The Last Chronicle of Barset

  CHAPTER XLVI.

  THE BAYSWATER ROMANCE.

  Eames had by no means done his work for that evening when he left Mr.Dale and Lily at their lodgings. He had other business on hand towhich he had promised to give attention, and another person to seewho would welcome his coming quite as warmly, though by no means aspleasantly, as Lily Dale. It was then just nine o'clock, and as hehad told Miss Demolines,--Madalina we may as well call her now,--thathe would be in Porchester Terrace by nine at the latest, it wasincumbent on him to make haste. He got into a cab, and bid the cabmandrive hard, and lighting a cigar, began to inquire of himself whetherit was well for him to hurry away from the presence of Lily Daleto that of Madalina Demolines. He felt that he was half-ashamed ofwhat he was doing. Though he declared to himself over and over againthat he never had said a word, and never intended to say a word, toMadalina, which all the world might not hear, yet he knew that he wasdoing amiss. He was doing amiss, and half repented it, and yet hewas half proud of it. He was most anxious to be able to give himselfcredit for his constancy to Lily Dale; to be able to feel that hewas steadfast in his passion and yet he liked the idea of amusinghimself with his Bayswater romance, as he would call it, and was notwithout something of conceit as he thought of the progress he hadmade in it. "Love is one thing and amusement is another," he said tohimself as he puffed the cigar-smoke out of his mouth; and in hisheart he was proud of his own capacity for enjoyment. He thought ita fine thing, although at the same moment he knew it to be an evilthing--this hurrying away from the young lady whom he really lovedto another as to whom he thought it very likely that he should becalled upon to pretend to love her. And he sang a little song as hewent, "If she be not fair for me, what care I how fair she be." Thatwas intended to apply to Lily, and was used as an excuse for hisfickleness in going to Miss Demolines. And he was, perhaps, too, alittle conceited as to his mission to the Continent. Lily had toldhim that she was very glad that he was going; that she thought himvery right to go. The words had been pleasant to his ears, and Lilyhad never looked prettier in his eyes than when she had spoken them.Johnny, therefore, was rather proud of himself as he sat in the cabsmoking his cigar. He had, moreover, beaten his old enemy Sir RaffleBuffle in another contest, and he felt that the world was smiling onhim;--that the world was smiling on him in spite of his cruel fate inthe matter of his real lovesuit.

  There was a mystery about the Bayswater romance which was not withoutits allurement, and a portion of the mystery was connected withMadalina's mother. Lady Demolines was very rarely seen, and JohnEames could not quite understand what was the manner of life of thatunfortunate lady. Her daughter usually spoke of her with affectionateregret as being unable to appear on that particular occasion onaccount of some passing malady. She was suffering from a nervousheadache, or was afflicted with bronchitis, or had been touched withrheumatism, so that she was seldom on the scene when Johnny waspassing his time at Porchester Terrace. And yet he heard of herdining out, and going to plays and operas; and when he did chanceto see her, he found that she was a sprightly old woman enough. Iwill not venture to say that he much regretted the absence of LadyDemolines, or that he was keenly alive to the impropriety of beingleft alone with the gentle Madalina; but the customary absence ofthe elder lady was an incident in the romance which did not fail tostrike him.

  Madalina was alone when he was shown up into the drawing-room on theevening of which we are speaking.

  "Mr. Eames," she said, "will you kindly look at that watch which islying on the table." She looked full at him with her great eyes wideopen, and the tone of her voice was intended to show him that she wasaggrieved.

  "Yes, I see it," said John, looking down on Miss Demolines' littlegold Geneva watch, with which he had already made sufficientacquaintance to know that it was worth nothing. "Shall I give ityou?"

  "No, Mr. Eames; let it remain there, that it may remind me, if itdoes not remind you, by how long a time you have broken your word."

  "Upon my word I couldn't help it;--upon my honour I couldn't."

  "Upon your honour, Mr. Eames!"

  "I was obliged to go and see a friend who has just come to town frommy part of the country."

  "That is the friend, I suppose, of whom I have heard from Maria."It is to be feared that Conway Dalrymple had not been so guarded ashe should have been in some of his conversations with Mrs. DobbsBroughton, and that a word or two had escaped from him as to the loveof John Eames for Lily Dale.

  "I don't know what you may have heard," said Johnny, "but I wasobliged to see these people before I left town. There is going to bea marriage and all that sort of thing."

  "Who is going to be married?"

  "One Captain Dale is going to be married to one Miss Dunstable."

