The Small House at Allington Anthony Trollope (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) đ
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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âMy memory is very good,â said the countess; âvery good indeed. If Twitch got it, and didnât tell me, that was not my fault.â Twitch was her ladyshipâs ladyâs-maid. Crosbie, seeing how the land lay, said nothing more about the bracelet.
After a minute or two he put out his hand to take that of Alexandrina. They were to be married now in a week or two, and such a sign of love might have been allowed to him, even in the presence of the brideâs mother. He did succeed in getting hold of her fingers, but found in them none of the softness of a response. âDonât,â said Lady Alexandrina, withdrawing her hand; and the tone of her voice as she spoke the word was not sweet to his ears. He remembered at the moment a certain scene which took place one evening at the little bridge at Allington, and Lilyâs voice, and Lilyâs words, and Lilyâs passion, as he caressed her: âOh, my love, my love, my love!â
âMy dear,â said the countess, âthey know how tired I am. I wonder whether they are going to give us any tea.â Whereupon Crosbie rang the bell, and, on resuming his chair, moved it a little farther away from his ladylove.
Presently the tea was brought to them by the housekeeperâs assistant, who did not appear to have made herself very smart for the occasion, and Crosbie thought that he was de trop. This, however, was a mistake on his part. As he had been admitted into the family, such little matters were no longer subject of care. Two or three months since, the countess would have fainted at the idea of such a domestic appearing with a tea-tray before Mr. Crosbie. Now, however, she was utterly indifferent to any such consideration. Crosbie was to be admitted into the family, thereby becoming entitled to certain privilegesâ âand thereby also becoming subject to certain domestic drawbacks. In Mrs. Daleâs little household there had been no rising to grandeur; but then, also, there had never been any bathos of dirt. Of this also Crosbie thought as he sat with his tea in his hand.
He soon, however, got himself away. When he rose to go Alexandrina also rose, and he was permitted to press his nose against her cheekbone by way of a salute.
âGood night, Adolphus,â said the countess, putting out her hand to him. âBut stop a minute; I know there is something I want you to do for me. But you will look in as you go to your office tomorrow morning.â
XLI Domestic TroublesWhen Crosbie was making his ineffectual inquiry after Lady De Courcyâs bracelet at Lambertâs, John Eames was in the act of entering Mrs. Roperâs front door in Burton Crescent.
âOh, John, whereâs Mr. Cradell?â were the first words which greeted him, and they were spoken by the divine Amelia. Now, in her usual practice of life, Amelia did not interest herself much as to the whereabouts of Mr. Cradell.
âWhereâs Cradell?â said Eames, repeating the question. âUpon my word, I donât know. I walked to the office with him, but I havenât seen him since. We donât sit in the same room, you know.â
âJohn!â and then she stopped.
âWhatâs up now?â said John.
âJohn! That womanâs off and left her husband. As sure as your nameâs John Eames, that foolish fellow has gone off with her.â
âWhat, Cradell? I donât believe it.â
âShe went out of this house at two oâclock in the afternoon, and has never been back since.â That, certainly, was only four hours from the present time, and such an absence from home in the middle of the day was but weak evidence on which to charge a married woman with the great sin of running off with a lover. This Amelia felt, and therefore she went on to explain. âHeâs there upstairs in the drawing-room, the very picture of disconsolateness.â
âWhoâ âCradell?â
âLupex is. Heâs been drinking a little, Iâm afraid; but heâs very unhappy, indeed. He had an appointment to meet his wife here at four oâclock, and when he came he found her gone. He rushed up into their room, and now he says she has broken open a box he had and taken off all his money.â
âBut he never had any money.â
âHe paid mother some the day before yesterday.â
âThatâs just the reason he shouldnât have any today.â
âShe certainly has taken things she wouldnât have taken if sheâd merely gone out shopping or anything like that, for Iâve been up in the room and looked about it. Sheâd three necklaces. They werenât much account; but she must have them all on, or else have got them in her pocket.â
âCradell has never gone off with her in that way. He may be a foolâ ââ
âOh, he is, you know. Iâve never seen such a fool about a woman as he has been.â
âBut he wouldnât be a party to stealing a lot of trumpery trinkets, or taking her husbandâs money. Indeed, I donât think he has anything to do with it.â Then Eames thought over the circumstances of the day, and remembered that he had certainly not seen Cradell since the morning. It was that public servantâs practice to saunter into Eamesâs room in the middle of the day, and there consume bread and cheese and beerâ âin spite of an assertion which Johnny had once made as to crumbs of biscuit bathed in ink. But on this special day he had not done so. âI canât think he has been such a fool as that,â said Johnny.
âBut he has,â said Amelia. âItâs dinnertime now, and where is he? Had he any money left, Johnny?â
So interrogated, Eames disclosed a secret confided to him by his friend which no other circumstances would have succeeded in dragging from his breast.
âShe borrowed twelve pounds from him about a fortnight since, immediately after quarter-day. And she owed him money, too, before that.â
âOh, what a
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