The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope (the kiss of deception read online txt) 📕
Description
The Small House at Allington was originally serialized in Cornhill Magazine between July and December 1862. It is the fifth book in Trollope’s Chronicles of Barsetshire series, being largely set in that fictious county of England. It includes a few of the characters from the earlier books, though largely in very minor roles. It could also be said to be the first of Trollope’s Palliser series, as it introduces Plantagenet Palliser as the heir to the Duke of Omnium.
The major story, however, relates to the inhabitants of the Small House at the manor of Allington. The Small House was once the Dower House of the estate (a household where the widowed mother of the squire might live, away from the Great House). Now living there, however, is Mary Dale, the widow of the squire’s brother, and her two daughters, Isabella (Bell) and Lilian (Lily). The main focus of the novel is on Lily Dale, who is courted by Adolphus Crosbie, a friend of the squire’s nephew. In a matter of a few weeks, Lily falls deeply in love with Crosbie, who quickly proposes to her and is accepted. A few weeks later, however, Crosbie is visiting Courcy Castle and decides an alliance with the Earl’s daughter Alexandrina would be far preferable from a social and monetary point of view. Without speaking to Lily, he abruptly changes his plans and asks Alexandrina to marry him instead. This act of betrayal is devastating to Lily and her family.
This novel, along with the other titles in the Barsetshire series, was turned into a radio play for Radio 4 in the United Kingdom in the late 1990s. The British Prime Minister John Major was recorded in the 1990s as saying that The Small House at Allington was his favorite book.
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- Author: Anthony Trollope
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Many questions on that first day were asked him about the glories of his Christmas, but he had very little to say on the subject. Indeed nothing could have been much more commonplace than his Christmas visit, had it not been for the one great object which had taken him down to that part of the country, and for the circumstance with which his holiday had been ended. On neither of these subjects was he disposed to speak openly; but as he walked home to Burton Crescent with Cradell, he did tell him of the affair with Crosbie.
“And you went in at him on the station?” asked Cradell, with admiring doubt.
“Yes, I did. If I didn’t do it there, where was I to do it? I’d said I would, and therefore when I saw him I did it.” Then the whole affair was told as to the black eye, the police, and the superintendent. “And what’s to come next?” asked our hero.
“Well, he’ll put it in the hands of a friend, of course; as I did with Fisher in that affair with Lupex. And, upon my word, Johnny, I shall have to do something of the kind again. His conduct last night was outrageous; would you believe it—”
“Oh, he’s a fool.”
“He’s a fool you wouldn’t like to meet when he’s in one of his mad fits, I can tell you that. I absolutely had to sit up in my own bedroom all last night. Mother Roper told me that if I remained in the drawing-room she would feel herself obliged to have a policeman in the house. What could I do, you know? I made her have a fire for me, of course.”
“And then you went to bed.”
“I waited ever so long, because I thought that Maria would want to see me. At last she sent me a note. Maria is so imprudent, you know. If he had found anything in her writing, it would have been terrible, you know—quite terrible. And who can say whether Jemima mayn’t tell?”
“And what did she say?”
“Come; that’s tellings, Master Johnny. I took very good care to take it with me to the office this morning, for fear of accidents.”
But Eames was not so widely awake to the importance of his friend’s adventures as he might have been had he not been weighted with adventures of his own.
“I shouldn’t care so much,” said he, “about that fellow Crosbie going to a friend, as I should about his going to a police magistrate.”
“He’ll put it in a friend’s hands, of course,” said Cradell, with the air of a man who from experience was well up in such matters. “And I suppose you’ll naturally come to me. It’s a deuced bore to a man in a public office, and all that kind of thing, of course. But I’m not the man to desert my friend. I’ll stand by you, Johnny, my boy.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Eames, “I don’t think that I shall want that.”
“You must be ready with a friend, you know.”
“I should write down to a man I know in the country, and ask his advice,” said Eames; “an older sort of friend, you know.”
“By Jove, old fellow, take care what you’re about. Don’t let them say of you that you show the white feather. Upon my honour, I’d sooner have anything said of me than that. I would, indeed—anything.”
“I’m not afraid of that,” said Eames, with a touch of scorn in his voice. “There isn’t much thought about white feathers nowadays—not in the way of fighting duels.”
After that, Cradell managed to carry back the conversation to Mrs. Lupex and his own peculiar position, and as Eames did not care to ask from his companion further advice in his own matters, he listened nearly in silence till they reached Burton Crescent.
“I hope you found the noble earl well,” said Mrs. Roper to him, as soon as they were all seated at dinner.
“I found the noble earl pretty well, thank you,” said Johnny.
It had become plainly understood by all the Roperites that Eames’s position was quite altered since he had been honoured with the friendship of Lord De Guest. Mrs. Lupex, next to whom he always sat at dinner, with a view to protecting her as it were from the dangerous neighbourhood of Cradell, treated him with a marked courtesy. Miss Spruce always called him “sir.” Mrs. Roper helped him the first of the gentlemen, and was mindful about his fat and gravy, and Amelia felt less able than she was before to insist upon the possession of his heart and affections. It must not be supposed that Amelia intended to abandon the fight, and allow the enemy to walk off with his forces; but she felt herself constrained to treat him with a deference that was hardly compatible with the perfect equality which should attend any union of hearts.
“It is such a privilege to be on visiting terms with the nobility,” said Mrs. Lupex. “When I was a girl, I used to be very intimate—”
“You ain’t a girl any longer, and so you’d better not talk about it,” said Lupex. Mr. Lupex had been at that little shop in Drury Lane after he came down from his scene-painting.
“My dear, you needn’t be a brute to me before all Mrs. Roper’s company. If, led away by feelings which I will not now describe, I left my proper circles in marrying you, you need not before all the world teach me how much I have to regret.” And Mrs. Lupex, putting down her knife and fork, applied her handkerchief to her eyes.
“That’s pleasant for a man over his meals, isn’t it?” said Lupex, appealing to Miss Spruce. “I have plenty of that kind of thing, and you can’t think how I like it.”
“Them whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder,” said Miss
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