That nobody should talk to her about it,—that had been the one stipulation which she had seemed to make, not sending forth a request to that effect among her friends in so many words, but showing by certain signs that such was her stipulation. A word to that effect she had spoken to her uncle,—as may be remembered, which word had been regarded with the closest obedience. She had gone out into her little world very soon after the news of Crosbie's falsehood had reached her,—first to church and then among the people of the village, resolving to carry herself as though no crushing weight had fallen upon her. The village people had understood it all, listening to her and answering her without the proffer of any outspoken parley.
"Lord bless 'ee," said Mrs Crump, the postmistress,—and Mrs Crump was supposed to have the sourest temper in Allington,—"whenever I look at thee, Miss Lily, I thinks that surely thee is the beautifulest young 'ooman in all these parts."
"And you are the crossest old woman," said Lily, laughing, and giving her hand to the postmistress.
"So I be," said Mrs Crump. "So I be." Then Lily sat down in the cottage and asked after her ailments. With Mrs Hearn it was the same. Mrs Hearn, after that first meeting which has been already mentioned, petted and caressed her, but spoke no further word of her misfortune. When Lily called a second time upon Mrs Boyce, which she did boldly by herself, that lady did begin one other word of commiseration. "My dearest Lily, we have all been made so unhappy—" So far Mrs Boyce got, sitting close to Lily and striving to look into her face; but Lily, with a slightly heightened colour, turned sharp round upon one of the Boyce girls, tearing Mrs Boyce's commiseration into the smallest shreds. "Minnie," she said, speaking quite loud, almost with girlish ecstasy, "what do you think Tartar did yesterday? I never laughed so much in my life." Then she told a ludicrous story about a very ugly terrier which belonged to the squire. After that even Mrs Boyce made no further attempt. Mrs Dale and Bell both understood that such was to be the rule,—the rule even to them. Lily would speak to them occasionally on the matter,—to one of them at a time, beginning with some almost single word of melancholy resignation, and then would go on till she opened her very bosom before them; but no such conversation was ever begun by them. But now, in these busy days of the packing, that topic seemed to have been banished altogether.
"Mamma," she said, standing on the top rung of a house-ladder, from which position she was handing down glass out of a cupboard, "are you sure that these things are ours? I think some of them belong to the house."
"I'm sure about that bowl at any rate, because it was my mother's before I was married."
"Oh, dear, what should I do if I were to break it? Whenever I handle anything very precious I always feel inclined to throw it down and smash it. Oh! it was as nearly gone as possible, mamma; but that was your fault."
"If you don't take care you'll be nearly gone yourself. Do take hold of something."
"Oh, Bell, here's the inkstand for which you've been moaning for three years."
"I haven't been moaning for three years; but who could have put it up there?"
"Catch it," said Lily; and she threw the bottle down on to a pile of carpets.
At this moment a step was heard in the hall, and the squire entered through the open door of the room. "So you're all at work," said he.
"Yes, we're at work," said Mrs Dale, almost with a tone of shame. "If it is to be done it is as well that it should be got over."
"It makes me wretched enough," said the squire. "But I didn't come to talk about that. I've brought you a note from Lady Julia De Guest, and I've had one from the earl. They want us all to go there and stay the week after Easter."
Mrs Dale and the girls, when this very sudden proposition was made to them, all remained fixed in their place, and, for a moment, were speechless. Go and stay a week at Guestwick Manor! The whole family! Hitherto the intercourse between the Manor and the Small House had been confined to morning calls, very far between. Mrs Dale had never dined there, and had latterly even deputed the calling to her daughters. Once Bell had dined there with her uncle, the squire, and once Lily had gone over with her uncle Orlando. Even this had been long ago, before they were quite brought out, and they had regarded the occasion with the solemn awe of children. Now, at this time of their flitting into some small mean dwelling at Guestwick, they had previously settled among themselves that that affair of calling at the Manor might be allowed to drop. Mrs Eames never called, and they were descending to the level of Mrs Eames. "Perhaps we shall get game sent to us, and that will be better," Lily had said. And now, at this very moment of their descent in life, they were all asked to go and stay a week at the Manor! Stay a week with Lady Julia! Had the Queen sent the Lord Chamberlain down to bid them all go to Windsor Castle it could hardly have startled them more at the first blow. Bell had been seated on the folded carpet when her uncle had entered, and now had again sat herself in the same place. Lily was still standing at the top of the ladder, and Mrs Dale was at the foot with one hand on Lily's dress. The squire had told his story very abruptly, but he was a man who, having a story to tell, knew nothing better than to tell it out abruptly, letting out everything at the first moment.
"Wants us all!" said Mrs Dale. "How many does the all mean?" Then she opened Lady Julia's note and read it, not moving from her position at the foot of the ladder.
"Do let me see, mamma," said Lily; and then the note was handed up to her. Had Mrs Dale well considered the matter she might probably have kept the note to herself for a while, but the whole thing was so sudden that she had not considered the matter well.
My dear Mrs Dale [the letter ran],
I send this inside a note from my brother to Mr Dale. We particularly want you and your two girls to come to us for a week from the seventeenth of this month. Considering our near connection we ought to have seen more of each other than we have done for years past, and of course it has been our fault. But it is never too late to amend one's ways; and I hope you will receive my confession in the true spirit of affection in which it is intended, and that you will show your goodness by coming to us. I will do all I can to make the house pleasant to your girls, for both of whom I have much real regard.
I should tell you that John Eames will be here for the same week. My brother is very fond of him, and thinks him the best young man of the day. He is one of my heroes, too, I must confess.
Very sincerely yours,
Julia De Guest.
Lily, standing on the ladder, read the letter very attentively. The squire meanwhile stood below speaking a word or two to his sister-in-law and niece. No one could see Lily's face, as it was turned away towards the window, and it was still averted when she spoke. "It is out of the question that we should go, mamma;—that is, all of us."
"Why out of the question?" said the squire.
"A whole family!" said Mrs Dale.
"That is just what they want," said the squire.
"I should like of all things to be left alone for a week," said Lily, "if mamma and Bell would go."