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Updated: May 10, 2025
She enjoyed the little sensation created by her companion; and the knowledge which she thought she had of his relations to Lady St. Craye absolved her of any fear that in dining with him tete-a-tete she was doing anything "not quite nice." To her the thought of his engagement was as good or as bad as a chaperon.
Willoughby's treatment of her showed either temper or weariness. Vanity and judgement led De Craye to guess the former. Regarding her sentiments for Willoughby, he had come to his own conclusion. The certainty of it caused him to assume that he possessed an absolute knowledge of her character: she was an angel, born supple; she was a heavenly soul, with half a dozen of the tricks of earth.
Craye into the sitting-room, lighted the lamp, drew the curtain across the clear April night, and stood looking enquiry and not looking it kindly. Her lips were set in a hard line and she was frowning. She waited for the other to speak, but after all it was she who broke the silence. "Well," she said, "what do you want now?" "I hardly know how to begin," said Lady St. Craye with great truth.
"If you are conscious of these temptations to appropriate what is not your own, you should quit the neighbourhood." "And do it elsewhere? But that's not virtuous counsel." "And I'm not counselling in the interests of your virtue, Colonel De Craye." "And I dared for a moment to hope that you were, ma'am," he said, ruefully drooping.
She was brooding in stupefaction on her father and the wine as she requested Colonel De Craye to persuade Willoughby to take the general view of Crossjay's future and act on it. "He seems fond of the boy, too," said De Craye, musingly. "You speak in doubt?" "Not at all. But is he not men are queer fish! make allowance for us a trifle tyrannical, pleasantly, with those he is fond of?"
"But gratitude is flattering," said Vernon. "Now, no metaphysics, Mr. Whitford." "But do care a bit for flattery, my lady," said De Craye. "'Tis the finest of the Arts; we might call it moral sculpture. Adepts in it can cut their friends to any shape they like by practising it with the requisite skill. I myself, poor hand as I am, have made a man act Solomon by constantly praising his wisdom.
De Craye threw the door open. Lady Busshe was at that moment saying, "And are we indeed to have you for a neighbour, Dr. Middleton?" The Rev. Doctor's reply was drowned by the new arrivals. "I thought you had forsaken us," observed Sir Willoughby to Mrs. Mountstuart. "And run away with Colonel De Craye? I'm too weighty, my dear friend. Besides, I have not looked at the wedding-presents yet."
"But not you, Miss Middleton." "I prefer to think that I am seen. I have a description of courage, Colonel De Craye, when it is forced on me." "I have not suspected the reverse. Courage wants training, as well as other fine capacities. Mine is often rusty and rheumatic." "I cannot hear of concealment or plotting." "Except, pray, to advance the cause of poor Flitch!" "He shall be excepted."
Her acting was as good as his. And his perception at the moment less clear than hers. He gave a breath of relief. It would never have done to have Lady St. Craye spying on him and Betty; and now he knew that she was in Paris he knew too that it would be "him and Betty." "We were talking," he said carefully, "about calling names." "Oh, thank you!
Willoughby stripped to enter the ring with Horace: he cast away disguise. That man had been the first to divide him in the all but equal slices of his egoistic from his amatory self: murder of his individuality was the crime of Horace De Craye.
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