"Are you quite comfortable?" he said, at last.
"Oh, yes, quite, thank you. By-the-by, what did you do with my dressing-case?"
And that question she did ask with some energy.
"It is under you. You can have it as foot-stool if you like it."
"Oh, no; I should scratch it. I was afraid that if Hannah had it, it might be lost." Then again there was silence, and Crosbie again considered as to what he would next say to his wife.
We all know the advice given us of old as to what we should do under such circumstances; and who can be so thoroughly justified in following that advice as a newly-married husband? So he put out his hand for hers and drew her closer to him.
"Take care of my bonnet," she said, as she felt the motion of the railway carriage when he kissed her. I don't think he kissed her again till he had landed her and her bonnet safely at Folkestone. How often would he have kissed Lily, and how pretty would her bonnet have been when she reached the end of her journey, and how delightfully happy would she have looked when she scolded him for bending it! But Alexandrina was quite in earnest about her bonnet; by far too much in earnest for any appearance of happiness.
So he sat without speaking, till the train came to the tunnel.
"I do so hate tunnels," said Alexandrina.
He had half intended to put out his hand again, under some mistaken idea that the tunnel afforded him an opportunity. The whole journey was one long opportunity, had he desired it; but his wife hated tunnels, and so he drew his hand back again. Lily's little fingers would have been ready for his touch. He thought of this, and could not help thinking of it.
He had The Times newspaper in his dressing-bag. She also had a novel with her. Would she be offended if he took out the paper and read it? The miles seemed to pass by very slowly; and there was still another hour down to Folkestone. He longed for his Times, but resolved at last that he would not read unless she read first. She also had remembered her novel; but by nature she was more patient than he, and she thought that on such a journey any reading might perhaps be almost improper. So she sat tranquilly, with her eyes fixed on the netting over her husband's head.
At last he could stand it no longer, and he dashed off into a conversation, intended to be most affectionate and serious.
"Alexandrina," he said, and his voice was well-tuned for the tender serious manner, had her ears been alive to such tuning. "Alexandrina, this is a very important step that you and I have taken to-day."
"Yes; it is, indeed," said she.
"I trust we shall succeed in making each other happy."
"Yes; I hope we shall."
"If we both think seriously of it, and remember that that is our chief duty, we shall do so."
"Yes, I suppose we shall. I only hope we shan't find the house very cold. It is so new, and I am so subject to colds in my head. Amelia says we shall find it very cold; but then she was always against our going there."
"The house will do very well," said Crosbie. And Alexandrina could perceive that there was something of the master in his tone as he spoke.
"I am only telling you what Amelia said," she replied.
Had Lily been his bride, and had he spoken to her of their future life and mutual duties, how she would have kindled to the theme! She would have knelt at his feet on the floor of the carriage, and, looking up into his face, would have promised him to do her best,—her best,—her very best. And with what an eagerness of inward resolution would she have determined to keep her promise. He thought of all this now, but he knew that he ought not to think of it. Then, for some quarter of an hour, he did take out his newspaper, and she, when she saw him do so, did take out her novel.
He took out his newspaper, but he could not fix his mind upon the politics of the day. Had he not made a terrible mistake? Of what use to him in life would be that thing of a woman that sat opposite to him? Had not a great punishment come upon him, and had he not deserved the punishment? In truth, a great punishment had come upon him. It was not only that he had married a woman incapable of understanding the higher duties of married life, but that he himself would have been capable of appreciating the value of a woman who did understand them. He would have been happy with Lily Dale; and therefore we may surmise that his unhappiness with Lady Alexandrina would be the greater. There are men who, in marrying such as Lady Alexandrina de Courcy, would get the article best suited to them, as Mortimer Gazebee had done in marrying her sister. Miss Griselda Grantly, who had become Lady Dumbello, though somewhat colder and somewhat cleverer than Lady Alexandrina, had been of the same sort. But in marrying her, Lord Dumbello had got the article best suited to him;—if only the ill-natured world would allow him to keep the article. It was in this that Crosbie's failure had been so grievous,—that he had seen and approved the better course, but had chosen for himself to walk in that which was worse. During that week at Courcy Castle,—the week which he passed there immediately after his second visit to Allington,—he had deliberately made up his mind that he was more fit for the bad course than for the good one. The course was now before him, and he had no choice but to walk in it.
It was very cold when they got to Folkestone, and Lady Alexandrina shivered as she stepped into the private-looking carriage which had been sent to the station for her use.
"We shall find a good fire in the parlour at the hotel," said Crosbie.
"Oh, I hope so," said Alexandrina, "and in the bedroom too."
The young husband felt himself to be offended, but he hardly knew why. He felt himself to be offended, and with difficulty induced himself to go through all those little ceremonies the absence of which would have been remarked by everybody. He did his work, however, seeing to all her shawls and wrappings, speaking with good-nature to Hannah, and paying special attention to the dressing-case.
"What time would you like to dine?" he asked, as he prepared to leave her alone with Hannah in the bedroom.
"Whenever you please; only I should like some tea and bread-and-butter presently."
Crosbie went into the sitting-room, ordered the tea and bread-and-butter, ordered also the dinner, and then stood himself up with his back to the fire, in order that he might think a little of his future career.
He was a man who had long since resolved that his life should be a success. It would seem that all men would so resolve, if the matter were simply one of resolution. But the majority of men, as I take it, make no such resolution, and very many men resolve that they will be unsuccessful. Crosbie, however, had resolved on success, and had done much towards carrying out his purpose. He had made a name for himself, and had acquired a certain fame. That, however, was, as he acknowledged to himself, departing from him. He looked the matter straight in the face, and told himself that his fashion must be abandoned; but the office remained to him. He might still rule over Mr Optimist, and make a subservient slave of Butterwell. That must be his line in life now, and to that line he would endeavour to be true. As to his wife and his home,—he would look to them for his breakfast, and perhaps his dinner. He would have a comfortable arm-chair, and if Alexandrina should become a mother he would endeavour to love his children; but above all things he would never think of Lily. After that he stood and thought of her for half an hour.
"If you please, sir, my lady wants to know at what time you have ordered dinner."
"At seven, Hannah."
"My lady says she is very tired, and will lie down till dinner-time."
"Very well, Hannah. I will go into her room when it is time to dress. I hope they are making you comfortable downstairs?"
Then Crosbie strolled out on the pier in the dusk of the cold winter evening.
XLVI. John Eames at His Office