Crosbie would have gone on, but that in his attempt to do so he passed close by the chair on which Mrs. Harold Smith was sitting, and that he was accosted by her. “Mr. Crosbie,” she said, “I haven’t seen you for an age. Has it come to pass that you have buried yourself entirely?” He did not know how to extricate himself so as to move on at once. He paused, and hesitated, and then stopped, and made an attempt to talk to Mrs. Smith as though he were at his ease. The attempt was anything but successful; but having once stopped, he did not know how to put himself in motion again, so that he might escape. At this moment Bernard Dale and Emily Dunstable came up and joined the group; but neither of them had discovered who Crosbie was till they were close upon him.
Lily was seated between Mrs. Thorne and Mrs. Smith, and Siph Dunn had been standing immediately opposite to them. Fowler Pratt, who had been drawn into the circle against his will, was now standing close to Dunn, almost between him and Lily—and Crosbie was standing within two yards of Lily, on the other side of Dunn. Emily and Bernard had gone behind Pratt and Crosbie to Mrs. Thorne’s side before they had recognized the two men;—and in this way Lily was completely surrounded. Mrs. Thorne, who, in spite of her eager, impetuous ways, was as thoughtful of others as any woman could be, as soon as she heard Crosbie’s name understood it all, and knew that it would be well that she should withdraw Lily from her plight. Crosbie, in his attempt to talk to Mrs. Smith, had smiled and simpered—and had then felt that to smile and simper before Lily Dale, with a pretended indifference to her presence, was false on his part, and would seem to be mean. He would have avoided Lily for both their sakes, had it been possible; but it was no longer possible, and he could not keep his eyes from her face. Hardly knowing what he did, he bowed to her, lifted his hat, and uttered some word of greeting.
Lily, from the moment that she had perceived his presence, had looked straight before her, with something almost of fierceness in her eyes. Both Pratt and Siph Dunn had observed her narrowly. It had seemed as though Crosbie had been altogether outside the ken of her eyes, or the notice of her ears, and yet she had seen every motion of his body, and had heard every word which had fallen from his lips. Now, when he saluted her, she turned her face full upon him, and bowed to him. Then she rose from her seat, and made her way, between Siph Dunn and Pratt, out of the circle. The blood had mounted to her face and suffused it all, and her whole manner was such that it could escape the observation of none who stood there. Even Mrs. Harold Smith had seen it, and had read the story. As soon as she was on her feet, Bernard had dropped Emily’s hand, and offered his arm to his cousin. “Lily,” he had said out loud, “you had better let me take you away. It is a misfortune that you have been subjected to the insult of such a greeting.” Bernard and Crosbie had been early friends, and Bernard had been the unfortunate means of bringing Crosbie and Lily together. Up to this day, Bernard had never had his revenge for the ill-treatment which his cousin had received. Some morsel of that revenge came to him now. Lily almost hated her cousin for what he said; but she took his arm, and walked with him from the room. It must be acknowledged in excuse for Bernard Dale, and as an apology for the apparent indiscretion of his words, that all the circumstances of the meeting had become apparent to everyone there. The misfortune of the encounter had become too plain to admit of its being hidden under any of the ordinary veils of society. Crosbie’s salutation had been made before the eyes of them all, and in the midst of absolute silence, and Lily had risen with so queenlike a demeanour, and had moved with so stately a step, that it was impossible that anyone concerned should pretend to ignore the facts of the scene that had occurred. Crosbie was still standing close to Mrs. Harold Smith, Mrs. Thorne had risen from her seat, and the words which Bernard Dale had uttered were still sounding in the ears of them all.
“Shall I see after the carriage?” said Siph Dunn.
“Do,” said Mrs. Thorne; “or, stay a moment; the carriage will of course be there, and we will go together. Good morning, Mr. Pratt. I expect that, at any rate, you will send me your card by post.” Then they all passed on, and Crosbie and Fowler Pratt were left among the pictures.
“I think you will agree with me now that you had better give her up,” said Fowler Pratt.
“I will never give her up,” said Crosbie, “till I shall hear that she has married someone else.”
“You may take my word for it, that she will never marry you after what has just now occurred.”
“Very likely not; but still the attempt, even the idea of the attempt, will be a comfort to me. I shall be endeavouring to do that which I ought to have done.”
“What you have got to think of, I should suppose, is her comfort—not your own.”
Crosbie stood for a while silent, looking at a portrait which was hung just within the doorway of a smaller room into which they had passed, as though his attention were entirely riveted by the picture.
