it won't be so very dull when everybody is up in London.'
'I don't find the season makes much difference to us after Christmas,' said Amelia; 'but no doubt London is gayer in May. You'll find you'll like it better next year; and perhaps you'll have a baby, you know.'
'Psha!' ejaculated Lady Alexandrina; 'I don't want a baby, and don't suppose I shall have one.'
'It's always something to do, you know.'
Lady Alexandrina, though she was not of an energetic temperament, could not but confess to herself that she had made a mistake. She had been tempted to marry Crosbie because Crosbie was a man of fashion, and now she was told that the London season would make no difference to her,—the London season which had hitherto always brought to her the excitement of parties, if it had not given her the satisfaction of amusement. She had been tempted to marry because it appeared to her that a married woman could enjoy society with less restraint than a girl who was subject to her mother or her chaperon; that she would have more freedom of action as a married woman; and now she was told that she must wait for a baby before she could have anything to do. Courcy Castle was sometimes dull, but Courcy Castle would have been better than this.
When Crosbie returned home after this little conversation about the baby, he was told by his wife that they were to dine with the Gazebees on the next Sunday. On hearing this he shook his head with vexation. He knew, however, that he had no right to make complaint, as he had been only taken to St. John's Wood once since they had come home from their marriage trip. There was, however, one point as to which he could grumble. 'Why, on earth, on Sunday?'
'Because Amelia asked me for Sunday. If you are asked for Sunday, you cannot say you'll go on Monday.'
'It is so terrible on a Sunday afternoon. At what hour?'
'She said half-past five.'
'Heavens and earth! What are we to do all the evening?'
'It is not kind of you, Adolphus, to speak in that way of my relations.'
'Come, my love, that's a joke; as if I hadn't heard you say the same thing twenty times. You've complained of having to go up there much more bitterly than I ever did. You know I like your sister, and, in his way, Gazebee is a very good fellow; but after three or four hours, one begins to have had enough of him.'
'It can't be much duller than it is—' but Lady Alexandrina stopped herself before she finished her speech.
'One can always read at home, at any rate,' said Crosbie.
'One can't always be reading. However, I have said you would go. If you choose to refuse, you must write and explain.'
When the Sunday came the Crosbies of course did go to St. John's Wood, arriving punctually at that door which he so hated at half-past five. One of the earliest resolutions which he made when he first contemplated the de Courcy match, was altogether hostile to the Gazebees. He would see but very little of them. He would shake himself free of that connection. It was not with that branch of the family that he desired an alliance. But now, as things had gone, that was the only branch of the family with which he seemed to be allied. He was always hearing of the Gazebees. Amelia and Alexandrina were constantly together. He was now dragged there to a Sunday dinner; and he knew that he should often be dragged there,—that he could not avoid such draggings. He already owed money to Mortimer Gazebee, and was aware that his affairs had been allowed to fall into that lawyer's hands in such a way that he could not take them out again. His house was very thoroughly furnished, and he knew that the bills had been paid; but he had not paid them; every shilling had been paid through Mortimer Gazebee.
'Go with your mother and aunt, de Courcy,' the attorney said to the lingering child after dinner; and then Crosbie was left alone with his wife's brother-in-law. This was the period of the St. John's Wood purgatory which was so dreadful to him. With his sister-in-law he could talk, remembering perhaps always that she was an earl's daughter. But with Gazebee he had nothing in common. And he felt that Gazebee, who had once treated him with great deference, had now lost all such feeling. Crosbie had once been a man of fashion in the estimation of the attorney, but that was all over. Crosbie, in the attorney's estimation, was now simply the secretary of a public office,—a man who owed him money. The two had married sisters, and there was no reason why the light of the prosperous attorney should pale before that of the civil servant, who was not very prosperous. All this was understood thoroughly by both the men.
'There's terrible bad news from Courcy,' said the attorney, as soon as the boy was gone.
'Why; what's the matter?'
'Porlock has married—that woman, you know.'
