Among other generous kindnesses Mrs. Thorne insisted that Bernard should hire a horse for his cousin Lily. Emily Dunstable rode daily, and of course Captain Dale rode with her;—and now Lily joined the party. Almost before she knew what was being done she found herself provided with hat and habit and horse and whip. It was a way with Mrs. Thorne that they who came within the influence of her immediate sphere should be made to feel that the comforts and luxuries arising from her wealth belonged to a common stock, and were the joint property of them all. Things were not offered and taken and talked about, but they made their appearance, and were used as a matter of course. If you go to stay at a gentleman’s house you understand that, as a matter of course, you will be provided with meat and drink. Some hosts furnish you also with cigars. A small number give you stabling and forage for your horse; and a very select few mount you on hunting days, and send you out with a groom and a second horse. Mrs. Thorne went beyond all others in this openhanded hospitality. She had enormous wealth at her command, and had but few of those all-absorbing drains upon wealth which in this country make so many rich men poor. She had no family property—no place to keep up in which she did not live. She had no retainers to be maintained because they were retainers. She had neither sons nor daughters. Consequently she was able to be lavish in her generosity; and as her heart was very lavish, she would have given her friends gold to eat had gold been good for eating. Indeed there was no measure in her giving—unless when the idea came upon her that the recipient of her favours was trading on them. Then she could hold her hand very stoutly.
Lily Dale had not liked the idea of being fitted out thus expensively. A box at the opera was all very well, as it was not procured especially for her. And tickets for other theatres did not seem to come unnaturally for a night or two. But her spirit had militated against the hat and the habit and the horse. The whip was a little present from Emily Dunstable, and that of course was accepted with a good grace. Then there came the horse—as though from the heavens; there seemed to be ten horses, twenty horses, if anybody needed them. All these things seemed to flow naturally into Mrs. Thorne’s establishment, like air through the windows. It was very pleasant, but Lily hesitated when she was told that a habit was to be given to her.
“My dear old aunt insists,” said Emily Dunstable. “Nobody ever thinks of refusing anything from her. If you only knew what some people will take, and some people will even ask, who have nothing to do with her at all!”
“But I have nothing to do with her—in that way I mean,” said Lily.
“Oh, yes, you have,” said Emily. “You and Bernard are as good as brother and sister, and Bernard and I are as good as man and wife, and my aunt and I are as good as mother and daughter. So you see, in a sort of a way you are a child of the house.”
So Lily accepted the habit; but made a stand at the hat, and paid for that out of her own pocket. When the squire had seen Lily on horseback he asked her questions about it. “It was a hired horse, I suppose?” he said.
“I think it came direct from heaven,” said Lily.
“What do you mean, Lily?” said the squire, angrily.
“I mean that when people are so rich and good-natured as Mrs. Thorne it is no good inquiring where things come from. All that I know is that the horses come out of Potts’ livery-stable. They talk of Potts as if he were a good-natured man who provides horses for the world without troubling anybody.”
Then the squire spoke to Bernard about it, saying that he should insist on defraying his niece’s expenses. But Bernard swore that he could give his uncle no assistance. “I would not speak to her about such a thing for all the world,” said Bernard.
“Then I shall,” said the squire.
In those days Lily thought much of Johnny Eames—gave to him perhaps more of that thought which leads to love than she had ever given him before. She still heard the Crawley question discussed every day. Mrs. Thorne, as we all know, was at this time a Barsetshire personage, and was of course interested in Barsetshire subjects; and she was specially anxious in the matter, having strong hopes with reference to the marriage of Major Grantly and Grace, and strong hopes also that Grace’s father might escape the fangs of justice. The Crawley case was constantly in Lily’s ears, and as constantly she heard high praise awarded to Johnny for his kindness in going after the Arabins.
“He must be a fine young fellow,” said Mrs. Thorne, “and we’ll have him down at Chaldicotes some day. Old Lord De Guest found him out and made a friend of him, and old Lord De Guest was no fool.”
Lily was not altogether free from a suspicion that Mrs. Thorne knew the story of Johnny’s love
