Nor did she feel offence. It was something gained by John Eames in Lily's estimation that he should have such a friend as Mrs Arabin to take an interest in his welfare. But there was a self-dependence, perhaps one may call it an obstinacy about Lily Dale, which made her determined that she would not be driven hither or thither by any pressure from without. Why had John Eames, at the very moment when he should have been doing his best to drive from her breast the memory of past follies--when he would have striven to do so had he really been earnest in his suit--why at such a moment had he allowed himself to correspond in terms of affection with such a woman as M D? While Mrs Arabin was pleading for John Eames, Lily was repeating to herself certain words which John had written to that woman--'Ever and always yours unalterably'. Such were not the exact words, but such was the form in which Lily, dishonestly, chose to repeat them to herself. And why was it so with her? In the old days she would have forgiven Crosbie any offence at a word or a look--any possible letter to any M D, let her have been ever so abominable! Nay--had she not even forgiven him the offence of deserting herself altogether on behalf of a woman as detestable as could be any M D of Johnny's choosing--a woman whose only recommendation had been her title? And yet she would not forgive John Eames, though the evidence against him was of so flimsy a nature--but rather strove to turn the flimsiness of that evidence into strength! Why was it so? Unheroic as he might be, John Eames was surely a better man and a bigger man that Adolphus Crosbie. It was simply this: she had fallen in love with the one, and had never fallen in love with the other! She had fallen in love with the one man, though in her ****** way she had made a struggle against such feeling; and she had not come to love the other man, though she had told herself that it would be well that she should do so if it were possible. Again and again she had half declared to herself that she would take him as her husband and leave the love to come afterwards; but when the moment came for doing so, she could not do it.
'May I not say a word of comfort to him?' said Mrs Arabin.
'He will be very comfortable without any such word,' said Lily, laughing.
'But he is not comfortable; of that you may be very sure.'
'Yours ever and unalterably, J E,' said Lily to herself. 'You do not doubt his affection?' continued Mrs Arabin.
'I neither doubt it nor credit it.'
'Then I think you wrong him. And the reason why I have ventured to come to you is that you may know the impression which he has made upon one who was but the other day a stranger to him. I am sure that he loves you.'
'I think he is light of heart.'
'Oh, no, Miss Dale.'
'And how am I to become his wife unless I love him well enough myself?
Mrs Arabin, I have made up my mind about it. I shall never become any man's wife. Mamma and I are all in all together, and we shall remain together.' And as soon as these words were out of her mouth, she hated herself for having spoken them. There was a maudlin, missish, namby-pamby sentimentality about them which disgusted her. She specially desired to be straightforward, resolute of purpose, honest-spoken, and free from all touch of affectation. And yet she had excused herself from marrying John Eames after the fashion of a sick schoolgirl. 'It is not good talking about it any more,' she said, getting up from her chair quickly.
'You are not angry with me;--or at any rate you will forgive me?'
'I'm quite sure you have meant to be very good, and I am not a bit angry.'
'And you will see him before you go?'
'Oh, yes; that is if he likes to come today, or early tomorrow. I go home tomorrow. I cannot refuse him, because he is such an old friend--almost like a brother. But it is of no use, Mrs Arabin.' Then Mrs Arabin kissed her and left her, telling her that Mr Eames would come to her that afternoon at half-past five. Lily promised that she would be at home to receive him.
'Won't you ride with us for the last time?' said Emily Dunstable when Lily gave notice that she would not want the horse on that afternoon.
'No; not today.'
'You'll never have another opportunity of riding with Emily Dunstable,' said the bride elect; 'at least I hope not.'
'Even under those circumstances I must refuse, though I would give a guinea to be with you. John Eames is coming here to say good-bye.'
'Oh; then indeed you must not come with us. Lily, what will you say to him?'
'Nothing.'
'Oh, Lily, think of it.'
'I have thought of it. I have thought of nothing else. I am tired of thinking of it. It is no good to think of anything so much. What does it matter?'
'It is very good to have someone to love better than all the world besides.'
'I have someone,' said Lily, thinking of her mother, but not caring to descend to the mawkish weakness of talking about her.
'Yes; but someone who will always be with you, to do everything for you;to be your very own.'
'It is all very well for you,' said Lily, 'and I think that Bernard is the luckiest fellow in the world; but it will not do for me. I know in what college I'll take my degree, and I wish they'd let me write the letters after my name as the men do.'
'What letters, Lily?'
'O M, for Old Maid. I don't see why it shouldn't be as good as BA for Bachelor of Arts. It would mean a great deal more.'