'Nobody will. There never is anybody at Hogglestock to stick up wreaths or do anything for the prettiness of life. And now there will be less than ever. How can mamma look after holly-leaves in her present state?
And yet she will miss them, too. Poor mamma sees very little that is pretty; but she has not forgotten how pleasant pretty things are.'
'I wish I knew your mother, Grace.'
'I think it would be impossible for anyone to know mamma now--for anyone who had not known her before. She never makes even a new acquaintance. She seems to think that there's nothing left for her in the world but to try to keep papa out of his misery. And she does not succeed in that. Poor papa!'
'Is he unhappy about this wicked situation?'
'Yes; he is very unhappy. But, Lily, I don't know about its being wicked.'
'But you know it's untrue.'
'Of course I know that papa did not mean to take anything that was not his own. But, you see, nobody knows where it came from; and nobody except mamma and Jane and I understand how very absent papa can be. I'm sure he doesn't know the least in the world how he came by it himself, or he would tell mamma. Do you know, Lily, I think I have been wrong to come away.'
'Don't say that, dear. Remember how anxious Mrs Crawley was that you should come.'
'But I cannot bear to be comfortable here while they are so wretched at home. It seems such a mockery. Every time I find myself smiling at what you say to me, I think I must be the most heartless creature in the world.'
'Is it so very bad with them, Grace?'
'Indeed it is bad. I don't think you can imagine what mamma has to go through. She has to cook all that is eaten in the house, and then, very often, there is no money in the house to buy anything. If you were to see the clothes she wears, even that would make your heart bleed. I who have been used to being poor all my life--even I, when I am at home, am dismayed by what she has to endure.'
'What can we do for her, Grace?'
'You can do nothing, Lily. But when things are like that at home, you can understand what I feel in being here.'
Mrs Giles and Gregory had now completed their task, or had so nearly done so as to make Miss Dale think that she might safely leave the church. 'We will go in now,' she said; 'for it is dark and cold, and what I call creepy. Do you ever fancy that perhaps you will see a ghost some day?'
'I don't think I shall ever see a ghost; but all the same I should be half afraid to be here alone in the dark.'
'I am often here alone in the dark, but I am beginning to think I shall never see a ghost now. I am losing all my romance, and getting to be an old woman. Do you know, Grace, I do so hate myself for being such an old maid.'
'But who says you're an old maid, Lily?'
'I see it in people's eyes, and hear it in their voices. And they all talk to me as if I were steady, and altogether removed from anything like fun and frolic. It seems to be admitted that if a girl does not want to fall in love, she ought not to care for any other fun in the world. If anybody made out a list of the old ladies in these parts, they'd put down Lady Julia, and mamma, and Mrs Boyce, and me, and old Mrs Hearne. The very children have an awful respect for me, and give over playing directly they see me. Well, mamma, we've done at last, and I have had such a scolding from Mrs Boyce.'
'I daresay you deserved it, my dear.'
'No, I did not, mamma. Ask Grace if I did.'
'Was she not saucy to Mrs Boyce, Miss Crawley?'
'She said Mr Boyce scratches his nose in church,' said Grace.
'So he does; and goes to sleep, too.'
'If you told Mrs Boyce that, Lily, I think she was quite right to scold you.'
Such was Miss Lily Dale, with whom Grace Crawley was staying;--Lily Dale with whom Mr John Eames, of the Income-tax Office, had been so long and so steadily in love, that he was regarded among his fellow-clerks as a miracle of constancy--who had, herself, in former days been so unfortunate in love as to have been regarded among her friends in the country as the most ill-used of women. As John Eames had been able to be comfortable in life--that is to say, not utterly a wretch--in spite of his love, so had she managed to hold up her head, and live as other young women live, in spite of her fortune. But as it may be said also that his constancy was true constancy, although he knew how to enjoy the good things of the world, so also had her misfortune been a true misfortune, although she had been able to bear it without much outer show of shipwreck. For a few days--for a week or two, when the blow first struck her, she had been knocked down, and the friends who were nearest to her had thought that she would never again stand erect upon her feet. But she had been very strong, stout at heart, of a fixed purpose, and capable of resistance against oppression. Even her own mother had been astonished, and sometimes almost dismayed, by the strength of her will. Her mother knew well how it was with her now; but they who saw her frequently, and who did not know her as her mother knew her--the Mrs Boyce's of her acquaintance--whispered among themselves that Lily Dale was not so soft of heart as people used to think.
On the next day, Christmas Day, as the reader will remember, Grace Crawley was taken up to dine at the big house with the old squire. Mrs Dale's eldest daughter, with her husband, Dr Crofts, was to be there;and also Lily's old friend, who was also especially the old friend of Johnny Eames, Lady Julia De Guest. Grace had endeavoured to be excused from the party, pleading many pleas. But the upshot of all her pleas was this--that while her father's position was so painful she ought not to go out anywhere. In answer to this, Lily Dale, corroborated by her mother, assured her that for her father's sake she ought not to exhibit any such feeling; that in doing so, she would seem to express a doubt as to her father's innocence. Then she allowed herself to be persuaded, telling her friend, however, that she knew the day would be very miserable to her. 'It will be very humdrum, if you please,' said Lily.
'Nothing can be more humdrum than Christmas at the Great House.
Nevertheless, you must go.'