The Last Chronicle of Barset

thoughts upon life in general, and she repeated to herself over and over again the two words which she had told John Eames that she would write in her journal. The reader will remember those two words;⁠—Old Maid. And she had written them in her book, making each letter a capital, and round them she had drawn a scroll, ornamented after her own fashion, and she had added the date in quaintly formed figures⁠—for in such matters Lily had some little skill and a dash of fun to direct it; and she had inscribed below it an Italian motto⁠—“Who goes softly, goes safely;” and above her work of art she had put a heading⁠—“As arranged by Fate for L. D.” Now she thought of all this, and reflected whether Emily Dunstable was in truth very happy. Presently the tears came into her eyes, and she got up and went to the window, as though she were afraid that her uncle might wake and see them. And as she looked out on the blank street, she muttered a word or two⁠—“Dear mother! Dearest mother!” Then the door was opened, and her cousin Bernard announced himself. She had not heard his knock at the door as she had been thinking of the two words in her book.

“What; Bernard!⁠—ah, yes, of course,” said the squire, rubbing his eyes as he strove to wake himself. “I wasn’t sure you would come, but I’m delighted to see you. I wish you joy with all my heart⁠—with all my heart.”

“Of course, I should come,” said Bernard. “Dear Lily, this is so good of you. Emily is so delighted.” Then Lily spoke her congratulations warmly, and there was no trace of a tear in her eyes, and she was thoroughly happy as she sat by her cousin’s side and listened to his raptures about Emily Dunstable. “And you will be so fond of her aunt,” he said.

“But is she not awfully rich?” said Lily.

“Frightfully rich,” said Bernard; “but really you would hardly find it out if nobody told you. Of course she lives in a big house, and has a heap of servants; but she can’t help that.”

“I hate a heap of servants,” said Lily.

Then there came another knock at the door, and who should enter the room but John Eames. Lily for a moment was taken aback, but it was only for a moment. She had been thinking so much of him that his presence disturbed her for an instant. “He probably will not know that I am here,” she had said to herself; but she had not yet been three hours in London, and he was already with her! At first he hardly spoke to her, addressing himself to the squire. “Lady Julia told me you were to be here, and as I start for the Continent early tomorrow morning, I thought you would let me come and see you before I went.”

“I’m always glad to see you, John,” said the squire⁠—“very glad. And so you’re going abroad, are you?”

Then Johnny congratulated his old acquaintance, Bernard Dale, as to his coming marriage, and explained to them how Lady Julia in one of her letters had told him all about it, and had even given him the number in Sackville Street.

“I suppose she learned it from you, Lily,” said the squire.

“Yes, uncle, she did.” And then there came questions as to John’s projected journey to the Continent, and he explained that he was going on law-business, on behalf of Mr. Crawley, to catch the dean and Mrs. Arabin, if it might be possible.

“You see, sir, Mr. Toogood, who is Mr. Crawley’s cousin, and also his lawyer, is my cousin, too; and that’s why I’m going.” And still there had been hardly a word spoken between him and Lily.

“But you’re not a lawyer, John; are you?” said the squire.

“No. I’m not a lawyer myself.”

“Nor a lawyer’s clerk?”

“Certainly not a lawyer’s clerk,” said Johnny, laughing.

“Then why should you go?” asked Bernard Dale.

Then Johnny had to explain; and in doing so he became very eloquent as to the hardships of Mr. Crawley’s case. “You see, sir, nobody can possibly believe that such a man as that stole twenty pounds.”

“I do not for one,” said Lily.

“God forbid that I should say he did,” said the squire.

“I’m quite sure he didn’t,” said Johnny, warming to his subject. “It couldn’t be that such a man as that should become a thief all at once. It’s not human nature, sir; is it?”

“It is very hard to know what is human nature,” said the squire.

“It’s the general opinion down in Barsetshire that he did steal it,” said Bernard. “Dr. Thorne was one of the magistrates who committed him, and I know he thinks so.”

“I don’t blame the magistrates in the least,” said Johnny.

“That’s kind of you,” said the squire.

“Of course you’ll laugh at me, sir; but you’ll see that we shall come out right. There’s some mystery in it of which we haven’t got at the bottom as yet; and if there is anybody that can help us it’s the dean.”

“If the dean knows anything, why has he not written and told what he knows?” said the squire.

“That’s what I can’t say. The dean has not had an opportunity of writing since he heard⁠—even if he has yet heard⁠—that Mr. Crawley is to be tried. And then he and Mrs. Arabin are not together. It’s a long story, and I will not trouble you with it all; but at any rate I’m going off tomorrow. Lily, can I do anything for you in Florence?”

“In Florence?” said Lily; “and are you really going to Florence? How I envy you.”

“And who pays your expenses?” said the squire.

“Well;⁠—as to my expenses, they are to be paid by a person who won’t raise any unpleasant questions about the amount.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said the squire.

“He means himself,” said Lily.

“Is he going to do it out of his own pocket?”

“He is,” said Lily, looking at her