  "Oh! And as to one Miss Lily Dale,--is she to be married to anybody?"

  "Not that I have heard of," said Johnny.

  "She is not going to become the wife of one Mr. John Eames?"

  He did not wish to talk to Miss Demolines about Lily Dale. He did notchoose to disown the imputation, or to acknowledge its truth.

  "Silence gives consent," she said. "If it be so, I congratulate you.I have no doubt she is a most charming young woman. It is about sevenyears, I believe, since that little affair with Mr. Crosbie, andtherefore that, I suppose, may be considered as forgotten."

  "It is only three years," said Johnny, angrily. "Besides, I don'tknow what that has to do with it."

  "You need not be ashamed," said Madalina. "I have heard how well youbehaved on that occasion. You were quite the preux chevalier; andif any gentleman ever deserved well of a lady you deserved well ofher. I wonder how Mr. Crosbie felt when he met you the other day atMaria's. I had not heard anything about it then, or I should havebeen much more interested in watching your meeting."

  "I really can't say how he felt."

  "I daresay not; but I saw him shake hands with you. And so Lily Dalehas come to town?"

  "Yes,--Miss Dale is here with her uncle."

  "And you are going away to-morrow?"

  "Yes,--and I am going away to-morrow."

  After that there was a pause in the conversation. Eames was sick ofit, and was very anxious to change the conversation. Miss Demolineswas sitting in the shadow, away from the light, with her face halfhidden by her hands. At last she jumped up, and came round and stoodopposite to him. "I charge you to tell me truly, John Eames," shesaid, "whether Miss Lilian Dale is engaged to you as your futurewife?" He looked up into her face, but made no immediate answer. Thenshe repeated her demand. "I ask you whether you are engaged to marryMiss Lilian Dale, and I expect a reply."

  "What makes you ask me such a question as that?"

  "What makes me ask you? Do you deny my right to feel so much interestin you as to desire to know whether you are about to be married? Ofcourse you can decline to tell me if you choose."

  "And if I were to decline?"

  "I should know then that it was true, and I should think that youwere a coward."

  "I don't see any cowardice in the matter. One does not talk aboutthat kind of thing to everybody."

  "Upon my word, Mr. Eames, you are complimentary;--indeed you are. Toeverybody! I am everybody,--am I? That is your idea of--friendship!You may be sure that after that I shall ask no further questions."

  "I didn't mean it in the way you've taken it, Madalina."

  "In what way did you mean it, sir? Everybody! Mr. Eames, you mustexcuse me if I say that I am not well enough this evening to bear thecompany of--everybody. I think you had better leave me. I think thatyou had better go."

  "Are you angry with me?"

  "Yes, I am,--very angry. Because I have condescended to feel aninterest in your welfare, and have asked you a question which Ithought that our intimacy justified, you tell me that that is a kindof thing that you will not talk about to--everybody. I beg you tounderstand that I will not be your everybody. Mr. Eames, there is thedoor."

  Things had now become very serious. Hitherto Johnny had
been seatedcomfortably in the corner of a sofa, and had not found himself boundto move, though Miss Demolines was standing before him. But now itwas absolutely necessary that he should do something. He must eithergo, or else he must make entreaty to be allowed to remain. Would itnot be expedient that he should take the lady at her word and escape?She was still pointing to the door, and the way was open to him. Ifhe were to walk out now of course he would never return, and therewould be the end of the Bayswater romance. If he remained it mightbe that the romance would become troublesome. He got up from hisseat, and had almost resolved that he would go. Had she not somewhatrelaxed the majesty of her anger as he rose, had the fire of hereye not been somewhat quenched and the lines of her mouth softened,I think that he would have gone. The romance would have been over,and he would have felt that it had come to an inglorious end; but itwould have been well for him that he should have gone. Though thefire was somewhat quenched and the lines were somewhat softened, shewas still pointing to the door. "Do you mean it?" he said.

  "I do mean it,--certainly."

  "And this is to be the end of everything?"

  "I do not know what you mean by everything. It is a very littleeverything to you, I should say. I do not quite understand youreverything and your everybody."

  "I will go, if you wish me to go, of course."

  "I do wish it."

  "But before I go, you must permit me to excuse myself. I did notintend to offend you. I merely meant--"

  "You merely meant! Give me an honest answer to a downright question.Are you engaged to Miss Lilian Dale?"

  "No;--I am not."

  "Upon your honour?"

