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I resisted her, knowing that a drive would, in the end, take me to the railway station and from that home to be embroiled in the contest between Lalage and the Diocesan Synod. I had a letter from my mother urging me to return home at once and hinting at the possibility of unpleasantness over the election of the new bishop.
I ventured to hint to Lalage that it might be well to bring the business to a head, if possible, before my book is published. Lalage expressed considerable surprise. "What on earth has your book got to do with their marriage?" she said. I saw no good in anticipating what is likely to be an evil day by offering a premature explanation. "Nothing," I said, "nothing at all."
Even if I had been very angry with Lalage my uncle's letter would have softened my heart toward her. She deserved well and not ill of me. The decision of the Conservative and Unionist Parliamentary Association came on me as a shock. I had no idea that my uncle was negotiating with them on my behalf.
"We looked in," said Lalage, "because we thought you might want to be cheered up a bit. You can't have many visitors now that poor Tithers is gone." "Dead?" "Oh, no, not yet at least, and we hope he won't. Tithers means well and I daresay it's not his fault if he don't speak the truth." "They've put him in prison, I suppose.
With this letter was enclosed a small slip of paper bearing a message which appeared to have been very hurriedly written. "Please do not be too angry with Lalage. I'm sure she did not mean any harm. She is a very high-spirited girl, but most affectionate. I'm so sorry about it all especially for your poor mother. "Amélie Battersby." Miss Battersby need not have made her appeal.
Then I slipped away and gave the guard half a crown, charging him to look after Lalage and to see that no mischief happened to her on the way to Dublin. To my surprise he was unwilling to receive the tip. He told me that the Canon had already given him two shillings and he seemed to think that he was being overpaid for a simple, not very onerous, duty.
Lalage was crying on his shoulder, sobbing quietly without noise or movement, as overwrought women do; but it was soon over, and she pulled herself together bravely. "I think you're very tired and we had better have some tea now," she said, smiling at him with wet eyes. He kissed away her tears, then released her, and sat down whilst she hurried into the kitchen to prepare the tray.
I received letters from them both, written by secretaries and signed very shakily, asking me to cooperate with them in suppressing Lalage. O'Donoghue, who was apparently not quite so ill as Vittie was, also suggested that we should publish, over our three names, a dignified rejoinder to the mirth of the press.
In my eagerness to please Lalage I went so far as to write to Selby-Harrison, asking him to make out for me a list of the leading poets of the meditative and mystical schools. I also gave an order to a bookseller for all the books of original poetry published during that autumn. The number of volumes I received surprised me. I used to exhibit them with great pride to my mother and Lalage.
"His idea," said my mother, "is that you should bring out a comprehensive work on the economic condition of Ireland in the twentieth century." "He thinks," Lalage added, "that when you do go into Parliament it will be a great advantage to you to be a recognized authority on something, even if it's only Irish economics."
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