"That wouldn't do at all," said the squire. "Lady Julia specially wants you to be one of the party."
The thing had been badly managed altogether. The reference in Lady Julia's note to John Eames had explained to Lily the whole scheme at once, and had so opened her eyes that all the combined influence of the Dale and De Guest families could not have dragged her over to the Manor.
"Why not do?" said Lily. "It would be out of the question, a whole family going in that way, but it would be very nice for Bell."
"No, it would not," said Bell.
"Don't be ungenerous about it, my dear," said the squire turning to Bell; "Lady Julia means to be kind. But, my darling," and the squire turned again towards Lily, addressing her, as was his wont in these days, with an affection that was almost vexatious to her; "but, my darling, why should you not go? A change of scene like that will do you all the good in the world, just when you are getting well. Mary, tell the girls they ought to go."
Mrs Dale stood silent, again reading the note, and Lily came down from the ladder. When she reached the floor she went directly up to her uncle, and taking his hand turned him round with herself towards one of the windows, so that they stood with their backs to the room. "Uncle," she said, "do not be angry with me. I can't go;" and then she put up her face to kiss him.
He stooped and kissed her and still held her hand. He looked into her face and read it all. He knew well, now, why she could not go; or, rather, why she herself thought that she could not go. "Cannot you, my darling?" he said.
"No, uncle. It is very kind,—very kind; but I cannot go. I am not fit to go anywhere."
"But you should get over that feeling. You should make a struggle."
"I am struggling, and I shall succeed; but I cannot do it all at once. At any rate I could not go there. You must give my love to Lady Julia, and not let her think me cross. Perhaps Bell will go."
What would be the good of Bell's going,—or the good of his putting himself out of the way, by a visit which would of itself be so tiresome to him, if the one object of the visit could not be carried out? The earl and his sister had planned the invitation with the express intention of bringing Lily and Eames together. It seemed that Lily was firm in her determination to resist this intention; and, if so, it would be better that the whole thing should fall to the ground. He was very vexed, and yet he was not angry with her. Everybody lately had opposed him in everything. All his intended family arrangements had gone wrong. But yet he was seldom angry respecting them. He was so accustomed to be thwarted that he hardly expected success. In this matter of providing Lily with a second lover, he had not come forward of his own accord. He had been appealed to by his neighbour the earl, and had certainly answered the appeal with much generosity. He had been induced to make the attempt with eagerness, and a true desire for its accomplishment; but in this, as in all his own schemes, he was met at once by opposition and failure.
"I will leave you to talk it over among yourselves," he said. "But, Mary, you had better see me before you send your answer. If you will come up by-and-by, Ralph shall take the two notes over together in the afternoon." So saying, he left the Small House, and went back to his own solitary home.
"Lily, dear," said Mrs Dale, as soon as the front door had been closed, "this is meant for kindness to you,—for most affectionate kindness."
"I know it, mamma; and you must go to Lady Julia, and must tell her that I know it. You must give her my love. And, indeed, I do love her now. But—"
"You won't go, Lily?" said Mrs Dale, beseechingly.
"No, mamma; certainly I will not go." Then she escaped out of the room by herself, and for the next hour neither of them dared to go to her.
L. Mrs Dale Is Thankful for a Good Thing
On that day they dined early at the Small House, as they had been in the habit of doing since the packing had commenced. And after dinner Mrs Dale went through the gardens, up to the other house, with a written note in her hand. In that note she had told Lady Julia, with many protestations of gratitude, that Lily was unable to go out so soon after her illness, and that she herself was obliged to stay with Lily. She explained also, that the business of moving was in hand, and that, therefore, she could not herself accept the invitation. But her other daughter, she said, would be very happy to accompany her uncle to Guestwick Manor. Then, without closing her letter, she took it up to the squire in order that it might be decided whether it would or would not suit his views. It might well be that he would not care to go to Lord De Guest's with Bell alone.
"Leave it with me," he said; "that is, if you do not object."
"Oh dear, no!"
"I'll tell you the plain truth at once, Mary. I shall go over myself with it, and see the earl. Then I will decline it or not, according to what passes between me and him. I wish Lily would have gone."
"Ah! she could not."
"I wish she could. I wish she could. I wish she could." As he repeated the words over and over again, there was an eagerness in his voice that filled Mrs Dale's heart with tenderness towards him.
"The truth is," said Mrs Dale, "she could not go there to meet John Eames."
"Oh, I know," said the squire: "I understand it. But that is just what we want her to do. Why should she not spend a week in the same house with an honest young man whom we all like."
"There are reasons why she would not wish it."
"Ah, exactly; the very reasons which should make us induce her to go there if we can. Perhaps I had better tell you all. Lord De Guest has taken him by the hand, and wishes him to marry. He has promised to settle on him an income which will make him comfortable for life."
"That is very generous; and I am delighted to hear it,—for John's sake."
"And they have promoted him at his office."
"Ah! then he will do well."
"He will do very well. He is private secretary now to their head man. And, Mary, so that she, Lily, should not be empty-handed if their marriage can be arranged, I have undertaken to settle a hundred a year on her,—on her and her children, if she will accept him. Now you know it all. I did not mean to tell you; but it is as well that you should have the means of judging. That other man was a villain. This man is honest. Would it not be well that she should learn to like him? She always did like him, I thought, before that other fellow came down here among us."
"She has always liked him—as a friend."
"She will never get a better lover."
Mrs Dale sat silent, thinking over it all. Every word that the squire said was true. It would be a healing of wounds most desirable and salutary; an arrangement advantageous to them all; a destiny for Lily most devoutly to be desired,—if only it were possible. Mrs Dale firmly believed that if her daughter could be made to accept John Eames as her second lover in a year or two all would be well. Crosbie would then be forgotten or thought of without regret, and Lily would become the mistress of a happy home. But there are positions which cannot be reached, though there be no physical or material objection in the way. It is the view which the mind takes of a thing which creates the sorrow that arises from it. If the heart were always malleable and the feelings could be controlled, who would permit himself to be tormented by any of the reverses which affection meets? Death would create no sorrow, ingratitude would lose its sting; and the betrayal of love would do no injury beyond that which it might entail upon worldly circumstances. But the heart is not malleable; nor will the feelings admit of such control.
"It is not possible for her," said Mrs Dale. "I fear it is not possible. It is too soon."
"Six months," pleaded the squire.
"It will take years,—not months," said Mrs Dale.
"And she will lose all her youth."
"Yes; he has done all that by his treachery. But it is done, and we cannot now go back. She loves him yet as dearly as she ever loved him."