a self-dependence, perhaps one may call it anobstinacy about Lily Dale, which made her determined that she wouldnot be driven hither or thither by any pressure from without. Whyhad John Eames, at the very moment when he should have been doinghis best to drive from her breast the memory of past follies,--whenhe would have striven to do so had he really been earnest in hissuit,--why at such a moment had he allowed himself to correspond interms of affection with such a woman as this M. D.? While Mrs. Arabinwas pleading for John Eames, Lily was repeating to herself certainwords which John had written to the woman--"Ever and always yoursunalterably." Such were not the exact words, but such was the form inwhich Lily, dishonestly, chose to repeat them to herself. And why wasit so with her? In the old days she would have forgiven Crosbie anyoffence at a word or a look,--any possible letter to any M. D., lether have been ever so abominable! Nay,--had she not even forgiven himthe offence of deserting herself altogether on behalf of a woman asdetestable as could be any M. D. of Johnny's choosing;--a woman whoseonly recommendation had been her title? And yet she would not forgiveJohn Eames, though the evidence against him was of so flimsy anature,--but rather strove to turn the flimsiness of that evidenceinto strength! Why was it so? Unheroic as he might be, John Eames wassurely a better man and a bigger man than Adolphus Crosbie. It wassimply this;--she had fallen in love with the one, and had neverfallen in love with the other! She had fallen in love with the oneman, though in her simple way she had made a struggle against suchfeeling; and she had not come to love the other man, though she hadtold herself that it would be well that she should do so if it werepossible. Again and again she had half declared to herself that shewould take him as her husband and leave the love to come afterwards;but when the moment came for doing so, she could not do it.

  "May I not say a word of comfort to him?" said Mrs. Arabin.

  "He will be very comfortable without any such word," said Lily,laughing.

  "But he is not comfortable; of that you may be very sure." "Yoursever and unalterably, J. E.," said Lily to herself. "You do not doubthis affection?" continued Mrs. Arabin.

  "I neither doubt it nor credit it."

  "Then I think you wrong him. And the reason why I have ventured tocome to you is that you may know the impression which he has madeupon one who was but the other day a stranger to him. I am sure thathe loves you."

  "I think he is light of heart."

  "Oh, no, Miss Dale."

  "And how am I to become his wife unless I love him well enoughmyself? Mrs. Arabin, I have made up my mind about it. I shall neverbecome any man's wife. Mamma and I are all in all together, andwe shall remain together." As soon as these words were out of hermouth, she hated herself for having spoken them. There was a maudlin,missish, namby-mamby sentimentality about them which disgusted her.She specially desired to be straightforward, resolute of purpose,honest-spoken, and free from all touch of affectation. And yet shehad excused herself from marrying John Eames after the fashion of asick schoolgirl. "It is no good talking about it any more," she said,getting up from her chair quickly.

  "You are not angry with me;--or at any rate you will forgive me?"

  "I'm quite sure you have meant to be very good, and I am not a bitangry."

  "And you will see him before you go?"

  "Oh, yes; that is if he likes to come to-day, or early to-morrow.I go home to-morrow. I cannot refuse him, because he is such an oldfriend,--almost like a brother. But it is of no use, Mrs. Arabin."Then Mrs. Arabin kissed her and left her, telling her that Mr. Eameswould come to her that afternoon at half-past five. Lily promisedthat she would be at home to receive him.

  "Won't you ride with us for the last time?" said Emily Dunstable whenLily gave notice that she would not want the horse on that afternoon.

  "No; not to-day."

  "You'll never have another opportunity of riding with EmilyDunstable," said the bride elect;--"at least I hope not."

  "Even under those circumstances I must refuse, though I would give aguinea to be with you. John Eames is coming here to say good-by."

  "Oh; then indeed you must not come with us. Lily, what will you sayto him?"

  "Nothing."

  "Oh, Lily, think of it."

  "I have thought of it. I have thought of nothing else. I am tired ofthinking of it. It is not good to think of anything so much. Whatdoes it matter?"

  "It is very good to have some one to love one better than all theworld besides."

  "I have some one," said Lily, thinking of her mother, but not caringto descend again to the mawkish weakness of talking about her.

  "Yes; but some one to be always with you, to do everything for you,to be your very own."

  "It is all very well for you," said Lily, "and I think that Bernardis the luckiest fellow in the world; but it will not do for me. Iknow in what college I'll take my degree, and I wish they'd let mewrite the letters after my name as the men do."

  "What letters, Lily?"

  "O.M., for Old Maid. I don't see why it shouldn't be as good as B.A.for Bachelor of Arts. It would mean a great deal more."