  "Do you think that I would tell you a falsehood about it? What Imeant was that it is a kind of thing one doesn't like talking about,merely because stories are bandied about. People are so fond ofsaying that this man is engaged to that woman, and of making uptales; and it seems to be so foolish to contradict such things."

  "But you know that you used to be very fond of her?"

  He had taken up his hat when he had risen from the sofa, and wasstill standing with it ready in his hand. He was even now half-mindedto escape; and the name of Lily Dale in Miss Demolines' mouth was sodistasteful to him that he would have done so,--he would have gonein sheer disgust, had she not stood in his way, so that he could notescape without moving her, or going round behind the sofa. She didnot stir to make way for him, and it may be that she understood thathe was her prisoner, in spite of her late command to him to go. Itmay be, also, that she understood his vexation and the cause of it,and that she saw the expediency of leaving Lily Dale alone for thepresent. At any rate, she pressed him no more upon the matter. "Arewe to be friends again?" she said.

  "I hope so," replied Johnny.

  "There is my hand, then." So Johnny took her hand and pressed it,and held it a little while,--just long enough to seem to give ameaning to the action. "You will get to understand me some day," shesaid, "and will learn that I do not like to be reckoned among theeverybodies by those for whom I really--really--really have a regard.When I am angry, I am angry."

  "You were very angry just now, when you showed me the way to thedoor."

  "And I meant it too,--for the minute. Only think,--supposing you hadgone! We should never have seen each other again;--never, never! Whata change one word may make!"

  "One word often does make a change."

  "Does it not? Just a little 'yes,' or 'no.' A 'no' is said when a'yes' is meant, and then there comes no second chance, and what achange that may be from bright hopes to desolation! Or, worse again,a 'yes' is said when a 'no' should be said,--when the speaker knowsthat it should be 'no.' What a difference that 'no' makes! When onethinks of it, one wonders that a woman should ever say anything but'no.'"

  "They never did say anything else to me," said Johnny.

  "I don't believe it. I daresay the truth is, you never askedanybody."

  "Did anybody ever ask you?"

  "What would you give to know? But I will tell you frankly;--yes. Andonce,--once I thought that my answer would not have been a 'no.'"

  "But you changed your mind?"

  "When the moment came I could not bring myself to say the word thatshould rob me of my liberty for ever. I had said 'no' to him oftenenough before,--poor fellow; and on this occasion he told me that heasked for the last time. 'I shall not give myself another chance,'he said, 'for I shall be on board ship within a week.' I merely badehim good-by. It was the only answer I gave him. He understood me, andsince that day his foot has never pressed his native soil."

  "And was it all because you are so fond of your liberty?" saidJohnny.

  "Perhaps,--I did not--love him," said Miss Demolines, thoughtfully.She was now again seated in her chair, and John Eames had gone backto his corner of the sofa. "If I had really loved him I suppose itwould have been otherwise. He was a gallant fellow, and had twothousand a year of his own, in India stock and other securities."

  "Dear me! And he has not married yet?"

  "He wrote me word to say that he would never marry till I wasmarried,--but that on the day that he should hear of my wedding, hewould go to the first single woman near him and propose. It was adroll thing to say; was it not?"

  "The single woman ought to feel herself flattered."

  "He would find plenty to accept him. Besides being so well off he wasa very handsome fellow, and is connected with people of title. He hadeverything to recommend him."

  "And yet you refused him so often?"

  "Yes. You think I was foolish;--do you not?"

  "I don't think you were at all foolish if you didn't care for him."

  "It was my destiny, I suppose; I daresay I was wrong. Other girlsmarry without violent love, and do very well afterwards. Look atMaria Clutterbuck."

  The name of Maria Clutterbuck had become odious to John Eames. Aslong as Miss Demolines would continue to talk about herself he couldlisten with some amount of gratification. Conversation on thatsubject was the natural progress of the Bayswater romance. And ifMadalina would only call her friend by her present name, he hadno strong objection to an occasional mention of the lady; but thecombined names of Maria Clutterbuck had come to be absolutelydistasteful to him. He did not believe in the Maria Clutterbuckfriendship,--either in its past or present existence, as describedby Madalina. Indeed, he did not put strong faith in anything thatMadalina said to him. In the handsome gentleman with two thousanda year, he did not believe at all. But the handsome gentleman hadonly been mentioned once in the course of his acquaintance with MissDemolines, whereas Maria Clutterbuck had come up so often! "Upon myword I must wish you good-by," he said. "It is going on for eleveno'clock, and I have to start to-morrow at seven."

