'Bernard!' said Lily, flashing on him with all the fire which her eyes could command. Then she remembered that she could not reprimand him for the offence of such abuse in such a company; so she reined in her horse and fell a-weeping.
Siph Dunn, with his wicked cleverness, knew the whole story at once, remembering that he had once heard something of Crosbie having behaved very ill to someone before he married Lady Alexandra De Courcy. He stopped his horse also, falling a little behind Lily, so that he might not be supposed to have seen her tears, and began to hum a tune. Emily also, though not wickedly clever, understood something of it. 'If Bernard says anything to make you angry, I will scold him,' she said.
Then the two girls rode on together in front, while Bernard fell back with Siph Dunn.
'Pratt,' said Crosbie, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder as soon as the party had ridden out of hearing, 'do you see that girl there in the dark blue habit?'
'What, the one nearest to the path?'
'Yes; the one nearest to the path. That is Lily Dale.'
'Lily Dale!' said Fowler Pratt.
'Yes, that is Lily Dale.'
'Did you speak to her?' Pratt asked.
'No; she gave me no chance. She was there but a moment. But it was herself. It seems so odd to me that I should have been thus so near her again.' If there was any man to whom Crosbie could have spoken freely about Lily Dale it was this man, Fowler Pratt. Pratt was the oldest friend he had in the world, and it had happened that when he first woke to the misery that he had prepared for himself in throwing over Lily and betrothing himself to his late wife, Pratt had been the first person to whom he had communicated his sorrow. Not that he had ever been really open in his communications. It was not given to such men as Crosbie to speak openly of themselves to their friends. Nor, indeed, was Fowler Pratt one who was fond of listening to such tales. He had no such tales to tell of himself, and he thought that men and women should go through the world quietly, not subjecting themselves or their acquaintances to anxieties and emotions from peculiar conduct. But he was conscientious, and courageous also as well as prudent, and he had dared to tell Crosbie that he was behaving very badly. He had spoken his mind plainly, and had then given all the assistance in his power.
He paused a moment before he replied, weighing, like a prudent man, the force of the words he was about to utter. 'It is much better as it is,' he said. 'It is much better that you should be strangers for the future.'
'I do not see that at all,' said Crosbie. They were both leaning on the rails, and so they remained for the next twenty minutes. 'I do not see that at all.'
'I feel sure of it. What could come of any renewed intercourse--even if she would allow it?'
'I might make her my wife.'
'And do you think that you would be happy with her, or she with you, after what has passed?'
'I do think so.'
'I do not. It might be possible that she could bring herself to marry you. Women delight to forgive injuries. They like the excitement of generosity. But she could never forget that you had a former wife, or the circumstances under which you were married. And as for yourself, you would regret it after the first month. How could you ever speak to her of your love without speaking also of your shame? If a man does marry he should at least be able to hold up his head before his wife.'
This was very severe, but Crosbie showed no anger. 'I think I should do so,' he said--'after a while.'
'And then, about money? Of course you would have to tell her everything.'
'Everything--of course.'
'It is like enough that she might not regard that--except that she would feel that if you could not afford to marry her when you were unembarrassed, you can hardly afford to do so when you are over your head and ears in debt.'
'She has money now.'
'After all that has come and gone you would hardly seek Lily Dale because you want to marry a fortune.'
'You are too hard on me, Pratt. You know that my only reason for seeking her is that I love her.'
'I do not mean to be hard. But I have a very strong opinion that the quarrels of lovers, when they are of so very serious a nature, are a bad basis for the renewal of love. Come, let us go and dress for dinner. Iam going to dine with Mrs Thorne, the millionaire, who married a country doctor, and who used to be called Miss Dunstable.'
'I never dine out anywhere now,' said Crosbie. And then they walked out of the Park together. Neither of them, of course, knew that Lily Dale was staying at the house at which Fowler was going to dine.
Lily, as she rode home, did not speak a word. She would have given worlds to be able to talk, but she could not even make a beginning. She heard Bernard and Siph Dunn chatting behind her, had hoped they would continue to do so till she was safe within the house. They all used her well, for no one tried to draw her into conversation. Once Emily said to her, 'Shall we trot a little, Lily?' And then they moved on quickly, and the misery was soon over. As soon as she was upstairs in the house she got Emily by herself, and explained all the mystery in a word or two. 'Ifear I have made a fool of myself. That was the man to whom I was once engaged.' 'What, Mr Crosbie?' said Emily, who had heard the whole story from Bernard. 'Yes, Mr Crosbie; pray do not say a word of it to anybody--not even to your aunt. I am better now, but I was such a fool.
No, dear; I won't go into the drawing-room. I'll go upstairs, and come down ready for dinner.'