The Small House at Allington

'He must take his chance,' said Bell, thinking within her own mind that that chance would be a very bad one.

'Of course he must take his chance. Well,—I'll get up now.' And then she took her first step out into the cold world beyond her bed. 'We must all take our chance. I have made up my mind that it will be at half-past eleven.'

When half-past eleven came, she was seated in a large easy chair over the drawing-room fire, with a little table by her side, on which a novel was lying. She had not opened her book that morning, and had been sitting for some time perfectly silent, with her eyes closed, and her watch in her hand.

'Mamma,' she said at last, 'it is over now, I'm sure.'

'What is over, my dear?'

'He has made that lady his wife. I hope God will bless them, and I pray that they may be happy.' As she spoke these words, there was an unwonted solemnity in her tone which startled Mrs Dale and Bell.

'I also will hope so,' said Mrs Dale. 'And now, Lily, will it not be well that you should turn your mind away from the subject, and endeavour to think of other things?'

'But I can't, mamma. It is so easy to say that; but people can't choose their own thoughts.'

'They can usually direct them as they will, if they make the effort.'

'But I can't make the effort. Indeed, I don't know why I should. It seems natural to me to think about him, and I don't suppose it can be very wrong. When you have had so deep an interest in a person, you can't drop him all of a sudden.' Then there was again silence, and after a while Lily took up her novel. She made that effort of which her mother had spoken, but she made it altogether in vain. 'I declare, Bell,' she said, 'it's the greatest rubbish I ever attempted to read.' This was specially ungrateful, because Bell had recommended the book. 'All the books have got to be so stupid! I think I'll read Pilgrim's Progress again.'

'What do you say to Robinson Crusoe?' said Bell.

'Or Paul and Virginia?' said Lily. 'But I believe I'll have Pilgrim's Progress. I never can understand it, but I rather think that makes it nicer.'

'I hate books I can't understand,' said Bell. 'I like a book to be clear as running water, so that the whole meaning may be seen at once.'

'The quick seeing of the meaning must depend a little on the reader, must it not?' said Mrs Dale.

'The reader mustn't be a fool, of course,' said Bell.

'But then so many readers are fools,' said Lily. 'And yet they get something out of their reading. Mrs Crump is always poring over the Revelations, and nearly knows them by heart. I don't think she could interpret a single image, but she has a hazy, misty idea of the truth. That's why she likes it,—because it's too beautiful to be understood; and that's why I like Pilgrim's Progress.' After which Bell offered to get the book in question.

'No, not now,' said Lily. 'I'll go on with this, as you say it's so grand. The personages are always in their tantrums, and go on as though they were mad. Mamma, do you know where they're going for the honeymoon?'

'No, my dear.'

'He used to talk to me about going to the lakes.' And then there was another pause, during which Bell observed that her mother's face became clouded with anxiety. 'But I won't think of it any more,' continued Lily; 'I will fix my mind to something.' And then she got up from her chair. 'I don't think it would have been so difficult if I had not been ill.'

'Of course it would not, my darling.'

'And I'm going to be well again now, immediately. Let me see: I was told to read Carlyle's History of the French Revolution, and I think I'll begin now.' It was Crosbie who had told her to read the book, as both Bell and Mrs Dale were well aware. 'But I must put it off till I can get it down from the other house.'

'Jane shall fetch it, if you really want it,' said Mrs Dale.

'Bell shall get it, when she goes up in the afternoon; will you, Bell? And I'll try to get on with this stuff in the meantime.' Then again she sat with her eyes fixed upon the pages of the book. 'I'll tell you what, mamma,—you may have some comfort in this: that when to-day's gone by, I shan't make a fuss about any other day.'

'Nobody thinks that you are making a fuss, Lily.'

'Yes, but I am. Isn't it odd, Bell, that it should take place on