  "What difference does that make?"

  "A fellow wants to get a little sleep, you know."

  "Go then;--go and get your sleep. What a sleepy-headed generation itis." Johnny longed to ask her whether the last generation was lesssleepy-headed, and whether the gentleman with two thousand a yearhad sat up talking all night before he pressed his foot for the lasttime on his native soil; but he did not dare. As he said to himselfafterwards, "It would not do to bring the Bayswater romance toosuddenly to its termination!" "But before you go," she continued,"I must say the word to you about that picture. Did you speak to Mr.Dalrymple?"

  "I did not. I have been so busy with different things that I have notseen him."

  "And now you are going?"

  "Well,--to tell the truth, I think I shall see him to-night, in spiteof my being so sleepy-headed. I wrote him a line that I would look inand smoke a cigar with him if he chanced to be at home!"

  "And that is why you want to go. A gentleman cannot live without hiscigar now."

  "It is especially at your bidding that I am going to see him."

  "Go, then,--and make your friend understand that if he continues thispicture of his, he will bring himself to great trouble, and willprobably ruin the woman for whom he professes, I presume, to feelsomething like friend
ship. You may tell him that Mrs. Van Siever hasalready heard of it."

  "Who told her?" demanded Johnny.

  "Never mind. You need not look at me like that. It was not I. Do yousuppose that secrets can be kept when so many people know them? Everyservant in Maria's house knows all about it."

  "As for that, I don't suppose Mrs. Broughton makes any great secretof it."

  "Do you think she has told Mr. Broughton? I am sure she has not. Imay say I know she has not. Maria Clutterbuck is infatuated. There isno other excuse to be made for her."

  "Good-by," said Johnny, hurriedly.

  "And you really are going?"

  "Well,--yes. I suppose so."

  "Go then. I have nothing more to say to you."

  "I shall come and call directly I return," said Johnny.

  "You may do as you please about that, sir."

  "Do you mean that you won't be glad to see me again?"

  "I am not going to flatter you, Mr. Eames. Mamma will be well by thattime, I hope, and I do not mind telling you that you are a favouritewith her." Johnny thought that this was particularly kind, as he hadseen so very little of the old lady. "If you choose to call uponher," said Madalina, "of course she will be glad to see you."

  "But I was speaking of yourself, you know?" and Johnny permittedhimself for a moment to look tenderly at her.

  "Then from myself pray understand that I will say nothing to flatteryour self-love."

  "I thought you would be kinder just when I was going away."

  "I think I have been quite kind enough. As you observed yourself justnow, it is nearly eleven o'clock, and I must ask you to go away. Bonvoyage, and a happy return to you."

  "And you will be glad to see me when I am back? Tell me that you willbe glad to see me."

  "I will tell you nothing of the kind. Mr. Eames, if you do, I will bevery angry with you." And then he went.

  On his way back to his own lodgings he did call on Conway Dalrymple,and in spite of his need for early rising, sat smoking with theartist for an hour. "If you don't take care, young man," said hisfriend, "you will find yourself in a scrape with your Madalina."

  "What sort of a scrape?"

  "As you walk away from Porchester Terrace some fine day, you willhave to congratulate yourself on having made a successful overturetowards matrimony."

  "You don't think I am such a fool as that comes to?"

  "Other men as wise as you have done the same sort of thing. MissDemolines is very clever, and I daresay you find it amusing."

  "It isn't so much that she's clever, and I can hardly say that it isamusing. One gets awfully tired of it, you know. But a fellow musthave something to do, and that is as good as anything else."

  "I suppose you have not heard that one young man levanted last yearto save himself from a breach of promise case?"

  "I wonder whether he had any money in Indian securities?"

  "What makes you ask that?"

  "Nothing particular."

  "Whatever little he had he chose to save, and I think I heard that hewent to Canada. His name was Shorter; and they say that, on the eveof his going, Madalina sent him word that she had no objection to thecolonies, and that, under the pressing emergency of his expatriation,she was willing to become Mrs. Shorter with more expedition thanusually attends fashionable weddings. Shorter, however, escaped, andhas never been seen back again."

  Eames declared that he did not believe a word of it. Nevertheless, ashe walked home he came to the conclusion that Mr. Shorter must havebeen the handsome gentleman with Indian securities, to whom "no" hadbeen said once too often.

  While sitting with Conway Dalrymple, he had forgotten to say a wordabout Jael and Sisera.