The Small House at Allington | Page 8

Whitehall public office. There was that in him which might have earned better bread for him in an open profession.
But in that matter of his bread the fate of Adolphus Crosbie had by this time been decided for him, and he had reconciled himself to fate that was now inexorable. Some very slight patrimony, a hundred a year or so, had fallen to his share. Beyond that he had his salary from his office, and nothing else; and on his income, thus made up, he had lived as a bachelor in London, enjoying all that London could give him as a man in moderately easy circumstances, and looking forward to no costly luxuries--such as a wife, a house of his own, or a stable full of horses. Those which he did enjoy of the good things of the world would, if known to John Eames, have made him appear fabulously rich in the eyes of that brother clerk. His lodgings in Mount Street were elegant in their belongings. During three months of the season in London he called himself the master of a very neat hack. He was always well dressed, though never over-dressed. At his clubs he could live on equal terms with men having ten times his income. He was not married. He had acknowledged to himself that he could not marry without money; and he would not marry for money. He had put aside from him, as not within his reach, the comforts of marriage. But--We will not, however, at the present moment inquire more curiously into the private life and circumstances of our new friend Adolphus Crosbie.
After the sentence pronounced against him by Lilian, the two girls remained silent for awhile. Bell was, perhaps, a little angry with her sister. It was not often that she allowed herself to say much in praise of any gentleman; and, now that she had spoken a word or two in favour of Mr Crosbie, she felt herself to be rebuked by her sister for this unwonted enthusiasm. Lily was at work on a drawing, and in a minute or two had forgotten all about Mr Crosbie; but the injury remained on Bell's mind and prompted her to go back to the subject." I don't like those slang words, Lily."
"What slang words?"
"You know what you called Bernard's friend."
"Oh; a swell. I fancy I do like slang. I think it's awfully jolly to talk about things being jolly. Only that I was afraid of your nerves I should have called him stunning. It's so slow, you know, to use nothing but words out of a dictionary."
"I don't think it's nice in talking of gentlemen."
"Isn't it? Well, I'd like to be nice--if I knew how." If she knew how! There is no knowing how, for a girl, in that matter. If nature and her mother have not done it for her, there is no hope for her on that head. I think I may say that nature and her mother had been sufficiently efficacious for Lilian Dale in this respect.
"Mr Crosbie is, at any rate, a gentleman, and knows how to make himself pleasant. That was all that I meant. Mamma said a great deal more about him than I did."
"Mr Crosbie is an Apollo; and I always look upon Apollo as the greatest--you know what--that ever lived. I mustn't say the word, because Apollo was a gentleman." At this moment, while the name of the god was still on her lips, the high open window of the drawing-room was darkened, and Bernard entered, followed by Mr Crosbie.
"Who is talking about Apollo?" said Captain Dale.
The girls were both stricken dumb. How would it be with them if Mr Crosbie had heard himself spoken of in those last words of poor Lily's? This was the rashness of which Bell was ever accusing her sister, and here was the result! But, in truth, Bernard had heard nothing more than the name, and Mr Crosbie, who had been behind him, had heard nothing.
"As sweet and musical as bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair," said Mr Crosbie, not meaning much by the quotation, but perceiving that the two girls had been in some way put out and silenced.
"What very bad music it must have made," said Lily; "unless, indeed, his hair was very different from ours."
"It was all sunbeams," suggested Bernard. But by that time Apollo had served his turn, and the ladies welcomed their guests in the proper form.
"Mamma is in the garden," said Bell, with that hypocritical pretence so common with young ladies when young gentlemen call; as though they were aware that mamma was the object specially sought.
"Picking peas, with a sun bonnet on," said Lily.
"Let us by all means go and help her," said Mr Crosbie; and then they issued out