When she was alone she sat down in her habit and declared to herself that she certainly would never become the wife of Mr Crosbie. I do not know why she should make such a declaration. She had promised her mother and John Eames that she would not do so, and that promise would certainly have bound her without any further resolutions on her part.
But, to tell the truth, the vision of the man had disenchanted her. When last she had seen him he had been as it were a god to her; and though, since that day, his conduct to her had been as ungodlike as it well might be, still the memory of the outward signs of his divinity had remained with her. It is difficult to explain how it had come to pass that the glimpse which she had had of him should have altered so much within her mind;--why she should so suddenly have come to regard him in an altered light. It was not simply that he looked to be older, and because his face was careworn. It was not only that he had lost that look of an Apollo which Lily had once in her mirth attributed to him. Ithink it was chiefly that she herself was older, and could no longer see a god in such a man. She had never regarded John Eames as being gifted with divinity, and had therefore always been ****** comparisons to his discredit. Any such comparison now would tend quite the other way.
Nevertheless she would adhere to the two letters in her book. Since she had seen Mr Crosbie she was altogether out of love with the prospect of matrimony.
She was in the room when Mr Pratt was announced, and she at once recognised him as the man who had been with Crosbie. And when, some minutes afterwards, Siph Dunn came into the room, she could see that in their greeting allusion was made to the scene in the Park. But still it was probable that this man would not recognise her, and, if he did so, what would it matter? There were twenty people to sit down to dinner, and the chances were that she would not be called upon to exchange a word with Mr Pratt. She had now recovered herself, and could speak freely to her friend Siph, and when Siph came and stood near her she thanked him graciously for his escort in the Park. 'If it wasn't for you, Mr Dunn, I really think I should not get any riding at all. Bernard and Miss Dunstable have only one thing to think about, and certainly Iam not the one thing.' She thought it probable that if she could keep Siph close to her, Mrs Thorne, who always managed things herself, might apportion her out to be led to dinner by her good-natured friend. But the fates were averse. The time had now come, and Lily was waiting her turn. 'Mr Fowler Pratt, let me introduce to Miss Lily Dale,' said Mrs Thorne. Lily could perceive that Mr Pratt was startled. The sign he gave was the least possible sign in the world; but still it sufficed for Lily to perceive it. She put her hand upon his arm, and walked down with him to the dining-room without giving him the slightest cause to suppose that she knew who he was.
'I think I saw you in the park riding?' he said.
'Yes, I was there; we go nearly every day.'
'I never ride; I was walking.'
'It seems to me that the people who don't go there to walk, but to stand still,' said Lily. 'I cannot understand how so many people can bear to loiter about in that way--leaning on the rails and doing nothing.'
'It is about as good as riding, and costs less money. That is all that can be said for it. Do you live chiefly in town?'
'Oh, dear no; I live altogether in the country. I'm only up here because a cousin is going to be married.'
'Captain Dale, you mean--to Miss Dunstable?' said Fowler Pratt.
'When they have been joined together in holy matrimony, I shall go down to the country, and never, I suppose, come up to London again.'
'You do not like London?'
'Not as a residence, I think,' said Lily. 'But of course one's likings and dislikings on such a matter depend on circumstances. I live with my mother, and all my relatives live near us. Of course I like the country best, because they are there.'
'Young ladies so often have a different way of looking at this subject.
I shouldn't wonder if Miss Dunstable's views about it were altogether of another sort. Young ladies generally expect to be taken away from their father and mothers, and uncles and aunts.'
'But you see I expect to be left with mine,' said Lily. After that she turned as much away from Mr Fowler Pratt as she could, having taken an aversion to him. What business had he to talk to her about being taken away from uncles and aunts? She had seen him with Mr Crosbie, and it might be possible that they were intimate friends. It might be that Mr Pratt was asking questions in Mr Crosbie's interests. Let that be as it might, she would answer no more questions from him further than ordinary good breeding should require of her.
'She is a nice girl, certainly,' said Fowler Pratt to himself, as he walked home, 'and I have no doubt would make a good, ordinary, everyday wife. But she is not such a paragon that a man should condescend to grovel in the dirt for her.'
That night Lily told Emily Dunstable the whole of Mr Crosbie's history as far as she knew it, and also explained her new aversion to Mr Fowler Pratt. 'They are very great friends,' said Emily. 'Bernard has told me so; and you may be sure that Mr Pratt knew the whole history before he came here. I am so sorry that my aunt asked him.'
'It does not signify in the least,' said Lily. 'Even if I were to meet Mr Crosbie I don't think I should make such a fool of myself again. As it is, I can only hope that he did not see it.'
'I am sure he did not.'
Then there was a pause, during which Lily sat with her face resting on both her hands. 'It is wonderful how much he has altered,' she said at last.
'Think how much he has suffered.'
'I suppose I am altered as much, only I do not see it myself.'
'I don't know what you were, but I don't think you can have changed much. You no doubt have suffered too, but not as he has done.'
'Oh, as for that, I have done very well. I think I'll go to bed now.
The riding makes me so sleepy.'