The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope (the kiss of deception read online txt) 📕

feared that he might lose her by any such disclosures. He had no fear of losing her. Alas! might it not be possible that he had some such hope!

He told her that his past life had been expensive; that, though he was not in debt, he had lived up to every shilling that he had, and that he had contracted habits of expenditure which it would be almost impossible for him to lay aside at a day’s notice. Then he spoke of entanglements, meaning, as he did so, to explain more fully what were their nature⁠—but not daring to do so when he found that Lily was altogether in the dark as to what he meant. No; he was not a generous man⁠—a very ungenerous man. And yet, during all this time, he thought that he was guided by principle. “It will be best that I should be honest with her,” he said to himself. And then he told himself, scores of times, that when making his offer he had expected, and had a right to expect, that she would not be penniless. Under those circumstances he had done the best he could for her⁠—offering her his heart honestly, with a quick readiness to make her his own at the earliest day that she might think possible. Had he been more cautious, he need not have fallen into this cruel mistake; but she, at any rate, could not quarrel with him for his imprudence. And still he was determined to stand by his engagement and willing to marry her, although, as he the more thought of it, he felt the more strongly that he would thereby ruin his prospects, and thrust beyond his own reach all those good things which he had hoped to win. As he continued to talk to her he gave himself special credit for his generosity, and felt that he was only doing his duty by her in pointing out to her all the difficulties which lay in the way of their marriage.

At first Lily said some words intended to convey an assurance that she would be the most economical wife that man ever had, but she soon ceased from such promises as these. Her perceptions were keen, and she discovered that the difficulties of which he was afraid were those which he must overcome before his marriage, not any which might be expected to overwhelm him after it. “A cheap and nasty ménage would be my aversion,” he said to her. “It is that which I want to avoid⁠—chiefly for your sake.” Then she promised him that she would wait patiently for his time⁠—“even though it should be for seven years,” she said, looking up into his face and trying to find there some sign of approbation. “That’s nonsense,” he said. “People are not patriarchs nowadays. I suppose we shall have to wait two years. And that’s a deuce of a bore⁠—a terrible bore.” And there was that in the tone of his voice which grated on her feelings, and made her wretched for the moment.

As he parted with her for the night on her own side of the little bridge which led from one garden to the other, he put his arm round her to embrace her and kiss her, as he had often done at that spot. It had become a habit with them to say their evening farewells there, and the secluded little nook amongst the shrubs was inexpressibly dear to Lily. But on the present occasion she made an effort to avoid his caress. She turned from him⁠—very slightly, but it was enough, and he felt it. “Are you angry with me?” he said. “Oh, no! Adolphus; how can I be angry with you?” And then she turned to him and gave him her face to kiss almost before he had again asked for it. “He shall not at any rate think that I am unkind to him⁠—and it will not matter now,” she said to herself, as she walked slowly across the lawn, in the dark, up to her mother’s drawing-room window.

“Well, dearest,” said Mrs. Dale, who was there alone; “did the beards wag merry in the Great Hall this evening?” That was a joke with them, for neither Crosbie nor Bernard Dale used a razor at his toilet.

“Not specially merry. And I think it was my fault, for I have a headache. Mamma, I believe I will go at once to bed.”

“My darling, is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing, mamma. But we had such a long ride; and then Adolphus is going, and of course we have so much to say. Tomorrow will be the last day, for I shall only just see him on Wednesday morning; and as I want to be well, if possible, I’ll go to bed.” And so she took her candle and went.

When Bell came up, Lily was still awake, but she begged her sister not to disturb her. “Don’t talk to me, Bell,” she said. “I’m trying to make myself quiet, and I half feel that I should get childish if I went on talking. I have almost more to think of than I know how to manage.” And she strove, not altogether unsuccessfully, to speak with a cheery tone, as though the cares which weighed upon her were not unpleasant in their nature. Then her sister kissed her and left her to her thoughts.

And she had great matter for thinking; so great, that many hours sounded in her ears from the clock on the stairs before she brought her thoughts to a shape that satisfied herself. She did so bring them at last, and then she slept. She did so bring them, toiling over her work with tears that made her pillow wet, with heartburning and almost with heartbreaking, with much doubting, and many anxious, eager inquiries within her own bosom as to that which she ought to do, and that which she could endure to do. But at last her resolve was taken, and